"Harder."
Nine rolled his eyes.
"Harder," he repeated.
She grunted at him, frustration clear on her soft features.
"Harder," he said again.
"I'm going as hard as I can, asshole," she huffed, slamming her fist into the foam he held up another weak time.
"And it's shit. Again, harder," he commanded.
She listened, this time rearing back a bit stronger and planting her fist into the black cushion. It was better than her last several attempts, he'd give her that.
"Can we take a break?" She asked.
He shook his head, "No. We started thirty minutes ago."
"Yea, and it's been a useless thirty minutes."
"That's because you're weak, Bird. Now get your ass back over here and punch this fucking cushion," he glared.
She let her shoulder slacken, her head throwing back in irritation.
He knew she didn't want to be here from the conversation she had with Damian, but he didn't really give a shit. She needed this practice, and them training was helping distract him from his conversation with Damian.
It seemed that neither of them had a pleasant time with him.
Bird began throwing small punches back at the foam, holding her stance firm as he taught her yesterday.
He stood stiffly, prepared for any force she threw his way at any moment. Not that she could knock him off his feet anyways.
He's got at least five inches of height on her and was definitely heavier considering his build and her lack thereof. It would take a lot more of this training to get her where she needed to be, and he wasn't entirely confident that they had the time.
And regarding the conversation he had with Damian, time seems to be of the essence.
Damian and his crew in Atlanta were blindsided by a group that associated a bit closer to Uccello than they wanted to admit to themselves.
So, when they spent longer than they intended there, trying to fix reputations and end others, Nine knew it wasn't necessarily a good sign. It was usually an in and out sort of thing, Damian not wanting to draw too much attention to them or the people under him and The Nine.
But the moment Crab returned for a short period of time, Kite lost his eye. And that raised Nine's suspicions that Atlanta and here were a bit more connected than they'd assumed.
Damian confirmed that today.
Their meeting solely revolved around the growing strength of Uccello and anyone associated with him. In other words, Uccello was aware of their plan. Or, at minimum the overall idea of it.
This would make getting to anyone similar to Parker a lot harder, thus making Nine's revenge tactics a little more temporary than originally considered. That's what Damian says, at least. And Nine couldn't help but to feel this was partially his fault with his failed attempt at killing Nicholas Miller.
Nick clearly had some involvement, which was solidified by the eruption of attacks in Atlanta directly after he was nearly assassinated.
Had Nine been able to rid the world of him, Uccello would've at least known that they meant business.
But no.
He fucked up, received a gash in his side, and had an amateur hacker at his disposal. All three of these things seemed to make a larger impact on the reputation of The Nine than he thought when he blew up on Bird at the apartment last week.
He would make a point to be harder on her now.
Especially since she's a part of an organization that uses gangs and mafia's own tactics against them in order to eradicate them permanently. Was it ethical? Pure? Innocent or non-violent?
Definitely not.
But they were morally driven. Getting rid of those making the world worse, just by also breaking any common law while doing it. Nine liked to think of them as sometimes lawful evil, still committing crime but for good reason and within the laws of their own design. Perhaps they were even chaotic neutral.
He felt as though he had to put a label on it.
"Fuck, stop," he growled at her.
Her arms fell from her shit punches, her face becoming more of a scowl as she looked up at him while crossing her arms, "What?"
"You aren't even trying. If Parker had gotten his hands on you that night, you would've been royally fucked."
She glared at him, rolling her tongue inside of her mouth before clicking it at him, "You would have that been the case if you got the chance, wouldn't you?"
"Who wouldn't?"
"Normal people, you prick," she spit, walking over to the bench and chugging down some water.
He watched her with bored eyes, "Maybe the ones who haven't heard you talk yet."
"Says you," she chuckled darkly, "with your stupid fucking accent and your inability to form complete words sometimes."
Nine ignored her, walking over to bench beside her and taking his hoodie off, tossing it to the side. He wasn't wearing a shirt beneath it, but he was getting hot in this room with no circulation. Plus, they were about to do more hands-on practice before he got too tired of her and called it a day.
Not that he needed to justify his actions.
She said nothing as she peeked over at him for a moment, and then returned to drinking a bit more water.
He made his way to the mats, kicking his shoes off and standing in the middle, waiting for her.
She groaned, "I don't want to touch you today. Not in the mood."
"And sometimes you are?" He retorted.
Her cheeks grew red before she could scowl at him again.
"I just mean that I have better things to do than to have you almost break my ribs again."
He rolled his eyes, "If I wanted to, I could."
"You could've killed me too, but here we are."
"Bird, last time you said that shit, I pulled my gun out. Want to tango again?"
She flared her nostrils before making her way over to him, brushing the slightly dampened hair from her face and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Was it a tango if I also held a gun against you?"
He grit his teeth at the reminder, "It won't happen again. No one touches my fucking gun except me. Now get in stance."
"Yea, except me obviously. You definitely have issues with deciding if you can stand me or not."
"Not."
She looked up at him with an taunting grin, "Then put me out of my misery, doll."
He almost saw red at her mockery, moving as to quickly make a side-strike at her hips with one hand. His posture remained straight as his face remained stoic, completely unbothered by his own movements towards her smaller frame.
She jumped aside in a fast breath, but his other hand was coming at her too quickly. He watched in amusement as he struck her right arm with his left, her brows furrowing in pain.
"God, I wish you'd just die already," she bit out, making a weak attempt to swing at him.
He blocked it before her hand reached his face, taking a step to the side and grabbing ahold of her wrist tightly.
She bit her lip harshly at his tight hold, looking up at him with nothing but hatred.
This was how their physical combat practice had been going. Granted, she'd only been doing it for a day, but they'd gone through it multiple times.
It didn't seem like she was catching on any more than she had the time before. He was able to get around her pathetic blocks and throws with ease, and any motion he made towards her wasn't registered in time.
When she was forcing her attention on one of his limbs, he made sure another was forcefully coming at her, ready to inflict pain.
Maybe he wouldn't kill her yet, but he was fine with her being a little bruised up from his own doing.
She wasn't lying when she said she had little to no experience in fighting, though he assumed that it was more like none.
Her brother went too soft on her, and now she's getting her ass kicked.
Literally, as she fell to the mat on the floor, her hands stopping her face from smashing into it after he'd swept her feet beneath her with a swift movement of his leg.
She huffed loudly, looking down at the black fabric before shaking her head softly to herself.
"Get up," he ordered.
Bird tilted her eyes towards him, sending him a death glare. "Fuck you."
"Get up," he repeated. "Now."
Her hands bawled into fists as he wished that she'd just send a punch to his face one good time to get their training over for the day.
But she didn't. She stood up, shaking off her tight bottoms and shirt, going back to her stance with new determination in her eye.
They started again.
She tried to kick his knees but missed. He swung grabbed ahold of her right arm with one hand and went to swing at her with his left. She ducked and tried to plant a fist into his uncovered abdomen.
He shot backwards before she could land the blow, releasing her arm and dodging another feeble attempt as she stepped his way.
They were moving backwards on the mat, every step she took towards him he stepped backwards. He felt the edge meet his feet, and swiftly moved around her, standing behind her back. She turned around his way, frustration etched on her face.
She tried to land another blow to his stomach, but he moved aside first. He successfully jabbed the middle of her chest with a forward palm, causing her to cough for a second. But she didn't falter, ducking for his neck move towards her head and nailing a punch into his hip, next to his ferns.
He didn't react, barely feeling the hit at all, and moved to grab both of her wrists when she seemed to relish on her triumph. She realized and moved before he could grasp the other, one hand now in his hold.
She moved to raise her foot, trying to kick him in the same side.
But he was faster, grabbing ahold of the leg and deeming her unable to move with one leg in one hand and her wrist in the other. She was almost folded like a pretzel and was clearly upset by that.
He almost grinned at her at his success, but stopped himself, watching sadistically as she tripped a bit on her one standing foot, forcing her to lean forward and land the open hand on his chest to keep herself still.
Nine pretended not to notice her cold hand on his peck.
"Am I too fast for you, love?"
She rose her lip in disgust at him, "I was doing just fine, thank you."
"I can slow down if you want," he squinted at her, not actually caring what she wanted.
"Fuck off. Let me go," she hissed.
"Why? Because you're embarrassed that this was all it took to leave you immobile?" He asked. She bawled her fist up against his chest as if she was about to slam it against his skin. He sent her a deadly look, "Don't even think about it."
"Then let me go," she shook her hair from her face.
"Fine," he dropped her, having her almost fall on her ass. "But we aren't done yet."
"Why?"
"Because you've got a fuckin attitude that I thought Niall talked to you about."
She sent him a disgusted look, "As if a man can tell me how to act."
"Really? Because you've been awfully excited to do as I say in training."
"In your dreams. I do what you tell me to while we're here because the sooner I get away from you, the better I sleep at night."
He walked to the bench, grabbing his own water and drinking some.
"I'm glad I could be of assistance."
"You're an awful human being," she glared.
"Tell me about it."
"What do you need? I want to get the hell out of this place."
"We've got some shit this weekend. For The Nine. You have to be there," he said, looking away from her because he couldn't even pretend to care how she felt about it.
"What shit?"
"An event. At some fancy ass hall."
"Like a social event?" She asked, confusion evident in her tone.
"Like a business event."
This is the other thing Damian spoke to him about during their meeting. They had very few of these types of gatherings since he'd joined Damian and they started The Nine. It was more of a precaution to other organizations or gangs to make sure they knew they were still around.
They tended to do things under the table, and because of that, when tensions were higher, they needed to make it known they'd be involved.
Or else they would be purposefully excluded out of vital information for Uccello, which has happened once before when they didn't attend.
The last time they had one of these was almost two years ago, and it was a shit show to say the least.
One person was murdered during toasts, and a woman was kidnapped by somebody posing to be on their side. The "good" side.
Nine didn't expect this one to go any differently, but he hated these types of things. Mainly because it raised questions as to who out of The Nine was the assassin since he was usually very good at wearing his mask.
He got lucky with Parker.
Nonetheless, no one knew that he was the one going out and killing off rivals. They just knew it was someone associated with or in The Nine. And it made things very hard for them at the event.
"Why are we going? Isn't that dangerous?"
He ignored the slight worry in her tone, "It is. But it's for appearances and intel. It's necessary. You'll be there."
"I'm not sure I have anything to wear."
He didn't really give a shit, but he knew that Damian would.
"I'll get in touch with Lucy."
"I thought she wasn't that involved? Is she going to be at this?"
"Everyone in The Nine will be."
"Even Kite?" She asked.
He nodded, growing tired of her questions, "Fucker's got an eye patch now. But he'll be there."
She hummed to herself, tying her shoes securely on her feet as she sat on the floor.
"I'm not going to die at this shit, am I?"
He rolled his eyes, "Probably not."
"Probably not? That's all you can give me?"
"Yes, Bird. Now stop with the fucking questions," he hissed, grabbing his bag and walking out of the gym before she could say anything else.
She really did talk too fucking much sometimes. It was very frustrating for him, because some things were easily put together just by thinking about it.
But not with her. To her, everything requires a follow-up question.
And it was infuriating.
Nine wished he didn't know about her brother. The thought that she lost someone close to her made him extremely upset, because he figured that was why Niall was making comments about them being alike.
As if her losing her loser older brother was anything like him losing his best friend and role model of a sister.
Just because she was clearly upset over the loss didn't make her anymore like Nine than he was like anyone else.
He couldn't relate to her on that shit, and he never would because she simply wouldn't find out about Gemma. He didn't want her to know about that personal portion of his life, and frankly, he didn't want to know about hers.
But it's been forced on his lap numerous times.
When they did their background check on her, Niall practically threw the information of her brother's death onto his lap. Nine didn't look through it. He didn't care. He didn't care how long ago it was, how it happened, or how close they were.
No one's pain would compare to his.
So he ignored it. He pushed it to the absolute back of his mind and didn't think about it until the meeting today, when Damian threw it in her face.
He watched her grow to the brink of tears, her face become so beyond angry and pathetic that it made him sick to his stomach. She wouldn't know about pain like that, not really. Not like he had.
And she showcased her emotions so quickly.
He thought that was stupid. It was a weakness to her, and as wrong as it sounded, he planned on using it against her when he could. Just to see her that upset again.
She made the mistake of letting out too much, just like he had.
And just as she'd been doing to him, he was going to use it against her.