Old Hutch threw Leonel out when they reached the training ground. A normal person might have fallen and rolled a couple times, but Leonel was able to regain his bearing and land on his feet, a helpless expression in his eyes.
The old man walked to the side toward a rack of weapons. Well, one might call it a rack of weapons, but it was more accurate to call it a rack of machetes. This old man apparently didn't allow any other weapons to enter his sight.
The training ground was old and dilapidated. It was located in the basement of a place Leonel could only assume was Old Hutch's home. The ground was built of broken concrete, the ceilings were covered in half shattered light bulbs that probably hadn't appeared in a home since the 20th century, and there was a faint musty smell of sweat that hung in the air.
"Old Hutch, I've told you again and again that I have no interest in using a machete as my weapon. I use spears."
