After assigning tasks, Miles stood to leave.
"Hey! They all have jobs, what about me?" Ansel, the youngest among them, squeezed his way forward, glaring up at Miles.
"This is a high-level meeting. What are you even doing here?" Ryan teased, ruffling Ansel's hair. "Just stick with Mary and be her errand boy."
"Screw that! I won't do it!" Ansel shoved Ryan's hand away, his face flushed with indignation. "Why do you all get power and authority, while I'm left as a lackey? What, just because I'm new here?"
The room erupted in laughter.
Miles regarded him with an amused smile. "Alright, then. What skills do you have?"
"Fighting!" Ansel shouted, brandishing the blade tucked at his waist.
Anthony was the first to burst out laughing.
"Laugh at me, will you? Come on, let's go!" Ansel snapped, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Oh, really?" Anthony stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. "Alright, kid. I'll even let you keep your knife. Let's see what you've got."
Once the second most feared man in Chicago, Anthony's reputation for brutality was nearly as notorious as Andrew's. For a brash kid like Ansel to challenge him outright? Anthony wasn't about to let that slide.
"Bring it on!" Ansel spat. "If you don't, you're not even man enough to call yourself a fighter!"
"Alright, you little punk!" Anthony lunged forward, but Nathan quickly stepped in, gripping his arm. "Cool it, Anthony. Don't let a kid drag you down. Miles is watching—have some dignity."
Anthony simmered down, though his frustration was palpable. "Back in the day, I'd have broken his legs for half of what he said."
"Talk big, old man," Ansel sneered. "What are you, a washed-up thug? Killed your way to the top? Real classy."
The room fell silent.
Even those who weren't particularly fond of Anthony found the blatant jab hard to ignore. Ryan, unable to hold back, growled, "This brat is asking for it. Anthony, take him down!"
Isaac shook his head. "Kid, you need to learn when to hold your tongue. Keep this up, and you'll pay for it."
Ansel hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at Isaac. "Fine, old man. Whatever you say."
Miles burst into laughter.
Ansel turned to him, looking uneasy. "I can't beat you either, so go ahead and laugh."
"Oh, so I'm the soft target here?" Anthony growled, shoving past Ryan. "Alright, brat. If I don't break both your legs today, I'll take your last name."
"Bring it!" Ansel charged at Anthony, his blade swinging toward his shoulder.
Anthony sidestepped with ease, delivering a punch square to Ansel's temple. The younger man staggered, his vision swimming.
With a solid kick to Ansel's chest, Anthony sent him sprawling. Before Ansel could recover, Anthony grabbed a nearby ashtray and smashed it down onto his arm.
Clang!
The blade fell from Ansel's grip. Anthony ignored it, raising the ashtray again and slamming it onto Ansel's head repeatedly.
"You little punk! It's been years since I've had a proper fight. Let's see if some blood will finally teach you respect!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Anthony's strikes came down like thunder. Ansel flailed at first, landing a few wild punches, but soon he was utterly subdued, pinned down and beaten like a ragdoll.
Miles stood watching, arms crossed, making no move to intervene. He knew Ansel didn't stand a chance. Among the group, only Isaac or Nathan could hold their own against Anthony. His reputation for ruthlessness wasn't built on empty threats.
"Alright, enough!" Nathan finally stepped in, pulling Anthony away. "You're going to kill the kid!"
Miles chuckled, glancing at Isaac. "You and Anthony—you're really passing on the torch, aren't you?"
Isaac looked sheepish. "It's called mutual mentorship, alright?"
"Ha!" Ryan joined in the laughter.
Anthony spat on the ground before glaring down at Ansel. "Well, kid? Had enough?"
Ansel groaned, coughing up blood and spitting out two molars. His eyes blazed with defiance. "You… cheated."
"Move aside!" Anthony shoved Nathan away, picking up Ansel's blade. His expression darkened. "Brats like you only learn the hard way."
Just as he raised the blade, ready to strike, Miles finally spoke.
"Enough."
Anthony froze mid-swing, his blade barely grazing Ansel's hair before stopping. A few strands floated to the ground, severed cleanly.
"Gah!" Ansel let out a strangled cry, his wide eyes staring at the blade that had almost ended him. For the first time, his bravado crumbled.
Anthony leaned down, pressing the blade against Ansel's throat. "Say it. Admit defeat."
"I… I…" Ansel stammered, his voice trembling. "You guys… you're all bullies."
"Bullies?" Miles couldn't help but laugh as he squatted down next to Ansel. "Weren't you the one who wanted to 'test your mettle'? Didn't you pick the fight? You lost, didn't you? And wasn't it me who just saved your neck? Or are you so spineless that you can't even admit when you've lost?"