Sermon and Kasia entered the gym, finding a run down array of cheap equipment rank with sweat. They heard faint chatter in a back room, ‘studio 1a’, and sloped towards it.

  Curtis and Zenia were inside, wrapping straps around their wrists and stretching. Luca greeted the new arrivals and lined everyone up.

  “I hired us this room so we can drill what you’ve seen on the videos, the grade I moveset of our self defence programme. And I mean self defence. Not assassination, not war, not shanking Nazis, Kasia. The moves in this grade are chosen because they cover common attacks and build on natural human instinct.

  These are civilian scenarios, no room for armed police or soldiers. Nor terrorists there’s no point - not until your training is second nature. That lot will have you deaf and blind before you could cry 'Rule Britannia', and I would expect you to cry that by the way.

  Finally: firearms. Everyone wants them, no one can find them. The day we do the game changes. Until then remember: the hardest soldiers would sooner face a machine gun than a dagger.”

  He pointed at Curtis, “tell me the first rule of self-defence.”

  “Uhh… dominant foot forward, present a small target?”

  “No. Zenia?”

  “Scream at them, I guess? Something to throw them off.”

  “Sort of but probably not. Sermon?”

  “One does not talk about fight cl-”

  “Heard it before. Kasia?”

  Kasia lit up. She had the answer.

  “It’s all in the training videos! Try to avoid fighting and run away if you can.”

  “Great stuff! Kurwa guys, the quiet one’s only outdone you a second time.”

  Kasia’s grin breached through. The rest muttered an apology. Luca paced before them.

  “The art of self-defence is to avoid the fight. To be fair to Zenia, screaming in their face is a good shout.”

  “Very good corporal…” Zenia winced.

  “We avoid the - yes Sermon?”

  “Why can’t we ‘ave riot guns like the drivers do?”

  “Because they’re expensive and hard to replace, and you are neither of those things. And since you interrupted me, you can go first. Step forward.”

  Sermon obeyed and was spun into a hold. Luca eased the grip but held him firm.

  “You’re all familiar with this chokehold, our old teammate Daryl loved them. 3 to 4 seconds until they’re out, 12 for brain damage, 18 and they’re pretty much done. Consider option 1 non-lethal, but if the police catch you they’ll know you’re trained, and deal with you as such.”

  He let Sermon go and summoned Zenia. Luca palmed her head and circled her onto the floor. He then raised her up and pulled at her shoulders.

  “Look. If I try to move her by her body, see how easily she resists. But if I yank her head…” he tugged her head back again, flipping her into his arm, “to move a body, use the head, the rest must follow. Now… let’s see if Curtis can land a punch on me.”

  He used Curtis and Kasia to demonstrate blocks. ‘Answering the phone’ in Curtis’s case - stepping into him to close all distance. In Kasia’s case, enveloping her wrist in a ‘V’ and taking her for a waltz.

  Everyone paired off to drill. The recruits struck and blocked, sometimes switching partners, sometimes being disoriented and loosed upon the whole team. Each had their go with the corporal alone, where he would offer feedback or, if they showed improvement, optional flair.

  They finished an hour later, exhausted, though Kasia swelled with confidence. Her strict fitness regime was setting her apart from her allies.

  She was more advanced.

  Luca gathered everyone up.

  “All feeling more confident now?”

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  “Yes Corporal Rossi…”

  “Well?”

  “Thank you Corporal Rossi…”

  “I did this in my free time. Keep practising - privately. We'll get another evening together if we’re lucky. In the meantime I’ve got some… news…” Luca’s face sunk. He cocked his head, “you’re going up a level. Our next meeting will be at local headquarters. Don't celebrate just yet, you’re going to meet the Sergeant Major. He will scare the shit out of you, and he'll enjoy it. I had to face it once too. Changing room’s next door. Clean up and get out.”

  The recruits did so. As Kasia left she noticed Sermon lingering around, close to Luca. She smirked until they blushed with anger, and left them to it.

  Alone, the two men waited quietly. Sermon sat on a weight bench rubbing his neck. Luca leant against the barbell, spinning the weight with his finger. He broke the silence.

  “How’s it been going? Since that guy, called you that thing...”

  “I got over it,” Sermon made a dismissive gesture, “if you don’t mind me askin’, how was… I never had to go that far with someone in a fight before.”

  Luca shifted his gaze to Sermon’s pocket. Sermon produced his vape and handed it over.

  “I killed someone. It wasn't my first. I don’t feel great about it but it has to be done. Do you have a problem with that?” his face was bleak and serious. Sermon shook his head. Luca toked.

  “You know you'll have to do the same one day, right? Or... have you already?”

  Sermon sighed, “almost…”

  “A vagrant?”

  “My dad. He was the type that bought into the supremacist shit even though they hated us. Guess he thought if he hated the same targets as them he’d be let off for his skin colour. Gays were one of their targets...”

  “He took it out on you?”

  “‘Course he did. But that wasn't the biggest issue. The biggest issue was Mum, always pussyin' out and takin' his side. The last time… when he really went for me... she tried to intervene. He gave her the same old trick: the old rizz. Dad could always switch in a second, adds a little bit of ‘I'm just bein' sceptical, I'm just tryin' to have a rational conversation'. There I was on the floor, lookin' to her for help... saw that turn in her eyes as she caved. Her weakness hurt more than his fists.”

  “You tried to do him in.”

  “I did. He won. I was out on the street. This one girl I knew at school owed me a favour. I helped her when she got up the stick, and she had ditched her family already. I called the favour in.”

  Luca chuckled, “Kasia…”

  Sermon took his vape back and huffed on it, “and you?”

  “My family played the heritage game and made it to Sicily, somehow. They weren't very Italian... The thing is I was a cadet growing up and I wanted a military career. I started selection for EUTO but my parents were mega-liberal. They called the recruiters up and sabotaged my application behind my back, told me cadets was already a compromise, that my desired future didn't reflect their values. It made them look bad to their friends...” he snorted and rubbed his forehead, “Revolution Britannia was kicking off back in England, fighting a good cause. So back I came...”

  Sermon tried to make his move. He stood and approached Luca, but received a palm on his chest.

  “Not here. And not at yours either,” Luca's head swayed to the door, “there's a club down the road, we can swipe each other in the pre-bar.”

  “That's what I was gonna suggest. I'm guessin' I have to pick the femme bar, since you outrank me.”

  “Actually, after your brush with America, I though I might let you play corporal tonight.”

  Sermon held his elbow up and lifted his head with a deep inhale.

  “O partigiano... portami via-”

  “Heard it before.”

  * * *

  Kristoff enjoyed his routine, stuffing the rizla with oily tobacco, propping the foam filter in, rolling it straighter than anyone else could. Tanya hunched on the floor by the coffee table, twitching and swearing, calming herself with her paper patterns. He handed her his orange juice and ruffled her hair, receiving a friendly smile in response.

  Stepping into the wrecked remains of the bathroom, he lit up. As the lighter sparked his phone rang. He sighed, until he saw the caller. Mike. He answered with intrigue.

  “Michael! Long time!”

  “Lad! What you saying?”

  Kristoff blew smoke through gritted teeth, “gone to ground with Tanya you? Still coverin' for the boss?”

  “For now. Just finished up a false lead on a maid cafe of all places.”

  “Oh yea? How'd the maids look? Any tasty treats?”

  “Rotten. You know those shows where they give women a makeover? Imagine one of those but the women stay on the 'before' stage, and falsely think this is something to be proud of...”

  “Heh; those cafes always have an intimacy club vibe.”

  “Oh there was cuddling going on for sure. I just handled their accounts for a bit so I could keep an eye on the clientele. Surveillance thought Reds were going in for a bit of smoked salmon. They weren't, basically.”

  “Sukyandaru. Well now you're out of contract, you have summat new for us?

  “Sending the details now. Double hit: one vagrant, one Red. Time to break out Lucille. And keep your mask on this time eh Kristoff?”

  “Get fucked. Typical bloody Andrez I shoulda known, everything's gotta have a PR spin,” he cast his rollie into the sink with the others, “alright send everythin' over. We'll make a start.”

  He hung up and returned to the lounge. Tanya was hanging up her newest stream of ribboned paper. He patted her arm and reached under the mattress for his sniper rifle, and his mask.

  * * *

  Kasia arrived home alone, and found Imany hanging laundry on the walkway. She told her to throw a punch, and led Imany's strike into a perfect headlock.

  Imany prised herself free and scanned the estate with feigned seriousness. She struck at Kasia again, bypassing her block and wheeling her into a bedsheet, which she wrapped up like a burrito. Kasia cried with laughter and wriggled free, only to find Imany casually vaping on her doorstep.

  Neither of them saw, hovering meters from their heads, the spindly drone lifting away.