The former college linebacker stood in at 6'5 and weighed in at 300lbs, but Pete Richardson knew not to underestimate the seventeen year old circling him on the mat.

Gregory may be only 5'9 and 170lbs, but he had won just as many matches as he had lost.

In an instant, the large man grabbed at the smaller, but Greg grabbed his arm and attempted a throw. That's when Pete dug his heels into the mat, keeping himself rooted in place. Pete then turned Greg around for a rear naked choke hold, his favorite move and Greg's greatest weakness.

Greg remained calm and relaxed despite the immense pressure on his throat, and in one swift movement, he flipped the mountain of a man onto his back, striking his chest just hard enough for the match to be called.

"Time!" called the man in the corner.

"Good work, Greg, but you should consider hitting the weights more to pack on the pounds!" Pete teased playfully as he lifted himself back to his feet.

"I wouldn't want to get too big and be predictable with those holds," Greg shot back.

The two males bowed to each other as well as to the man in the corner, Nick Miller, who nodded back.

"Greg, that was a very good match. You really have improved since last time. I think I see you running your own school in the future," Nick said with a prideful smirk. "Pete, you are getting faster, but try not to telegraph your moves. Greg saw that move coming from a mile away."

Both males bowed again and joined the group of students waiting on their teacher's closing words.

"What is Jujitsu called?" Nick asked the group.

"The gentle art," the class answered.

"Good. Remember that when you have to, use it in a life or death situation. When a threat of force confronts us, we do not use force to repel it. Instead, we use its own force against it, and most importantly, we always look for a non-lethal end to a fight. Every life matters, no matter how small, and must be preserved. Class dismissed!"

As the class began to clear our, Nick approached Greg.

"Hey, can you stay a second?" Nick asked.

"Sure, but I have to head home soon," Greg replied as he packed up his things.

"It should only take a second," Nick reassured him as he led him into his office.

Once behind the closed door, Nick spoke.

"I think you should reconsider helping to teach."

"I don't think I'm qualified." Greg rejected the offer instantly.

"I think you're more than qualified, Greg. You were my very first student and the quickest learner here. Hell, I stopped teaching Krav Maga and started teaching Jujitsu because of you," Nick pushed further.

That's when Nick started to remember what it was like coming to the small town two long year ago, landing jobs as a bus boy or at a fast food joint. After the war, any money was good money for the six foot, 185lbs man.

One night, after getting off of his late shift at the local bar, he noticed a group of regular drunks harassing a girl in the parking lot.

"Is there a problem?" he had asked.

"Nothin' that concerns you," said the skinny leader, wobbling from side to side.

"Hey, let's just all head home, okay?" Nick had suggested to try and distract the drunken men long enough for the girl to slip away, but the men swarmed him and before he could react they pinned him against a wall and began their assault.

For any normal man, this situation would terrify them, but Nick had served for ten years in the army branch of New Asia where he had learned to fight from the best of the best.

He quickly stomped down on one man's leg, snapping it in half, and while the other men were distracted by their friend's scream, he slammed another's head into the brick wall with a sickening sound. One man turned and ran while the last of the group pulled a knife, slashing at him.

It cut into his arm, but it gave him the leverage to push the knife into the attacker's shoulder, making the drunk pass out.

The next day, Nick woke up to the police escorting him out of his apartment, throwing him in the back of their car. Two of the men pressed assault charges and demanded Nick pay their medical bills along with a hefty emotional trauma fee.

Nick's black belts in Krav Maga and Jujitsu made him a force to be reckoned with on the battle field, but in a court room full of spineless bastards who never fought another human in their life, Nick was deemed too dangerous and sentenced to two years probation and also thrown into a $75,000 debt.

Nick felt like he was at the end of his life at only thirty-one. He was now homeless, on probation, in debt, and to top it all off, he was forced to give self defense lessons to the local police as part of his community service because the increase of crime after the highway was build caught the usual laid-back cops off guard.

Most of the cops took it as a joke, not doing drills and refused taking orders from a criminal, but Nick noticed one man who was taking his training more than seriously.

A man named Jack Matthews.

After class the two men started to talk.

"You seem to be the only one taking this seriously," Nick had said, clearly annoyed and disgruntled.

"Well, I have noticed a big difference in how easy it is now to subdue my suspects," Jack panted heavily after the intense workout. "As long as it saves lives, I can tolerate this Hong Kong Foey shit."

Nick laughed so hard at the man's response, he almost fell to the floor.

"I've never heard it described like that before!"

"Let's go out for a beer and a chat, huh?" Jack soon offered and after talking over some drinks about Nick's past and arrest, along with Jack's goal to protect the town, the two immediately clicked.

"You know, these people around here are pretty scared to walk the streets since that damn highway was built," Jack said with a furrowed brow. "Maybe you should open up a school and teach some of that caramel dog stuff to them. It might just make them feel safer."

"It's pronounced Krav Maga," Nick chuckled, "but yeah, maybe I should."

Despite Nick's hesitation, that's exactly what happened.

After Nick's probation was up, he took out a loan and with a shining recommendation from the town sheriff, he opened the two sided dojo just off Main Street, a school dedicated to not just brutal self defense through Krav Maga, but also discipline and respect through Jujitsu.

After Nick's run in with those drunks, he learned the need for moderation and control. On his first day, Jack brought his fifteen year old son Gregory to learn some moves, and just a year later Greg was in the advanced class training with and beating people more than twice his size.

Everything seemed to fall into place for Nick, then. He moved into a nice apartment close to the school and the two men who were sueing him seemed to just drop off the face of the earth, taking their demands of money along with them. The judge ordered a halt on Nick's payments afterwards.

Nick loved his life and he owed it all to his best friend, Jack Matthews.

"Oh, did I just say that all out loud?" Nick teased Greg, the older man making a habit of telling the younger how much he owed his life to his father.

"At least it was shorter this time," they both laughed before Greg bowed politely and left the room.

Nick was always taking notice of what an exceptional young man Greg had become since they first met. When he first came into his class, he had bruises on his face and hands almost everyday Nick saw him and then suddenly Greg asked to learn Jujitsu.

Greg Matthews surely was an exceptional person, which made Nick all the more on edge when he looked into the boy's eyes.

The same eyes a man in New Asia had as he slit the throat of a mother in front of her child for stealing bread. The same eyes as the woman who hollowed out her boyfriend's chest so his heart would belong to only her.

Greg, a seemingly normal seventeen year old boy held those same blank, lifeless eyes, but...why?