Revolutionary

It was ‪7:30 a.m.‬ on a dreary ‪Saturday morning‬ as Jackson stood against his 4x4 patiently waiting for Hope outside of her bio-dad’s compound.  He’d promised to pick her up and take her out to the bayou for a weekend of hand to hand combat training.  Something Alaric had been trying to do, but as a hybrid, Jackson’s ability to keep up with the teenage tribrid would far exceed Alaric’s.  It was time for Hope to learn what her mother had learned a long time ago… she could take a dirty and rough tumble with the boys and still be pretty.  Jackson’s eyes rolled as Klaus escorted his daughter outside, forcing him to exchange unpleasantries.  “Klaus…” “Jackson.  I trust you’ll keep her safe, because if you don’t…” “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  You know I will.  I love her like my own.”  Wrapping his arm around Hope’s shoulder, he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead before opening the door to his Ford F250 Mega Raptor helping her into the cab.  

She connected her phone to his sound system, scrolling through her playlist as if she were a DJ at a party, singing along with Harry Styles’ Watermelon Sugar.  Jackson couldn’t help but chuckle as he reminisced his youth of 80s mixtapes with the top down on his old Jeep Wrangler with Aiden and Oliver, running the roads.  He drove for at least 30 minutes before turning off of a gravel road and shifting into four-wheel drive going off road into the wetlands to get them to the newer settlement of the Crescent wolves.  Jackson had put his carpentry knowledge and skills to use, teaching the other wolves contracting trades which allowed them to upgrade from the old shacks and motor homes to modern cabins nestled at the water’s edge.   

Pulling up to his cabin, Aiden and Oliver were already there warming up and sparring with each other.  Jackson helped Hope out of the truck, taking her inside so she could put her things away and change clothes.  He led her to her room, consisting of a cozy queen-sized bed covered in plush blankets adorned with butterflies and a canvas on the wall that her father had painted of Rainbow Brite. His attention turned to a ruckus of cussing as he peered out the window finding Oliver in a headlock.  Poking his head out the door he yelled at his betas, “Goddamn, y’all quit it! We ain’t doing this for pecking order.  Please, for the love of God, behave!”  

When Hope reemerged, he led her outside to watch Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum a moment while giving her a pep talk.  “I know you’re pretty good at keeping your enemies at a distance, but there may come a time when magic isn’t an option and the skills to provide a good ol’ fashioned ass whippin’ will be the weapons you need in your arsenal.  First rule of Fight Club… we don’t talk Fight Club.” It was a cliché line, but one he couldn’t resist saying, nonetheless.  “Second rule, no magic. Like I said, it may not always be an option and you need to learn to defend yourself without it. Third rule, no shots below the belt.  When you’re engaged in an actual fight, that rule has some wiggle room, especially if it’s a boy trying to do question things after you’ve told him to go about his merry way.  But for all intents and purposes of keeping my guys and myself in an upright position in a fair fight, no direct hits to the babymaker.”  

He positioned her into a fighting stance in front of him.  “Out here, we don’t use boxing gloves or padding.  You’re not gonna have those available in a real fight.  The idea is to prepare you for the real deal when it happens, using your hands, your legs, punching, kicking, biting, breaking chairs, flipping tables... Whatever is available.  So I’m gonna come at you from my right and to counter my attack, swing your right leg up, making contact to at my left with my rib cage.”  Jackson demonstrated the move with Aiden before turning toward Hope.  “Ready? Go!” He swung a right hook, purposely missing her so she could have the advantage.  Her right foot swung lower than his rib cage, barely missing his groin, eliciting a soft growl as it made contact with his thigh before he grabbed her foot, tossing her on her backside in the mud.  He might’ve underestimated her ability to kick high enough, considering he was a bit taller than Alaric and her father. Extending his hand, he helped her up. “Not your fault. Not a bad kick either but perhaps we should practice getting it a bit higher...”