A caption appeared beneath the video.
OLD MAN THINKS HE'S A CHAMPION. FIVE GUYS OFFER HIM A FAIR FIGHT. HE RUNS AWAY.
Agrippa stared at the screen.
The video had already been shared dozens of times.
Comments were appearing beneath it.
Some people laughed. Others questioned why five men had surrounded a father in the first place. A few recognized Agrippa, although most seemed more interested in arguing about whether he had been afraid.
Then another notification appeared.
This one was a private message.
It contained a photograph of Larry standing near the playground fence, his face clearly visible.
The message beneath it read:
NEXT TIME, BRING YOUR BOY. LET'S SEE HOW BRAVE YOU ARE THEN.
Agrippa went completely still.
The kitchen seemed to grow colder.
Larry looked up from his drawing.
"Dad?"
Agrippa locked the phone and placed it facedown on the counter.
"Everything okay?"
He forced himself to smile.
"Everything's fine, buddy."
But his son had inherited Elena's ability to recognize a lie told out of love.
Larry put down his pencil.
"You look sad."
Agrippa crossed the kitchen and knelt beside him.
"I'm not sad."
"Are you angry?"
He hesitated.
"A little."
"At the bad men?"
"Yes."
Larry thought about that for a moment.
"Are you going to fight them?"
Agrippa looked into his son's eyes.
He remembered the promise he had made to Elena.
He remembered the man he had once been, the man who believed that the right technique could solve almost any problem.
And he remembered the photograph on his phone.
"No," he said finally. "I'm going to make sure they can't hurt anyone."
Larry nodded, apparently satisfied.
Agrippa kissed the top of his head.
Then he stood, picked up his phone, and called the police.
He was going to do this the right way.
He was going to document the threats, preserve the video, and make certain that every decision he made protected his son rather than his pride.
But as the phone rang, another thought settled into his mind.
The men at the park had not been acting entirely at random.
Trent had recognized his name. Mason had searched for his fighting record. Someone had gone to the trouble of locating Larry's photograph and sending it to Agrippa's phone.
That suggested planning.
Or at least a level of persistence that went beyond an ordinary argument.
And Agrippa had spent enough years around dangerous people to know that the most important question was not always who had thrown the first punch.
Sometimes, it was who had decided the confrontation should happen in the first place.
Mason Pike woke the following morning to a phone that would not stop vibrating.
His video had spread far beyond the small circle of followers he normally entertained with gym clips, prank videos, and arguments filmed outside bars.
By eight o'clock, it had accumulated tens of thousands of views.
By nine, strangers were arguing about it.
By ten, someone had identified Agrippa Fisher as a former professional MMA champion.
Mason sat upright in bed.
"No way."
He refreshed the page.
The number climbed again.
He had expected the video to attract attention. Trent had promised that the old man would make a perfect target because he looked tired, ordinary, and easy to provoke.
What Mason had not expected was the championship history.
Now the comments were full of people discussing Agrippa's career.
Some called him a legend. Others posted old fight highlights. One account had uploaded a photograph of Agrippa standing beside his championship belt, his face bruised after a five-round contest that had once been described as the toughest fight of his career.
Mason watched the clip twice.
He recognized the scar immediately.
He had seen it in the park.
The realization made his stomach tighten.
He had been filming a former champion while five men threatened him in front of his son.
And Mason had been the one encouraging Trent to keep going.
His phone rang.
Trent's name appeared on the screen.
Mason answered.
"What's up?"
"Did you see the views?"
"Yeah."
"That's what I'm talking about."
Mason hesitated.
"People are saying we were bullying him."
Trent laughed.
"People say whatever gets them attention."
"They're sharing his old fights."
"Good. That makes the video more interesting."
"Man, they found the threat I sent him too."
Silence.
Then Trent's voice hardened.
"What threat?"
Mason sat up straighter.
"The message. The one with the picture of his kid."
"I didn't send him anything."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know. Why are you asking me?"
"Because somebody used the picture from my video."
Trent swore under his breath.
"Delete everything."
"What?"
"Delete the video. Delete the comments. Everything."
Mason looked at the screen.
The view count had climbed again.
"You told me to post it."
"And now I'm telling you to take it down."
"But—"
"Do it, Mason."
The call ended.
Mason stared at the phone.