"He wants a rematch."
Marcus sat forward.
"No."
"That's what I told him."
"Good."
"But he's angry."
"Then he can be angry."
Rebecca lowered her voice.
"Marcus, I am worried he's going to make this worse."
Marcus looked toward the clinic entrance.
"So am I."
After the call, Marcus opened the video once more.
This time, he watched the few seconds after the takedown.
Walter stepped away.
He did not raise his arms.
He did not look at the audience.
He did not celebrate.
He simply asked Dylan whether he was all right.
That detail bothered Marcus more than the technique itself.
It suggested that Walter had not been improvising.
He had known exactly how much force to use.
He had also known exactly when to stop.
Marcus had seen experienced fighters fail at both.
He decided he needed to speak with Walter.
Not to satisfy his curiosity.
To understand what kind of man had spent two years cleaning Eastbrook's floors while carrying that much knowledge in his hands.
At 3:40 p.m., Marcus arrived at the pavilion.
He found Walter in the equipment storage room, replacing a broken wheel on a cart.
"Need help?"
Walter looked up.
"Only if you know how to use a wrench."
Marcus smiled.
"I know enough to be dangerous."
"That's what worries me."
Marcus laughed.
He pulled a second wrench from the toolbox and crouched beside him.
For several minutes, they worked without speaking.
Walter removed the damaged wheel.
Marcus held the cart steady.
They replaced the bolt and tightened the fitting.
When the job was finished, Walter tested the wheel.
"Good."
Marcus wiped his hands.
"About yesterday."
Walter sighed.
"I wondered when that would come up."
Marcus leaned against the shelf.
"I watched the video."
"Sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because you probably watched it more than once."
Marcus smiled.
"Four times."
Walter shook his head.
"That's unfortunate."
Marcus studied him.
"That wasn't luck."
"No."
"That was serious training."
Walter put the wrench away.
"Yes."
"How serious?"
Walter closed the toolbox.
"Marcus, I don't want to turn this into a conversation about me."
"Then let's talk about Dylan."
Walter looked up.
"What about him?"
"He's asking for a rematch."
Walter's expression changed.
Not much.
But Marcus saw it.
"Why?"
"Because he thinks you embarrassed him."
Walter looked toward the corridor.
"Then he has misunderstood the lesson."
"What lesson?"
"That nobody should be humiliated simply because they made a mistake."
Marcus considered him.
"You're giving him more credit than he deserves."
"Perhaps."
"Dylan doesn't like being corrected."
"I noticed."
"He'll keep pushing."
Walter picked up the repaired cart.
"Then someone should tell him that he doesn't need to prove anything."
Marcus watched him.
"I've tried."
Walter began rolling the cart toward the door.
"Try again."
Marcus stood.
"Why do you care?"
Walter stopped.
For a moment, the old man did not answer.
Then he looked at Marcus.
"Because I have seen what happens when a young man builds his entire life around never being wrong."
He pushed the cart forward.
"And because I know what it costs when nobody stops him."
Marcus remained in the storage room.
The words stayed with him.
They sounded less like advice than memory.
Before he could ask another question, Walter disappeared around the corner.
At 6:15 that evening, Dylan Krane entered Eastbrook through the front doors.
He was not wearing his usual relaxed smile.
His right shoulder was stiff.
His phone was in his hand.
He walked directly to Rebecca's desk.
"Where is he?"
Rebecca looked up.
"Who?"
"Walter."
"He's working."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Find out."
Rebecca set down her pen.
"Dylan, he's not required to meet with you."
"I want to talk."
"Then you can ask him when you see him."
"I've been asking."
"Have you?"
Dylan stared at her.
Rebecca continued.
"He has not agreed to a rematch. He has not agreed to an interview. He has not agreed to any of the things people are asking him to do."
Dylan's jaw tightened.
"I didn't ask for an interview."
"You asked me to arrange another demonstration."
"Because he got lucky."
Rebecca looked at him.
"Did he?"
Dylan's eyes narrowed.
"You're taking his side?"
"I'm taking the side of keeping this building professional."
Dylan leaned forward.
"Do you know what that video is doing to my academy?"
Rebecca remained calm.
"It's a video of you being taken down by an older man. It doesn't erase your record."
"People are laughing."
"People laugh at everything online."
"They're calling me a joke."
"Then stop giving them something to watch."
Dylan stared at her.
For a moment, it seemed he might say something he would regret.
Then he stepped back.
"Fine."
He turned and walked toward the training area.
Rebecca watched him go.
She picked up her phone and sent Marcus a message.
He's here. Please keep an eye on things.
Marcus was already on his way.
He arrived ten minutes later.
Dylan was in the training room, hitting a heavy bag.
Hard.
Too hard.
His right shoulder moved awkwardly each time he threw a hook.