When Job left and the meeting ended, Ethan went out to the backyard. In the center there was a big pool. With a beer in hand, he dropped himself onto a lounge chair and, after a long sip, left the bottle on the little table at his side.
Now alone with his thoughts, he exhaled hard while looking at the translucent window in front of him. A new mission from the system was showing up; in just a few days it had given him two missions in a row. After almost a year, he still couldn't figure out how the system that had been given to him really worked.
—Wow… this is really new. —he thought to himself, frowning when he saw the system's reward—. Damn system, shows up and disappears whenever it feels like… —His eyes stopped on the floating text—. Skill "Radar"? And what the hell is that supposed to be? Well… I guess in the end it was worth coming with Job.
After fixing the gun, he leaned back comfortably on the lounge chair. In the living room, the curtains were already completely open, and he could see the family watching him from there.
Watching Ethan lying outside, Baz frowned. It wasn't about him, but about the amount of money Smurf had just handed over to Job and him. Despite everything, he couldn't help feeling uneasy.
He rubbed his face with his hands and asked cautiously:
—Smurf, don't you think it's too much? A third of the profits… and that's not even counting Marcus's share. In the end, we're barely gonna have anything left.
Deran also nodded and put his feet on the wooden table:
—That guy, Job… I know he has the needed skills, his reputation goes before him. But that other guy, the one outside… I don't trust him.
—I didn't ask for your opinion, did I? —snapped Smurf, leaving the wine glass on the table with a dry thud, his eyes lit up with fury—. The decision is already made. This ain't about money. It's revenge. For Craig… and for Pope. We're gonna hit with everything, or any idiot will think he can fuck with us without consequences.
Then Smurf turned around looking out the big window, giving his back to his sons.
—Job alone is worth every cent he will take, and as for Ethan, you can test him, push him a little see what he does, if he's with Job it's for a reason, but if not we'll just give him some insignificant task.
Seeing his three sons nod obediently, Smurf got up and walked over to kiss them on the cheek.
—Treat our guest well. After all, they've come from so far to help us.
—As you say Smurf. —exlcmaed Baz—
—Good, now take our guest to have some fun. You don't want him thinking we're bad hosts, right? —said Smurf, reaching out to pinch Deran's face with an ironic smile.
Ethan was enjoying the sun when he heard footsteps nearby. He turned his head to look at the man who looked like Hood.
—Hey, Baz, right?
—Yes.
The two shook hands again. Baz looked around and extended an invitation.
—Today's good weather, and there'll be good waves. Wanna go surfing with us?
—Sure about that? Never in my life I've touched a surfboard —said Ethan, pushing up his sunglasses while getting up.
—Of course, we'll give you a quick lesson; you look like the type that learns fast —said Baz, helping him up with a half-smile—. Come on, Deran and Craig are waiting for us at the door.
When he and Baz reached the entrance, Deran and Craig were already waiting next to a 76 International Scout, painted green, and a recent model black Jeep. They gave the impression of being ready to go; it didn't look improvised. In the back of the Scout, several brightly colored surfboards were piled up, strapped with thick belts.
Seeing Ethan approach, Craig raised his hand in greeting before fixing another board in the back of the Scout. Then, they all got into the vehicles. Deran and Craig started off laughing, while Ethan and Baz settled into the black Jeep. It didn't take long for them to catch up.
Both jeeps sped full throttle toward the beach, raising clouds of dust behind them.
—Do you know how to swim? —asked Baz, holding the volantary with one hand while his hair waved in the breeze.
—Yes don't worry, I won't drown —said Ethan calmly while watching the panoramic view.
He had never swum in the ocean, but how different could it be? Water was still water, Ethan told himself, though deep down he knew the waves of the sea had nothing to do with the calm of a pool or a lake.
—And where are you from? —asked Baz, giving him a quick glance before fixing his eyes back on the road.
—From the East Coast —Ethan replied, dry, without giving more details.
Baz barely smiled, just enough for Ethan to notice. He understood he wasn't going to get much more out of him, so he chose to let it be. Instead of insisting, he pressed the gas pedal a little more. The Jeep's engine roared and they began to overtake one car after another.
Each maneuver pulled honks and curses from the drivers they left behind, but Baz seemed to enjoy it. The coastal road stretched ahead of them, with the blue horizon of the Pacific accompanying the ride.
Ethan watched the man driving frenetically. The security he had felt earlier, when he spoke with Smurf, began to fade little by little. He realized that his methods were truly effective at keeping everyone under control; now he understood why Job said they were like animals.
Soon after, the two cars reached the coast. They followed a path that seemed well known to them until stopping behind a small bamboo grove that partially hid the view of the sea. There were already seven or eight other cars parked there, probably surfers. The roar of the waves crashing against the shore was clear, even from where they stood, and the air carried the salty and humid smell of the ocean.
Ethan got out of the car, and took off his floral shirt, threw the gun onto the seat, covered it with the shirt and shut the door. His car wasn't a convertible, so he left the gun inside, it was safe.
Deran and Craig also took off their shirts, staying only with their beach shorts while unloading the boards from the vehicle.
—Hey don't you want some sunscreen or you'll end up like a shrimp.—said Baz, pulling out a bottle of water and tossing it to Ethan—
Ethan uncapped the bottle, took a sip and shrugged. The sun didn't seem like much to him, with his regeneration ability it wouldn't be anything.
Deran's eyes lit up for an instant when he saw Ethan take off his shirt. He realized his reaction immediately and took a gulp of water, trying to hide it.
Compared to them, Ethan's muscles were more defined. Craig was bulkier, yes, but there was something in Ethan's definition, in the way he moved, that transmitted a different kind of strength.
—Shhh!
A sharp whistle cut the air, catching everyone's attention around them. Two blonde women, with sun-tanned skin and pronounced curves, walked forward sliding with a natural confidence.
Their hips moved firmly, the black bikinis accentuated their perfectly shaped bodies and highlighted their butts. Their golden hair waved softly with the rhythm of the sea breeze.
Baz, Craig and Deran were used to that kind of attention, especially Deran, whose wild blond hair always made him stand out anywhere.
Ethan clapped.
—Come on! What are we waiting for?
Deran and Craig exchanged a glance, determined to mess with Ethan, push him a bit, see if he had some character.
Baz, who had lived his whole life among them, understood their intentions instantly, but he had no intention of stopping them. After all, he was going to cover their backs in the Mexico job, and it could be useful to know if he had what it took.
Ethan grabbed a red striped surfboard and walked with the three through the bamboo grove to the beach. There were few tourists in that area; most were locals.
Sunset Point, the hidden jewel of Santa Monica for the boldest surfers. The beach stretched in a wide curve, its golden sands bathed in the orange reflection of the sunset.
The waves crashed strongly in the distance, forming perfect tubes that rose like liquid walls, challenging anyone brave enough to face them. Ethan could feel the tension in the air, a silent invitation to dive into that wild world and master the waves.
Ethan tied the board's cord to his ankle and, holding the surfboard, headed out to sea following the example of Baz, Deran and Craig already deep in the ocean, paddling with their boards. He lay down on the surfboard, paddled with his arms and swam toward the open sea.
Seeing his paddling skills, Baz felt relieved. As much as Deran and the others teased him, at least they knew how to swim. Still, he told the two guys not to go too far.
While the two fought against the waves, Deran was already standing on his board, roaring towards them. He shouted and turned quickly in front of them.
The board under his feet sent up a jet of water that splashed onto Ethan and Baz's heads.
—Bastard, fuck you Deran! —cursed Baz, raising his middle finger.
Baz wiped the water off his face and turned to say:
—Look, surfing is neither hard nor easy, okay? The most important thing is that you learn to control your body. You have to keep balance on the board and, above all, feel the strength of the waves under your feet. It's not about fighting the sea, but flowing with it, using its energy to your advantage.
Seeing Ethan's enthusiasm, Baz slapped the water.
—Come on, try standing up first. Try several times and don't be afraid of failing.
As soon as he finished speaking, Ethan was already standing firmly on the board. His body moved up and down with the water, but his feet were nailed to the ground, unmoving.
Ethan stretched his arms.
—What's next?
That little swaying didn't matter to him. After strengthening his body, not only had his strength improved, but his overall physical condition had completely improved, plus his combat skills gave him a lot of control over his body.
Baz was a little surprised, but he knew there were people with excellent balance. Then he straddled the surfboard and explained some tricks to Ethan.
Ethan remained standing on the shore, attentive, observing every detail of the sea and the precise movements of the surfers. His eyes didn't blink; he studied with concentration how they aligned, how they paddled, how they rose with the sway of the waves.
Baz, who was watching him closely, pointed out a medium-sized wave.
—That one's yours —he said with a smile.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He threw himself into the water, paddled hard and, at the right moment, rose with agility on the board. He planted his feet well, feeling the push of the wave as if the ocean itself was shoving him forward. The breeze hit his face and, for an instant, everything seemed to flow.
He rode dozens of meters, sliding over the crest, until he lost balance and fell suddenly into the water.
He emerged seconds later, gasping and shaking the water off his face. From farther away, Baz raised his thumb in approval. Ethan let out a muffled laugh. He hadn't lasted long, but he had done it.
Nearby, Deran and Craig clapped and whistled. Everyone knew it was Ethan's first time surfing, and that he had managed to ride a wave so quickly was impressive.
Ethan kept trying, and after more than a dozen attempts, his movements had become more competent, but still he slammed the water hard every so often.
Just when Ethan was surfing on the waves, a man followed him closely, he had a clear goal, and that was to knock him down.
—Shit! Watch out! —shouted Deran, waiting for the next wave. Seeing him, he yelled to alert Ethan.
Ethan was barely taking his first steps as a surfer, but he had already earned Baz's respect for his discipline, and he explained to him the unwritten rules among surfers, when he almost stole a wave, he explained that whoever is closest to the breaking point of the wave has priority. Stealing waves was not only disrespectful, it could also be dangerous.
—You don't do it, ever —Baz had told him—. It's the fastest way to get yourself beaten up or cause an accident.
Ethan was the first to paddle to the open sea and get into position. He had chosen his wave, he had read it well, and he was ready.
But just as he began to rise, he felt a presence behind him.
A shadow.
Then he heard the shouts.
—Ethan, watch out! —it was Deran's voice, torn with urgency.
He turned his head and, in a frozen instant, saw a dark figure advancing on the wave like a projectile, straight at him.
—Bang!
The waves splashed everywhere, and he was pushed hard into them, rolling with the sea water.
Ethan kept paddling and swam to the surface. When he emerged, Deran and Craig were lying on their boards, paddling quickly toward him.
—Are you okay? —asked Deran nervously.
—No, it's nothing. I'm fine. —Ethan lay on the board, wiped the water from his face and looked at the person who had caught the wave—. What the hell is wrong with that guy?
Baz also paddled from afar at that moment. He had just surfed a wave and hadn't noticed what happened. He thought Deran and the others were picking on Ethan.
The man who had taken the wave and pushed Ethan swam quickly. Deran rose on his board, waving his arms angrily.
—Hey, asshole, what the hell's your problem?
—What are you talking about, he shouldn't be here, this is not a beach for rookies like him. —answered the curly-haired man who had pushed Ethan, seeing they were only four—
His group of surfers were seven or eight, they were at a disadvantage, but that didn't mean the Codys would let themselves be intimidated.
They were all veterans and Ethan's movements were enough to indicate he was a rookie.
—Why don't you come for me, on the next wave if you have the guts —spat Craig with a crooked smile while hitting the water with his fist—.
The curly-haired man tilted his head and looked at Ethan with disdain. Seeing Craig's furious attempt to move forward, Ethan grabbed his board.
Craig, puzzled, turned and asked:
—What the fuck? Ethan let me go I'll teach that bastard a lesson.
He appreciated the gesture, but he didn't need backup. Not at that moment. Ethan paddled with determination, moved ahead with the board and stood in front of the curly-haired guy, staring at him.
—What do you say? —Ethan let out, without looking away— why don't we go to the beach and settle it like men or are you too much of a coward.
Few surfers avoided risk. This world wasn't for cowards, and everyone knew it.
Curly looked at him with a crooked smile, then turned his head to his friends.
—What do you say, guys? —he asked mockingly.
—Come on Jonny give the kid a lesson.-
The others shouted and whistled, some already with anxious smiles on their faces, waiting to see the beating they would give the boy.
—Of course —said Curly finally, turning back to Ethan—Don't regret it kid.
—Alright. I'll wait for you in the parking lot behind the bamboo grove.
Ethan smiled calmly and began to swim toward the shore on his board, as if everything were part of the game.
In a place like this, clashes were inevitable. Sooner or later, someone crossed the line.
From the water, Baz and his brothers saw what was coming. They gave Jonny and his group a universal gesture —one that needed no translation— and, without wasting time, turned their boards and paddled after them.
The sea was no longer so calm.
Ethan quickly returned to the beach, untied the ropes from his legs and walked toward the bamboo forest. There was an outdoor shower built there for visitors to wash with fresh water.
He turned the switch, and the shower above sprayed water, washing the sea water from his body. Turning around, Baz and the other three were quickly walking toward him.
Behind them, seven or eight muscular men also came out of the sea holding surfboards.
Craig threw his board to the side and stretched his arms and legs.
—Don't worry, they're not from around here. Probably some guys from Los Angeles. They're not a big deal —he said calmly.
—Really? —Ethan pushed his wet hair back and turned off the switch—. Are there security cameras here?
—No —answered Baz, shaking his head—. But better not use your gun, or Deran and Craig will have to find another place to hang out.
—I don't need to, I can handle it myself.—said Ethan, striding forward— Wait here, I'll be right back.
Seeing him walk alone toward the beach, Craig stopped, moving stunned.
—He's planning to deal with them alone?
—Seems like it —said Deran, brushing his messy blond hair while watching the seven or eight people enter the beach.
If he and his brothers had all been together, it would have been a bigger problem. But being alone… what was wrong with Ethan? Was he crazy? Hadn't he ever got his face smashed before?
Baz took a couple steps forward, crossing his arms, with a half smile on his lips.
—Relax —he murmured—. If they smash his face too much, we help him.
He paused, as if savoring the words.
—Besides… good chance to see if he's really worth the two hundred thousand we gave him.
Ethan had been watching Jonny's group from the water. They were bulky, yes, but their bodies lacked the stiffness and posture of someone trained to fight. Pure gym muscle, no technique. In Ethan's eyes, they were nothing more than street thugs with a good physique. Loud, impulsive… and probably slow.
The nearby surfers, seeing the commotion, also stopped. One of them, when he saw Ethan approaching the group of seven or eight, his eyes lit up. He dropped his surfboard and ran to the other resting area.
Jonny threw his board to the ground with disdain and, with a sneer full of arrogance, spat: —And what are you doing here, alone? Your buddies scared?
—Enough games, shut your mouth and let's fight.
Ethan flashed a cold smile. Without replying, he took a firm step toward Jonny and, with a dry punch, hit him in the face.
—Bang!
The blow was brutal: Jonny flew onto the sand, several teeth went flying and the golden beach was dyed with bright red. The men with him froze. Ethan had attacked without saying a word, no threats, just pure action.
Seeing the blood, they all stepped back at once, hesitating. Showing bravery was one thing, but facing real violence, a whole different matter.
But Ethan gave no respite. He advanced relentlessly.
Outnumbered and with his muscles tense, anyone else would have hesitated. Ethan, no. He knew the only way out was forward, striking with the precision of a surgeon and the ferocity of a predator.
The first came at him with a high kick, clumsy and predictable. Ethan ducked under the arc of the strike, grabbed him by the leg and lifted him up, slamming him into the sand with a judo technique that knocked the air out of him instantly.
The second came running with fists high. Ethan waited, took half a step to the side and caught him with a short hook to the liver, followed by an elbow to the jaw. The man collapsed without knowing what had hit him.
The third tried to circle him. Ethan spun quickly and threw a spinning kick to his chest, using the force of his hip like a whip. The impact threw him backwards onto the sand.
The fourth tried to grab him from behind, trying to pin him. Ethan lowered his center of gravity, spun hard and threw him with a sambo technique, slamming him face first into the sand. Before he could get up, a knee to the back of the neck knocked him out.
The fifth rushed with a scream, furious, without technique. Ethan lowered his guard for an instant, pulled him in and landed a rising knee straight to his face. The crunch of the nasal bone was clear. The guy fell like a broken doll.
The sixth was faster, moving in circles, looking for an opening. Ethan waited for the moment, blocked a strike and broke his defense with a flurry of boxing punches, finishing with a blow to the jaw, wich made him loose conciousness collapsing into the sand.
The seventh, the last one, hesitated and then ran away terrified.
One by one, all had been defeated and were lying on the sand, groaning, bleeding or simply not moving. Ethan stood tall, his chest heaving and his hands stained with blood and sand.
The beach was silent.
The scene left not only the watching surfers open-mouthed, but also Baz and his brothers, who had expected an even fight. But what they witnessed was a ruthless hunt.
Ethan just smiled and turned back to Baz and the others. The spectators quietly paddled away with their boards and headed to the sea, not wanting to get involved anymore.
Craig looked at Deran and their gazes crossed.
—Lucky I didn't prank him!
—Yeah! Yeah! That guy's scary.—Deran wiped the sweat from his forehead.
In his opinion, his brothers were already savage enough, but he didn't expect this man to be even more brutal.
—Well, I think we should leave.
—Of course —answered Baz with a smile, nodding, feeling more confident about the next step.
Now it seemed the two hundred grand had been worth it.
After such a commotion, several people met, talking and laughing as they walked through the bamboo forest toward the parking lot.
Ethan turned and Baz threw him a cold beer can.
Baz closed the cooler, took a sip and smiled:
—Police, right?
He popped the tab, and the beer foam gushed out. He took a long and heavy drink, then raised the can.
—What can I say, I wasn't a good cop —answered Ethan with a sarcastic smile.
Craig, already inside the car, banged the door.
—Hey hurry up, or the cops will be here soon.
With that, they couldn't keep surfing, so they had no choice but to go back home.