But Isaac was rolling now, drunk on his own adrenaline. "You look around this room," Isaac told his class, gesturing broadly. "Most people are walking victims. They're hunched over, looking at their phones, or just staring at the floor, waiting to be victimized."
Isaac's eyes scanned the gym and landed squarely on Cole. Cole was sitting twenty feet away, staring at the floor, rotating his bad shoulder.
"Look over there," Isaac said, his voice ringing clear across the room without a hint of discretion. "Perfect example. No offense to the guy, but look at the body language. Shoulders rounded, head down, zero situational awareness. If a threat walked through that door right now, he'd be the first one taken out. He's radiating weakness."
A few of the students shifted uncomfortably. A couple of them turned to look at Cole. Cole didn't stop his exercise. He didn't look up. He heard every word, of course; his hearing was fine. He just didn't care.
He had spent fifteen years in the Navy SEALs doing things in the dark that these men watched movies about on Sunday afternoons. He had buried six of his closest friends. He had woken up screaming so many times that he eventually just stopped sleeping. The opinions of a guy who charged a hundred and fifty bucks a month to teach wrist locks in a strip mall didn't even register on his emotional radar.
"He's checked out," Isaac continued, sensing the slight hesitation in his audience and doubling down to regain their awe. "That's a prey mindset. You can't fight if you don't even know you're in a war."
*Just ignore it,* Cole thought, letting the tension out of the band. *Three more sets of fifteen, then go home. Feed the dog. Watch a documentary. Ignore the noise.*
But Isaac wasn't satisfied with a passive prop. He needed to make a point. The class was dragging, and he needed a spike in energy—a live demonstration of his philosophy.
"All right, let's look at the mechanics of an ambush," Isaac said, clapping his hands again. "Follow me."
---
Isaac stepped off the mats, his bare feet patting softly against the rubberized flooring of the weight area. His students trailed behind him like ducklings following their mother.
Cole heard the approach. He didn't need to look up to know the trajectory. He could hear the heavy, confident heel strikes of Isaac, followed by the shuffling, hesitant steps of the students. Cole let out a long, slow exhale through his nose. He carefully placed the green resistance band on the bench beside him, keeping his eyes fixed on his own worn-out sneakers.
*Please,* Cole thought. It was a genuine plea to the universe. *Just walk past me. Go do your cardio. Let me be an old man in peace.*
"Hey, buddy."