Chapter 5

Assistant Coach Moore was sitting in his office, doing the usual paper work that came with the end of the collegiate football season. He looked up at his wall, seeing a photo of the prior year’s team photo at the Rosebowl and shook his head sadly. "Just had to push our luck, didn’t you Coach?"
There was a soft tapping on his door, and Moore looked up from his desk again. "Yeah?" he called out a bit gruffly.
The door opened slowly with a light clicking sound, and a large, very built young man with the visage of a wolf stepped inside, slowly and uncertainly. "Co- Mr Moore? Can we talk?"
Moore’s face softened, and he sat back in his seat. "Sure, Bernstien. Take a seat."
Jerod sat down in the small chair in front of Moore’s desk, clasping his hands together. "What’s on your mind?" Moore asked.
"I need your help sir, I-" Jerod looked away for a moment, and his expression become sterner before looking back at Moore. "I need you to train me."
"Bernstien, son-" Moore held up his left palm. "I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m especially sorry that I let the coach convince me to keep your blood tests a secret..." Moore sighed in frustration. "But all that said- the school’s decision was the right one, the one we should have made to begin with. It’s too dangerous for you to play football against people who are..."
"Only human?" Jerod finished for him. "I understand all that, sir. I’m not asking for you to train me as a football player." Jerod looked over at a pair of worn, red gloves. "I want you to teach me how to fight."
"Fight?" Moore found himself beginning to stand. "No- no that is NOT a good idea. I think you should go."
"Why? Jerod asked, narrowing his eyes at Moore. "Because my father is Atlas? Because I’m the son of a criminal?"
"Bernstien..."
"He beat and tortured my mother, sir." Jerod told Moore with a glint in his eyes. "He came on to this campus, and he killed Officer Dewey. He almost killed friends of mine. And I couldn’t stop him because I- didn’t know pain. I didn’t know how to counter it." Jerod bowed his head.
"He’ll be back for me, sir. He’ll be back- and people I care about may get hurt if I can’t stand up to him."
Moore looked down at this bulking, yet morose figure seated before him and heaved his aching shoulders, resigned. Jerod felt a firm hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Moore leaning down beside him. "I had a father who beat my mother, beat me on occasion, too. If I could’ve given him a few good jabs back in the day, I would’ve." Moore slapped Jerod’s shoulder and walked to the door. "I’ll give you a call when my schedule clears, son."
Jerod began to smile, but stopped, and simply gave Moore and appreciative nod.