Chapter 179: The Colors Spread
There was a big part of Joe that had already suspected this would happen. Honestly, he’d braced himself for it the moment he stepped onto their turf. That was why, as soon as he delivered the last of his message, he didn’t waste a second, he spun on his heel and bolted, not even looking back to see the expressions on their faces.
The boys from Clapton High didn’t hesitate either. As soon as they registered that Joe was on the move, they lunged after him like a pack of wolves on the scent.
"Running away already? You come here thinking you’re some hotshot, and now you can’t even stand and fight? Get back here!" one of them yelled, their voices echoing across the school grounds.
Joe shot a quick look over his shoulder but didn’t slow down. "Yeah, easy for you to say with a whole squad chasing after me! No thanks!" he shouted back, dodging around the corner of the building and sprinting along the side of the school.
Just as he rounded the edge, Joe caught sight of another group of kids sauntering up from the opposite side. Their uniforms were just as rumpled, their attitudes just as rough, it was clear they were part of Rick’s delinquent crew. His stomach dropped. Seriously, does no one in this school actually go to class? And where are all the teachers? Is everyone just pretending not to see this? he wondered in disbelief.
The newcomers didn’t need a second invitation. When they spotted Rick and the others in hot pursuit, they sprang into action, fanning out to cut off Joe’s escape.
One of them swung at Joe as he passed, but Joe ducked under the wild punch, weaving through the group like he was born to dodge trouble. He twisted and sidestepped, managing to slip through the cracks before anyone else could get a grip on him.
"Damn, that guy’s nimble! No wonder they sent him to deliver the message," one of the delinquents muttered, eyes wide as Joe slipped past yet another grasp.
"Fast, but not as fast as me!" another challenged, pushing off from the crowd and sprinting ahead of the others. With surprising speed, he slid into Joe’s path, trying to block him off completely.
But Joe was ready. His fists shot out in a rapid-fire blur, a sharp jab, then another, and a third just for good measure. The student’s head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground, out cold before he hit the pavement.
The rest of the group was close behind, their footsteps pounding against the concrete as they tried to close in. Joe didn’t stop to celebrate, he just sucked in a deep breath, heart hammering in his chest, and threw himself into another sprint, pushing his legs to the limit as he tore down the sidewalk.
"Don’t let him get away!" Rick shouted from behind, his voice cutting through the chaos. "He’s just sprinting! Keep after him, he’ll tire himself out soon enough!"
The chase stretched on, growing more desperate by the second. Even after Joe finally cleared the edge of the school grounds, he could still hear the shouting behind him, still see the figures chasing him through the streets. But as he pushed himself further, glancing back between gasps for air, he started to notice something, one by one, his pursuers were falling back, dropping out of the chase as their energy flagged.
To the point where there was only one person still running.
’What the heck is wrong with that kid?!’ Rick thought, his breath starting to grow uneven. ’Isn’t he going to get tired or something?’
But what none of them realized, what not a single one of the Clapton boys chasing him could have guessed, was that Joe had two big advantages on his side.
First, part of Joe’s regular boxing training, set by his mentor Steven, involved high-intensity sprinting. Three minutes of running at full speed. No breaks. No slowing down. Just a relentless push until the timer rang. It mimicked the exact length of a boxing round and was designed to build not only speed but stamina, stamina that could carry him through a flurry of punches, through dodging, weaving, and striking when others were gasping for breath.
That was why Joe could keep up his blazing pace with barely a hiccup in his stride.
And the second reason? That was all thanks to the harsh penalties Steven enforced. Every time Joe messed up, every time his form slipped even a little on his form, he had to run a mile. No excuses. No shortcuts. Just him and the road.
Over time, those punishments had done more than just correct his technique. They had built a foundation of endurance that most high school students couldn’t even dream of. So even when Joe was tired, truly tired, he could still keep going, just like he was doing now, leaving the others in the dust.
Eventually, Rick came to a skidding halt, bending over as he braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His chest rose and fell like a jackhammer, and his shirt clung to him with sweat. He couldn’t even see Joe anymore. The guy had vanished into the streets.
A minute or so later, the rest of the students caught up to him.
"You catch him?" one of them asked, panting.
"No," Rick muttered, shaking his head. "That guy... he’s got serious stamina. And not just that, he can throw a hell of a punch too."
"Damn, man..." one of his friends said, still hunched over and wheezing. "Rick, I’m not gonna lie to you. We’ve met three people from this Bloodline group now... and all of them have been freakishly strong. Like, superhuman strong. You really think we’re gonna be okay?"
Rick slapped his friend firmly on the back as he straightened up and started walking back toward the school.
"No one’s ever gotten up after being hit by my fist," Rick said confidently. "And that includes full-grown adults, some of them built like brick walls. People say I’ve got a punch that could rival Hercules himself!"
A cocky grin spread across his face.
"When I go up against this Max guy, I’ll make sure he remembers what it feels like to get hit by the strongest punch of his life. And if Bloodline sent their best people here... I’ve got a feeling we’ll be meeting him tomorrow."
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Joe had safely returned to the school in the end. He took off his jacket before stepping inside and wasted no time explaining to the others everything that had happened.
It was, by all accounts, a complete success.
Joe couldn’t help but brag about how he had managed to escape hundreds of students who had chased him down, and how, according to him, he had taken out at least fifty of them along the way. He was so proud of himself that he even started worrying Clapton High might not show up for the big fight, simply out of fear after witnessing his performance.
Both Jay and Max listened to the story with amused smiles, not interrupting, just letting Joe enjoy his moment. After all, tomorrow was going to be a big day. Everyone knew it. What they didn’t know was that a few unexpected surprises were already in motion.
Later that day, as Jay made his way to his apartment block, he spotted a figure coming down the stairwell across from him.
’Am I seeing things?’ Jay blinked and rubbed his eyes. ’Was that... the guy who’s always by Max’s side? What was his name again? Aron?’
Before he could call out, the man was already gone.
Jay moved forward and noticed a large square box placed just outside his door. He bent down, picked it up, and brought it inside. Setting it on the kitchen counter, he popped open the lid and was immediately greeted by the bold, unmistakable logo of the Bloodline group staring right at him.
"This... what is this? A uniform?"
Sitting right on top of the neatly folded contents was a small note, short and to the point:
[Max asks that you wear this tomorrow at the event.]
Jay pulled the clothing from the box and held it up. His eyes widened in surprise, it was exactly his size. The fabric felt premium, better than anything he’d ever touched before, certainly not like the cheap gym clothing he was used to.
But as he turned the jacket around, his expression suddenly shifted.
’Wait... is the inside... pink?!’
Across town, Aron had just returned to his car. He slid into the passenger seat, a pleased grin on his face.
’All delivered. Just like Max asked,’ he thought as he reached for the final box sitting on the seat beside him.
He opened it and found a Bloodline jacket identical in style to the others. Holding it up, he studied the design. It wasn’t exactly to his usual taste, Aron was the kind of man who preferred suits, sharp lines, and subtle elegance. Still, he gave it a fair chance. As he turned the jacket over and caught a glimpse of the silky interior, his eyes lit up.
The inside was a sleek, metallic silver.
"I like this color," Aron murmured to himself, smiling.
Finally, there was one more person who had received a delivery that evening.
Steven had just wrapped up training and sent all his students home. Tired but curious, he opened the box that had been left for him.
Inside, folded neatly, was the same Bloodline jacket.
He pulled it out and turned it over, inspecting it carefully. When he noticed the inner lining, a bright grin crept across his face.
It was red.
"Haha, these kids," Steven chuckled. "They really do come up with some crazy stuff."
His fingers brushed over the inside of the jacket as he remembered something Max had once said to him.
’You’re my red ranger.’
Steven laughed again, shaking his head.
"I guess he was serious after all," he said. "But now it’s got me wondering... Red’s usually the leader’s color, right? So what the heck color did Max give himself?"