As training commenced, both Ian and Trevor made considerable progress in simple defense and fighting techniques. Since they previously held zero experience, the bar to be passed for any success was indeed fairly low. V praised even the small wins to build their confidence but after fight practice moved on to using the real weaponry, it seemed he may have offered a bit too much encouragement to the now cocky Ian.
“I can take on anything now!” Ian struck down imaginary villains with the very real, very sharp sword in his grasp. “Anything and anyone that dares to pick a fight with me!”
“Um no, not anything yet.” V shook his head, instinctively flinching every time the wildly swinging sword came too close for comfort. “And really, I can’t promise Albert and I will be able to prepare you for absolutely any kind of monster you might”—V gritted his teeth at seeing Ian now twirling the sword around in full circles by the handle—“Ian, I think it’s time Trevor had more practice again.”
“But I’ve finally really got the hang of using this,” argued Ian, still making figure eights in the air.
“That’s great, now give the sword to Trevor.”
Ian sighed. “Fine, okay.” Even though he made a baby step stroll toward Trevor, he still continued mock samurai moves. This may have been less nerve wreaking for his spectators if he didn’t do both while moving backwards.
“Ian!” Albert stood up from his crate. “Stop swinging that blasted thing around like it’s a toy before you or someone get”—he stopped as Ian tripped and fell on his side, followed a loud yelp—“hurt.”
V covered his face with both hands. “Tell me you didn’t just fall on the sword.”
“Okay, I didn’t fall on the sword.” Ian winced and rolled over to examine his right thigh, which now had an additional accessory pierced through it. “It attacked me from the ground.”
The vampire moved two fingers in his hand mask to peek through. “Ian, how can you get impaled on a weapon when no one’s even fighting”—he dropped both hands, sniffing the air—“wait, are you really injured?”
Ian looked from the sword sticking out from either end of his thigh and back to V. “Is this a trick question?”
“Wow, you have a lot of blood coming out of there,” said Trevor kneeling down to get a closer look at the area of red-stained jeans surrounding the embedded sword. “We should pull that out so—
“No, no, you don’t yank the weapon from a stab wound, I at least know that!” Ian slapped Trevor’s hand away. “That’ll make it bleed more.” He made a half turn to roll away from Trevor’s potentially dangerous good intentions. “You obviously aren’t going to be able to help me.”
V covered his nose with a sleeve while taking several large steps away from the delicious bleeding human. He shared a worried glance with Albert who, while attempting similar protective measures, let out an ominously characteristic zombie moan of hunger. “Ian, we really, really can’t help you either.”