Jocko Combat Tested Novels & Stories

My combat training was kicking in, and I tried to remove my emotions and assess the situation. Jax can easily overpower me and he has. He is more muscular, and I recall that he was a state winning wrestler. I know that he had trained in mixed martial arts, but he was drunk which made his reflexes duller. He had also smoked marijuana earlier, which I was hoping would help dull his reflexes more. Taking all of this into account I knew that I would have to take him by surprise, and to be quick when it happens.

Kayson placed Captain Yeager and the others down before he got up and looked toward Jock. Kayson said calmly, “You shouldn’t hurt people.” Jock sneered. “I’m a master-level practitioner. How dare a bunch of deadbeats to block my path? It’s already considered merciful for me not to kill them.” Kayson did not speak further, but he moved his body so swiftly that Jock did not even manage to react to the situation before he was blasted away by Kayson’s punch. Jock shattered the glass and landed on the road opposite.

Jake stated seriously. "I'll be inside call me if you need me." Cole stated following Gabby. Cole is already used to Jake's attitude he is rude and arrogant but he knows when to butt in a situation. Those punks had it coming. Jake hates it when someone talks trash about someone. He also has some anger issues. If things don't go his way he always settles things with a fight. He hates losing and he never loses a fight. He is an expert with man to man combat, gun and air strike. He was part of the air force for about 4 years. He was a great soldier. But more importantly he is a great friend. He never let his friends down.

"I'm going to enjoy this." "Less talking." Jack settled into a fighting stance. "More proving." Victor charged. He was fast—faster than Jack expected. The bigger wolf crossed the arena in two bounds, his claws sweeping in a strike meant to end the fight immediately. Jack wasn't there. Years of training—with Marcus, with Katherine's security specialists, with supernatural combat instructors from three continents—had honed his reflexes to a razor's edge. He slipped under Victor's arm, driving an elbow into the bigger wolf's ribs, then spinning away before the counter-strike could connect.

“I give you my word.” He nodded slowly. “Then let’s see if your strength matches your words.” Elder Marcus stepped forward. “First test. Physical strength and endurance. No shifting yet. Pure combat skills.” Jake’s voice came from somewhere in the circle. “Be careful.” I didn’t look at him. Gordon removed his outer jacket and handed it to one of the warriors. I rolled my shoulders once. The field was silent again, Marcus raised his hand. “Begin.” And just like that, it started, no more whispers, no more meetings.

Then the training began. Everyonpickeded the weapon they felt they can handle well and best at. Jack and Jacquard only collected bows and arrows and small hunting knives for themselves. The training began at once. The warriors took them through many combat skills and how to stay alive. Though the training was hard, few quit while others set their eyes on the goal, striving so hard. Jack and Jacquard also put in their best and soon they became famous with their skills and determination as the training progressed.

He finished wrapping the tape into a tight coil, slipping it into the pocket of his dark grey combat rig—right next to the heavy, hidden metallic token etched with the number 89. Jack smiled, reaching out to softly trace the scarred, calloused knuckles of Marcus’s left hand. "We are the perfect working gear, you know," Jack said, his expression completely open, devoid of the defensive walls he had relied on his entire life. "I don't need to fight here. I don't ever need to summon the Apollo arrows or learn how to hurt people. I just need to look at them. I take their hearts, and you take the hits." Marcus’s chest tightened painfully. He looked down at the beautiful, fragile boy.

They were a team. Gerald can be forceful--he can be the exact opposite of the facade he is showing the public. He insisted on putting Matthew on trainings. Unlike kids his age who plays football, Mattew was spending his weekends on firing ranges, survival camps and training with different Martial Arts teacher. When Matthew asked him why he had to do all those, Gerald simply said that as the future CEO of a global business, he's going to have many enemies and it was fit for him to be able to protect himself. Unfortunately, the trainings progressed and Matthew was soon not only capable of defense but also attacking if he wants to. Jonah knows this because he trained Matthew with hand to hand c

Wilbur raised his glass, he drank with Benjamin and Gordon. Gordon said, "Mister Penn, you have to know that ever since we started using the pills you provided and practiced your combat skills, our special forces team has defeated the Seechertown Special Forces Unit in a national combat competition in just two months. We have received great recognition and support from the government. They allocated a significant budget, and I've been authorized to expand the team. I've benefitted greatly from this." "That's great to hear! It seems my efforts were not in vain," said Wilbur with a smile.

He sent Jackson Emery to handle the cleanup. Jackson Emery had been our high school pack’s elite champion fighter. The elders used to call him 'The Behemoth' because of his monstrous physical strength, his thick muscular frame, his midnight-black fur, and those piercing sky-blue eyes. During our third winter, the pack trainers were already grooming his beast for the elite league scouts, hoping Jack would secure a high-ranking position within a major western territory. But a brutal knee-shattering blow during his final warrior trials demolished his career, forcing Jack to abandon his dreams and crawl back to finish his education at the local community outpost.