Tommy had also been feeling uneasy lately. He took the bus and squeezed into the subway. Since he was shy, his former friends didn't dare ask him out, so he could only call and pretend to be sick. Upon hearing that he could get his allowance back, he immediately became more cheerful. His father poured a glass of water and sat down calmly, signaling that he was ready to talk.
Seeing his son looking at him with a smile, instantly grasping his intention, Malcolm almost lost his breath. He steadied himself and whispered:
"What would you do if you encountered a kidnapper? Have you ever thought about that?"
"Where's the bodyguard? Don't you pay their salaries?" Tommy asked, curious about the unexpected question.
That was the loophole! Malcolm thought to himself. Although Thea tends to overthink things and can be a bit paranoid, being cautious is never a bad thing. I could take down ten of her so-called bodyguards, but that's not something I can say right now.
"If you were with Laurel, you wouldn't want a bodyguard following you around all the time, would you?"
It was inevitable—anyone passionate about a sport or hobby wouldn't be happy with a bodyguard constantly watching over them. Tommy lowered his head for a moment. He wasn't stupid; in fact, he was quite intelligent. He knew there was something deeper behind his father's words. Biting his lip, he asked:
"What do you mean?"
"You need to have the ability to protect yourself—anytime, anywhere."
"You want me to carry a gun?" Tommy immediately understood what his father was implying.
"No. You need to be trained." Malcolm shook his head, speaking seriously.
Tommy chuckled, but when he saw that Malcolm's expression remained stern, his own amusement faded. "Are you serious? You want me to undergo combat training? Like special forces?"
Malcolm didn't answer directly. Until now, communication between them had been minimal. But through just a few short sentences, he had analyzed his son's current psychological state and pinpointed his weaknesses. That made things easier.
"When a crisis comes, will you be able to protect Laurel?"
Tommy nodded immediately. It wasn't absurd—what man wouldn't want to protect his wife?
"You don't have to go to the company tomorrow. I'll train you so that you have the power to protect her."
Malcolm had lived with Thea for over half a year, and after hearing many of her involuntary complaints, he had come to understand the supposed heroic desire to protect others.
Tommy was initially excited to hear he wouldn't have to go to work. But as he processed the rest, he felt the weight of a mission—he had to protect Laurel.
After a few seconds, he suddenly realized something. "Wait... You're going to train me? You have that kind of skill?" Narrowing his eyes at his father, he added, "Aren't you just a businessman? I always thought you were just a regular guy."
Malcolm, with his experience as a teacher, knew better than to respond with nonsense. Copying the same method he had used with Thea, he grabbed a bag of tennis balls and handed them to Tommy.
"Throw them in the air. The rest is up to me."
However, the first lesson didn't go well. Tommy had no coordination at all. His mind was still fixated on his father's martial skills rather than his own training. He could hold a tennis ball just fine, but when he threw them all at once, it was a disaster.
Watching the balls fly in all directions, Malcolm felt his patience wearing thin.
"One by one!" he commanded.
Slowly but surely, Malcolm managed to guide the training. Tommy was impressed by his father's precision, but instead of focusing on learning, he asked a question Oliver would have asked:
"Why not just use a gun?"
At that moment, Malcolm understood exactly how Yao Fei had felt when trying to teach Oliver. Why was this so difficult? At least Thea never asked such dumb questions!
Sighing, he tried to reason with him. "A firearm is useless against someone who is well-trained."
But Malcolm wasn't Thea. His persuasion skills weren't great. Besides, now that he was older, he knew a short-range gunshot could still kill him. All he could do was quote an old ninja saying:
"A firearm is the tool of the weak."
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He should have just kept quiet. From Tommy's expression, it was clear he didn't understand the deeper meaning behind the phrase.
Malcolm sighed and tried again. "After my training, you'll be able to dodge bullets or take evasive action as soon as the shooter raises their weapon."
Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? So you can do that?"
What else could Malcolm say? He could only bite the bullet and answer firmly:
"Yes, I can."
At the same time, he thought to himself: I need to find a way to avoid proving it... Maybe saying I'm injured and can't demonstrate my full abilities will work.
Fortunately, Tommy didn't insist. He was too focused on training.
"Okay, I believe you. How do we start? Where are we going to train?"
Malcolm thought for a moment. Forget it… As usual, we're going to the dense forest. He was already used to playing the role of teacher, and now he had yet another student.
Once they arrived, Malcolm applied the same training he had used with Thea. Five minutes later, he regretted it. Tommy was intelligent and quick-witted, but his physical condition was… concerning.
To put it bluntly: he had no talent at all.
Years of indulging in nightlife had ruined his stamina. Comparing his skills to Thea's was like comparing someone ten miles ahead to someone just starting the race. And they were both his children! How could the gap be so vast?!
The entire night, Malcolm had Tommy try to hit a target just ten meters away. If he remembered correctly, Thea had nailed her first shot and immediately moved on to the next level. When Malcolm had trained in Tibet, it had taken him three days. But Tommy… Tommy was only twenty! And yet…
Despite everything, Tommy was persistent. He refused to give up, and that earned Malcolm's respect.
As training continued, their father-son relationship began to warm up. Tommy no longer resisted Malcolm as much.
When Malcolm finally sat on the ground to rest, he silently checked the bandage on his ribs and noticed the wound had reopened. Before he could cover it, Tommy turned and saw the blood.
"What happened to you? Are you okay?"
Malcolm felt that, in that moment, all the effort had been worth it—his son was genuinely worried about him. But he couldn't tell him the truth.
Thinking quickly, he came up with an excuse. "Lately, an underground force has been rising in Star City. I investigated them… and ended up getting injured."
Tommy had no idea that his father's so-called underground force was actually him. He simply felt that Malcolm was a true, unsung hero.
Now, determined, he declared:
"Don't worry. I'll be careful… and I'll find the bastard who hurt you!"