Three down. Four more to go. Brad delivered another kick to the guy in front of him. He held his wrist in one hand and delivered a free kick. It was filled with such power that the man felt his insides hurt. He was trained in martial arts. How could a skinny boy hit him! But reality was hard to digest. A teenager hit him, and he felt his strength dropping. If other people heard that he was beaten up by teenager, he would not be able to show his face. Brad did not bother to know what was going through his mind. He directly kicked him another time, and the man finally fell on the floor holding his stomach groaning in excessive pain.

Four down. Three more to go. Aiden came forward and directly punched the guy on his nose. He did not know whether that will work or not as he never fought in his life. The power-packed punch broke the man's nose. He got angrier and tried to fight back, but he saw Brad coming his way. Brad handed his cell phone to Aiden and said, "I got this. Do one thing. Call the police." Brad smiled at the brawny man and kicked him hard on the ribs. He said, "Do you know my specialty? I love to kick people. Just like I kicked your 'Young Master' in the evening, I'm going to kick you too." Brad was unusually calm for his age. He did not bat an eyelid before kicking him another time. He kicked and kicked until all his ribs broke, before laying his eyes on the other two guys who were fighting his friends.

He knew his friends could handle the other two, so he approached Aiden and asked, "Did you call the police?"

"Yeah. They should be arriving soon." As soon as Aiden said that, they heard sirens of police vehicles which was noticeable at that time. It was nearly 3:30 am in the morning. It took some time for the police to arrive at the subway platform. They saw five young teenagers, and five men with numerous injuries, sprawled across the platform floor, and two still fighting, as if their lives depended on it. The few policemen separated and handcuffed the men before asking, "What happened, Mr. Holman?"

"They ambushed us and we had to fight them out of self-defense." Brad said in a diplomatic manner. The chief of the police then asked, "You know our protocol. We need to inform Mr. Holman about this matter. What should we say?" The police chief waited for Brad to tell him, but Brad was silently watching the men. The chief understood his hint and escorted them out of the subway station. He said, "Mr. Holman, don't worry. I'll make them confess. I know what to convey to the Mayor."

Brad said in a cool manner, "Good. We need to reach home. Otherwise, our parents will be worried."

"Do you need a lift?"

"No. We can take the subway." Chris said. He was embarra.s.sed to ride someone's coattails. Brad understood his friend and nodded. They took the next train, and when they finally arrived home, dawn was about to break.

When Brad saw the reddish glow of the rising sun, he had a sudden inspiration, and he took his painting brushes and colors out, before standing in front of the blank canvas of his drawing room. Each brushstroke showed his pa.s.sion for painting. As the time went on, the canvas was filled with more and more colors and he named his painting 'Start'. It depicted the start of a new day. It symbolized everything that had a new start. With each dawn, starts a new day. After every darkness, comes light. Being satisfied, he kept away his tools, and slept.