His gaze drifted to the back of the room. It swept past the eager faces and landed on Maya. She was the only person not raising her hand, not making eye contact, simply existing in her own space. To Vance's predatory ego, her calm detachment looked like weakness. It looked like apathy. And he detested apathy in his presence.
"You there," Vance said, pointing a finger directly at her. "Yes, you. The young lady in the back. In the gray shirt. You look like you’re about to fall asleep on my mats."
A collective murmur rippled through the crowd of six hundred. Heads turned, eyes locking onto Maya.
Maya didn't flinch. She opened her eyes fully, looking at Vance. She didn't point to herself or look around confused. She simply nodded, uncrossed her legs with fluid grace, and stood up.
"Come on down," Vance coaxed, his tone dripping with a patronizing warmth. "Don't be shy. Let's give her a hand, folks!"
Polite, somewhat condescending applause echoed through the cavernous room as Maya made her way down the long aisle of seated martial artists. She walked silently, her steps light, her posture perfectly aligned. She stepped onto the central elevated mat where Vance stood.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" Vance asked, holding the microphone close to his mouth so the entire hall could hear.
"Maya," she said. Her voice was soft, but clear.
"Maya. Great. Now, Maya, you don't look like you spend a lot of time in the trenches," Vance chuckled, looking her up and down. He noted her lack of heavily taped fingers, her simple attire, her quiet demeanor. "Do you train, or did you just wander in here looking for the yoga class?"
A wave of laughter erupted from the crowd. It was the harsh, sycophantic laughter of followers eager to please their leader.
Maya’s expression remained perfectly neutral. She didn't cross her arms defensively. She didn't glare. She simply looked at him, her dark eyes entirely devoid of fear or embarrassment.
"I train," she said simply.
"Right, right," Vance smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Well, today, we're going to show these good people how 'The Sterling Method' can take someone of your... let's say, 'gentle' disposition, and turn you into a weapon. But first, I need to show them what happens when someone tries to resist my structure."
Vance turned to the crowd, walking a slow circle around Maya as if she were an exhibit.
"Notice her posture," Vance projected to the audience. "Relaxed. Too relaxed. There’s no kinetic tension. If someone attacks her right now, she has to build the energy to react. By then, it’s too late. I am going to grab Maya by the lapels—or, in this case, the shoulders—and I’m going to demonstrate how easily a larger, stronger attacker can break a smaller person's root."
He turned back to Maya, offering a condescending smile. "Now, Maya, I want you to resist. Try to stand your ground. Don't let me move you. I won't hurt you, I promise. Just brace yourself."
Maya looked at him. "You want me to resist?"
"Give it everything you've got," Vance laughed, playing to the crowd. "Don't hold back on my account."
Vance stepped in, his movements sharp and theatrical. He reached out with two large, heavily calloused hands and clamped them down onto Maya’s shoulders. He intended to yank her forward abruptly, demonstrating a shock-pull that would undoubtedly cause her to stumble clumsily into his chest, proving his point about 'kinetic dominance.'