[Author’s Note: We return to Pavrit, right after episodes 18-19.]
“Swill. How does anybody drink this garbage?” Rin lamented.
It was difficult for Pavrit to hear or see what was going on, especially as he struggled with his hands pinned behind his back.
“Tie him off,” Rin instructed, dashing the bottle of 40-year-old Port to the floor. It did not break, and she watched as the wine languidly wended its way into the Persian rug at her feet.
“Please, just take what you want.” When Pavrit heard his own quaking voice, he was appalled how banal the words sounded. Surely, he could come up with something better, a veiled threat or a non-sequitur which only would be understood too late. It was disappointing. Even after this long, he lacked easy wit on his feet and, worse yet, still cared. Of course, it probably would be lost on these two anyway. They had to be the stupidest burglars in the world. There always was one guy in a city that everybody knew not to mess with but without quite knowing why. Well, apparently not everybody.
Pavrit was too annoyed at the inconvenience to feel sorry for the couple. They had ruined a very fine bottle of Port, an indignity he intended to repay a hundred-fold. It had been some time since his routine, but it probably wasn’t a bad idea to practice now and then. In a sense, they were doing him a favor. This didn’t excuse their behavior, but he would try to make the best of the situation.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. This definitely would make him late for dinner, and it wasn’t a dinner he cared to miss. Normally, he’d plead a bit, let them stab or shoot him, wait until they dropped their guard, and kill them. But this time, he’d have to expedite things. Looking around, he spotted a suitable paperweight with a good grip and a sharp edge. It would make a mess, but he could come back and clean up later.
They were lucky he did not take things personally or care much for torture, particularly after his own experience with it. Pavrit wasn’t magnanimous enough or fool enough to believe in doing unto others as he would have them do unto him. Such presumptive reciprocity only had meaning for those who feared being done unto, and a couple of burglars posed no threat. But neither did he feel the need to prolong their agony, especially at the expense of a very promising dinner date. It would be a quick death, and they should be grateful for that. So few mortals got one.
Rin walked over and squeezed Pavrit’s cheeks. “You. Are. So. Cute.”
She quickly stuffed an old sock in his mouth and duct-taped over it before he could reply. Pavrit groaned inwardly. This would complicate things. He would have to wait until they left before freeing himself. Then he’d feel obligated to hunt them down. He’d huff and puff and seriously consider torturing them, but in the end decide it was too much trouble. Most important, he’d be late for dinner. That would take some explaining, and most likely cost him both a good lay and quite a bit of money.
When Daryl had finished tying Pavrit’s hands, Rin leaned over and whispered in his ear.
“Hello.” She spoke his old name.
Pavrit’s eyes widened. Who was this woman and how did she know his true name? And if she knew that, what else did she know?
Rin nodded, and Daryl pulled a plastic bag over Pavrit’s head, twisting it behind his neck. This wasn’t quite a garrote, but certainly formed a seal of sorts. It was hard for Pavrit to see or hear what was going on through the bag, especially as he hyperventilated in terror.
“Tighter, or it may get slippery,” Rin cautioned. “Oh, and you may want to step back a bit while doing it.”
Daryl gave her a confused look, but did as she instructed. Almost on cue, Pavrit’s trousers turned brown and a puddle of slop formed at his feet. A moment later, his head seemed to explode inside the bag, and Daryl’s grip slackened.
“Keep it firm!” Rin snapped. It took a few moments for Daryl to see that Pavrit’s head still was intact. He just had vomited.
“The puke will help speed things up, but we have to be careful. He can choke on the vomit, but he can’t be strangled. We physically must block the airflow from outside. Keep that tight over his face for at least 10 minutes. Then we’ll bag him and sink him in the ocean to be sure.”
Daryl nodded. Pavrit still was gagging on the vomit and struggling violently. Worse, the liquid had seeped between the bag and his neck, perfecting the seal. At first he tried to kick Daryl in the groin or stomp on his feet, but the flailing quickly grew more frantic and less focused. Within a minute, Pavrit began convulsing.
“Did you have any trouble pinning his arms? See, I told you it would work,” Rin announced with a self-satisfied air.
Daryl looked incredulous, and she laughed.
“He’s a Two. You can’t break his wrist. Try, if you want. It usually just will resist, like a stick that won’t snap.”
Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Usually?”
“Your hand could crack, or you could explode, or the room could collapse. But all those things are exceedingly unlikely. They also could happen back in your own apartment while you’re having a wank, and with almost equal probability. The simplest path is for his wrist to refuse to yield.”
“I’m glad you’re so sure when it comes to my well being,” Daryl muttered.
Rin poked him in the chest. “You asked to be allowed to do this. So quit your whining.”
She leaned in and smiled sympathetically. “But don’t worry. I always will remember you.”
“I’m sure.”
“Yep.” Rin clapped her hands together. “As the idiot who got blown apart by a Two. You’d be a cautionary tale for my next assistant.”
“Glad you think so highly of me.”
Rin looked at him. The boy was developing an admirable sense of irony. “I’d think less lowly of you if you did your job quietly. Children should be seen but not heard.”
“So you’ve said. I’m not a child,” Daryl replied dryly.
“Men too,” she smiled.
Getting no response, Rin studied him. “You seem humorless today,” she observed. “Even more than normal. Are you nervous?” There was no mockery in her voice.
Daryl still was focusing on his ward and ignored the question.
“Is a little puke too much for the big bad soldier?” Now there was mockery in her voice. “Maybe I should have gotten you a T-shirt with ’Student Killer emblazoned on it.” She rubbed her chin. “Though I suppose that could be misconstrued.”
Still getting no reaction, Rin rolled her eyes. “As I said, his wrist won’t crack. But he has no protection against pain. All the usual wrestling holds depend on pain to manipulate the body. If he really was indomitable, he could endure the pain and force his way out. Then you’d be in trouble.”
Ignoring Daryl’s annoyed expression, she looked at the messy bag and addressed the form inside. “But you are far from indomitable, aren’t you?”
An occasional shudder was the only sign of life.
Daryl was quiet for a few moments, before he turned his attention to Rin.
“But I always slid off of you.”
Rin pouted. “That’s a strangely unromantic description.”
“That’s not what I …,” Daryl began to protest, but she cut him off.
“I know what you meant. Yeah, you were stupid enough to try a few times before you learned better. Remember what happened?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t get ahold of you. Either your skin was slippery, or your clothing tore, or it burst into fluff if I grabbed it,” he remarked, thinking back.
“And it cost me some good shirts,” Rin noted. “But I meant the other stuff. Do you remember what happened?”
Daryl gave her an odd look, and she groaned.
“Well, apparently, a refresher lesson is necessary.” Rin meaningfully cracked her knuckles.
He looked at her with confusion. “Why doesn’t that happen when we make love?”
“Well, it would be counterproductive if I beat the crap out of you while you’re fucking me. We could try it if you want.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Daryl grumbled. “Oh, never mind. You’ll probably say it’s just the way these things work.”
Rin looked hurt. “Do I seem like that sort of teacher? You do me injustice, Daryl. What would you call this,” she gestured at the dying man in his grasp, “if not instruction.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Rin smiled. “Apology accepted. So what was your question?”
“Why are you only hard to grab when we’re fighting and not when we have sex?” He sounded contrite.
Rin stared at him for a moment. “It’s just the way these things work.”
Daryl shot her a sharp look and clearly was preparing an equally sharp reply, but she placed her hand on his and warned him to keep the seal tight. “Don’t let yourself get distracted.”
“Says the distraction.”
Rin snuggled her head against him. “Is that all I am to you?” Before he could respond, she laughed. “Although technically you’re the distraction. You really need to lighten up, though.”
“Well, I’m in the middle of murdering somebody. So no, not really the time to lighten up.”
Rin shrugged. “Suit yourself. Murdering people always relaxes me. You should remember that, lest you fail to relax me by other means.”
In reply to Daryl’s taciturn silence, she sighed. “Well, if you must know, that’s not because of ‘I cannot be harmed’ or any other protection a Two or Four would have. I told you I’m different. But if you were to try to describe an equivalent protection, it would be some combination of ‘I cannot be stopped’ and ‘I cannot be restrained.’ Those both are actual protections, by the way. You may encounter them.”
“A Protege with the first cannot have his movement impeded, while the second prevents them from being grabbed or held in certain ways. I won’t go into the details, since they won’t matter to you. What do you do if you meet an Eight or above?”
“Run,” Daryl replied, visibly straining to keep his grip on the bag.
“Incidentally, the Queen I mentioned has both of those as well as many others. That makes her very difficult to deal with. If you meet her the answer is much simpler. You die. Or beg. That probably won’t work, but it’s worth a shot. I can give you some pointers on how to beg, if you like. I’ve heard a lot of begging over the years, some of it quite good. Of course, I can’t tell you how to successfully beg. But who knows, maybe that sort of stuff works with her.”
Daryl was about to reply, when Rin snapped at him. “Keep tight, we’re almost there. He could be faking.”
Oh no, I liked Pavrit. I can't wait to see what happens when they run into an 8.