Episode 22

(Washington DC, March 11, 1995)

“What will happen to him?” Daryl asked, his attention once again on Pavrit.

Rin walked over and tapped on Pavrit’s head through the bag. “Still in there, are you? Be grateful. You won’t feel anything. This is the easiest way out.” She turned to Daryl, and Pavrit could only make out a distant, muffled voice. The pounding in his head was agonizing.

“Well, if we don’t go all the way, his brain will die and he’ll be a vegetable. Eventually he’ll dehydrate or starve to death, though. Your choice,” Rin explained. This occasioned a slight resurgence in struggling, as Pavrit registered her distant words. He didn’t want to be a vegetable. He had done nothing to deserve that. Why was this happening to him?

As the light and pain subsided, he heard only part of Rin’s final instructions. “Just keep at it. Without air, his whole body will die. It won’t decay and the cells won’t lyse, so in theory it could be revived. But in reality, the damage will be too severe. And even if they did find a way to revive the body, he will be gone. His mind, personality, all the connections in his brain. He’d just be a dysfunctional body without a workable brain.”

“Can’t he still be a threat?”

Rin shrugged. “This is the most we can do. He’s pretty much indestructible, and that can’t be undone. All we can do is encumber him. If somebody clever manages to find a way to make use of him, then we’ll just have to deal with it. If you’re really worried, we can drop him in a volcano. He will burn after a while at really high temperatures.”

“Really? I thought you said he was indestructible.”

“I said ‘pretty much indestructible.’ There’s a big difference between indestructible and pretty-much-indestructible, though most people don’t realize that until it matters.” She smiled at Pavrit, before returning her attention to Daryl.

“I already explained this to you. Remember what I said about ‘I cannot be harmed?’ He can’t be slain by violence or burned — up to a point. There’s a separate protection for more extreme and sustained heat. He’s just a Two. He doesn’t have it.”

Daryl thought for a moment. “Shouldn’t we do that then?”

“It’s your shitshow. If you feel like lugging a body to an active volcano and tossing it in, then go ahead. But you’re the one doing it. And you can’t just walk up to a lava flow like some damned tourist. If it’s cool enough for you to get close, it’s too cool to burn him. There’s only a few full open vents at the moment, and you’ll have to drag him to the mouth of one of those. You ever read Lord of the Rings?”

Daryl shook his head.

“Suffice to say it will suck. For you. I’ll be at home thinking up smug things to say if you make it back. And that’s a big if.” Rin waited for an answer, smiling. “Well, what’s it going to be, tough guy?”

By now Pavrit had stopped convulsing, and had fallen limp. Whether he was dead or just brain-dead was unclear. “Keep tight,” Rin ordered, noticing Daryl’s slackening grip.

He suddenly looked at Pavrit. “Oh, is he still alive?”

Rin bent over and examined the slumped figure closely. “No. But it’s pretty nasty in that bag. Here.”

She handed Daryl the roll of duct tape. He just stared with no sign of comprehension, and she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Tape it around and make a seal, genius. Unless you want to deal with that, as well as this.”

She gestured at the unpleasant brown mass which had commingled with the port to form odd patterns on the rug.

“I don’t think that’s going in the estate sale.”

Seeing the blank look on Daryl’s face, Rin shook her head slowly. “As always, table for one.”

Daryl did as instructed, and they placed the body in a large black garbage bag she had prepared.

“Say, Rin?” he asked in a quiet voice, double-tying the bag to be sure.

“Say, Daryl?” she asked back, her voice sharp with impatience.

“Why do you care about vomit and shit?”

Rin gave him a nasty look. “How squalid do you think I am?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Daryl hastened to explain. “I thought the reason people are disgusted by that stuff is because it’s bad for us. It can carry disease.”

The length of the ensuing silence caused him to turn. It was all he could do not to burst into laughter at the comically bewildered expression on Rin’s face.

After a moment, she found her voice. “You know something?”

“What?”

“Apparently not,” she replied with her usual air of resignation.

“Huh?”

“Exactly,” Rin grinned. “As for your question, it’s not a bad one. But you have to remember that I wasn’t always an agent of the gods.”

“You never told me that.”

“Well, that’s no excuse for not remembering it. I feel insulted. We’ve already established that you know things.”

After a moment, Rin elaborated. “I developed human sensibilities before being chosen for this role. Besides, you don’t actually know that I’m immune to disease. Is there something you haven’t been telling me?” She leaned in. “Have you been a naughty boy, Daryl? Do I need to get tested?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, with an expression of distaste. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Rin smiled. “No, you’d just shoot me when I open the door.”

“You used to be human?”

Rin circled him, whispering in one ear then the other. “Maybe. Maybe not. Think that will give you the edge you need to kill me? Want to give it a try?”

Daryl was pondering something and didn’t react. With a sigh, Rin examined the liquor cabinet.

“What does it feel like?” he suddenly wondered aloud.

Rin replied without turning around. “Annoying?”

A noticeable silence followed, and she rounded on him.

“What is it now?” she demanded with a long-suffering air.

“What does it feel like to be shot?”

Rin grinned. “Hand me a gun, and I’ll show you.”

Despite the acerbic reply, Daryl wore an eagerly intent look.

“Fine,” Rin grumbled. “But then you shut up and stop bothering me for the rest of the day.”

He nodded.

With a smile she retrieved a small bowl of marbles from Pavrit’s desk.

“It’s like a muted tap,” she explained, lightly tossing one of the marbles at his face. Daryl winced as it bounced off his forehead, but made no move to block it.

Rin traipsed over and stood on her toes, holding the bowl above him.

She upended it. “Machine gun fire feels like this.”

The marbles dribbled over Daryl’s head, scattering across the floor, and Rin put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, how careless of me. I hope you don’t slip on those.”

Daryl had a stoic look of irritation but said nothing.

“I can’t speak for others, but in my case there is an exponential dampening. I experience simple things like anyone else. However, the intensity of sensation is limited. It cannot become overwhelming or painful.”

“Again, a bullet feels like a ping.” She poked Daryl lightly with her finger. “A tank round would feel stronger.” A heavier poke illustrated this. “And a bomb …”

Before he could react, Rin’s fist hurtled toward Daryl’s face, abruptly stopping short. She mildly cuffed him on the cheek instead.

“After that, there isn’t much difference. The sum of all sensations asymptotically approaches a constant but tolerable level. To put it simply, I know it would have hurt but it doesn’t.”

“I see,” Daryl considered. “I guess that makes sense since there can’t be any damage.”

“However, I am not immune to all discomfort,” Rin clarified.

Daryl’s curiosity was piqued.

“This conversation, for example.”

A moment later, Rin exploded into laughter at Daryl’s abortive attempt to roll his eyes.

“That was …,” It was hard to speak through the laughter. “Special.” She caught her breath. “So you are learning something, just not very well. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see many more examples of how to do it right.”

Wishing to change the subject, Daryl scrutinized the room with an air of concern. He gestured at the mess on the floor. “Should we clean that up?”

Rin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, make sure you dust down the whole place for prints and grab any security videos. He seems like the sort of douchebag who would have a home surveillance system.”

Daryl was about to jump into action, when she laughed. “Since you want to play the janitor, be sure to scrub down my toilets too when you’re done.”

He seemed unsure what to do, and Rin rolled her eyes. “This isn’t some spy movie, moron. Let somebody else clean that crap up.”

Daryl grew cross and pointed at the body bag.

“Oh, you want my help carrying it, eh?”

Swill or no, Rin popped open a second bottle of Port from the dresser and took a swig. “That depends what you plan to do with it. Water or Fire?”

Daryl thought for a moment. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Rin pursed her lips and shook her head. “Oh no you don’t. I promised this would be your gig, and your gig it is. No copping out. Pick.”

“Fine, we’ll dump him in the ocean.”

“That’s your choice?” she asked.

Daryl was slightly hesitant. “Yes.”

Rin brought her face close to Daryl’s. “This is your choice, right? Because I don’t want it to be my choice.”

“Yes.” This time, there was a hint of impatience.

“It sure feels like you’re just doing what I say. I don’t want to be responsible if it’s the wrong choice.”

“It’s my own damned choice! Now just help me pick up the body.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rin smashed the port bottle over her own head.

“Why’d you do that?” Daryl gasped.

Rin looked confused. “If I’d smashed it over your head, you’d be bleeding.”

“Why do it at all?”

“We’ve popped your cherry,” Rin gushed. Daryl just stared at her.

“Ship inauguration?” He still said nothing.

“Fuck you. I’m just in a good mood when we nail one.”

Seeing the conflict on Daryl’s face, Rin wrapped herself around him. “You want to kiss me.”

Daryl slowly nodded, but made no move to do so. Instead he extracted himself from her embrace and began to lift the top half of the bag. “It would be disrespectful to the deceased,” he replied.

Rin grabbed the other half. “Suit yourself. But you’re missing out. I’m in a really good mood.”