trick.
Considering he lay in a pool of his own blood and excrement, in his own home, outsmarted and half crippled by a fighter who had now quite obviously been restraining himself, Sean could safely attest to never having been as scared in his life.
“Why?” the broken convict asked. Shivering, an expression of resignation fell over his choking features.
“Now he asks me! It’s actually just as you said; it all comes down to reputation.
Specifically yours.
You did something as simple, as trivial as slipping a scalpel into Cracker’s eye-socket and you became an instant legend. Your rates quadrupled. You jumped to the number one slot on every most wanted list. As I understand it, cadets are still told horror stories about the man who finally took down one of The Siblings.
As you said, you ’re kind of a big deal Sean. You weren’t lying.
So, w hy batter the notorious Lancet? Why cripple one of the planet’s most feared individuals in his own home? Why step on his neck and chuckle while he writhes and messes himself?!
Take a sodding guess, Sean!
I don’t need you to run to your friends, tail between your legs and tell everyone how scary and handsome I am. You know cameras these days; always someone watching.
It’s out. You have been beaten. And I’m letting you walk away... figuratively.
Test me and next time I will turn you into a dead person. And that’s me at my most literal, Sean.
But for now at least, and until I arbitrarily decide otherwise... congratulations, you’re off the hook.”
Message delivered, hostilities ceased, Rook removed his foot from the windpipe. Air filled hungry lungs. As Sean clawed for oxygen, eventually rolling onto his front, Rook strolled deeper into the only room that had escaped complete annihilation.
He swiped a few tissues from a box on the mantelpiece and sauntered back to his suffering mark. Rook crouched, handing the tissues to his former associate.
“ Clean yourself up, man. You’re a mess.” He chided as Sean dabbed the dark fluid staining his cracked lips and swollen chin. Visibly shaken, supported on a propping elbow, Lancet gestured to the younger man, flapping soiled tissue as he did so,
“No arguments here. But f or the record, I’d like to remind you that the overwhelming majority of that, is actually yours!”
Rook tilted his head and considered for a moment the deep stab wound in his side, the swelling at his recently relocated elbow joint, the gash across his thigh and the assortment of minor, closed lacerations about his face.
“ You’re absolutely right.” Rook concurred.
And remembering the warning Molly had issued, he threw a friendly thump into Sean’s prone shoulder, adding,
“I’m just going to jump in the shower.”
Incredulous, Sean’s jaw swung open.
*
Torcher typically left performance reviews until breakfast, when the mind was fresh. Her lieutenants’ reports were typically thorough enough to hold ‘til the morning. Additionally, they both had the sense (and stones) to wake her should the sky start falling.
But for a firsthand account of how her consultant, her tactician kindled the first real embers of her society’s infamy; she was willing to let her bed wait her a few hours more.
The S martglass of her desk tolled 2:07am precisely as she edged forward in her chair. Fingertips meeting in an arch, she asked,
“So you left him flapping there , in his own living room, while you helped yourself to the poor bugger’s shower?!”
“ Yes.”
“That is harsh.”
“ Molly was very clear about the terms of my return flight” Rook explained, still wet, plunging his ear with an index finger. The Boss hooked a knowing eyebrow,
“That girl has you wrapped around her finger.”
“There’s a dirty joke in there... Somewhere...”
Torcher raised a hand, openly revolted at the suggestion,
“Spare me.
So, you reckon he’s scared straight?”
Rook reclined, folding his arms. He recalled the casual wave he sent
Considering he lay in a pool of his own blood and excrement, in his own home, outsmarted and half crippled by a fighter who had now quite obviously been restraining himself, Sean could safely attest to never having been as scared in his life.
“Why?” the broken convict asked. Shivering, an expression of resignation fell over his choking features.
“Now he asks me! It’s actually just as you said; it all comes down to reputation.
Specifically yours.
You did something as simple, as trivial as slipping a scalpel into Cracker’s eye-socket and you became an instant legend. Your rates quadrupled. You jumped to the number one slot on every most wanted list. As I understand it, cadets are still told horror stories about the man who finally took down one of The Siblings.
As you said, you ’re kind of a big deal Sean. You weren’t lying.
So, w hy batter the notorious Lancet? Why cripple one of the planet’s most feared individuals in his own home? Why step on his neck and chuckle while he writhes and messes himself?!
Take a sodding guess, Sean!
I don’t need you to run to your friends, tail between your legs and tell everyone how scary and handsome I am. You know cameras these days; always someone watching.
It’s out. You have been beaten. And I’m letting you walk away... figuratively.
Test me and next time I will turn you into a dead person. And that’s me at my most literal, Sean.
But for now at least, and until I arbitrarily decide otherwise... congratulations, you’re off the hook.”
Message delivered, hostilities ceased, Rook removed his foot from the windpipe. Air filled hungry lungs. As Sean clawed for oxygen, eventually rolling onto his front, Rook strolled deeper into the only room that had escaped complete annihilation.
He swiped a few tissues from a box on the mantelpiece and sauntered back to his suffering mark. Rook crouched, handing the tissues to his former associate.
“ Clean yourself up, man. You’re a mess.” He chided as Sean dabbed the dark fluid staining his cracked lips and swollen chin. Visibly shaken, supported on a propping elbow, Lancet gestured to the younger man, flapping soiled tissue as he did so,
“No arguments here. But f or the record, I’d like to remind you that the overwhelming majority of that, is actually yours!”
Rook tilted his head and considered for a moment the deep stab wound in his side, the swelling at his recently relocated elbow joint, the gash across his thigh and the assortment of minor, closed lacerations about his face.
“ You’re absolutely right.” Rook concurred.
And remembering the warning Molly had issued, he threw a friendly thump into Sean’s prone shoulder, adding,
“I’m just going to jump in the shower.”
Incredulous, Sean’s jaw swung open.
*
Torcher typically left performance reviews until breakfast, when the mind was fresh. Her lieutenants’ reports were typically thorough enough to hold ‘til the morning. Additionally, they both had the sense (and stones) to wake her should the sky start falling.
But for a firsthand account of how her consultant, her tactician kindled the first real embers of her society’s infamy; she was willing to let her bed wait her a few hours more.
The S martglass of her desk tolled 2:07am precisely as she edged forward in her chair. Fingertips meeting in an arch, she asked,
“So you left him flapping there , in his own living room, while you helped yourself to the poor bugger’s shower?!”
“ Yes.”
“That is harsh.”
“ Molly was very clear about the terms of my return flight” Rook explained, still wet, plunging his ear with an index finger. The Boss hooked a knowing eyebrow,
“That girl has you wrapped around her finger.”
“There’s a dirty joke in there... Somewhere...”
Torcher raised a hand, openly revolted at the suggestion,
“Spare me.
So, you reckon he’s scared straight?”
Rook reclined, folding his arms. He recalled the casual wave he sent
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