Belladonna

2.4 ] Your Brain

••●••

"DO YOU HAVE any remorse?"

I squint, "Huh?"

"Remorse. The thing where you feel deep regret or guilt for-"

"I know what remorse is." I roll my eyes.

"I hoped so. You got any?" His eyes are tired, lids hooded. 

Remorse. No. I don't think so at least. I've heard about pitiful stories from many people but the only times I feel even a twinge of empathy is when I put myself in their shoes. 

But you don't tell people that.

"Occasionally." I shrug. 

"Good. Get rid of that." He tells me. 

"Huh?" I say again.

"When you're going up against someone, you need to get rid of any remorse. Most of the time guilt is what holds people in our team back from finishing the job." Reign instructs.

"Alright." I say. I mean, that's already been done but he didn't know that. 

"And pain," He adds, "You need to control your pain tolerance. So that no matter the situation, you focus on your goal."

"Like if I get shot to just keep going?" I suggest.

"...no. Uh, if you get shot you should probably work on getting out of there. I mean more during hand to hand combat. Or maybe a light stab. A little blood." Reign corrects.

"Just to clear up - if I do get shot, there's no chance I could just continue?" I ask. 

"I mean by all means, go ahead." He gestures.

"Alright. Can you teach me to do what you did to Liam now?" I rock back and forth on my feet.

"You don't need to, you've already killed Ian and Callum, I think you're fine." Reign rolls his eyes. Again. 

"Yeah because I had a knife, and then I had a gun. I wanna learn how to do that defensive shit. Where I don't rely on a weapon." I use my hand to gesture to the length of him at defensive shit.

He sighs as if inconvenienced, walking forward and holding my bicep with one hand, nice and tight. 

"Grip," He says sounding bored, "It's better than strength. Not all the time, but if you're fighting someone with equal abilities to you - grip is more important. If you can hold on, they're stuck. You're in charge."

He then twists my arm slowly, turning me to the side. 

"You twist here," He says, "Harder than I am right now. While you're doing it, try to push down simultaneously. This will temporarily incapacitate their arm."

"And if I want to break it?" I breathe. 

"Then by all means," He whispers, "Go ahead."

Then he lets go, stepping to the side gesturing for me to show my hands. I do, complying, and he grabs the both of them - lifting them up in front of us by the wrists.

"People think they've won if they've subdued your arms," He tells me, "Which is almost correct. The moment someone grabs your arms with force, what's your first instinct?"

"To kick them." I answer.

"To kick them," He nods, "Good."

He then tightens his grip on my wrists, "Kick me."

I twitch, tilting my head.

"Go on," His voice is quiet but commanding, "Kick me."

So I do. I lift my leg and kick it out, but he's stopped me. With his own leg, he blocks my move, and then uses his grip on my wrists to turn me around quickly and bring me to my knees.

"Anticipation," He says, "Always anticipate the legs before focusing on the hands."

"Okay," I breathe a little uncomfortably, "You can let me go now."

He waits a beat too long before releasing me and stepping backwards. Reign doesn't smile. Or smirk or grin. Not from what I've seen. But whatever expression this is? It's definitely smug. 

"There. Lesson over." He says, turning and getting ready to leave the training room. 

"Wait!" I stop him, running at the speed of light and interrupting his hand from grasping the door knob. "That's barely anything. I want more training. You said you'd teach me to be a monster - just like you."

"Okay I'm not actually a monster, that's getting a little old-"

"You are." I hum, holding my hands behind my back.

He exhales, obviously trying to hold back some anger. I'm surprised he even tries to hold it back. Usually he takes a sinister sort of pride in his lack of a filter. 

"We can make a deal," I say, "One where you get something in return. I'll do whatever you need. No questions asked."

He scoffs, "So if I asked you to kill a guy?"

"Easy." My heart picks up in anticipation. 

"I was joking." He raises a brow.

I laugh, "I know."

He thinks for a moment - taking his sweet time - shifting his weight between his legs as he takes his time to genuinely think. 

"I train you in combat," He finally declares, "You teach me how to do what you do."

"What I do?" I repeat. Does he mean contain my bloodlust all the time? To not feel any remorse and only a cold, isolating starvation? I could go on. 

"How your brain works," He clarifies, "In the moment. Not in advance. Like how you dealt with Callum. And how you dealt with Ian."

"Oh?"

"But if you're going to have to dose your annoyingness. If it becomes too much I'm ditching you." He adds.

"Okay," I nod, "Got it."

"And no lying to me." He points a finger. "If you think something, say it. I like...your brain is interesting."

"Okay." I nod again.

"Okay." He nod, agreeing. 

Why does this feel like a deal with the devil?

••●••

*Sighs* The one thing Mareign have in common:

- Juana.