"You think he'll let you?"
"You think he can stop me?"
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Margeux can't decide whether she's a sociopath, or a psychopath. Continuous events tend to sway her either way. Out of all the people she could kill on her eighteenth birthday, she en...
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••●••
"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.
