A Savage Inconvenience

Chapter 3 - Regret

Part 1

She could tell that his gratitude was uniquely genuine and it was surprising to some extent. She gave him a small nod of acceptance, but she offered no words in return. Stealth mode. She could also tell that he was no longer angry.

Some color had returned to his skin, no doubt from the fresh blood that coursed through him. Well, as much color as could be expected. The swirled area around his neck was no longer the same color as the rest of his skin, but now had a slightly pinkish color to it. She had marveled at his swirls in great detail after clumsily trying her trade at being a surgeon. She was glad she hadn't gone down a career path of the medical profession now.

She was also glad she'd covered up the holes with gauze and tape; she'd made a bit of a mess out of him. She swore to herself that she had gotten better after the 3rd bullet retrieval, but she knew it wasn't true.

The swirls, they reminded her of what she used to doodle when she was bored in class, or in waiting rooms, or at home ... well, just bored in general then. They were also one of the differences between him and the other mindless ones, but it was a commonality that he shared with the one, and that had brought her much unease. She had considered not continuing at the presence of that first revelation. "The enemy of my enemy, I suppose," and she had successfully coaxed herself to continue.

In hindsight, she was glad she had. Staring at the Pale Man now, oops, at Quintus ... erm, QUINLAN; he was nothing like the one at all, right? Right?? Her other self had gone painfully quiet all of the sudden.

He sat, fully vertical in his posture. He almost looked like a statue, with his marblesque skin and stillness. The uncomfortable silence began and continued as his gaze was unflinching with hers. She knew exactly what was happening in his mind, as she was doing the same thing. He was sizing her up.

She knew he was stronger, even now. She knew that he was faster. He was much bigger. The only advantages that she now possessed was the gun, pointed squarely at his head, and his obvious underestimation of her. Everyone always underestimated her at first.

Her size, while being a great disadvantage in continued combat, was a blessing on first strike. Everyone that she had ever fought, in life or in class, always under estimated her at first strike. She always had one, single shot at a crippling blow. Always.

Mr. Parker had trained her a little different than everyone else, even from the beginning, when she was even smaller than she stood now. Martial arts was mostly about repetition, respect, honor, yada yada ... but he would always quietly pull her aside and whisper the same mantra: "Alright, little one. Let's try it another way."

Yes, he had taught her the same technique as the others, but then he would teach her something else, something more sinister, to accompany it. He had used the words "dirty fighting" from time to time, but then he would assure her, if she was really going to stand a chance against a greater adversary, she would need to think outside of the box.

"If you are ever in a fight against someone this much bigger than you, little one" and he would merrily pat himself on his bulging sensei stomach, "then chances are, you are fighting for your life, and not for honor." The men in the class, they were taught how to fight, using structure and discipline. She had been taught how to win in a fight. In the other styles that she eventually tried out, she came to learn that what he'd taught her was mostly akin to Krav Maga. And because of that, she had liked taking Krav Maga. Too bad the teacher was shit. That wasn't a fair assessment though, because everyone other than Mr. Parker was utter shit.