“Promise me you won’t bite me again,” he said with a wink. He removed the obstruction and said, “My name is Quintz.”
Kinzer balled his hand into a fist, as ready to go as ever.
“I suggest you not attack me again,” Quintz said, “unless you want Brock here to beat the ever-loving shit out of you. And we have resources here in our little facility that we can use to heal you so that we can beat you all over again. I’m sure you’re still considering an escape right now, but I assure you, there are plenty of guards outside this door, taking care of the exits. And without any weapon or weapons to take from us, you won’t have an easy time, considering it is you, with the strength of an impressive man, versus the strength of immortals. That said, I suggest you at least listen to what I have to say before you do anything ridiculously stupid.”
“I don’t have to know who you are to know that whatever it is you’re gonna ask me, I’m gonna say ‘fuck off.’”
Quintz smiled like something about Kinzer’s reply amused him. He turned like he was about to say something to Brock before whirling back around, his fist in the air. He landed a punch against Kinzer’s temple, and Kinzer fell onto his side.
“Shit.”
“I find violence is the easiest way to communicate with any creature, wouldn’t you agree?” Quintz said. “In fact, it’s my specialty. I’m employed because I understand pain. Of course, we both know how pleasurable pain can be. Most immortals have even found that the true art of excitement and arousal is a dance between pleasure and pain. Understanding that it is the variance between the two that creates genuine satisfaction, I believe. However, there is a degree of pain that is too overwhelming for any creation. It is that sort of pain that I am most familiar with. I would call it a sort of truth serum, an ability to force even the most resistant of immortals into confessing their secrets.”
“You just sound really fucked up to me.”
“I’m surprised you’re not more fucked up than you are. We’ve both been around for a very, very long time. I think it makes you a little deranged, don’t you? Our priorities are kind of skewed.”
“I’d agree with that.”
“Then, see, we actually have a lot in common, don’t we?”
Kinzer recognized his game—trying to get him to let down his guard, make him feel at ease so he could press him for intel. He wanted to stop beating around the bush, for Quintz to tell him who he worked for and what he wanted, but the way Quintz was going on, he figured he would know soon enough.
Brock moved closer, standing at their side like he was ready to snatch Kinzer and beat the shit out of him the moment he did anything that pissed them off. Kinzer eyed the door, trying to think if he could make a break for it. He looked between them. Neither holding weapons, just as Quintz had pointed out. Although Brock had the key he’d unlocked Kinzer’s cuffs with. If he could grab that, he could use it to jam into one of their eyes. He had to be patient and move at the right moment.
“Now, Kinzer, I’m gonna tell you who sent me,” Quintz said. “And I’m gonna tell you what I need from you. And I want you to be patient with me. Hear me out before you make your decision, because it’s an important decision. Does that sound fair? I’m sorry, I didn’t meanfair.Fair doesn’t have much to do with this, does it? Honestly, choice isn’t really going to play much of a part in it either. I’m employed by the Almighty, the supreme being of all realms, all dimensions, all creation—the creator of the heavens as well as the nightmarish Earth.”
“Honestly, I never found Heaven to be all that pleasant for those like me,” Kinzer said.
Quintz, still on his knees beside Kinzer, threw another punch, and as Kinzer prepared to throw his own—out of instinct—Quintz threw another and another. Kinzer rebounded and hurried to his knees before returning the punch, knocking Quintz back, but just as quickly, Brock grabbed him by his hair and slammed Kinzer’s head against the wall behind him.
Kinzer cried out as Brock smashed his head into the concrete blocks again and again until Quintz said, “No, no, Brock. I need him lucid so I can talk to him. He’s not going to be of much use to us if he’s too delirious to think straight.”
Kinzer seized his opportunity. He grabbed Brock’s other hand and pried the key from his grip before he lunged at his attacker and pushed it up into Brock’s eye, driving it deep within. With it jammed into the eye, Kinzer pulled his hand away and then pushed it back forcefully so that the heel of his palm hit the base of the key.
As Brock cried out, he released Kinzer, who dashed back to the wall where he’d been slung up. He squatted down and snatched the cuffed chain Brock had left on the ground in front of the wall Kinzer had been bound to. Spinning around and pushing to his feet, he swatted it at Quintz, who was right behind him. It hit the higherling’s face and forced him to his side. The move gave Kinzer enough time to dash around him, out the door, and down the hall.
There weren’t any guards in the long bare stretch of hallway, making him wonder if the immortal operation he was a part of was much smaller than Quintz had led him to believe.
Kinzer’s dick slapped against either leg as he ran, his balls bouncing about. He heard a sound behind him and glanced over his shoulder to see Quintz, wings stretched out, flying at him. He was a quick fella. Kinzer spun around again, rotating his hand a few times so that the chain wrapped around his wrist. Quintz came at him, and Kinzer threw a punch that forced Quintz to the side, his wing catching against the wall.
“Motherfucker,” Quintz muttered as Kinzer continued sprinting along.
As he rounded the corner at the end of the hall, a higherling came into sight, dove at Kinzer’s legs, and knocked him down onto the concrete floor. Another guard, armed with a sword, approached as the higherling who’d tackled him crawled up Kinzer’s body, wrestling with him as he tried to restrain him. Kinzer got a good punch in, knocking the higherling aside, which gave Kinzer an opportunity to climb the wall beside him, back onto his feet. The oncoming guard struck at Kinzer with his sword, and Kinzer raised his arm, blocking the attack with the chain around his wrist.
As he found his bearings, he noticed that behind this guard, several more raced toward them. Quintz hadn’t been bluffing after all.
He was fucked.
He didn’t know how he was going to fight off these immortals, all more powerful than him, armed and ready for battle. But Kinzer didn’t care if he died that night. What did it matter? He’d lived too long as it was. Survived so much. What did he have to lose if this was the night he died? If they caught him and tortured him…that would be so much worse.
The guard whose sword he’d blocked with his wrist struck at him again, and Kinzer dodged the attack before leaping to his feet and punching the higherling so hard, he knocked him against the wall. The guard dropped his sword, and Kinzer picked it up and whirled around as Quintz hurried toward him. Kinzer raised the sword to hold him back as the other immortal guards surrounded him, their broadswords and daggers ready to go.
“You’re going to have to kill me, you motherfuckers,” Kinzer warned, “because I’m not going down without a fucking fight.”
Kinzer thrashed his sword about, attacking one of the guards. Another jabbed at him, and he wrapped the chain in his opposite hand around it and pulled the sword from the guard’s grasp before knocking the hilt of his sword in another guard’s face.
Quintz used that as his chance to dive at him. He wrapped his arms around Kinzer and tackled him to the floor.
