A knock at the door. No answer. Another knock, and still no answer.

The dorm was quiet enough to hear movement on the other side. Desiree saw shadows moving under the doorframe. Someone was home. She wiped the tear smudges under her eyes and knocked again.

Zane cracked the door open with about as much tenderness and subtlety as could be expected from him, but became utterly quiet when Desiree’s gushy face looking up at him. It was hard to tell since the hall light was out, but he looked dirty. The dirt might have been a worrying shade of red, but far too much weighed on Desiree’s mind for her to notice.

“You… I want to say… Desiree?” Zane guessed. She nodded. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know,” she wearily replied. “Things were said that can’t be taken back–”

“No, I mean this is a boy’s dorm. Past curfew. There are a lot of reasons you’re not supposed to be here.”

Desiree sniffled. “I’ve found I can do most whatever I feel like and no one will say anything.”

“Finally wake up, did we?” Zane said understandingly. “It’s nice being conscious. So, what do you want? Can you make it quick? Now’s not the best time.”

“I’m here to… I came because…” She was having more difficulty with this than she imagined. “I’d like to… apologize.”

Zane leaned in, brows raised. “Seriously?”

“I called you a liar quite ruthlessly and inappropriately and I couldn’t let that stand,” voice warbling on the brink of tears. “And I just… I saw a lot today and… I don’t have anyone else I can go to.”

“Okay, well, apology accepted,” he shrugged, unsure of what else could be said to settle her down. Though he didn’t step out of the doorway or open the door any further.

“Just like that?” she asked, disbelieving someone could dismiss something that weighed so heavily on her. “But, what I said… and what I did!”

“I don’t think you’re capable of anything that would really piss me off,” he assured, unimpressed. “And if I’m being completely honest, I almost forgot your name.”

“Oh. I see,” she struggled to understand how to take that tidbit. “Then, can I come in? A lot happened this evening and I need someone to talk to.”

Zane held the door where it was. “I’d love to, really, you have no idea how much I would, but now is not a good time.”

“I don’t… understand.”

“It’s better that way.” He took her hand and scribbled his phone number on her palm. “Look, sleep on it some, then call me tomorrow and we’ll have a nice, long chat about it. Mkay? Mkay. Bye-bye.”

Zane almost felt bad closing the door on that sweet, innocent girl. She was so confused, so anxious, probably the most vulnerable she’d been in her life, and no shoulder for her to cry on. Zane knew he was an asshole, but this was one of the rare situations where he really felt it. But he had more important things to worry about and attending to them would push that guilt right out of his mind.

He had the peddler hanging by his feet from a ceiling beam, still unconscious, with some towels swiped from the gym laid out on the floor and various “tools” scattered around the room.

“Do we really need all this stuff?” Nelson skeptically asked as he unloaded a box taken from the biology lab on the bed.

“You asked for my help, now let me do my thing,” Zane replied, rubbing his hands together.

“Right, right, this just feels wrong.”

“Strictly speaking, it is,” Zane casually replied as he went through some equipment intended for car maintenance. “Abduction, unlawful detention, threat of physical harm, hell, torture is against the Geneva convention. Sure, we have self-defense on our side, but everything that happened after those wannabe thugs ran off is not on the level. So, you better keep your mouth shut about all this, or else–”

“Yeah, I get it!” Nelson interrupted, terrified of what the second half of that sentence could have entailed. “Let’s just get this over with!”

Zane crouched to look the peddler in the face and slapped him around a bit. “God, he is out. I didn’t think I hit him that hard.” He stood up. “Toss me a drink.”

Nelson grabbed a soda from a bucket of ice at the foot of his bed and threw it to Zane. He took a drink, then poured some of his frosty beverage over the peddler’s crotch.

The strung up prisoner twitched at first, then when the soda ran down his face he groaned and began shrieking from the chill. It took him a moment to come to terms with his position, understandably disoriented. When he realized he shared the room with Zane, he screamed.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Zane cheerfully greeted.

“Help!” the peddler shouted. “Someone, Help me! For fuck’s sake, is anyone there? Please, someone!”

“Are you done?” Zane blandly asked once the peddler ran out of breath.

“You must have some god damned titanium balls to pull something like this!” the peddler sneered. “When I get out of here, I’m going to put you through every bit of payback I know. Help! This guy’s crazy! Someone, please!” He stopped to catch his breath, a little put off by his captors’ lack of response or any attempt to shut him up. “Someone will hear eventually.”

“No one’s going to do a damn thing,” Zane retorted. “Do you have any idea what our neighbors have to put up with because of all the insane bullshit going on in this school? So cry your little heart out. No one’s coming for you. Or, you can tell me everything I want to know and we can let you go without a tear shed or blood splattered.” He stood tall, hands on his hips and grinned satisfactorily. “God damn, it feels good to be on this side of the rope for once.”

“Uh, Zane?” Nelson nervously called when he realized they’d have to let him go at some point. “Is this a good idea? What if he tells on us?”

“Who’ll he go to? The disciplinary committee?” He pushed the peddler with his foot and got him swinging.

“I have friends!” the peddler shouted.

Zane grabbed his head and held him steady. “How many?”

“Like I’d tell you,” he spat.

“Let me rephrase the question. How many dead men will there be if your little outfit comes looking for us?”

“Piss off!”

“Alright, then.” Zane stepped back. “Nelson, let me teach you a bit about the human body. Normally, you don’t want hang up the guy upside down like this or tie him up real tight like we’ve got him because that cuts off circulation and makes all the blood rush to his head, dulling the pain and making it easier for him to pass out. It’s alright if you’re just trying to scare him, but if you want answers, you should tie him to a chair, bury him in wet concrete, or something really inconvenient. But, sometimes you just have to hang up a motherfucker like a pinata and see where the night goes from there.”

“You’ll be expelled if you leave any marks!” the peddler shakily warned.

“Bitch, do I look like someone who cares about consequences?” He hit the peddler in the ear, leaving his head ringing. “Nelson, I think I’m going to let you pick what we do first, since he stepped up to you. We don’t want to mess up the room too much, so nothing sharp or wet.” He spoke into the peddler’s ringing ear. “Lucky you, you won’t be waterboarded.”

Nelson gulped. “I don’t know, Zane. This just keeps getting worse and worse.”

“This was your idea, Nelson. Did you think he’d talk if we asked politely?”

“Yeah, Nelson,” the peddler added. “I’ve got some pride about me.”

Zane shoved a rag in the peddler’s mouth.

That was a lot of pressure for a squirrely little guy like Nelson. Sure, this was partially his idea, but he didn’t have a clue it would come this far, or how much farther it would have to go. He really didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even someone as sleazy as this guy, but if it meant he could help his friends, he’d grit his teeth and power through. He searched for the tool that looked least intimidating.

“How about we use these nutcrackers?” he nervously suggested, holding up the implements. The peddler didn’t seem to share his impression of their innocence.

“Those are pliers,” Zane informed, “And there is so much we can do with those.” He grabbed the tool and put his arm over Nelson’s shoulder. “Normally, you’d use those bad boys to hold down a squirmy piece of whatever it is your working on. You know, hold out the tongue, pull out the teeth, stuff like that. You can also pry off fingernails if you feel like it, but there are better tools for that.”

Those suggestions alone made Nelson’s skin crawl, but Zane went on.

“We’re gonna go fast and easy and crush some of his digits. Simple, painful, won’t get better any time soon, and it isn’t messy. He’s probably lost all sensation in his feet by now, so we’ll start with his fingers.” He addressed the peddler. “I don’t really hate you that much, so we won’t start with your jacking off hand.”

The peddler winced.

Zane pulled Nelson down to where the peddler’s hands dangled. “One of the benefits of hanging him upside down: the rush of blood makes him lethargic and limp, meaning it’s harder for him to fight back.” The peddler struggled, but Zane stepped on the binding around his wrists, pinning his hands to the floor. He deftly twirled the pliers around in his hand. “You know, there aren’t any muscles in the fingers. It’s all tendons. The strength for your grip is all in the wrists. It doesn’t really have anything to do with the pain you’re about to feel. I just think it’s cool.”

“Zane, I’m having second thoughts!” Nelson urgently whimpered.

“You’ll get over it.”

Zane fitted the peddler’s left pinky into the pliers, then without warning, expressed his grip strength. There was a sickly crunching sound you wouldn’t expect soft flesh make, but it was largely drowned out by the peddler’s rag dislodging wail.

“What the fuck?” he shouted. “You’re insane! You’re all insane! Fuck, it’s turning black! If my finger falls off, you’re dead, you hear me?”

“If you think this is bad, you should see what my first choice would have been,” Zane jauntily replied. He tossed Nelson the pliers. “You’re up, Casanova.”

Nelson fumbled with pliers, then dropped them. “I-I-I can’t do this,” he said, trembling with shock. “Let’s stop. We shouldn’t go any farther. We’re in enough trouble as it is.”

Zane half sighed, half growled and pulled Nelson into the corner and addressed him in a worryingly cordial and pointed tone. “Buddy, you’re my friend and I want to help you, but you’re being a little bitch right now and it’s really bringing the mood down. I shouldn’t have to remind you, but there are places I’d rather be and things I’d rather be doing than un-fucking your life for you.”

Behind their backs, the peddler stopped nursing his bruised finger and slowly reached up to his pockets.

“If you want me keep helping you, you’re going to have to grow a fucking dick for once in your goddamn life and pull some weight.” He placed the pliers in Nelson’s hands. “Why are you doing this?”

Nelson looked blankly at Zane. “What do you mean–”

“WHY are you doing this?” he demanded.

“Uh, to help my friends!” he fretfully answered.

“Will you be able to help them if you pussy out now?”

“No!”

“How far are you willing to go for them?”

“As far as I have to!”

“Even if it means hurting someone?”

Nelson faltered for a moment, then he thought of his friends, their futures, all the club meetings they’d never have, the end of everything he treasured at this school if his weak constitution got the best of him when it mattered most.

“Yes,” he steadfastly replied.

“Then get your ass in gear and ruin that guy’s day–” Zane whipped around when he heard a chime. He saw the peddler working with his phone, finally managing to unlock it upside down with his hands tied, but forgetting to mute the thing. “Motherfucker!” Zane darted over and slapped the phone out of his hand, then backhanded the guy for good measure, putting him into a heavy spin. “You didn’t check his pockets?” he furiously demanded.

“You didn’t tell me to!” Nelson indignantly cried.

“I shouldn’t have to! Grab his phone! Make sure it doesn’t lock up.” Zane stopped the peddler spinning right on time for him to throw up, affirming the preparation of laying down towels beforehand. Zane then patted him down, relieving him of whatever remained in his pockets.

He turned up a key, a bottle opener, some loose change, and a wallet. Zane took the latter of them and reclined on his bed as he went through it.

Nelson had his reservations about going through other people’s things, but this was something he could easily justify and found far preferable to the bodily harm it interrupted. He scrolled through the phone, not really sure what he was looking for… until he stumbled over the peddler’s message history. They were mainly requests for pictures of particular girls and the variety of undress they wanted. It made Nelson sick. He might have recognized some of the names. People that would suffer the way his friends had if this guy was set loose.

He suddenly realized what Zane was going through and asked, “Hey Zane? Uh… how much money does he have?”

“Hey,” the peddler lethargically called. “I know how much is in there! Nothing had better be missing when I get down from here!”

“Shut up before I come over there,” Zane replied.

“Should I crush his fingers now?” Nelson asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

While Nelson struggled to get a hold of the peddler, Zane leafed through the contents of his wallet. Dumping it out turned up a couple bucks, his student ID, bus pass, and a cafeteria voucher, but a more meticulous search of the folds found a picture of an unremarkable girl undressing in front of her locker. She wasn’t particularly cute and her body was modest at best, but finding that picture put malicious grin on Zane’s face. “Ooh, she’s pretty. What’s her name?”

The peddler managed to knock Nelson away, then his eyes went wide when he saw Zane found the picture, then he quickly looked away. “I don’t know. It’s just a picture.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything special about her?” Zane suggestively asked, waving the picture around as he strolled across the room. “She’s cute, but compared to the pics you unloaded on poor Nelson here, she’s kind of fugly.”

“Hey!” he defensively snapped. “I don’t go judging you and your spank bank, don’t give me shit about mine!”

That response was exactly what Zane was looking for. “Spank bank? Don’t make me laugh. You’re crushing on this girl.”

“Wha– you can’t be– what?” he unconvincingly refuted. “Give me a break.”

Nelson gasped. “It is a picture of the girl he likes!”

Zane’s grin vanished and he groaned. “Yes, Nelson, I just said that!”

“So what if she is?” the peddler barked.

“We can tell her that you have a picture of her!” Nelson weakly threatened.

“Go ahead,” he challenged. “We’ve never talked. She doesn’t even know I exist.”

“She’ll find out you sell these kinds of pictures,” he added, insecure over the peddler’s confidence. “She’ll know you’re the worst kind of scum.”

“I sincerely could not care less if she finds out. She’s out of my league anyways, and I can get all the pictures I want. So tell her! I’ll lose nothing!”

“She’s not out of my league,” Zane suggested.

“You think I care? I never had a shot with her in the first place.”

“You never had a shot because you’re a worthless sack of shit. But what if a worthless sack of shit had a regular alpha male as his wingman?”

The peddler stared at. “You don’t have enough game.”

“Motherfucker, I have more game than the sports channel! Either you can tell us everything we want to know and I set you up with your high school crush, or I continue teaching Nelson how to disassemble a guy and we find out anyway! You’re choice!”

The peddler couldn’t stare down Zane from his position. He glanced around, this time fully comprehending the situation he was in. They had sports equipment, ice, a car battery, jars and beakers full of multi-colored liquids, and that was just what he could make out through the clutter. Imagination alone was enough to send him into fits.

“Fine!” he relented. “I’ll talk! Just, let me down!”

Nelson went to cut the rope, but Zane stopped him. “Talk a bit first. If I like what I hear, then we’ll let you down.”