The Brother Zsadist

So, I've decided to do a piece on each brother... and seeing as Zsadist is my FAVORITE brother I'll start with him.

This is a kind of "interview" that the author did with the Brother.

Zsadist


I wait for Zsadist in the lobby. You’ll learn the details of the space soon enough so I’ll keep them to myself, but suffice to say, there’s plenty to look at. Within minutes, Butch and V come over from the Pit, emerging from the hidden door under the staircase. We chat and then they go into the billiard room. As I hear the sound of pool balls cracking into each other, I check my watch. Z is late. By twenty minutes. Somehow I’m not surprised. And I won’t be surprised if he blows off the whole thing, either.


As I think about him, I picture his face and the scar that intersects it. I see his glossy all-black eyes. His skull trimmed hair. His pierced nipples. The tattooed blood slave bands around his throat and wrists... I can almost feel the anger and the erotic threat he throws off... God, it’s as if he’s known hell on earth and carries the place around with him.


And, you know, I must confess. Of all of the brotherhood, he was the one I loved first and he remains the one I love the most. For me, he is just the... one.


Zsadist: Don’t turn around.


I jump and then freeze. His voice is right behind me, in my left ear. Immediately, I feel a cold chill on my back, as if I’m standing in front of a refrigerator’s open door. It’s his body, close to mine. And even though I love him, I’m suddenly very grateful to know that Butch and V in the other room.


Z: I’m not into this interview shit.


J.R.: Okay. That’s... okay.


Z: And I’m pissed off that you think you need an armed escort to talk to me.


J.R.: Butch and V are just-


Z.: Save it. They’re here to make you feel safer. (There’s a pause.) You’ve got five minutes to ask the questions. So make it quick.


J.R.: Ah... what do you think about Wrath’s ascension? (I figure this is a safe enough subject. And it’s the first thing that pops into my head.)


Z.: It’s about time he got off his ass.


J.R.: Do you think he’ll be a good king?


Z.: Yeah. He does everything well.


J.R.: And Beth, as queen? Does it bother you she’s half-human?


Z.: She’s Darius’s daughter. She should be queen on that alone.


J.R.: Were you... upset when Darius died?


Z: He was murdered. You make it sound like he keeled over of natural causes, putting it like that.


J.R.: And were you upset?


Z.: Next question.


J.R.: Ah... (This is so not going well.) What do you think about the brotherhood living here together?


Z.: I don’t care where I sleep.


J.R.: Do you have any problem with Tohr taking over?


Z.: You know I don’t. You wrote down what my response was in Wrath’s book.


J.R.: Right. Yes. (At this point, my mind goes totally blank. His responses are getting more and more brusque. I can tell he wants to end the interview... like two minutes ago.) Is there anything you want to say?


The silence is so deep and so long that I figure he’s left. I start to look over my shoulder.


Z: I told you not to turn around.


J.R.: I’m sorry.


Z: Have you spoken with Phury?


J.R.: Ah, no. Not yet.

Z: Then the only thing I’ve got to say is this. When you talk to my twin, you treat him with respect. He’s... a fine male who’s living a whacked life. Because of me. (There’s a pause.) And you didn’t need the protection. I’d never harm you. Later.

This time, when I finally turn around, he is gone. And I realize I’m disappointed I couldn’t look at him. He isn’t ugly. At least not to me.