[ComicGuy89]

Chapter 6: He Who Dares to Teach

The massive warehouse doors clanged open and revealed John Smith, who strided past them. He paused for a while admiring the view, fixing his gaze, in particular, on the ornate throne in the middle. Adorned with velvet cushions and raised on a platform, its shape was now more refined than the twisted hunk of iron it was before. He thought it representative of the entire hall: what was once a dirty, shabby warehouse had now been repurposed into something much more befitting of the king that he was.

No, it wasn’t nearly grand enough. More work had to be done. But later on.

On the table stood a wine bottle and some glasses. Gesturing with his hands, he telekinetically poured some wine into a glass, and brought it with him to his throne. Stretching himself lazily on it, he said, “Herald, where have you been?”

The Herald, who had been staring into the mirror, turned back to look at him with his usual cold, empty eyes. “What do you mean, master?”

“You know very well what I mean. You have been taking unexplained leaves of absence recently. So, explain yourself.”

The boy’s face remained unchanging. “I wasn’t aware that I was to remain here at all times. I was … scouting, like you were. I merely followed your great example, master.”

John pushed himself up from his throne and raised his hand. An unseen force lifted the Herald up by the collar and dragged him forcibly towards his master. Their eyes met, but like the best poker experts, neither refused to budge.

“Do not take me for a fool, boy,” said John Smith. “Do you mean to insult me, with this pathetic scouting excuse?”

The Herald said nothing and merely continued gazing right into his eyes. Even with hood thrown down, free from the shadows, the white-haired boy’s face was practically unreadable. By now John Smith knew the boy well enough to know that there was clearly nothing more he would divulge, so he released his grip and reclined again into his throne.

“Keep your secrets, Herald. If you are a worthy servant it would do you good to be shrewd.”

“You have my sincerest gratitude, master.” Despite the monotonous voice, the boy’s words were dripping with sarcasm. “If you pardon my intrusion, master, has your trip has been successful?”

John Smith paused for a moment, lightly twirling his wine glass in his hands. “It has,” he said at last, smiling. “It appears my plans will finally move forward. I may have found my next volunteer.”

*

“You really are very bad at keeping secrets, Nadia,” said Rose, laughing. “But I suppose a week or so isn’t too bad, don’t you think?”

Nadia’s jaw refused to close, her mind still struggling to accept all that was happening. Her identity had been found out. There was another Garde. Said Garde was her classmate. Questions reeled in her mind, but with her uncooperative jaw, she had no way to even begin asking them.

Luckily, Mittens managed to croak out, “B-but how? How did you figure it out?”

“That was your fault, Mittens," said that brown dog, Claude. “As a fellow Messenger, and your senior, I am ashamed to say that we discovered Garde Espresso’s identity in the alleyway last week, after one of your battles.”

“That alleyway!” squeaked Mittens. “I knew it! You must understand, I told Nadia to do that perimetre check, I insisted on it! But -”

“No buts, Mittens,” said Claude sternly. “You know the rules. In this regard, a Messenger must insist that his or her Garde obey them, and is to be held responsible for any failure to comply. You know what this means, Mittens.”

Nadia did not know that it was possible for a cat to go as white as Mittens did, heck, he looked like he was about to collapse.

At this, Claude broke out into a warm and affectionate chuckle. “I’m just joking, Mittens. You silly cat, you’re always more of a stickler for the rules than I am. Don't worry, you’ve done a remarkable job in my absence, defending this city and finding our new Garde. I’m very proud of you.”

Apparently it was possible for a cat to turn pink, too.

“Master where have you been?” asked Mittens, hastily changing the subject. “You haven’t been seen in ages.”

Though it was only for a flash, Nadia noticed the old dog's face turn dark. But he was soon smiling again, saying, “That’s a story for another day, my friend. For now, we have important business to conduct.”

“I have been observing your battles, Garde Espresso,” he said, turning his attention to Nadia for the first time. “And I am very impressed. For a beginner you have grasped the basics of combat fairly quickly.”

“Aww shucks, thanks,” said Nadia, beaming. “I’m a pretty fly Garde aren’t I?”

Behind her, Rose groaned and slapped her forehead rather audibly. Nadia tried hard to ignore this.

“Well, it seems Rose here’s a pretty decent fighter herself,” she said, giving her friend a playful nudge. “Who knew you had it in you? You pulled off some real fancy moves with that needle thing back there.”

“This ‘needle thing’ happens to be my sword, Resilience,” said Rose indignantly, though her lips betrayed a slight smile. “Thank you for the compliments, though.”

Nadia gave Rose a thumbs up, before turning back to Claude. “Your name’s Claude, right? You can call me Nadia!”

“That’s master Claude, Nadia!” shrieked Mittens. “How dare you?”

Claude shook his head. “No, no, Claude is fine. I insist you call me Claude too, Mittens, no more ‘master’ business. In fact,” he smirked at Mittens, who was beginning to protest. “I order it, as your 'master'. Now you’ll simply have to obey that.”

Mittens hung his head and clamped his mouth shut.

“I think I will like you, Claude!” said Nadia, amazed. “I’ve never seen anyone shut Mittens up so effectively!”

“Thank you, forgive me, I love pulling Mittens’ buttons, he’s so easy to wind up. And yes, Nadia, I’m sure I will like you too.”

Rose made a cough and arms crossed, walked right up next to Nadia. “Claude, I really think we should get going with this. We need to call Officer Aydin to pick these men up."

In her excitement, Nadia had forgotten about the victims, previously possessed, who were now unconscious on the floor.

"Also, we don’t want to stay here too long, it might make for some difficult questioning,” she added, jerking her head towards the gaping hole that was once the door to the car park they were in.

“Right you are, Rose! Alright, here, take this bag.” He handed them a small leather pouch that was held tightly closed by a rope. “Inside are a number of what look like marbles. Go on, grab them out, and divide them among yourselves. It doesn’t matter which you pick, they’re all the same.”

Anticipation glowing in her eyes, Nadia fumbled the rope of the pouch before finally undoing it and turning it upside down. Seven marbles dropped onto her outstretched hand: six were an identical white and the last one was a bright red.

“Claude, I thought you said they were all identical,” said Rose. “This bright red one certainly looks different.”

“Oh, that wasn’t supposed to be in there!” exclaimed Claude. He swiped the red marble from Nadia’s hand and stuffed it into his own messenger bag.

“I guess this would be one of those ‘another story for another time’ moments?” said Nadia, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” said Claude, grim. “Please do not concern yourselves with this one. Now, divide those you do have among yourselves.”

Nadia did as she was told. “What do they do?”

“Well you see, you already know that the Nihil feed on despair. That means the logical way to counter them is through hope. These may appear to be simple marbles now, but when a Garde exhibits enough hope, they will transform into aids to help you in battle.”

“But where do they come from?” asked Rose, examining one of her own. “And what sorts of aids?”

“Nobody knows, I’m afraid,” said Claude. “It was handed down by our ancestors, and the Gardes have used it from their very first battles. As for what they actually do to help, they will bestow you with some sort of power. Exactly what, we won’t know until it actually activates.”

Excited now, Nadia took one of her marbles and began squeezing them between her thumb and her index finger. “What do we have to do, force the power out? Break them?”

“Goodness, no,” said Claude, chuckling. “Like I said, you need to have had displayed a degree of hope. I don’t think they’ll activate quite so soon, since -”

Nadia was wondering why he had suddenly stopped talking when she felt it: the warmth in her hand as one of the marbles glowed an intense white. It felt remarkably similar to the red orb that gave her her Garde powers that very first time, except with less intensity. When the glow subsided, it revealed, solid and heavy, a strangely familiar device.

“A tamper!” exclaimed Nadia, holding up the metallic object. “Just like the ones used at cafes to press the ground coffee beans into a portafilter! Oh Rose, look, look!”

She turned to Rose excitedly but saw that her friend’s head was bowed, her face shadowed by her long auburn hair.

“Rose …?”

Rose quickly looked up and grinned, her shadow gone. “What? Oh, yes, congratulations Nadia! I’m happy for you.”

Nadia eyed her friend suspiciously, but then thought no more of it.

Claude, on the other hand, was astonished. “Unimaginable! How … how did you -”

“Never mind that Claude!” said Nadia. “Look, like Rose said, we need to get out of here. I’ll give Aydin a call to pick these guys up, so let’s continue this over a cup of coffee.”

“But I don’t drink coffee -” said Claude.

“Never know until you try,” said Nadia. “Come on!”

She grasped him by the paw and dragged him out the doorway.

“She’s never going to change, is she?” asked Rose, exasperated.

“Nope,” said Mittens. “And she didn’t call Aydin, did she?”

Rose sighed. “I’ll get it.”

*

“Mind if I sit here again?”

Nadia looked up, smiled at the dark-haired boy and nodded. “Hey Anthony. Why not? You’re our group member, we’re practically pals now!”

Anthony returned the smile and grabbed his notebook out from his backpack before setting himself down slowly in the seat next to Rose’s. “Good morning to both of you. Have you guys finished your bits yet?”

“The assignment bits?” said Rose. “Oh yeah, done and dusted. We can move on to the next stage, that is, if Nadia has finished hers already.”

Nadia suddenly became very aware of the dirt in her fingernails. “Uh, sure I guess I have finished … umm … we’re just supposed to come up with an idea for the project thingamajig right?”

Feeling hot under the collar, she refused to look in Rose’s direction, as she was sure Rose was flaring up her nostrils. And sure enough, her voice was frightening when she spoke, “Dear Nadia, this ‘thingamajig’ is worth 60% of our grade. And ‘come up with the idea’, are you serious? We decided to do a social experiment last week! Remember?”

The fingernails were starting to look awfully interesting. “I think I have it … at home, you know. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“Nadia, do you even know what we’re supposed to do?” asked Rose, raising an eyebrow.

Just then, the characteristic door slam announced the arrival of Matthew George. Nadia breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at Rose, who was now shooting sparks out of her eyes.

“Look Rose, just fill me in later, okay? I promise I’ll get it done. I really proooomiiiiiiiise ...”

Like he often was, Mr George was late and stumbling over his books and notes, rushing to make up for lost time. “Hey class, how’re you all doing? I apologise for being late, but I have a perfect excuse! I realised I forgot my good luck charm and doubled back to get it. The streets aren’t safe these days with all these monsters, am I right?”

He gave a hearty wink to the class. A few students yawned. Rose’s face was a pained mixture of humour and embarrassment, while Anthony’s was buried in his arms.

“Anyway, class, enough jokes,” said Mr George. “I trust you all are doing well in your assignment? Should be a piece of pie, right? Anybody have any questions?”

A hand shot up, but Mr George seemed very intent on looking the other way. “No one?” he asked. “Alright, I guess we can continue on with the class -”

“Please sir, I have some concerns about this assignment,” said the student who raised her hand.

Realising that there was no escape from it now, Mr George reluctantly addressed the student, “Yes, miss, what’s your name?”

“Karen Palmer, sir,” said the student. “My group and I are having trouble understanding your assignment. We’re not sure what is expected of us.”

“Really? Well part of the assessment is to see your creativity of interpretation. You got your instructions. All you need to do is design a social experiment to test a facet of communication. It’s up to you from there, but I’m sure someone of your caliber will be able to figure it out, Ms Palmer.”

“But that’s the thing, sir. From the instructions, it seems we have freedom to do what we want, but the grading rubric tells us it expects some things to be in the assignment, things that we need to earn marks for our grade. Without them we might not pass. And it doesn’t tell us what it wants.”

“Oh, come on Ms Palmer, as a student of communications you should know that a lot of things are left to your judgment,” said Mr George, grinning forcefully from ear to ear. “That’s part and parcel of being a professional! In the working environment you must decide things, there won’t be a rubric to guide you in that and you really shouldn’t expect it. So it’s up to you, you could write in whichever format you wish, and if you miss out on anything I’ll let you know what you should have done after the grading. We have a follow-up class scheduled, and -”

“By then it would be too late!” Karen Palmer was frantic now. “Please sir, we really just want to do well in this class, and we want to know what you expect of us.”

“Come now, Ms Palmer. Education isn’t all about grades, you know that -”

“It’s not just a matter of getting A’s, Mr George. At this point we’re afraid we might be in danger of failing the class!”

“And so what?”

The entire room stopped breathing for a second. What did he say? Nadia got jolted from her stupor. The class was alert now, there were no yawns to be had. Rose was frozen in her seat, and Anthony was bolt upright. And to Nadia’s great disgust, Mr George was still keeping his insincere grin.

“Really, so what?” he continued, with a chuckle. “If you fail it’s just another chance to try again. And besides I can assure you now that not everyone here will pass, there is a quota to keep after all. Some will, some won’t. Although Ms Palmer, someone of your charisma surely will -”

The girl stood up, hands on the seat in front of her. “Stop it,” she said, gritting her teeth. “You stop it right now, I know what you’re doing. It’s that false flattery again.”

Mr George’s grin finally fell. “What do you mean?”

“You know very well what I mean. You always flatter us, telling us how good we are, how we’ll surely get all the material in this course, how absolutely nothing will be a problem for us. It’s insincere, and with all the hard work, it’s irritating when it’s all fake. We need guidance, not empty well-wishes! We all failed that exam of yours, and now we’re all in danger of failing this assignment. Your assurances mean nothing!”

There were a few audible gasps. Nadia felt a hand grip her arm tightly and looked sideways to see that Rose had gone white as snow. Heck, though she felt that Mr George needed to be woken up, the exchange was getting a little bit too heated for even for her comfort.

It was remarkable how Mr George remained standing, shaking as he was from head to toe. “L-Look, studies show that challenging students to think … helps t-them learn better,” he said, gripping the table for support. “They’ve been proven to be very effective in -”

“What studies, sir?” a voice cried out from a corner. “Could we see these studies for ourselves?”

Good point, Nadia thought.

“I don’t - I don’t have them right now!” stuttered Mr George. “But that’s besides the point. Now, see here. If you’re having so much trouble with my methods, wh-why don’t you just leave the class? We’ll be fine without you!”

Karen Palmer shot a deathly glare at him. “So that’s your solution? Your students come to you with a genuine problem, and you chase them away? What a poor excuse for a teacher you are.” She turned around to look at the rest of the class. “You all heard him, if we’re having trouble with his methods, we might as well just leave.”

She stuffed her books into her backpack and marched out the door. There was a moment of silence, and gradually a few students got up and followed suit. It was agonising to see them all leave silently, one by one, as Mr George looked on. After the last one disappeared behind the swinging doors, time seemed to slow down; nobody dared to break the tension.

After what seemed forever, at last Mr George got to his feet and said, “I … I suppose we should get started with today’s class … please take out your books.”

He fumbled at the controls for the screen projector before finally getting it working. Sputtering to life, the machine displayed the following words: “Chapter 4: Effective Listening and Conversations.”

And then he stared. For a good half a minute he simply stared at the words.

“I’m sorry, but class is cancelled for the day. I’ll make up … sorry …”

Like a zombie, he staggered towards the door, pushed them open and left. A murmur broke out in the class, gradually becoming a chaotic chatter.

“He left all his things behind,” whispered Rose. “Should we go after him?”

“No need to, it’s no big deal,” said Nadia.

“No big deal? You saw what happened. The guy was devastated.”

“Calm down, Rose. I’m not saying that wasn’t a painful scene. It was. I’m just saying he’ll be fine.”

“But you don’t know that. I don’t know, if it was me, I wouldn’t know how to live with myself. I think he could really have a listening ear right now.”

Nadia patted Rose on the shoulder. “You worry too much. If we need to, we’ll think about it later, okay?”

*

Boom! The sand was blasted metres into the air as the projectile made explosive contact. A distance away, sitting on some of the beach benches, Mittens whooped with excitement while Rose clapped politely.

“Pretty cool, huh?” said Nadia, walking over to them. She was now in her Garde Espresso garb, holding her Giant Spoon of Doom in one hand and her Garde Filter in the other. Notably, the Garde Filter had a tamper affixed to it, the very same one that formed from Claude’s marble.

“I won't deny that,” said Rose. “But Scalding Shot? Seriously?”

“You’re still surprised at this point, Rose?” asked Mittens, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to pull off a move like that for while now!” said Nadia indignantly. “I always thought I could use some long range whizbangs, I just didn’t have the tools to do it. But now,” she twisted the tamper and pulled it out from the Filter, “I have this. You realise what this means right? It’s like a message, I tell you. I’m meant to do this. Scalding Shot … was meant to be!”

Rose was not impressed. “Whatever silly destiny you imagine yourself to be in, it still looks considerably dangerous.”

“Of course it does, silly!” said Nadia, laughing. “How else are we going to get rid of Nihil without it being dangerous?”

“I’m merely saying that we could try minimising the damage during practice. People won’t appreciate giant craters on their pearly white beaches. Why not aim a bit further away from the beach, like at the water?”

“Ah, but are you sure that will ‘minimise damage’ as you say? What about the fishes? Didn’t think about them did you?”

Rose went immediately pale, hands clasped over her mouth.

“Wouldn’t it be a sight?” said Nadia, smirking. “Well, let’s try it out, shall we? Test run number two!”

“You can’t!” cried Rose. “Don’t be sadistic! The poor fishes -”

Nadia burst into laughter. “Are you seriously worried about the fishes? I’m just messing with you, I’m not really going to do it. Besides, any dead ones will probably be appreciated by Mittens.”

“Girl, do you see me feeding you roadkill?” asked Mittens, arms crossed. “No? Then don’t expect me to want dead sea trash.”

“Fine, fine,” said Nadia, shrugging. “Goodness, just trying to have a little fun. You guys all need to chill. And speaking of which,” she stretched out her arms, “time for a break.”

In a brief flash of light, Garde Espresso was gone and plainclothes Nadia stood in her place, jeans, t-shirt and all. Holding up her Garde Filter, she saw that the bright red tamper was still attached to it.

“What is that thing, anyway?” asked Rose, pointing at it.

“This? It’s a tamper. You know at cafes they grind the coffee beans fresh before using them for espresso, right? We need the ground coffee nice and compact in the portafilter, so we press it down hard using this tamper.”

“Oh, I see. But I never see you make coffee at Rendezvous, Nadia.”

“Well, I never really asked Sally about it -”

“Do you know how to make coffee?”

“Not really. Always wanted to learn, though. I mean, it would be really cool to be a barista.”

“Why don’t you ask Sally to teach you?”

“Just three words,” said Nadia, giving a wink. “Too much effort.”

“Ah well,” said Mittens. “The sun rises tomorrow too. Nothing unexpected there.”

But Rose got up, walked over to Nadia and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “I truly do think you’d make a good barista though, if you just try.”

“You really think so, huh?” Nadia had never thought about it before, that is, seriously considering the possibility of being a barista. “I don’t know, Will’s kind of right when he says that I’ll probably just give up halfway through. I mean, you know me.”

“I may not know you as long as Will does,” said Rose. “But I do know you can do this. I don’t say this lightly! I mean, please, a girl who chose to use coffee as her powers? Of all things?”

“Of all things …” droned Mittens.

“Of all things?” repeated Rose. “If that isn’t passion I don’t know what is.”

“Thanks, I guess,” said Nadia. The idea was starting to sound really good to her. Perhaps ...

Then, she saw him. Matthew George was walking towards the beach, hands buried in his pockets and clearly lost in thought. His hair was unkempt and his dress shirt was wrinkled, untucked and half unbuttoned; it was a far cry from his usually neat appearance.

Rose, looking at where her friend was gazing, saw him too and waved. After a few waves, he caught sight of both of them. Face immediately scrunched in fear, he turned around and ran.

“Should we go after him?” asked Rose.

“No need, like I said before, he’ll be fine,” said Nadia. “He should be a pretty tough guy.”

“I’m really not sure about this, Nadia. He looked terrible.”

“Let’s just mind our own business, shall we? He’s going to be alright.”

“But Nadia, what if you’re wrong? What then?”

A sudden flash of annoyance erupted within Nadia and she clenched her fists. “Then why don’t you talk to him yourself?” she snapped. “If you really think I might be wrong, go ahead. Why haven’t you done so already?”

She realised she had said too much, but she couldn’t take it anymore. To her surprise, Rose hung her head and said nothing. Though Nadia felt a tiny tinge of guilt, she forced it down; she needed to get this off her chest and there was no stopping now.

“Like I said before, he doesn’t need help. It’s a simple matter. If he really can’t handle this, I think that speaks tons about his weakness.”

“What did you say?” exclaimed Rose, shocked and flushed red in anger. “I can hardly believe what I’m hearing, Nadia Chen. Is this really my friend? How could you be so judgmental? How could you possibly know anything about how he feels, or what his problems are?”

“No, we’re not doing this. I’m not going to argue this with you -”

“Do you even care? Nadia, he needs our help!”

“Then why don’t you go?” shouted Nadia, ears burning. “What’s the point in standing here? You either solve problems, or you don’t. Same with him. When he decides to stop moping, he’ll figure it out. If you don’t believe he can do that, then stop wasting time and go!”

Before Rose could reply, a loud scream punctuated the air and silenced them. It came from a slight distance away and it was a familiar voice. Could it be -

“Nadia, he’s here,” whispered Mittens. “John Smith.”

*

“Garde Espresso, Garde Tea, how delightful of you to join us.”

John Smith stood proudly in his neat, cream suit. By his side was a humanoid, golden creature with clawed paws and a head of stone. Its feline face, adorned by a headdress, was fierce but frozen in place like a statue. Nadia felt it looked familiar, somehow.

“That’s … that’s a Sphinx,” muttered Rose by her side.

Ah, so that’s what it was, thought Nadia. Those Egyptian things. And that scream just now, it too sounded familiar. It sounded like -

“Matthew George,” said Nadia. “That monster there is Matthew George.”

“Yes, very perceptive, Garde Espresso,” said John Smith. “I believe that’s what he said his name was.”

Both of them were already transformed, yet Nadia still felt apprehensive about charging straight in. She may be reckless, but even she recognised the danger of facing John Smith. Let him play the first hand.

“Let him go,” she said.

John Smith laughed. If there was one thing that really unnerved Nadia about him, it was his laugh, dripping in sarcasm. It was like his battle cry, his display of confidence and will over his enemies. “Oh, you think merely by saying that I’d comply?” said John Smith in a mocking voice. “Honestly? Sure I’ll let him go, I'll leave him free to play with you. After all, I have other business to attend to."

"You're not going anywhere!" shouted Nadia, charging up to him, Giant Spoon and tamper drawn.

Tamper inserted into Filter, she deftly produced a ball of glowing, boiling espresso.

"Scalding Shot!" she cried as she hit it with her spoon and hurled it in the direction of the snarling John Smith.

In a split second, he produced a formidable broadsword. The sword met the projectile, and the two locked in place. Then, like a baseball batter, he casually deflected her Scalding Shot aside. It exploded on impact with a wall.

No time to lose. Nadia charged up to him and swung her spoon with all her might. Their weapons met. Both hands grasping firmly on her spoon, she pushed against it, hoping, perhaps foolishly, to overpower him.

She knew it was futile the moment she saw his cocky smirk. "My turn."

His sword glowed and emitted a massive shockwave that propelled Nadia away. Before she could realise what had happened, she felt a skull-splitting pain that told her she had just crashed painfully into the wall.

She felt her head, balancing on her right arm for support. Her fingers touched rubble. Bricks, mortar, debris. And a sharp pain from her legs. She was trapped.

John Smith was strong, she knew that, but she had only now just realised how outmatched she was.

Where was Rose? Straining her throbbing neck, she saw that Rose was trading blows with the Sphinx. Every strike of her needle-sword on the creature resounded in a loud clang; it seemed that the Sphinx was made of indestructible stone.

"My dear Sphinx, why don't you leave that girl and come play with Garde Espresso here for a while?" drawled John Smith. "She needs some company, and I really must get going."

"You're not going anywhere!" shouted Nadia.

"Stupid girl," said John Smith, turning to her. "I'm afraid you are in no position to make any demands."

With that, he strided out the door. Sphinx, heeding his master's words, gave Rose a hard kick in the abdomen. As she fell to her knees, wincing in pain, he leaped in front of Nadia. Nadia tried to get up, but every effort hurt immensely, and she was no closer to releasing her legs from their rubble prison.

A few seconds passed and the Sphinx did nothing, merely staring at Nadia from glowing, blood-red eyes. She observed his chest heaving in and out as he breathed. She didn't dare move even to wipe the sweat from her brow.

Finally, he spoke, with a booming voice that echoed:

"I have two hands, just like you
With them I accuse, and tell you your cue
and also when your tasks are due."

"Huh?"

The Sphinx paused again, and repeated once more:

"I have two hands, just like you
With them I accuse, and tell you your cue
and also when your tasks are due."

What was this? A riddle?

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Again, he paused, as if considering his next words. Finally, he said, "Then die."