Zane scrambled to yank a notebook and pen out of his sack before she’d finished her first sentence. “Be... honest with intentions, got it!” He looked up with a determined gaze, notebook clenched tight and ready to write. “Let the training begin.” He watched Brisa like Steve Irwin would an absolute byoot in the wild, ready and waiting to take any and all necessary notes.
“Subject tense,” he mumbled, writing without taking his eyes off Brisa. “Appears displeased, but unable to communicate its frustration. Will attempt communication.” He lowered his notebook half an inch to give Brisa half his full attention. “Hello, Brisa. I am Zane, and I like being honest about my intentions. How do you feel about honesty?”
The subject watched Brisa carefully. Its notebook seemed sturdy, leather, a stronger material than his bag. Subject seemed prepared for battle, but intent on avoiding it unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps this explained its positioning near the entrance, ensuring escape readiness.
However, our subject did not come as alone as it thought. Near Brisa, but too quiet for the subject to hear, a near identical recreation of its voice began speaking. “Look at the idiot. He tricked you into coming here. You came here to fight, and he’s just sitting there watching you. Studying you like an animal. Why not do what you came here for? Show him what friends do to lying sleezbags and beat the shit out of him.”
The subject remained unaware of the voice, gaze unfaltering. The longer it perceived silence, the more it took note of even Brisa’s slightest movements. “Subject background,” Zane mumbled as he wrote. “Fought with me twice before. Expressed hope in development and willingness to assist. Affinity appeared above average.”
Even still, Zane remained completely oblivious to his shadow’s voice whispering into Brisa’s ear. “Don’t you wanna slit that fucker’s throat? It’s a fake body. A quick trip to Diyem and he’ll be good as new. Death’s a hell of a teaching tool. Teach him how to Bite the Dust.”
Despite it all, Zane couldn’t help a smile. Brisa was still here. She came at all. She really meant it when she said she’d help him out. “Thanks for this,” he said. “I was worried nobody’d want to help me after... everything I’ve done.”
Zane’s shadow returned to his own head, but let kept broadcasting to Brisa. “Yeah, good. Open up to her. Give her every tool she needs to hurt you without raising a paw.”
Zane's smile faltered, nerves took over. He kept speaking, but couldn't muster more than a whisper after the first word. "You... had hope in me." The shadow pulled its claw right through Zane's throat for only Brisa to see.
