Um ... most classes ... in my classes, part of the grade is for participation...”Duncan turned to Angela. “See, honey, Tom’s back with us! He immediately saw the major problem.” He turned back to Tom. “Yes, we actually discussed that issue and Dr Taylor is working on it. Grade-wise, anyway, it won’t count against you.”“Cool, Dad. The classes go so slow, anyway. Maybe working by myself, I can go faster and learn more.”“That’s the spirit, sport! Show ‘em what an Armstrong can do!” Duncan grinned.Then he turned to Lynette. “The final part of the school’s agreement concerns you, honey.”“Me?” she squeaked.“Yeah, Mom can tell you about that one.”Angela smiled. “Lynette, you won’t have to worry about ever being chosen for the Program. As part of our deal with the school, they’ve agreed to take your name off the list of pupils to be selected.”“SQUEAL! Ohmygod, Mom!” she rejoiced, hugging her mother. “How ... what ... how did that happen?”She released her hug and looked at Duncan.“Our lawyer. "I have nothing to tell you. Branding me won’t make me talk." Would you like to bet on that, Martica?” The Centurion withdrew the knife from the fire and examined the cruelly-glowing blade as he approached the girl spread on the cross before him.He held the blade before Martica's face; she stared at it, mesmerized. She squeezed her eyelids tightly shut against the searing heat. Then, with a savage snarl, Flavius applied the glowing blade to the inside of her left thigh and held it there. Her soft, perspiration drenched skin sizzled, and her piercing screams shattered the muffled, snow-blanketed quiet of the mountain forest."Yes, Martica, the pain is beyond belief, isn’t it? Tell me what I want to know, bitch, or I’ll burn every square inch of skin off your body!" The Centurion shoved the knife back into the fire, preparing it for its next caress of her writhing body. The sharpened steel glowed red, then white, and he withdrew it from the flames again.Flavius placed the white-hot blade.
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