Update: – Thanks to Nika6435, there is now a Russian translation on Ficbook. You can find it under /readfic/4519753.

Many thanks to MDGeistMD02 for the title, and for his invaluable help and feedback.

"With that grip, the only one you'll hurt is yourself. No. Like this. This is not the same as the shiv you used to threaten the boys from Bottle Street. Now, strike at me."

"You're unarmed."

"And...?"

"What if I hurt you?"

Daud chuckled darkly at the skinny leaf of a girl in front of him.

"If you manage to do that, I'll be impressed."

He held his arms out in front of him, making himself appear an easy target.

"Don't hold back, Billie Lurk. Strike at me with all of your hatred for the world."

The girl rushed forward with the sword, but just before the blade would have pierced his flesh he vanished. Billie almost fell over from the momentum.
From behind, Daud easily disabled her by twisting both hands behind her back. He leaned to whisper in her ear.
"Dead."

With a gloved hand he made a slicing motion across her throat.

In the blink of an eye her arms were free again and Daud was standing right in front of her.

"Again. Try not to die so quickly this time."

Daud smirked as he watched the girl's shocked expression turn to anger. She tried to strike at him again and again, to no avail. This 'training' of his lasted for hours. Morning turned into evening and she was still striking at shadows as he "killed" her hundreds of times over.

Breathless, the girl's penetrating dark eyes stared up at Daud, orange hues of the sunset dimly illuminating the training room through grime-encrusted windows. The room they were in was the former medical wing of the abandoned Dunwall Center for Customs and Immigration, and Billie swore it still smelled vaguely of antiseptic.

The hours seemed to grow longer as Daud continued to taunt her, trying to pick out any weaknesses.

The other Whalers knew not to disturb the training, and so they were truly without any interruptions. Whenever Daud brought in a new recruit, he would devote an entire day to breaking them, forcing them to exert themselves until they passed out from exhaustion. She was already lasting longer than Daud expected her to, though she was clearly in bad shape. The girl panted, her small, overworked body shuddering, yet the fierce determination never faded from her eyes as she gritted her teeth and tried again. When night fell and darkness took the room there was but a minute of down-time as Daud moved about to light the lamps so that they could continue. The girl's stomach rumbled plaintively. She stared with unblinking resentment at Daud's weathered face, illuminated by the dim incandescent lamps. He showed no fatigue and still carried himself as strongly as he did hours ago that morning. Back when she was on the streets, the other kids feared her. Now she felt as powerless as she once did at the hands of her drunk mother.

Billie's hands were blistered and bleeding but she still clutched the sword with anger when Daud's husky voice dominated the room again.

"The minute the others perceive you as weak, they will search for an opportunity to-"

There was a flash of metal.

It had happened nearly as fast as one of Daud's transversals, only this time it was Billie who had moved. And though he had almost immediately used a transversal to move away he removed a rubber glove and placed his bare hand to his face. He was bleeding. The cut was tiny, the width of a hair for he had moved in time before she could cause any real damage, but he had still been grazed by the tip of her sword. He could not find any words to say, partly unnerved he had let his guard down, but mostly astonished at the fact that this sixteen-year-old waif had managed to lay a mark on him. He watched her with new interest. The girl's body began to waver like a tree branch in wind, having used her very last bit of energy in that attack. She dropped the sword and crumpled to the tiled floor like a rag doll.

His footsteps were silent as he slowly walked towards the girl, looking down at her.

"Are you... impressed?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, remembering his words from earlier. Her lips quivered into a smile. Her eyes rested on the Outsider's mark now exposed on his bare hand. Noticing this, Daud replaced his glove.

When he met Billie Lurk just a few days ago she was a cynical, self-destructive girl, her hopeless eyes a cemetery. Now her face shone with pride as she eagerly awaited his approval.

"Yes, Lurk." These words he spoke with a quiet sincerity, but it was immediately back to business as Daud's voice changed to its usual roughness. "Get some rest, but don't sleep in. At the crack of dawn tomorrow morning is when your real training begins."

The girl breathed a sigh of relief and lost consciousness on the grimy training room floor.