Copyright disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda. I mean, I know I'm cool and all, but I'm not that cool.

CHAPTER 7: Ice

If I was ever surprised, it was then. I felt an internal fury as soon as I saw his face, and the liar of a smile stuck onto it.

"Good morning, detective," he said. "May I come in?" I narrowed my eyes.

"I'll have to respectfully decline," I answered coldly. He ignored the comment.

"I saw you the other day on the street, and I thought I just had to come and say hello." He must've seen me the day before, when I was the only person on the street. "I have been standing here for a while, don't you have any manners?"

"You came here to fight me, didn't you?"

"Aren't you an attentive little detective," he said mockingly, and pushed past me, into the apartment. He walked to the windowsill and took a seat. With him sitting there, my attention was drawn to him. He sat with his legs crossed, arms the same, and perfect posture. I couldn't see his shirt because of his cloak, but he was wearing unhealthily tight pants.

"Quaint," he said.

"Please leave," I said icily.

"But I came all the way here just to see you," he said. "It is rude to ask me to leave when I've just arrived."

"Your reason for being here is to fight me, is it not? I'm not in my best state at the moment, and you seem like someone rather confident in their abilities. Can't you just preserve what little integrity you have as a human being and wait until I'm ready to fight you? Trust me, I'd love to fight you too, but now isn't the time. Can you just wait until it's an even match?"

"My integrity as a human being? Oh my. I should tell you now that it will not be an even match. You have the the pubescent body of a twelve year old, detective. I possess, however, the virtually flawless physique for my best interests, and my best interests do include fatally injuring pubescent detectives if need be." He spoke with a perfectly timed meter and a smooth eloquence that sounded very persuasive. His voice was neutral and resonant, though there was a tone of politeness laced with arrogance. "But, so as not to sacrifice my integrity as a human being, I'll wait." I went into a coughing fit that raked through my entire body.

"Ugh," I said afterward, because it'd hurt my already throbbing head. "Get the hell out, then," I commanded with an aching throat. "Please," I added.

"Are you sick?" Gear asked, looking me up and down. Under his gaze, I felt my skin crawl.

"Yes," I replied flatly.

"Mmm, you look absolutely wretched." He stood and walked towards me. I wasn't scared, but I didn't trust him. He reached out to me, and I panicked. Summoning all of the strength that I had available, I forced my fist toward him. He took a hold my wrist easily and pulled my arm up.

"Did you want to fight now?" he asked, with a slinky smoothness. I averted my gaze. It was unpleasant to have him touching me. He snickered and let go.

"Leave."

"I took the time to commute all the way here," he said.

"Fucking leave," I replied, my voice raising.

"You do not curse often, do you? The way you say 'fuck' is very stiff."

"I'm going to call the police."

"Can you risk so many people knowing where you live, detective?" He had a point.

"I'll scream." He perked up.

"That would please me immensely," he said excitedly. "Will you? Should I make you?" A wolfish grin overtook his face. He reached out and took a firm hold of my forearm, right over the slash he'd put there himself.

"Don't—" I began, but I ended up grinding my teeth because he then dug his fingers into it. If I showed him pain, he'd win. He had a childlike wonder on his face.

"Why aren't you screaming?" He was doing this to prove a point: even if I screamed, it wouldn't change anything.

"You're insane," I declared through clenched teeth.

"I do not believe I said anything to make you think otherwise," he answered. "You have a very high temperature," he said. "At least 40 degrees celsius." He dragged me by the arm to my bed.

"Lay down." I didn't move. He made an annoyed sound and pushed me down. He took off his belt and I got a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Get away from me!" I shouted. I tried to kick him away, but he just sat on my legs and pinned down my arms. Using his belt, he tied them behind my back.

"Before I continue, I feel I should share with you this: I am very impatient," he said as he removed his black leather gloves to reveal long fingers with shiny black nail polish on each finger.

"I swear I'm coming for you," I grumbled with pure fury burning my throat.

"Don't interrupt me!" Gear shouted. He cleared his throat and smiled. "As I was saying, I do not like to wait. So I will do what I have to until you feel better, you see." He untucked my shirt and began to unbutton it. I wanted to protest, but I was worried he'd get angry if I spoke again."But, you marred my stunning face, so I have some amount of hatred for you." His demeanor seemed to change after that.

"I swear, I'll fucking rip you apart, you filthy little bastard. I couldn't suggest staying sick, though, because then I'll just beat the shit out of you while you're weak and can't fight back." He cracked his knuckles. "On the other hand, I would enjoy seeing you struggle." By then, he'd unbuttoned my shirt completely, and exposed my chest.

"I don't know what you hope to accomplish by this," I declared stonily. "But I won't give you what you want." Gear walked into the kitchen. Why was he so familiar with my apartment? I tried to stand, but I was weak enough for it to be near impossible to even move. I felt as if I had sunken into the bed, and as if I could never escape.

"Where are your cups?" Gear inquired, sticking his head back into the room.

"Screw you!" I shouted back.

"I'll find them myself, then." I looked around wildly for my phone. It was on the desk, only a few feet away; if I could just stand up, I'd be able to call someone. I tried to direct all of my energy to my legs, but it was no use... There was no hope for me.
Gear walked back into the room holding his cloak, which he'd removed, in one hand and a glass of ice in the other. Under his cloak, he'd been wearing a skintight shirt that honestly could've been a tattoo. It revealed his toned arms and showed off his fit stomach. He set his cloak on my desk and kept the glass in his hand.

"Seeing you like this makes me want to bite your ears off," he said longingly. I made a distressed noise, and he said, "Or maybe strangle you."

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath, shouting, "HELP! A STRANGE MAN BROKE INTO MY—" but it was immediately curtailed because Gear covered my mouth.

"If you are not going to scream for me," he started, pulling a cloth from his back pocket, "your mouth is a nuisance." He removed his hand and stuffed the handkerchief into my mouth in its place. The look in his eyes was manic yet controlled, like someone that knew they were on the line between sanity and depravity. I tried to scream, but it was muffled. my blood began pumping like crazy, and I'm sure my temperature increased.

"You might wonder why I am doing this." I glared daggers at him as he reached into the glass and took hold of an ice cube. He pressed the cube into the middle of my chest, and it began to melt on contact.

"There are a few reasons. First, I just wanted to mess with you. Secondly, I want to be a good villain and help you get into your best form for our imminent battle." The ice cube had melted and the water slowly streaked down my stomach. He took another ice cube and pressed it to my nipple, and I flinched from the sudden cold. I made another distraught noise.

"Lastly. I want you to feel a passionate hatred towards me when we duel. I want you to be driven into the ground by anger, until you are mad with fire." He continued pressing the cube into my nipple and I twitched involuntarily through it all. I'd never been involved in such indecent things, and I couldn't help but react that way.

"Virgin." The cold on my chest felt vivid, and the ice made my entire body feel as if it was cool. Gear took another cube and pressed it into my other nipple. The intense chill made me shiver.

"You are very sensitive," Gear pointed out. He took a hold of my waist, and after sticking an ice cube in his mouth, he bit my nipple and slid the ice cube down his tongue. I held back the sounds that were coming up my throat. My breath came quicker, and I was hot and cold at the same time. I can't say that my mind went blank, because it was fuzzy from my being sick in the first place. My thoughts became muddled.
Gear placed yet another cube in his mouth and slowly brought it down my stomach and drew circles around my navel.

"Mmf!" I let out, because Gear's chest was now on my crotch, and his body heat... Well. I'd rather not say.

"Here, too?" He asked, sitting up and swallowing the ice cube he'd had. I shook my head vigorously.

"Nn-nn," I said.

"Here we go," he replied. Gear slowly undid my fly while staring at me, a smirk on his face. I stared back with pure enmity in my eyes.

"Oh, that's the look," he joked. "You look like you're ready to rip off a few dicks."

No, just yours, I thought.

Gear slowly pulled my pants from my legs until they were completely off, never breaking eye contact with me. He slid his eyes down to my light green boxers and tugged on the hem playfully.

"I was expecting a thong," he said, and removed the boxers. He didn't take them all the way off, and they stayed around one of my ankles.

"Mmff. Mmfff!" I said. I was now exposed in many senses of the word. Gear combed me over with his hungry eyes, then stuck his hand in the glass, which he'd set on the ground earlier. His hand returned without an ice cube, and he took the glass and poured the half-ice, half-water all over me, from head to toe. I was still hot from my fever, and I'd only gotten hotter from Gear's touching me. My hair was now soaked, as was the rest of me.

"Steam is rising from your skin," he commented and walked back to the kitchen, presumably to get more ice. He returned quickly.

"Round two," he announced. I tried to keep my knees together, but he separated them easily. He took an ice cube in his hand and touched it to the tip of my penis. I cringed: it felt a thousand times colder than earlier.

"Your toes are flexing," Gear said. He then took a firm grip of me and began to slowly, then more quickly pump his hand up and down, still holding the ice cube. Cold electricity shot through every part of my being. Sounds began to escape me more often as he continued his quick motion and his hold on me tightened. The ice melted and I was surrounded only by the heat of his hand. While still holding firmly on to me, he took another cube and circled it around my anus. I squirmed as much as I could, tried to kick him, but it was no use. I wanted to scream then more than I had ever wanted to in my life, and I kept shaking my head, saying no, no, no. He pushed the ice cube into me, and another, and another. I had to squeeze my eyelids shut because I felt as if my eyes were about to roll into the back of my head. Slowly, he pushed his fingers into me—the opening was sopping wet, though I still felt an internal shiver. I'd never felt so violated, useless, or dirty. A dull pain came from having something inside that part of me, but the ice numbed it. He put in another finger, and shoved it into me up to his knuckles, again and again. He sped up, both from behind and on my crotch, and my back arched to his touch. Sounds once again found themselves outside of my throat, and in a last feeble attempt to get him stop, I tried to cross my legs. Gear continued, unabashed.

A heat spread throughout my body, stemming from my crotch. It was unbearable, and Gear stopped stroking me and slowly rubbed an ice cube down my shaft. It felt as if something was swelling inside of me, speedily building up. The tension that had accumulated finally released, and I laid there, dazed and panting.
Gear cheekily brought his hand to his mouth, a thick, white, viscous substance dripping from his hand.

"You let out an obscene amount," he said. "You really must be a virgin." He licked his hand carefully, until it was clean. In retrospect, this man's hands will never be clean.
Gear stood and walked to the kitchen. I heard the water running, and I curled into myself.

"Consider yourself lucky today, detective," Gear said as he walked in and untied my wrists from his belt. They were sore from how tight he'd bound them.

"If you were cold, I would have burned a prayer for health into your back."

Sacrilegious bastard.

I was lifeless. He removed the cloth from my mouth and I was parched, it felt as if my mouth had been dried out, my tongue felt like sandpaper. Gear pulled on his cloak and then his gloves as I watched with glassy eyes. I shivered. I wasn't hot anymore, just cold. I felt a thousand hands pressing down on my skin. Gear turned to leave. I coughed.

"Hating you," I began, forcing my dry voice out as Gear half turned and looked down at me. "Hating you wouldn't even be worth the energy." He smirked and walked towards the door.

"I will come for you when I deem you ready," he said over his shoulder. "Thank you for having me over, detective." He left, and the door clicked shut behind him, making everything that'd just happened feel arcane and invisible.

That night, I slept a heavy, dreamless sleep, shuddering under my covers. I didn't move from the fetal position I had initially fallen asleep in. I didn't wake up in the middle of the night.

It was almost as if I was lying in my grave.

I woke, feeling well-rested and lively. I stretched. The soreness in my limbs was gone, as was the pain in my head and the horrid vertigo. I didn't feel hot. I felt miraculously better, but not out of the woods just yet. I realized then that I wasn't wearing clothes, and the reason I probably felt so good. Prompt outrage possessed me.

"Fuck you!" I screamed. "I'm going to shit on your tombstone! I'll set your damn house on fire!" There was a banging on the wall and an annoyed "Shut up" from my neighbor. I was panting from the screaming, but it felt great to get my anger out somehow. The day prior was my first time cursing, and I made a note to pray to Hylia for forgiveness later in the day.

What was wrong with Gear, anyway? Did he have multiple-personality disorder? Anger management problems? It seemed like when he got angry, he was a different person. His speech was more informal and profane. Anyway, I didn't care enough—just thinking about him made me mad.

I took a shower, devoured my breakfast, and got dressed up in my all-nighter uniform sans the sweater, though it was about ten in the morning. I had no idea what I should have done, because I was ahead in work and We had no need for vigilantes in SkyCorp, so I couldn't go out and investigate any new cases. An idea popped into my head. I took out my phone and sent out an email. Though Fi was the only person I allowed my phone number, it was mandatory to have a company email.

I received an excited reply from Eagus, the company's combat and weapon mastery director: Yes! The facility is open at all times. Come train whenever!
I set out to do just that.

The main training facility was separate from SkyCorp, though one floor of HQ was a room used primarily for sparring. Eagus, the brawny, kindhearted instructor, trained every detective in SkyCorp before they could even be considered a detective. One had to graduate from his school as a requirement of SkyCorp before their résumé could be considered. I graduated from his class with top honors, but he always told me, "More spirit, Link! Again, with passion!"
I arrived at the school with excitement making me a bit jumpy. I planned on spending most of the day there. I opened the door, and Eagus stood at the end of the large hall.

Against the wall on both sides were training dummies. The floor was bare and the first level of the school was simply for fighting, there wasn't much there. The second floor was a state-of-the-art fitness room that came to be known as the "death room" because we were regularly assigned all-class exercises that resulted in people passing out from exhaustion. I didn't have a lot of stamina, so I had to step aside more than a few times.

"Link!" Eagus said when saw me. "Welcome home!" he exclaimed, and laughed heartily.

"Good morning," I replied.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Everything," I said. He clapped his hands together, just once.

"We'll start upstairs," he said. Eagus was one of the most compassionate people I'd ever had the privilege of meeting, but when he came to training, he was merciless with a welcoming smile.

"It's best to have you tired before you start combat training. If you have to chase someone down and then fight with them, you could be tired. You'll have to power through. So let's get you exhausted," he said.

We walked up the stairs, and for two hours, I pushed the boundaries of my physical capability. I ran faster than I was able to, lifted more than I was able to, and the fact that I didn't pass out during those 100 sit-ups was more than the will of Hylia.

"Tired yet?" Eagus asked.

"I could do this for at least another hour," I panted, sweat dripping down my back.

"That's the way," Eagus laughed. "Let's head down now," he said with a knowing smile. We got downstairs and Eagus turned to me. "Hand-to-hand first."

"I don't use it all that often."

"Exactly! You need to use it to your advantage. Since you're so small, you can use it to your advantage. Low blows, my friend." I nodded, and he continued. "I know your strongpoint is weaponry, but if you're overpowered, you're going to have to save yourself with something." He put on padded gloves. "You know the deal," he said.

There were fight patterns that Eagus taught us for specific situations. The first one we were taught was only to push someone back. Two punches and a kick. You had to move quickly here, or you could risk retaliation on your opponent's part.
I jabbed left and gave a right uppercut, and a roundhouse kick. Eagus seemed surprised.

"This fervor wasn't present in you before," he said. "Your blows have emotion behind them. You've finally got the spirit." He got back into his stance. "Next."
The next pattern Eagus taught us was to threaten. It was the first patter with the addition receiving a blow, then returning a kick. I executed it well, ending by bring my knee to my chest swiftly and pushing my foot straight out with force. Eagus removed his gloves.

"Let's just spar," he said. "It looks like you've improved too much for the gloves." I nodded.
We circled each other in our stances. Eagus taught us to strike first, because the first blow could predict who would have the upper hand. It didn't necessarily mean that'd you'd win, but it'd show your enemy that you were not afraid and could move relatively quickly. I threw out a fist toward Eagus' shoulder. He blocked it and forced a knee into my stomach. I brushed it off and backed up to get back in stance. Taking a deep breath, I ran at him and we kept a high-speed rally of punches. To break the stalemate, I brought my foot to his stomach and pushed him back. He stumbled. With new confidence, I tried another kick, but he simply blocked it with his forearm.

"Never be arrogant while fighting," he said. "It will drive you to make foolish strikes." I noticed then that his elbow was only a few centimeters from my chest. "Be aware." We called it a tie and moved on to weaponry.

We put on protective gear and sparred but this time with swords. I had a natural flair with swords, but I usually used knives because I always expected sword fights to be equal, and not many people had them. I hit the sword from his hand using my knee.

"Good," he said. "Don't depend on one style of combat. Be prepared for change at all times," Eagus said. "I think you're ready for whatever you wanted to train for."
I bowed to him, and handed him his practice sword.

"Thank you for your time," I said. He ruffled my hair.

"Come back and tell me where that emotion is coming from," he said with an endearing smile.

"Yes, sir."

I left the facility feeling exhilarated. I was ready to take on anyone.

Author's note: Hey there, kids! I have to apologize in advance. I know in last chapter's author's note, I said that I'd update four chapters this week, but it's just going to be three (meaning two more after this one) because I learned that I have to read like half of the freaking bible for my world theology class and then write a damn essay on it. Sorry for the disappointment, everybody. Don't grow up, kids. And don't read porn either. It's bad for your soul (okay, I'm kidding, read all the porn you want).