You had your chance.
He turned in my grasp and tried to gouge my eyes, scratching my cheek instead. For an old man, he certainly was feisty. I moved my head away and yanked down hard on his shirt, pulling him off balance. He lurched forward and put his hand out, using the wall outside the conference room to remain upright. He turned again. The shirt tore in my hand as he edged away. Miller saw the advantage in this. He pulled on one end of the shirt as I pulled on the other until the shirt separated into two pieces. He swung his arm up and down until the sleeve slid off, and I fell backward against the wall.
Miller ran out the door of the government building, which was where I was taking him anyway. His upper torso was pale and fleshy; his muscles were flaccid. His fat legs generated no speed. It was easy to run him down. He screamed and twisted, his fists flailing at me and hitting only air. I took hold of the remains of his shirt and deliberately yanked it off.
The obscenities were spilling fast and furiously from Miller’s mouth, along with questions—what, why? A crowd was gathering, and it was asking the same things.
I curled my fingers around the back of his belt and propelled him into the street, steering him in the general direction of the bank. He attempted to run again, and I had to hang on to keep him from escaping. His weight was too much, though, and the belt slipped from my fingers. Miller fell forward, splashing against the asphalt, scraping his elbows. I reached for him.
“C’mon, Miller,” I said. “You’re making it harder than it needs to be.”
Miller rolled onto his back and lashed out at me with his feet. His heel caught me in the upper thigh. He tried to kick me again. I caught his foot. He pulled it back. His shoe came off in my hand, and I tossed it behind me, nearly hitting one of the citizens who had followed us out of the government building. Miller shrieked and tried to spike me with his other shoe. I caught it and yanked it off as well, taking his black sock with it.
Miller rolled onto his knees and started crawling forward. I grabbed his belt again and helped him along. The crowd following us seemed to swell in size as we closed the distance to the bank. Some of the people were telling me to leave the old man alone. Others were laughing. Miller heard the laughter. The obscenities increased in volume and included everyone around him, even his supporters.
I used his arm and belt to pull him upright. He spun his massive body around. An elbow jabbed my fractured ribs. Pain went through me like a jolt of electricity. I pressed my left elbow against my rib cage even as I brought my right hand up. I wanted to slap him down. If he had been twenty years younger, I would have. Instead, I shoved him. He moved several steps backward, lost his balance, and sat on the pavement.
“Why are you doing this?” he said. “I never hurt you. I never hurt anyone.”
Does he actually believe that? my inner voice said. Is he that much of a sociopath?
I grabbed his wrist. He pulled it away and tried to kick me again. I seized his pants cuff. He kept kicking at me. I pinned his leg under my arm.
“Boxers or briefs?” I said.
I couldn’t bring myself to beat up an old man, but humiliate him the way he had humiliated me when his minions dragged me nearly naked from my bed—yeah, I could do that.
I reached for his belt buckle. Miller clawed at my hands, scratching them with his fingernails, yet I managed to open the clasp. Horror colored his face.
“What are you doing?” he said.
I opened his pants and started to yank them down. He clutched the waistband. I slapped his hands away and tugged. Miller screamed. I kept tugging. He kicked at me. I grabbed both cuffs and wrenched the pants off of his hips, his thighs, and his knees, until he was dressed only in white cotton briefs. He shrieked like an animal in pain. The sight of his ashy body caused some in the crowd to howl with laughter. I got the distinct impression that Miller had made many enemies over the years and they were now having a wonderful time. I didn’t like them any more than I liked Miller.
“The emperor’s got no clothes,” someone said.
Humiliation burned in Miller’s eyes. He started to beg. He used the word “please” for the first time since I’d known him.