Jade Gallows, also known as Vendetta. A smart girl, got looks and talent too, and I'll be damned if I know why she's doing the things she does. Especially when she gets hurt. It's a shame. She's just barely 23 and been doing this for nearly three years, then again, I've been doing this since she was 11. I know this, because she was my daughter's best friend.
Her muscles tense as I finish sewing the slash on her arm, giving it a harsh slap to remind her next time to listen to me. She's as stubborn as I am, if not more. In a reaction, she slaps my hand, her fingers hitting my flesh with a loud smack and leaving a red mark. I didn't flinch.
We watched each other for a second. I figure she's sizing me up as much as I'm sizing her up. She's about five foot, ten inches tall, red hair from a bottle, and icy blue eyes. She's pale, thin and dangerous. I forget about the more attractive features about her, I have to. A full mouth, always deep crimson, high cheek bones, slender waist, round breasts, and the undeniable fact that nearly 40 inches of her total 70 inches is made of leg. If she had been allowed to live her life without that moment which has defined both of us, she'd be a model, I'm sure.
What does she see when sizing me up? Six one, peppering sideburns and black hair. Blue eyes and a weathered face that has seen more death than compassion. A hard body, but not for vanity or to get attention, but for aggression and violence. A face with deep set eyes, a square jaw, and a nose that, perhaps, has been broken one too many times. My last dual with the Wolverine has added another mar, I'm missing the top of my right ear.
"I'm going to get changed, then I'll be out of your hair," she says, standing up. Her slim body, young and full of boundless energy, despite what she's seen, moves with such grace. I can't help but notice her sometimes, not now. I put that away. There's a sound out side.
Apparently she hears it too, her eyes darting towards the only door, a simple wood door with a dead bolt, a lock and a chain all crossed and closed. It doesn't stop the intruder. I'm starting to think nothing will stop that hairy bastard.
Jade's first, head strong reaction, is an unfortunate one. Kid's gotta learn. She's fast, faster than him, but sadly, when you're bones are metal, you don't have to be fast. He flings her across the room in an easy sweep of his arm.
She groans and collapses into a small ball, she'll be fine... Eventually.
"Gittin' yer girlfriends ta fight yer battles, Castle?" he asks. Damn drunkard. Damn kid. Damn them all. He isn't attacking right away, which in a way was worse than if he had. At least if he did, I would know that he hadn't spent his time under that cement roller thinking about a way to attack. His pause told me he has a plan, and unluckily enough for me, I am fresh out of cement rollers.
Can't really get away. Not my style to run. Even if it was, can't leave the kid. She'd only get hurt. Who knows what the freak would do to her. Nothing too horrible. But all the skin on his face hadn't totally regrown yet, and nothing he could do would be all too good either.
"Bet ya think yer real funny, eh?" he starts to stalk towards me. I have a .45 in a drawer on the other side of the room. To my left, his right. I'd have to get it with out him noticing. Yeah, that'll be easy. I'd have an easier time getting into the White House.
Gotta hedge a bet. I move half a step. He doesn't seem to notice. Another half a step. Still five feet from the wall, four from the drawer. Another half a step. Getting closer.
"An' whut do ya think yer doin'?" the runt looks at me. Those claws, the 12 inch adamantium claws, not exactly something to argue with. Especially when they're in your face.
He talks too much. Maybe if he had been quieter, Jade wouldn't have been able to sneak up. I'd blame his nose, but the apartment smelt of blood. Her's, mine and other. Even I could smell it.
Clang!
Jade was back on her feet. Good girl. She takes another swing at his head, another, and another. One more thing about her, she very rarely gives up, or in.
Add Wolverine's blood to the scents in the air.
She doesn't say anything, but I notice a red line on her forehead. She cut herself, or he had. Either way, it appears she's taking it all out on him.
The metal bar is twisting, and it won't be long before it gives away completely. Jade knows this as well as I do. She stops when he's on the ground, after hammering the back of his head several more times. Her hand pulls her father's old Berretta from a shoulder holster.
"He's got metal bones," I tell her. She nods. She won't be shooting for a head shot any more.
A little lesson on Wolverine's anatomy. He has metal bones. Above that, they are unbreakable and indestructible. Bullets will not penetrate them, however. If you shoot somewhere behind one of these metal plates, the back of the knee cap for instance, you will tear all the ligaments and tendons, and lodge the bullet in his leg.
That's just what Jade does.
The sounds are hollow as I grab the .45 and look at her. The bottom half of her black jeans are thick with red blood now, and there are spatters on her arms.
One more thing, Jade's a sadist.
She bends near Wolverine's ear and fires, not into, but parallel to. She does this once on either side, making him deaf. She smiles as she does this. She does not like being tossed aside, I know this from experience. She'd rather make her own mistakes, and now Wolverine is paying for one of them.
He rolls around in agony. Blood is every where. She steps on the back of a bloodied knee. He howls louder. God, the neighbours must think we're skinning a cat alive up here. No matter, they aren't exactly the type of neighbours who would call the cops anyways.
Enough is enough, though. This has to end.
I put the .45 down and grab her arm. I'm stronger than her, and it is easy for me to pull her away from him.
"Enough," I say. I mean business, she knows it. Even in the defiance of her eyes, I know she knows it. She shrugs.
"I'm going to get changed," she says, disappearing into the back of the apartment. I hear water running.
The .45 rests in my hands again and I watch the Wolverine writhe in pain. I want to shoot him. For invading my privacy. For being such a turd. But mainly for taking off half of my ear.
We used to be partners. Key word: Used. Maybe some other time. In the future. But not now.
Bang.
I give him another shot to a knee to keep him on the ground as I hear the water turn off. She should be out soon. We'll have to pack up and move over to her place for a day or two, until I can find some place else, where he'll follow me again. Until one of us kills the other.
Such is the life, though.
No friends. No stability. No home.
Right up there with my favourite saying:
No capes. No masks. No mercy.