The AU is based on the movie "KILL BILL".
It is beautiful and you really should watch it before reading this.
"Revenge is a dish best served cold."
- Old Klingon Proverb -
Labored breathing echoed throughout the silent church. The sound of foot steps seemed to make the breathing race faster as each step came closer and closer.
"Do you find me sadistic?"
A skinny boy with caramel brown skin decorated with a dozen brown freckles, deep blue eyes, and shaggy brown haired caked with blood laid on the wooden floors looking up at his attacker with rage-filled eyes. He had just taken a severe spaghetti-western-style gang beating. His face was bloody, beaten up, and torn. A hand reach towards his face, the pale milky skin showing a striking contrast to the boys dark bloody skin. In the man's hand is a handkerchief with the name "SHIRO" sewn in the corner, he began to wipe the blood from the boy's face tenderly.
The boy flinched every time the cloth wiped the blood from his bruised face. He might have been flinching from pure pain, or just the fact that he was being touched by the man at all, even if indirectly.
"I bet I could fry an egg on your head about now, if I wanted to." The man continued on, still wiping the blood off.
"No blue, I'd like to believe, even now, you're aware enough to know there isn't a trace of sadism in my actions... Okay - Maybe towards these other jokers - but not you."
Looking down at the boy on the floor showed the giant swell of his stomach. He was obviously very pregnant. For most people didn't know that the boy had been born a woman, but later decided he was a man. He wore a white wedding dress, though now stained with blood. The man with the handkerchief was bent down over him. Four others in black suits were standing around them, two were male, two were female. Four dead bodies also laid in their own blood around them, and the wedding chapel had been redecorated with blood, death and gunfire.
"No blue at this moment, this is me at my most masochistic."
The sound of a gun cocking made the bride's eyes widen in pure terror and rage he finally opened his mouth and spoke.
"Shiro...it's your baby-"
The gun went off and the bride received a bullet in the side of his head.
The city of PASADENA, CALIFORNIA
The Boy was sitting in a parked pickup truck. His eyes focused on a very homey three-bedroom house in the affluent suburb of Pasadena, California. A purple Dodge Neon sat parked in the driveway. A tricycle, a big wheel, and a few toys sprinkled the grass on the front yard. A mailbox with the name "The BELLS" on it sat out in front of the lawn. The sound of an ice cream truck bells somewhere nearby.
The Bride opened the truck door, slamming it close as he got out. He walked straight for the door to the home, his face blank and devoid of emotion. He quickly pressed a finger against the doorbell.
The front door opened and an attractive black housewife with long silver hair tied in a tight ponytail, bright blue eyes, and the same age as the bride stood in the doorway. The Housewife's face showed immediate recognition of the brunette on her doorstep.
He gasps in pain as he is repeatedly kicked and thrown and punched, all the while protecting his vulnerable stomach. A black woman punches him in the face...it's the housewife, five years earlier.
The Cuban boy shot forward and punched the woman straight in the face, forcing her back into her home. The Cuban sent out a kick that was quickly blocked by the housewife, but not the smack the came next. The boy ran towards her to grab only to be caught and swung around, flying towards a painting and landing on a bookshelf before falling to the floor. The woman sent down a powerful kick to the Boy's head, but he blocked it and quickly kicked the woman right between her legs. It still hurt when it happened to a woman anyways. When she bent over in pain, another kick went straight to her face. The woman cried out in pain and flew backwards into the coffee table and shattered the glass and landing on her back.
While down The Housewife quickly picked up a broken piece of wood from the coffee table and smashed it against the Boy's leg when he jumped over the couch to her. He quick shouted in pain and fell to one knee. The Housewife swung again, this time at his head, but he dodged and fell onto his back. The woman swung again but the boy caught it quickly and shoved a foot onto her stomach and kicked her off him. The woman flew forward and flipped over completely on her back. The Cuban raced forward and wrapped an arm around the woman as she started to get up. Effectively cutting off her air supply.
The Boy tightened his grip fiercely and the woman clutched at the arm, choking noisily. The two eventually dropped to the carpet ground filled with broken glass. The woman punched weakly at the tight arm. Out of the corner of her eye, the woman saw one of the fireplace pokers and grasped one desperately. One firm wack against the Boy's head made him cry out and release her. The woman stood shakily and swung out at the boy who grabbed the poker and kicked the housewife into an ornamental iron and tempered-glass bookcase that has framed family photos, display toys, some African art, and a collection of painted commemorative plates depicting the negro experience in the American military.
The Housewife immediately grabbed the bookcase and threw it onto The Boy where the glass shattered and he curled up to protect himself. He growled and pulled himself out of the bookcase as fast as he could and raced after The Housewife into the kitchen, dodging the swift swipes of the butcher knife in her hand. The Boy grabbed a frying pan off the stove and blocked the many swipes aimed at him. The two yelled and screamed at each other as they attacked and blocked relentlessly. The woman finally cut the side of the boy's hand making him yell and drop the pan. He blocked the next strike but was kicked directly in the stomach. He fell back and landing on the dining table, before moving just in time to avoid getting impaled.
The Boy rolled underneath the table and wiped out his hidden knife and stabbed through the table, missing the housewife by a few inches. He kicked the table and forced her to fall to the side with it. The boy jumped over the table and the two stared each other down and stalked each other, each holding a blade, each looking like they knew how to use it, each waiting for the other to make a mistake so they can plunge their blade deep into the other one. Blood and sweat dripped off of their faces as the two were locked in a life or death combat.
The black woman glared and cocked a hand towards the boy, jeering at him.
"Come on bitch." The boy growled and flipped his knife expertly in his hands as the two walked back to the living room. The woman kicking away a table leg without looking.
Each jerking with small swipes to the other, eyes filled with hate and anger. Both were then directly in front of the living room window for all outsiders to see.
The the sound of a large vehicle slowing to a stop outside made the pause. A few darting glances checked, but not taking complete attention off the other.
The woman bit her lip and stiffened at the sight of the school bus. The doors opened, revealing a little boy with dark skin, white hair, and a Scooby-Doo lunch box. The housewife's eyes flashed a look of pleading to the eyes of the boy.
He stared at her for a few seconds then said, "Okay."
The two quickly put their weapons behind their backs as the door opened and a tiny voiced called out, "Mommy, I'm home."
The housewife quickly switched to her 'Mommy' voice, "Hey baby, how was school?"
The little boy was flabbergasted at the mess, and the condition of his mother, who looked like she's just been in a bar room brawl.
"Mommy, what happened to you and the T.V. Room?"
"Oh...that good for nothin' dog of yours, got his little ass in the living room and acted a damn fool, that's what happened baby."
"Barney did this?" He said it with the slightest hint of skepticism, then tried to enter the living room.
Her mother quickly held up her hand to stop him.
"Now baby, you can't come in here, there's broken glass all over the floor, and you could cut yourself." The mother's voice was a bit breathless.
The little boy's eyes go to the brunette boy in the living room who she had never seen before, who also looked like he'd been fighting. The Cuban smiled at the confused child. The housewife nodded at him.
"This is a old friend of mommy's I ain't seen in a long time."
"Hi honey, I'm *(BLEEP)*, what's your name?"
The shy, suspicious little boy didn't say anything, he just stared at the boy. The mother and Boy wait then she turns to him.
"His name is Alfor."
The boys side-eyed the housewife before smiling at the little boy.
"Alfor. What a interesting name for a little boy. How old are you Alfor?" Alfor still said nothing, only stared.
"Alfor, *(BLEEP)* asked you a question." The housewife prodded.
Alfor looked at the boy for a few more seconds before saying, "I'm four."
The boy nodded slightly, "Four years old, aye. You know I once had a little girl. She'd be five now."
The mother looked at the boy with tight eyes before walking over to her son.
"Now baby, me and mommy's friend have some grown-up talk to talk about, so you can go in your room now and leave us alone till I tell you to come out. okay?"
Alfor didn't move, only staring at the boy.
"Alfor." The mother snapped her fingers to get his attention. "In your room. Now."
The little boy slowly walked away and disappeared behind the door of his bedroom. The two adults turned to face each other, masquerade and combat both finished. The mother sighed.
"You want some coffee?"
"...Yeah, sure."
The housewife closed the still open door. The two both moved into the kitchen. The boy re-sheathed his knife, and the housewife put the butcher knife back in the drawer. The boy sat down at the kitchen table, while the woman poured both of them coffee.
"Cream and sugar?" She asked.
"Both, please." He replied.
This Pasadena homemaker's name was Aliane Bell. Her husband was Dr. Lawrence Bell. But back when the two present were acquainted, five years ago, her name was Allura Altea. Her code name, was 'Azemiopinae'...his was 'Black Mamba'.
The two combat artist sat at Allura's kitchen table, sipping coffee in silence.
"So I suppose it's a little late for a apology, huh?" Allura stated more than asking.
"You suppose correctly." The boy said, sipping more.
"Even if I was sincere?"
"Oh. I'm quite positive you're sincere, now."
Allura hissed at the boy across the table furiously but with low volume; "Look bitch, I need to know if you're gonna start anymore shit around my baby boy!"
The boy raised an eyebrow at her, "You can relax, for now. I'm not going to murder you in front of your child."
Allura stared at him, as if searching for any lies, "That's being more rational than Shiro led me to believe you were capable of."
"Well that's a demonstration of Shiro's complete ignorance when it comes to the subject of me, and what I'm thinking, and what I might do. It's mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack, not rationality."
He paused for effect, then, "I'll wait for now, but I won't wait for long. I'll allow you to choose a time and place for us to meet again, preferably as far away from Alfor as possible. I could have just HIT you, I didn't, I demand respect for that. Since this is not a HIT, consider it a DUEL. And as two former Deadly Vipers, we will observe Viper rules of honor. One on one - no help - no bushwhackin - no treacherous weapons - one weapon of choice - our skill and our bodies."
"*(BLEEP)*"
"- I'm not through telling you. Failure to keep our date, or duplicity of any kind, will result in me putting a xoxo hollow point bullet into the back of your skull from a window of a building across the street from Alfor's elementary school. Now, feel free to respond."
Allura looked at him with pleading eyes.
"Look...I know I fucked you over. I fucked you over bad. I wish to God I hadn't, but I did."
The boy listened to the black woman with a poker face.
"If I could go back in a machine I would, but I can't. All I can tell you is I'm a different person now."
"I don't care."
Allura paused, biting her lip.
"Be that as it may, I know I do not deserve mercy or forgiveness. However, I beseech you for both on behalf of my son-"
"-Bitch, you can stop right there."
The B-word stopped Allura short, almost like a cold-handed slap in the face.
The boy leaned in close to her.
"Just because I have no wish to murder you before the eyes of your son, does not mean parading him around in front of me is going to inspire sympathy. You and I have unfinished business. And not a goddamn fuckin' thing you've done in the subsequent five years - including getting knocked up - is going to change that."
Allura stared at him with wide eyes, "You have every right to wanna get even-"
"- But that's where you're wrong, Allura. I don't want to get even. To get even, Even Steven. I would have to kill you, go into Alfor's room, kill him, then wait for your old man, Dr. Bell, to come home and kill him. That would make us even. No, my unborn daughter will just hafta be satisfied with your death at her mother's hands."
Allura knew no matter what else could be said, blood will spill.
"When do we do this?"
"It all depends... When do you want to die? Tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? That's about as long as I'll wait."
"How 'bout tonight, bitch?
"Splendid. Where?'
"There's a baseball diamond where our little league has its games, about a mile from here. We meet there around two-thirty in the morning, dressed all in black, and we have us a knife fight, we won't be bothered. I have to fix Alfor's cereal."
As they continued to talk, Allura pulled down a cereal bowl for her son and laid it on the kitchen counter.
"Shiro said you were one of the best ladies he'd ever seen with an edged weapon." The boy commented.
Allura moved to another kitchen cabinet, and pulled down a box of the sugar cereal, 'Kaboom'.
"Fuck you, bitch, I know he didn't qualify it, so you can just kiss my motherfuckin ass, Black Mamba," She snorted to herself, "Black Mamba, I shoulda been motherfuckin Black Mamba."
As the two continued to talk, Allura reached her hand inside the cereal box.
"Weapon of choice? And if you want to stick with your butcher knife, I'm cool with that." The boy said, leaning back in his chair.
"Very funny." Allura swung around.
Allura fired a gun from inside the cereal box at the boy.
The bullet exploded out of the cardboard box, and hit the coffee mug directly in front of the Cuban, blowing it to smithereens. The boy threw himself onto the floor. Allura pulled the gun out of the cereal box and fired again. The bullet hit the floor of the tiny kitchen.
The Cuban moved under the kitchen table, then using his back, lifted the table off the ground, rammed it straight into Allura, pinning her flat up against the table top, and the kitchen counter. While his left hand held the table, his right hand went to the SOG on his belt, his fingers wrapped around the blade's grip, lifting it up out of the sheath and plunging it through the table top up to the handle, with all the knife's steel entering Allura's abdomen. The table fell back to the floor with the dying homemaker pinned to it. The two former colleagues met eyes.
"Sorry, bout the bushwhack. Please don't..." Allura trailed off, looking at the boy with tear filled eyes.
"Do to your child, what you did to mine..." he took her hand, "...I won't."
Allura slumped over, her eyes glazed with death.
The boy removed his knife, looked up and saw little Alfor standing in the doorway of his room. The little boy saw his mother dead on the floor, lying in her own blood. And he seen the brunette boy standing over his mother, bloody knife still in his hand. But oddly enough, Alfor didn't cry. The little boy locked eyes with the big boy, and held his stare.
As he talked to the little boy, he removed an already stained with blood white handkerchief with the name "SHIRO" sewn on it. And the Cuban wiped the boy's mother's blood off his blade.
"It was not my intention to do this in front of you. For that I'm sorry. But you can take my word for it, your mother had it coming. When you grow up, if you still feel raw about it, I'll be waiting."
And with that apology, statement, and invitation, the Cuban walked out the kitchen side door, leaving the little boy to his mourning.
The boy walked down the dead woman's driveway to his vehicle. He glanced at the lawn toys one more time as he made his getaway. He climbed into his big, yellow pickup truck, with the words "Pussy Wagon" written across the flatbed's hatch door in a pimpy font.
He took out a ringed notebook and turned to a page that's headline reads;
DEATH LIST FIVE
On the pager were five names numbered going down the page written in red ink. The first name had a line drawn through it with black ink. The second name on the list was;
ALLURA ALTEA
AZEMIOPINAE
The boy took a black felt pen and drew a line through Allura's name, turned on the truck's engine, and drove out of the residential district.
Allura's snake - wikipedia/commons/8/89/Azemiops_
Fight scene clip - /pych_H351zI