Author's Note:
Melay8: Maximus and Pascal, argh. I love them in the film. But to put them in a darker retelling is going to be very hard or very awkward.
Romance and Musicals: I realize that this story is very slow going. And that sucks because it's a retelling where everyone knows the ending. Well, half of the world knew the ending of 'Tangled' before it reached the cinemas. But did that stop them from catching it at the cinemas and making it a box-office success? No. Hoefully you too can enjoy this story while knowing how it's gonna end all the way you're reading. There are still surprises here and there though.
PampleMousse07: Thank you for sticking with me.
Chapter 10: Dagger
The spider beckoned to the fly. Mr. Grimmney was waiting at the back of the Tower. But he wasn't doing anything to make the people standing at the base of the Tower to go away. He was just there waiting for her so he could make her clean all the mess and while at it put her up for emotional torture, Gothel was sure of that.
"Miss Bathory, what a mess you've made," he said. And Gothel wasn't just about to stand there and take everything the way she always did.
"You didn't give me that promotion."
"I had a hunch something would go wrong. And I was right."
"Well, it seemed that you've prepared yourself for this."
Mr. Grimmney sensed something strange is happening to Gothel and he decided to play the best card he had left up in his sleeve.
"I ask you again, Miss Bathory, do you want to keep your job?"
Gothel could not answer. She knew that she had trouble letting go and Mr. Grimmney knew it. She could not let go. She could not let go the fact that the University Press rejected her manuscript. She could not let go of the benefits she had by having Rapunzel's ability always at her disposal because she couldn't live without her good luck charm. She could not let go of the Grimmney theme park because she believed that if she stayed long enough there she would make something good out of it. Her dissatisfaction towards her employer had festered like cancerous cells that she even thought of owning the very place she hated. By what means or device she did not know but the answer to it, she believed, was in the book and the pen with the enchantment put by Facilier, right in her large handbag. And it had to be done by the girl she had taken into captivity since she was an infant, locked in her apartment.
"I thought so," Mr. Grimmney said smugly. "Fix this thing, Miss Bathory."
In the light of the current event, a park hand had removed the 'sorry-for-the-inconvenience' sign and people had lined up to see Rapunzel let down her hair.
"Ten percent of your month's pay is going to reimburse these visitors' ticket price."
But Gothel knew the truth. Mr. Grimmney never reimbursed visitors' ticket. He would just take it for his holiday to the Far East. The visitor made faces at her and some yelled. But she took the sign out from the Tower and put it right back in its previous spot. Gothel retreated into the Tower and locked it in.
Gothel let it fly inside the Tower. She cursed and screamed and hit things with her hands. She kicked the stacked up utility boxes under the stairs. They tumbled down and they made satisfyingly apocalyptic noise. One of the boxes fell and up-ended its contents because its lid was not properly secured.
Gothel saw it in an instant. It was not theme park property but a backpack. She had never seen it before. She wondered who it belonged to and she had a paralyzing suspicion that she knew. She unzipped the bag and upended it contents. A bottle of drinking water and two paper bindings tumbled out. She took the thicker one and read the printed words on the cover.
A Memoir of Loss and Hope: Life After Rachel by Algernon & Anna Kingsley.
Gothel threw the thing away like it was on fire.
The past! She thought she was safe beyond reach. But this! The consequences of her crime were staring right at her in the face. She took the other piece of work and read it. Criminal Journalism 401: The Future Vindication of Elizabeth Bathory: The Longevity of Criminal Myths & Mass Journalism by Flynnigan A. Rider. University of Corona, Bachelor of Mass Communication.
Flynnigan Rider! The tresspasser. And the look on Rapunzel's face, as if she was hiding something. Gothel knew it now. The reason behind it was as clear as cut glass. So he was not a random trespasser. He meant to find her, for whatever reason. Maybe he had seen her and recognized the uncanny resemblance to the age progression photos of the missing baby. Maybe he was sent by the Kingsleys to find her. Maybe he was on this passionate academic hunt for his dissertation topic.
Whatever the reason for him was, Gothel knew she must put an end to this. She could not wipe out the Kingsleys, but she could eliminate the link between Rapunzel and her real parents.
Rapunzel! Gothel gasped. What if he had never given up from finding her? Carrying the backpack and its incriminating contents, Gothel made a mad dash out of the Tower, forsaking the visitors, abandoning the theme park.
To hell with the Tower! Gothel cursed. The consequences of her sadistic urge to watch the Kingsleys suffer had come back to her tenfold. She should have moved far away from the University a long, long time ago. Forget the theme park, forget everything. Yes, she did not have the means back then but after few years she had it. But she did not take the necessary action. But now she must. She would take Rapunzel; from this godawful place and start a new life far from here. She threw the back pack into her van, started the engine and sped like a devil to the apartment. Parking the vehicle haphazardly, she ran into the block, climbed the stairs, opened the two doors, not locking the inner one and called Rapunzel's name.
For the first time in her life, there was no answer. She ran to the girl's loft. Rapunzel was not there. The tie-dye bag she gave her was also gone. The black scarf however was left on her bed, like a black coiled snake. Gothel went to the girl's studio with outrageous hope. She found one of the windows' padlocks to the grille was open and she knew the truth. Rapunzel could not have opened the padlock without help. The kind of help from someone who was able to enter the Tower's auto-locked door. The help of a thief.
"Ah!" Gothel tore at her own hair. Her eyes bulged like a reptile's.
"Where can you be? Where will you go?"
Gothel remembered the flyer Rapunzel showed her. The University's Medieval Weekend! If the connection was true, he was probably taking her to the very place that Gothel did not want her to go.
Gothel ran out of the apartment and got into her van once again. She started the engine and drove to the Main Street and headed out to the University. A red neon sign got her attention. It said 'Killer & Sons: Firearms Dealer.' But there was no parking space for about a hundred meters from the establishment. She had to make a turn and find the nearest spot available. She found one in front of a pharmacy. As she went out from the vehicle, she saw the pharmacy and stopped in front of it. She could have entered the place and get herself her Seroquel but said no instead and walked on while seething with self- inflicted rage to the arms dealer.
A small man with a balding head, thin moustache, five o'clock shadow and dark rings under his eyes was manning the counter.
"I need a gun," Gothel said hoarsely.
"You're in luck, we have a new ware today," the man said excitedly and went into the backroom. He came back with a metal box.
"Perfect for a lady like you."
"I want nothing lady-like."
"Wait till you see it."
The man opened the box and presented to her a slim-barrelled hand gun, with tapering muzzle and a firm comfortable handle.
"The Dagger, 9 by 19 mm," he said.
Gothel's eyes gleamed at the sight of it. The body was of grey metallic sheen with pebble coloured handle.
"The Dagger," she enunciated, relishing every syllable.
"Yours for five hundred."
"I have five hundred."
"May I have a look at your firearms license?"
"Do I need a licence to protect my family? Do I need to protect my only daughter from the threat of a criminal in these violent times?"
"Six hundred without a license for processing fee."
"Tell me what it does."
"What?"
"Tell me what it does!"
"Basically, you take off the safety here," the man demonstrated as he said it, "and then you point", as he aimed at the back of the store.
"And pull the trigger."
"And then the small calibre bullet will tear apart a tendon at the very least, or ligament, bone or organ, rendering the part useless. Or at the minimum cause massive bleeding that it goes untreated will cause certain death."
"Here's your six hundred."
Gothel dumped twelve fifty dollar bills on the counter and become the happily demented owner of 'The Dagger'.
And she's headed out to the University to see the lanterns too.