Author's note: Hello my readers! Welcome to the laziest, stupidest chapter imaginable. I'm not responsible if it gives you cancer. Viewer discretion is advised.
Day 18:
Pepper was filming the inside of Mundy's camper van. Again. He needed to go terminate the third man on his infamous list, the one who caught him a while ago, while he was camping in the clock tower. This time he tried again, driving to another town. Mundy didn't talk to her at all since yesterday. And the more time she spent alone, the guiltier she felt. It wasn't her fault, anyway. She wasn't the one that tried to suck his face. She didn't even insinuate it…did she?
The thing that most bothered her was that he called her a kid. She was in no way a kid, not since she came down here. Sure, she wasn't completely mature all the time… the thought of her grabbing Mundy's leg when she wanted to come to the stake-out with him popped into mind, looking like a terrifying flashback. But after that she was about as mature as he was. He threw her out in the desert for God's sake! Even if it was for twenty minutes, it was still a childishly stupid thing to do.
Stupid, pompous, proud, obnoxious, uneducated, reticent… meanie.
Anywhooo…
"So here is the ashtray. Again. And this here's the empty gun rack. Again. And this is the suitcase I brought from Boston. Again. And this thing here around my neck is a painful reminder of how Mundy thinks I'm a retarded brat who doesn't deserve his love and will never come close to kissing me… again."
She pointed her camera at her neck. Looking up at the ceiling, she groaned. She plucked at the material the inside of the van was padded with. The van had the same smell as most vehicles had, slightly metallic, but also with a hint of exhaust fumes and new carpeting. Pepper was worried that if she continued to spend hours and hours in the van, she will not only grow insane, but develop some strange disease, as her lungs and nostrils start to produce mould shaped like tiny pine- air fresheners. She marched down to the small coffee table in the back, and noticed the small discolorations on it, circular and brightly yellow. Going completely mad, she filmed the table.
"This, dear person who is watching this, is a one of a kind, indispensable coffee table. Who knows how many hours our friendly neighborhood assassin spent on it, planning his next kill? How many cigarettes he put out on its surface? This table, this symbol of Australian pride and freedom, which comes second only to American pride and liberty, is…" she kneeled under the small table, looking at the small sticker at the bottom.
"…is made in China."
Pepper cursed, dropping the camera on the table, giving it a spin and collapsing on the bed. The documentary, if she could even call it that, was going nowhere. She kicked off her martens and stretched her legs. She rolled over to the side, on Mundy's pillow. She took a couple of deep, almost obsessive inhales before rolling to the side.
"Boooooooooored!" she groaned. Honestly, she thought Australia would be like a three week long party. But as it turned out, this little trip of hers was more like a intimate get together, followed by a massive hangover, which was weird because nobody actually had anything to drink. But she couldn't keep thinking about this metaphor.
"Boooored. Booored. Bo-ho-hooored…" she sung in a beat. She wasn't bored, per se, but mostly irritated that she was forced to stay here in this tiny carpeted cubicle. She groaned once again and flipped back on her stomach, landing with a satisfying thump.
At that moment, Mundy walked in the van, his black vest covered in blood, and a large grin on his face. He opened his closet and tossed a small bag full of teeth in it. Pepper grinded her teeth as she heard the slight rattling of teeth as they landed on the wooden shelf. She assumed that the hunt of his went well.
"Hello to you to." She growled at him, focusing her gaze at one small stain on the wall.
"Huh?" Mundy turned in his driver's seat, crossing off a name in his file. Just one more person and his mission will be complete. He grinned at the thought of the prize money.
"Hi, Sheila." He smiled at her, slightly gracelessly.
"I guess you got the guy, huh?"
Mundy cackled. "Sure 'ave! You should see the 'avoc in the streets, Sheila. People are ridiculous. Nobody even saw me walk out. Now that's what I call a clean kill." He said, starting the engine. Pepper remained silent. The van slowly turned from the parking spot, tucked away behind some high trees. It took them about 20 seconds to get out of it and get on the road. Nobody followed them, and they drove at a steady pace. A news crew drove straight pass them, possibly to report on the murder. Mundy watched them drive past them.
"Idiot wankahs!" he jeered. "Boy I tell ye, Sheila, you should 'ave been there. It was just so… easy, y'know? Bloke's not so tough without his body guards around." He turned to her; "Always assess your situation before makin' a clean kill, that's wot oi always say. Anyway," he returned to looking at the clear road, swerving to the side; "Oi'm just sorry you didn't film. It would be some good material. Unless you're still frightened because of last time." His voice got lower. "Oi don't blame ya, either. First toime oi killed, I threw up for a week straight. You've actually done quite well."
Pepper still remained quiet, even when Mundy made a sharp turn to the right. She wondered where they were going, but was too stubborn to ask. For a brief, terrifying second, she thought that it might be considered immature of her.
"So, uh… where are we driving?"
Mundy started to drive up a small hill. It was relatively small, but very steep. He drove slowly, almost excruciatingly so.
"Oi'm takin' ya to me favorite place in the world. The Macquarie Marshes. They're not far from here, so I figured we could stop by."
Mundy took Pepper's silence as an invitation for further explanation.
"It's me favorite place in the world. Every year, me dad and oi used to go there. Pretty soon, oi started going there myself. Fact is, that bracelet you're wearin', came from a croc I caught there."
Pepper grasped her cold necklace, cursing herself for wearing it. In fact, she didn't take it off at all. Somehow, she hoped that it would remind Mundy that they almost kissed, that he could, he should, try again. However, that man had less motivation than a scrambled turnip. She was still mad at him for not speaking to her at all yesterday. Today he was in too good of a mood to ignore her.
"'course, those crocs are extinct now, as oi recall." he continued. "But those marshes are me favorite thing in the world. Oi… oi would really loike you to see them, Sheila."
He turned to her, now getting irritated by her silence. He groaned and let go of the gas pedal when he reached a small clearance at the top. Pepper looked at him, puzzled. Mundy walked up to her and sat on the bed, cupping his head in frustration.
"Alroight, Sheila. What's the problem?"
You turned me down like an order of spoilt beef and ignored me the next day, that's what the freakin' problem is!
"Nothing, Mundy." she said sarcastically. At that point he gently put his hand on her shoulder.
"I know it's something, Sheila. Just tell me what it is. Oi hate to see you upset… 'specially if you're this close to leavin'…" he rubbed the soft fabric of her cotton shirt, in a way which was both irritating and incredibly soothing. She jerked her shoulder back, making him move his hand away.
"I told you it was nothing, Mundy."
The marksman rolled his eyes again, much to his discomfort. He was never used to those sarcastic movements more suitable for the young Sheila. He rubbed his forehead, counting to five in his mind.
"Alroight, Sheila. If ye say it's nothin', then it's nothin'."
5…4…3…2…1…
Pepper's next sentence was perfectly executed, just as Mundy stopped counting.
"I'm not a kid, ya know."
Mundy dreaded this conversation. If he said that he didn't like this girl, he would be lying. And two days ago, he had the perfect chance to make his move. She looked astonishing that day, the soft sunlight shining on her pretty face, clutching the necklace he gave her. An instinct commanded him to grab her and kiss her, make her his own. But it would have been inappropriate. It would have been impolite. It would have been…unprofessional. A girl this young… he was too much for her to handle. A spoilt little suburban brat finally living her life in the big city, and coming to Australia to work on fulfilling her dreams was not the type of girl he should be with. She was only temporary, Mundy knew that. In about a couple of days, she would be gone. And if anything happened between them, they would regret it.
Mundy knew it was the right thing to do, leaving her like that. She may not have liked it, but he did her a great favor. He avoided her for the next day, hoping that she would forget this, and that they would continue on with their little road trip, bickering over every other thing that comes to mind as they did before. It was too early for them to even attempt anything, and they both knew that. He shouldn't have any interaction with this young girl, romantic or otherwise. Mundy's mind was made up, but the rest of his body still needed convincing.
"I'm not a kid, Mundy." She repeated, waiting for a response. It was a slightly drab day outside, a couple of gray clouds accumulating over the vast sky. Mundy pretended that he didn't know what she was talking about.
"…alroight, Sheila. You're not." he shrugged.
"Don't play dumb with me, Mundy. You know what I mean." She was kneeling on the couch, looking him straight in the eye, but not raising her voice. "You know damn well what you said to me when you tried to kiss me."
Mundy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and begging for patience.
"Sheila, please, not today." He took off his bloody vest and tossed it on the ground. "Oi know you think that wot oi did was…"
"Terrible? Tormenting? Just plain mean? Retarded?"
"…not exactly the words oi was lookin' for." he raised his eyebrow. He gently cupped her shoulder, trying to make her listen to him. "Look, Sheila, oi know that you think that that was stupid of me, but one day, you will understand…"
"I don't want to understand!" she shrieked, slapping his hand off. "I am not a freakin' kid! I don't know if you realize this, but I guarantee you that I am a mature grown-up who actually has some intelligence. And don't you dare insult my intelligence with that "it's for the best" crap of yours." her nostrils flared angrily. Mundy stayed calm and collected, emphasizing every word.
"It's not about me insulting you, Sheila. Oi'm just…oi'm getting too old to do this. Oi'm getting too old for you."
"Bullshit!" she crossed her arms.
"Oi'm 17 years older than you, Sheila! Oi could be your father!"
"Look, as far as I see it, we are both sensible adults. If I'm allowed to work in a brothel and drive, there's no reason for us to…"
"You cannot drink, Sheila. You're still too young to understand some things." He looked away from her, feeling slightly humiliated. "Oi just don't think it is supposed to work. You're leaving soon, anyway."
"All the more reason!" Pepper sat on the bed, placing her hands on her knees. "You can say everything you want, but if you don't feel like I do, just for a bare second," she made a pinching motion at him; "you wouldn't have tried to kiss me."
"Oi don't know what came over me! Oi'm sorry oi was irresponsible back then, but that was just a moment of…"
"Victor!" she cried, making him look straight back at her.
"You don't have to plan every moment and calculate every possible outcome. Be spontaneous, like I am! You're not on the job now. Relax, damn it!"
"Wot in bloody hell do you want me to do, Sheila?"
"This!"
With that, she grabbed the back of his head and leaned forward, pressing her soft lips against his. His eyes were wide open with surprise, as Pepper pushed her lips against his, strongly and uncontrollably, trying to get all her tension out. He pushed her lips back with his, buying himself some time to figure out what to do next. He grabbed her back and pulled her closer to him, making her gasp. She lightly parted his lips, letting her soft, silky tongue caress them softly. The marksman closed his eyes, finally coming to a conclusion that this is the time he shouldn't think. Pepper placed her hand on his abdomen, softly touching the ridges of his abdominal muscles through the sot, thin fabric. The movements became faster as she developed a rhythm. Unexpectedly, he pushed her against the wall, forcing himself on her small bosom. She reacted by stroking the back of his thighs, making him grunt. The kiss was passionate, intoxicating, and one of the most forceful ones Mundy ever endured. It lasted for about less than half a minute, when Pepper nudged him off her, gasping for air. Her body was pounding, and she looked at him with lustful eyes.
Mundy didn't want this to happen. But now, he was glad he did. This girl had something in her, something that made his head spin. They looked at each other, panting heavily. The temperature rose for about a hundred degrees, and small beads of sweat formed on the girl's forehead. She forced herself to calm down. As soon as she did, she looked down at her lap and apologized in a croaked voice.
"I…I just… was that too much?"
Victor felt his heart violently racing. No kill could make him as excited as he was now. This girl that walked into his life, wearing martens and dragging a black matte suitcase was something different. She was like a cure for a dying man. He licked his dry lips and looked at this young lady who made him question all he learned in his workplace about discipline and professionalism. Pepper made his life worth living again. And there is no way in hell that he's going to back away that easily.
"Was that too much?" she said with pleading eyes, expecting the answer "yes" but hoping for a "no".
Mundy pushed her down, grabbing her wrists gently, yet firmly, and kissing her once more. The kiss was passionate, forceful, and it made her toes curl.
"It wasn't enough."
Twenty minutes later, they were laying on the red couch that was leaning slightly to the side, staring at the carpeted ceiling. Mundy held a lit cigarette in his left hand, occasionally taking a drag. Pepper was tucked between his arm and his chest, her hand resting comfortably on his stomach. She wasn't looking anywhere, but her eyes were pointed at the heavens, smiling and shining with euphoria. She chuckled occasionally, and let out a sigh.
"That was…" she finally spoke after three minutes of short, joyful giggles; "…that was… That was pretty good." She smiled at him. The marksman took another drag, blowing the smoke in small expanding circles.
"You okay, Sheila?" he asked with a smile. "I didn't hurt you, or anything, did I?"
"No, not really. I mean, the first couple of minutes were slightly painful…" she bit her lip, recalling the sharp, continuous pain.
"Oi'm sorry." He kissed her forehead lovingly.
"No, no, no, it's alright. I… I enjoyed it for the most part." She turned to the side, facing the road they were supposed to go down. "Does it always last fifteen minutes?"
"Depends." He said, taking yet another drag and blowing the smoke through his nose. "Sometimes longer, sometimes shorter…"
Pepper turned at him, looking slightly shocked. She batted her long eyelashes at him.
"You're telling me it can be even shorter?" she almost sounded appalled.
"You really are a virgin, Sheila." He was slightly insulted by this remark, but managed to laugh off his annoyance upon realizing how disappointed the girl would be later in life.
"Were, Mundy. You really were a virgin." she corrected him. She felt his strong arm around her waist. She smiled, thinking how easy it was to get over this dreaded moment. If done with the right person, it can be quite magical.
"You do realize, Sheila, that this is the stupidest thing we could 'ave done roight now?" he asked, flicking his cigarette ashes on the couch.
"Are you honestly gonna make me feel guilty about it now, Mundy?" Pepper moved up closer to him, the couch squealing in pain. "Sorry about the sofa, by the way."
"It's alroight. Damn thing was meant to be broken someday."
Pepper closed her eyes. Finally, she found a person she can trust. Even if she was going to leave him soon, she knew that somewhere, there was her complete opposite that fits her perfectly. Nothing will ruin this moment. Never, in a million years.
Suddenly, the van jumped up. Pepper opened her eyes wide, not knowing what had just happened. Even Victor seemed bemused.
"Wot in bloody 'ell?" he muttered, putting out his cigarette on the coffee table, a small streak of smoke coming out of the yellowing surface.
"Uh…Mundy? When you stopped the car on the hill, did you put it in park or reverse?"
The question didn't need to be answered, as they both saw a couple of large trees going past them at what seemed to be rapid speed.
"Piss!" Mundy exclaimed, practically jumping over the stunned girl and the wooden coffee table, and running to the driver's seat buck naked, obviously panicking. Pepper couldn't help but chuckle at Mundy's ghastly sprint across the vehicle.
"Oh…This I've gotta film." Pepper said, emitting a short chuckle and grabbing her camera.
Well, at least I'm not bored anymore…
Day 19:
A mosquito is nature's flying platypus. At least, according to Pepper. Flying little useless creatures that failed to have any use for the world, and were considered God's drunken mistake. And it was a mosquito that woke up Pepper that morning, buzzing around her ear.
She was sleeping on the broken red couch when the nefarious insect flew across her face. Her reflexes still damaged, she only managed to wave her hand around, smacking the thing without actually doing it any harm. She scratched the back of her arm, where the thing stung her while she was sleeping. Enraged by this annoying being, she clapped in mid-air, leaving the thing dead on her hands. Her palms were covered in blood, and she failed to grasp the concept of a tiny insect having that much blood in his system and still wanting more.
"Gross." She commented and cleaned the blood off the couch. You can't see red on red, can you? She sat up on the couch, looking at the coffee table in front of her. On it was her crocodile tooth necklace, and her camera. She slipped on the necklace over her head, like she did for the past three days. She fingered it slightly, recalling the memories of the past few days.
"I think I broke my pelvis." she yawned, laughing away the thought. When she finally got around to getting up, the sun was shining brightly through the loosely drawn curtains. Pepper guessed that it was about noon. She squinted at the sun, shining oddly with a strange greenish glow.
"Mundy?" she called out, listening closely for a response. It didn't come.
"Mundy?" she continued, her calling turning into teasing. "Mundy? Victor? Vic? Vicky? Sugar? Weird Guy Who Drives Me Around Whose Name I Forgot?" she opened the door of the van, letting in some more blinding light.
"Victoria?"
Victor stood before her, looking at the distance. But what he was looking at was indescribable. It was absolute perfection. The sun gleamed over the emerald tree branches, intertwining in mid-air, making a leafy cover, hovering over the larger patch of shallow water. The five herbig trees reflected against the water's smooth surface. A couple dozen dragon flies flew above its surface, flapping their silvery wings, occasionally landing on a long thin blade of grass. A family of geese flew up in the air, giving Pepper a slight fright. She admired their impeccable wing work, flying off in a perfect V, their long brown wings flapping in harmony. It was an extremely muddy place, but covered with many small bushes and tall trees, making her feel like she was on a beautiful plain. The sun shined brightly, yet the atmosphere was very crisp and slightly chilly. Crickets chirped in the distance loudly, calling their mates. All of this beauty on one spot. Pepper nearly dropped her camera.
"Is this the swamp you were talking about?" she said in a croaked, sleepy voice.
"The Macquarie Marshes. I knew you'd loike it, Sheila. We won't be doin' any hunting today though, gotta save my ammo."
Pepper nodded in understanding. She took out her camera and started filming the beauty around her. She needed to capture as much as she could. Her still stiff feet dragged her to a grassy patch, which was relatively dry. She sat on it with a loud sigh, holding her bare freezing knees tightly while filming the panorama. She pointed her camera at the van, parked on the grassy field. Its wheels were muddy and covered in thin blades of grass. She failed to comprehend why someone would go through the trouble of driving all the way through the grimy muck, even if the destination was this fascinating. Pepper was always slightly lazy, and she shook her head upon realizing that, if it weren't for Mundy, she would never see this.
Speak of the devil, Mundy sat next to her, crossing his ankles. Pepper held the heavy camera on her knees, rummaging through her bag. She was looking for a piece of paper, not wanting to capture this moment on film alone.
"How do you like it, Sheila?" he asked, looking at the big stack of papers on Pepper's hand.
"It's beautiful, Mundy." She said, opening the cap of the green pen with her teeth.
Suddenly, Mundy spotted something. The paper stuck out more than the others, and he could clearly read the title scribbled on top in cursive, and with three sharp lines pulled under it. The title was simply, "The Australian".
"Wot's that, then?" he asked politely enough, grabbing the sheet of Paper sticking from the pile, making the pile crumble under Pepper's hands. She immediately recognized the poem she dabbled yesterday. Her face turned white and beet red at the same time.
"It's nothing, give it back!" she reached her hand to grab it, but the marksman held the sheet a few inches further away. He looked at her pained face, grunting as she tried to reach it. He jokingly pushed her away, trying to make out what she scribbled.
Pepper knew. It was an idealized description of what happened yesterday, written in sub-par rhyme. She must've forgotten to throw it away. Mundy didn't take her childish attempts to retrieve it seriously, and instead began reading it out loud.
"Wot's this then, Sheila? "The Australian: A Sonnet of Desire?" Well now, oi have to read this."
"Give it!" she stood up straight, reaching her arm out, trying to reach the elusive paper, only to fail as the already unfairly tall marksman propped himself up on his toes. He put his other hand on her face, lightly pushing her away. He cleared his throat and read the first few lines.
"I don't think you got the rhyming scheme correct, Sheila." He couldn't help but notice that she was getting insulted.
"What? There are variations, you know. Now give it!" her voice turned high pitched and annoyed.
"He grabbed on my wrist tightly, we let the love begin. His lips whispered love lightly, but his eyes shouted sin…"
In what seemed like an epic leap, Pepper snatched the paper from the slim Australian, ripping it up to shreds and hastily stuffed those shreds into her bag. Mundy looked at her red face, his upper lip raised slightly in somewhat of a grin.
"Now wot'd you do that for, Sheila? Oi wanted to see 'ow it ended."
"Look, Mundy…" she took a deep breath through her mouth; "what happened yesterday was amazing. I only wrote about it because I had to..."
"Wait a tick, that wos about yesterday?" he said, now truly mocking her.
"Anyway…" Pepper frowned; "I didn't want anyone to see that, including you. I mean, when something like that happens…" she sat down hopelessly; "…I just want to keep it a secret. Because it won't happen again. So I don't want anyone to know about it."
"Wot makes you think it won't happen again?"
"Mundy, I leave in two days." She sighed. "So, if anyone else knew about me…about you… I would be devastated, you know?"
Mundy sat down next to her, not minding the mud catching on the fabric of his pants. He scooted over to Pepper and grabbed her hand.
"How about you stay here?" he suggested.
Pepper almost choked on some saliva in her mouth. She looked at him with a strange dose of shock and anger. She managed to articulate a sentence, her voice croaked and jittery.
"Here…where?"
"Here…here. In Australia. With me." He looked at her, an uncomfortable frown on his face. Pepper didn't have much of a reaction to that. She didn't shriek with joy, she didn't yell at him, she didn't speak at all. Her head rested on his shoulder for a while, thinking over his proposal.
"Don't you think that was a bit of a cliché?"
"How's that, Sheila?"
"Easy. A small town girl goes to the big city, gets a job in a very shady place, and then she goes to another country. There she meets this knucklehead incapable of emotions until basically the very last day. She teaches him how to feel, he teaches her to act her own freakin' age. And then he asks her to stay with him, as if she would leave everything behind. A cliché among clichés. Isn't it?"
Mundy stretched out his arm around her, looking in the distance.
"Well, they wouldn't call it a cliché if it never 'appened." Pepper was now looking at him, batting her eyes at Mundy.
"You would really consider leaving your loner lifestyle? For a spoilt brat. Seriously?"
"Well, you would have to work on your accent. It irritates me. If I had to sit with a Bostonian other than you and listen to him talk for hours, I would shoot my 'ead off." He shrugged.
"Stop, Mundy, you're making me blush." she rolled her eyes.
"Oi'm just sayin', would you really want to go back to Bee Cave that soon? Or would you return to that shady old brothel in Boston?"
"So I have a choice between you, my family, and my future?"
"You can visit your family, and you have a future here. You can join me. You handle a gun pretty well."
Pepper's skin started to crawl at the thought of the man she shot. She still had terrifying thoughts of that day, but it was getting easier to cope. Australia made her tougher than she was before.
"You think that after thirty years we'll be a couple of old geezers driving in a van, climbing up watch towers and shooting people? That's the only future I see."
"Look, you 'ave toime to think about it…"
"I have one day, Mundy!" she practically screamed. She immediately calmed herself down, leaning on his strong shoulder. She took a deep inhale, smelling the musky scent of his shirt and the earthy notes of the marsh. The crickets still chirped in the background.
"It's a beautiful day, Mundy. Let's just enjoy it for now." she said, grabbing his hand. The Australian lifted her chin up, giving her a soft kiss. Pepper turned her camera off when he began to lick her lips gently with the tip of his tongue, making her shiver. Maybe he will forget about this, she hoped. Maybe come tomorrow, he will come to his senses. She felt the cold ground against her back as she let her lover climb on her, his lips firmly pressed against hers.
Tomorrow came, and Mundy still hadn't changed his mind. But Pepper has.
Day 20:
When Pepper woke up that day, she knew that she wanted to stay with Mundy. It wouldn't be the most convenient thing to do, but it would make her happiest. Boston was just a stepping stone, her film career wouldn't be going anywhere if she couldn't make one bleeding documentary, and she didn't want to sing in Morrison's brothel until she was old and gray. And if she was already singing there, it was just a matter of time before her employer gave her a "promotion"…
But she didn't want to think about this. She would tell Mundy later today. He still had to catch one man on his list, so they were off to the desert again. Pepper was tired of living in fear, and realized that she had to develop a strong stomach if she wanted to be Mundy's companion in his hunting trips across the ruthless Australian outback. So when Mundy invited her to come with him, she was more than willing to bear the initial fear and go with him. He gave her his SMG for protection.
"Oi hope you know how to use it, Sheila."
"Yeah. I think my Nana gave me one of these to play with on her farm in Texas…"
The marksman laughed. Pepper loaded it and stepped outside, feeling better already. Before she left, she grabbed her camera. Just because she won't be returning to Boston to give the film to her professor, doesn't mean she can't capture the look on Mundy's face when he finds out that she's staying.
12:07 p.m.
A typical sight in Australia; two soon-to-be head hunting lovebirds perching in an abandoned shack, peering through the window, their SMG and sniper rifle at the ready. This particular little town was an abandoned Australium miner's town. It was extremely populated during the 1890s, until the Australium supply ran out. The only things left are six small wooden cottages, a phone near the road and sixteen cases of vintage Wankah!, probably turned to dust by now. Ironically, Wankah! probably tasted better in its now dusty form than it did originally.
Mundy phoned his parents again, making up another lie about him being a successful doctor. A surgeon, nothing less. He never had the heart to tell them about his true profession, though he phoned them regularly. Speaking of phoning, strange company contacted him again, this time saying something about "using force". As always, he told them to piss off and stop blocking the line. As every worthy assassin, he had a secret frequency on the radio, connecting him to his current employer. He often gave him the names of people he wanted dead, their characteristics, and their usual hiding places if they knew. It was more than a shock to Mundy as the "company" hacked into the frequency, offering him a job. He shook off the nasty thought of their last message and looked at Pepper.
Pepper was clutching the SMG like a security blanket, her hair falling down her face as she nervously looked outside the broken window, too scared to breathe. Her crocodile tooth necklace hung on her neck, and she was wearing Mundy's black vest, rumored to be bullet proof. He had never been shot before, so the actual function was up to question. The aesthetic appearance was what mattered more to him, and this particular vest looked damn sexy. Even more on Pepper.
"You okay, love?" he asked her. She smiled at him, nodding his head. She couldn't wait to tell him that she was planning on staying. A million thoughts flew through her head. Should she tell him before or after he starts harvesting the victim's teeth? Would she still be in contact with her family after that? She can always phone them. She wouldn't get those lovely letters from Sarah like she used to, which would always bright up her day. But she could always send her letters, and that's still something.
"Hold still, Sheila." He commanded her silently, as they saw a small white car approaching. Pepper hid her head as it parked in front of the pay phone. A young suited man came out, and Pepper immediately knew that it was him. The man walked out of the car, leaving the door open. He walked slowly towards the pay phone. Mundy and Pepper nodded at each other, and in a mere second, a shot was fired, and the man dropped to the ground instantly. Pepper looked out the window carefully.
"Is he dead?" she asked, whispering. The man was motionless, but there was something odd about him.
"Oi… oi suppose." He said, squinting at the body. It didn't look like it was going to walk anytime soon, but it didn't seem quite right.
"Should we…check it out?" asked Pepper, still confused about how easy this was. Mundy signaled her to follow him, and they silently snuck out the old cabin, the old wooden floorboards howling beneath their feet as they made quick, light steps across them.
"I have a bad feeling about this, Mundy." Pepper said, as they were walking towards the body in an abandoned town. The marksman signaled her to come closer, almost welding herself onto him. She held her SMG close to her chest, looking around nervously. By the time the two of them got close to the person they shot, it was clear that something was wrong.
"That isn't blood coming through his skull." Mundy observed the thick black liquid pouring out a hole on his head.
"Then what the hell is it?"
Pepper kneeled over the man, despite Mundy's warning, and touched the man's head. It was cold and lifeless, but not like a dead body. And the smell, the smell of the chilling liquid was extremely familiar, the smell that haunted Pepper when she was a kid, every time she walked into her father's workshop.
"Mundy… this is not a human." She cleaned off the motor oil of her fingers. "It's an imitation humanoid."
Though the sun shined with all of its might, both of them suddenly felt cold. While Pepper was examining the metal skeleton of the humanoid replica, Mundy stepped back and looked around. Whoever made this was onto him. And whoever was onto him…
Mundy screamed as he felt a sharp pain in his neck. He fell to his knees and started wheezing, as he felt a strong substance flowing over his body. His muscles began to stiffen, and a dark shadow went over his eyes. He could hear Pepper calling his name, running over to him. He touched his neck, and felt a long glass tube stuck in it. He pulled at it, and found himself looking at a syringe, half full of strange greenish liquid. The long needle was covered in his blood. When he averted his eyes from it, he saw Pepper, lying unconsciously on the floor. Three large needles were jabbed into her flesh, into her back. She had her hand on her SMG gun, which was now smoking. Mundy didn't hear it fire. In fact, Mundy didn't hear anything. Two men were coming out of the white car, after squatting under the seat. One was holding a large weapon; a transparent cylindrical case filled with syringes. The other was clutching his chest, blood filling up his white lab coat. Mundy attempted to crawl towards the SMG, more and more syringes fired at him. By this time all of his senses went numb. He couldn't hear, he couldn't see, and he could barely breathe. He was inches away from the SMG, grasped by Pepper's lifeless hand. The needle that finished him off was fired at his thigh. A tall blonde man fired it at him, after which he raised his head to laugh victoriously. The last thing that Mundy saw was that his nose was slightly crooked.
Day 21:
The Badlands, New Mexico; 2:02 a.m.
The blonde doctor was walking through a large hallway, his footsteps echoing against the metal walls. He held his head up high, had an angry look on his face, and his right hand was shaking behind his back. About three minutes ago, he finished developing the film he found in the young girl's camera. The young girl was with the man he and his colleague were supposed to recruit, per Helen's order. They were sent south as a punishment for rejecting a former candidate, John, now Jane Doe. They never thought a young girl would be more trouble than this assassin that ran away from them and refused to speak to them. Helen's orders were orders, so they had to take him by force.
The dim light lit the cold path the doctor was walking on. He rubbed his broken nose, not moving his eyes from the small white door at the end of the hallway. He never expected this to be easy. But he never expected that a young girl would cost him his best friend, either.
That little bitch. He found her data in the system; the little hex was arrested once for stealing a bottle of black nail polish. They lifted her prints, but nothing more. Luckily, this was enough for them to find out who she was, where she lived. They found out more about her upon developing the film they found in the camera. No compromising evidence there, the last few images were shot moments before his colleague died. You couldn't see the car's license plate, or their faces. It couldn't compromise them in any way, so the camera and the film were to be sent to the address on the small leather tag. The doctor wasn't sure if the receiver was going to like it.
If found, return to Conagher, Green Lane 6, Bee Cave, Texas.
The girl, on the other hand, was in the infirmary, unconscious. Mundy's actions will determine her fate.
With a small twist, the doctor opened the door. In it was none other than Mundy, the infamous marksman, handcuffed to a chair in a damp room. It was a nauseating olive green, complete with dark hardwood floors. A single white mattress was on the floor, not even covered with a sheet. A dangling lamp was the only source of light, and it lit up Mundy's grim groggy face for one second, before leaving it in darkness again, until it came back. It made a strange, ticking noise as it swung from left to right. The Chamber 219. One of the more eerie rooms in this base.
"Good morning, mister Mundy. I hope you have slept well."
Mundy tried to grab the smug doctor by the throat and break his tiny body in half, but was held back by the set of handcuffs around his wrist. The chair was solid steel, welded to the ground. It looked more like an electric chair than anything else. The doctor didn't laugh at Mundy's despair, as much as he wanted to. He pulled a small metal trash bin closer to him.
"Who…who are you people?"
"We believe that we have explained that in our previous conversations. But, my name is doctor Laszlo. I am personally responsible for recruiting you."
"Where is she?" Mundy growled at the man, speaking in a strong Alaskan accent.
"Don't worry, we didn't hurt her…yet. Is this who you are talking about?" Doctor Laszlo pulled out a small color photo of Pepper. It was taken in Boston, in her workplace. She was in the centre of the photo, kicking her feet high up while dancing on the gray bar counter. She wore a tight red dress, her red hair puffed up high in the air. She was singing, much to the amusement of the male customers, all having other, less charismatic women in their laps. This was the Pepper Mundy saw three weeks ago. He wouldn't have given her a second of his time if she was always like that. But the smile on her face was familiar…those big green eyes sparkling so innocently, even while she performed on the most foul of venues. That was the real Pepper Conagher. That was his Sheila…and this bastard had her.
"Where is she?!" Mundy screamed again.
"My, my… you do have a strange taste in women, Mister Mundy." said Laszlo, examining the picture. "This girl of yours… she was a very bad girl, mister Mundy." he said in an almost perverted tone, walking around the heavily breathing Mundy.
"Do you know this girl shot and killed a member of a secret organization? That is a criminal offence. Punishable by death." Laszlo leaned over to the aggravated Mundy.
"For some reason, my employer found that you would fit well into our little team that we are creating… as a Sniper. But you seemed oh-so-eager to turn us down, didn't you? But, maybe…maybe if you reconsidered joining us… you can greatly chance the girl's…outcome." He leaned over to him, smiling. Mundy stared at him, wanting to break the metal links of the handcuffs.
"Kiss my ass, you fucking wankah." he said, spitting Laszlo in the eye. The doctor moved away, and wiped off the spit from his face, still smiling.
"Oh, Mundy, Mundy…" he chuckled. "I don't think you understand… we have enough evidence and reason to terminate miss Conagher forever."
"It was self defense, you fucking wankah! You put 'er up to it!" he screamed, tugging at the cuff around his hand, and hopelessly reaching his other arm towards the doctor. But his other arm was weak from all the neurotoxins flowing through his system.
"I am afraid that you are incorrect. You shot our little robot friend first, remember?" Laszlo pulled out a lighter and held it close to the picture.
"How about this, mister Mundy? If you join our little family, we'll forget that this ever happened. We send the girl to Boston, where she lives an alright, though slightly whorish, life. Your contract expires in a year or so, and then you can get reunited with her. That is…if you comply…"
Mundy listened to the doctor, not believing that this is actually happening.
"And if oi refuse?"
"You walk home a free man… The girl, however…"
Doctor Laszlo flipped the lighter. Soon, the hot orange flames engulfed the edges of the picture. The sides began to burn, leaving dark, papery traces of what once was a color picture. They soon began to expand to the girl's body, engulfing her red dress. The flames began to go higher, reaching over Pepper, her face the only thing not engulfed by the flames. Laszlo threw the picture in the garbage can, and the fire burst out like a volcano, leaving Mundy to sweat. He almost screamed at the thought of something happening to Pepper.
"You're a monster." Mundy managed.
"You turned me into one when your friend killed my colleague. Now, Mundy… you have two choices. Save the girl and work here, or leave us, and have that on your mind forever." He pointed at the flames quieting down. Mundy was angry at the man. But if what he said was true…
"If oi join you… she will be safe?"
"Completely, mister Mundy." Laszlo took out a document and a pen.
"Please sign on the dotted line, Sir. If you can't in your drugged condition, sign with an X."
Boston, Massachusetts; 8:02 a.m.
When Pepper woke up that day, she knew that she wanted to stay with Mundy. It wouldn't be the most convenient thing to do, but it would make her happiest. Boston was just a stepping stone, her film career wouldn't be going anywhere if she couldn't make one bleeding documentary, and she didn't want to sing in Morrison's brothel until she was old and gray. And if she was already singing there, it was just a matter of time before her employer gave her a "promotion"…
But something was wrong. She wasn't in a van. She was in her tiny apartment in Boston. She saw the mould on the walls, and looked at the cracked ceiling. She looked around her apartment, looking at her black matte suitcase. It was full of her clothes, the same ones she wore to Australia. She scratched her head, blinking heavily. As she touched the crocodile tooth dangling on her neck, she had a strange sense of déjà vu.
"Mundy?" she called, but nobody answered back.
She must've decided to return to Boston after all. Maybe her decision to stay with Mundy was all a dream. She scratched her arm. It hurt her like hell, and she felt three small holes on the surface.
"Mosquitoes." She concluded and stood up from her springy bed. Everything was there. She really was in Australia. It has been a magical time, indeed. But she was puzzled; how couldn't she remember a thing that happened yesterday. At least she got it on film.
Film…
In a rush of panic, Pepper flipped over her suitcase, tossing out all of her clothes. She rummaged through the shorts, shirts and corsets, flipping them around. She ran and opened all the closets one by one. She felt around her bed, and even rummaged through the bathroom and small kitchen. It can't be… it can't be. She clutched her head and fell to her knees.
"I've lost my camera!" she screamed, pulling her hair. She burst out crying promptly when an old cranky neighbor told her to "shut da fuck up". All of those memories…gone. All that hard work… she bit her knuckle as her hot tears dripped on the cold floor.
Bee Cave, Texas; 7:07 a.m.
Irene waved goodbye to Dell as he walked away ten minutes ago, to the car leading him to New Mexico. She finally got off the phone after talking to Aunt Millie, and convincing her that Dell wasn't dead. Sarah went to school already, and Irene was relaxing with a hot cup of coffee. For the first time, there was no tension in the house. This job will be good for Dell, she knew it.
Suddenly, she heard a doorbell ring. It was none other than the mailman, with a special delivery. It was a camera and a developed film sent by Pepper.
"I don't understand. I thought she needed this." She squinted at the film, which she was dying to watch.
"Maybe she wanted you to see it." The mailman shrugged.
Irene thanked him, and rushed to the living room. Or rather, the movie projector. Pepper was just supposed to come back to Boston today. Why was she sending her this? Maybe it's because she was done early and wanted to show her the movie. Bless her heart. Irene started the projector, hurting her thumb in the process. She sat on the sofa and started watching the movie.
"I can't wait to show this to Sarah. She's going to be so happy to see her sister."
Bee Cave, Texas; 8:41 a.m.
"What kind of sick movie is this?"
Irene has been watching the movie for what seemed like a lifetime. In all her life she never watched the movie so terrible. It was full of violence, dirty jokes and allusions that Pepper is a common whore. Is this even a documentary? What is this, an art film?
The Australian she interviewed was particularly disgusting. He urinated in jars, never bathed and done illegal actions for a living. Her poor, poor daughter. How could she be pole dancing in diners? How could she film people getting brutally murdered? She held her stomach closely, feeling sick the whole time. There was nothing good about this movie. Nothing, in a million years. Irene held her head, and was now getting a migraine.
Her daughter was now fighting with the man for some reason, something about not kissing her. Irene laughed. This was definitely a comedy. A satire, most likely. This couldn't have been a documentary. But something was odd about this angle of filming. She put the camera on the table, got on the sofa and started exclaiming that she was bored. She stayed like that for two minutes or something, not paying attention to it. Even when the man came in, she still turned away from it facing the wall. At one point, the man came up to her. They were now definitely fighting.
"You don't have to plan every moment and calculate every possible outcome. Be spontaneous, like I am! You're not on the job now. Relax, damn it!"
"Wot in bloody hell do you want me to do, Sheila?"
"This!"
And with that, her beautiful daughter kissed this awful, disgusting creature. Irene felt nauseous. And it was all so…real. Like everything she feared came true in about twenty seconds. She averted her eyes. There is no way that this was real, no possible way in hell.
And then, horror.
"Was that too much?"
"It wasn't enough."
Irene saw it. Irene saw the brutal, disgusting image. The whole thing, the entire fifteen minutes of it. She threw up at one point and started crying. After it, they discussed what had just happened. Irene didn't want to listen to it. Not her, not her beautiful baby. She paid no attention to what just happened. Her heart almost stopped when the naked man jumped over her daughter. She muttered something about filming and picked up the camera, turning it off.
She turned it off then.
Is this what Pepper wanted to show? This disgusting snuff film? Irene was angry, sweating. She clenched her fists. She ran to the large metal projector, and flipped it to the ground. It hissed in protest. It was gone. The foul image was gone, but Irene would never forget it. She grabbed the wall, wheezing. She walked to the kitchen, searching through the drawers. She found the number of the company Dell was hired in. She dialed the number with her shaky hands.
"Y'ello?" he finally answered.
"Dell?" she asked nervously.
"Irene? What's going on?"
"I just wanted to tell you…" she gulped; "Pepper isn't coming home."
"What? Why?" he asked, and Irene thought it was best to keep it simple.
"I won't let her." The phone line went dead. Irene broke down and cried, ignoring the ringing phone. She cried until Sarah came home. She then ran to the bathroom and cried some more. Her baby… her beautiful baby…
Will never be a part of their family again.
Badlands, New Mexico; 9:01 a.m.
Mundy was sitting in the resupply room, cleaning one of his jars with a small rag. A young man sat next to him, after he talked on the phone with his mom. Frankly, Mundy didn't want him there next to him, but he couldn't exactly concentrate on anything. He only thought about this job. If it was the only way to keep Pepper safe, he would work for the bastards gladly. The man near him became more and more nervous as time passed by.
"What are we waiting for, anyway?" he asked.
"You'll see... momma's boy." Mundy grinned. He needed a reason to grin at something more that anything today.
A suited man smoking a cigarette left the resupply room soon after the Announcer announced that the mission will begin in 60 seconds. This turned out to be a test, which annoyed the young man.
"Yo, man, how long are we supposed ta wait here, anyway?" he yelped. Mundy ignored him. The man continued to yelp in his annoying Bostonian accent.
"Yo! Kangaroo guy, I'm tawkin to you!"
Mundy turned to him.
"How'd you know oi was Australian?" he asked half heartedly.
"I can tell nationalities. It's just one of my many talents." Said the man, crossing his arms behind his back.
"Alroight, kid."
The man stared at him.
"What, you don't believe me? I bet you five bucks I can tell who everyone is around here!"
"I doubt it."
"Oh, it's on!"
Mundy groaned. He didn't want it to be "on".
"Foine then…" he sighed, leaving his now impeccably clean jar.
"That guy oveh there is Texan." He pointed at a man wearing a hardhat, tuning his guitar.
"How do you know?"
" I just do. Hey, you!" the young man yelped at the supposed Texan.
"Yeah?"
"You's Texan, right?"
The man was baffled by this question. "Yes?"
"Told ya's I could tell nationalities. I could since I was five."
"Oi stand corrected, momma's boy." Teased Mundy while picking at his stubble.
"What, you don't believe me? What about that guy?" he pointed at a black man, drowning his sorrows in a bottle of Scrumpy.
"Scottish." They both said in unison, as soon as they looked at the drunkie.
"…and that guy is German. Now tell me I don't have a gift!" the young man yelped at the older man holding a sniper rifle.
"Bloody hell, mate, even I could tell that 'e's German." Mundy seemed irritated. The boy looked for other, more challenging guys.
"Okay den." The wall opened up, and a suited man came in the room again, holding a lit cigarette.
"Yo!" the obnoxious man screamed. "You is French, right? I could smell your cheese cologne from the hall!"
The suited man rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically.
"...non, I am a belly dancer from Barbados."
"Ey, quit your bullshittin'!" the boy commanded. He suddenly looked at an obese man who had just walked into the room, the door shutting behind him. He was looking around the room, already dissapointed in his teammates.
"You, you is Russian, right?" he asked, tapping his feet against the floor. Heavy nodded.
"See? See? I told yas I could tell nationalities! I told yas!" he irritated the marksman sitting next to him, adjusting his fingerless gloves.
"Alroite, you win, momma's boy. You have a gift. Now piss off."
"Don't call me momma's boy, brah! Think of a better insult!" Mundy sighed.
"Roite then. Piss off, wanker." The boy went silent for a second or so.
"That's bettah... I guess."
Slightly irritated that he already lost a bet, he walked up to a man wearing a hard hat on the other side of the room. He was desperately trying to reach someone on the other end of the phone.
"Marital problems?" Mundy asked.
"Kind of." sighed the shorter man. "My wife is angry at my daughter or something."
Mundy didn't really want to talk to this man either, but it was either him or the kid.
"Daughter, huh?"
"Yep. She wasn't home for over a year. And my wife found today to get mad about something. Eh. She'll come around."
"Over a year, huh?"
"Yep. Goin' to film school. Aw, shucks, I miss her like hell." He pulled out a small letter tucked in the pocket of his overalls. "I keep this in case I get homesick. Turns out I'll be needing it sooner than I thought."
He opened the folded letter. Mundy looked at it and almost fainted. It was cursive. And written in green pen. His face turned completely white. Only one person knew how to write that well.
"You alright, boy? You seem pale."
"Oi… oi'm foine." he said, slowly retreating to the other side. He sat next to the Bostonian. Pepper was in trouble, somehow. And a strange, guilty feeling told him that it was his fault.
"Yo, what took ya so long, slim?" the kid yelped again. This time he really ignored him.
And, suddenly, Victor Mundy had a moment of pure clearance. It was the film. It was about the film.
Oi'm sorry, Sheila.