Left side of life.
I wanted for so long to write Elle-story, then in Kill Bill volume 2 Budd, the greatest bastard, ever created in a movie history, coming in seconds path from point A: angel (regretting scene) to B: bastard himself, appeared and spread his wings. By all means, this is a story about Elle Driver, my vision of her and her vision of swords, Beatrix, Bill and... Budd. Lol
They say it belongs to a devil. Right side is behind God, left side – behind devil. Heart is on the left, soul is somewhere in the middle. So what, holly people, do you still wanna listen to the call of heart, or finally will think about consequences? Possibly, we are sold to the devil for eternal use. Without fail, without fail demand a cardiogram from Saint Peter. If you ever get there, as in one very nice song it is sung.
However, Elle sold out long before her life became left in all meanings of this word. Correspondingly, to adapt herself, she was forced to refuse from a great deal. Like a housewife in spring, she got rid of many old things she felt she would never need again. Got rid from many tangible human features along with her right eye, although someone's tongue would doubtfully turn to say Elle was a sweetheart before the incident.
She has artificial limb on her right middle finger, because the upper phalanx along with the nail is absent. She has mannish, inelegant, disproportional body, like a gymnast who was stretched longwise. She has swinging, resolute step and small breasts. Along with the pervious factor, watching her from behind some think she is... Nah, not a guy – not very conscientious and well turned she-male. She doesn't hurry to argue them out and often wears "femaled" male costumes. She suffers from a bit weird as for a hired assassin disease – agoraphobia. Although in most cases it doesn't affect the work. The main thing is to track down, come and nail down. There's no need in wide spaces. And generally speaking, person who's hands are elbows deep in blood, has phobias on the background.
But she has absolutely extraordinary, indescribable left blue eye. It is lonely on her face and because of it its light seems to be even more brighter and expressive. It shines from inside with explosive mix of hate, mockery and rage, always, no matter who is it looking at.
Of course, Bill is an exception from the general rule.
Vernita says: "I won't go alone with this bitch anywhere. Without safety net. Because who the hell knows what's going on there, between bandage and goddamn left headlight. Unstable bitch."
O-Ren disagrees. Eastern wisdom on her freckled not very Eastern face looks to the root. As for stability, Elle is one order higher, then others – hate from day to day, defiance, aggression, absence of old principles and lack of desire to get new ones. Nothing changes, everything stays as it was.
Vernita, and O-Ren, and Budd – especially Budd – know indeed, why Bill needed Elle and why did he take her into the vagrant group of divas. DiVAS – Deadly Venom American Snakes. She looked too much alike Beatrix, and men, naturally, are doomed to step on the same rake over and over again. B was milder in all means, though, but since she disappeared, Bill, like a helpless and useless junkie, needed a substitute promptly.
From unchecked information he outbid the beauty with killing gaze from caring hands of Gregory Parker, a person, who Bill would never call even "competitor", but he knew his business damn well. He got a credit from future employs and opened splendid bar with chicks, called mysteriously "DD". Only victims, overstepping the threshold, were doubtfully interested in monogram enciphering game. In vain – someone could save his precious ass.
Girls, of course, were not just dancing. To be exact, they weren't simply dancing. They danced with outlook, worked for outlook. And then killed pointed out clients by all possible ways. Elle specialized in fire weapon of any caliber and degree of defeat. There was no way to save oneself from her bullets.
Bill probably visited dorky Greg, probably studied Elle on the scene with the fault-finding of gynecologist or butcher, or both , probably ordered a private dance to find ten distinctions form Beatrix. And probably he found less then ten, because in a month at a fabulous price – fabulous, but not comparing to the price of Hatori Hanzo sword – he bought a new woman for himself.
He thought he could quite deal with her temper, if not – then to become reconciled with it – bitchy killer is the best killer who does best job. Pai Mei, who Elle visited, following the steps of lost Beatrix, didn't share his thoughts. Women in general were not an authority for an old man, and women, who needed to wash their mouths with soap bad – even more so. It's need to be said, he found reciprocity at this point.
That's why Elle lost her right eye.
Be rude with the one and only keeper of the most deadly kick secret – is not the best idea, however, completely in the Elle's manner. Pai Mei stretched his arm and with the accuracy of the surgeon ripped organ of vision without affecting the nerves of the second one, tissues and so on. Like the eye was never inside the skull. Never supposed to be.
Well, not that Elle was very upset, just... Pai Mei somehow suddenly and stupidly died there, in mountains. Body was found only in couple of years, because he never welcomed guests up there, and then it was already pretty late to make conclusions.
Elle has already made them for herself, anyway.
She was still rocking on the chair. Pretty dangerous way to kill time. Legs atop a table pushed off slightly, and chair tilted back. Then – in normal position. And again, again, again... Choosing the wrong force of next push, she could cause a big boom, fraught with bruises, broken teeth and fractures even, but her movements were pendulum-like, each one – with surprisingly equal amplitude. Mirrored from the shining blade, sun danced on the pale skin of her face as she rocked.
It affected her pretty much. Bill had Hatori Hanzo sword – it's quite understandable, Budd had one – he was the single younger brother, lover of beer and unbearable vulgar person. Beer already made him look slightly... exaggerated, but it was even better, from the other hand – nobody could see death behind such a dork in cowboy hat. In vain, by the way. Budd still was a rare rotter and moreover a good professional. O-Ren had Hatori Hanzo sword, but O-Ren, half-Japanese, first and the only one yakudza-woman, so Bill doubtfully related to such replenishment in her arsenal. Rather she herself found a "special" approach to Hatori. But Bill presented the blade to Beatrix with his own hands, and this made usually deadly calm Elle burning white.
Who was now Bill's first lady? Who now, speaking about it, deserved (at her personal opinion – more, then just "deserved") a gift of this kind? Japanese steel cut not only hairspring in the air, but the small piece of dust, like an orange, on four equal pieces. Japanese steel – deadly as dragon's breathing, as old master's unsatisfied silence. Japanese steel was more dangerous than atom bomb in the hands of a clumsy person, because each movement, each one brought death or horrible injuries. And Elle – before leaving Pai Mei – nevertheless was taught the skill to hold a sword in her hand. So if she only had such a shiny thingie... Let's just say, she could work easier, faster, more effectively.
Bill would be pleased.
And knocked goddamn Beatrix out of his head.
She rocked on the chair in Bill's mansion in Mexico. That's the way he existed: lived here, worked in US and "went shopping" in Japan. Probably because of that his name was still unknown for press and police, although his girls destroyed in general the population of middle-sized city. No less.
Budd pushed glass door sharply to the side, freezing in his natural pose – with the bottle of beer in his hand. Budd not really loved his older brother with Christian brotherly love. He worshiped him, like an icon, although in the moments of "production disagreements" he had nothing against the perspective, hazy, but still – to kick Bill's ass. Like from an icon, he blew away the dust, worried too much, was afraid to half-death like all the others and (advantage of blood ties only) was sort of... jealous. When God turns face from you to watch another blonde, it's sad. Isn't it?
If only Elle worried gave a shit about Budd's feelings...
"To my brother Budd, the only person I ever loved". Silver letters of engraving on the sword-hilt danced rumba atop her cheek. Let's permit, she didn't like a hell a lot of things in Budd, too. Take this word – "ever" – as an example. From the other hand, it also meant, that Beatrix, who Elle saw only on many pictures – a young girl with a sweet smile and a woman with empty eyes – was also rejected, which made their positions equal at some point.
Isn't it stupid to hate possibly dead woman with a nickname "Black Mamba"? Elle supposed it was quite acceptably. As for Budd, the whole deal was not only in engraving. Well, take this...
"Hey, mop, take your dirty claws away my sword..."
Yes, this. Exactly. Mop. Barbie. Scrawny Ass. Bitch. Whore... A really long list to put it there.
It's extremely stupid to be impudent with a person, who is considered as "very much insane", when you have only a beer bottle as a weapon, and she has Hatori Hanzo still, even if it's actually yours.
She would never dare to touch Bill's sword. He never left it, and any sacrilege towards it meant the end of relationship. O-Ren could also take the hands of "big-eyed one" on the handle of hers as a spit on the icon. And Budd... He doubtfully knew the meaning of the word "icon". He acknowledged only such values as striptease and beer. And blood: bloodshed, blood ties and blah.
Easy death – easy by all means – was too captivating.
"Come and take it, Budd. If, of course, you're not comfortable with given order of things..." - she mocked his intonation and breathed out tobacco smoke in his direction.
"I'm, of course, not comfortable with given order of things", he agreed, making step into the room.
And not only this in the given moment. Elle suspected, Budd was not comfortable with many things. Only silly women around, for example. Bill liked to say, that only woman is capable to show real aggression without turning back and absolutely pure, unadulterated hate. Plus, aesthetics, my friends, aesthetics. And Budd – he only worked for family business. Vernita sometimes joined him for a drink and O-Ren – ignored with a high hand. Budd hated his position, especially when one of the DiVAS started to make orders and show her temper. Act like Elle, in other words. Digging deeper, Budd was absolutely not comfortable with blondes. Even in strip bar he always ordered dark-haired dancers – she already managed to notice appropriateness in that, although Snakes rarely gathered in one public place in one time. People must not notice appropriateness, on contrary. Beatrix was a blonde, and she span Bill around her finger the way she wanted as no one before. She just slightly made him to deviate from his trajectory, but for such person as Bill it was exactly the thing which is called "spin around the finger". Elle appeared on the scene already after Beatrix disappeared, so she knew only gossip and tales, but she believed.
Elle couldn't spin Bill around her finger.
But in Budd's eyes there was bold "equal" sign between her and Beatrix. Exactly this one "equal", not the second one, which stood before "stupid blonde" (or "just another stupid blonde" if he was in extremely bad mood), made Elle's fake finger and empty eye-socket ache as if the weather was changing – an accurate sign of increasing stress.
And Budd... It looked like he had massive inferiority complex, which he deftly, but not professionally enough masked as "I-don't-give-a-shit" altitude.
Elle's fingers squeezed handle a bit harder. Budd took another sip of beer.
"Don't make me angry, Barbie", - he said.
Elle was sure she didn't have precious for Budd blood ties with Caesar. But she dropped her legs on the floor, threw cigar-butt away and uncovered the sword. It looked like one single motion form aside, and in reality – the chain of movements, following one another too fast. Animation. Animation of death in the case of Elle Driver.
She continued to sit on the chair, leaning back, but she directed the blade, like a pointing finger, at Budd's direction. In his eyes it was exactly the case when woman, blonde woman (three exclamation marks) tries to play you like macho plays his guitar.
He spitted crossly and slammed the bottle against the table. Animation didn't happen this time, but the half of the bottle, which stayed in his hand, was sharp enough. It was sorry to spend even those three sips of beer on this bitch Elle. They leaked out on his jeans and on the floor.
Did he really think she never considered the possibility to kill him? Did he think blood ties will come into play? Yes, but then, later, when Elle- bitch is turned off. Now Budd was only an insect, irritant, who should be crushed without hesitation and regret.
She just wanted to own Hatori Hanzo's sword very much. Desire transforms into mania sooner or later, and "mania" and "maniac" look and sound too much alike, don't they?
Exactly.
Jealousy and ass-attitude of Budd versus desire to own and rage of Elle. The fight threatened to take place right here, in this broad room with table and couple of chairs as the only furniture. Latitude and emptiness were the features of every room of this house. Each room was a battlefield in perspective.
Empty eye-socket was covered with bandage. Usually it's black and hard, almost like a half of sunglasses, sometimes – rag and thin, picked to match the colors of closing. In any case, Elle preferred black. When only one devilish eye has left, it has to take a double dose of emotions, and its gaze from under the straw fringe, was always far from just expressive.
Sometimes people started to cry. Not Budd. It was another thing, with which he wasn't comfortable in order of things. He threw himself forward, aiming right at Elle's Adam's apple with bottle greenish jaws. She reflected the strike, and green hail illuminated her face. Seemed like some sharp little pieces, almost dust, got into her eye. The image before her flowed little to the left, little to the right, but Budd in his dorky red t-shirt was a visible figure, anyway... only glimmering a bit at the contours. He stepped back and pushed the table with all his power, which still was impressive in his relief muscles, although the skin atop them started to turn into jelly. Before she could stop to analyze the measure of damage to her vision, she was affixed to the floor. The reddish blue print of the table rib on her body will stay for months...
Elle roared and pushed the table away. It scattered in the air, turning into sawdust, like a bad school article. Budd dropped down, and sword's blade pierced the wall above him, which gave a couple of seconds for maneuver. He grabbed her legs and jerked.
Tailbone suffered the most, but, which was more important, Japanese steel stayed in the wall up there. Budd pulled it out and put to her Adam's apple. If she only coughed now...
"I'm glad you two get along..."
Budd turned his head to the voice, sticking the blade into the floor, like a damn cane. It was Bill. Imperturbable, the person, who they both adored and were afraid of, each – in their own way, which more – depended on situation.
"Just wanted to invite you into dining room," - Bill added.
Elle ripped herself away from the hypnotic rapture of Bill's voice and hit Budd's precious place. It was doubtfully that precious, really, but the moment when all his attention was attached to Bill, was a perfection itself. Just a pity, the kick resulted to be a diagonal one. Front kick promises castration in a lucky case, but there was no place for choices and "balls' strategy".
He yelped and fell onto his ass, which, probably, doubled the pleasure from close communication with Elle Driver. Bill only shrugged.
"And Budd... I need to have a conversation with you, so..." – he stretched an arm to his brother.
Budd wanted some ice, not business conversations more than everything. But, without turning back, he hobbled after Bill, leaving Elle, uncombed, but satisfied (fight is like sex, only your partner dies more often and gets less pleasure) to lay on the floor. She pushed herself up on her elbows, considering, how many bones could be broken, sticking into Budd's back with her left eye. She kind of plunged an invisible dart between his shoulder blades, and he was still moving away, moving away. For the first time in her life she experienced a short moment of disappointment with Bill's appearance. Maybe she wouldn't nail the dork down, but she would hurt him bad for sure.
"Nevertheless one day," – she muttered, shaking the "femaled" jacket off from the sawdust, "I will destroy you."
Elle Driver made promises rarely, but always kept them. Another rule of the left side of life.
I wanted for so long to write Elle-story, then in Kill Bill volume 2 Budd, the greatest bastard, ever created in a movie history, coming in seconds path from point A: angel (regretting scene) to B: bastard himself, appeared and spread his wings. By all means, this is a story about Elle Driver, my vision of her and her vision of swords, Beatrix, Bill and... Budd. Lol
They say it belongs to a devil. Right side is behind God, left side – behind devil. Heart is on the left, soul is somewhere in the middle. So what, holly people, do you still wanna listen to the call of heart, or finally will think about consequences? Possibly, we are sold to the devil for eternal use. Without fail, without fail demand a cardiogram from Saint Peter. If you ever get there, as in one very nice song it is sung.
However, Elle sold out long before her life became left in all meanings of this word. Correspondingly, to adapt herself, she was forced to refuse from a great deal. Like a housewife in spring, she got rid of many old things she felt she would never need again. Got rid from many tangible human features along with her right eye, although someone's tongue would doubtfully turn to say Elle was a sweetheart before the incident.
She has artificial limb on her right middle finger, because the upper phalanx along with the nail is absent. She has mannish, inelegant, disproportional body, like a gymnast who was stretched longwise. She has swinging, resolute step and small breasts. Along with the pervious factor, watching her from behind some think she is... Nah, not a guy – not very conscientious and well turned she-male. She doesn't hurry to argue them out and often wears "femaled" male costumes. She suffers from a bit weird as for a hired assassin disease – agoraphobia. Although in most cases it doesn't affect the work. The main thing is to track down, come and nail down. There's no need in wide spaces. And generally speaking, person who's hands are elbows deep in blood, has phobias on the background.
But she has absolutely extraordinary, indescribable left blue eye. It is lonely on her face and because of it its light seems to be even more brighter and expressive. It shines from inside with explosive mix of hate, mockery and rage, always, no matter who is it looking at.
Of course, Bill is an exception from the general rule.
Vernita says: "I won't go alone with this bitch anywhere. Without safety net. Because who the hell knows what's going on there, between bandage and goddamn left headlight. Unstable bitch."
O-Ren disagrees. Eastern wisdom on her freckled not very Eastern face looks to the root. As for stability, Elle is one order higher, then others – hate from day to day, defiance, aggression, absence of old principles and lack of desire to get new ones. Nothing changes, everything stays as it was.
Vernita, and O-Ren, and Budd – especially Budd – know indeed, why Bill needed Elle and why did he take her into the vagrant group of divas. DiVAS – Deadly Venom American Snakes. She looked too much alike Beatrix, and men, naturally, are doomed to step on the same rake over and over again. B was milder in all means, though, but since she disappeared, Bill, like a helpless and useless junkie, needed a substitute promptly.
From unchecked information he outbid the beauty with killing gaze from caring hands of Gregory Parker, a person, who Bill would never call even "competitor", but he knew his business damn well. He got a credit from future employs and opened splendid bar with chicks, called mysteriously "DD". Only victims, overstepping the threshold, were doubtfully interested in monogram enciphering game. In vain – someone could save his precious ass.
Girls, of course, were not just dancing. To be exact, they weren't simply dancing. They danced with outlook, worked for outlook. And then killed pointed out clients by all possible ways. Elle specialized in fire weapon of any caliber and degree of defeat. There was no way to save oneself from her bullets.
Bill probably visited dorky Greg, probably studied Elle on the scene with the fault-finding of gynecologist or butcher, or both , probably ordered a private dance to find ten distinctions form Beatrix. And probably he found less then ten, because in a month at a fabulous price – fabulous, but not comparing to the price of Hatori Hanzo sword – he bought a new woman for himself.
He thought he could quite deal with her temper, if not – then to become reconciled with it – bitchy killer is the best killer who does best job. Pai Mei, who Elle visited, following the steps of lost Beatrix, didn't share his thoughts. Women in general were not an authority for an old man, and women, who needed to wash their mouths with soap bad – even more so. It's need to be said, he found reciprocity at this point.
That's why Elle lost her right eye.
Be rude with the one and only keeper of the most deadly kick secret – is not the best idea, however, completely in the Elle's manner. Pai Mei stretched his arm and with the accuracy of the surgeon ripped organ of vision without affecting the nerves of the second one, tissues and so on. Like the eye was never inside the skull. Never supposed to be.
Well, not that Elle was very upset, just... Pai Mei somehow suddenly and stupidly died there, in mountains. Body was found only in couple of years, because he never welcomed guests up there, and then it was already pretty late to make conclusions.
Elle has already made them for herself, anyway.
She was still rocking on the chair. Pretty dangerous way to kill time. Legs atop a table pushed off slightly, and chair tilted back. Then – in normal position. And again, again, again... Choosing the wrong force of next push, she could cause a big boom, fraught with bruises, broken teeth and fractures even, but her movements were pendulum-like, each one – with surprisingly equal amplitude. Mirrored from the shining blade, sun danced on the pale skin of her face as she rocked.
It affected her pretty much. Bill had Hatori Hanzo sword – it's quite understandable, Budd had one – he was the single younger brother, lover of beer and unbearable vulgar person. Beer already made him look slightly... exaggerated, but it was even better, from the other hand – nobody could see death behind such a dork in cowboy hat. In vain, by the way. Budd still was a rare rotter and moreover a good professional. O-Ren had Hatori Hanzo sword, but O-Ren, half-Japanese, first and the only one yakudza-woman, so Bill doubtfully related to such replenishment in her arsenal. Rather she herself found a "special" approach to Hatori. But Bill presented the blade to Beatrix with his own hands, and this made usually deadly calm Elle burning white.
Who was now Bill's first lady? Who now, speaking about it, deserved (at her personal opinion – more, then just "deserved") a gift of this kind? Japanese steel cut not only hairspring in the air, but the small piece of dust, like an orange, on four equal pieces. Japanese steel – deadly as dragon's breathing, as old master's unsatisfied silence. Japanese steel was more dangerous than atom bomb in the hands of a clumsy person, because each movement, each one brought death or horrible injuries. And Elle – before leaving Pai Mei – nevertheless was taught the skill to hold a sword in her hand. So if she only had such a shiny thingie... Let's just say, she could work easier, faster, more effectively.
Bill would be pleased.
And knocked goddamn Beatrix out of his head.
She rocked on the chair in Bill's mansion in Mexico. That's the way he existed: lived here, worked in US and "went shopping" in Japan. Probably because of that his name was still unknown for press and police, although his girls destroyed in general the population of middle-sized city. No less.
Budd pushed glass door sharply to the side, freezing in his natural pose – with the bottle of beer in his hand. Budd not really loved his older brother with Christian brotherly love. He worshiped him, like an icon, although in the moments of "production disagreements" he had nothing against the perspective, hazy, but still – to kick Bill's ass. Like from an icon, he blew away the dust, worried too much, was afraid to half-death like all the others and (advantage of blood ties only) was sort of... jealous. When God turns face from you to watch another blonde, it's sad. Isn't it?
If only Elle worried gave a shit about Budd's feelings...
"To my brother Budd, the only person I ever loved". Silver letters of engraving on the sword-hilt danced rumba atop her cheek. Let's permit, she didn't like a hell a lot of things in Budd, too. Take this word – "ever" – as an example. From the other hand, it also meant, that Beatrix, who Elle saw only on many pictures – a young girl with a sweet smile and a woman with empty eyes – was also rejected, which made their positions equal at some point.
Isn't it stupid to hate possibly dead woman with a nickname "Black Mamba"? Elle supposed it was quite acceptably. As for Budd, the whole deal was not only in engraving. Well, take this...
"Hey, mop, take your dirty claws away my sword..."
Yes, this. Exactly. Mop. Barbie. Scrawny Ass. Bitch. Whore... A really long list to put it there.
It's extremely stupid to be impudent with a person, who is considered as "very much insane", when you have only a beer bottle as a weapon, and she has Hatori Hanzo still, even if it's actually yours.
She would never dare to touch Bill's sword. He never left it, and any sacrilege towards it meant the end of relationship. O-Ren could also take the hands of "big-eyed one" on the handle of hers as a spit on the icon. And Budd... He doubtfully knew the meaning of the word "icon". He acknowledged only such values as striptease and beer. And blood: bloodshed, blood ties and blah.
Easy death – easy by all means – was too captivating.
"Come and take it, Budd. If, of course, you're not comfortable with given order of things..." - she mocked his intonation and breathed out tobacco smoke in his direction.
"I'm, of course, not comfortable with given order of things", he agreed, making step into the room.
And not only this in the given moment. Elle suspected, Budd was not comfortable with many things. Only silly women around, for example. Bill liked to say, that only woman is capable to show real aggression without turning back and absolutely pure, unadulterated hate. Plus, aesthetics, my friends, aesthetics. And Budd – he only worked for family business. Vernita sometimes joined him for a drink and O-Ren – ignored with a high hand. Budd hated his position, especially when one of the DiVAS started to make orders and show her temper. Act like Elle, in other words. Digging deeper, Budd was absolutely not comfortable with blondes. Even in strip bar he always ordered dark-haired dancers – she already managed to notice appropriateness in that, although Snakes rarely gathered in one public place in one time. People must not notice appropriateness, on contrary. Beatrix was a blonde, and she span Bill around her finger the way she wanted as no one before. She just slightly made him to deviate from his trajectory, but for such person as Bill it was exactly the thing which is called "spin around the finger". Elle appeared on the scene already after Beatrix disappeared, so she knew only gossip and tales, but she believed.
Elle couldn't spin Bill around her finger.
But in Budd's eyes there was bold "equal" sign between her and Beatrix. Exactly this one "equal", not the second one, which stood before "stupid blonde" (or "just another stupid blonde" if he was in extremely bad mood), made Elle's fake finger and empty eye-socket ache as if the weather was changing – an accurate sign of increasing stress.
And Budd... It looked like he had massive inferiority complex, which he deftly, but not professionally enough masked as "I-don't-give-a-shit" altitude.
Elle's fingers squeezed handle a bit harder. Budd took another sip of beer.
"Don't make me angry, Barbie", - he said.
Elle was sure she didn't have precious for Budd blood ties with Caesar. But she dropped her legs on the floor, threw cigar-butt away and uncovered the sword. It looked like one single motion form aside, and in reality – the chain of movements, following one another too fast. Animation. Animation of death in the case of Elle Driver.
She continued to sit on the chair, leaning back, but she directed the blade, like a pointing finger, at Budd's direction. In his eyes it was exactly the case when woman, blonde woman (three exclamation marks) tries to play you like macho plays his guitar.
He spitted crossly and slammed the bottle against the table. Animation didn't happen this time, but the half of the bottle, which stayed in his hand, was sharp enough. It was sorry to spend even those three sips of beer on this bitch Elle. They leaked out on his jeans and on the floor.
Did he really think she never considered the possibility to kill him? Did he think blood ties will come into play? Yes, but then, later, when Elle- bitch is turned off. Now Budd was only an insect, irritant, who should be crushed without hesitation and regret.
She just wanted to own Hatori Hanzo's sword very much. Desire transforms into mania sooner or later, and "mania" and "maniac" look and sound too much alike, don't they?
Exactly.
Jealousy and ass-attitude of Budd versus desire to own and rage of Elle. The fight threatened to take place right here, in this broad room with table and couple of chairs as the only furniture. Latitude and emptiness were the features of every room of this house. Each room was a battlefield in perspective.
Empty eye-socket was covered with bandage. Usually it's black and hard, almost like a half of sunglasses, sometimes – rag and thin, picked to match the colors of closing. In any case, Elle preferred black. When only one devilish eye has left, it has to take a double dose of emotions, and its gaze from under the straw fringe, was always far from just expressive.
Sometimes people started to cry. Not Budd. It was another thing, with which he wasn't comfortable in order of things. He threw himself forward, aiming right at Elle's Adam's apple with bottle greenish jaws. She reflected the strike, and green hail illuminated her face. Seemed like some sharp little pieces, almost dust, got into her eye. The image before her flowed little to the left, little to the right, but Budd in his dorky red t-shirt was a visible figure, anyway... only glimmering a bit at the contours. He stepped back and pushed the table with all his power, which still was impressive in his relief muscles, although the skin atop them started to turn into jelly. Before she could stop to analyze the measure of damage to her vision, she was affixed to the floor. The reddish blue print of the table rib on her body will stay for months...
Elle roared and pushed the table away. It scattered in the air, turning into sawdust, like a bad school article. Budd dropped down, and sword's blade pierced the wall above him, which gave a couple of seconds for maneuver. He grabbed her legs and jerked.
Tailbone suffered the most, but, which was more important, Japanese steel stayed in the wall up there. Budd pulled it out and put to her Adam's apple. If she only coughed now...
"I'm glad you two get along..."
Budd turned his head to the voice, sticking the blade into the floor, like a damn cane. It was Bill. Imperturbable, the person, who they both adored and were afraid of, each – in their own way, which more – depended on situation.
"Just wanted to invite you into dining room," - Bill added.
Elle ripped herself away from the hypnotic rapture of Bill's voice and hit Budd's precious place. It was doubtfully that precious, really, but the moment when all his attention was attached to Bill, was a perfection itself. Just a pity, the kick resulted to be a diagonal one. Front kick promises castration in a lucky case, but there was no place for choices and "balls' strategy".
He yelped and fell onto his ass, which, probably, doubled the pleasure from close communication with Elle Driver. Bill only shrugged.
"And Budd... I need to have a conversation with you, so..." – he stretched an arm to his brother.
Budd wanted some ice, not business conversations more than everything. But, without turning back, he hobbled after Bill, leaving Elle, uncombed, but satisfied (fight is like sex, only your partner dies more often and gets less pleasure) to lay on the floor. She pushed herself up on her elbows, considering, how many bones could be broken, sticking into Budd's back with her left eye. She kind of plunged an invisible dart between his shoulder blades, and he was still moving away, moving away. For the first time in her life she experienced a short moment of disappointment with Bill's appearance. Maybe she wouldn't nail the dork down, but she would hurt him bad for sure.
"Nevertheless one day," – she muttered, shaking the "femaled" jacket off from the sawdust, "I will destroy you."
Elle Driver made promises rarely, but always kept them. Another rule of the left side of life.