CHAPTER 1
BEATRIX
Yeah, it's been what, 15 years now? I really thought that revenge was the way to go. But there were a few things no one told me (pauses to take another drink...yum, Kirin) One of these was, OK, what now? What's your goal in life now? Raise BB as a single mom?
Another...marketable skills. The only work I'd ever had was as an assassin.
For a time, I thought I could get by, teaching martial arts. I did for awhile. But let's face it – I was no Pai Mei. Hell, I wasn't an Hattori Hanzo! I worked at about four different dojos before I got the hint. I wasn't cut out to be a teacher.
I did get some welfare from the State (once I returned from Mexico, that was about four years) for BB. But it's mostly been me sitting around wondering if maybe walking out on D-VAS was such a good idea.
I did think of getting married again, but…it didn't seem to work so well last time, so why bother?
I still sometimes remember that little girl Vernita had, the one who saw me kill her mother…God, I need another beer! There we go…last thing I wanted was for there to be innocent victims.
"Mom?"
That'd be BB, getting back from school. Better answer the door…
(Gets up and answers door. We see BB, aged 20 now, looking like a very prim and proper young lady, and no wonder – she attends a Catholic school and is in uniform)
"Hey mom. Any mail?"
No hun, not today. (God I hate that damn uniform, looks too much like Gogo Yubari) You still set on going to school out of state? after all, Austin is a very good school, and UTEP…
"Nah. Texas is a really shitty state. I want to see the world, just like you did."
(See the world. If you only knew the half of it.)
OK, You want to send out for Domino's again?
"Nah. Hillary asked if I could come over to study. Her mom is making dinner. I just stopped by to pick up some things, to see if you were OK…"
(Jesus Christ, she's really saying 'to see if Mom is drunk on her ass again')
Yes, Mom, I'm OK. It usually takes another three Kirins to make me wasted…
Say hello to Hillary when you get there. Give Murphy some cat food on the way out.
"OK, Mom. Seeya."
(Murphy the cat crawls up on Bea's lap. He's a large tom, about 10 years old, gray striped with white belly, face and legs. Murphy rubs his head against Bea's hand, and she responds by scratching him under his chin)
Yeah, I guess it's up to me to be mommy again. (She gets up to fetch a can of 9 Lives. Murphy follows with a loud meow.)
This might be a good time to debrief you folks on just how I am, how I got to be with Bill and the D-VAS, and all that. There wasn't really time in the first two films.
(TITLE: THE LIFE OF BEATRIX KIDDO)
I was born April 29, 1970 in Amsterdam, Holland. My parents were a couple of hippies, Dad had actually come to Amsterdam to avoid the draft. I was named after the Queen of the Netherlands, Beatrix. The "Kiddo" thing came along later, my family name back then was Kornblatt. Seems Mom and Dad were involved with some freaky religious cult, and changed the family name. Plus, Dad had a freaky sense of humor, he got off on the idea of some boss calling him "Kiddo" and sounding kind of flip, even when he wanted to chew dad's ass out (which, BTW, nearly everyone did. Dad was NOT a font of responsibility.)
We went back to the US in 1976, when I was 6, and Jimmy Carter had the draft dodger amnesty thing going. We settled in Los Angeles. It was not an easy life. Most of what little money we could earn (a lot of nights, we'd just have boiled potatoes and sour cream for dinner) went to the cult. Then the Jim Jones / Guyana thing came along. Mom thought it best NOT to be associated with people who might want you to drink poisoned Kool Aid. So we left Dad and went to her parents' hometown, Baltimore, MD.
Life in Balti was not very nice either. She started going with some Latino guy who used coke and smack (sometimes both at once, which scared the living hell out of me), beat on her, and (mercifully only once) tried to touch me. It was the last time he touched anyone…and the first time I'd killed. I was 15 years old.
I'll never forget the first time I saw Bill. I was all of 17 at the time, living on the street. I occasionally did some work in the strip clubs out in San Francisco. It was 3 am Sunday and just finished my shift. I was about to go to an all night dinner for eggs and bacon (I'd given up my family's vegan habit a LONG time before) when I saw him, playing the flute. He was sitting crosslegged, a few doors from the bar. What really caught my eye was that he looked so well dressed, a neatly pressed black suit, bolo tie, and rings on both hands. I was about to toss him a dollar when he held up his hand.
"I'm not doing this so I can make money."
I looked at him like, "Well what do you do for money?"
He smiled. "Kill."
I laughed, a little nervously. "Kill who?"
"Anyone, anytime, anyplace. In any event, I have more money than anyone could possibly want. Can I buy you breakfast?"
"Sure." (Old Chinese saying – 'Never refuse a free meal')
I was sure he was one of the many wingnuts who'd inhabited the City, seemingly from the start. But when he pulled out a hundred dollar bill to the waitress and said, "Your best table, please" I thought, "Hey, a wingnut with money. I wonder…"
And so, he told me a few things. He said he'd fought in Vietnam, he had learned the martial arts from several of the best in Japan and China (I'd always wanted to go to China, and was excited when he mentioned it) and he was so wealthy from being a professional assassin that no one – not the FBI, not anyone – could ever touch him. "But, Beatrix –" he leaned in "I need a challenge. I'm assembling a team. But not just any team, the top team of assassins the world has ever seen. If you're interested, we might have an opening for you." He leaned back, casually. "How about it?"
I didn't even think twice. "Yes."
"Splendid. Let's see about getting you a passport, then."
"Passport?"
He laughed again. "Don't you remember? We're going to China!"
BEATRIX
Yeah, it's been what, 15 years now? I really thought that revenge was the way to go. But there were a few things no one told me (pauses to take another drink...yum, Kirin) One of these was, OK, what now? What's your goal in life now? Raise BB as a single mom?
Another...marketable skills. The only work I'd ever had was as an assassin.
For a time, I thought I could get by, teaching martial arts. I did for awhile. But let's face it – I was no Pai Mei. Hell, I wasn't an Hattori Hanzo! I worked at about four different dojos before I got the hint. I wasn't cut out to be a teacher.
I did get some welfare from the State (once I returned from Mexico, that was about four years) for BB. But it's mostly been me sitting around wondering if maybe walking out on D-VAS was such a good idea.
I did think of getting married again, but…it didn't seem to work so well last time, so why bother?
I still sometimes remember that little girl Vernita had, the one who saw me kill her mother…God, I need another beer! There we go…last thing I wanted was for there to be innocent victims.
"Mom?"
That'd be BB, getting back from school. Better answer the door…
(Gets up and answers door. We see BB, aged 20 now, looking like a very prim and proper young lady, and no wonder – she attends a Catholic school and is in uniform)
"Hey mom. Any mail?"
No hun, not today. (God I hate that damn uniform, looks too much like Gogo Yubari) You still set on going to school out of state? after all, Austin is a very good school, and UTEP…
"Nah. Texas is a really shitty state. I want to see the world, just like you did."
(See the world. If you only knew the half of it.)
OK, You want to send out for Domino's again?
"Nah. Hillary asked if I could come over to study. Her mom is making dinner. I just stopped by to pick up some things, to see if you were OK…"
(Jesus Christ, she's really saying 'to see if Mom is drunk on her ass again')
Yes, Mom, I'm OK. It usually takes another three Kirins to make me wasted…
Say hello to Hillary when you get there. Give Murphy some cat food on the way out.
"OK, Mom. Seeya."
(Murphy the cat crawls up on Bea's lap. He's a large tom, about 10 years old, gray striped with white belly, face and legs. Murphy rubs his head against Bea's hand, and she responds by scratching him under his chin)
Yeah, I guess it's up to me to be mommy again. (She gets up to fetch a can of 9 Lives. Murphy follows with a loud meow.)
This might be a good time to debrief you folks on just how I am, how I got to be with Bill and the D-VAS, and all that. There wasn't really time in the first two films.
(TITLE: THE LIFE OF BEATRIX KIDDO)
I was born April 29, 1970 in Amsterdam, Holland. My parents were a couple of hippies, Dad had actually come to Amsterdam to avoid the draft. I was named after the Queen of the Netherlands, Beatrix. The "Kiddo" thing came along later, my family name back then was Kornblatt. Seems Mom and Dad were involved with some freaky religious cult, and changed the family name. Plus, Dad had a freaky sense of humor, he got off on the idea of some boss calling him "Kiddo" and sounding kind of flip, even when he wanted to chew dad's ass out (which, BTW, nearly everyone did. Dad was NOT a font of responsibility.)
We went back to the US in 1976, when I was 6, and Jimmy Carter had the draft dodger amnesty thing going. We settled in Los Angeles. It was not an easy life. Most of what little money we could earn (a lot of nights, we'd just have boiled potatoes and sour cream for dinner) went to the cult. Then the Jim Jones / Guyana thing came along. Mom thought it best NOT to be associated with people who might want you to drink poisoned Kool Aid. So we left Dad and went to her parents' hometown, Baltimore, MD.
Life in Balti was not very nice either. She started going with some Latino guy who used coke and smack (sometimes both at once, which scared the living hell out of me), beat on her, and (mercifully only once) tried to touch me. It was the last time he touched anyone…and the first time I'd killed. I was 15 years old.
I'll never forget the first time I saw Bill. I was all of 17 at the time, living on the street. I occasionally did some work in the strip clubs out in San Francisco. It was 3 am Sunday and just finished my shift. I was about to go to an all night dinner for eggs and bacon (I'd given up my family's vegan habit a LONG time before) when I saw him, playing the flute. He was sitting crosslegged, a few doors from the bar. What really caught my eye was that he looked so well dressed, a neatly pressed black suit, bolo tie, and rings on both hands. I was about to toss him a dollar when he held up his hand.
"I'm not doing this so I can make money."
I looked at him like, "Well what do you do for money?"
He smiled. "Kill."
I laughed, a little nervously. "Kill who?"
"Anyone, anytime, anyplace. In any event, I have more money than anyone could possibly want. Can I buy you breakfast?"
"Sure." (Old Chinese saying – 'Never refuse a free meal')
I was sure he was one of the many wingnuts who'd inhabited the City, seemingly from the start. But when he pulled out a hundred dollar bill to the waitress and said, "Your best table, please" I thought, "Hey, a wingnut with money. I wonder…"
And so, he told me a few things. He said he'd fought in Vietnam, he had learned the martial arts from several of the best in Japan and China (I'd always wanted to go to China, and was excited when he mentioned it) and he was so wealthy from being a professional assassin that no one – not the FBI, not anyone – could ever touch him. "But, Beatrix –" he leaned in "I need a challenge. I'm assembling a team. But not just any team, the top team of assassins the world has ever seen. If you're interested, we might have an opening for you." He leaned back, casually. "How about it?"
I didn't even think twice. "Yes."
"Splendid. Let's see about getting you a passport, then."
"Passport?"
He laughed again. "Don't you remember? We're going to China!"