Chapter 35: Close Encounters
The next few days passed without incident. Bob called Bill a few more times, his panties apparently still in a wad over Beatrix. Bill spent those conversations subtly trying to piss Bob off even more with vague insults. Bill eventually unplugged his fax machine, because he was sick and tired of receiving Bob's pointless threatening faxes. It seemed, when it came to Bill...Bob was mostly talk. The leader of the CPA seemed a little frightened of Bill and never took any of his threats to fruition. Bill didn't give a shit, as long as he didn't get one more fucking fax...
O-Ren was shipped back a few days after Beatrix's runaway return. The Chinese/Japanese woman apparently had caused some 'trouble' after Beatrix departed but as to what trouble she stirred up was a mystery. She still seemed a little miffed at Bill but he shrugged it off. When it came to him, she always came around.
It was five days after Beatrix had returned, on a bright morning when her doorbell rang. By the "style" of the whole thing, it didn't seem to be anybody she knew all to well. They tended to just pound on the door, or yell at her through it.
When Beatrix got up and answered the door, it was indeed not anybody she knew. A middle aged man in a dark suit stood planted on her doorstep. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses, but he quickly took them off. Flipping out his wallet in the distinctive "cop style" manner, he revealed the badge that nobody in the assassin business liked to see very much.
"Miss Rebecca Willard," one of many of Beatrix's aliases, "I'm Special Agent Shulling from the FBI," he regarded her coolly with hazel eyes, "Might I have a word with you?"
'Rebecca Willard' was standing in the door way. She was adorned in a pair of gray sweat pants and a black tight fitting tank top. The weather was cooling and by a great extent of luck she didn't wear a scantly clad extra large t-shirt that night. So, she answered the door in respectable attire. As extensively trained as any professional assassin was they were just as extensively trained in dealing with the law. She wiped the slate clean of annoyance and surprise and kept to the hopeless victim.
When the authorities showed up Beatrix always felt more inclined to hate this part of her job even more than the possibilities of getting killed. But, she'd deal with it.
The tall blonde put on a casual façade and stepped to the side to admit entrance. "Of course." Once Agent Shulling was inside Beatrix casually sauntered into the living room were she motioned for the man to take a seat. It was always best to be polite because than you'd get on their good side. It also helped if one was not too 'movie' themed when dealing with the authorities when you knew you were hiding something. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
Agent Shulling gave "Rebecca" a tight professional smile, "Yes...that would be nice. Coffee, black." He seated himself straight backed on the nearby recliner. After a moment of gazing around the apartment in a skeptical manner, he placed his briefcase on his lap, opened it and began sifting through the contents as Beatrix went to make the coffee.
She returned, and handed him a cup, and then seated herself across from him. Agent Shulling took his time organizing the contents he had removed from his briefcase, then he shut it and shuffled the papers in his hands.
"Now...Miss Willard...I have certain...leads to believe you are associated with a man we've been looking for...for quite sometime," he began in a crisp tone. He pulled a glossy 8 X 10 black and white photo from the pile of papers, "We have a number of aliases for this man...but we are fairly certain he goes by the name of 'Bill'," he leaned forward and handed her the photo. It was Bill alright, but like many FBI files it was rather outdated...probably a good twenty years dated. It was a slightly blurry shot of Bill from the chest up. He was wearing a suit and turning slightly to the side, as if walking rather quickly. Darker hair, same style...just younger. To no surprise he was frowning, with a furrowed brow.
Agent Shulling let Beatrix observe the photo for a few seconds. He leaned back, "Let me be honest with you Miss Shulling. We have fairly significant evidence to link you to a number of murders." He picked up a piece of paper, "Recently...in Miami, San Francisco and Birmingham Alabama. Currently, we lack enough solid evidence to do much about it at the moment...but," he raised his eyebrows, giving her a serious look, "...eventually we will. Whereupon your arrest, you will likely serve out a life sentence for the crimes you have committed."
Shulling let that sink in, this man was a pro. He knew exactly what he was doing. "But...this could all be avoided...if," he pointed at the picture still in Beatrix's hands, "...you can give me the location or information leading to the arrest of Bill. Once we have him in custody...all pending charges against you will be dropped, completely."
He leaned forward again, hands resting on his knees, "Wouldn't it be nice...Miss Shulling...to begin again with a clean slate?" He reached over and picked up the mug of coffee, watching her over the brim.
Beatrix continued to stare at the photo in her hands for quite some time and perhaps longer than warranted. Of course, she had listened closely to what Agent Shulling was saying and took it all in. Each of the Viper's had their dealings with the law on more then one occasion. Each time was different. This time Beatrix didn't feel any less inclined to tell any truth.
Ah, but to start off with a clean slate poked a needle through her blackened heart. Some times she yearned for it and tried to think of a reason that would allow her to get away with it. She looked for a legitimate excuse that could start her life anew and make up for past mistakes. But, that went back to the point of being in the norm and she was far from it. Such was life and right now her life was pretty damn good, considering. She wasn't going to fuck it up, not yet.
"Indeed it would but," she handed him back the glossy photograph. "I've never seen that man before."
Shulling was watching Beatrix closely. He was well trained in these sort of things...and he frowned noticeably when she gave him a negative response. A polygraph test would have been very nice at the moment...but again, there was not enough evidence against Beatrix as of yet to give the right to implement such a test.
"You do realize there is significant evidence that links the two of you together?" But again, she only repeated what she'd said before. "Hrm, very well...," he said softly and shuffled the photo back into the stack of papers.
"I must tell you Miss Willard, that if you are convicted...withholding evidence, especially evidence against a man such as the one I asked you about, will only add more upon your already long sentence. The court does not look kindly upon withholding evidence against international murderers."
Still, the blonde was a sheet of innocence.
Shulling took a few more sips of his coffee, sitting quietly. It was a comfort tactic...people often made mistakes when in uncomfortable social situations. But again, this tactic seemed useless against this woman. Her flat out denial seemed to be all she was going to give him.
After a moment longer, Shulling stood...setting his coffee down, "Unless you have any other...information to give me... I will be on my way." He reached into his pocket and handed her a FBI issued business card, "My number...in case," a small smirk, "you change your mind about that clean slate." He raised an eyebrow.
Beatrix took the card with a spark of gratitude. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you." She began to melodiously walk the agent to the door. She'd never change her mind nor have a second thought about giving Bill in. But, she would take second thoughts on the clean slate idea and these thoughts would in no manner be self preserved.
She casually opened the door and offered a fractured smile to Agent Shulling. "I'm sorry if I've caused you any inconvenience, sir." And with a final good-bye and further tries of persuasions the FBI man was gone. She tossed the card into the garbage.
The man's name was Ryu Hakikuro. But he went by "The Red Dragon" these days. He had been a member of the Japanese underground for over ten years. Now...he was a renegade. He'd come to the United States and his former yakuza brotherin wanted him wiped out of the picture. He was a liability to their credit...because he was a loose cannon.
He was fucking crazy really. The scary thing was Ryu was crazy, but he was also an incredibly skilled fighter and that was a bad combination. In desperation, the yakuza had contacted the Deadly Viper Association. And, naturally upon seeing the stats on the target, Bill sent Beatrix Kiddo.
Now, after finding her target and battling him for sometime...she found herself the target.
Ryu was a very disturbed individual. He was not just a simple killer, but an all around psychopath. He'd done every dirty deed a human being was capable of...and he was only getting worse. He knew, right away, that this tall blonde warrior would be his next. She was perfect. She'd been sent to kill him, but she was about to find that he was not like any of her other targets. She was going to suffer before she met her end at his blade.
They'd had a good battle but Ryu was absolutely skilled at what he did. And while, Beatrix was equally as good, Ryu had managed to gain the upper hand. He was a large man, especially for one of Oriental dissention...standing at well over six feet and massively built. He was in his thirties...but it was hard to tell exactly where. His hair was scraggly, at uneven lengths around his ears. He didn't appear to wash it much. He had a cruel face...with two dark, deep set eyes that seemed capable of showing nothing but madness. Everything about him was unkempt, as if he used to care...but had let it all go. His clothing was dirty and ill fitted and his shoes were falling apart.
Currently, he was standing above the fallen blonde warrior, his sword in his hand...hers was laying a few feet away. She was bruised, a little bloody but nothing compared to what she was going to be. She was staring up at him furiously, but she was smart enough to not ignore his blade at the ready. He was breathing hard, out of exertion and perhaps more.
"Not so bad..." he spoke to her in short gasps, he didn't seem like much of a man of words, "But...I'm afraid you're not quite good enough..." He flicked the small amount of blood off the end of his sword, "You thought I'd be just another kill...I know your type...but I am far from it..." his gaze turned down at her, "...I'm much more..."
Since Beatrix's temporary absence she had been raring to get back in the game. Bill had sent her on a few minor assignments that were easy offs but now she was prepared for the bigger 'fish'. She was anxious to show off and get her skills back to standard, to basically gain back the respect she had lost within those three months of working for the CPA. This target, "Red Dragon" was perfect, too perfect. She had put up a fair fight, gave it her all, and now she was down for the count.
Her nose was fractured and seeping blood and she had acquired multiple black and blue marks. At one point or another she lost the grip of her sword and was now degraded to the floor but not yet weaponless. She absolutely despised it when men chose to stand over and demean her. All it did was feed the fire burning in her blue eyes. As Ryu took a step forward his sword at the ready Beatrix went back into action. She'd never be brought down easily. When his foot was inches from her hand, which was lying at her side, she unveiled the pocket knife in her firm white fingers. It wasn't much but it was something.
With a warrior's cry of being fully irate she jabbed the small blade into the middle of his boot, going clear through the suede, and into flesh.
Ryu had been calm, at least...psychotically so...but now...she'd gone too far...she was only speeding up the inevitable. They'd had a fairly honorable battle thus far...but now...things were degrading quickly. That was fine with Ryu...he was a dishonored man now anyways...he had every right to fight as dirty as possible.
"BITCH!" He roared, grabbing at his ankle, as he bent over. While one hand shot out to grab at the knife she'd so expertly dug into his foot...the other hand flew out and hit her hard across the face. That would shut her American female mouth up for the moment.
"You stupid, bitch!" His English wasn't great...but he seemed to want to speak in nothing but that. "Very...very bad move..." He hit her in the face again to make his point clearer. He stood up to his full height again, kicking away the pocket knife. He stood like that for sometime, leering over her...face twisted with some inner demented thought.
They'd had this little battle in Ryu's small studio apartment. The apartment, like Ryu himself was a degraded mess. There was food everywhere, some of it looking and smelling quite old. Trash and junk was piled everywhere. The room was small enough, that with addition of the lived in mess, there was little space left. Their battle had only caused the mess to get worse...sharp blade marks were torn into the walls...and the TV had been pushed over...glass from the broken screen was scattered around the dirty carpet. A small mouse kept running by now and then, obviously in a hissy over its calm "home' being disturbed. The only real lighting came from a halfway curtained window, the curtain being of a dingy brown/yellow stain. In a room like this, there was seemingly no night and no day...the same drab, disgustingness prevailed at all times. The only decoration was of a giant pornographic poster of a Japanese woman...well maybe girl would be a better word for her, hanging on the far wall. The poster looked as if it had been torn down and restacked up a number of times. It was hard to believe such a skilled warrior as Ryu lived in a place like this...but even the mightiest could fall.
Ryu liked to stand over this woman...her anger was only more enticing. He gave her a feral smile...which was anything but pleasant or charming. the surprise...you think you came for the kill...but...things are different now." He re-gripped his sword, and after a moment of looking it over tossed it aside. He then bent and picked up the pocket knife that the woman had so recently stabbed him with. He scrutinized the small blade, and finding it suitable to his needs, brought it around, "You were a warrior...but now...your nothing...like all women...nothing at all."
With trained skillfulness he swooped down, the sharp pocket knife blade resting up against the blonde's neck. His other hand landing firmly on top of one of her arms, his opposite elbow holding down the other arm. He walked his knees up so that they were pressing down on her thighs. He was a large man...weighing at least 220...nearly impossible to shove off, especially when he was completely worked up like this. As if this wasn't bad enough, he dipped his head down right up next to her pretty cheek. She smelled like a fresh shower and blood... He smelled...well, far from nice.
His nose pressed up against the crook in her neck, his breathing hot in her ear, "Now...I think you are starting to understand, yes?" He pushed the blade a little harder up against her neck, "You move...how I don't want you to move...and this blade in my hand is going right into your throat...very easy to do like this..." His entire body was lying across hers now, and it was very obvious that Ryu was more than ready for this. Taking the risk that she wasn't going to want to have her throat slit, he moved away his non-knife holding hand and slipped it down her shirt. "You like men now don't you? I'll do many things to you...maybe you'll like some of them..."
Beatrix was known for being scared of little to nothing. Bill scared her sometimes but that was a whole different topic. When someone chose to degrade her in such a manner as scrutinizing her as just a 'woman' that pissed her off. When someone chose to degrade her by attempting rape that scared the shit out of her. This was a situation all 'female' assassins and perhaps on very sick occasions, men tried to avoid. Of course, you'd have your whack jobs try or give reference that they wanted some but it never occurred.
Beatrix always, always tried to avoid this especially with her 'good' looks it was hard not to get into a situation. But, rarely ever did it sink this low or become this bad.
Her heart was pounding harshly against her chest and she tried to keep up a calm façade even though her mind was racing a mile a minute. She'd think of a way out of it. She always did. She was Black Mamba. But for now she was just a scared young woman trying to keep herself together. The only thing she could do was stare him down and admit a nice wad of spit in his eye when he turned to her.
Most people would flinch back at being spat upon, but Ryu didn't even seem to notice. He was far too preoccupied with his hand down her shirt to care much. The spit just ran down his cheek. He didn't attempt to kiss her...he know better. She was a warrior, she knew how to use all of her weapons very well. He seemed to enjoy the mere act of simply having her completely pushed down on the ground...each and every one of her limbs useless. She was helpless under his power and he was getting off on that more than anything else.
He remained like that for a few minutes, his head pushing painfully at the side of her face, hot breath in her ear and a roving, violating hand. He was still pressing the pocket knife blade up against her throat; a small cut had already formed underneath it. To Ryu, this was male power. He was exercising his right as a man. He had bested this woman and now knowing he could easily take her, he was going to. Call it a reward.
Finally, he sat up...his lower body still pressed firmly against hers. He stared her down, he looked utterly vile and perverted. She was staring back at him with silent cold fury. This made him laugh, and he did...revealing a set of not so straight nor white teeth. "Your anger is wasted...you should just give up now...in awhile, it will be over." He flipped his handgrip on the pocket knife, so that the tip of the blade was pointing directly into her throat, "Now...take your pants off...or I stick this into your throat, before I stick this..." he grabbed at himself, which he obviously found a good amount of pleasure in doing. When she didn't move, his look intensified, "DO IT!" He snarled, pressing the sharp blade tip slightly into her skin.
The tall blonde was beginning to perspire, her breathing was becoming rapid and panicked, and her heart beat felt as though it'd bang right through her chest. She was starting to lose it, she never lost it. There was one occasion back when she first began training but back then she had a right to lose it and now she had ultimately no right. Somehow, she couldn't even recall how this man got the upper hand but he did and she was paying for it. A careless mistake or perhaps she wasn't that good. Beatrix never doubted herself or her killing abilities but right now she doubted. And with this self doubt she brought self pity which was only leading to hysterics. Glossy, fearful, and irate blue eyes darted around the small area franticly for anything she could try and use as a weapon to defend herself. Nothing.
There was nothing and she was nothing. She wasn't the deadliest woman in the world; she was a 'normal' woman fearful for her dignity. She gulped down the lump in her throat and answered in a hoarse whisper, "I can't...These...they're tight pants...I need to stand..." The full out truth. She was clad in a pair of tight blue jeans. But that didn't mean she could still make one more fleeting attempt.
Ryu was not a reasonable person in a reasonable state...her perfectly reasonable explanation seemed completely crazy to him. "Bullshit!" He hissed, hitting her in the face again...the knife point digging further into her throat. "You're a lying bitch...I'm not letting you stand up..." He shifted slightly, and with one long motion moved the knife away from her throat and began slicing down the one leg of her pants. It was a sloppy cut, nicking her skin all the way down. While he was doing this, his free hand, clasped around her throat...his fingers digging into her skin with bruising pressure.
When Ryu had successfully ripped the entire side on one of the legs on the woman's jeans...he switched to the other side...slashing away with that same frantic carelessness. Finally, after a few agonizing...humiliating minutes, Ryu threw aside the remainder of what was once a nice pair of jeans. He then turned back to her, and resumed pressing the knife against her throat. He was obviously very excited now that he could see more of her flesh. There were numerous small knife cuts all over her legs now...but Ryu seemed to find that a good thing. He pressed down hard on her, a hand grasping at her thigh. "Take the rest off..." he groaned in her ear. He seemed to want to see her do this...
Beatrix was never scared but right now she was terrified. She'd prefer participating in a gore fest over coming close to anything like this. This degraded any woman to the point of feeling lower then a piece of shit. All men were well aware they had dominance over any woman no matter how strong willed it just depended on how they chose to exploit this dominance. Too many took advantage.
Her wall that took a life time to make was crumbling in a matter of seconds. The fact that Beatrix was allowing herself to become so worked up and corrupted like this made her stomach churn. This wasn't who she was nor who she wanted to be. She was no woman that shivered in a dark corner because her pride was being stolen. She fought back, pushed it aside, and pretended it never happened, the perfect tactic of mind over body. But, she couldn't do it. Her body was panicking. She was forming full fledged tears in those pretty blue eyes and she was shaking her head vigorously 'no' to his demands.
Another hit to the face and the stinging sensation of a forming black eye brought on the tears. She tilted her head a little to the side and now able to use her hands she began to slowly drift down to her lower regions. This was it, she couldn't fight back, she couldn't do anything. She was helpless.
Just when she was about to give up everything and completely submit she spotted through her blurry vision a glint of metal sparkling under a filthy box of left over pizza a hand stretch away.
That hysterically crying little girl was put on hold and Beatrix Kiddo wiped her traveling hand out to snatch up the item from beneath the box. A metal butter knife.
Before Ryu had time to stop self indulging by pressing his body down even harder, Beatrix let out a warrior's cry mixed with her own emotional turmoil and brought the makeshift weapon around and she thrust it deep into his back.
Ryu let out a scream of pain. A dull butter knife, when thrust hard stab...and this was most definitely thrust hard enough to stab. He reared up, a hand reaching around to pull out the knife that had embedded itself a good inch into his back. He yanked it out with another yowl. Once he had the bloody tipped knife in his hand, he turned back on the blonde warrior.
She thought she was so smart...that was not smart...now, she was going to be dead. "Very...very...bad idea..." Ryu gasped, eyes ablaze with murderous intentions. He tried to jab down at her with the knife, but she was alive again...somehow...and she blocked his arm...hitting a nerve point and sending the knife flying out of his hand.
He snarled in frustration. He still had her pinned down with his lower body, and he wasn't about to let her go that easily. Balling up a fist, he smashed her right in her already busied and bloody face. If he couldn't have her...then he was going to beat her to death...
Beatrix had miraculously gained back the upper hand. Well, not entirely but enough that her heart was beating at a much healthier pace. She took the hit and her head bounced back against the carpet. The knife had fallen out of reach and unless she could think of a clever way to use a crusty pizza box she was out of options.
But she had gained an upper hand and she had to keep some of it or she'd be right back in that place where she didn't want to be. She had to use her head...? Her jaw clenched closed and as Ryu's hand came in for another heinous punch she craned her neck all the way to the side so he hit the ground.
Unfortunately it wasn't a hard enough impact to break it. But he was coming back in and Black Mamba was ready. She lifted her head up a few inches from the ground and with one sharp motion forward she smashed the butt of her forehead into his.
A head butt was something of a manly maneuver, but even the manliest of men had a hard time taking it...let alone executing it, without reeling. Ryu made a small chocking noise, as both hands instinctively went up to grab at his forehead, which felt like it had been cracked open. His expression was something between complete shock and a near epileptic attack...as his eyes began to roll back into his head. While doing this, he let off a good amount of pressure he had been forcing on Beatrix's body. He had to turn to the side in an attempt to stop his spinning head. In doing so, he gave her a precious number of seconds for a second attack.
The amount of pressure that was finally released gave Beatrix the leverage she needed. Without hesitation she bent her knee and made sharp contact into his groin. A cheap shot but if anyone deserved it was him. As Ryu yelled out and doubled over in excruciating pain Beatrix sprang up.
On hands and knees she stretched out and snatched up the fallen butter knife. With effortless ease crawled on her knees and up beside the fallen pervert. Blue eyes glowing with ultimate killer instincts and a façade so vacant of expression one could find it creepy. Without any hesitation she lifted up the butter knife and brought it down quick and accurately into Ryu's temple. She held it deeply embedded into the side of his skull as his body jerked and sputtered in his last breaths of air and dying motor skills.
Her target was dead. It was over. She could breathe again but she didn't breath, she took a crawl backwards away from the dead body and collapsed against the edge of the bed. Her face was bruised, bloodied, and her eyes were puffy. She leaned her head back against the base of the bed and screamed out. This was no warrior cry but a cry for herself and how close she came to losing it. She was so strong, so thick skinned, and when that cracked Beatrix almost wished she had no feelings at all. Of course, she could block it out when she had to. But she could only block it out for so long. Beatrix held a love hate relationship with the idea of 'zen' and the perfection of gaining complete control over your emotions. If she hadn't gone into the deepest recesses of her mind and hid, she'd never have gotten out of this alive, as well as numerous other assignments. A vivid attempt of mind over body but that didn't support the aftermath. The aftermath of crying, shriveling up, and becoming vulnerable. After realizing what she held back and the on rush of emotions she had hidden was unbearable at times. It was unhealthy to lock feelings up forever but was it healthy to let them all out? At least she had privacy and never showed this 'aftermath' in front of anyone.
A good twenty minutes passed and she finally ceased. The fight was over, the target was dead, the emotions were out, the tears were shed, the lesson was learned, and she could go home.
When Nikishi answered the door she had been expecting Beatrix, but she hadn't been expecting Beatrix to look like she did. The blonde warrior rarely took such a beating to her pretty face. The shorter Japanese woman quickly recovered herself and regained her calm facade. "Bill is in the back," she said softly, gesturing to the back patio area and walking with the taller woman up until the living room. Then, she turned and went back to some odd task or another.
Bill was indeed in the back. He was standing barefoot on the stone steps leading up onto the now very familiar Oriental courtyard/garden. His back was slightly turned as Beatrix approached. His Hanzo sword was in his hand, and he appeared to be carefully scrutinizing the hilt of it. Bill was incredibly protective with the weapon and babied it like a deadly child of sorts. Over his typical black pants he was wearing a hideously ugly button up western style shirt that looked like a true throwback from the 70's.
"Hey Kiddo, I-" he turned to look at her. An expression of light interest was suddenly replaced with utmost concern and anger. "Jesus," he murmured, eyes widening momentarily. Her face looked like a train wreck...and he rarely said that about Beatrix. She had two black eyes, numerous healing cuts and deep bruises on her normally flawless face.
Bill bent, laid his sword down on the stairs and then took a few long strides towards her. She was a killer, she was trained to endure such things...she had in the past and no doubt she would again. But, that didn't mean he had to like it. Bill was an admirer of female beauty, a connoisseur of sorts. He'd been that way ever since he was a little boy. It wasn't just typical male tendencies; it was more than that...as if he put female beauty on an unreachable pedestal. He continually doused it with affection and favoritism. Now, to see his favorite woman...it could even be said...his woman, like this...well, it fucking pissed him off!
He met Beatrix with two hands on her shoulders. "What happened?" He asked the concern evident in his voice as well as his face. He was concerned for her, yes...but he was also concerned about the mission. Something could have gone wrong...it was important he know. He could only hope that she would tell the truth.
There was an edginess in her puffy eyes, something glazed over...and he tentatively laid a caring hand on her bruised cheek. She flinched, just barely at this contact. Bill's gaze darkened. Something wasn't right.
Beatrix let him touch her but not for long. She soon enough took a step back and away from any caring hands. She didn't want psychical contact or a dose of sympathy. It was cruel to reject Bill when he was trying to display a caring side but it didn't cross her mind. For all she knew her body could be yearning for sympathetic touches and all she was doing was being cruel to herself.
She didn't want to look at him, his face with that hard edged frown but she did. It would only warrant his concern and make it harder for her to get the 'truth' out about what happened.
Beatrix almost always had an easy time telling the truth when it came down to assignments. Assignments were general topics. Either they were a success or fell short of one. This assignment fell very short. She began in a calm but not overly calm tone, she was a master when it came to lying, "The target was a challenge." She gave a shrug as if it were no big deal. "He gained the upper hand at a point and beat me down," literally. Her face hurt like a bitch and healing it only hurt more. Like Bill she favored her face, not to the same point but like any person she took good care of it and when it was hurt, she wasn't happy. "I took it back eventually and stuck a butter knife in his temple. He's dead." She paused. "All is right in the world."
Bill settled his hands in his pockets as she stepped away. He couldn't deny it, he wanted to shower her with tender affection...but she didn't want that. She was never one to really need such things in times like this, he knew that. He also knew that she never really needed him for such things. It was a hard pill to swallow, for even hard bastards liked to be needed now and again, but it was the truth and he had to respect that. Beatrix Kiddo was her own woman, and unlike some other women, she didn't need a man to quantify that fact. Bill tilted his head to the side, eyes softening a little above the typical frown as he listened to her short explanation. As always, he never interrupted, it was rude and uncouth. But he watched in silent concern.
When she had finished, he shook his head, "All is not right in the world Kiddo," he knew she was just making a closing statement, but Bill often couldn't help himself, "If the world is in fact...still the world, then it will never be right." He waved a hand dismissing his typical randomness, "This asshole was ex-yakuza...he was good with a sword. Yet, you appear to have bested him in that category, but he managed to beat your face in...shameful turn of events..." a purse of the lips at how angry that still made him, especially looking at her closer now, "Looks like you head butted him," he gestured to the trademark bruise at the top her forehead, "That was a nice touch."
He let out a breath, crossing his arms. With Beatrix, the truth was immensely complicated. She was an impeccable lair, but so was he. And being an impeccable liar also qualified you to be able to pick the faintest lie out, even within a stack of solid truths. But, Bill was wary of trying to pick apart these two things when it came to Beatrix. She was simply too good...and he found it easier, for now, to let it all go. Besides, the target was eliminated...brutally so, the assignment was a success. She would have no reason to lie to him really. The only tarnishing point was her wounded face. Bill was vain for her face, because he was so not so for himself. There was more wrong with her than a beaten face, he could just sense it. But there was no point in prodding. Right now, especially, she was as thick skinned and unreachable as himself. He was through with trying to reach out and ask her such things. If she wanted to tell him, she would...although that was highly unlikely.
"Well," he said finally, "...that's good to hear. I knew you could handle this target. I'll consider the assignment a success then. A job well done."
Beatrix gave a tight nod and a tart thank you. She honestly was thankful that he didn't prod her on this one. She would never ever tell him what really happened. That she was bested beyond the point of a simple hand to hand combat. If he found out of course he'd feel sorry for her and then she'd take that as a hint to endure self pity. She'd pity herself for being put in that situation. Arms crossed over her chest as uneasy silence grated through the area. The soft melody of various birds echoed around the trees. She finally spoke up in an overly softened tone, "I just came to give you the...good news. I'm gonna head back home and stick my head in the freezer a few more times." If she was in a better mood she would have smirked or found an inner laugh at that but right now she was far from it.
Bill allowed a brief smirk at her freezer comment. But he was still put off by whatever nagging darkness was causing her to be so...melancholy. It wasn't like she was miss hyper happy go lucky...but she was being far from herself. Beatrix, if anybody easily bounced back after assignments.
He frowned, "You're a fucking pain in the ass. Come on Kiddo." he took her gently by the elbow and began to walk her into the house, "That freezer thing...I don't recommend it all that often actually," he talked, as they strolled across the backyard, "You'll ruin your skin...suck all the moisture out and end up looking like me before too long," he offered a wry grin, "Let's get you something a little more effective."
Once inside the kitchen, Bill incidentally opened the freezer. He then removed an ice pack...one of the types professional athletes tended to use. A nice nylon covering enclosed the pack of ice, lessening the amount of trauma to one's skin. A small cap on one end allowed it to be refilled easily. He turned and handed it to Beatrix, "Here...take this." While she took it and began to apply it to her face Bill busied himself with making tea at the far counter, his back to her. She was utterly silent the entire time.
Once finished, Bill handed her one of the two ceramic Oriental style cups. It was hot tea of an unknown variety. Bill had some pretty bizarre tea flavors on hand. He leaned up against the counter, cup in hand...intense look fixated on her, "I always drink this when I feel like shit. I don't know if it really helps, but I try to pretend it does." He raised an eyebrow as well as his cup, in a silent toast and then took a long drink.
Beatrix raised both brows questionably and with her free hand that wasn't occupied with the ice pack she took a sip of the tea. She made a coughing gag and set the ceramic mug back on the counter with a loud thud. Her features contorted into disgust. "That...tastes like shit." She pushed the mug back across to his side of the counter.
She was never big on tea, she preferred coffee but she could go for a good cup of tea every now and then. That was not a good cup of tea. She nonchalantly slipped onto the bar stool, one elbow bent on the table and cupping the ice pack gingerly to her bruised facial features, and the other folded on the surface. Blue eyes settled on Bill. "Don't even try to convince me to drink any more of that."
Bill frowned, "You wound me," he replied dryly setting his own now empty cup down. "It's not supposed to be good...it's supposed to be healing." He picked up her cup and drowned it in one long sip, before setting it down back on the counter. "Not all positive things are entirely pleasing," he murmured, not being able to stop himself and try to convince her at least a little. But there was no reaction from her at all. "Fine...fine," he waved a hand, crossing to the other side of the kitchen, where there was already a pot of coffee sitting halfway emptied. There was always at least somebody at Bill's place that drank coffee; it was a necessity to have at the ready. He poured coffee into her now empty cup and brought it over to her.
"There," he set it down on the counter in front of her folded arm. He then sat himself down on the stool next to her, arms resting on the counter. He picked up a pad of blank post it notes that had been sitting there, and flipped the pad of paper back and forth between his fingers a few times. "So...Kiddo...what's the deal?" He asked suddenly. He of course knew better, he'd just sworn to himself he wasn't going to peruse the former topic. But...Bill was persistent. "Unless it's a woman thing...and in that case, I don't want to know."
Beatrix was idly sipping from her mug of coffee which she was expectedly happier with. She lowered it and peered over the rim at him. Maybe she could do something to cheer herself up. Bill opened up an option. Her devilish tinted smirk was hidden behind the mug she held just above her nose. "I'm PMSing so just don't do anything. It may send me off the handle," she replied flatly but blue eyes twinkled with a spark of amusement. That was a lie too but Bill didn't know any better and it was an easy way to cover up her current mood.
"Oh...fuck," Bill grumbled darkly, instantly regretting he had even asked that question. "Well..." he gave her a quick glance, "I appreciate the warning...for my own safety." Having worked with women for so long, Bill was very aware of the deadly combination of PMSing female assassins. Normal women were bad enough...killer women...well, that was something else entirely. They did vile things. And it was always his luck that all of them were that way at the same time...like a bunch of irate irritable banshees ready to tear apart anything that moved or looked at them the wrong way. Knowing this bit of new information, Bill wisely let any further prodding on that subject completely drop.
They sat in complete silent for a few more minutes. Bill was not one to mind silence, nor find it uncomfortable. But right now, Beatrix's whole demeanor caused it to be so. Finally, he spoke up, "Perhaps its best you go home and get some down time in." He gestured towards the ice pack, "Keep that." A pause, "I'd hate to see that face of yours scarred up." Superficial, but true.
"I appreciate that," she said and rose from the stool. Of course she completely agreed with him. She'd hate to get her pretty face scared up and that's why she was taking extra good care of it. She was even using some that shitty scar cream that evidently was working. She turned to the hallway but gave him a side glance over her shoulder. "See ya later, Bill."