Chapter five
Waste of witch time
"So finally, in the fifth fucking inning, Ramirez actually hits the ball, okay?" Enzo said, adjusting his mirror. "Solid line drive, shoots right past the pitcher. But you know what he does next?"
In the back seat, Bayonetta stretched out along the entire width of the car, her head sticking out one window and her feet out the other. "I can't possibly imagine," she said.
"He starts WALKING! He puts the bat down like it's made outta glass, and he fucking walks towards first base!" Enzo pounded his fist on the dashboard for emphasis, chipping off a piece.
Bayonetta yawned. "It seems he cared about that game just as much as I do," she said.
"But that ain't the worst part," Enzo continued, oblivious to her sarcasm. "He actually made it to first base, because the shortstop doesn't even run for the ball! He starts walking, too!"
Bayonetta looked out the window as Enzo continued to rant and rave. There was surprisingly little traffic, which Enzo was taking as an excuse to drive as recklessly as possible. She was grateful – at least the wind on her face made her feel like she was going somewhere.
The three worlds rarely aligned, but were all united today in their pursuit – nothing. Heaven wasn't making any moves, hell wasn't either, and the human world, bereft of their influences, was lying motionless, like a puppet with no strings. Which should've been just fine – she was due for a break – but even she was running low on items on her bucket list. She'd been to three out-of-business sales this month, and barely bought anything at any of them. Even hedonistic freedom had its limits, and she was bumping up against them.
A splotch of darkness against the sun caught her attention. She looked up at it, then pulled her head back into the car. Enzo continued rambling, unaware.
"And the coach doesn't even put up a fight, even though anyone who's got eyes can see-"
"Hit the brakes, Enzo," Bayonetta said.
"Huh?" he responded, turning to look at her.
"Stop, now," she commanded.
Obediently, Enzo slammed on the brakes. A second later, a centaur dropped from the sky and thrust its lance into the car's engine block, exactly where Enzo's head would've been if he hadn't braked.
"What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, his head slamming into the steering wheel, then back into the seat as the airbag deployed.
The centaur roared at them through the now smashed windshield. Though he couldn't see it, Enzo felt the spittle from its mouth hit him in the face. Screaming, he dove for the floor, putting his hands over his head. He looked at his passenger, who had taken the crash much better than he did. "Whaddaya waiting for?" he demanded of her. "Get out there and stop that thing!"
Bayonetta leaned back. "Actually, Enzo, I was thinking maybe you could take this one."
"What?" he screamed, incredulous.
Outside the car, two more centaurs fell behind the first. They brandished their lances threateningly.
"Oh, fine, I'll do it," she said. She opened the car door and stepped out, cracking her back. "All right, boys, let's make this quick."
The first centaur snarled, lunging at her and standing with his spear. She stepped to the side and entered witch time. Then, in one fluid motion, she pulled out a stiletto knife from her purse and slit the centaur's throat.
Time resumed, and the centaur grabbed its throat, gurgling as the blood spilled from its wound. A few seconds later, its knees gave out and it fell to the ground, dead.
The two remaining monsters charged her at the same time, so she deftly stepped in between them. She swung the knife overhead as she entered witch time again, cutting the jugular veins of both of them in one motion. She walked away, and when time resumed they both let out a guttural screech before dying, their bodies falling next to the first one. The encounter had ended in roughly five seconds of real time.
Score: 30
Rank: F
"Oh, who gives a toss?" she said. "They're dead, aren't they? And I saved my dress this time."
Enzo stepped from the car shakily, seeing that she was done. He looked around. "That was it?" he said, disappointed. "Where was all the crazy dancing, and the jumping, and takin' off your clothes and stuff?"
"Well, I would, but I've already done my cardio for the day," she said. "I'll see you later, Enzo."
"Wait, what about my car?" he shouted, gesturing at the wreck.
"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, not turning around. "I can walk from here."
"But…you…" he sputtered at her back. Finally, he threw his arms up. "Fuck!" he shouted, kicking the nearest tire, then swinging his foot around, trying to find a corpse to kick. "You stupid angels!" he shouted. "What, did you think my car wasn't enough of a piece of shit already?"
xxxxxxx
The Gates of Hell had few customers: namely, one. Bayonetta sauntered up to the counter, taking her usual seat. Rodin appeared from behind the counter, a drink in hand. "Good to see you, girl. So what'll it be?"
"Depends," Bayonetta replied, twirling the three halos she had acquired from the fight around her finger. "How much will three halos get me?"
"From anyone else, they'd get a stern look and directions to the exit," Rodin replied, snatching them. "You, I don't think you'll have any trouble with paying your tab."
"In that case, I'll take a vodquila," she said.
"My, my," Rodin said, grabbing the necessary bottles. "In a hurry to get drunk today, huh?"
"That's what I'm here for."
Rodin passed the shot glass her way. "And here I thought it was for my sparkling personality," he sparred.
"You'd better not have anything sparkling in here," Bayonetta retorted. She downed the shot in a single swig, then placed it on the table with a clack. "Second verse, same as the first."
"Now hold up there, girl," Rodin said. "I'd like to get in a few words while you can still respond in complete sentences."
"What's there to say?" she asked. "Yesterday rolls into today, rolls into tomorrow. No big action, no big fights, just mortal business."
"Word on the street is the little fights aren't grabbing your interest anymore, either."
She held up the shot glass. "Loosen my lips, and I'll tell you why."
Rodin tsked at her, but he did as she asked. Once the glass had been filled and emptied, she began to talk.
"Have you ever heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results?" she asked.
Rodin nodded. "Never made much sense to me," he said.
"Well, call me insane, because I've been killing the same angels over and over, and something different has happened," she said. "I've gotten bored."
Rodin nodded. "Happens to everyone. It's called a job."
"Yeah, well I'm pretty damn sick of this job," she said, pushing the shot glass forward imploringly. "I don't see them giving up any time soon – I'm sure trying to kill me is the most fun any of them have. So what's a witch to do?"
He shrugged. "Get a hobby," he suggested.
She snorted. "Like what? Collecting stamps? Catching butterflies?"
"Gee, lady, does he have to solve all of your problems?" said a voice from behind. She turned and looked at the new visitor.
A young boy with unkempt hair and dark robes walked in the door. As he took the seat next to her, Bayonetta noticed his wings.
"Well, well, you're that Pit fellow," she said. "A long way from home, aren't you?"
He glowered at her. "I'm not Pit," he said. "Don't ever call me Pit."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ah, yes, yes, that whole evil twin business, I forgot. That would make you…Dark Pit? Pittoo?"
"Bless you," he said snarkily. He turned to Rodin. "Give me a double shot of Jager, on the rocks," he demanded.
To Bayonetta's surprise, Rodin pulled out a double shot glass and started pouring. "Rodin!" she scolded. "He's clearly a kid."
"We don't discriminate here," he replied. He somehow fit a couple of tiny ice cubes into the glass, then passed it to Dark Pit, refilling her shot glass shortly after.
"Listen, lady, I may not be as old as you, but I'm not a kid," Dark Pit said, pointing a finger at her.
"Yes, of course, how could I possibly make that mistake," she said, looking him up and down. She spotted a sleeve on his left arm, a dark maroon in contrast with his otherwise black robes. "I like that little accessory," she said, gesturing at it. "Very fashionable."
He jerked his arm away, as if she had slapped it rather than praised it. "Thanks," he said sarcastically.
He took a sip of his shot, then spat it out. Rodin had long since moved out of the way, clearly having anticipated this.
Bayonetta tried not to chuckle, but she did anyway. She drank her own shot, then grabbed his glass and emptied it as well, slamming them both down on the bar.
"You're here to talk Smash, aren't you, child?" she said. "Well, if you were hoping to convince me to come by drinking me under the table, I hope you have a backup plan. Or a taller table."
"I don't even care if you come," Dark Pit said, glaring down into the bar. "That stupid Palutena just sent me here because, just because I don't have anything else to do, I must want to run her errands, right?"
Bayonetta nodded. "That's the thing about gods," she said, patting him on the head, a gesture he immediately batted away. "Everyone's their pawn. Still…it might be nice to see her again."
"Yeah, yeah," he said. "She's real great, whatever." He put a hand to his chin, trying to remember the entirety of Palutena's message. It was, in fact, a mirror image of a pose Pit often took, though thankfully nobody pointed this out to him. "She said something about…having a spare chainsaw? Whatever the hell that means."
Her eyebrows arched, and her lips curved upwards in a broad smile. "Did she, now? Well, she really knows me, it seems." She stood up. "All right, boy, you've convinced me. I'm in." She turned to the bar. "One more for the road, Rodin."
Rodin quickly poured her another, much more forthcoming now that he knew it would be her last. "Have fun, girl," he said, sliding the shot across the bar.
Dark Pit stood as well. "Well, ain't that fan-fuckin-tastic," he said. "My job's done, I'm outta here."
He headed for the door, with Bayonetta close behind. "Yes, lead the way, child," she said, sinking her last shot.
"Pfft, as if," Dark Pit said. "I'm not going back there just for her to boss me around."
"Well, that's hard luck for you, love," she replied, taking his wrist. "I need a guide. Besides, if I didn't come back with you, Pal would have my head. She's actually rather fond of you, you know."
"I don't care!" he shouted, squirming and trying to get out of her grip. "I don't wanna go back to her. Now let go of me, you old hag!"
She chuckled. "Hag, is it? Fair effort, little angel, but if you want to piss a witch off, you'll have to do better than that."
"I'm not an angel!" Dark Pit protested, his voice growing more petulant with every word. "I'm a…I'm a…not an angel!"
"Semantics, child."
As Bayonetta passed the threshold, she tossed her empty shot glass behind her head. It twirled through the air, landing atop a stack of shot glasses with a ping. "Ta-ta, Rodin. See you when I see you."
Seeing her feat, Rodin smiled. "She's showing off again," he said to himself. "That's a good sign."
