Chapter XXIV:
Eye for an Eye
Benny
"Benny, we need to talk."
I took my nose outta my shot glass and there lo-and-behold was a vanilla folder. You know, like in them old spy movies, dig? I took one look at it, kinda expecting For Your Eyes Only across its band, and then up at Swank.
"What's this?"
"You asked me to dig up whatever information I could on our courier. So, I went along our chain of contacts and they faxed me what they could find."
The look in his eye… was like me when I saw our mailman walkin' and talkin' like the nines I'd put in him didn't even phase the son of a bitch. Now that made me feel extra-kinda icy and not like the ones I got in my shotglass.
"C'mon," I grinned, "how bad could it be?"
"Open it."
He pushed the folder my way, and I took it. I mean, seriously. How bad could this cat—
"Oh boy."
First thing that came when I opened it was a grainy black and white photo, and by the feel, fresh off the prints. Six folks in all; four men and two gals, all posing like them soldier-boys always do in shot like this, dig? And right in the center kneeling was our man… our Gideon Maddox. So, he didn't always look like a one-eyed caveman, eh? Now that's somethin'.
"Notice the uniforms they're wearing?"
"Mmm hmm."
Couldn't see clear cause of the granulation, but I knew it right off. Loose tan fatigues with subtle camouflage like they could blend right-away into the foreground, see? And I said tan, not brown. Plus, the web-belts, sack-packs and…
"Boonie's and scarfs... ah, what the hell they called? They got some weird name."
"Shemagh. Yes-Man told me. Apparently originated in the Persian Gulf."
"The where?"
"Sorry. Point is, the Army of old got to wearin' them in the Gobi Desert. Being their descendants, well… guess it's tradition in a sense."
I gave him a look, but I nodded anyway. Still felt like a pure-plain bonehead. I'm supposed to be better than this. Cat was wearin' both when I capped him. Why didn't I see it before?
"So our boy was a browncoat, eh? When was this taken?"
"Try where. My contacts tell me Edwards Air Base."
"You're kiddin'. You mean when they took on those Tin-can Zealots back in '65?"
"And won. Keep readin'."
And so I did. Like readin' the greatest frickin' hits of some bigshot action star, dig? Like Marty Robbins, or Wayne or somethin' else. Salt Lake City, Zion, Grand Mesa, Flagstaff, The A-Bee-Que, Denver… man, this fuckin' list goes on. Guess I shouldn't be surprised… something though caught my eye.
December, 2270.
"Willow Creek."
Swank nodded, but somethin' bugged me right off the mark.
"I thought they all got taken over by—"
"Not all of them. Some struck it south, kept fightin' the Legion up till I guess '75."
"Why '75?"
"Cause that's when our boy entered the employment of one Orville Wright."
"Wright? You mean The Orville Wright?"
"The same."
"Well, what the hell was doin' up there?"
"Officially? Guy was somekinda broker."
"Unofficially?"
"Guy was a cleaner."
He handed me another folder. This one… dunno why, but it felt colder. Now I'm getting' the hibby-jibbies and that don't happen often, lemme tell you. And in a minute, I found out why.
"Cat's… very thorough."
New Reno's not known for their meticulous record-keepin'… but if I know Mafioso's, then I know I'd like to keep taps on our go-to Jean Reno. I went through files after files, photos of fools and crooks capped. Thing that was constant though? Places acting as the backdrop where frickin' fortresses, but there they were. Dead on the ground with a hole through their foreheads.
"Well, this is truly distrubin', Swank. Don't think I'll be sleeping tonight."
"I did find something else interestin', though."
"What, more interesting than we got a frickin' Terminator in our midst?"
"It's interesting because one of the families this guy wacked happens to live in Freeside."
I turned the page, and I saw what he meant. Took me a minute to put 'em together, see? But I did just when I saw a familiar face. Younger by about a decade, and her hair… wow. Never thought I'd see an afro like that. But her eyes, jeez.
"Always had a mean streak, huh?"
He nodded.
"So, who got wacked, then?"
Gideon
I didn't know when I woke, or if I was even awake. All I could see was darkness, but not just darkness. Pure blackness. Not even the pitch of night was like this. That was the first thing that got me worried.
I tried to move, but my body felt stiff like a board. The effort of trying made me feel a tad nauseous, enough that I was tempted to puke. I fought the urge, but the feeling caused me to lean forward. That was when I felt it: I couldn't move forward. I couldn't feel my arms, or my legs, but I literally couldn't lean forward any further.
I'm in a chair. That sudden realization brought with it a creeping pain in the back of my head, and with that the sudden feeling of my brain submerged in water. Every little movement caused it shake and stir; making the dull ache in the dark, dank background growing hotter and fierce, like pin-needles stabbing into my brain. So, I stopped moving and I went over what I knew. I was in a chair, and I couldn't move: so that meant I was tied up with something, but what?
I tried to get my hands to move, but all I got was numbness. Okay, if I was numb like that, I had to have been here at least thirty minutes. Next, I was only seeing darkness, so that meant I was probably blindfolded. And fuck, why is my head is starting to hurt like a mother—
Wait. Why was I tied up? Then I remembered. Remembered the woman, the pistol in my face… Boone. That thought sent me jolting. I practically tried to jump out of my seat, and my brain felt like it collided with top of my skull going 60 miles an hour.
"Fuck…" I groaned as my brain burned so hotly I had to fight tooth and nail not to release everything in my stomach. But it didn't work. It was coming up and it was not stopping. So I craned my head, trying to avoid my legs, and let it go. Shoulder though felt wet and hot for a long minute, and by the end the right side of my face felt absolutely crusty. But on the plus side, my pain had gone back down to being an aching sonovabitch, instead of a stabbing mother—
"Gid?"
I stopped. The voice had come behind me, to my left.
"Cass?" I craned my head around to that side, perking my ears to listen to anything moving, "That you?"
"Yeah," she replied, sounding strained, like she was hurting, "I'm here… you know where we are?"
"I have an idea. Anybody else here?"
"Guys, I think I've been kidnapped!"
Judging by the slight hysteria in the voice, I'm guessing that Veronica.
"You think?" that'd be Boone, nobody else has a grizzled voice like that. He groaned almost as badly as me, cursing softly, "Goddamn it. I haven't felt this bad since basic."
"Boone, what the hell happened?"
He didn't answer at first. He waited a long while, but eventually I could hear him turning in his seat. The shift in his tone told me that he was resisting the urge to yell at me. And only just barely.
"Why don't you tell me?"
"Boone, all I remember is waking up face first on the floor."
"Bullshit," he growled, "I heard you talking."
"And I can't remember!" I growled back. But I knew he was right, and besides, we won't get out of here alive if we tear each other's throats out first. So, I sighed, and scaled back my tone, "Boone, I got up from something nobody should've. So, I need you to work with me here. What exactly happened?"
He was silent again. But eventually he sighed, and answered me:
"You were talking. Loud, too. Not to me, but someone. Then you got up, and walked into the room. Tried to stop you, but you fell over and took me with you. Got hit over the head after that."
I sighed, feeling like I was going to sink through the floor. God, I'm so fucking stupid.
"I'm sorry, man. I mean… fuck, here I am giving you shit about your problems and I'm getting us in the deep end."
"Yeah, yeah," Cass snorted quietly, "fuckin' poetry and all that. But could we fuckin' solve our issues after we get outta here?"
"Point taken. Wait, how'd you two end up here?"
"Turns out our swindler brought backup," Veronica replied, chuckling softly, "guys came out of the woodwork, must've been a hundred of 'em!"
"Girlie, there weren't a hundred of 'em. There were barely ten."
I swear I could feel V smirk as she replied cheekily:
"Still kicked half their respective asses."
"If you did," Boone countered, "you wouldn't be here."
"Fine, fine. So, we didn't kick their asses. Anyhoo, any ideas on how to get out of here?"
"Well, for one," I tired moving again. Still a bit stiff, but I don't feel sea sick doing so, so I guess that's a plus, "anybody know what we're being tied up with?"
"My guess would be somethin' metal," I could hear Cass moving, grunting as she did, "ropes are bad fer this sorta thing. Can jimmie your way out if ya know what you're doin'."
"Yeah," Veronica replied, "I can feel something cold around my wrists. But I can't move though."
"Try," Boone answered, "we've been sitting here long enough to be numb. Keep moving your limbs. Wake them up if you can."
I took that advice, shifting left and right while I rotated my hands.
"By the way, how long you guys been awake?"
"I think I woke up first," Veronica replied, "what's it matter?"
"Well, did you hear anything?"
"No… well, I think I heard talking, but it was muffled. Like trying to listen through a pillow."
"Yeah," Cass replied, "and the air tastes kinda funny. Like metal. Plus, it's cold, too."
"Basement would be my guess," Boone commented, then I heard him moving again, grunting and straining as he did, "can you move your chairs?"
I tried, but it didn't seem to be moving. However, I was starting to get feeling back in my legs, so I started moved my feet around. I hit something, came over the top. I came over it again, slowly. From the sound of it, and the tug on my boot heel, it felt like something sharp.
"Shit. I think we're bolted down."
"Well that fuckin' complicates things."
"Ah, c'mon chipper up, guys," Veronica laughed, "can't be any worse, could it?"
"It is," Boone grunted, "guys who got us are the Van Graffs."
"Ah, shit," Cass cursed.
"Is that bad?"
"Oh, it's bad, girlie. Tangoed a couple times with 'em. Fuckin' mean as hell, and I've heard some weird ass stories 'bout 'em, too."
"What kind of stories?"
"Like Pagan sacrifice kinda weird."
"Well, certainly fits the mood," she chuckled, "and I'm certainly dressed for the occasion. So, wait, if that guy said Pacer—"
"Don't," I growled, "don't say another word."
"What? Why?"
"No, Gid's right. Been in this situation 'fore. Fuckers probably waitin' outside for one of us to peep and say something they need. Why else do you think we ain't in a ditch somewhere?"
"Shh," Boone interrupted, "someone's coming."
I heard it too. Footsteps. A few seconds later and something sounding like a door opening rang through the cold air. Then a voice. The woman:
"Very clever, Ms. Cassidy. Then again, I'm not surprised considering how long you've been in this game."
"Ah shit. Gloria Van Graff."
"The same."
Fingers suddenly wrapped around my head. The blindfold came off and with it a bright, burning light. I groaned, squinting my eye until it could be adjusted. Then there she was. Staring at me with eyes like a rattlesnake; almost hypnotizing me to the spot. Her face… it was almost impossible to read, like a plastic mask.
She looked me over; craning her head, studying me. Then she smiled softly:
"Even after all these years… you still have that look."
"Um, what?"
But she brushed past me, running her fingers over my shoulder, speaking aloud to everybody in the room:
"You have meddled into an affair you have no part in, and you have acquired information we desperately require. And time is unfortunately of the essence. So, it is not a matter of if you'll talk, or even when, but how much you stand to lose if you do not."
"You kiddin'?" Cass growled, glaring up at her, "We know your fuckin' game. We talk, and we die. Simply as that."
She smiled. A smile so innocent it contradicted the sudden flash of sadistic malice in her eyes before they were submerged under a cool visage. She then cupped her hand over her cheek, running her finger over and through the loose tendrils of scarlet hair.
"Yes. Yes, you will die, Ms. Cassidy. Especially you," she looked over at me, smiling, turning to look over the rest of us, "but as I said, you have so much more to lose than just your lives."
Then she reached behind Cass's head and yanked off her band. Her hair flowed over her shoulder, and Gloria's eyes shot with glee.
"Beautiful… so beautiful," she traced her finger over her cheek, and Cass bucked away, glaring coldly. She just chuckled softly, "Jean would certainly like to take his time with you."
"He can fuckin' try," she smirked.
"Yes," she laughed, "and that is exactly why he won't. Not today at least."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Veronica shouted. She stared at her puzzled, like she was seeing her for the first time. But she smiled, and walked across to her. I tried again at my bonds, moving just slightly, but then the gleam of a silver-edged pistol found itself pointed down at somewhere I rather it wasn't.
I relaxed, and it withdrew.
"It means, quite simply, that we are… shall we say, experienced at this sort of thing? See, we know how men react to pain. Even how differently women do as well. But we also know how a group of people can have a resolve no single one could. See, torture one, and the rest will simply… harden. That is why we've learned to specialize our… questioning," she came in front of Veronica, studying her like she did me a minute ago, but… differently. I don't know why… no, I do. I've seen that look before. In the eyes of a predator studying her prey. And that made feel cold. And then she confirmed my suspicions when ran her hands slowly, over V's cheek, down her neck.
It wasn't like Cass. This was intimate. No, a mockery of intimacy. V gasped as her hands reached lower, and lower. Her breath suddenly became staggered, she shook a little and although I couldn't see why from my angle… I had a pretty fucking good idea. Gloria giggled a little, smiling down at her.
"You like that… don't you?"
Veronica tried to move away, squirming further into her seat as she gasped:
"Stop… please…"
"Hmm," she sighed longingly, closing her eyes and smiling inward with a gruesome satisfaction that made my blood boil, "yes… you do. You are so sensitive… and you smell so… fragrant."
"Get away from her," Boone suddenly growled, his eyes shot with such venom that he would've been on her in a heartbeat were it not for the chair. She craned her head, smiling with a huh expression. Then she looked down at Veronica, and that look grew even more to a point of sudden realization.
"Interesting."
She extracted her hand, V gasping as she did. Her fingers glinted against the light. Then she put them in her mouth, licking each one clean with a sickening pleasure.
"Hmm… I think I might keep you, little one," then she looked over at Boone, and she grinned slightly, "both of you, I think."
"Stop."
She looked at me, and over my shoulder I looked at her.
"It's me you want, right?"
She smiled softly, coming over and kneeling before me. Her eyes blazed with an intensity, like I was looking through a peephole into Hell. Could tell that she wanted to do unspeakable things to me… and I don't care.
"These people are only here because of me. Let them go."
"Hmm," she smiled. A sudden shiver of ice water dropped into my system as she ran her hands up my knee, creeping like a sneaky little spider, "what do you offer me in return, Mr. Maddox?"
"Me. You can do what you want with me. But let them go."
She rolled her eyes at me, rising to her feet and snorted at me:
"Predictable. Boring. You really haven't changed. You have nothing to offer me that I don't already have, but you do have things we need."
She then gestured to the goons waiting at the door, and they came walking in. Within seconds, they had the chairs unbolted… except for mine. They then took them. Cass went kicking and screaming, Boone tried to resist but they pulled a gun on V. In another ten seconds, the door shut and I was left alone with the woman.
She advanced on me, and before I could move she plucked a hair from my head.
"Ow! What the hell!?"
"I'm surprised at you, Gideon," she turned her back on me, moving to the end of the room and stopping in front of something, "for all your years spent in New Reno, I would've thought you'd long since learned our rituals."
"Lady, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't know you or what the fuck you're talking about."
"I know."
That stopped me cold. She turned, facing me again.
"The last I saw you, you didn't have bandages. But…" she walked towards me, and dropped a photo in my lap, "I believe you know who he is."
The photo… I'd seen it before. New Reno… Bill Cosby in his dying days.
"Yes… you do know him, don't you?"
"Tulius Van Graff."
"Yes, my uncle. My sweet, duped uncle. How the man would do anything for his sweet little niece," she leaned over me, her hands resting on the arms of my chair, "anything. I was sixteen when you came to the Van Graff estate. When you so cleverly disposed of our guard… so professional. Then you came to our room."
I was remembering. The white walls, and crimson floors. The door opening… a bedroom.
"You were there."
"Yes… I watched from under the bed, you and your grisly work. How you put the razor to his throat… it took days to wash away the blood."
She then rose from the chair, moving back to her previous position at the end of the room:
"When Mama drove you from New Reno, I'd thought I'd lost you forever. I wanted the opportunity to take what is mine from you."
"How you going to do that? Talk me to death?"
"No," she smiled, "I have something better in mind."
She then pulled away a cloth cover, and what was there made my stomach drop. A cryptic altar, complete with dark icon and pictographs, rows upon rows of candles… and a bowl right in the middle.
"I've been preparing for this day for a long time, Mr. Maddox. Of course, I had to make some modifications, but I feel it fits you perfectly."
I had a bad feeling I knew what she was talking about. She then pulled the bowl, and began tossing in ingredients. Things of dark rituals and witchcraft. She began chanting loudly in Creole French, bobbing and dancing as one by one the candles combusted. There was a sudden stirring in the air, like a draft had found its way in.
Then she drew a knife, and cut her hand; squeezing the blood into the bowl. Finally, she dropped my hair into the mix and there was a sudden puff of scarlet smoke. The smell of incense felt heavy. It made me almost want to gag. Then I saw it as she plucked it from the bowl along with a pin.
It was a rag doll, but of me. I smirked as I laughed in her face:
"Lady, you do realize Voodoo's bullshit, right?"
"Is that right?"
She then drew the needle, closing with the bandaged side of the dolls face. My stomach suddenly tightened, and I started working at my bonds as she came closer and closer.
"Now wait a second! Just wait a second!"
"Time to pay the bill, Mr. Maddox."
She then jabbed the needle into the eye. But I wasn't here. I wasn't sitting here in this chair, in some dark and dank torture room. Instead, though the roar of chaos and blood-chanting crowds amid an air of ecstatic fervor, I felt something coming way through the sand. Steps so heavy that they seem to drag the world with them upon every crash upon the ground.
I felt the shadow upon and over me; drowning me in its ever-consuming mass. My body felt weak, blood flowing down me upon the ground enough that it pooled into its own separate entity. I wanted to run. I wanted to escape this coming monster, but I was rooted there: like ironclad chains holding me. Helpless.
Then a hand bigger than my face took me by the head, lifting me far above the ground. The omnipresent mass before was indiscernible, blocking the sun in its sheer size and draping itself in shadow. But the voice, with a bass so thick it was the echo of a war drum, cut through the air and paralyzed me to the rhythm of the shifting sands.
"It shall end in blood, Gideon."
Then in the seconds ticking down in slow-motion, I saw it. I saw the thumb shadowing my left eye. And then I felt it crush it like a grape. And in that moment… the searing, unending flames that ripped and tore at my flesh became my reality. Hot blood and matter drank through my skin, running down the sides of my face until I began to drown in it.
And before long, I slipped under the surface; the weight pulling me further and further down into that cavernous place until the light disappeared and all that was left was a world on fire. And in it… all I could do was scream.
Cass
"Get the fuck offa me, you mother—"
"Shut your fuckin' mouth, bitch," the big black bastard hissed in my ear, yankin' me 'long and off the fucking floor like I was some...
"Oh God."
They'd dragged me to 'nother room. It was small, mebbe only a couple feet across. Fuck, it was more like a fuckin' cold dark box than a room! No, this can't be happening!
"That's right," the fucker smirked at me, "word is you don't like tight spaces. Had this made just for you."
"No!" I started kickin' and bitin' and fuckin' clawing at anything as they dragged me closer to that death trap, "No! For fuck's sake, no!"
"In you go, you ginger bitch!"
No! Oh fuck, no! This can't be happenin'! Don't fucking close that door! Please, don't!
I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see. I couldn't fuckin' see shit! There was no light, it was fucking darker than night. Even night has stars, has moon, has light. This was fuckin' pitch black!
Where the fuck is the light!? Oh, God, no please! I scrambled for the door, clawin' my way. It was closed, and I end up smashing my head against it. I clawed at the walls.
I threw my weight at it, but nothing seemed ta budge! I was fucking runnin' at all the walls, tryin' find an exit. There had to be somethin', anything! Everything started getting' hot! Oh God, why is it so hot in here!?
I threw myself at the walls. I didn't know where the fuckin' door was!
"Let me out!" I screamed. I tried to move but the walls were closing in. I couldn't move without hitting something! Oh God, the walls are moving! No, get away from me!
"Let me out! Let me the fuck out!"
Where the fuck is that door!? I need that door!
"Let me out! LET ME—"
My chest was hurtin': my lungs were on fire! I couldn't breathe! Why couldn't I breathe!? I bent over… something was grabbin' at my chest! Something was stepping on it!
Crushing… I can't… I… can't. I need to get out! Where the fuck is that stupid exit!?
"Wait!" I suddenly heard someone shoutin'… Oh God, Gideon! "Just wait a second—"
Then the screamin' starting. Oh god, the screams! It was like he was gettin' ripped open! The screams were coming from everywhere; everywhere I turned, those fuckin' screams were right in my ears! Oh God, why am I so cold… No, shut up! Please shut up!
I could hear 'em all now. Everybody screaming! I opened my eyes… and I wasn't here. I was somewhere burnin'! Everywhere I looked, everything was burning!
Everything was smolder and char and ash everywhere. Bodies… no, not them!
Where were you!?
You left—
You fuckin' cowardly bitch! You—
You fuckin' left us to die!
"No!" I clutched my hands over my ears. Oh God, please no! "I'm sorry… No, leave me alone!"
Rose?
I opened my eyes… the voice… no! Why her!? Why!?
Rose, where were you?
I didn't wanna open my eyes. I didn't wanna fuckin' see. But something made me do it. Something told me to do it. So I did… an' there she was, like she was all those years ago.
"Vanessa?" I sobbed, feelin' my voice turn in ta a fuckin' child, "I'm… I'm—"
Sorry? Is that what you were going to say?
She stood over me, scarlet hair blowin' in the wind, jade eyes starin'… glaring. I went over her. Her slender body, boots and jeans and that swede jacket I gave her… then I saw it. The pendent. I reached down, and felt mine.
We were so alike, Rose. I tried to be you, remember?
"Vanessa… Please, I tired… I couldn't get to you."
You abandoned me! She shouted at me, Me! Your own fucking sister!
"Vanessa—"
You destroy everything you touch, Rose! You hear me!? Everyone! Just like Gideon in there!
I could hear him again… screaming. Like dogs were ripping into him. Pain… just pure fuckin' pain.
You got us all killed, Rose! All of us!
"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"
I threw my fist at her—
"Gah! Fuck!"
I clutched at my hand, throbin' like a sonovabitch. I couldn't hold it back. I felt like a fuckin' lake. I felt like I was sinking. The screaming just kept coming. I buried my face in my knees, tryna drown it all out.
But it just wouldn't go away… it never would.
"Please… just leave me alone…"
Veronica
"You hear that, don't you? You can hear them screaming?"
I could and I did. I… never felt this helpless since Helios… why does the universe hate me so much? Why do all the people I care for have to get taken away from me? Who's the sick, sadistic piece of trash prankster behind the curtain doing this all to me? Because if there is one, and when I find him, I'm gonna do some many things that I haven't even thought out yet!
"Leave her alone."
The large black man then turned from me. They were strapping something to Boone. They ripped open his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest… and they were strapping something… Oh God.
"Was I talkin' to you?"
He slugged him, the crack so echoed and resonating that I cringed in my seat. He walked away from him, a big welt on his cheek… but he was grinning. He spat out a slew of blood and chuckled:
"That all you got?"
"Oh, if this was any other day, I'd show you. See," he turned around, looking at me like that woman did when she… well, I don't wanna think about it, thank you. But too late. I already felt it and this big giant ape was making me feel queasy. He leaned in closer, and closer, looking like he was going to do to me what I thinking in the back of my head was going to happen. And looking up at him, he was beyond tempted. He was practically undressing me with those big, scary eyes of his, "it's not you, tough guy, that I'm going to break. And you," he ran a hand through my hair, grabbing me by the neck, making me feel as cold like I was skinny-dipping in some fashionable swimming pool and somebody threw ice in after me, "I don't even have to touch you."
He raised a hand—
"No!" I screamed, but it didn't matter. They flipped a switch and Boone was hit with voltage. He spasmed and convulsed, spittle foaming at his mouth as he jolted up towards the ceiling. The lights around us flickered on and off like in some freaky horror movie. But… the smell…
His hair was singeing. The air filled got mixed up in a disgusting stench pie of that and of ozone I thought I left behind at the Bunker. But everything he felt… every ounce of pain… made me feel hopeless. Made my guts feel like they'd been ripped open and the big gooey insides were being squeezed and pulled like some mad circus crew.
And amid all this… all I could do was bend my head and weep. But I guess I couldn't have that either. Fingers lifted my chin and I found myself staring into eyes so popped with glee… I knew in my heart they were crazy with pleasure.
"See, I ain't doing this. You are. Your friends? All the pain they're getting? All cause of you. But you can fix that. Tell us what we need to know, and all this will go away."
"Don't," Boone growled.
"Again."
God… I've never prayed to you before. I never felt the need, but I know you're real now. I know you're listening. So please, I beg you… help us.
Raul
"So, Beatrix, mi amor de mi vida—"
"Oh, layin' it on thick, are we?"
"Thick? I've only begun para aplicar mi procedimiento de tres pasos to winning you back."
"Oh, I see. So bein' a kissass is step number one?"
"Kissass? Beatrix, you hurt me."
"Good."
"No está bien. You disrupt my groove, lo ves? You take away from the quality of my apology and you suffer dearly for it."
"I see your point. So, what's step number two?"
"Well, paso número dos involves me taking you out to un verdaderamente maravilloso where such wondrous things are cooked que hacen que tu boca agua—"
"Dear, my mouth is already watering."
"Ah! Muy bien! Well, as I was saying, such wondrous things that it will llevarnos la mayor parte de dos horas to truly finish."
"Jeez Louis, Raul! What in the hell takes two hours to eat?"
"Ah, that is a surprise!"
"I see. So what's step number three?"
"Well, tres is perhaps the most embarrassing, pero… the most important."
"Oh, I see where this is going."
"You have your ways, Beatrix. And at the end, seré tu rata de laboratorio más dispuesta—"
"No."
"No?"
"That ain't what I want."
"Qué?"
"See, all this time I've been Dom for all, an' lemme tell you somethin'. I'm tired of it. Tired of bein' the dominant force to submissive pansies."
"So… what do you want me to do?"
"Raul, dear," she took me by the neck, smiling, whispering softly En mi oído, "I want you to do to me what you did best in the past. I want to make such passionate love to me that I pass out, lemme tell you."
"Bueno!" I cracked la sonrisa tonta, "Heh… I am little rusty."
"What's a few hours to work out the kinks, eh?"
"Bien… I'll at least get you halfway… and then you'll beg me for more!"
"Pfft, don't you get cocky on me now, you dirty ol' Mexican."
"Oh? Is that a challenge, mi preciosa Texana?"
"Oh, you are such a kissass!"
"Y orgulloso. So, this the place?"
We stopped in front of maldito building. Y when I say maldito, I mean esta pobre excusa de piedra should be condemned! It is crumbling! It is peeling! It is a wonder it can stand upright without swaying, like en esas viejas películas de Monty Python!
But it is a crackhouse. What should you expect?
"Our varmint should be in the basement."
"Does he own the building?"
"No, just the basement."
"Bien. I already had to maniacos de la lucha on a three-story building just yesterday!"
"Wait, what!? Where'd this happen?"
"Boulder City. Had to practically explotar half the damn building."
I then felt la madre of punches in mi hombro!
"Beatrix, would you stop using me como una bolsa de boxeo for no apparent reason!"
She pulled me around, counting down her dedos as she went over her many, many grievances:
"First you get into a fight with abuncha crazy folk with monsters for pets! Then crazy-ass Mutants who think you somekinda toaster fixin' fiend—"
"But I am!"
"Shut your mouth. I ain't finished! Where was I?"
"Uh, Toasters?"
"Oh, yeah, that's right. Then you get into a fight with abuncha Romans! Raul, stop tryna put me to shame, you hear?"
I couldn't resist giving the wiliest, the sliest of mostacho-driven grins! I then threw in some good old melodramático as I gasped! Yes, gasped!
"I thought you loved me for it!"
Aha, it earned a blush! I claim un victoria when I see one. I even rubbed it in, giving her a good whole waggle!
"Just… next time you get into a fight, you come get me."
"Si. So, how are things down there?"
"Honestly Raul," she looked down and down to the lair of los bastardos de vientre Amarillo, "we really should have shotguns for this kinda hog-killing."
"Bien, how many are down there?"
"Dunno, mebbe five or four?"
"Que? Cinco o cuatro? Pick one."
"Well, that's not including ol' Dixon either... I don't think."
"So you're saying there could be cinco o seis desperadoes down there?"
"Yup."
"Si, you're right. We should have shotguns."
So we came up to the front door… bien, digo puerta pero in truth it was like if some slasher película monstruo took an axe to it and nobody bothered to get a new one. The rest of this place… Jesucristo y la Santa María, I thought the streets of San Antonio were malo! The walls had the appearance of the rest of this place. Broken and peeling, partidarios de madera shown through, graffiti… and not even bien pintada!
Mirada, I can stand this trashy excuse for art if it's at least buen arte inútil. At least then, it is art with no taste. Pero esto…
"Beatrix, I propose we go back outside, obtener por lo menos veinte latas de kerosene, light this place up and I take you out para cenar."
She gave me the look of clásica molestia femenina.
"Raul, this ain't frickin' Twosun—"
"Tucson."
"Whatever. People live here."
"Si, well they can go y encontrar un lugar mejor para vivir. Infierno, even a cardboard box is better than this altísima sala de monstruosidad!"
She laughed like un comediante en el Día de San Valentín, and it made me happy for it.
"Raul, I forgot you gotta nasty obsession with lightin' things on fire."
"Pero fuego solves so many issues!"
She gave me los vistazo. If you've ever been with a woman, tú sabes de qué estoy hablando. I sighed, y admitió la derrota. There is a saying in El Paso that I learned in… ah, '67. My '67, tu estrandos?
Never argue with a woman, you'll pay for it later. Well, you can add a Mujeres Texana to that list, tambien.
"C'mon," she grinned, "let's get into character."
Time to let el fantasma out.
Wade
"Wade, I'm tellin' you. We can't do this… not alone, not this time."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing! Who's this and what has she done with the real Illie? I whirled on her, baffled and downright stupefied to a point:
"Since when did you start following orders, Illie?"
She scowled at me, but I honestly couldn't tell if she was doin' it 'cause she meant it, or 'cause she couldn't do much else. But at a length, she went and did what she always does when she's gonna say touché, but isn't going to either. She sighed, closing her eyes and pressed her fingers into them.
"Wade… naa-ciya… I need you to listen to me. Cortez told us not to go kickin' any hornet's nests and this," she pointed up at the building of interest playing backdrop to this particular drama, "this is the shi-ma of hornet nests!"
"Illie," I took her by the shoulders, "there is no time. If we wait for Cortez's approval, which there is very good chance we won't get, they'll be corpses by then."
"And so will we," she brushed my hands off, "the three of us against the crazies in there? We'll be crow's meat before you can say netdahe!"
"We've gone against worse. And we're going to have the element of surprise. After all, wasn't it—"
"If you mention Geronimo," she jutted a finger into my chest, scowling but puttin' on that extra effort of lip-curling and teeth-gnashing like we were doing somekinda Western reenactment (which we have, and she kicks my ass every time), "and I'll hit you on general frickin' principle, you useless brat."
"Let him speak."
Miam about-turned, givin' us both the cold eye with the aviators. Yeah, I know all that about douche-bags wearin' shades at night, but mention it about Miam and they'll taste the heel of my boot. Of which, Illie tried givin' her the ol' glaring-till-you-drop, but Miam invented that game a long time ago. So, after about fifteen seconds… yeah, I kept count… she backed off.
"Wade? You were saying?"
"In this world, the unseen has power."
"Yeah," Illie growled, "fat luck it'll do us in a place like that!"
"Illie, we need to do this. We were given a job, we need to go through with it."
"And I'd rather not end up as a puddle, heyoka."
I smirked, and that drew the killer eyes, the crazy eyes, like she was gonna leap over and make me a sacrifice! Hey, I'll be a handsome sacrifice! So sacrificial that I'll rival Jesus! Okay, I'll stop being blasphemous, but hey, can't help it:
"Comedian, eh? Well, I'll take that as a compliment."
"Never said you were funny, brat. More like funny in the head. Mebbe oughta smack you 'round again, knock some sense into you!"
Sorry, but I can't resist. She's so cute when she's angry. I just grinned and gave her my best come-at-me look:
"Hey, you're welcome to try."
"Why you little—"
"Jesucristo y todos los apóstoles!" suddenly there Miam, popping in like smoke; yanking the both of us close by our shirts as she hissed like those immortalized action stars, "You two argue like niños pequeños! No, worse than that! Una pareja!"
She gave her a look of pure horror. Like she was about to drop dead. Hmm, mebbe I should go get a shovel.
"Couple!? Me with him!? Nakai-ye—"
"Hush, niña," she shushed her the very classic Miam way, finger on Illie's lips, "for once, niños, be silent and listen to your elders. And that means you, Wade."
She released us, and marched up ahead to stare at the thing causin' so much ruckus. She struck a pose, hand on hip as she brushed her hair aside.
"Miam…" I took the steps until I was at her shoulder, trying to figure out what was going through her head, but hers is a mind I've yet to crack, "What are you thinking?"
She sighed:
"I'm thinking Primero de Enero, back in '78."
"Hoover?"
"After, actually. The battle concluded around the 21st, but of course we Recon still had to clean up the pieces from that cabrón Wait-and-See Oliver," she gritted her teeth, snarling, "we had an opportunity, Wade. An opportunity to end those bastones carmesí once and for all. Reach across the river and…" she clenched her fist, hissin' and mauling like she was getting ready to choke the life out of the invisible proverbial bastard. But I know her. Quick to anger, but as quick to fade. She sighed, removing her shades and rubbing at her eyes, "pero… it was Hanlon's idea. El cabrón being el cabrón, Oliver had us sit on our collective culos when the Legion took Cottonwood. Three days later, on the 22nd, a day after Hoover, they took the town of Nelson and we still did nada jodido."
"So, what happened?"
"Reports started coming. The Legion were using the town to raid the 95. This was before Forlorn Hope was built, tú entiendes? So, Hanlon decided to be Hanlon," she smiled at this, "and sent us in. And we went to work."
"You went after them?"
"Sí, y luego algunos. Our Christmas was spent sending them home in body-bags. Oh, era tan hermoso, Wade," she chuckled and smiled, the twinkle of nostalgia beaming so brightly in her eyes like she was a shooting star. I'd never seen her so happy it was almost frightening… maybe I should go dig my own grave now, "We'd been on the defensive for so long that us picking a fight with them, on our terms? Best regalo de Navidad a humble Captain from Baja could ask for."
"You mentioned New Years," Illie crept up to Miam's flank, her face dark with that old familiar pain, "what changed?"
Then there was something else. Something… murky, like staring into an abyss. And I about fell in as she asked:
"What did the Legion do?"
Miam turned to stare at her.
"I think you already know."
She nodded somberly.
"Ignominia Talio."
"Sorry," I shook my head wearily, "for those of us who skipped out Dead Languages 101?"
Illie gave me what I came to know as gode. And her eyes… the abyss became bottomless. They narrowed, they swelled with a rage only she could've known. The kind of rage built up over years. Swelling under the calm, murky waters, and waitin' to yank me in. So, don't mind me takin' a step back.
She sighed, and just shook her head in a way that just made me feel so damn stupid.
"It means Retaliation. I've only seen it used once… on my people."
I cursed softly, and she only shook her head.
"When they can't beat you, can't kill you… they break you. They'll take captives… men, women… children," she closed her eyes, and for the first time since I've known her… she wept. But she didn't not break. Did not falter. She just kept going, kept speaking. Then I understood.
It was a release.
"The young, the old. Put 'em out front, where you can see 'em. Then they'll start doing…" she stopped again, but Miam gave her a firm grip on the shoulder. She nodded and continued, "They start with whips. Whips with glass and hooks. Rip the flesh off the backs of 'em. Then they'll brand them… over and over again. And if they survive… they'll crucify them. Not with nails, you see. That'll be too quick. You die from blood loss. So instead, they'll tie your hands off, pull them over your head, make 'em loose enough that you hang just enough. It… pulls at your body. Makes it hard to breathe. Forces you to try and keep upright. The strong can keep up for a while, days even. But others… others who can't? They eventually… choke."
I nodded solemnly. I was driven beyond belief to walk the steps, take her in my arms. But I didn't. It's not her way. And it was not mine, either.
"Did you… mercy them?"
Miam nodded slowly, she then turned to look back at the Lion's Den.
"There were so many dead and dying that day that la infantería accompanying us gave the Legion Commander a nickname. They called him... Dead Sea."
She turned back to us, the pain so heavy in her eyes it was like looking at a great big wall of it. She shook her head softly, and in the darkness, I could see her tears.
"Those people died because we did nothing until it was too late," she wiped away at her eyes, sighing as she eyed Illie and then me, "We have orders, yes. But we also have lives in our hands as well. And because of it… we have a choice to make."
"I've made mine," I replied, eyeing 'em up squarely, "and I'll do it alone if I have to."
"No," Miam smiled at me, "you won't."
I looked at Illie, and she just shook and chuckled:
"Well, it I don't, everybody's gonna think I'm a gusano. Besides, somebody's gotta watch your ass, you big, dumb, sentimental brat."
I could only smile at her.
"I'll take that as a compliment. Now, it's time to serve some badguys a platter of pure asskicking, donchya think?"
Miam laughed so hard I was think I was gonna have me a fresh pair of lungs in my hands. She just shook her head:
"Niño, you can be so damn corny at times."
"Hey," I smiled back at them, "it's all part of my charm."
Raul
I drew La Mano Izquierdo de Dios as we came to the door, Beatrix with her Ruger Vaquero. We pressed our orejas respectivas to the wood y escuchó. Voices inside, moving around like ratas pequeñas. Heh, someone call in un exterminador?
Tres, I point left.
Two on mine, she signaled back, break, you, sweep left, me, sweep right.
I nodded, and drew La Mano Derecho de Dios to match his brother. Beatrix gave me a look:
You ready?
I smiled.
Nacido Listo.
She smiled back, her eyes mendigar to take me.
Welcome home.
Good to be home.
I counted down.
Uno.
There was movement. Desperados were moving. Dos left… no tres. Uno desperado moved across room. One center. Could hear a chair gemido.
Dos.
"Hey Dixon, when we sendin' our shipment up town? Big Sal's getting' anxious with this stuff going out so damn late!"
"Not my problem," could hear him now. Rough, cocky… voz que pertenece a una cara que sólo una madre podría amar. Good to know, "mebbe if Sal's kept good on his side with them Khan's, we wouldn't be growin' our own stuff, now would we?"
Tres.
Mi bota went to the door y estalló into un mil pieces! I rushed inside, Los Manos de Dios hungry for desperado almas!
"Knock Knock!"
These desperados just about mierda sus pantalones. I took a relish in seeing their solo realización of the impending perdición standing before them. Eyes bulging, a punto de pop como uvas! I heard Beatrix move in mi derecho, Ruger hammer cocked. Dios… I've missed this!
"Room Service! Reach for the skies, boys, or I'll put new holes in your heads!"
Y so they did. There were cinco in total, tres on my end and dos on Beatrix, all dressed up en latex y bubber, más gas-masks! Que? Then I looked behind them, past el hojas de plastic and other furniture. Then I saw it, the compression máquinas, the rows of rows of little inhaler bottles, las bandejas y what was growing on those trays. I could see the usual: la setas, Peyotes… then I looked at their guantes de goma, y la brown smear.
"So," I grinned at them, "what's cooking, eh?"
I already knew. Lo ves, the production of Jet requires many things, but critical is of course mierda, y not just any mierda. Brahmin, y Brahmin solo. I'm not entirely sure why, pero I think it has something to do with el tracto digestivo y the chemicals that got fed to their ancestors and end up inserted in said mierda during… well, tú entiendes. Pero, I think too much.
"Who the fuck are you guys?" one of the cooks on her end barked. Beatrix chuckled, pressing her Ruger into his nose:
"We're the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. And we're here for your boss. Where is he?"
Esos dos had been getting out their suits when we came in, so besides su cara giving it away so plainly with his shaking y océanos worth of sweat y sus ojos about to pop, you could also see he needed a change of pantalones. Then I heard movement from the lab. Footsteps. I gestured with Los Manos de Dios, and they moved over. As they did, un sies hombre came through the flaps, stopping at the door.
"Right here, Beatrix. I was wonderin' when that bitch do-gooder would work up the gal to come get me."
Beatrix smiled, el aspecto de un asesino en her eyes:
"Ah, Dixie ol' boy. You never could get ahead could you? Nah, you had to start sellin' to kids, too. What, all the usual suspects got tired of y'all's brew?"
He chuckled behind his mask, making him sound un poco loco, a little desvío:
"Didn't you hear? It's flu season," he removed la mascara, revealing a truly disgusting yellow face with un mustache so slimy, quería dispararle en principio. In truth, he looked as he was. Un poco rata, "All I'm doin' is providing the meds. Ain't my fault if the little bastards have issues with it."
"Ah," I gestured with La Mano Izquierdo de Dios to la granja de mierda behind, "but you're not just making medicine."
"Well," he shrugged, "gotta make the bills somehow."
Then I saw it. From the sudden shift in the air, Beatrix felt it tambien. It was little movements in the elbows, ojos darting a little downward, flickering back up when I looked. Pero el final de la pista came when I saw them shift their pies un poco, like they're going to bolt like poco ratas. That's okay, though.
I'm un gato grande… y I'm hungry for poco , why not give them a little motivation eh?
"I know what you're thinking."
They all looked at me extrañamente, el pequeño ratas, and then at each other. I smiled, walking un poco.
"See, you're thinking 'there are five of us', I'm not counting you, Dixon, 'and only two of them. And plus, ones a little old... geezer.' You would say geezer, right?" I shrugged, Los Manos de Dios a little light en las manos. Pero yo soy el Director, ves? And these pequeño ratas are my audience.
"'So, surely, we can get to our stashed away guns conveniently placed somewhere all so close by!'" I grinned, and gave la mirada de un zorro a mi cariño Beatrix, who could only grin ah so subtly back.
"And why the fuck are you tellin' us all this?" El Rey Rata smirked, crossing arms all duro hombre and all that, "Think we can't?"
"No," I chuckled. I gave Beatrix el guiño, and she holstered her Ruger. Well, not before giving es el giro clásico as any proper gunfighting vaquera should! I turned back to them, and my smile soared with los sonidos de la clásica guitar strums that set the scene. All I needed now was un cactus sueltos to come rolling in.
"No, what I'm saying is… you have to ask yourselves one question."
"And what question is that?"
I looked up from mi sombrero, and smiled:
"Do I feel lucky?" Los Manos de Dios went to their holsters, and my hands out. Then I channeled that scene, that moment of when hombres must be hombres. And while I am un imitación pálida to that truest hombre, I do take pride in channeling his spirit. So, my eyes squinted narrow with Ennio Morricone playing in the background, my teeth bared en un snarl, I gave them my gritty declaración:
"Well do you… punk!?"
They were stunned. They looked at each other. And then they hizo lo previsible. They're hands went for them. I could see it unfolding oh tan despacio, their hands soon filled.
Browning, Colt New Service's y S&W Schofield's. I could only smile. Smile as the hands came down, as las pistolas came to bear. No los salvaría. Smile y smile, and shake mi cabeza.
Then my hands touched leather, y Los Manos de Dios feasted. Flash after flash, kick after kick, el sonido gone with only the feeling, y el olor de sulfur, charcoal y potassium nitrate. Then the world came to be. I heard the thumps of bodies upon the floor. I looked up, y través del humo was standing only one, cowering, awe-struck… asustado.
"Did you really have to quote Clint of all frickin' people?"
I grinned at mi querida, mi Rosa Blanca de Texas, twirling her still smoking Ruger Vaquero 'tween fingers until at last they came to rest in her holster.
"I tried being reasonable, Beatrix. I didn't like it."
She could only chuckle. Ah, esa risita, that sparkle in sus ojos… that has been what I've been looking for.
"Who… what are you?"
I turned ah tan despacio y so dramáticamente, Los Manos de Dios in either mano hanging loose, through el valle de los muertos I walked. Until upon el rata, un animal mudo I was. Face to face, un animal mudo leaning far from me upon the table. I simply whispered, my eyes a reflection of my smile drawn so heavy upon lips, mi sonrisa de satisfacción…
"I am El Espíritu de Venganza… the Ghost Vaquero. And you," I gave him a subtle push, "should take a seat."
And so he did. And so I sat across from him, at the head. I sighed as it groaned under my weight… I should have been feeling mi edad, mis huesos groan with effort… I should have felt… old. Pero… I smiled, Los Manos de Dios lain on either side of me upon the table… for I feel young. I looked up, Beatrix coming to me, handing me dos cosas.
I set the first on the table, a Colt New Service. In front, in sight, as I looked up at un animal mudo. As I smiled at him.
"You ever read the Bible, Dixon?"
El escorio gave me a look that I was expecting. Ojos mudos y huecos. Like the man I'd expected him to be. Un animal mudo.
"No," I smiled, taking un poco de placer as I moved the Colt across the table... very slowly. Tanto, that it dragged along and drew widening eyes y un poco más de sudor to that ugly face of his. I stopped, just a little left of him, and drew back my hand. He did nothing. Un animal mudo.
"Of course, why would a man like you... you who sells poison to children, want to be reminded?"
He breathed. Miedo. Yes, yes you are afraid. Y deberías.
"Reminded? Of fuckin' what?"
"Where you will go... when your time is up."
"I..." his eyes looked to the Colt, pero de vuelta a mi. He drew, but he stopped. I could only smile. No eres un hombre... eres un animal tonto, "I ain't ready to die."
"No one is," I spread my arms, siendo teatral and I whispered, "but we all will eventually. It only matters where we go."
He looked at me, the way I wanted him to. El miedo. Seeing me not as I am... pero como el Fantasma.
"Mi abuelo once taught me something," I closed my eyes. I remember... Mi dulce abuelo, y sus palabras... always with me, "it was his favorite passage, you know? They were three, but he considered them one, you understand?"
"What fuckin' passage?"
"Revelations. 21:6 to 8. I am Alpha and Omega. I am your beginning and your end. To you, I shall give the waters of life freely. And those who walk in my path shall inherit this, and they shall be my children. But..." I leaned close, close for enough for him to see mis ojos... mi alma... and what will come for him, "those who wrong their fellow man, shall burn in the lake of fire that is Hell."
I then pushed the Colt all the way to his chest. So close that he could take it, pero como el animal mudo que es... he did nothing. I shall have to make it easy for him. I leaned back. Back and back until all the cards could be his.
Now he saw it. Now he tried. And I let him. I let him move, I let him take that pistol, I let him point it. Let him pull the trigger... and let him stand as un animal mudo when nothing happened.
I simply smiled as my hand let the bullets fall onto the table, clinking one after the other. I smiled at him:
"Now you know how it feels, don't you?"
I saw not el hombre, ni un animal mudo... pero, a face of fear.
"To be... helpless."
I drew my own, and let him see it. See it raised. See it come for him. A ninguna parte para correr.
"Ahora vas a conocer a Dios."
"What?"
"I said," I leaned forward and replied, "time to meet God."
And amid the flash... and chorus... another body on the floor.
Gloria
Yes. Yes. Bleed. Bleed and scream, Gideon. It is music to my ears. Oh, how I've been waiting for so long!
For so… many… years! To take my vengeance upon you! To give you le baiser de la mort. To make you suffer. To hear you scream and scream.
And how I will take pleasure in it. I pressed the needle deeper… digging… splitting, tearing away at the eye on the doll. Tearing away at your eye… well, an eye long since gone. But in the end:
"Un œil pour un œil," I whispered in the tongue of my mother and the mothers before her, "don't you agree, Mr. Maddox?"
The only response he could give were the ones I wanted. The ones I dream for. Never have I heard such beauty than in this, convulsing against the chair as the sea of red flowed and pooled from his left. It became a-flowed, a-drenched. The blood drinking through skin and flesh, as the powers of the effigy granted by la Mère Esprit flowing through me.
Yes… Yes, I can feel it now. The blood granting me my power. Hmm, I could smell it in the air. The pleasure filling me… drinking me. It was so… intoxicating! I could only throw back my head, laughing, my mind swimming… Le sang devenant une partie de moi, oh, le plaisir!
It was greater than a fuck! Greater than mere pleasure! This was vengeance! And it was sweet! The sweet… bubbling… bliss!
"Sang pour le Dieu du sang!"
And this… I granted a release. Pulled away the needle, the stuffing pulling through in puffing white cottons. And he, as much, slumped forward. Breath… so hard to take now. Gasping for it, and only so barely.
Alive… alive for me to please me.
"But that is no surprise," I swept over him, my fingers… dancing along the blood drunk skin… feeling, tasting… hmm, so this is what vengeance tastes… ah…
"You always were strong… I would not be surprised if you could last me… days."
"Uuuuu…"
I heard words. Words! So faint like the winds… I leaned in closer, tasting his blood… running my tongue over the lobe… mounting him. My legs straddling over him as I took his head in my hands, whispering ever so slightly:
"What did you say, le amant?"
He opened his eye, and I saw such fire! Such rage! Such beautiful, dancing wrath! Oh, you would kill me if you could. If… you only could.
"Ah, but it matters not. I will not kill you yet. Not you… not your friends. You… please me. Especially that raven hair cette neige blanche! Oh," I closed my eyes, relishing it, "she responded so intimately! So experienced. And the pain from the man was so sweet—"
"Grraa…"
I look down at him.
"What? What did you say?"
"I… said," he snarled, and then… he smiled? Why is he smiling?
"Vous… oncle… enfoiré!"
I felt such fury that when I struck him, I could feel the chair shift… but when he came back, he grinned. He smirked… a bloody smirk.
"What's… the matter?" he spat out the blood with a ptoo, "Thought… your uncle… do anything for you! What… ashamed now?"
"VOTRE PORC!" I wrapped my hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him while I screamed and screamed, "VOUS CHOISIEZ UN OEIL! I WILL SEE YOU BURN IN THE NINE CIRCLES OF HELL!"
"Hnnn…" he squirmed under my grip, "gg-good… see… you… there… you…"
"What?" I snarled in his face, leaning so close I could feel his hot, putrid breath upon my face. He wriggled and squirmed like le petit loup caught in the snare, tearing at the foot, so vicious in its nature.
"Uncle… fucker!"
Fire consumed me! Je suis devenu le feu! I could feel it! The frenzy! The blood-on-fire as ripped into le petit loup!
I smashed and smashed, tearing and gouging! But… but always… doux mère! Always smiling. He shouted over and over as I sought to hurt him:
"The big bad uncle fucker! Oncle enfoiré! Oncle enfoiré!"
I grabbed the doll and smashed the pin all the way through until I felt the needle prick me on the otherside. His eye shot wide, his mouth agate, scream withheld. He spasmed, shaking beneath me, his head shot back, his eye rolling in its socket! Then he went limp. Limp and his head slumped forward. He did not move.
He did not even flinch when I slapped him across the face.
"Oh Esprit Mère, je suis allé trop loin ..."
The door to the cell opened.
"Mistress! There is a runner from the Crimson Caravan at the front! He says their boss wants to talk to you!"
"Oh pour l'amour de…"
Of course, now she had to come calling. Alas, she has impeccable timing. I moved from my limp plaything, tossing the doll back upon the altar. I could only shake my head. So... disappointing.
Veronica
It'd stopped. For an eternity, I heard them scream, feeling their pain through the walls, feeling it in me! And all I could do was cry! Cry because I was so fucking helpless. Stuck in this chair!
Oh God, what have I done to piss you off so much!?
"You heard it too, huh? Ma douce petite chose?" I heard him whisper in my ear. I… I could feel him touching me now. Softly… running fingers through my hair… he… came in front of me, looking me in the eye, whispering, "He's no longer screaming, isn't he?"
I could hear Cass wailing in the distance. But not Gideon. And I… I heard him the loudest. Heard him scream like blades were ripping into him! The I heard him shout! Curse in… in the same language as this… monster sitting in front of me.
"You know what that means… don't you?"
I could only look away. Look and try to be as far as I could. Be in a place where dreams went to golden palaces and grew into something beautiful. But then I felt ice cold hands taking hold of me, yank me back… back to cold eyes ripping through my soul.
"Listen, petit," he snarled at me, "listen! Listen to that silence! Listen to it! That silence is because of you!"
No, I mouthed. He then grabbed me by the jaw, his fingers digging into my mouth.
"Yes. My sister is not a kind woman! And your friend? She has been wantin' to take from him his weight in flesh for years! She knows no mercy! But you? You could have stopped it!"
Please, I mouthed again. He then yanked me over. Over to look at Boone, screaming and shaking in the chair as convulsed, the foam a moat around his mouth, his body burning with smoke! It went on for minutes… minutes as the lights flickered, as his silhouette burned itself into the wall.
Then they stopped. He fell into his seat. He… he was barely breathing!
"You see?" I felt him whisper in my ear, "I on the other hand, know mercy. I am le plus proche chose que vous avez à un ange you have right now. So tell me somethin'. How many friends are you gonna watch die till you find the guts? Till you tell me what I need to know?"
Boone looked up at me… his face… Oh God, it was like looking at a skeleton. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. So, he shook his head slowly, his eyes hard as stone. He was telling me not to. But… if they hit him again… it would kill him! Oh God, please no!
"I see," he got up again, raising his hand, "again."
"NO!" I screamed, "No, please! Please stop! Please! I'll tell you anything! Just stop!"
He lowered his hand, smiling down at me.
"Tell me the truth. And only the truth."
"Okay! Please just don't—"
"Does the King know anything? Did your people tell him anything?"
I… I didn't know. I didn't know what the others had gotten up to. I didn't know anything! But I knew if I told them that… I reach inside myself, pulling at my inner actress… and lied like my life depended on it:
"No. He doesn't know anything! I swear!"
He smiled at me again.
"Good. Good. See, that wasn't so hard."
Suddenly the door slammed open.
"Sir! We gotta a runner from…" he looked at me and quickly changed his mind about something, "our partners. She wants to talk to you and your sister!"
He sighed, and shook his head. He looked at me… like a creep. As he went, I could tell he was undressing me in his mind. And that… that made feel cold.
"Another time then, ma douce," he went for the door, taking his goons with him, "oh, and tell that idiot Pacer his plans a go."
The door shut close. I breathed. I panted. God, I feel like I got dropped in an ocean!
"Boone?" I looked over to him. He… looked so weak. His skin had become pale, and his chest was swollen red. He shifted slowly at me, like holding his head up took all the effort of the world. He looked at me… he was worried for me.
"Are…" he croaked like a rusty door hinge, "you… okay?"
"Am I okay?" I shook my head at him, "What about you?"
"I've… had…" he then grinned slightly at me, "worse."
He then coughed violently, and I expected to his lungs coming out of his mouth. I gave the room around me a look, observing where everything was. I looked at the door, trying to think of a way to open it from in here. Then I heard it. The sound of the bolt being unlocked.
I expected that big ape to come on through, but nobody did. It just stood there, closed but unlocked. I craned my ears, listening. Maybe… birds. I could hear the flapping of bird wings in the distance, and I could only smile.
"Hang on, Boone. I'm gonna get us out of here."
"Hhh," he coughed again, "how?"
I sighed deeply, moving my hand to the back of the chair. I closed my eyes, and steeled myself for what was coming next:
"Very painfully."
I slammed my hand against the chair. Oh God! Mmm-my… thumb! Goddamn… oh fuck! My hand felt like it was cold and on fire all at the same time!
I gritted my teeth, giving everything I had to hold in my scream as I slid my hand through the handcuff, my dislocated thumb giving it the room. When it was free, I immediately brought it up to my face, expecting to see the nightmare the pain in my hand was telling me. But… it wasn't. It was only bent forward into my palm. I couldn't see any breaks, and the pain wasn't bad enough to be a fracture.
So, I took my thumb with my other hand, still bearing the handcuff, and I snapped it back into place! I fell on the floor from the pain, agonizing rolls of pain waves hitting the surfs off my body for a minute. But… it went away. I was free! I moved to the door, and it opened.
I moved through it slowly, poking my head out the inches I needed. There was nobody in sight. Okay, now I needed to get us out of here.
"Hang on," I whispered, "I'll be right back."
"Not… going… anywhere."
Wade
The crowd has arrived. Took 'em a while, but ain't nobody can resist the strange concoction of smooth jazz mixed with that techno stuff from New Reno. Funny bunch these Van Graffs are. Heard all manner of strange and twisted yarns 'bout 'em from the Bishop Family. Ah y'know, things like black cats, debauchery and sorcery.
All the typical tripe you'd fine in for that Adams-like Family who dapples in the occult nobody likes. Truth is, none of 'em know what the true evils that exist in the deep, dark corners of this world. With that… the sudden coldness. The chill in the bone that comes with the north wind. I closed my eyes, feeling the scar on my cheek... the coldness grippin' me.
I could see it. Deep… deep into the memory. It's eyes, red and bloodied… across a mass of shadow, dancing in the pale moonlight. Whipping silently through the Maryland fog and mist… its voice… piercing… ripping into my mind as it became one with the shadows; slipping silently through the swamp like the mist around it I couldn't understand it, but it was there, hunting me… stalking me.
I laughed a little to myself. What is with trouble always wantin' to find me, eh? Am I just that irresistible? Heh. Y'know what, don't answer that, don't wanna know.
"Whachya thinking, brat?" I heard Illie whisper at my shoulder, "Thinking of all the exotic women and their men wanting to shank you for stealing them away?"
I could only laugh.
"Never my choice, Illie. Just seem to fall into my lap sometimes."
"Well, that's disturbing."
"Not as disturbin' as you, Oh Lady Death. Good thing no kids are around. You'd give 'em a heart attack."
"I'll take that as compliment, brat," she scowl-grinned me, curtsying before me with her long black cloak held in either hand like a proper lady of the high court, "buncha pansies that they are. Besides, aren't you a little early for the," she then took up that strange-as-hell cockneyness we'd seen in one of House's old reels, "November gun-powder an' all that, eh, govn'r?"
I could only laugh at the goofyness of it all. A trio of proper, well-oiled killin' machines, dancin' round and round in goofy costumes! It reminded me instantly of that 'chap' Chaplain, prancin' round and round, getting kicked on his ass only to laugh and do it all again! So, I followed suit with my laughter as I fitted the mask to my face, the suctions gluing into place as I danced and chanted, waving my hands with all the dramatic flair as I could muster:
"Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot! I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot!"
She laughed at me, slapping her hands on her thighs like a crazy person going truly nutty:
"You are so weird, brat! Ah, well. Hand me the tin."
And so I did, and so she continued her spooky transformations. The base was of course the white, making her face as pale as the ghosts of her ancestors. She then dipped her fingers into the black, streaking down in patterns over the eyes, the cheeks and the lips. Black, frightening ovals came over her eyes, and in gloom she truly looked mighty spooky! But it was not yet complete: she removed long coil feathers, placing each in her braded hair until it was like I was seein' somekinda angry looking crow looking to gobble me up!
Oh wait, that's just her face. Meh. Either way, I hope the fools who do get in her way bring their brown pants first, and red dinner jackets seconds. Give you three guesses on why.
"Ah, niños pequeños!" I heard Miam chuckle behind us. We both turned, and there, in the pale moonlight like a spotlight upon some Lex Nightgirl at high time in New Reno, Miam danced softly in as she applied her own mask:
"In this town, we call home, everyone hails to the pumpkin song!" she bobbed and twirled like a ballerina, her cloak whirling about like silken nightingale, "In this town, don't we love it now? Everybody's waiting for the next surprise!"
Now she bobbed her pace, and started going our way, disappearin' into the shadows. Still, we could hear her soft, whispering melody slowly comin' at us like somekinda willow-wisp.
"Round that corner, little niño, hiding in the moonlight, somethings waiting now to pounce, and how you'll scream!"
And through the billowing shadow-light, there she was: bowing with bent knee and hands spread wide. Yeah, you better believe we clapped until our hands went numb. There she looked up at us, her eyes and warming smiling peering through her silver and emerald masquerade mask.
"Gracias mis hijos."
Illie gave me a broad smile.
"See? That's how you do weird, brat. Not that Shakespeare shit—"
"It was Fawkes actually."
"Still shit. This though? This is weird with class. Weird with style!"
"Aw, thank you, niña."
I could only shrug. Let's be fair, I can't really argue that now, can I?
"Sounds like I got work to do."
"Indeed, mi chico alto," she smiled at me, "now, I suppose we do as well?"
"Yes," I nodded slowly, placing the bolero hat upon my crown, fitting snuggly over the mask, "remember, this can't be traced back to Cortez or House. So, whatever you do, don't lose your masks. Other than that, there's not much else to say. We've done this before. So all I can say is… well, go kick some ass and look good doin' it!"
Illie clapped slowly:
"That's a great plan, navezgane!"
Ah, you know me! Can't take 'em lyin' down.
"Ah, only the best, dayden!"
I then tipped my hat to her and she rolled her eyes at me. Eh, best I can get. I then reached under my cloak, feeling for where Masayoshi hung at my hip. I pulled it slightly feelin' the easy give way. I then traced my hands down to the Sig-Sauer 12.7 pistols strapped to my legs.
I cleared leather, gave 'em a tug, felt smooth in the draw. Satisfied, I looked up, seein' the others doin' the same. Miam with her H&K MP-5 and Czech made CZ75, Illie with her Ithaca 37 Stakeout and .357 Ruger Magnum. Each fitting perfectly under the black cloaks. Behind the mask, I smiled.
"Shall we?"
"After you," Miam gestured with her hand. I nodded, and took point. By now, the crowds that would show had shown and were already inside. Could start to hear the loud thumping of techo-marvels with smooth acoustics and vocals. We approached the black building, neon lights dancing and bobbling, the words Lion's Den blazin' proudest gold with a looming Alpha above his pride.
Bouncer up front, alone, gave us halt:
"Nice costumes," he smirked, "but I'll need to—"
My hand went for the Katana, my Iaijutsu honed and practiced; back in its saya in a breath. The bouncer clutched at his throat, blood poring through his hands as he stumbled back in his chair. We quickly passed him. We hit the double backed wooden doors, golden knockers pressed with Lions heads. Now the music was getting louder: electrical synths, tapping drums and percussion forming in that strange marriage of New Reno Techno and Baton Rouge Smooth Jazz.
And to top it off? A vocal so smooth and silk it was practically heavenly:
" Time don't wait for no one, so my heart and my time I refuse to waste! You thought you knew the score but there's just so much more when you're caught in the race! What is love, without a flame? What's a rose, without a name? What is pleasure without pain? It ain't nothing more than an empty space! "
"Hmm," Miam mused, "catchy tune."
"Yeah," I drew the Sig-Sauer's, "time to go to work."
