The Spiralling
Chapter 13: Life and Death
The day had not been an easy one, not so much the difficulty in retrieving his wife, but especially the difficulty in seeing his wife. It was not what he had expected, after all, being a champion of the blade and in spirit, he was all but positive that things would always turn out alright for him- God had promised him, promised him that there would be happiness, but with the turnout of events, a tiny voice inside of him was starting to whisper into his right ear that it was just his delusion.
There was nothing left for him in his city but his daughter- the only silver lining remaining in the sky, perhaps a rather dull one. She may be alive, but the spirit he had hoped she possessed was all but gone with reality sinking in. With some probing, he was able to gather what he would rather have not known, but would need to should he ever want to see her again. Nevaeh Bonitus was the Demoness, and as this pure incarnation of evil she had murdered people by the dozens, mostly of criminal backgrounds but also many who had no quarrel with the law. Her arsenal includes her swords, some kind of fan, knives both held and thrown, pistols, sub-machineguns, and an assortment of grenades, even unconventional implements like metal fangs and steel toes- A living encyclopaedia of mankind's violent history.
As much as he would not want to remember the day, his memory was much too honed to slurp up the bliss of ignorance, but with this memory comes a realisation of his new goal, which was very unfortunately not to go after his wife no longer, but to somehow reunite with his daughter...
Earlier...
Finding and using a payphone remained an easy affair for the Grandmaster- it was one of the few features of his beloved city that remained archaic, and familiar. With minimal help from his street-wise apprentice, Michael, he was able to contact a brother-in-law regarding the whereabouts of his wife. Grabbing the phone, excited as he was, he slipped in a dime into the coin slot of the machine and dialled one of the numbers the book had given him.
"..." The phone whined at first, testing Aldan Bonitus' patience as he perceived himself to be closer to his family than never before, but soon enough, it started dialling the numbers in punched in. Mechanically, it moved on to cry out to his brother-in-law's own phone.
"Hello?" A generally unimpressive voice that came from the other end of the line spoke, "Who is this?"
"Is this Mark Benson? I am Aldan, husband to your sister." The Grandmaster introduced himself, and he could sense some alarm from the other side.
"You! Still got the cheek to show up, have you!" Mark scolded Aldan with an English accent- Aldan's wife was of English-American descent. Even Michael, who was facing the other way, viewing the landscape unavailable to him up in rural Ontario, could hear the shouts issuing from the payphone, and he turned his head to perceive more but quickly reversed his motion, knowing full well that his teacher needs his privacy.
"Mark, you have my most sincerest apologies for the failure of your sister's marriage but-" The Grandmaster raced through his words, but he was seconds too slow from ever completing it, and leagues away from ever swaying his former brother-in-law to his side. They were never in good terms ever since Aldan had left to teach in his northbound academy, and had only spoken briefly each time they met before his divorce, whenever both sides of the family decided to gather in a reunion.
"Oh spare me, you selfish bastard!" Mark continued his ruthless abuse of his hated sister's husband- being close to his family, it was sacrilege to him when she was divorced as it devastated her.
"Look, there was no way our relationship could have continued, if you could've just stepped in my boots for a moment..." Aldan defended himself, forgetting briefly his reason for calling as he was wading through the memories of his youth again, fighting to come to terms with his demon of the past, which seems to just reside on the other end of the phone right by him.
"Yeah, that's what they all say!" The Englishman's words were piercing for Aldan was hit in his most vulnerable spot.
"It was a choice of evils, Mark! My occupation in the swordsman's arts was my only source of livelihood, and one slip in my career could have me thrown out! I paid little attention to Margaret because it was the utmost I could do!" Aldan let slipped his early life in a nutshell, in a frenzy of words fuelled by his grief and anger towards Mark's general insensitivity, "I left her to spare her the suffering of our union."
"Whatever, what in blazes do you want?" Cold and uncaring, Mark was simply avoiding Aldan's explanations simply because he could never find any place inside of him to believe any of his words, being grounded to his own belief.
"Where is she?" The emotional pangs within him was intensifying- he could feel an oscillation of loneliness and need of company within him on one end, and a sudden, unexplained homesickness on the other.
"Oh, missing her already?" First, verbal abuse in the form of insensitive comments and now sarcasm- despite being the one at fault, the Swordsman could not help but to feel anger seething inside beneath his thick layer of leather, steel, cloth, skin and muscle, "Why would you bother all of a sudden, it's not as if you give a shat."
"I dreamt of her every night, and thought of her every day, yet I dare not return for years because I would only douse her in the same pain as before..." Aldan's words were permeated with conspicuous honesty and a true expression of his innermost depression, it was a statement that could move hundreds should it be captured on film, so it had certainly moved Mark by a slight measure if not quite a bit.
"Go on then, go see her, take down this address, and you'll know what you've done to her..." Mark said, giving in, though it was quite apparent that he was still standing his ground and compromising for his own end. After that, he recited the address of what appears to be his wife's new home or something else, Aldan could not tell. All he could tell from Mark's tone of voice that he may not like what he sees should he set foot in the address he was given, however, he had no choice but to venture forth.
It was a few hour's drive away even with a cabby's help by Michael's suggestion. The journey took them out to the outer fringes of the city where there was much less development in the way of urbanisation. It also took them beyond their lunch into the afternoon, but hungry as they were, the Grandmaster refused to stop by a diner while his apprentice, recognising the importance of the journey, stood by his decision faithfully.
It seemed endless however, the road, as Aldan was already stripped of his patience a long time ago, but as all snakes have a head and every adventure must end with either death or victory, the taxi finally stopped right beside an old mansion of stone decorated with steel, wood and marble. It was an entirely unlikely place to find Margaret but there was other alternative but to move forward.
After paying the road ranger his respect and bills, the two quaint travellers entered the grounds of the mansion, beyond its opened gate and gargoyles and up to the marbled porch of the luxury estate. 'Has Margaret finally remarried?' The Grandmaster thought hopefully, but there was fear that it could be something else, for an old mansion may not always associate with wealth and influence.
"A stench of death or madness..." Aldan whispered softly to himself, for there was no other way to express his fears of which domain his wife may reside in.
"I'm sure everything should be alright, sir." Aldan's apprentice tried to reassure him as he was pressing the doorbell.
"Fine words, but words spoken only in the most desperate of situations..." The Grandmaster despaired just before the grand doors into the main hall of the mansion opened- something does not seem right about the place, should it remain with the impression that it was a place of residence.
Expecting a stereotypical British old butler type of person to greet him on the porch, the Grandmaster was pleasantly surprised when a boy teenager who had freshly entered into the realm of young adulthood poked his head out to see them through the gap he had made after opening the large wooden doors.
"Hi, are you here to see my dad or what?" The young man greeted the two travellers in the most casual fashion yet, a trend that had taken hold of most of the world except Aldan's own. After delivering his line, he looked up and down at Aldan and Michael- like everyone else, he was, of course, finding their attire strange, "He's a busy guy, you know."
"Is your father by any chance married to Margaret Benson?" It was a question that Aldan hoped would be answered affirmatively, for otherwise it would mean his wife was here for a graver reason.
"Er, no? My mom's name isn't Margaret. What's this about?" The boy, oblivious to the Grandmaster's intentions, had given him the truth too forcefully, something that the old man could hardly swallow, "Why so shocked?"
"Wh-what establishment is this?" Aldan stammered as his mind was racing through the possibilities, none of which allows his wife to be totally intact but either half-dead or entirely dead.
"This is my dad's funeral home and cemetery. Have you been living under a rock? Dad's one of the most successful undertaker in New York." It was a blow even Aldan cannot take, an attack beyond what even the most skilful opponent could ever deliver upon him. Before he could fall on his knees as he could not handle the shock, his apprentice held him up. The funeral director's boy however, was still oblivious of the situation, for anyone seeking to visit the cemetery would not ask for the undertaker's wife's name first.
Eventually, the Grandmaster was lead to the cemetery where his wife was buried under- it lay behind the mansion. It was a private cemetery full of rich monuments, something that a family such as the Bensons could easily afford, being a family of wealthy businesspersons, celebrities, musicians and any other high-earning positions imaginable. There, for the first time in decades, Aldan cried for hours before the bust of his wife, in the company of his dearly missed and unfortunately dearly departed Margaret.
After he had calmed down for a bit, the funeral director, being a man who was passionate about his work that was to send people off to the afterlife, told him the reason for her death- he remembers every of his 'clients', "Margaret Benson, 1961 to 2010. Lived to 49. She was killed in the crossfire of a drive-by shooting. She chose on her will, 'Darkness fill my soul, but life and light be with you and my dear daughter' to be her last words." Aldan knew that it was meant for him and Nevaeh, and he knew what it meant.
Present...
By the time he returned to the city, it was nearing nightfall. The Grandmaster was in a place where few of his age and seriousness would enter, a cybercafé. He was entirely out of place there, with his apprentice guiding him in the use of the computer, a wondrous tool to his eyes which had come a very long way since he last saw it. Amidst the screaming gamers and drifting internet surfers alike, he sent a message to Kick-Ass via his facebook, "I need to speak to you."