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Post by champ103 on Jun 2, 2005 12:46:15 GMT -5
INTERVAL PEACHES
Peaches stood in a puddle of blood, the red liquid staining her shoes. She was fourteen years old, and her first victim was lying dead on the floor, his mouth open, his eyes staring but his pupils unfocused. It didn’t bother Peaches a bit: what other girls her way would scream at and run away from she had been encouraged too. She loved seeing the dead mans face: to her, it was the face of success. Now she could prove to them what she really was: she would no longer be called pathetic, or ‘little girl’ as the people back at the Fan fiction Assassination Squad. They didn’t want to recruit her: they saw her as the pathetic daughter of Howard and Vivian Satchel, a pathetic girl who should be off skipping rope or practising ballet. Screw skip-rope, screw ballet. Peaches wanted violence, blood, and gore. She wanted success, to be perfect, for her parents to be proud of her. And as she looked at the pale face of Gregory Almond, who was dead beside her, hands outstretched, she knew that she was almost there. She pushed her dagger back into its small sheath, and began to slowly walk off happily, grinning to herself. She was not supposed to have killed Gregory: it was a mission for some other members of the squad. But she had seen the files, she had caught her chance, and she had taken it. And now they didn’t have to worry: what the other member had failed to do, for one reason or another, she had completed. None of them seemed to have bothered to kill Gregory, but yet she had. She grinned to herself, her wonky teeth held back by metal braces and left the room of Gregory’s flat, before catching a bus back to the outskirts of town, and walking a couple of miles to the squad’s secret headquarters. When she arrived, she looked around for someone she knew. She needed to say what she had done, so that they could let her be a member: she could tell them that if they had just given her a proper assignment, then she could show them what she had. It seemed a shame to have to take someone else’s assignment, but she couldn’t care less at that moment, as Keith, the leader of the whole squad walked past. Someone she could tell. Keith had a younger daughter that was a little older then Peaches, but Peaches had only met her once at some ‘daughter father work day’, where the girl had stolen her lunch and thrown a rock at her. She had tanned skin and messy hair that trailed over her face. She didn’t say much: Peaches couldn’t even remember her name as she thought about it, but it was something to do with the moon. Moony, or something like that. ‘Keith!’ she cried, rushing up to him. He looked busy, with a mobile phone ready in his hands and files tucked under one arm. ‘What is it Peaches?’ he asked hurriedly. ‘I don’t have time for you at the moment: I’ve got some assignments that are urgent.’ ‘But this is urgent!’ Peaches cried furiously. ‘I’ve killed someone!’ Keith stopped on his track. ‘Who?’ he asked quickly, looking confused yet curious. ‘How?’ ‘Gregory Almond,’ Peaches said, remembering back to the file that she had seen. ‘It was an assignment for someone else, but I wanted to prove to you how capable I was! You understand, right?’ Keith’s eyes looked amazed, but looked understandingly angry. His hand turned into a fist, and he squeezed the mobile phone with the other. Peaches suspected it might break if her continued. ‘Gregory Almond?’ he asked. ‘As in, one of our top assassins?’ Peach’s stomach sunk. Her hearts beating started to change it’s timing; her lungs felt the need for more air. She was such a stupid magee. ‘You mean, I wasn’t supposed to kill him?’ he asked. Keith shook his head. ‘No!’ he screamed, his face read, his eyes straining in fury, his veins sticking out awkwardly from his neck. ‘Congratulations, Peaches, for being a complete idiot! Stay out of things, okay? You’re lucky I don’t kill you!’ He sounded serious, Peaches stepped away. ‘Get out of here!’ Keith cried. ‘I’ll be mentioning this to your parents!’ Peaches froze, her legs ceasing to carry her across the room. Why was she obeying him: if he had given her a proper assignment in the first place, she wouldn’t have had to find one for herself. She turned round, and unleashed her dagger from her sheath. ‘Get that potato ing weapon away from me!’ Keith cried, standing back, placing the files back on the table. ‘Don’t you tell me what to do!’ Peaches cried. ‘You’ve always treated my like I was five; you’ve always bossed me around, pushed me wherever you liked! I was always a little girl to you, I was pathetic and weak. Well, it seems a shame that I’m going to be the one to kill you.’ Keith laughed out loud, but it sounded fake and full of fear. ‘You couldn’t kill a fly,’ he muttered. ‘I managed to kill your top assassin,’ Peaches cried. ‘I’m sure you’re not as hard as that.’ Keith looked around, hoping that someone was going to walk past, that someone was going to save him. It appeared he finally believed what he saw: all this time Peaches was more capable then him. She had power over him: one move and she could send the thick metal blade of the knife into his chest, plunging into his heart. Killing him instantly. And Peaches would enjoy every little second of it. She’d drink from his blood, and slice up his dead body. She was insane, and she knew it. But she loved being insane: she loved murder, she loved killing, she loved blood. Just about everything that a true assassin needed to love. ‘You get away,’ Keith cried, sweating furiously, his forehead shining. ‘Go play with some dolls, you stupid little girl.’ You stupid little girl. Peaches swerved her hand forward, ready to kill Keith, but he ducked, and kicked at her legs, making her fall. She made sure that she kept a tight grip on the knife as she slipped: Keith was probably hoping that she dropped it. But instead, and she leaned back and kept up, before being knocked back by a force so heavy that she smashed back against a filing cabinet, before collapsing to the floor. Keith was holding a mace in his hands; his long fingers wrapped around it like a spider. The ball of spikes was swinging in its place, Peaches blood splattered around it. The young girl picked herself up onto her knees, and tried to fight the pain that was running down her face, just like the blood that had erupted from her skin. She felt like her face had been ripped apart, tied in knots and been pulled back over her head. She felt like death was welcome whenever it wanted. She felt like giving up: she had a sudden feeling of exhaustion and she just wanted to lie down. She scrambled down, letting herself slip smoothly to the floor, before her eyes widened, her body made a sharp reversal movement, and her brain triggered back to reality. Giving up was stupid: she had taken on a top assassin and she could take on Keith. She pulled herself up to her feet, just as Keith took another step forward, viciously swinging the mace down at her feet. Peaches felt as if it had the power to rip away her limbs, she was salsa scared, so she took a quick movement and leapt into the air. The mace crashed into the filing cabinet, swinging away from Keith’s movement as it slipped out of his hands. Peaches thought fast: she pushed herself down towards Keith as she landed, and landed right down on her back, pushing him down. She slid off, and landed straight onto her left shoulder on the hard floor, but as she kneeled up, to see what had happened to Keith, she saw that he was probably in a worse situation. His face had landed straight down on the mace, spikes slitting down his cheeks, shoving themselves through his skin towards his skull. And one had split his temple, shoving right through. Blood filled the room, and Peaches watched as it spread, the thick liquid flowing around her feet. She had finished her business: she was now ruthless, powerful, a true assassin. And she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of anything.
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‘What the potato were you thinking?’ her father roared, waving one arm as if her were ready to strike her. She cowered in fear: she couldn’t touch the power of her parents; she couldn’t deal with the control. ‘I was thinking that I wanted to be like you!’ Peaches cried. ‘You’re to blame: you didn’t keep your job from me-nor did mom-and you got me into this! Can’t you see that my actions are out of admiration?’ ‘Don’t you move the blame, young lady!’ her mother screamed. ‘Not only did you kill one of the Fan Fiction Assassination Squad’s best assassins, but you killed our boss too? Have you even begun to think of what this means for the squad? Months of shifting assassinations, finding a new boss, promotions and demotions, all because you couldn’t just go skip rope or something!’ ‘I’m not a little girl!’ Peaches yelled. ‘I’m fourteen: a young adult, a capable person with opinions and actions of my own! I was trying to help: I was trying to make you proud of me.’ There was a silence in the room as her parents took in this information. They were stung: they didn’t know what to say. Were they really to blame? Her mother took a step towards Peaches and gave a sympathetic sigh. ‘Look, darling,’ she said kindly. ‘We really appreciate your trying to help, but we can’t risk things like what happened today.’ Her father put an arm around her mouth as he took a step forward. ‘We just don’t want you to get hurt, okay?’ he muttered behind his large beard. Peaches sighed, and shook her head. ‘No,’ she whined. ‘I want to be an assassin. I want the action, and I want to follow your footsteps. I don’t want you to get hurt, but you still go out and kill people anyway! I’m sorry for what I did, but I should still-’ ‘Sorry doesn’t cut the mustard!’ her mother cried. It was something that she always said, and it never made sense to Peaches. ‘Look, we want you to follow in our footsteps, too,’ her father explained. ‘That’s why we’ve paid for your own sword, and karate lessons.’ Peaches nodded acceptingly. ‘We just don’t want you to take on such hard missions yet. We want you to be in the next generation of the Fan fiction Assassination Squad, not this one.’ Peaches gave a growl: her eyes narrowed, her beautiful face was taken over by rage. ‘It’s not up to you what I do with my life, damn it!’ she cried, and drew out her sword. Her parents took a step back in fear. ‘Peaches, put that sword away!’ her mother cried. ‘We only bought it for you for defence!’ Peaches looked around, and gave a sigh. They were her parents, and she couldn’t kill them. All they wanted was the best of her. She pulled her sword down and prepared to put it back into her sheath, when she was thrown to the floor, pain raging up her legs, from her ankles all the way to her thighs. She gave a grumble, and looked up to see what had happened. Her mother was standing back in shock, hands to her pale face. But her father was staring down at her, his eyes grim, his dirty decaying teeth forming an ugly smile at her. And in his hand, was a fire tong, which he had presumably taken from the fireplace quickly. Peaches pulled herself up, but then found the fire tong smacking against her head, as if her father were possessed. ‘Hubert!’ her mother cried, flocking towards the man, he turned around, and pushed her away. ‘If this venomous little girl thinks she can threaten us like that-‘ he began. ‘This is our daughter you’re talking about!’ her mother cried. ‘Don’t you ever harm a hair on her head, Hubert, or I’ll report you to the police. Why, just a few minutes ago you were saying that you didn’t want her to get hurt!’ Peaches father twisted his head around to face her mother, his dark eyes staring deeply into his, his mouth shut, his face paling. Finally, he sighed, and dropped the fire tong on the floor. He leaned over to his daughter, and pulled out a hand to help her up. She smiled at her, baring his horrible teeth once more. ‘I’m so sorry, love,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ Peaches grabbed his hand softly, and he began to pull her up, before he felt something light hit his legs. And then the pain begun: his face turned white, his eyes closed in horror, as he stumbled down and collapsed on his side. Peaches drew the katana away, and placed it back in her sheath as she pulled herself up from the soft carpeted floor. Her father muttered some words, as blood rushed from his legs, his bones cracked, his muscles snapped. He opened his eyes one last time, as Peaches looked down at him. She pulled out the sword again, and sliced it across his chest, spelling out a single letter: H, for Hubert. She put the sword away, and turned around to face another human, staring at her with angry eyes, and a dark brown bob poking out from the back of her head. She had a single thin hand on her hips, and in the other, a long sword, just like Peaches. She had bought her daughter one just like it: and now, she was going to kill her. ‘Mom,’ Peaches muttered, and looked down at the floor. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her mother’s eyes brightened, and she gave a grin, but it looked psychotic, delusional. ‘Sorry?’ she asked, still grinning and chuckling slightly. Her teeth were pure white, but she looked pure evil as she slashed her sword toward Peaches, who took a long stride back, and landed down on the old red sofa that was perched in the middle of their lounge. ‘Sorry doesn’t cut the mustard! Sorry can’t bring your father back, you little magee!’ her mother cried. ‘To think that I just saved your life. Is that what you call returning a favour?’ ‘No,’ Peaches replied with a sigh. Her mother was coming towards her, angry and determined. She was going to try and kill her, and Peaches didn’t want to try back. She loved her mother, she didn’t have the heart to kill someone so close to her. ‘Well since you killed Hubert,’ her mother muttered grimly, her smile turning to a dark frown, her eyes swiftly glazing down at Peaches, her fists so tight it seemed that the skin would snap,’ I’m sure he’d want me to return the favour to that!’ She launched forward onto the sofa, and swiped her katana down. Peaches gave a scream, and rolled over, down to the floor, kicking the body of her father as she tried to pick herself up again, her katana ready in hand, her opinion swiftly changing. Now, the way she saw it was that if her mom wanted to kill her, trying back would only be returning the favour. Peaches quickly sliced down at her mother’s legs, who jumped back, and landed down on the flat side of the sword, pulling down Peaches’s hand, swerving her around to the floor. From there, she quickly did what she could in desperation, and bit at her mother’s leg. Her mother flinched, and Peaches pulled back the sword, grinning, before shoving it forward, slicing across where she thought her mother’s ribs were. The katana sliced through the air, and Peaches realized that her mother wasn’t there, but instead, she was running towards the doorway of the living room. She quickly followed, expecting a surprise, for her mother to jump out from behind a corner. She looked around all ways, as she strode along the hallway, but suddenly felt something brushing against her back. She turned around, and an arm suddenly clawed around her neck, pulling her back against the wall. Peaches knew at once that it was of course her mother, but she wondered how she had not seen it coming. However, as her breath ran short, and her face turned red she quickly changed her topic of thought onto how she was planning to stay alive. She quickly pulled up her arm, and thrust her katana down. She knew it was more of a slicing sword, but it was her only hope. The flat side landed onto her mother’s head, and Peaches just fiddled it around, before it quickly cut into her scalp, making her mum shriek and let go. Peaches dropped to the floor, and began to crawl, trying to find the time to push herself up. She looked back, and saw her mother patting at her head, only concentrating on Peaches a small bit. It gave her the chance to stand up once more, and she ran for the stairs. She didn’t care about killing her mother anymore: all she cared about now was getting out alive. She quickly sprinted towards the staircase, remembering her pacing from athletics at school. She held her hands out flat, moving her body fluently and quickly as she rushed away from her mother, who had recently abandoned the pain in her head for the satisfaction of killing Peaches. Peaches shook her head lightly as she ran up the staircase, skipping a few steps each stride. What kind of mother would be so desperate as to go out of her way to kill her daughter? Then it dawned on Peaches: a mother who made a profession out of assassination. To her mother, a death was just success, triumph, glory-and nothing else. Peaches could almost picture her mother keeping her dead body in a glass case over the fireplace, a trophy to show guests and a proof of what kind of assassin she was. As Peaches saw the top of the stairs ahead of her, she also realizes that her mother was confused, and filled with sorrow. Her husband-her life partner-had just been killed, by her own daughter. She was just getting her own back, as she described it ‘returning the favour.’ Peaches snorted: some favour. She quite liked her life.
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Post by champ103 on Jun 2, 2005 12:46:50 GMT -5
interval continued
Finally, the teenage girl reached the top of the stairs, and looked around for somewhere to go. If she wanted to get free, she had to go up some more stairs and go onto the roof. She’d find a way down from there, but she didn’t have time to go back down the stairs or fiddle with windows. She barely had time to think those thoughts: her mother was just one or two steps behind her. She quickly rushed towards the door that would lead to the night flight of stairs, and up to the roof, but to her horror, the doorknob felt jammed. It wouldn’t budge. It was locked: Peaches wasn’t sure why anyone locked it, but she didn’t have time to think. She turned around, to find herself facing her mother. She turned her back on the lock, and quickly launched out a fist towards her mother’s head. Her mother ducked, then grabbed the arm, before holding it tightly with two hands. The veins on her face and neck were showing: she was clearly excited and happy. She was obviously enjoying watching Peaches squint in pain as she twisted her arm in a horrible position. Peaches felt her bones move slightly. She had never felt more pain. ‘Stop!’ she cried in a desperate attempt. ‘Please mom, I’m sorry.’ There was a silence, and at first her mother did nothing, but slowly, her evil grin started to slow down, as she realized that she was killing her daughter, trying to get rid of her heir. She let go of her arm, and Peaches fell to the floor, feeling blood come from where her mother had dug her fingers deep into her skin. ‘Where did you learn that?’ she asked angrily, but with a dose of curiosity mixed in too. Her mother took Peaches hand, and helped her to her feet. ‘My mother taught it to me,’ she explained. ‘You have to pull it back against their head, but the most important part is where you put your fingers. You must have great finger strength, my girl. One on the pulse, one at the inside joint of your elbow, and the rest carefully positioned in between.’ Peaches took her hand away from her mother’s, and took a few steps away. ‘You tried to kill me, mother,’ she snarled. ‘You wanted me dead: you could have easily just killed me off then!’ Her mother took a step towards her. ‘Exactly,’ she cried. ‘I could have, but I changed my mind. You are my only family, and I’m not getting rid of you.’ Peaches turned her head and snorted. ‘Family are the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,’ she explained. ‘I’m sure it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to anyway. All they do is annoy you and get in the way of your dreams.’ She quickly grabbed the handle of her katana sword, and prepared to pull it out. ‘Don’t start that bullsalsa again, girl,’ her mother yelled. ‘Or maybe I will kill you.’ ‘I’d like to see you try,’ Peaches snarled, and started to walk towards the French windows that led to the balcony. She twisted the key in the lock, and with a gentle motion, she pulled it open, letting the sunlight burst in where the glass had acted as a slight force field. Peaches stood outside. ‘How about now?’ she asked angrily, gesturing for her mother to come over. ‘Don’t talk salsa,’ her mother muttered, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket, and holding it in her mouth, lit with a dark coloured lighter, with flames decorating the side of it. She took a puff from it, and blew out the smoke through the French windows. ‘Besides, I’m a professional assassin. I’d eat you for breakfast.’ She took a few steps outside, until she was at the fence around the balcony, looking at the few of the small village: fields and cottages, with a few large buildings here and there. She prepared to take another smoke, but felt a scratch on her back. She put a hand to it, and felt blood rushing out. She pushed a finger up and down it, and felt the horrible wound that she knew had been made by a katana. A second later, the pain kicked in, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to fight it off. ‘I’m not so potato ing sure,’ Peaches snarled, and gave her mother’s limp body a push. It swayed back and forth, but collapsed down on the short fencing of the balcony, her mother still breathing, still alive. Still able to feel more pain. Peaches lifted up her mother’s feet, as the woman tried to make a feeble kick: she lifted to feet over to the other side of the balcony, letting her mother’s body fall over the side of the balcony, falling two feet down onto hard concrete. At least, she could do that: Peaches was grabbing her by the ankles, ready to drop her, let her fall and die a horrible death. If she was lucky, she’d die instantly. But if she wasn’t lucky…well, Peaches didn’t want to go into that. ‘Sorry,’ her mother muttered. Peaches looked down at her desperate face and smiled. ‘Sorry doesn’t cut the mustard,’ she snarled, and let go. She didn’t see her mother land, but she heard the desperate screams, and the thump as she hit the floor. She died instantly: she had luck on her side.
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Fifteen years later, Peaches sat in a deserted caravan, looking out of the window: it was dark outside, and the sky was filled with a sudden pattern of snow. It was usually very cold out in the mountains, and Peaches was usually lonely with just one companion all the time to help her. She was running from the law, and for her life, and that’s why she was hidden in the mountains. She was ready to come back to civilization, as no one was on her case, no one was looking for her. As far as the authorities or anyone was concerned, she was dead, buried six feet under in an old graveyard, somewhere in England called Grimsby. She turned back to face the table: tonight she had very special company indeed. Her usual companion-by the name of Amber- was letting them have a private conversation, and was in her private bedroom of the small caravan. It was silent, where Peaches and her guest were sitting. She didn’t have all day: she was going to leave tomorrow, and she needed to get ready. She broke the silence. ‘So?’ she asked. ‘What are you here for, Luna?’ Luna looked around, not moving her face, but just simply her pupils. ‘I’m here to warn you, Peaches,’ she snarled, hands flat down on the table they were sat at. Peaches always felt a sudden feeling of nervousness when she was around Luna: it was the awe of such importance, such power. Luna gave a sigh, as if she were bored of Peaches’s thoughts. ‘I’m sure you remember last year,’ she began quietly, her voice strong and unafraid. ‘The massacre.’ Her words were simply, but Peaches was taken in by them. ‘Of course,’ she snarled. ‘What was the death total again?’ she asked with a breaking grin. Luna shook her head angrily and slowly, glaring evilly at Peaches. ‘What the death total was is not relevant, Peaches,’ she explained. ‘What is important is that we didn’t kill enough.’ Peaches raised an eyebrow, and leaned in towards her boss, enthralled by her words. They sounded so clever and filled with wisdom, when really, they were common words, used by common people. It was the way that Luna spoke them that made them so irrespirable thrilling. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, filled with more questions and curious thoughts. Luna gave a sigh as she rubbed her hand up and down the handle of her very own katana sword, the best around, one that was still in its sheath. It was in terrific condition. ‘Do I have to remind you about a certain ________?’ she asked. Peaches eyes widened. ‘She awoke from a ten month long coma a few weeks ago.’ ‘I say,’ Peaches muttered under her breath. She had forgotten that they hadn’t killed her: the massacre seemed so long ago. ‘What do you want me to do, Luna? Hunt her down, kill her?’ Luna shook her head, and held up one hand, fingers together, stretched out long. ‘Stay here,’ Luna ordered, pulling her hand down quickly: it retreated back to her side loosely. ‘______ is coming as we speak, making her way towards these very mountains.’ ‘She’s looking for me?’ Peaches asked in awe, shaking her head slightly. ‘Why? What does she want with me?’ ‘She wants you dead, Peaches,’ Luna growled. ‘She wants everyone who was part of the massacre dead. And Phillip, but I suppose he was asking for it.’ Peaches opened her eyes wide, and held a hand up to his mouth in surprise. ‘So far, she’s already killed Countess Ashley, and James Berry, and killed off Phillip.’ Peaches shook her head, scared and unsure of what to say or do. Luna continued her speech. ‘She’s powerful, Peaches,’ she insisted. ‘She’s desperate for revenge.’ Luna dragged out her words. ‘And nothing is going to stop her, okay?’ Peaches nodded, but said nothing. ‘Stay here, and take care of her, Peaches,’ Luna ordered. ‘It’s important that you stop her. Her monkey business cannot be taken any further. Prepare, practise, do whatever you will. But stay here, and let ______ find you: and make sure you kill her, okay?’ ‘Of course,’ Peaches snarled, pulling out a mace from a box underneath the table. ‘I’ll be waiting. ‘And when ______ arrives here, death’s going to hit her like a brick.'
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