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Post by PJ on Oct 15, 2005 19:25:27 GMT -5
Next chapter is up. Eh, I don't like this one, though Kobolos is teh awesome roxx0rz.
Chapter Six: The Cruel Tutelage of Kobolos
Antenora sat next to the campfire, warming herself. They were out in the wilderness, just the two of them. Both were laughing, and smiling, and talking. Then Dante pulled out his flute, and began to tell a story while he played. “Once upon a time in China, some believe around the year one-double-naught-three, head priest of the White Lotus Clan, Kobolos, was walking down the road, contemplating whatever a man of Kobolos’ infinite power would contemplate – which is another way of saying: Who knows. When a Shalin monk appeared on the road, travelling in the opposite direction.
As the monk and the priest crossed paths…Kobolos – in a practically unfathomable display of generosity – gave the monk the slightest of nods. The nod, however, was not returned. Was it the intention of the Shaolin monk to insult Kobolos? Or, did he just fail to see the generous social gesture? The motives of the monk remain unknown. What is known, were the consequences.
The next morning, Kobolos appeared at the Shaolin Temple, and demanded the temple’s head Abbot offer Kobolos his neck, to repay the insult. The Abbot, at first, tried to console Kobolos, only to find that Kobolos was inconsolable. So began the massacre of the Shaolin Temple, and all sixty of the monks inside, at the fists of the White Lotus. And so began the legend of Kobolos’ Five-Point Palm-Exploding Heart Technique.” Antenora, amused, asked “What, praytell, is the Five-Point Palm-Exploding Heart Technique?” “Quite simply,” Dante answered,” the deadliest blow in all of martial arts. He hits you with his fingertips at five different pressure points on your body. And then he lets you walk away. But once you’ve taken five steps, your heart explodes inside your body, and you fall to the floor, dead.”
“Did he teach you that?” Antenora asked, eagerly. “No. He teaches no one the Five-Point Palm-Exploding Heart Technique. But he is Nietzsche’s psalm personified. If Kobolos doesn’t kill you, he will make you stronger. Now one of things I liked about you, Nora, is that you appear wise beyond your years. Then allow me to impart a word to the wise. Whatever –WHAT – EVER- Kobolos says, obey. If you flash him – even for an instant – a defiant eye, he’ll pluck it out. And if you throw any American sass your way, he will snap your back and your neck like they were twigs, and that will be the story of you.”
Dante wandered down the steep steps that lead to the Temple of the White Lotus, in which the last surviving member lived. Dante bore a large bruise on the side of his face, and Antenora rose an eyebrow. “He’ll accept you as his student.” “Caught him in a good mood?” Antenora asked, eying the bruise on Dante’s face. “More like a sadistic one.” Antenora climbed out of the jeep, pulling her bags out, as well. Dante indicated the steep steps he had just come down. “Just seeing those steps again makes me ache all over. You’re gonna have plenty of fun carrying buckets of water up and down them.”
“Why did he accept me?” “Because he’s a very, very, very old man. And, like all rotten bastards, when they get old, they become lonely. Not that that has any effect on their disposition. But they do learn the value of company.” “When will I see you again?” “When he tells me you’re done.” “And when do you think that might be?” “That, my dearest, all depends on you. Now remember, no backtalk, no sarcasm. At least not in the first year. You are going to have to let him warm up to you. He hates Caucasians, despises Americans, and has nothing but contempt for women. So, in your case, that may take a while. Goodbye.” He started the jeep, and drove off, waving back to Antenora.
Antenora finally reached the top of the steps, and arrived at the temple of the White Lotus. It was very old, and very dusty. A rack of weapons stood to one side of her. Kobolos sat on a throne before her. He was simply ancient. He was a small man, but had long, long, long flowing white hair, and an equally long white beard, with long, long white eyebrows, and a long, white, robe. Antenora kneeled before the throne, and said “Teacher, I am unworthy to be your student-” “Your Mandarin is lousy. I can’t understand a single word you say. It causes my ears discomfort. You are not to speak unless spoken to. Do you understand Mandarin any better than you speak it?”
“I speak Japanese very well -” “I didn’t ask if you speak Japanese, or Mongolian, for that matter. I asked if you understand Mandarin!” Kobolos yelled. “A little, I am still learning.” The Bride replied, meekly. “You are here to learn the mysteries of Kung Fu, not linguistics. If you can’t understand me, I will communicate with you like I would a dog. When I yell, when I point, when I beat you with my stick!”
“Dante is your master, is he not?” Kobolos asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Yes, he is.” Antenora answered proudly. “Your master tells me you’re not entirely unschooled. What training do you possess?”
“I am proficient in a combination of Tiger and Crane style. And I am more than proficient in the exquisite art of the Samurai Sword.” Kobolos snorted. “The exquisite art of the Samurai Sword?” He mocked, “Don’t make me laugh. Your so called “exquisite art” is only fit for Japanese fat heads!”
Antenora glared up at him, and he laughed softly. “Your anger amuses me. Do you believe you are my match?” He asked, a bemused expression on his face. The Bride shook her head. “No.” “Are you aware I kill at will?” Kobolos asked, still smiling to himself. “Yes.” “Is it your wish to die?” “No.” “Then you must be stupid!”
He paused. “Is there anything you do well? Oh, yes, you speak Japanese. I hate the goddamn Japs!” He shouted, stroking his beard. He pointed towards the rack of weapons and said “Remove a sword.” Antenora angrily dropped her bags and stalked towards the rack and ripped a sword out. “Let’s see how good you really are. Try and land a blow. If you hit me, I’ll bow down and call you master.”
Antenora ran at Kobolos, and lunged at him with her sword. He deftly moved out of the way. She yelled, and began slashing wildly, forcing Kobolos back, but he dodged every single blow, laughing. “Come now, woman, can’t you even hit an old man?” She swung again, and he stepped aside, and the sword missed him. “Your technique is pathetic.” He said, striking her on the chest with his open palm, and sending her flying back, into the dirt.
Kobolos laughed again, and stroked his beard. “I’ve fought cripples who posed more of a challenge! Now fight, goddamn you!” The Bride picked herself up and lunged at him again, but Kobolos deftly leapt up and landed right on top of her blade. “From here you can get an excellent view of my foot.” He said, and somersaulted backwards, kicking Antenora hard in the face.
“Your swordsmanship is amateur at best.” He said, stroking his chin, as she furiously stood, wiping the blood off her face. He stood in a fighting stance. “Let’s see your Tiger and Crane style match my Eagle’s Claw.” He held his hands in an imitation of a paw, when she attacked him wildly. He easily fended her off, laughing.
He leapt behind her, and grabbed her arm, holding it behind her back. “I asked you to show me what you know, and you did. Not a goddamn thing.” Kobolos twisted her wrist, and Antenora screamed in pain. “Like all yankee women, the only thing you know how to do is order in restaurants and spend a man’s money.” He twisted some more, and she screamed again.
“Excruciating, isn’t it?” “Yes!” Antenora shouted. “I could chop of your arm if I wanted to.” He said, holding his hand threateningly above her arm. “No!” She shouted, turning white with pain. “It’s my arm now. I can do with it what I please. If you can stop me, I suggest you try.” Kobolos smiled evilly and twisted some more. “I can’t!” Antenora shouted desperately. “Because you’re helpless?” “Yes!” “Have you ever felt like this before?” “No!” “Compared to me you’re as helpless as a worm fighting an eagle, aren’t you?” “Yes!!” Antenora desperately screamed, almost blacking out.
“That’s the beginning!” Kobolos shouted, and let go of her arm, which Antenora cradled, sobbing. “Is it your wish to learn this power?” Antenora nodded. Kobolos then turned to leave. “You’re training will start tomorrow.” He left.
They stood before a small wooden wall that Antenora didn’t know what was for. Kobolos stretched his arm out, so that his fingertips touched the wall, and, with incredible ease, he drove his fist right through the wooden wall! Antenora stared. “Since your arm now belongs to me, I want it strong. Can you do that?” “I can, but not at that close.” “Then you can’t do it.” Kobolos said, smiling coldly. “I can put my hand through that at six inches.” “And you could shoot a man from a rooftop with a rifle if you so desired, but this is not what I asked. What if your enemy is three inches in front of you? What do you do then? Curl up into a ball? Or do you put your fist through him!” He struck again, and made another fist-sized hole beside the first.
“Now begin.” Antenora placed her fingertips onto the wooden wall, and punched as hard as she could. She swore, and waved her hand in a vain attempt to dissipate the pain. Kobolos snorted mockingly and left. Antenora struck the wall again, and again, and again. Soon she had shed quite a bit of skin, and the wall was rather splintered and bloody. She kept on hitting till it broke, and then she continued on another section, never saying a word.
They sat at the table. Kobolos deftly used his chopsticks to place a piece of rice into his mouth. Antenora, on the other hand, was pathetically trying to hold the sticks with her bloody and bruised hand. She kept dropping them, until she threw aside, fed up, and grabbed a hunk of rice and placed it into her mouth. Kobolos swept the bowl off the table and it crashed onto the floor.
“If you want to eat like a dog, I will make you live and sleep like a dog, outside! If you want to live like a human, pick up those sticks!” He pushed his own bowl before her, and Antenora picked up her chopsticks, and resumed, only managing to pick up the food with great difficulty.
One day, Antenora raised her fist after working through another section of the wooden wall, and put it right through the wood in one go. “Impressive.” Kobolos, who was watching, said. Antenora smiled triumphantly. Kobolos moved her hand one inch in front of the wall. “Begin again.” He said, and left. Antenora, determination upon her face, started again.
…hitting the wall…training with her master…sword duels…kung-fu bouts…all swam through Antenora’s head. Then, it all stopped. Antenora regained her composure. She knew what she had to do. She turned on the torch, and started to wiggle her feet in her boots. PJ had tied the ropes around her leather boots, so she was able to slowly work her feet out of them. She used her feet to slide the boots towards her bound hands. Antenora frowned in concentration as she pulled a penknife from her boot, and opened it. Then, carefully, she began to cut away at the ropes binding her hands. Within a minute, her hands, too, were free.
She then placed her fingertips upon the wooden lid of her coffin and struck the wood. It thudded dully, and Antenora drew back, and struck again, bruising her knuckles. The wood began to splinter. She struck thrice more before the lid cracked, and she ripped the hole wider as dirt began to rain down upon her bloody hands. With a yell she broke through the lid and clawed her way through the freshly dug soil, her hand breaking through the earth like one of Fulci’s zombies. She was free.
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Antenora
Detriment Deleter
Fiendish Philologist
Put down that harpoon gun, in the name of these wonderful birds!
Posts: 15,891
Likes: 113
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Post by Antenora on Oct 15, 2005 21:24:08 GMT -5
Kobolos is cool indeed, and this was a very good chapter. Interesting flashback.
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Post by Dante on Oct 16, 2005 2:19:50 GMT -5
I agree; the flashback was very cool. Great chapter, PJ.
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Post by SF on Oct 16, 2005 7:29:30 GMT -5
I agree with Dantenora. I was wondering how Antenora could have died this early in the story, and was curious as to how she would get out. Nicely done, PJ.
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Post by PJ on Oct 17, 2005 1:44:07 GMT -5
Second last chapter. The Oaks is my old hometown, just so you know. Enjoy.
Chapter Seven: Swans and I
The next morning, a beautiful and expensive white car drove along the track that led to PJ’s caravan, leaving huge dust clouds in its wake. A beautiful woman stepped out, dressed completely in a stylish white suit. Her most distinct feature was a black patch that covered her right eye. She carried a red luggage bag in her hand. Swans approached the door of the caravan, in which PJ leant. “Come in.” He said, leading her into his caravan. Unbeknownst, however, to PJ and Swans was that a dusty woman stood atop one of the many large dirt hills that surrounded PJ’s camper, observing the two former assassins with revenge in her mind.
“I’ve got to give it to you, PJ, that’s a pretty potato ed up way to die. What’s the name on the grave she’s buried under?” Swans sat on one of Budd’s seats whilst he prepared the both of them a cold drink. “George Dupin.” Swans’s eyes closed upon the Sam-Sword that leant against a wall. “Can I look at your sword?” “That’s my money in the red case, isn’t it?” PJ asked, putting some ice cubes in the dark drink he had just prepared. “Sure is.” Swans replied, her one eye still on the sword.
“Well then, it’s your sword now.” Swans reached over and grabbed the sword, and pulled it from its sheath, admiring it. “So this is a Sam-Sword.” She said, inspecting the edge. “Yep.” PJ said, and handed her the drink. “Dante tells me you once had one of your own.” “Once. I hocked it.” PJ noncommittally said, sipping his own beverage. “How does this one compared to that one?” PJ smiled.
“That sword,” he said, pointing to the one Swans held, “compared to my old sword the same way every other sword Sam Boddy ever made compares to every sword he didn’t make.” Swans continued to admire it until PJ said: “So, which “R” are you filled with?” “What?” Swans said, raising her eyebrow. “They say that the number one killer of old people is retirement. People got a job to do, they tend to live a little longer so they can do it. I’ve always figured warriors and their enemies share the same relationship. So now that you won’t have to face your enemy any more, which “R” are you filled with, Relief, or Regret?”
Swans sipped her own drink. “A little of both, I guess.” She said, staring into the distance. “Bullsalsa. I’m sure you do feel a little of both. But I know damn well that you feel one more than you feel the other. So which is it?” Swans stared him into the eye, and said “Regret.” “Got to hand it to her. No one got to Dante like she did. I tried to warn him…” He drained his glass, and then turned his eyes to the red bag which sat atop his counter. “Want your money?” Swans asked, noticing. PJ grinned. “I do.” He unzipped the bag, and opened it. Lying inside was one million dollars in cash.
“Life isn’t so bad after all.” PJ said, his grin widening. They were his last words. He removed a wad of cash, and the Black Mamba hiding underneath it leapt out and bit him on the cheek before he could blink. He yelled just as it sprung again, biting him on the forehead, and tried to bat it away as it leapt one last time, biting him on the chin. PJ yelled and swept the bag off his table, sending glasses to the floor and money everywhere. He fell to the floor and moaned loudly as the venom coursed through his body.
Swans stood and approached the fallen man. “Oh, I’m sorry PJ, that was rude of me, wasn’t it?” She smiled evilly, and continued. “PJ – I’d like to introduce my friend, The Black Mamba. Black Mamba – this is PJ.” The snake hissed on the floor, and slithered into another room. “You know, before I picked up that little fella, I looked him up on the internet.” She withdrew a notepad from a pocket in her jacket and cleared throat. “Fascinating creature, the Black Mamba. Listen to this.” She flipped up the top of the notepad, and began to read.
“In Africa, the saying goes, in the bush, an elephant can kill you. A leopard can kill you. And a Black Mamba can kill you. But only with the Mamba, and this has been true in Africa since the dawn of time, is death sure. Hence its handle: Death Incarnate. Pretty cool, huh?” She said, looking at the writhing PJ. She continued. “Its neurotoxic venom is one of nature’s most effective poisons, acting on the nervous system, causing paralysis. The venom of a Black Mamba can kill a human in four hours, if, say, bitten on the ankle or thumb. However, a bite to the face or torso can bring death from paralysis within twenty minute.” She glanced at PJ again, and said to him “Now you should listen to this, because it concerns you.”
“The amount of venom that can be delivered from a single bite can be gargantuan –You know, I’ve always liked the word gargantuan, and I so rarely have an opportunity to use it in a sentence – If not treated quickly with anti-venom, 10 to 15 milligrams can be fatal to human beings. However, the Black Mamba can deliver as much as 100 to 400 milligrams of venom from a single bite.”
Swans put the notepad away and glared at her old enemy. “Now, in these last agonizing minutes of life you have left, let me answer the question you asked earlier a little more thoroughly. Right at this moment, the biggest “R” I feel, is Regret. Regret that the greatest warrior I have ever met, met her end at the hands of a lazy, idiotic, bushwhacking piece of salsa like you. That woman deserved better.”
Swans withdrew her swanky new mobile phone from her pocket and dialled a number. “Dante…this is Swans. I have some tragic news.” She paused. “Your brother’s dead. I’m sorry. She put a Black Mamba in his camper. I got her, though. She’s dead.” She paused. “Let me put it this way. If you ever start feeling sentimental, come down to a small town called The Oaks, Australia. When you get here, walk into a florist and buy a bunch of flowers. Then you take those flowers to the Twixet Cemetary on Orangey Road, and look for the headstone marked “George Dupin”, then leave them on the grave. Because you will be standing on the final resting place of Antenora Emilys.”
She approached the door. “Goodbye, Dante, we’ll talk later.” She picked up her sword, and began sweeping the money back into her case. Then, she opened the door, and…was hit in the chest by the feet of one very dirty and disgruntled Antenora Emilys. She flew backwards, and crashed into the fridge.
She pulled her sword free…or, at least, tried to. Due to the size of her trailer, the hilt hit the sword, and before she could do anything else, the Bride punched her in the face. Swans hit her in the face with the sheath, and Antenora fell back. Swans tried again to pull her sword free without success, for Antenora pulled a TV antenna out, and whipped it across Swans’ face, like a lash, leaving a long red cut. Swans yelled and pulled her sword partially free, and leapt at her enemy. Antenora barely caught her, and the two struggled for a moment, Antenora trying to keep the sword from her throat and Swans trying to push it forwards. Then Antenora kicked Swans between the legs and leapt forwards, so that their positions were reversed. Swans then stomped onto Antenora’s leg, and punched her in the face, so that she backed. Swans then flung the sheath off, it cluttered down the hall, and she lunged at her enemy.
Antenora grabbed a chair and held it in front of her, so that the sword cut into the chair, and then she threw the chair aside, ripping the sword with it. Antenora punched Swans in the face again, before the two combatants backed off for a second, and then they both ran and drop-kicked each other, so that both of them flew away from each other. Antenora recovered quicker, and grabbed a lampshade and smashed the top of it against Swans’ head, before she could block the blow. Swans shouted and kicked Antenora hard in the chest so that she flew back into one of the caravan walls. Swans screamed a battle cry and ran at her, leapt into the air, her high heeled shoes aiming straight at the Bride’s head.
Antenora saw the whole thing in slow motion; she moved aside, and grabbed Swans’ foot as it came at her, hurling it backwards so that the assassin crashed through the puny caravan wall and landed in the bathroom. Antenora leapt through the hole and grabbed Swans from behind, choking her. They struggled for a moment, and then the Bride brought her enemy to her knees, and shoved her head in the toilet.
Swans, desperate for air, pushed the flush button and the water-level lowered, and she took a deep breath of air, and then kicked Antenora away. The Bride hit the wall and Swans punched her hard in the face, before she tore down the hallway, searching for the sword she had dropped.
Meanwhile Antenora, who was just recovering, was staring straight at PJ’s golf-bag, out of which several golf clubs stuck. And one thing that wasn’t a golf club. The hilt of a sword. The hilt of a Sam-Sword. She ripped it out of its sheath and read the inscription: “To my brother PJ, the only man I ever loved.” Seems PJ had kept it for sentimental reasons, despite the tensions in the brothers’ relationship. She stood at one end of the hallway, and Swans appeared at the other, holding Antenora’s stolen Sam-Sword.
Her eyes widened with surprise as she saw the sword Antenora held. “What’s that?” “PJ’s Sam-Sword.” Antenora said with a smirk. “He said he pawned it!” Swans said, as though it was a mere inconvenience. Smiling, Antenora replied “Guess that makes him a liar, don’t it?” The two warriors eyed each other until Antenora said “I was wondering, just between us girls, what did you say to Kobolos that made him snatch out your eye?”
A faint smile appeared on Swans’ face. “I called him a miserable old fool.” The Bride flinched. “Oh. Not good.” Swans’ grin widened. “And you know what I did?” She paused, for effect. “I killed that miserable old fool.” Antenora’s eyes widened. “I poisoned his fish heads. Yeah, that’s right, I killed your master.” Swans tormented. “And now, I’m going to kill you. With your own sword, no less.” She waved the sword slightly. “Which will, in the near future, become my sword.” Antenora glared at her enemy coldly. “magee, you don’t have a future.”
They stood there, glaring at each other for some time, the tension constantly rising, until they couldn’t handle it anymore, and they charged, screaming at each other. They clashed in the middle, and held fast, neither side giving any ground. Antenora placed her foot behind her for leverage, and, with her left hand…she plucked out Swans’ remaining eye.
The proud warrior screamed and fell back to the floor of the caravan, swearing and cursing Antenora for ever, thrashing wildly on the floor. Which is where Antenora left her vanquished nemesis, blind and in great pain, in the tender company of the Black Mamba that still prowled the caravan. One more to go. Dante.
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Post by Dante on Oct 17, 2005 3:24:29 GMT -5
Clever. Very good chapter, PJ.
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Antenora
Detriment Deleter
Fiendish Philologist
Put down that harpoon gun, in the name of these wonderful birds!
Posts: 15,891
Likes: 113
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Post by Antenora on Oct 17, 2005 14:29:13 GMT -5
I liked this chapter greatly, particularly the part with the Black Mamba.
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Post by SF on Oct 17, 2005 14:48:08 GMT -5
The Black Mamba was totally unexpected. Great chapter PJ.
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Post by C. on Oct 17, 2005 15:54:49 GMT -5
God. You guys do know that all this is from the Kill Bill 2 movie except the thing with the toilet I think.
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Post by PJ on Oct 17, 2005 17:32:21 GMT -5
God. You guys do know that all this is from the Kill Bill 2 movie except the thing with the toilet I think. They should...I've told 'em. But, yeah, this is basically the movie, turned into a story. Just to clarify.
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Post by PJ on Oct 18, 2005 7:58:48 GMT -5
Chapter Eight: Face to Face
There was a slight problem in killing Dante, however. Antenora, unfortunately, had no idea where he lived. Perhaps she should have questioned Swans….oh well. She had a lead, at least. Like most orphans, Dante had collected father figures. One of them was Mr. Ennui Literati. Ennui ran, essentially, the London Mafia. But Mr. Literati found the word “mafia” too common…every country had one. No, in this aspect, Ennui was different. He led a merry band of cutthroat bunch of crooks known as “The League of Gentlemen”. And Gentlemen (and Ladies) they were. They may be killers and thieves, but that did mean they couldn’t have manners, and be courteous and nice. Mr. Literati had put the romance back into rogues.
England. Good old England. Antenora herself had been born in America, but Dante was English-born and English-bred. Antenora knew, without a doubt, that Dante would live here. But unlike Celinra, who had made her presence known in Japan, Dante remained hidden. Antenora entered a bar known as “The Dark Avenue” and sat down beside a pretty younger woman who was staring into her glass. The Dark Avenue was a gangster bar; Mr. Literati owned it, and it was the favourite place of his crooks. So, unlike most bars in London, it was rather respectable, not like the dim and filthy places that were more common in this area of London. No, this place had style.
Most of the people were dressed impeccably, the young lady whom Antenora sat beside seemed to be the only exception. She wore a blue blouse and a pair of jeans. This woman, despite her youth, was a high-ranking member of the League of Gents. She was known simply as “J.”. “Hello, J.” Antenora said, as she sat down. The gangster turned and looked at Antenora. She grunted, and Antenora continued. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Literati.” “He’s been expecting you.” J. said, taking another swig from her glass. Then she stood, and brushed off a non-existant piece of dirt from her blouse.
J. led Antenora outside, where a dark car stood. Without speaking, J. climbed in, and Antenora followed. “I suppose there’s no point in blind-folding you, is there?” Antenora nodded. She had been to the HQ once or twice. You needed an escort to be there, though, which was why the Bride had approached J. first. Had she tried to go into the HQ alone, she would have been shot, regardless of who she was.
After a short drive, J. pulled up at a large dark mansion which was tucked away in some dark corner of London. The pair of women climbed out of the car, and J. rang the doorbell. The door swung open a moment later, and the two entered. Two large bodyguards in dark suits stood there, and J. nodded at them. “I’ll wait here.” She said to Antenora, who proceeded past the guards and up the extravagant stairs. She knew the way.
After another flight of stairs, Antenora reached the top of the house, which seemed to be eerily devoid of life. She opened the door and walked into the room which had a few couches and some chairs in it. A waiting room. A strange young lady stood outside the door that led to Mr. Literati’s office. She had long hair that fell past her shoulders, and was dressed in a sober black suit. The strangest thing, however, was her face: A pure white mask covered it, with only two holes in it for her eyes. These stared at her coldly. “Hello, Snicketface.” Antenora said, inspecting Ennui’s head of security.
“Mr. Literati and his second in command are currently in a meeting.” The lips on Snicketface’s mask didn’t move as she spoke. Her real name was Jo Snicket, but she had adopted her pseudonym at a young age, as she had stalked through the streets of London, making a living by stealing and murdering her black heart out. After Ennui found her, she rose quickly, and within a few years she became his head of security; this meant that only Akbar Shahid, the second in command, and Mr. Literati himself stood above her.
After a few minutes of waiting, the door opened, and Akbar Shahid stepped out of the room. Antenora had never met him before; he had risen to power only after Antenora had fallen into her coma. The old right hand man had been found, severely burnt, and quite dead, in the Thames one day, and Akbar had inherited the position. Mr. Literati was getting old; he was already in his 60s, and was slowly handing his organisation over to Akbar. After a lifetime of crime, he was growing tired of it all.
Antenora approached the door, and Akbar stared at her coldly. He turned and left without saying a word. Snicketface patted Antenora down, to check for weapons. She had none on her. Then she opened the door, and stepped in. “Antenora Emilys wishes an audience, Mr. Literati.” “Bring her in.” Came the soft reply, and Snicketface ushered Antenora inside.
The office of Ennui Literati was rather dark, and the crime lord himself sat at the end of a long dark table. He was handsome, or had been, but his face had given to age. His hair was grey, and he looked every bit the English gentleman. His eyes were dark, and within them Antenora detected great intelligence that made her shiver every time she saw it. “Hello, Antenora.” Ennui said, making a tent with his hands. She sat down at one end of the table. “Where’s Dante?” She asked after a moment of silence.
Ennui sighed. “Where is Dante…” He said, his face remaining impassive. “I hope you don’t mean me any harm, Antenora.” “I only mean to have you tell me where Dante is.” “Not to be deterred, I see.” He sighed again. “Dante was like a son to me. PJ too, though he chose a different path.” His eyes bored into hers. “He’s dead, I presume?” Antenora nodded. “Swans killed him when he tried to sell her my Sam-Sword.” A faint smile appeared on Ennui’s face. “That sounds like quite a story…it is sad about PJ, though. His choice to leave my world behind…our world behind did nothing to prevent his fate, in the end.”
“Amber.” Ennui said, to one in particular. “Would you bring me and our guest something to drink?” Antenora looked in surprise as a woman stepped out from the shadows and headed for the drink cabinet that stood in the corner. She had been beautiful once, and although it had faded somewhat, her grace and elegance had remained. She carried herself as a queen would, and the fact that she had avoided Antenora’s gaze was praise-worthy, as well. Amber Literati was a hard woman, just as hard as her husband. It was not a widely known fact, but Amber had a lot more influence in the League of Gentlemen than it at first seemed. Indeed, she was just as powerful as her husband in some ways.
Amber elegantly took a bottle of brandy and two glasses to the table, where she poured Ennui and Antenora some. She smiled at Antenora before resuming her position in the shadows. “So Dante shot you in the head?” Antenora nodded. “I would have been kinder. I would have cut your throat.” Antenora stared into her glass. “Falling for a woman such as you is always the right thing to do, no matter what else happens.” Ennui finally said.
“Where is Dante?” Antenora asked again, after taking a sip of brandy. Ennui drank some before answering. “Sheffield. Villa Rubens, in the outskirts. You can’t miss it.” Antenora nodded. “Do you know why I am telling you this?” Ennui Literati said, after another moment of silence. Antenora shook her head. “Because Dante would have wanted me to.” “Now that, I find hard to believe.” Antenora said, drinking some more brandy. “Why would he?” Ennui smiled crookedly. “How else will he ever see you again?”
Villa Rubens, Sheffield
There weren’t any guards. Anywhere. The door was also open. Very ominous. The reason for Dante’s success, Antenora knew, was his ability to be unpredictable. Antenora, in an effort to combat this, had taken a pistol with. Dante would expect to cross swords with her…she wouldn’t let him have the chance. She entered another room, and then went to another. Call it intuition, call it skill, but somehow, she knew that he would be in the next room. She steeled herself, and whirled around the corner, gun held fast to face the last thing she expected. Dante certainly was unpredictable.
Dante, sitting on the floor, with a little girl beside him, playing. The little girl had fiery red hair, like Dante, but her face…her face reminded Antenora distinctly of her own. Antenora stood there, unmoving, when Dante said “Bang Bang!” Then he fell to his side, as though shot. “Oh, Bea, Mommy got us!” He dramatically dropped the toy gun he was holding and fell to the floor, still.
The little girl, Bea, said “Oh, I’m dying…I’m dying.” And fell to the floor, beside her father. Then Dante said, in a narrator’s voice: “But little did Quick-Draw Nora know…that five-year old Beatrice Rubens was only playing dead, due to the fact that she was impervious to bullets.” Little Beatrice stood, and said “I’m impervious to bullets, Mommy.” Dante continued his narrative: “So, as the smirking killer approached, what she thought was a bullet-ridden corpse…that’s when little Bea fired!” Beatrice stood, holding her toy gun, and said “Bang Bang!”
Antenora stood utterly still. A small tear ran down the side of her face. “Mommy, you’re dead.” Dante said. “So die.” Antenora, catching on, dramatically doubled over, and said “Oh, Bea, you got me. I should have known…you are the best!” Then she fell over and “died”.
Little Beatrice Rubens ran up to her mother and said “Don’t die, Mommy, I was just playing.” Antenora looked up, tears streaming down her face, and she hugged her daughter. “I know.” “I waited a long time for you to wake up, Mommy. Did you dream of me? I dreamed of you.”
“Every single night, Bea.” Antenora said, holding her tight. As she hugged her long-lost daughter, she glared at Dante, who simply sat there, watching. “My my my..what a pretty girl you are…” Antenora said, staring into the face of Beatrice. “You’re pretty too, Mommy.” She said, hugging some more. Dante came over and sat down beside the two, and said “When I showed you Mommy’s picture, tell Mommy what you said.” Beatrice turned away, suddenly shy. She shook her head.
“C’mon shy girl, you know you said. Tell Mommy, it’ll make her feel good.” Beatrice then smiled and said “I said…I said you’re the most beatuifullest woman I ever saw in the whole world.” Dante nodded.
He was fixing Bea a sandwich. “Bea, don’t you think Mommy has the prettiest hair in the whole wide world?” “Yes I do.” Beatrice said, nodding enthusiastically. “In fact,” Dante said, spreading some peanut butter, “it’s better than pretty. What’s better than pretty?” Bea thought for a moment, and then replied “Gorgeous.” “Very good, gorgeous. Mommy is gorgeous.”
Antenora still glared at Dante venomously whenever she could, and Dante sighed. "You know, Bea, Mommy’s kind of mat at Daddy.” “Why?” Beatrice asked, a questioning look on her small face. “Where you a bad daddy?” “I’m afraid I was. A real bad daddy.” He turned to Antenora. “Our little girl learned about life and death the other day.” He turned back to Bea. “You want to tell Mommy what happened to Emilio?”
Beatrice suddenly became sad. “I killed him. I didn’t mean to, but I stepped on him, and he stopped moving.” “Emilio was her goldfish,” Dante explained. “She came running into my room holding the fish in her hand, crying, “Daddy, daddy, Emilio’s dead!” And I said, “Really, that’s so sad. How did he die?” And what did you say?”
“I stepped on him.” “Actually, young lady, the words you so strategically used were: “I accidentally stepped on him.” Bea nodded. “To which I queried: “And just how did your foot accidentally find its way into Emilio’s fishbowl?” And she told me, no no, Emilio was on the carpet when she stepped on him.” He paused. “Hmmm, the plot thickens. And just hod did Emilio get on the carpet? And Mommy, you would have been real proud of her, because she didn’t lie. She said she took Emilio out of his bowl, and put him on the carpet. And what was Emilio doing on the carpet, Bea?”
Beatrice made a waving motion with her hand. “He was flapping.” “And then you stomped on him?” Bea nodded. “And when you lifted your foot up, what was Emilio doing then?” “Nothing.” “He stopped flapping, didn’t he?” Bea nodded again. “And you knew what that meant, didn’t you.” Bea nodded sadly. “He was dead.”
Dante turned to Antenora. “She told me later, that the second she lifted up her foot and saw him not flapping, she knew what she had done. Is that not the perfect visual image of life and death? A fish flapping on the carpet, and a fish not flapping on the carpet. So powerful even a five-year old with no concept of life and death knew what it meant. Not only did she know Emilio was dead, she knew she had killed him.”
“She then came running into my room, holding Emilio, and wanted to make him better. And I asked her, why did she step on Emilio? She said she wanted to see what would happen.” The story done, he handed Bea her bread.
Later that evening, as the two parents were tucking their daughter into bed, Dante said: “Well, Bea, I love Mommy, but I did to Mommy what you did to Emilio.” Beatrice’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You stomped on Mommy?” She asked, holding her teddy bear. “Worse. I shot Mommy. Not pretend shoot, like we were doing. I shot her for real.” “Why?” Bea said, looking from her father to her mother. “I don’t know.” Dante replied with a tired sigh. “Did you want to see what would happen?” Beatrice finally asked. “No.” Dante said. “I knew what would happen to Mommy. But what I didn’t know when I shot her, was what would happen to me.”
“What happened?” “I was very sad. And that was when I learned that somethings you can never be done.” “What happened to Mommy?” “Does it hurt, Mommy?” Beatrice said, her wide eyes turning to Antenora. “No, sweety, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” “Did it make you sick?” “It put me to sleep. That’s why I haven’t been with you, Bea, I’ve been asleep.” “Daddy, can I watch a video with Mommy?” Dante smiled, and nodded. “Sure. What video?” “Shogun Assassin!” Beatrice said, excited. “No. Shogun Assassin is too long… “Shogun Assassin will be fine.” Antenora said. Dante nodded, and turned to leave. “I’ll leave you ladies alone, then.”
Antenora left her daughter sleeping peacefully, whilst she contemplated the events of the evening. Dante…Dante had acted in a way she hadn’t thought possible. He was not the father type, she knew, but he and Bea got along just fine. Perhaps…deprived of Antenora, who was in coma, and at odds with his brother, Dante had poured all the love he had into his daughter. Antenora entered the living room, in which Dante sat.
“I was just admiring your Sam-Sword.” He said, inspecting the blade. Dante’s own sword was on a stand between them. “So how is old Sam?” Dante said, putting the sword back into its sheath. “He’s just fine.” Antenora snapped coldly.
Dante, suddenly, pulled a gun and fired a green dart straight into Antenora’s knee. She screamed and he shouted “Don’t move!” Before she could do anything. “Leave it in there. Try and take it out, and I’ll put another in your face.” Antenora sat perfectly still, eyeing the green dart in her knee. “What the hell did you just shoot me with?” She asked, furiously. “My greatest invention yet.” Dante said, leaning back on the couch. “It is a powerful truth drug, more persuasive than sodium pentathol, without the druggy side-effects. I call it “The Undisputed Truth”.”
He stood, and walked behind the couch, towards the bar. “I’ve shot you, because I think that when it comes to me, you are utterly incapable of telling the truth. And that I, when it comes to you, are utterly incapable of believing you.” Antenora glared furiously at him. “You can take it out now, if you want.” She ripped it out of her knee, and threw it aside.
“Ok. First question. Did you think your life in El Paso would work?” Antenora nodded weakly, but the drug forced her to answer differently. “No!” She shouted, almost in tears. “But I would have had Bea!” She cried out, sagging on the couch. “Why did you try and keep Bea from me?” Antenora sighed and said “With you…she would have been born into a world of assassins and guns and violence and blood. She deserved better than that. So I had to take her away.” “That wasn’t your choice to make. And you yourself are a murderer.”
“All those people you killed to get here…it felt good, didn’t it?” Antenora again shook her head, but said “Yes!” She breathed raggedly and then shouted “But at least I made an effort!” Dante sighed. “Ok. So what happened on that last hit I sent you to? I want to hear it all.” “You sent me to L.A. to kill SetnicK, right? Well, here’s how it happened….”
“Urinate on end, then wait 90 seconds for results.” Antenora placed the pregnancy test on the basin, and waited impatiently. She had felt ill on the plane, and had vomited. It was probably just some bad food, or something…but better to be sure.
90 seconds passed. She checked the tube. One end was blue. Blue…what did blue mean? She checked the packet. Blue meant…blue meant pregnancy. Her mind went numb, and then the doorbell rang. Unfortunately for Antenora, she had been spotted, and SetnicK had sent an assassin of her own.
Antenora approached the door. “Hi, I’m Annelise Amour, gift manager of the hotel. I’ve got a gift basket here…” Antenora dropped her pregnancy test kit, and bent down to pick it up. “I’m a bit busy at the moment…” there was a loud bang, and a huge hole was blasted into the door. Annelise kicked the door open, reloading her shotgun. She stormed into the room, as Antenora hurled a knife at her. Annelise raised her shotgun, and caught the knife on the handle. She shot again, and Antenora barely avoided being hit again. Then Annelise shouted “Don’t move!” And Antenora, defenceless and without any place to duck behind, stood, her hands in the air.
“Look.” She said. “I just found out. Just before you blasted a hole into my door, that I’m pregnant.” "Yeah, right.” Annelise said, but she didn’t shoot Antenora straight away, which meant something, at least. “Look, I’m not lying. Any other day, I would be, but not today. Look, over there, by the door. I dropped my pregnancy kit. Have a look.” Annelise, still training her shotgun on Antenora, backed away, and crouched down, feeling along the floor for her the kit. She picked up the white tube thing, and glanced down at it, quickly. “I don’t know what any of this means.” She said, eyes narrowing. “The box is just there!” Antenora said, desperately. Annelise felt along the floor for a bit longer, then found the box. She glanced down, reading it, preparing to fire at the slightest movement.
“Blue means I’m pregnant.” “I’ll read it myself, thank you!” Annelise shouted, scanning the box. Then she dropped it. “Say I were to believe you. Then what?” “Just go home. I’ll do the same.” Annelise Amour nodded, and backed out the door. “Congratulations.” She said, before dashing away.
“Facing Annelise Amour was the most frightening moment of my life. And that includes three years with that evil bastard Kobolos. Before that strip turned blue, I was a woman, I was your woman. I was a killer, who killed for you. Before that strip turned blue, I would have jumped a motorcycle onto a speeding train for you. But once that strip turned blue, I could no longer do any of those things. Not anymore. Because now I was a mother. A mother who had only the safety of her baby on her mind. Can you understand that?”
Dante nodded. They now sat on chairs out on the patio, their Sam-Swords by their sides. “You know, five years ago, if I had to make a list of impossible things that could never happen, you shooting me in the head would be right at the top. I’d have been wrong, wouldn’t I?” “Yes. In that instance, you would have been wrong.” “Well?” “Well what?” “Explain yourself.” “When you left, and didn’t come back, I was mourning. And then I tracked you down. Well, not you, but those guys I thought had killed you. So what do I find? After me thinking you were dead, I find you in some dusty town, getting married to some guy, and pregnant? Was my reaction really all that surprising?” Antenora nodded. “I am a murderous bastard. There are consequences to breaking the heart of a murderous bastard. You experienced them.”
They both sighed. Both understood each other. Both knew what had to be done. “You and I have unfinished business.” Dante smiled crookedly. “Yes. We do.” He paused. “You know, I was rooting for you?” Antenora nodded. “And that when we fight, I want you to win?” She nodded. “You also realise that however much I want you to win, I will do my best to kill you?” She nodded. "Then let us begin.”
They each grabbed their sword, and struck at each other. Three times they hit, and three times they both struck at the same time, so that they pushed swords against each other, all the while still sitting on their chairs. And then…Antenora jabbed Dante in the chest with her right hand, then his neck, then his side, then his chest again, and finally, right above his heart. He sat there, stunned, and he dropped his sword, as did Antenora.
“Kobolos taught you the five-point palm exploding-heart technique?” Dante said, a faint smile on his lips. “Of course he did.” Antenora replied, a sad smile on her face. “Why…why didn’t you tell me?” “I don’t know…because…I’m a bad person.” She said apologetically. Dante smiled again. “No. You’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favourite person. But every once in a while…you can be a real magee.” Antenora smiled faintly and Dante stood. He then turned, and took one step into the grass, and then another, another, another, and then one more. He paused for a second, and he whispered the words “Bea.” Before taking his last step. He then seemed to sag, and a moment later, he toppled over onto the lawn.
Antenora watched the one love in her life die and felt terribly, utterly cold and alone. Then she remembered her little girl sleeping in her other room, and she felt a little better. She had finally gotten her revenge, as well as a daughter. But she had also lost a great deal in the process. Dante was dead.
THE END
Ok. It's done. It's like to say some things. First of all, kudos to Mr. Quentin Tarantino, for directing the brilliant movie that this story is a rip-off of. Thanks to you guys for reading.
It was quite a bit of fun, actually....
I had to leave a few things out, unfortunately. The whole "Buck" hospital thing was a bit to R rated for me. And, of course, I had to leave out the whole Dante/Swans romance bit, because, well, I'd have made some enemies for life.
Sorry to Antenora and Dante, as their characters were pretty...well, out of character, but they were the perfect couple for it all, so meh.
Sorry to anyone I didn't put in it, I tried my best, and managed to fit in a damn huge amount of people, even if they were only cameos. So there. Finished.
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Antenora
Detriment Deleter
Fiendish Philologist
Put down that harpoon gun, in the name of these wonderful birds!
Posts: 15,891
Likes: 113
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Post by Antenora on Oct 18, 2005 8:13:50 GMT -5
Great story. The ending was very well-written.
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Post by Dante on Oct 18, 2005 13:48:41 GMT -5
Finally, I know how the film ends.
Seriously, though, great story, PJ. I've really enjoyed it.
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Post by Amber on Oct 18, 2005 16:57:58 GMT -5
Even though I haven't commented, I have been reading this. It's a shame it's over. But at least now I know the story to the film. I've seen parts of it so many times and I haven't got any idea what is going on.
Awesome work PJ.
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Post by PJ on Oct 18, 2005 17:30:39 GMT -5
If you haven't seen the film, I greatly urge you to do so, even if it IS too violent for you. It's a great movie.
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