“What the hell,” I screamed. “I’m not his daughter you ragged old fart! How old do you think I am?”
A long pause betook the old man. He looked puzzled and scratched his balding white head. By now our conversation had attracted a small group of onlookers.
“I dunno,” he said.
“Twelve,” shouted someone from the group.
“Twelve,” I yelled as I spun around. “TWELVE!?! Who said that?”
I searched the group and looked for the talking dead man. Atticus kept his hand on my shoulder in a half-assed attempt to hold me back from killing all of them at once.
“Maybe Eleven?” another added.
I turned around and pointed the man out.
“I’ll grind your balls into guacamole!”
I looked up at Atticus with unrefined hatred in my eyes.
“Let… go.”
Atticus slowly lifted up his hand.
***
Ten minutes passed and I stormed away from the group who now laid on the ground in a beaten state.
“Idiots,” I yelled as I left.
Atticus followed behind.
“Did you have to beat everyone up, including the women?”
From the distance I could hear a lady cry out, “My leg!”
It wasn’t my fault she got in my way as I beat up her husband. Now that I was pumped up, nothing was going to stop me-- I wanted that bounty.
“What’s the name of the hotel we’re looking for,” I asked to help change the topic.
“The Volga,” Atticus replied.
“Volga?”
“Yeah,” Atticus replied. “It’s one of the longest rivers in Europe.”
“Europe?”
“Never mind.”
Atticus and I had walked into the rim of the town and stood under a sign in huge red neon letters that read Volga stamped across a fancy looking building.
“That it?” I asked.
“Huh. Oh yeah, I forgot you can’t read,” Atticus said.
“And I forgot you have convenient amnesia.”
“Yeah, that’s the place,” he muttered.
“Well then, let’s get ourselves a room for the night. You look like shit.”
“That’s my punishment for being your friend.”
“That’s not the whole punishment.”
We entered the swanky place that was so clean it made you want to break something just so the employee’s would have some work to do. The clerk who helped us was one of those douche-bag types who looked at you as though you crawled out of the gutter. His nose was so high up in the air he couldn’t even make eye contact with me-- didn’t keep him from staring at my chest though. One more time is all I hoped for so I’d have a reason to jump over the counter and staple his crotch to his thigh.
Lucky for him Atticus did all the blah-blah-blahing. Atticus always had a smile on his face when talking to strangers. Said it made them trust him more or something-- I dunno, I wasn’t paying attention.
Didn’t take long to retrieve a room next to where the bounty hunters were staying in, so I didn’t mind being the freak wearing the gas mask inside a five star hotel because we weren’t staying for dinner.
When we got upstairs past the bellhops we kicked it into high gear. I raised my makeup compact slowly around the corner of the hall.
“You don’t wear that kind of makeup,” Atticus said. “Where’d you get that?”
“Took it from the lady I beat up.”
I extended out the compact further. I couldn’t wait to test my new stuff out. One of the bounty hunters sat on a chair guarding the front door down the hall. I didn’t remember seeing his face from the briefing. Must’ve been a newbie. Don’t worry little one, I’ll break you in.
“I see one,” I told Atticus.
“I’m surprised you can see anything.”
I raised my gas mask up and took a breath.
“You’re just jealous cause Kial didn’t give YOU the mask,” I whispered loudly.
“You caught me,” Atticus replied sarcastic. “Whatever will I do without a fogged up smelly ancient artifacts strapped to my face?”
I squinted at Atticus and flipped my gas mask back on. I could feel my eye twitching again. To top it off, the mask didn’t vent very well and it was uncomfortable to feel my own breath roll down my neck. This caused the eyes to fog up quickly and made it hard to see-- I hated that Atticus was partially right-- this time. I’ll have to make Kial customize it later.
“Just watch me work my magic,” I said.
I’d later find out that the bounty hunters name at the door was Zohar. He was new to the group and this was his first assignment. Since he was a peon he was left outside to guard the door while the rest of the men fucked around inside probably drinking and talking shit. I slid out my freshly shaved leg around the corner and it didn’t take long for Zohar to spot it.
“Hey big boy,” I shouted while the rest of my body stayed hidden around the corner, “like what you see?”
Zohar stood up and held the radio up to his face.
“Uh, hey Boss, we got some intruders outside.”
The bounty hunters replied over the walkie, “Copy that, we’ll come check it out.”
“Super,” Zohar replied.
I retract my leg.
Just my luck, out of all the bounty hunters in whole town, I get the guy who plays for the other team. Three doors open around him as ten more men walked out into the hall fully loaded with guns.
“Good job Houdini,” Atticus said.
“Time for plan B,” I said.
“THAT was plan A?!?!” Atticus said.
I walked out into the hall spinning two tear gas canisters by the pull rings with my index fingers. All the men stopped and aimed their guns at me-- I was use to it by now. I paused in my stance, feet pointed slightly inward at each other.
“Going somewhere,” I asked, “Well then, here’s a little going away present.”
The canisters stopped spinning and dropped off the pull rings to the floor. They hit next to my feet and instantly incased me in thick dark smoke-- the kind of expired smoke that’s been left in a small compressed canister for a couple centuries.
Atticus stayed further back and picked off two men who try to flank us from behind. He peeked back around the corner only to see bursts of gunfire light up inside the cloud of dark smoke. Bullets flew all around me as I danced around the men with my knife. Their eyes filled with tears and lungs yearned for fresh air. Their shots so frantic they might as well have been shooting at each other. I opened their hotel door and I peeked inside. Two men sat behind an overturned table and fired at me.
I pulled out another canister and tossed it in the room. It clunked to the ground and exploded in a flash of light, temporarily blinding the men. All they could see was the color red as I flew inside and dropped their lifeless bodies to the ground.
In the hall the smoke still lingered as the men fought against each other, not knowing the difference between a comrade and a crazy bitch. Suddenly one of the doors kicked open. It flew off its hinges and hit the other side of the hall. A behemoth of a man named Macro stepped out. He had no shirt, camouflaged pants and a turret machine gun. I’ll bet anything his blood bleeds red, white and blue.
His turret wound up, which put a smirk on his face. He loved the sound. To him it meant playtime had just begun. He unleashed fire into the smoky hallway hoping it’d take me out along with his remaining men-- just the casualties of war. The turret tore at the walls, annihilating everything in its path.
I stayed crouched up inside the hotel room—- finally, a good match. I stood up and was about to make my way out into the hall when, without warning, two grenades bounced into the doorway from Macro. I barely had time to jump back into the room before they exploded. Furniture and dust flew all around me. I pulled my gas mask off and revealed a smile on my face-- a REALLY good match.
Macro advanced down
the hall. By this time the smoke had cleared. Atticus tried to fire off a few rounds but Marco held him back with hundreds of bullets spitting out at Atticus’s hiding spot.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Macro said.
Wood chips, paint and bullet shells flew everywhere. His boots clinked as he took each step closer and closer towards Atticus. Stuck in the corner with no way out, Atticus gripped his gun tighter and turned his head to see a fire extinguisher enclosed in glass. An idea brewed inside his tiny man brain.
I watched as Macro passed by my door in the hall and that’s when a glimmer of light caught my eye in the closet. I dusted myself off and crawled over to it.
“No way,” I told myself.
Macro spotted Atticus’s coat arm peeking out of the corner. He grinned and his turret wound back up. Amateurs. Like shooting fish in a barrel, he thought to himself. He jumped around the corner and released the trigger. Bullets flowed out of his gun like water from a hose and unleashed a wave of destruction. The coat tore to shreds and the fire extinguisher blew up sending Macro’s head through the wall behind him.
Atticus peeked out from around the stairway further down the hall.
“That was my favorite coat, you bastard!” he yelled.
“ATTICUS,” I screamed in excitement as I ran out of the room past Macro, stepping on his stomach as I made my way over.
“Look what I found.” I said.
I held out a black leather box with silver writing. The writing said Victual on the top with fancy cursive. Atticus grabbed the box and examined it.
“What do you think it is,” I asked. “Money? Gold? Diamonds?”
Atticus opened the box.
“Chocolates.” He replied.
Defeated, he looked down at me and showed me the box. Inside were ten hand crafted gourmet chocolates. I lifted one up, examined it and took a bite. It wasn’t even sweet. Who would eat that crap?
When we got back to Kial’s place I slammed the box on his desk. Some of the chocolates flew out onto his keyboard. Kial looked up from his computer to my angry bright red face. I could feel both my eyes twitching now.
“Chocolates,” I exclaimed. “Chocolates!?!”
Kial dumped the remaining chocolates onto his desk. He picked one up, cracked it in half, and then did the same to the next.
A bit perplexed I asked, “Uh, what are you doing?”
“Victual is a food company. The very definition of Victual means ‘Food.’ The owner of Victual just happens to be a major jewel smuggler who enjoys hiring stupid bounty hunters as personal carriers.”
He looked up at me like he was trying to imply I should apply to the guy.
“Just happens to be a jewel smuggler, huh?” I asked.
Kial cracked a few more chocolates before he found a hard candy in the shape of a key. He flipped the box upside down and revealed a small lock.
“He pays the bounty hunters a lot of money to deliver the box because of the expensive merchandise that’s not in the top but the bottom of the box.” Kial said. He used the key and unlocked the box.
“However, once the package is delivered, the receiver of the box cracks open the chocolates, finds the key, opens the bottom of the box and…”
Kial lifted two flaps on the bottom and reached inside.
“Ta-da,” he said as he pulled out a handful of tiny diamonds.
“Diamonds!” I scream.
“To anyone else, even if they decided to look in the box, all they would find are some bad tasting chocolates and if in danger, the handler can always eat the key.
“And if something were to happen to the carriers, such as getting stopped by the police, the Boss has nothing to worry about because both cops and bounty hunters don’t know what they have.” Atticus added.
Kial dumped the diamonds carefully onto his desk, closed the box up and handed it back to me.
“I think you know what to do with this,” Kial said to me.
I looked back at Atticus and smiled.
***
A group of mob goons lounged around a living room playing cards. Pizza boxes and beer cans lined the walls of their smelly, unfurnished place. I knocked at the front door. One of the goons laid down his two pair and peeked through the eyehole. I saw his shadow cover the hole and I leaned in with a smile.
“Delivery.”
Atticus and I had changed our clothes to look a little more mobster than bounty hunter-ish.
Atticus held up the box of chocolates to let them know it wasn’t the six pizzas’ they’d ordered. The goon turned around to his boss, a fat man in a business suit that smelled like wine and bad cheese-- mostly bad cheese. The bolts unlocked and the fat boss walked up to the door.
“Ah, my food delivery,” the boss said.
Atticus lifted the lid to let him know we didn’t eat the junk. The boss looked us over. Something was bugging him.
“Was there suppose to be more of you,” he asked.
“We ran into a little problem,” I replied.
“I hope you don’t expect me to pay more for YOUR inconvenience.”
I smiled at the fat man.
“No. The agreed amount will be plenty. Besides, we only have to split it two ways now.”
He reached behind the door and I felt the adrenaline from earlier kick in. I hoped he was trying something stupid like reaching for his gun or a knife. What I wouldn’t give to go knife to knife with this guy. The fat man revealed a fist fully loaded with cash—- how boring.
“I’ll hand you the cash as you hand me the box.”
He carefully handed the cash over as we uncaringly toss him the box.
“Nice doing business with you old man. See you around,” I said.
Atticus bowed to the gentlemen and followed behind me. I couldn’t believe it. What suckers!
The group of men stood around their kitchen table. The boss opened the box and carefully picked up one of the chocolates. It broke in half.
A bit confused, he examined the chocolates closer and realized they had all been cracked and smooched back together. In the place of the one I ate, I had put a small piece of coal. The boss grabbed a nearby knife and violently slashed into the box, ripping it open. All that was left inside was a note that read, “Thanks Dingus,” written by yours truly.
He threw the box against the wall and stomped outside. All he could hear was the sound of my laughter faintly echoing off the walls as Atticus and I disappeared into the shadows.
Chapter Three: For Never and Ever
I don’t remember a lot from my childhood, mostly because I repressed the memories as quickly as they came. What I do recall however was a father who loved using women as punching bags and a mother too busy blaming her kids for cellulite legs and cigarette filled lungs to even care about her unfaithful husband.
Our small apartment was a sight all upon itself. Thanks to father’s late night drinking binges, our ivory white carpet slowly transitioned to something more resembling leopard print—- and yes, in this case, the carpets matched the drapes. Our walls were literally stained with blood, sweat and tears and looked something like a Jackson Pollock painting-- only we’d never get a millionaire to buy it and hang it in their mansion.
Being the youngest of two children I always wondered why my parents never stopped after having one kid but hell if I’d stay long enough to find out.
On the day I left my parents place, I asked my older brother to come with me. My brother being the cash cow of the family, it didn’t take long before mother stepped in and used her words like my father used his backhand, so I left.
I became a street kid sleeping in alleys and begging for food-- you know, normal childhood stuff. Then one day the big one hit. It came without warning, like earthquakes usually do. Buildings shook until they toppled over, people screamed and ran for their lives like chickens with their heads cut off. I looked up just in time to see the debris from a building incase my body. Th
e only difference for me unlike everyone else was I was still alive after.
The building that knocked me unconscious had a cracked support beam that held up the attacking cement wall threatening my life inches away from my head. Crawling out of the rubble was like coming out of the womb all over again, only this time the difference was there was no one there to greet me. I roamed around calling for help but there was no reply. The city was now a ghost town, crumbled to ruins. Dust lingered in the air for weeks after. People who were barely hanging onto life vanished with all the rest.
I eventually made my way back to what was left of my parents apartment, hoping to find my brother Eden hiding under some sort of shelter. Took me a few hours but I found the remains of my parents. My father was still barely holding onto life. His legs were crushed under the rubble and he whispered for me to help end his life. I kicked dirt in his face and walked away—- no way was I letting him off that easy.
Once news of what happened reach the nearby cities it didn’t take long before the rumors started. Oblivion Girl, destroyer of cities. Don’t let this young angel of death into your city unless you want to suffer the same fate. Oblivion Girl, I liked it-- just repulsive enough to bring a smile to my face. The rumors stuck to me like gum on the bottom of my shoe, clinging to everywhere I stepped. Once you muttered my name, you sent armies running because the only thing that traveled faster than truth was gossip and I was on everyone’s lips.
With the bad came the good. Bounty hunters, gunslingers, mafia drug lords, psychopathic hobo’s and the like wouldn’t come within one hundred feet of me-- which when you’re fifteen and you dress like you’re twenty-one wasn’t such a bad thing. It was hard to believe that was only two years ago. I guess time flies when you’re obliterating towns.
I like to think I grew into my new name the way a boy grows into a man, but lets face it, I was born with that name. The ironic thing was I didn’t just like my new life I loved it, I just didn’t know what to do with it. That’s when I got into the bounty hunting racket. When I found out that people would actually pay me to use guns and trade humans for cash I just couldn’t say no-- what a wonderful invention.
I found the cardinal rule of fashion transitioned directly over to bounty hunting: accessorize, accessorize, accessorize. Guns, flamethrowers, slingshots-- anything and everything I could get my hands on and more. I needed and wanted it all until one day I had found the ultimate accessory-- Atticus.