I left my heart in a Sunny Hell
Disclaimer: I don't own Kill Bill, BtVS, or Kim Possible. I just write nonprofitable stories that involve some of the characters from these shows. Quentin Tarantino owns Kill Bill. Joss Whedon owns Buffy. Kim Possible is from Disney, I need to find out who owns the series.
A/N: The Scoobies and a good number of the KP characters will appear in this fic. The first couple of lines are just a quick re-enactment from the end of Kill Bill II, after that I really get into the story. This is just a quick break from my story 'It takes a bit of Faith' which I will be updating very soon.
I am planning on having Global Justice pop up along the way. Kim Possible, Shego, and many more of the KP crew will be making an appearance along with a certain evil law firm from Angel. But probably not anyone from the Angel crew because I really need to brush up on that show.
“I thought Lisa Wong, or somebody had killed you.” Bill put the bottle down on the table.
“Three months I mourned, and finally I went into what happened. I didn’t mean to track you down, and there you where with that idiot, and you were pregnant. I overreacted.”
“Overreacted, You Overreacted.”
“I’m a murderer, you know that. There are consequences for breaking my heart,” Bill looked at Beatrix, his eyes narrow but not unkind. “Was my reaction truly that surprising?”
“I never thought you’d do it to me.”
“You were wrong.”
“You and I’ve got unfinished business.”
“Baby, you ain’t kidding.”
Beatrix slammed her chair backward as Bill slung his blade from across the table. Slashing her sword out of its sheath she blocked a second hit. But Bill was too strong; he tossed her sword to the ground and held his ready to pierce into her heart.
He went for the blow.
Beatrix brought up her sheath, and the sword lodged into it. And with his hands still on the hilt, she took her chance. Five quick hit to his chest, and she weaseled her narrow hand back.
Bill spat out blood, it dripped down his weathered beaten chin. He exhaled in a wheezy puff.
“Pai Mei . . . taught you the five point palm . . .exploding heart technique.”
“Why didn’t you tell me.”
“I don’t know. . . . I’m a bad person.”
“No, you’re not a bad person. You’re my favorite person. But every once in a while, you can be a real cunt.”
“How do I look?”
She reached out for his hand.
“You look ready.”
“They came when B.B. was born.” Bill stood adjusting the collar on his jacket. “They called themselves the Watcher's Council. And some how, they stole our little girl away from me.”
“And even the great Bill couldn’t get her back?”
“Sorry kid, I failed you. But you can get B.B. back.”
Bill turned and took his last steps into the fading moonlight.”
Sunnydale was a vast wasteland by the time Beatrix came into town. Sand as far as the eye could see no end of it. What kind of trick was he playing? Her informant must have lost his mind. She was looking for a small backwater town called Sunnydale, and here she was in the middle of California with a tan that was almost sunburn and her cotton t-shirt plastered onto her back.
“It’s a hole,” Beatrix stomped back to her car, taking glances at the cavern. “It’s a damn hole.”
Spraying sun block over her body, she pressed the speed dial on her phone. It rang a few times before her 'Source’ finally answered.
“Kiddo, you can’t call me in the middle of the day.” He’s chubby brown cheeks burned red.
“I just did.”
“Okay what did I need to know?”
“It’s a damn hole,” She had her hopes up. It couldn’t have been that easy, not if Bill couldn’t find B.B. But she really needed a clue to be here, she needed some link to her daughter. “Are you playing some kind of trick?”
“No, of course not,” He typed in some information, and looked back at Beatrix. “But I really should be doing actual work, if Global Justice finds out that I’ve been helping you-”
“Forget GJ for a moment.” Beatrix got into her roadster, and started the engine. “If I don’t have some facts very soon, I might kill you.”
“You're cranky,” he said while typing in some commands. “A year or so ago, Sunnydale just fell.”
Beatrix took an exit and headed to the nearest town.
“ Pretty small setup. One club, one high school that had been newly renovated just before the collapse, most recent Mayor was a man named Wilkens, but he disappeared and no one officially took the position after he left.”
“Surprisingly high crime rate, full of militant gangs on PCP,” He snorted some soda out of his nose, and it dripped over the screen, making Beatrix’s view of him blurry. “Here’s something, the town was evacuated weeks before the accident. Odd huh?
She drove in silence for a moment or two. “What about little girls?”
“Tell me, I can handle it.”
“None, lots of two year olds, plenty of ten year olds, a number of teenagers but no reports of any four year olds.”
“I would have thought that a few years ago, but I’ve been helping friends take down a blue whinny guy and his green, glow-y hand sidekick for years now. Tell me impossible.”
“Have you every heard of the Watcher's Council?”
“No . . . I don’t like where this is going,” He turned from the screen. “I can’t do anything else illegal Beatrix, just talking to you is a felony.”
“Since you’re already in the pot you might as well stew for a while.”
“What do you want?”
Beatrix pulled into an old ratty looking motel. The ‘V’ in vacancy had permanently retired and she was faced with the shady clerk in the office. He had a torn, red, bandanna over his right eye, and his teeth seemed to droop when he frown. And they were drooping right now.
“Say, fancy skirt,” He leaned on his desk switching the old bunny eared television off. But the soft blinking of light from its buttons still penetrated the unearthly silence of night. “You come by way of Sunny Hell?”
“Need a room.”
“Won’t say that I won’t give you a room,” Bandanna whispered, looking, perhaps, into the black night behind her. Scratching his scruffy neck he whistled. “I’ve seen weirder sights than the like of you.”
“Look,” Beatrix rested her hands against the counter. Shouldn’t have done that, there must have been three weeks of god knows what crusted on top of it. But she didn’t let her disgust show; she could feel the heavy look of intimidation pull at her face. “Room for one, near a vending machine, no window, and you as far away as possible.”
“Lady,” Bandanna just didn’t get the lesson. He pulled back from his counter, and reached his hand to the only key on the rack. Holding the key up, he jerked it back when she reached for it. “ You ain’t no drug dealer?”
“If I was, you’d be moving up to a one star facility.”
“Damn, I need a fix,” He put the key on the counter, on top of a badly hidden tit mag that had some indescribable stain on the top corner. “I need to make a copy of your I.D., business purposes.”
Digging into her bag she turned to take out her wallet. He was a nosy son of a bitch, didn’t want him sneaking a look at her fake I.Ds. Flipping through a number of high class pseudonyms she finally landed on one that seemed to fit.
“How much for one night?”
“Fifty.” But Bandanna said it more like a question. Fifty dollars was a scam, but she’d let him have it.
“Okay, here you go.”
She let go as his scabby hand took the card and the cash. Those wounds looked fresh, puncture marks. Beatrix wondered if Bandanna boy over there liked to mess with snakes. What an endearing quality, goes right along with bad teeth, and corn chip cologne.
“Here you go Miss. Arlene Billson,” He put the card down by the keys and smiled. Or it might have been called a smile some time long ago. “Have a pleasant stay; don’t let the bed bugs . . . bite.”
As she walked away, she thought, and she seriously hoped she was wrong, that he said, “I just might.”
“I hate traveling.”
Beatrix was greeted by the stale wafting of dirty old mattress, with a hint of pee. And the view wasn’t much to go on about either. Maybe she should just hit the road; it wouldn’t be the first time she slept in the back of her car.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a phone.
“Gees, the trouble I go through to do you a favor,” He bit into a hamburger that looked delicious. She could almost smell it.
“I didn’t mean in the middle of the damn night,” Beatrix tossed her bag onto the table, and went to look in the mirror. Damn journey of revenge, she just had to hurry and kill everybody, look at those bags. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“Well I guess we can just get to this topic tomorrow,” He went to end transmission. “But, I’m working with GJ tomorrow and have no time for freelance emergencies.”
“Wait,” She climbed into the chair, and put her feet up, she kept her shoes on. “Wade, I’m . . . sorry. What is it?”
“It seems that there’s an incredibly hush-hush operation,” Wade looked at his own screen, processing the data. “Even I can’t log into the files, it’s like an Alien firewall on the information and I don’t want to take the chance of being caught snooping around.”
“You might blow your cover, I get it.” Maybe she’d never find B.B, maybe her daughter was gone for good. But she’d find who took her. “Is this what you called for, to tell me that you hit a dead end, because I could do without it.”
Wade paused after he typed in a series of fast commands. He frowned at her.
“Nothing yet, but, and this may not sound like it has anything to do with it,” Wade stopped typing. “I downloaded Sunnydale’s history and news stories, anything and everything that could be considered odd.”
“I’m about to fall out. Speed this up.”
“Every unexplainable, impossible, dumbfounding thing to happen to Sunnydale can be linked back to the High school, more specifically, to the library and certain unnamed members of the student body.”
“Un-damn-believable,” Beatrix looked at the time on her phone. “You kept me up an extra forty five minutes for that?”
“The class of 1998 started off with four hundred students,” Wade surf through the article. “But only forty five students graduated the rest were either dead, missing, or had moved a long time ago.”
“So I think that there is something odd in this place, and there might be strange things near you,” Wade looked her in the eyes. “Be very careful.”
“Good night,” Beatrix went to click the power button but stopped. “Wade, next time, wait until tomorrow to fill me in.”
She fell into the dingy bed fully dressed. Exhaustion overcame her.
She sensed the presence before she heard the door crack. Why did they always choose to mess with her, couldn’t they find some other attractive blond to screw with. Grabbing her sword, stashed beside her, she waited for the door to click shut. And just as the familiar sound reached her ears she rolled over and turned on the light. Bandanna stood pinned to the door, his blubbery lips waving under his sagging teeth.
“Do you value your life?” She held her sword pointed at him. He eyed it wearily, rolling his eyes he took out a knife. “Apparently, you don’t”
In a blur he flashed across the room, she just managed to roll out of the blade’s way. He brought the knife back and stooped into a fighting pose. He must know his stuff. Never misjudge anyone.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Beatrix slid her sword up, holding it at shoulder height, the blade toward the ceiling. The blood was surging through her body; it felt like her heart was about to burn through her chest. But she couldn’t hear his heart beat at all. Coming back to the moment she continued.
“You’re going to dive and try to cut me, I’m going to slash you in two, you’re going to stumble back, shocked, and this is the important part, are you listening?”
Bandanna snatched his makeshift eye patch off, revealing a dripping, gooey, cut from his crown to his cheek. The socket was empty. Putting his knife in his belt a moment he wrapped the cloth around his hand, and then he pulled his weapon out.
“You’re going to say quite explicitly, ‘Damn, that hurt.’”
Bandanna slashed at her left shoulder. She blocked his knife and then kicked him in his chin. Falling back he crushed the lamp.
She jabbed the sword forward for his chest, but he knocked the blade away and grabbed her hand, his looks betrayed his strength. Kicking her foot up into his nuts, she withdrew.
“You’re better than I thought.”
“I’ve got myself a slayer,” Bandanna howled, and jigged from foot to foot. “The boys at the Pit ain’t going to believe this. Are you her?”
Beatrix watched with unhidden disgust as he gave his rotten smile. A piece of crust fell from his mustache to his collar. What the hell was this man smoking? Did he know she was an assassin, did someone send him to get her? What was this Slayer?
“I might be a Slayer?” Beatrix got her bag from the table, and lashed it over her shoulder. Making sure he was still laughing in glee, she dropped her phone in. “Depends on who sent you?”
“I’ve got myself a slayer,” Bandanna cracked his neck. He stood his ground and glared at her. “You’re taller than I expected.”
She snorted. “What the hell is this? Let’s just get this over with okay.”
“I want to savor this, The Slayer, I’m going to kill THE SLAYER.” He became louder with every word. His nasty mouth did it’s best to pronounce his decree. “I wish the boys were here to see it. But no, your little girl show came out of the woodwork and chopped them all down.”
“I’m a killer, what can I say,” Beatrix slid toward the door. Her eyes darting, tracking Bandanna. “Am I going to kill you or what?”
She shook her head, but it was definitely a roar. Shit.
He rushed at her, and she kicked him in the middle of his chest.
Bandanna fell back a few inches. His eye glowed yellow, and his face became bumpy. What in the hell was this all about? And Beatrix knew, if she was going to get out of it, she’d have to do it now.
Forgetting his knife on the floor, he dived for her. And in a split second Beatrix sliced from his right shoulder to his left hip.
He stumbled back, the sound of his spurs finally settling in Beatrix’s ears. His face was normal, if it could have been described that way in the first place.
“Damn . . . that hurt.”
Beatrix went through the door, not looking back. Why did they never believe her?
Going to the office she rummaged through his files, if they could be called that and snatched the copy of her fake I.D. from his folders. Then she looked for the cash box he had earlier, took the money. She wiped her finger prints off.
She darted to her car.
She wasn't going to rest tonight.
There was any aching pain in the back of her head, and it seemed that it would be nagging her all day. A hundred miles, she had driven, only stopping once to get some gas and that was close to three in the morning. Now where was she? Scooting to the passenger side of her car she looked out into the desert , the few shrubs managing to block her view of the road.
“Just my luck,” Picking up her phone she dialed Wade. She got his voice mail.
“Slayer, need to know what it is, where it is, and if I need to kill it.”