Duo Perspectivae

Skeletons. Curse. Murders. Follow Tike Henezingson on her twisted journey with the worst friend ever. From the electric fence of the compound where she meets her father, to the exotic, hidden jungle of her friends' hideout, Tike must find a way to rid herself of her age-old curse. Will she survive? Will she become a murderer, just like her friends? And will she ever find a way to live happily with her whole family?


8. A Cup of Lead

Russell Henezingson, Day 39 of My Journal.


I watched as the door bashed open, and my life went in slow motion for at the most 5 seconds, long enough for Theo to take a shot right past my neck. My daughter had obviously had enough of this. She ran straight forward and pulled of a painful front kick to his unmentionables, which will stay unmentionable because I don't know who'd end up with this journal at the end of my line, so I'd rather not risk my reputation being destroyed in a simple book. I was woken by a rather painful slap in the face and saw Theo's body staring blankly at me on the floor. He was knocked out, clearly. I was very impressed by my daughter, and if this all gets cleared out then I might buy her a new laptop too. Tike smiled slyly at me and I finally realized how good at her job she actually was, and I wondered what her Master would be like, if I ever met her. She elbowed the window with all her might, and for her age it was pretty strong. The lead from the window finally gave way after many a beatings from Tike. Lead smashed down onto many of the awaiting guards, waiting for the cue word from Theodoric, and yet they were unaware of the... Little... Meeting he and my daughter had. 


She pulled me down and through the smashed window with my tie, my favourite too, used in the 1920's for English spies infiltrating the German base. This very same tie put us forward at least 3 years in the war. I felt the cold, sharp glass brush against my arm and shivered. My life was going in slow motion, my daughters long, red hair brushing against my cheek, her cold blue eyes resisting eye contact yet again. Gravity took control and pulled us down to Earth. Hundreds of bodies cushioning our fall onto forthcoming concrete, all but one mortal enemies to me. But one, of course, being the tall red-headed body of my Tike. She stared at me, directly in the eyes, for the first time since the fencident. The bodies beneath us began to move, and we started to slide down the mound of people like a compulsory stage dive, pushing us off them rather than wanting us to stay in their area. Sweat and metallic scent fusion filled the air around us, a scent we were not used to, even with our foul career. 


One of the guards was smart enough to finally decide to get up and attempt to arrest us both. Let's just say it didn't work out well for him or anyone else in the immediate vicinity, because it was that moment when I realised that my daughter had been mingling with people within the Dark Art Community. Also, if my sources were correct, against the will of her master. Something that was not heard of in this watery wasteland of a planet. The massive orb of fire flew up into the air, raining down smaller orbs onto those who attempted to shoot it down. Hot magma and flame poured down onto the gang of guards huddled together in a small circle, killing many people within that circle. I hope not many of them had families, otherwise she'd have to be going through LOTS of paperwork, and she knew it. I could already see the regret in her eyes as the last remaining specks of flame burned through the last few guards' bulletproof jackets and scorched their bare skin beneath. I'm pretty sure all of Australia shivered in their beds as the sound of 21 guns falling out of 21 dead hands. I threw up a little in mouth, yet only reminded me of my starvation. I hadn't eaten in days and wasn't expecting to start now. Every year in my dad's family tradition, the youngest generation of Henezingson kids would not eat for a year to remind themselves of the pain and suffering that they had caused their parents. This tradition was usually done by the son of the family, and we had not yet adjusted the rules for daughters, Tike being the only daughter for... 100 years. We totally weren't a sexist family.


We'd been fighting through this massive crowd of people for the past 5 minutes. I had left my hands and feet to do the work, while I let my mind drift off to think about, well, anything, really. I looked across the unmoving bodies to Tike, and thought about exactly how dangerous she was with a crossbow and dagger combination. Nasty, for sure. Wouldn't want to see her with a katana, let alone a rifle or semi-automatic. My vision blurred by the amount of red blood flying in the air (Tike still wasn't the best at being clean with what she did, a killer rather then a born assassin-spy hybrid like myself). As I wiped the bloody out of my eyes, I watched as my daughter sitting smugly a top of a pile of young men, flexed her fingers and bounced off the stomach of a man called Pete, back-flipped and landed perfectly. British Olympians would have been proud to be represented by her.

"Those gymnastic lessons paid off, you nearly took my head off with that flip!" I could have sworn I heard her mutter something close to 'That was the plan', but shook that thought out of my mind as it troubled me to think of my kin saying something like that to my face. 


Tike moved down the thin, concrete path and subtly put up two fingers in my direction, and old fashioned way of saying 'Stay there, or I'll make you stay there myself'. I'd have protested, but I wasn't in the mood for fighting with her, I had plenty of that when she was a moody teenager. Whilst keeping my eyes on her, I moved to a safer spot, crawled inside a hollow tree making as little as noise as possible, out of line of sight from anyone she might call as backup or snipers that had come late to the party. If I listened closely, I could hear the sound of her HQ in the background questioning her on the events that happened, and asking her co-ordinates so that 'A chopper can land and evict you of the situation'. They were discussing me, and however much I hated hacking and eavesdropping in general, I pulled out a small hacking device and an even smaller radio and comms unit out of the President's back pocket. I felt amazed just watching my own fingers fly across the flat keys of my old unit, still unsure of how it was possible for something so fragile to move so quickly. Tuning in, I began to think that this wasn't the best idea as I had already heard Tike having a heated conversation with her master, it must have been.


"Oh, Tike, it seems your father has joined in on this discussion. How kind of you to join us, Mr...?"

"Henezingson." I could practically feel my daughters river-blue eyes boring into my rotten hide-out.

"Mr Henezingson," Only the Devil himself would know what she could do with my name now. "would you care to join your daughter in her career? We could use a person like you. After the unexpected accident with the guards, as you know of, we're quite a few fresh members down!" She sounded like a salesman. Advertising her job spaces to everyone in the area, HQ must hate her for doing this. She is in charge, but they run a partial democracy within the compounds rather than in #2's which runs on full-Antarctic-Treaty-democracy. I could hear the nerds behind the computer screens, the comms, behind the walls, arguing about me. Going through Pros and Cons, many of them calculating the odds of their success with me involved. It seemed positive. The choice was now down to me, I was, as you might say, the tiebreaker of this situation. I watched as her hand moved slowly upwards from her hip to hover next to her old Astra 3000. Swiftly, I clambered out of the trunk and walked slowly away from my daughter.

"Well Mr Henezingson," Her fingers brushed subtly against the cold, metallic body of the Astra. he concrete bellow my feet felt rough under my expensive leather shoes. "you don't really have a choice in the matter!" Tike's hand grasped the end of the gun and quick as a flash undid the bands holding it in. "You know what to do, PinkFox." PinkFox? What kind of code name is that? "Dad... I'm sorry..." I didn't have enough time to compute the message before she completely ruined my memory. She pulled out her holstered gun and pointed it at the door of the Ford. Out of my closing eyes I saw a smart Ford Escort. I wobbled around, my cut and bleeding hand clutched my head as the sleek door of the Ford opened. The very same Ford I had arrived in.


The legs of the person exiting the car were thin, and covered in 30 denier tights. Her pinstriped skirt tight against her thighs, her off-white blouse that wind pushed against her stomach. The black blazer that covered her arms were stained slightly with tea, and the stainer had obviously put the milk in first. Any Briton in their right mind would have been able to see the lighter stain, rather than the full coffee coloured stain proper tea would have made. This is why Americans don't make better tea than we Brits can. With my last few seconds of sight she winked at me, and I realised finally who she was. And I wasn't about to give up her cover to the agent that has to 'look after' my case when I die. She saw Tike with her Astra, ducked behind the car door, cast a small ball of ice-fire and hid it behind her back, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

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