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?


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4. Necromancy and Politics

Russell Henezingson, Day 17 of my Journal.

 

We went shopping together, in an American shopping centre, called something close to Wall-Mart,  Summer and I, my code-name being Winter, hers Birch, for this particular operation. Of course, it was after she nursed me back to health with her healing hands, and of course, we didn't go for food. We do that on-line with the 'Uncooperative'. No, no, no. We both had our separate... Businesses. We just had a feeling we had to do it together. If you know what I mean. What am I even doing here? In... Where?! The ladies bathroom? What? How?I don't even know how I got here... I have to get out before anyone sees me, God, that'd be awful! Oh my God... How am I ever going to explain this to Summer? How the hell did I get here? Summer better explain this properly. Birch even. Must get used to it. If we are ever going to be... Together. No. No, let's not turn this into a romance, comrades is enough for me. For Tike.

 

Now, let's get out of this... Sweet-smelling, soap-dispensing madness. I don't think anyone is in here... Toileting? I guess I can use that word here. Right. Let's bust open this door and get the hell out of here. Oh, really. Locked if you were wondering. Great. Fantastic. I think I have a spare lock-pick somewhere around here. OH MY JE- Um. Hey, that's not fair, it fell in the bloody toilet. Oh, oh fantastic, you know what else? Someone didn't flush... And it's that time of the month. I hope they have toilet paper in this hell-hole. Well, there's nothing in the dispenser. On the floor? None. Well, let's get hands-deep. Oh my gosh... It's slimy?! And... Puffy? What in the actual... There we... Nope! No you don't. Well, at least we have the lock-pick now. My God, I'm going to have to wash my hands real good when I get out. I haven't picked a lock in ages... I hope this works. Oop, left a bit... No... Right, Angle, angle! Done... Now, let's go find Birch.

 

There she is, over - Wait... Who is that? What is Birch doing? What is HE doing? I think she's... She's... No... She can't be...! Dead? Ugh... Those little scumbags... He doesn't seem to have backup, though. Wait... He's saying something...

"... To never mess with me again! Now, I just have to find your comrade... I heard he liked you, such a shame. Huh... I'll get his daughter next. And maybe I'll find his long-lost son on the way. Finish off those Henezingson kids for good." Wait. Something  isn't right. Is Summer...? She's not my wife. Hang on... My daughter survived Kyaria? Well played... Ach, she'll have had her first transition today. I should... Not... have been there. It's her problem, now. She's, what now, 20? Yeah. 20. I'm... I'm... An age... Oh G-

"Hello again, Russell. I've heard that you've had a child. A little girl. How is she?" Great. Out of all of the people in this warehouse section he saw me.

"Hello Theodoric." I turned around, my eyes met his, and our sudden meeting turned into a stare-down.

"She's just had her first transition. They call her The Phantom Killer."

 

I watched quietly as he pulled out a black body bag from the boot of a Ford Escort from the 1960's and showed the world how a spy shoved a skeleton into a black bag. A bag of bones, you might say. He threw me into the back seat and drove as fast as he could to, from what I could tell (He didn't zip up the bag properly, and put me next to a window, very sloppy work if I say so myself), a large used-to-be-white American compound. Some poor father had her little princess over for her 5th party with all of her friends and age-appropriate cousins. The security guards surrounded us, and as I surveyed the area Theordoric opened up the body bag. I noticed several things, for example, a bush with many leaves unsettled by the side of the concrete path almost as if someone had attempted a Carageson Method from about the 1960's on some poor guard and yet failed on an awesome scale in hiding the body, and a small rustle in the bush on the large mound of lush grass and greenery.

 

Theodoric half dragged me, half pushed me through the extravagant doors and into a large white open hall with dark, Texas-inspired dead plants and a very fantasy-style staircase, reminding me of the time me and Tike went to Disney Land - Paris to see 'Princess and the Pauper'. Many happy memories were made that day, like Disney was the first place in which she knocked a guy out, which is a big milestone in many spies' young lives and babyhood. He pulled me up the stairs, still in my skeletal appearance, to a room labelled quite clearly as 'President Obama's Office' which made me wonder why my arch nemesis would take me to another countries president, when I wasn't interested in America or politics.

Expectantly, Theodoric stared at me with his dull, grey eyes and sighed.

"I brought you here today because I need your help." He said in an even duller voice, with a slight hint of a Russian-American accent.

"I know I've been exceedingly bad to you, but I do expect you to help with my... Project..." Anyone needing a stereotypical bad guy, just ask Theodoric, I believe he's open for new contracts, no matter how big or how small.

"What if I say no?" I asked, a genuine question, not just to allow him to grow on his maniacalness.

"Well, let's just say that your daughter is here and so are my men. They know who she is. They know how to break her emotionally." I thought back to my little girl, who knocked a guy out when she was 7, and shook it off easily like when I first killed a man. Only with cuter eyes and a better final line. 

 

I thought about what they would do to her, probably only surround her and see what happens if they get close enough for her to kick them with style. Maybe they'll water-board her. I know how much she gets hurt by old torture tactics, she doesn't know how to deflect them strategically. Her fear of water probably wouldn't help either. He left me wondering about what information they wanted from a 20 year old girl after her first transition and her first -Official- mission. I stared at him in the eyes and attempted to study the cold man behind the cold cage of a human being, yes, the one who threatened to kill an ex-army husband's daughter just to get back at a simple, innocent gambling mistake that a poor old drunkard made.

 

He sighed again, obviously unamused with my non-vocal response, and proceeded to knock on the door of the office, put on a pair of sunglasses and walked inside.

"Mr President?" He sounded nervous, probably wondering what the President of a Star-Spangled banner would think of having a skeleton inside his pristine office. I wondered how many security personnels Theodoric had to go through to get this meeting. He went on to say about the threat of death from secret British agents, and kicked me when I tried to protest against that, saying that the Brits in question were just here for training. I tuned out for the rest of the conversation, and stupid me decided to tune in when they began to talk about duplicating the Presidents body. Necromancy. Ugh. He lectured me on what my mission was, and how to look when my daughter burst in claiming to be a security officer, then told me to 'Shut up and continue the transition' after he'd wasted his mana on duplicating Obama. Damn, Americans are going to hate me after this.

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