Part 7
"So, am I going to be shadowed every time I work?" Claudia asked as she sat in the passenger's seat of Theresa's car.
"No, only for the first few. I know that you can do your job without issue, I came primarily as moral support and in the rare chance something does go wrong I can take care of it," Theresa replied.
Claudia reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She drew one from the pack and placed it between her lips through the slit in her red bandanna and the tip ignited. She took a long drag, resting her head against the headrest, staring up through the tinted sunroof.
"So . . . why'd you take the hand?" She asked curiously.
Theresa's eyebrow raised, "Hmm?"
"Jorgen said you had a job once with him and Viveka and that you cut off the guy's hand," she explained. "He figured you kept it as a trophy but that's serial killer kinda shit and you don't seem like a serial killer. So, why did you take it?"
Theresa stared off silently into the middle distance.
"The one I had was broken," Theresa murmured.
"So . . you cut off the guy's hand and . . . cut off yours and stuck his on your stump?" Claudia asked.
Theresa nodded, "Yes."
Claudia tilted her head and exhaled smoke, "What did you go to a hospital? What if you rejected it or something? I mean don't they have to be a certain blood type or some shit for that?"
"I am the universal recipient," Theresa said. "No, I did it myself. One of the benefits of being incapable of feeling pain; I suppose he told you of that as well. I essentially live on immunosuppressants."
"Wouldn't that make it so you're sick all the time?" Claudia asked.
Theresa sighed, "More drugs. Vaccines. Antibiotics."
"Wow. That sounds . . . shitty," Claudia murmured.
Theresa shrugged, "It is better than the consequence."
"Yeah, I guess," Claudia said with a begrudging nod. "Wait, so you were a doctor or something? I mean you'd have to be to just hack off limbs and just stick them back on. Plus how else would you get all the drugs and stuff?"
Theresa stared at Claudia for a moment. Slowly she reached over to the cigarette between Claudia's lips and snatched it with her fingers. Theresa took a puff from the cigarette and inhaled deeply, sinking into her seat.
"You could've just asked for a smoke," Claudia said.
"I did not want A smoke. I wanted YOUR smoke," Theresa replied. "I was not a doctor, no. However I was implanted with vast amounts of medical knowledge. Instructed. I learned. I suppose that the only thing that would keep me from being a doctor is the piece of paper and years wasted."
Theresa handed the cigarette back to Claudia.
"What was your dad a doctor or something?" Claudia asked, snatching back the cigarette.
Theresa shook her head, "I would rather not speak of it."
Claudia shrugged, "Oh . . okay."
They sat silently together in the car for several moments. Claudia flicked her cigarette out of the window and hastily rolled it up, shivering slightly from the cold.
"So who's the guy? What'd he do?" She asked, changing the subject.
"He killed an infant," Theresa replied without missing a beat.
"What?!" Claudia asked loudly.
"He was driving drunk and crashed into another automobile. The passenger was pregnant. The impact resulted in the child in her womb being killed. Eight months."
"Is this the normal thing?" Claudia asked. "I mean, are there lots of jobs like this?"
"No, it is a special case. He has a long history of driving while drunk and the woman was Denny's sister," Theresa explained.
Claudia clasped her arms around her torso for warmth, "So I kill him?"
"As fitting as it would be, no. Denny could easily do such himself," Theresa said with a shrug. "Eleven said to 'Beat the living shit out of the bastard'."
"Are you gonna take pictures for Denny?" Claudia asked.
Theresa shook her head, "No, that is evidence that could be tied to him or to Eleven. The police bother us enough as it is, that would further aggravate matters. Denny was told about the job and he knows that it will be taken care of. It would also be wise to refrain from using your talents so obviously."
Claudia shuddered, "So . . . I just beat him up? I'm not ten feet tall and made of rippling muscle, you know. What am I supposed to do? Kick him in the balls to bring him down? That's all I can do if I can't just set him on fire."
Theresa nodded, "Look in the glove compartment."
Claudia tilted her head in curiosity and leaned forward, lifting the latch on the glove compartment. The door popped open and out fell a cylindrical object encased neatly in wrapping paper. It tumbled to the floorboards and Claudia closed the compartment door, snatching up the object.
She smiled as she examined it, "A present?"
Theresa nodded as Claudia eagerly unwrapped the red and green paper revealing a short, black cylinder with a button at one end.
"It's a . . . thing," she said quietly.
"It is a riot baton," Theresa explained. "You press the button and flick your wrist."
Claudia pressed the button and flicked her wrist, Theresa quickly leaned away as the baton extended from the end that came within inches of striking her face.
Claudia giggled nervously, "Oops."
She pushed the end of the baton back into the handle and slipped it into the pocket of her coat.
"I thought that you would find it to be quite an equalizer," Theresa said.
"So I just crack him across the skull?" Claudia asked.
"If you want to kill him, yes. I prefer to target the knees. A good blow to the knee will drop most people. They are weak points, have you ever tried to walk with an injured knee?" Theresa asked rhetorically.
Claudia shrugged.
Theresa glanced at her watch.
"He should be leaving any moment," she said. "Get ready."
Claudia nodded and slipped the baton into the pocket of her coat. Her small hand grasped the door handle and tugged it, opening the door with a pop and slipping out of the passenger's seat and into the cold outside. She shut the passenger's side door or the car and shivered, slipping her arms into the pockets of her coat and pulling it tight around her body.
In the comfort of the driver's seat Theresa watched Claudia carefully. In the distance she spotted the target, little more than a vague blur of red walking towards them, blinking as he passed under the lamps like a malfunctioning stop light. Claudia glanced in his direction and ducked down low between his car and Theresa's, her hand in her pocket, gripping the handle of her baton.
Theresa slouched in her seat, turning sideways to rest her feet in the passenger seat. She was confident Claudia would have no trouble, all that was left was for her to enjoy the show.
As the man drew closer he could be seen wearing a red suit with white trim, a white costume beard hanging around his neck. Theresa chuckled at the irony of it as he stepped between his car and hers, pulling his keys from the pocket of his bright red pants.
As he pulled open the door, Claudia snapped her wrist and the baton extended. She leapt out from behind the car and swung the baton, striking him at the knees. He dropped to the asphalt in the blink of an eye and Theresa quickly moved into the passenger's seat, standing on her knees as she peered out through the window.
She bit her bottom lip as Claudia swung repeatedly; lifting the baton up high above her head and striking the man in the head, then ribs, then arms. She seemed to target any place left exposed with an unrelenting fury, a blood lust. She shouted seemingly random expletives at him as he whimpered and pleaded for mercy only to receive none.
Moments passed and Claudia's arms grew tired, she took to stomping at him. His face was now bloody and bruised, already showing signs of swelling, the white trim of his suit matted and dirty with blood and grime. Finally she gave him a solid kick to the stomach, leaving him gasping as wheezing before retracting her baton and slipping it into her pocket.
"Maybe next time you'll fucking think, you scum," she muttered under her breath as she opened the passenger side door of Theresa's car.
Theresa slipped back into the driver's seat and fastidiously buckled her safety belt, glancing over at Claudia as she did the same.
Theresa shivered, "That was beautiful."
Claudia raised her eyebrow, "Um . . . thanks?"
Theresa nodded and turned the key. The engine roared to life.
"I mean it," Theresa said as she back out of the parking spot. "It was magnificent."
The headlights of her car struck the limp husk of a man that laid beside his car. He feebly tried to cover his eyes with one hand to shield them from the light.
"Look at your work, Claudia." She said, staring intensely at the man. "That is a result of your actions. Your passion and fury and hatred. Your righteous vengeance. It is beautiful."
Claudia shrugged and shoved a cigarette between her lips, "All I see is some bloody fuckhead who had it coming."
Theresa blushed, "I suppose that we cannot all see the beauty created by our own hands."