Part 18
Theresa swung her baton, snapping the bulged tip against the spine of the man in front of her. He let out a cry and collapsed to his knees. Iago stood behind her with a flashlight, darting the beam of light around the room as he looked over the people cowering in the darkness. Mothers clutching their children in fear as another loud crack echoed through the room as Theresa's baton struck across the man's ribcage.
His name was Manuel Alvarez and he was a coyote. He kept his customers locked away in the very building he now found himself trapped in with Theresa and Iago. Those he couldn't ransom to their families already living in the country he butchered and fed to his kennel of fighting dogs.
Again the baton whipped through the air and crashed across his back, he arched in pain as he squirmed on the dirty concrete floor. Theresa stepped forward and pressed her boot across his throat. He gasped for air, the veins at his temples bulging and his eyes wide.
"I am not sure about this," Theresa said.
"About what?" Iago asked as he shined the light in Manuel's face.
"This. It seems too easy. We caught him by surprise," she said.
Iago turned back and walked towards the open door. Lying on the floor just inside was Manuel's pistol, just where he had dropped it when Theresa inflicted the first strike at his right elbow.
He bent down and picked it up from the floor and said, "Are you proposing we give this back to him?"
Theresa glanced back at Iago's sillhouette as he stood in the doorway with the handgun in his hand.
"No, that would be stupid. However, this holds no fascination," she said as she removed her boot from Manuel's throat.
He cowered on the floor, curled up in a ball, whimpering.
"If you're that bored we could just kill him and be done with it," Iago said as he returned to Theresa in the middle of the room.
"I am sure Eleven would not be satisfied with that," she said. "It is also too simple and there is no enjoyment to be found. Merely putting him down like a lame horse, it would be distasteful. Look around you, Iago, these people. Huddling in the darkness. Terrified of us, of him. Smell the air-"
"It smells like piss and shit in here, I'd really rather not," he interrupted.
"Precisely my point," Theresa continued. "He forced them to live in this squalor. A clean and relatively painless death does not seem suitable. If they should suffer, why should he escape the suffering owed to him?"
"I suppose we could leave him here to rot," he said with a shrug.
Suddenly Manuel's hand wrapped around the end of Theresa's baton and tore it from her grip. He swung hard and the baton struck her ankle. Her eyebrow raised as he struck her leg again to no effect. He quickly scurried off into the darkness and out of sight.
"Do you think that will leave a bruise?" Theresa asked as she knelt down, pressing the area where she'd been struck with her fingertips.
Iago chuckled, "I'd imagine so, love. Are we still feeling the doldrums?"
"Slightly. My interest is not quite at a fever pitch just yet. I am mildly entertained," she said.
Iago turned back to the doorway and slammed the door shut. Theresa stood motionless in the center of the room as the light panned around the room slowly until it stopped at Manuel as he hid behind another man. Manuel held the baton tight across the man's throat as he glared into the light.
Theresa casually stepped over to them and Manuel began wildly swinging the baton at her as he tried to back away against the metal wall.
"He's got quite the fight in him, doesn't he?" Iago said as Theresa caught the baton mid-swing and ripped it from Manuel's hand.
The baton flew back across the room and she gripped him by his hair, forcefully dragging him out from behind the man he used as a shield. He flailed erratically at her, shouting in spanish. She dragged him back to the middle of the room and slammed his face into the concrete floor.
A few moments passed as he lie motionless, blood dribbling from his nose. Theresa stepped back and with all her weight, swung her foot forward into his ribs. She felt them break and give way as her kick followed through. His head lifted and he cried out in pain before curling up into a ball once again, clutching his ribs.
"If I am to continue in this profession, as it were, I should invest in some sort of torture kit," she said.
She raised her leg high in the air and brought her heel down into the center of Manuel's chest and a small geyser of blood erupted from his mouth.
"Otherwise," she continued. "I will be forced to resort to this every time I am to torture or kill someone and I would rather not devote years to some sort of martial art to use my body as a precise weapon of pain."
"That sort of thing might come in useful though, self-defense isn't it? And it keeps you in shape. A little bag of horrors really is a bit more becoming of you than some karate business," Iago said.
Theresa looked back to Iago and held out her hand, "I concur. Gun please. I think that I have attained as much pleasure from this as is possible."
Iago nonchalantly tossed her the pistol as he reached into his pocket. Theresa caught it, cocked, and fired a single bullet into Manuel's head. She untucked her shirt and wiped the pistol clean of fingerprints before dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. She stepped over to the side of the room and picked her baton up from the floor and pressed the button at the handle. She pressed the end against the wall and the baton collapsed to nearly a quarter of its extended size.
Together they walked to the door of the building and Iago pulled it open, Theresa stepped outside as Iago turned back into the room and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"You're all free to go! Vamanos!" He shouted.
Hours later Theresa sat alone at the club bar sipping from a glass of whiskey. It was a tuesday afternoon, there were a couple of businessmen sitting around but otherwise the place was dead. On stage was Kiki, one of the b-string dancers who tried her best to cover her c-section scar with make up.
Theresa's head bobbed slightly with the rhythm of the music that pounded from the speakers throughout the club. She took a sip of whiskey and reached into the pocket of her suit jacket, retrieving a pack of cigarillos. She pulled the last from the pack and placed it clumsily between her lips.
Her eyes turned to Marshall as he stood behind the bar, looking over the top shelf liquors.
"Marshall," she said, her voice drowned out by the music. "Marshall!"
He glanced back at her and she pointed to the tip of the cigarillo between her lips. He reached into his pocket and drew out his lighter, tossing it onto the bar before turning his attention back to the bottles. She snatched the lighter up into her hands and lit her cigarillo. She took a few puffs and threw the lighter at Marshall, it struck the back of his head and he looked around suspiciously.
Finally Iago exited the employees only door and wandered over to the bar, sitting on the stool beside Theresa's.
"Marshall!" He shouted.
Marshall sighed and grabbed a glass, quickly filling it with beer and setting it in front of Iago who gave him a nod and a smile.
"So, what are Madame Theresa's plans for the night?" Iago asked as he leaned towards Theresa.
"To drink. Then to return home. Then to sleep," she said.
"That's not very fun now, is it?" He said, taking a drink from his glass.
"I am having quite the time," she said, exhaling smoke. "In a few more drinks I will be optimally drunk."
He chuckled, "You're not supposed to inhale cigar smoke, you know."
Theresa shrugged and finished the last sip of whiskey in her glass.
She set it down on the bar loudly and once again Iago shouted, "Marshall!"
Marshall turned around, glanced at Iago's glass, then at Theresa's. He reached back, blindly pulling a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and refilled her glass. She gave it a quick stir with her finger and took another drink. She took a few puffs from her cigarillo and sighed.
Obviously this sort of work was not where her talents truly lie. Anyone can take a life. It took no skill and very little intelligence. Even animals can kill each other. There was no fun to be had yet there was nobody else as capable. Certainly it was beneath her and Eleven knew so but he tasked her with it because she knew how to do it effectively and how to avoid incriminating herself. Perhaps someday he would find someone else who enjoyed the act but until then it was left to her.
She remembered back to her first kill. She took such time with it, torturing her creator and captor. Every cut made was with perfect precision and a steady pace. She could still hears his screams. That was her calling. It took a careful hand to inflict maximum punishment without killing the subject. It had a beautiful sense of balance to it.
Hours later Theresa climbed down from her barstool. She glanced over at Iago who was chatting with one of the dancers. She burped and staggered towards the door. The room seemed to spin slowly as she grew closer to the door. She pushed past Denny at the door and stumbled out of the club.
She stood outside the door forave yo a moment, reaching into her pocket for another cigarillo but finding the pack empty. She grumbled to herself and tossed the empty packet to the asphalt. Gradually she reached her car, taking slow, meandering steps, trying to compensate for the world that spun around her. She pulled her keys from her pocket and tried several times to insert the key into the lock. Finally she hit her mark and opened the door.
She shoved the keys back into her pocket and climbed into the driver's seat. Moments passed as she looked around inside the car, she looked down at her lap, then reached under the seat, trying to find her keys. Again she grumbled as she checked her jacket pocket, then the pocket of her dress shirt.
Suddenly Iago appeared at her car door.
She lurched back, startled and slurred at him, "Where did you come from?! Are you a ghost? I do not believe in ghosts."
"Give me your keys, love," he said, holding his hand out towards her.
"What?" She asked. "No, no. I can drive. I just have to find my keys."
He rolled his eyes, "You're absolutely pissed, I don't think you could make it out of the fucking lot without hitting something."
"I will hit you! In the face!" She argued, then laughed. "You are not going to trick me, you cunning negro."
Finally Theresa found her keys and Iago quickly snatched them from her hand.
"Hey!" She protested.
"Move over, I'll take you home," he said.
Theresa shrugged and moved over to the passenger seat as Iago sat down in the driver's seat. He drove the keys into the ignition and carefully backed out of the parking spot.
"Take me home, Hoke," Theresa sneered, letting out another laugh afterward.
"Yes, Miss Sebben," Iago replied quietly.
"He was good in that movie," she said.
"He usually is," he said as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"Have you seen Predator?" She asked, reaching into her pocket but finding it empty. "He was in that too."
"That was Danny Glover, love," he chuckled.
"Not the sequel!" Theresa said loudly. "The first one! With the Governator in it!"
"Morgan Freeman was not in Predator," he argued.
"Yes he was, and he was in the other film," she argued back. "The one with the retarded fellow who played golf."
Iago stopped at the red light and said, "I've no bloody idea what you're talking about."
"With Bob Barker, he fights the retarded fellow to neuter him. It is a fine piece of cinema," Theresa explains.
"Happy Gilmore?" Iago asks.
"That's it!" She cheers.
"You're thinking of Carl Weathers, love, and Happy Gilmore wasn't retarded," he says.
"Yes, he was," she said. "And I know it was Carl Weathers, he was in Driving Miss Daisy."
"Morgan Freeman was in Driving Miss Daisy, not Carl Weathers!" Iago said, becoming exasperated as the car parked in the parking lot of Theresa's apartment building.
"You are still Hoke to me," she sneered.
Iago opened the door and climbed out of the car, walking around the side and assisting Theresa as she struggled to walk. He walked up the steps leading tot he front door of the apartment building as she followed behind stumbling. As she reached the stairs she staggered forward and gradually ascended, catching her foot on the top step and tumbled forward, landing on her stomach.
"Who in the fuck built these stairs?!" She shouted as Iago knelt down and helped her up.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and walked her to the door where the doorman gave a slight nod and opened the doors for the two of them. Slowly the two made it down the hallway to the elevators where Theresa wriggled from his grasp and sat down in the corner of the elvator.
"What floor?" Iago asked.
Theresa mumbled.
"What?" He asked again.
"17, 303," she mumbled before finally falling asleep.
Theresa awoke the next day naked in bed with her clothes leading a trail to the front door.