The Evils That Men Do (Part 2) (583 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.86 on 15 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by ChaosJester <jesterfool18.at.excite.com> (View user info) at 2007-05-09 07:10:49 EDT
Part One: http://www.ubersite.com/m/101457
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The next morning Ted went to a nearby gun store and ordered another pistol. That evening, after work, he took Anita to the living room and showed her his old revolver.
"This, Anita," Ted began, "is called a .357 Magnum. It has excellent stopping power, near pin-point accuracy when fired properly, and, if all else fails, will do a wonderful job of rendering someone unconscious if you need to pistol-whip them." Ted grinned briefly. "Unfortunately, it has less rounds than, say, even a .45 semi-automatic pistol and takes a really long time to reload, especially in a combat situation, when your lifespan can be measured in seconds. It's also heavy as all hell, as you will learn today."
Anita's eyes were wide and sparkling as she quietly listened to Ted while he demonstrated the proper stances when firing a pistol. "All right. Forget 90% of the shit you see in movies. Anyone who holds a pistol to the side with one hand while trying to shoot something is a complete moron. I know it looks cool, that's why the movies do it; unfortunately, the "Die, Muthu-Fucku, Die!" method won't let you hit the broad side of a barn, even if you're standing next to it. Also, firing with two pistols, one in each hand, is similarly asinine, unless you spend an unholy amount of time practicing it.
'The proper way to handle a pistol while you are firing it is to hold it firmly with two hands, wrapping your dominant hand over the grip and re-enforcing it with your other hand. You fire the weapon by squeezing the trigger with the index finger of your dominant hand while the index finger of your off-hand is extended along the side of the weapon. This is done because you naturally aim at something you are pointing at. This method simply builds on that instinct." As he spoke, Ted demonstrated the grip he was describing, then placed the weapon in Anita's hands. Slowly, the young woman assumed a similar grip, while Ted modified it until he was satisfied. Then, the older man took the weapon back and resumed speaking.
"Notice when I spoke about firing the weapon earlier, I said you Squeeze the trigger, not Pull it. When you pull on the trigger, your hands, and therefore your aim, shift from side to side to a greater or lesser degree. You correct this through practice. Lots and lots of practice. But more on that later.
'Next, we will focus on the proper way to stand while trying to put a large hole in someone. Now, there are two main schools of thought where pistol stances are concerned. I was taught to fire a pistol by soldiers, so that's what I know, by and large. This technique calls for you to face your opponent directly, rather than shifting your body to the side as most law enforcement officers are trained to do. This method is designed to make the maximum use of your protective gear, such as a bullet-proof vest. After all, your sides are rarely protected as much as your front and back. At any rate, the next step is to bring your pistol up to your solar plexus (that's the middle of your abdomen) after you draw it. At this point, the weapon is already pointed in the vague direction of whatever you want dead. You do this so that, in case you accidentally pop off a round, it's still going in the general direction that you want it to go, rather than , say, your foot or something.
'The next step is to gradually squeeze the trigger while you are extending your arms. This is where all the hours and hours of practice that you will soon experience is going to pay off. You must instinctually be able to coincide the firing of the weapon with the moment that you have fully extended your arms. This is done to minimize the amount of time you spend in that extended position. After all, a pistol is heavy; the less time you hold it away from your body, the less time your muscles have to become exhausted. Once the muscles in your forearms are tired, it is impossible to hold a steady aim."
The lesson continued for several hours with Anita experimenting with what she had just been taught while Ted looked on and corrected her mistakes. The young woman was a quick study, so Ted started to feel confident that Anita could practice dry-firing the weapon without supervision. After giving Anita a quick class on disassembling and cleaning the weapon, Ted left it in her care. Three days later, Ted took Anita to the local firing range. Anita tried valiantly to maintain her grip and stance while firing, but the weapon was simply too heavy for her still weakened strength.
Two evenings later, Ted brought home a small case containing a smaller 9mm Beretta machine pistol. This lighter weapon was much better suited to Anita's small frame, as well as having more than twice the ammo capacity and a much faster reload time than the gigantic revolver. Anita began practicing incessantly.
A few weeks later, Anita was able to hit numerous widely spaced targets in quick succession and was entirely comfortable with reloading on the fly. The strong sense of power and control she now felt was evident in her every movement, and Ted marveled at the change. Still, there was much more to be done.
That evening, as they ate dinner, Ted was unusually quiet. Eventually, Anita put her utensils down and looked Ted in the Eyes. "What's wrong?"
Ted sighed. "Martha told me today that you no longer really need a physical therapist. She said that what little needs to be done now can be quite easily done by yourself. She still wants to see you, but only on a monthly check-up basis."
Anita smiled. "But that good news, right? It means that I'm almost completely recovered."
Ted nodded. "That's quite right. You are, in fact, almost back to normal, physically at least." Ted paused for a moment, then stared, unwaveringly at the younger woman. "Which brings us to another problem. Anita, I need you to be completely honest with me now. Is it your intention to hunt down the men responsible for your assault and rape?"
Anita became very still at Ted's words. Moments later, her eyes filled with tears that spilled over her cheeks as she shut them and nodded. Ted pursed his lips. "Thank you for being honest, but I now find myself in a bit of a quandary. You see," he continued, "I can teach you how to defend yourself, but I lack the skills to train you to become what you so obviously want."
"Well then, what happens now?"
Ted looked away. "I've got a friend. He's been doing what you need to learn since before you were born. I called him up a few weeks ago and he's willing to train you. But, Anita," Ted's eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that was rare for him, "You must understand that it will not be easy. This man is one of the hardest that I have ever known and he will absolutely not coddle you. Under his hand, you will learn a great many terrible things, and they will be extremely painful lessons." Ted took a slow breath and continued. "I know that you've been through a lot of agony, but this is an entirely different world. Once you start down this path, there are precious few opportunities to turn back." With that, Ted's shoulders slumped in a long sigh and he cast his eyes down to his plate.
After a moment, Anita stood up from the table and crossed over to where Ted sat, still refusing to meet her gaze. The young woman knelt beside Ted and gently turned his face to hers. It was the first time since her assault that she had voluntarily touched anyone besides her therapist, and Teds breath caught in his throat.
"Try not to worry too much, Ted," Anita's voice had lost the faint tremor he had heard earlier. "Believe it or not, I've got a pretty good idea of what awaits me, and I'm not afraid." Now, her face took on a surprisingly harsh expression for one so young. "But know this, my friend. I will have my vengeance, no matter the cost."
For a moment, the two of them were locked in that position as if frozen in time; he sitting down in despair, she kneeling beside him with his face in her hands. Then, a floorboard creaked under Anita and, as if a spell had been broken, the world began to move again. Ted stood up and moved towards his bedroom. Just before he closed the door, he stopped and turned to look once more at the fragile human being he was about to cast into hell.
"Be ready to leave tomorrow morning before dawn. Pack light. Don't expect to bring back anything you take with you." Ted turned back and shut the door.
Anita looked at the closed door for a long time. "Good night, Ted," she finally murmured as she started cleaning the table.
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Anita was wondering if they were ever going to arrive at their destination. She, already dressed in simple but rugged hiking clothes, had been waiting for Ted when he stepped out of his bedroom. Without a word, they had gotten into his late-model SUV and had started driving. That had been three hours ago. Right now, they were in the middle of Nowhere. They had passed the last po-dunk town almost 30 minutes ago, and had seen nothing but rolling country-side and the occasional farm since then.
A few minutes later, Ted turned off the paved road onto something that looked like a glorified cattle trail. Twenty minutes later, the trail ended in a sort of cul-de-sac/clearing. A small pathway was visible on the far end, but was soon obscured by trees and assorted brush. Ted stopped the vehicle in the middle of the clearing and turned to Anita.
"This is your last chance. Once you step out of this vehicle, I can no longer keep you safe. I need you to understand that, in this place, there is nothing keeping you from death besides your own strength. The man that you are about to meet will not worry about keeping you alive. You would not be the first person to enter his domain and never leave it." The older man paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "Just...be absolutely sure that this is what you want."
Anita stared at Ted for a moment, as if trying to memorize his face, then she opened the vehicle door and jumped out. The last words she spoke echoed in Ted's mind all during his long drive home.
"You will see me again."
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Anita cautiously walked through the dense undergrowth as she followed the faint trail. Despite her brave words to her only friend, she was absolutely terrified of what awaited her. Still, her hatred, as always, had burned hotter than her fear, so her steps were just as sure as they were cautious.
Eventually, the trail led to another clearing containing an ancient, dilapidated house. Old, flaking white paint lent the building a decayed atmosphere, even as the structure hinted at a grand history ruined long ago. Anita noticed that an old man was quietly sitting on a well-used rocking chair, facing away from her. Wondering if this was the feared teacher, Anita slowly climbed up the porch stairs and drifted closer to the rocking chair.
As she drew closer, Anita noticed that the man must once have been huge. His frame, even sunken in on itself by the weight of his years, was still impressive. She also noticed that the man's left arm was missing from the elbow down. She still couldn't see his face.
"Hello," Anita began. "My name's A-"
"I know your name, whore." The old man's deep voice was like his body; impressive, but with subtle hints of former greatness. Anita was a bit taken aback by the coarseness of his response.
"Uh, excuse me?"
"You heard me the first time, slut." The man finally turned to face her. His face was heavily lined but would have been handsome, in a weathered sort of way, were it not for his eyes. Anita shivered slightly as she gazed into those cold, gray depths. His face was absolutely expressionless as he continued.
"First rule: You never speak except when asked a direct question." Aside from the man cocking his head slightly to the side, there was no change in his demeanor as he continued. "I can tell that you don't really understand what I am and what you think you want to be. Your first lesson begins now. You may think of it as 'Introduction to the Philosophy of being a Sociopath."
The instant his lips had finished speaking those words, the old man leapt up out of his chair, darted behind Anita and had his single whole arm wrapped around her neck before she had even really comprehended that he was moving. Anita discovered that she was no longer able to breathe. Panicking, the young woman began to claw at the withered arm furiously, to no avail. As she was flailing about, a part of Anita's mind registered that the old man was speaking again, still in that same, almost bored tone of voice that he had used earlier.
"I think that it actually might be more merciful if I just killed you right now. I don't think that you are strong enough to deal with what awaits you here." Anita's struggles began to grow weaker as she grew faint from oxygen deprivation. "How does it feel to know that you are about to die, never to have known your revenge? Because, believe me, I am about to kill you right here, unless you convince me not to." The old man gave Anita a small shake. "Well? Are you ready to leave this mortal coil?"
Black spots were dancing in front of Anita's eyes as she stilled her body for one, last attack. The suffocating young woman removed her hands from the arm that was strangling her and drove one hand towards the old man's groin while the other tried to find his eyes. She was till stabbing at his eyes with her fingers as she lost consciousness.
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Several hours later, Anita woke up, still laying on the porch, with a truly horrific headache. The old man was still sitting in his rocking chair. Remembering the man's rule, Anita sat silently, waiting for instructions. Presently, the man spoke, still in that neutral tone of voice.
"Know that you are subject to attack at any time that you remain under my tutelage. If, at any time, I think that you are resisting me with anything less than everything you have, you will die. If you attempt to leave this place without my express permission, you will die. If I ever begin to feel that you no longer want to attain what you came here for, you will die. In fact, it is going to become very hard for you to stay alive. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"I highly doubt that, but you will, soon enough. Now then, there is a small cot in the basement of this house. That is where you will sleep. Once a month, your physical therapist will visit you. You will not speak to her except to give information about your health." The old man was quiet for a few moments. Finally, he said, "You may go now. I recommend that you get some sleep; you will require every bit of it."
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So began the harshest period of Anita's life up to that point. The old man always descended into her room to strike her no less than four times a night; usually more. His blows were always painful and left light bruises, but she never suffered a broken bone. It was only much, much later that she began to appreciate how much control that required.
The young woman's days were spent in furious activity, whether it be learning new techniques for disabling or killing a man with her bare hands, performing ridiculous amounts of physically demanding tasks or discovering ways to sneak quietly through the forest that was quickly becoming her second home. She never knew where the old man was; no matter how stealthily she moved, he somehow always knew where to find her. She dreaded those first few moments of his attacks; he always struck her in similar places so her bruises seemed to stack together until she was just one big ache.
Anita began to forget what bathing was like. Once, the old man forbade her to eat anything beyond what she could catch and prepare herself. She almost starved to death during the first week, but, eventually, she started to eke out an existence by subsisting on wild berries, insects and the occasional rodent. She managed to catch three fish from a small stream at the end of the second week, but the old man drove her from the fire she had been cooking them in before she could eat.
She never discovered the name of her new nemesis, but she learned to hate him almost more than she despised the men who had originally destroyed her life. In the ever-shrinking bits of sleep that she was able to steal, she dreamed of killing him in ever more gruesome ways. As her hunger and desperation deepened, she started dreaming of eating him after she had ended his miserable life.
The first time Martha visited, Anita had wanted to throw herself into her arms and sob with relief. Unfortunately, the old man's warning rang loud in her mind, so she remained quiet as the therapist proclaimed horrified fascination at the many marks decorating her body. Anita also noticed that she was thinner than she could ever remember being. After that first visit, Anita refused to look Martha in the eyes; it was just too painful to realize how wretched she had become.
As time went by, Anita started to realize that the old man was surprising her less and less. She seemed to almost know when he was creeping up on her. She noticed that, more often than not, she would wake up before her tormentor could pounce on her. One of her proudest moments was when she managed to land her first retaliatory blow against the old man. She knew that he felt it because she heard him grunt. Still, that didn't prevent him from launching a blinding series of attacks that knocked her unconscious. Many hours later, she woke up with a smile, even as she painfully picked herself up and continued her never-ending flight.
That seemed to be a turning point for Anita. That evening, the old man had appeared before her in the forest holding two very sharp knives in his one hand. "Now we start training you in armed combat," he said simply before he tossed one of the knives at her feet. As soon as she picked it up, the ferocious old man threw himself at her. Anita received three shallow slashes across her arms before she learned enough of his technique to fight him off, even as she got the strong impression that the old fart was simply toying with her. She hated how easily the bastard was able to hurt her and she longed to injure him back.
Some more time passed. Anita started to become little more than an animal herself. She stopped thinking in a coherent language and no longer responded to the old man with anything besides screams and grunts. She began to flourish in the forest, using her knife and traps that she devised to catch more and more animals. She started to gain some weight back.
Finally came the day when she defeated the old man. He had launched himself out of some nearby underbrush as usual, but she had known he was coming and was ready for him. She immediately dropped to the ground and rolled when he landed on her and ended up straddling him. He attacked fiercely, but she was faster; al of is blows were anticipated and clocked while she launched her own blisteringly fast counter-attacks. This exchange seemed to go on forever, but probably only last a few minutes. All Anita knew was that, one minute the old man was a dynamo of kicking feet and punching fists and, the next, he lay still under her, the young woman's fist still thwacking his limp head.
Anita leapt off the prostrate form, still suspecting some sort of trap. Upon further inspection, however, she realized that the old man was well and truly out cold. She also noticed that he looked almost as bad as she did. He was thin to the point of emaciation; little more than an antique bag of skin and bones. She realized that it must have been harder for this old man to have chased her to hell and back than for her young body to run. Slowly, Anita bent down, picked up his still form and marveled at how light he was. Was this the same bastard who had beaten her time and again?
Slowly, the young woman trudged back to the dilapidated house. Once inside, she located the old man's bedroom and placed him on the bed. Next, Anita found the bathroom and took a long, steaming-hot shower. After she emerged from the water, Anita started to feel almost human. The old man had a body-length mirror on the far side of the bathroom and Anita found herself unable to look away from her form. She had more light scars on her skin than she could easily count and her body fat content couldn't have been too far above zero. If she hadn't been so muscular, she'd have said that she was on the verge of starvation. A moment later, Anita shook her head, threw on an old bath robe and wandered back to the old man's bedroom.
Anita noticed several bookshelves packed with volumes. She noticed that the content seemed to be heavily weighted in favor of ancient philosophers, but there were a surprising number of poetry collections. Anita picked up a particularly worn-looking book sitting on the nightstand.
"Now you begin to understand," The old man's voice startled Anita so much that she nearly dropped the book she was holding.
"What?"
The old man closed his eyes and kept speaking. "Once upon a time, I read something that's stuck with me ever since. 'Before you gaze into the void, remember that the void also gazes back'. It's a warning." The old man now opened his eyes and looked at Anita. "This life will destroy your soul if you let it. To some people, it doesn't matter. Still, it would be such a shame if your light flickered out." The old man took a deep, slow breath. "Think about that while you destroy their lives. Don't let the monster you've created in yourself consume the rest of your soul."
With that, the old man turned on his side, away from the young woman. "You've learned all I can teach you. I will tell Ted to come pick you up tomorrow."
Anita nodded, put the book back on the nightstand, and walked towards the doorway. Right before she entered the hallway, she heard the old man clear his throat softly, so she paused.
"Anita."
"Yeah?"
"...Good Hunting."
User Reviews
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2007-05-10 13:16:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very good.
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2007-05-10 00:13:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was really good, I'm looking forwards to the next part.
Submitted by camarilla (user info) at 2007-05-09 18:15:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm really into this series. Please continue.
Submitted by ColchesterDr (user info) at 2007-05-09 17:37:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Void_Where_Prohibited (user info) at 2007-05-09 16:32:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Very Kill Bill-ish.
But well written.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2007-05-09 15:55:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-09 14:32:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-05-09 13:42:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2007-05-09 12:55:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2007-05-09 09:45:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is really good.
Submitted by FWFIV (user info) at 2007-05-09 09:05:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2007-05-09 08:35:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
part 3 please.
good read.
Submitted by big_spliff_smoker (user info) at 2007-05-09 08:18:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm hooked, can't wait for the next one.
Submitted by DasHeer (user info) at 2007-05-09 08:12:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I love your writing, I hope you come up with a part three soon!
Submitted by moneyshotforyou (user info) at 2007-05-09 07:42:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Me likes.