Tag: Samurai Sword

And yet another shot at the title (part xii)

Storm clouds gathered over Hollywood Hills. The pounding thunder fueled my appetite for revenge. So I did the only thing I could do: I sharpened my blade. The katana was clean; I would not be satisfied until it was dripping with blood.

I prepared the blade like in the days of the samurai. The rage and hate flowing through my veins heightened my senses. The smell of death was all around me. I knew the halls of Trainwreck Studios would soon be covered with the entrails of my enemies.

Then there was a soft knock. I quickly swung the katana behind me. No one was there.

I inched quietly up the stairs into the kitchen. Not a soul was present. Then there was another knock.

Knock knock knock

It was coming from the front door.

Beads of sweat poured from my face, off my back, and down my ass crack. I tiptoed towards the door with the blade ready. I slowly turned the knob. Then I threw the door open and swung the sword.

But I stopped short of killing the intruder. For I recognized her. It was Cassandra, standing on the porch in the pouring rain.

“Cassandra?!” I ask. “What’s the meaning of this visit? Why must you darken my door?”

“James,” she said in her British accent, “I must speak with you.”

I lowered the sword and she invited herself in. I offered her a towel and she sat on the couch as she dried her hair. I struggled to find the right words.

“Why the samurai sword?” she asked.

I raised the blade to admire its gleam. “I must kill Jimmy Greco,” I said.

“Then you won’t like what I have to tell you,” she explained. “Don’t blame Greta for any of this.”

“What do you mean?”

Cassandra finished drying her hair and placed the towel in her lap. Then she lowered her eyes. “It was Jimmy,” she said. “Jimmy brought me on board. Not Greta. She had no say.”

I shook my head. “I should have known.”

I noticed the strands of red hair draping over her face. I had forgotten how beautiful she was. “I saw how hurt you were at the press conference,” she said, “I couldn’t keep hurting you.”

I put down the sword and sat beside her. I reached for her hand. “It’s not your fault,” I told her. “This is all Jimmy’s doing. He’s been out to get me the moment we met. He’s the one who must pay the price.”

As I reached for the sword, Cassandra stopped me. “Please wait,” she pleaded, “there must be another way.”

“You don’t understand Cassandra. This is the only way.”

“But if you kill Jimmy, then you’ll lose everything. Think about all those that love you. Think about Slick Rick!”

“My god,” I said, “why do I keep forgetting about Slick Rick?!”

“Don’t disappoint him James! Find another way.”

I nodded then picked up the sword and grabbed my coat. “Please don’t go to Burbank!” Cassandra begged.

“I’m not going to Burbank,” I said. “I’m going to West Hollywood.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Jack Hardcock: The Wrath of God (Part XIII)

“This bullet wound ain’t shit,” Jack said. The bikers were carrying him away while dodging fire from the high flying hueys. While deep in the cover from the surrounding jungle, Jack attempted to cauterize the wound Rambo-style. But this was a spectacular failure and he soon went into shock.

After spending five days in a coma, Jack awoke to find his father standing over him. “Goddamn you, Jack,” Rod said. Then he punched his son out.

Jack spent five more days in a coma due to a severe concussion. When he awoke again, he found himself in a shack far away from Juarez. “Where the hell are we?” he asked.

The scarred up biker sitting nearby put down the tequila bottle. “Puerto Paloma,” he said, then belched and farted.

“Mexico?”

“Nuevo Mexico.”

Jose barged in splashing water on his face and cursing. “Hijo de puta!” he yelled.

“Why are we in the United States?” Jack asked.

Jose picked up the tequila bottle and shook his head. “While you were in a coma, we tracked Pablo and the cartel across the border,” Jose explained. “Your father is a bastardo.”

“Where is he? Whatever business my father had with cartel is over. I’m taking him with me.”

“Good luck with that,” Jose retorted. “He’s not listening to anyone!”

Jack got up from the dusty floor and walked out into the blazing sun. A few yards away was another shack where Jack presumed his father to be. He swung open the door where he found Rod Hardcock in deep meditation. “We’re leaving,” Jack ordered after he kicked in the side.

Rod emerged from deep thought and picked up a pair of nunchucks. He swung them around his body just inches away from Jack. “The fuck are you doing?” Jack asked.

“Why did you come to Mexico?” Rod responded, still focused on nunchuck practice. “I don’t need your help.”

“I’m not here to help you. I’m here to get you away from this mess!”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re 76 years old dad! Why are you still running around with a murderous gang of bikers?!”

Rod threw down the nunchucks and looked his son square in the eye. “You think I can’t hang? Try me!”

“Dad, you don’t want none of this.”

“I don’t want to fight you! I’m a pacifist! But I see that you’re still carrying around that pathetic .38. Come on now! You’re a big boy! Give it a shot!”

Jack cocked his head. “You want me to shoot you?”

“Shiiiiiiit, that bullet won’t come near me!”

Jack shrugged, pulled out the .38 and pointed it at his father. “I don’t know what you think this will prove,” he said, “but if you really want me to shoot you…”. He fired a single round and in less than a blink of an eye, Rod threw a shuriken which completely deflected the bullet.

“Mother of god,” Jack gasped.

Rod chuckled. “You still think your old man has nothing left to prove?”

“Alright then,” Jack replied while he re-holstered his gun, “so you’re a pacifist, eh? I should have known that you’ve become a filthy heathen. But why chase the cartel? What’s the point?”

Rod pulled an immaculate Samurai sword from off the wall and slowly swung it around. “You’re a messenger of the Lord’s Word,” he explained, “but I live by the Way of the Blade. I don’t know why fate has chose me, but I know it’s my duty to purify this land of its violent ways…specially by the tip of my sword.”

“Okay dad,” Jack agreed, “I will help you, but only because I have some unfinished business with Pablo. And after we mercilessly kill all of them, you’re coming with me.”

TO BE CONTINUED…