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Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / Killer Instinct (The Tempest) prologue
Kings Storage garage, California
July 16th 1998 7.12pm
Trish pushed the blood covered blindfold onto her forehead with her bound hands. Her eyes took a moment to adjust before she started to make out objects in the small dark room. Each wall was concrete and the only exit was a garage door to her right. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead and onto the tip of her nose just as she heard the sound of keys jingling outside the door. Trish knew who was standing behind the door, the same man who had kidnapped her, and it was that thought that fueled her need to escape. She started chewing on the rope that bound her hands as she tipped the wooden chair she was tied to on its side. She yanked at her wrists with all her strength in an attempt to snap the rope, the impending meeting playing over and over in her mind. Please don’t let him kill me, please, please let Joannie find me. Trish pleaded over in her head as the ropes came loose. The door clattered as she began working on the ties at her feet.
‘Trish, where did you think you were going to go once you escaped? You know me better than that.’ The sound of Ethan’s voice sent shivers up her spine. She turned to look at her kidnapper. Her eyes, blinded by the light seeping in behind him only afforded her his outline. His 6’0” frame standing perfectly straight as he stared at her lying helplessly on the floor.
‘Fuck,’ she said under her breath, racking her brain as to what she could do next.
‘Where is Joannie?’ she asked as Ethan moved closer to her.
‘I left her with Whiteman.’
Trish looked down at her hand, the bullet wound inflicted by Whiteman hurt more inside than it ever would in her hand.
‘Is she alive?’ Trish cringed at the thought of an answer.
‘I don’t know.’ Ethan answered as he grabbed Trish by the hair. Her golden locks tearing as he pulled her upright on the chair. Trish let out a whimper of pain as more blood ran down her face.
‘By the way, I’m sorry about the hole in your head. I didn’t mean to bust you open,’ Ethan said opening a bottle of whisky he’d acquired from a draw in the steel table at the edge of the room. Trish noticed the way he moved, silent across the floor, like a ghost. A ghost was all he had been for the last seven years, haunting Joannie. As he drank from the bottle of alcohol Trish spotted the set of scalpels in their case that were now present atop the table. Her heart started thumping harder, the reality of death becoming an immediate possibility.
‘Now Trish, I must tell you,’ Ethan said taking another swig of whiskey and placing a blue apron over his head ‘You were always my favourite…of all of Joannie’s friends that is.’
‘She never had many,’
‘Like me,’ Ethan said smiling.
‘What’s your point?’ Trish wanted to keep him talking.
‘My point is my dear…’ Ethan knelt down right in front of Trish, his steel blue eyes engaging with hers. When she saw Ethan’s eyes she was reminded of Joannie. ‘You are going to be difficult to kill. I never cared much for Andy, or any of the other drifters she seemed to pick up, but you,’ Ethan paused for a second, ‘Well you really have some guts.’ Trish scowled at Ethan, he stood from his crouching position and turned his back on her, moving towards the scalpels.
Ethan had aged terribly in the seven years he’d been in jail, a once strikingly attractive man now looked old, his face drawn and his dark hair graying.
‘Is Joannie working, I forgot to ask her?’ Ethan said turning, the bottle of whiskey still hanging loosely in his hand.
‘She works at a bar,’
‘No, I mean with the mafia. When I got out Peter tried to kill me, why would he do that?’
‘I don’t know anything about what she does with the mafia,’
‘I think you do.’ Ethan said drawing one of the scalpels. Even though the room was dark, the sharp edge still seemed to gleam. He brought it over to Trish, resting it loosely beside her neck. Trish thought about her hands still untied and wondered if she should make her move now.
‘My father is the head of the FBI in San Diego Ethan, Joannie doesn’t tell me that shit because she knows dad has taps on her phone.’ The scalpel edged ever closer to Trish’s neck.
‘Maybe, but you speak to her in person…don’t you?’ Ethan scratched Trish’s neck, a slight trickle of blood ran down her chest. Suddenly her right hand shot up and knocked the scalpel out of Ethan’s hand. Trish cracked her forehead into Ethan’s temple, he stumbled backwards. She stood, the chair resting on her back. She spun quickly, the wooden chair connecting with Ethan, it snapped. Trish shook the ropes around her feet loose and dived on the scalpel while Ethan was still down. ‘Amateurish Ethan, you forgot to tie my hands. And to think you used to be a top hitman for the Irish mafia.’ Trish said standing over his crumpled body, scalpel now in hand.
‘I see Joannie taught you a few tricks of the trade.’ Ethan said raising his head enough to look at Trish.
‘Do you really think she was that stupid to think that when you got out of jail you wouldn’t come after her friends? After all, you were always about the mental fuck, what better form of torture is their for someone like Joannie than killing their friends before you kill them?’ Without warning Ethan pulled a gun out from under the apron and shot Trish. She heard the bang and saw the quick flash. It was seconds before she finally felt the hot lead in her knee, her body sunk. She hit the floor unnaturally, dropping the scalpel beneath her.
‘You fucker.’ Trish looked down at her knee. ‘How is this a fair fight Ethan?’ Trish spat, the pain in her knee excruciating, she was barely staying conscious.
‘Who said this was going to be a fair fight? I taught Joannie to never fight fair. That’s how you die, or get an unbelievably painful shot to the knee, either way you’re at a disadvantage.’
‘Oh no kidding,’
‘So why fight fair?’
Trish didn’t respond. She felt her consciousness fading as she cradled her knee to stem the bleeding.
‘It was a good try kid, it really was.’ Trish was nearly out when she heard the clattering of the garage door opening. Again the light blinded her eyes but she was sure she was seeing the silhouette of Joannie Sceats.
‘Dance fucker…Dance.’ Trish recognized Joannie’s deep, husky voice. A shot echoed in Trish’s ears. Joannie had fired a shot at Ethan’s feet, now his gun was pointed squarely in Trish’s direction.
‘Shoot at me again Joannie, and she’ll be heading to the gates of hell, her hand in my motherfucking hand, now put that fucker down.’ Ethan said in a calm voice. Joannie looked down, as if she hadn’t noticed Trish before now, but she didn’t drop the gun.
‘Put your gun down and I’ll put mine down,’ she said not taking her eyes off Ethan’s.
‘Swear on your life,’
‘Why don’t I swear on yours?’ Joannie said. Ethan smiled.
‘Joannie,’
‘I swear on my life.’ Ethan dropped the gun, Joannie followed suit.
They stared at each for what seemed like minutes.
‘You’re looking good Jones, eighteen now right?’ Ethan asked.
‘Well why don’t you work it out dad? I was eleven when you killed mum, then you went to jail for seven years. So yeah, I guess I’m eighteen.’
‘No need for sarcasm Joannie,’
‘How long has she got?’ Joannie asked looking over at Trish, she refused to show concern although inside she was terrified.
‘Long enough.’
‘Hang on Trish.’
‘So since Trish refused to answer my question why don’t you?’
‘What was that?’
‘Why did Peter try to kill me?’
Joannie laughed. ‘Jack and Paddy still helped you out though right?’
‘Yeah,’
‘Well why don’t you think for a second dad?’
‘About what?’
‘You trained me from the moment I could walk to be a killing machine, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your plan for me was to be an indestructible hitwoman, correct?’
‘Correct.’
‘When you went to jail, you were useless to Peter. Sure you could control hits from the inside, but you couldn’t actually carry any of them out,’
‘And you could?’
‘By the time I was sixteen I was already doing your job. That got Peter thinking. I was the pretty young thing with all the potential in the world, and you. Well you were a washed up old man stuck behind bars…useless.’
‘I see. So you convinced Peter that you were more of an asset to his business than I was,’
‘But there is only enough room in the Irish mafia for one of the Sceats family, and you can bet your life on the fact that he was always going to choose me. So to answer your question in full dad, how did I turn the entire Irish mafia barring two men against you? With your training. It was the thought of you getting out of jail that made me want to be better than you. So your divine plan of making your daughter your ultimate challenge, well it backfired on you to say the least.’
‘So it would seem. But I did take something more important than the Irish mafia from you.’ Ethan smiled. Joannie’s victory of words was soon far from her mind.
‘Whiteman,’ she uttered quietly.
‘Oh yes, your beloved Whiteman.’
‘So it was you?’
‘Who else?’
‘Why?’
‘Lets face it Joannie, he was unstable. He was your best friend and yeah, you would have walked in front of a bus for him but you still took his spotlight.’
‘You stole my best friend. You made him turn on me. He shot me in the fucking leg, and you’re worried about spotlight?’
‘He’s insane Joannie. You had too much loyalty towards him; you needed to see how easy it is to change people. It was a lesson I hadn’t taught you yet, never trust anyone.’
‘You can bet your fucking ass that it will be the last lesson you teach me. And it won’t be long before Whiteman, or shall I say your protégé, is hanging in hell with you.’
‘So where’s Andy? To busy watching ants do back flips in his pot headed state to come help you?’
‘He’s in the hospital half dead thanks to Whiteman actually.’
‘Does the hospital serve cake mix? You know, just in case he gets the munchies?’
‘Oh you’re fucking hilarious.’
Joannie turned and looked at Trish, her body was almost limp, she knew that if Trish was going to survive she needed to get her out of the storage garage quickly.
‘How are we going to do this dad?’ Joannie asked her father.
‘However you’d like.’
‘Why don’t we go a round, hand to hand, no weapons?’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Joannie wasted no time. She charged across the room at Ethan, knocking him to the floor. He quickly flipped her over onto the ground and started smashing her head against the concrete. Joannie pushed up with her knees, lifting Ethan off the ground and flipped him over the top of her, his body slammed up against the wall. Joannie stood up only to be swept down again by Ethan, his leg shooting into the back of her knee. As she hit the ground the air rushed out of her. Ethan grabbed Joannie around the throat and got to his knees, applying more pressure to her neck. Joannie felt her head lightening. Using the wall as leverage she slid her father up onto her back and flipped him over her head. He let go of her neck but on his way down grabbed a hold of her arm. In a second he twisted her arm side ways, she felt her shoulder pop out of place. After a hard kick to Ethan’s temple Joannie slammed her shoulder back into place on the edge of the steel table. To her instant relief it popped back. Ethan stood up, blood trickling from his forehead.
‘That looks kind of bad there dad,’ Joannie said smiling as she pointed to Ethan’s head.
‘It’s nothing.’ Ethan said as he ran at Joannie. She stepped to the side but his left hand still caught the right hand side of her face. Blood began to run from the side of her lip.
‘That looks kind of bad there Jones,’
‘Cut myself playing,’
‘You think this is a game?’
Joannie answered her father with a right hand to his chin, his head snapped backwards. Left hook, right jab, the feel of her father’s facial bones cracking under the force of Joannie’s fist satisfied the tension she’d held for seven years. Joannie turned to check on Trish, her eyes just barely open. Suddenly Ethan had a hold of one of the legs from the broken chair. Turning just in time to see it flying towards her head, Joannie ducked.
‘Joannie he has a hold of the gun,’ Trish spoke almost silently. One set of steel blue eyes locked on the other set. Ethan had taken the gun holstered in his ankle out and had it pointed at Joannie. Trish so badly wanted to get up and help Joannie but she didn’t think she was going to last another ten minutes.
‘What the fuck is this?’ Joannie asked holding her hands up, her father standing only two meters away.
‘This is never fight fucking fair Joannie, my god you disappoint me,’ Ethan said, the gun neatly aimed between Joannie’s eyes.
‘Where is your honour?’
‘This fight isn’t about honour Joannie, this fight is about the difference between living and dying,’
‘You can’t tell me you weren’t taught honour. Did I tell you I tracked down Charlie?’ Joannie said, pleased that she’d been able to pull this card.
‘You what?’ Charlie was Ethan’s original hitman trainer and only father figure after his father had died.
‘He was all about honour dad, killing is one thing, but killing without honour is murder,’
‘It’s murder anyway Joannie and I am a murderer,’
‘And that’s the difference between you and me dad. Yeah you might kill me, and hell you should be famous, because you’d been killing the deadliest woman on the Earth. But you will not be killing with honour, you are a murderer.’
‘How can you say that with a straight face Joannie?’ Ethan suddenly became irate. ‘You’ve killed people you didn’t even know, you are a murderer. We are exactly the same, exactly the same and don’t you ever dare say that I don’t kill with honour. I am honour.’
‘You are nothing.’
As if in slow motion Ethan fired the gun, Joannie’s body crashed to the ground. She lay there for a second before Ethan moved over to her.
‘And you… well you are the daughter of nothing.’ Joannie’s long leg shot up from the ground knocking the 45. from Ethan’s hand, it made a clunking sound as it hit the farthest concrete wall. Quick as a flash Joannie had removed the switchblade Peter had engraved for her out of her boot and it was launched at Ethan’s chest. Thanks to her father’s training she was an excellent shot. Ethan stumbled backwards, his body hitting the wall and then slumping down uncomfortably. Joannie’s knife was embedded in the left hand side of Ethan’s chest, blood beginning to seep from both the knife wound and his mouth.
‘I may be the daughter of nothing, but I will die with my conscious.’ Joannie said standing over her father and then making her way over to Trish in the corner.
‘Man your eyes are grey Trish, are you with me?’ Joannie asked staring into Trish’s hazel eyes.
‘I’m awake, I need to go to the hospital.’ Trish said. Her blonde curls matted with blood.
‘No kidding,’ Joannie laughed, ‘Just a second and I’ll get you out of here.’ Joannie said walking back over to her father. As she stood, staring at his motionless body everything seemed eerily silent.
‘I hated you more than I have ever hated anyone in my entire life. You created the absolute hell that I live in everyday. And now that I’ve killed you my future ain’t looking too bright. But you were right about one thing dad. As much as I didn’t want to be you, I turned out just fucking like you, are you proud?’
‘I loved you Joannie, I truly did.’ Ethan said, his eyes fading.
‘I want you to know one thing. Even if I could change the way my life is… I wouldn’t do it for the world. So I guess… thank you.’
‘Anytime.’ Ethan said, his body finally going limp.
‘Are you okay Joannie?’ Trish asked as Joannie grabbed a hold of her arm and yanked her to her feet.
‘I’m fine.’ Joannie said, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Joannie wrapped Trish’s arm around her neck and aided her walking as she rolled the door open.
‘It’s finally over Jones…the torture is finally over.’
‘It’s not over Trish. Not now and not ever.’
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iwill reviewed Version 1 -
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This is quite riveting, and I was drawn in immediately because you started in the middle of the action.
I liked the twists and turns, especially Ethan being Joanie’s father.
That said, I think there is a bit too much info dump in this first section. The story migh tbe better served by having some of this information revealed throughout the story rather than all at once (and yes, I realize it’s the prologue ;) ).
One nit. I think you meant “conscience” not “conscious” on the tenth page after Joanie hits Ethan with her switchblade.
I wondered (because it’s not explained) how Joanie survived the gun shot by Ethan. The story said the gun was pointed between her eyes, and, of course, Ethan is an expert killer. How’d she not get shot?
I also wondered how Trish could was able to talk to Joanie, and then be pulled up to hobble out, if she was only minutes away from dying from the gunshot to her leg. And why would Joanie take the time to berate her father when Trish was bleeding out?
Overall, this is gripping, fast-paced, and one of the more entertaining reads I’ve had on Urbis.
Thanks.
Write on!
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terriwilliams reviewed Version 1 -
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I liked every bit of it. I don’t see where you need to change anything. It’s so descriptive. I felt like I was there in the middle of it all.
DC_Karma reviewed Version 1 -
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I read an earlier version of this, but never got around to reviewing it. You’ve changed this to third person, I really like the new twist on the tale.
I like the advantages and opportunities this will give to you as the narrator. Brilliant beginning; I was thoroughly impressed. I liked the way it was revealed that Ethan was Joannie’s dad; and that he had killed her mother.
The characters seem very well thought out/created. They are realistic and believable personalities. I love what a baddass Joannie is; I have an affinity for strong female characters and she is the epitome of that! Very well done, IMO!
The emotions (and lack thereof) that you are trying to evoke come across great, and I am very interested in reading more of this young girl’s life. Good job on creating suspense, too.
One thing that did confuse me…Why was Trish so hurt (aside from physically) about having been shot by Ethan? If he was in prison for the last seven years, I can’t imagine them having been severely close. Just a nitpick, but I do still wonder :D
Great work!
A very well-rounded piece, and I have little criticism for it. There were a few grammatical errors (typos and overlooks mostly), I haven’t bothered nitpicking baout, but if you would like me to be more specific, I will add these to the comments :)
Curtastrophe reviewed Version 1 -
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Trish pushed the blood covered / blood-covered
“She started chewing on the rope that bound her hands…” Hmmm . . . I’m not buying this that her kidnapper tied her to the chair and didn’t secure her hands. Perhaps he tied her hands together, and then tied them to the chair—but obviously not well enough.
”...sent shivers up her spine.” This phrase is used all the time. Perhaps she felt the hair on her neck go up, or her stomach tighten.
”...by Whiteman hurt more inside than it ever would in her hand.” Try reading this sentence in its entirety out loud. It’s a bit clunky.
“‘Is Joannie working, I forgot to ask her?’ Ethan said turning,” I think this sentence can be broken up into two. Switch around the question and comma too.
Should we know who Andy is? He seems like a significant character, but all the info that was given on him was that he was a drifter.
eyes engaging with hers. / engaging hers.
because she knows dad / Dad
”...a few tricks of the trade.” Another phrase that if there’s a possible substitution, I’d use it.
The scene where Trish busts out of the chair and starts wailing on Ethan is good.
you work it out dad? / Dad
you killed mum, / Mum,
A suggestion, “Trish spat. The pain in her knee was excruciating. She was barely staying conscious.”—The previous was a heavy run-on sentence.
Starting with, “‘How long has she got?’” and ending with, “‘Sounds good to me.’” it’s almost 700 words by my eye of pure dialog. You’ve done a good job of disguising the “info dump” or backstory in the form of dialog, but there’s just so much of it that I lose track of what’s actually happening in the scene. But the part where Joanie puts down her gun and want to fight hand-to-hand with her pops. . . I had trouble suspending my disbelief for that.
There is a good ability on the part of the author to describe fight scenes. For every action, there’s a reaction.
This was certainly a strong opening. The dialog was all pretty good. And it was mostly action, but slowed down in certain places for the readers to catch their breath. This shows effective pacing. Good work, keep it up.
-Curt
BambiPurrs reviewed Version 1 -
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Words or phrases in all capitals are the ones I fixed or it seemed what was what you were meaning:
Her golden locks TORE as he pulled her upright on the chair…
...a bottle of whisky he’d acquired from a DRAWER in the steel table …
...the way he moved, SILENTLY across the floor,...
‘I may be the daughter of nothing, but I will die with my CONSCIENCE.’
Aside from the grammatical errors I found above, I liked the snippet I read. Good plot twist on having the father and daughter whacking each other…kept my interest because it was not the same old thing. Using language that sort of person would use is kudos to you.
All in all, good job..anxious to actually see more of it!
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