Disclaimer: Pokémon doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to Satoshi Tajiri, Nintendo, Game Freak and all the other dudes who are richer than me by five billion dollars. If you do decide to sue me, the aforementioned bunch of you, you will be the proud owners of my Comic Card collection and the lint in my pocket. Oh, and the knowledge that you helped contribute some of your five billion dollars to the American judicial system.
Trials and Tribulations: Chapter 7: And All Good Things…
Ok, well this has been a rather dramatic turn in our little series… Apparently our former members of Rocketto Dan have forgotten a very basic scientific principle: For every action there is an equal and opposite re-action. ‘Nuff said.
Death.
No one really knows what happens when you die. Oh, wait. Some do, but they can’t exactly come back and tell us what happened.
You can give it all sorts of fancy terms, speculate all you want while your living, but you won’t know for sure until you kick the proverbial bucket yourself.
As I lay here on the hard steel ground, my life oozing out of me by the bullets in my back, I start to wonder about it. Maybe because I’m starting to feel it’s embrace.
I never gave it much of a thought. You know, death. And why should have I? I was a twenty-two, happy- go -lucky type of guy. Everyone who knew me, Mondo, knew what type of a guy I was.
Ironic, isn’t it? The same organization I had given the majority of my teenage years and all of my too short adult life, are responsible for this. For robbing me of the rest of it.
And the bastard who did it, the one who killed me, shot me in the back, was the man who was the closest thing to a father figure I ever had.
Giovanni. The Boss.
Questions go through my mind as it starts to shut down.
How did things change so quickly?
How did I end up dying?
Amazingly enough, it started in one day.
Today.
The day I died.
Mondo walked into HQ, weary both in body and spirit. Usually a happy-go-lucky type of guy, he had a haggard expression on his handsome face. His standard issue white rocket uniform was dirty and ripped in a few places, but he didn’t seem to mind. His brown hair clouded around his face, and his green eyes were bloodshot.
The last few weeks had been trying on him. On top of having a very difficult mission handed to him out of the blue, he also found out that Jessie and James had taken their leave of Rocketto Dan.
Without handing in their resignations.
And since Mondo was over eighteen, he knew what that meant.
Mondo had been both hurt and worried over his friend’s disappearance. He knew why they didn’t tell him that they left, but it still hurt none the less. They were his best and longest friends Mondo had, every since his rookie days.
Mondo and James were like the best of friends. He always had looked up to him, and admired him greatly. They had a bit of a big brother/little brother relationship and told each other everything. Except Mondo never told him one thing.
Mondo was deeply in love with Jessie.
To Mondo, she was the apple of his eye, his envisioning of the perfect woman. She was the most intelligent, beautiful, and strong-willed person he ever thought he would have the pleasure of meeting.
Problem is, James felt the same way.
From early on, Mondo had realized that maybe Jessie loved James too. In some deep, dark corner of his mind, Mondo would have loved for something to come between them so he would have a shot with her. But he would never hurt James.
As Mondo wound his way to the dormitory wing of the headquarters, he bumped into another member.
“Pardon me,” he muttered, stuck in his own little world, surrounded by his thoughts.
“Watch where you’re going you stupid bastard!” was the reply. If it were anybody else, Mondo would have kept on going, not really caring. But then, a person who sounds like a hyena with glass in their throat, anyone would take notice.
“Butch,” Mondo hissed. Butch was far from one of his favorite teammates. Butch was a bully plain and simple, along with being an arrogant bastard.
Mondo had heard about the incident a few years back when Butch had accused Jessie of.. not very good things and his attempt to hurt James. Butch still bore the scar running down his face he received that day.
“Oh! Bitch-boy junior!” Butch said in recognition.
“What do you want?” Mondo asked exasperated. He didn’t mind Butch’s name calling, and Butch knew what would happen if he tried to do anything to him.
Butch leaned against the wall, and lit up a cigarette. “ You, my friend, have a lot to answer for.”
Mondo folded his arms. “ What are you talking about, Butch?”
Without warning, Butch drove his fist into Mondo’s gut, robbing him of his breath. Mondo buckled over, slumping to his knees.
“James…. he’s…” Mondo gasped out, clutching his stomach, and gasping for air.
“Not going to do a damn thing, boyo. And he can’t help you where he is,” Butch said, finishing the statement for him.
Mondo looked up at him in fear. Butch had always intimidated him, but he always figured James would protect him if push came to shove. Now, with James disappearance, he had no backup.
The teal-haired rocket took a long pull on his cigarette, reveling in his handy-work. Then he kicked Mondo hard in the face, before turning around to leave.
“See you around, bitch-boy!” he called as he made his way down the hallway.
Mondo looked up at him, and rubbed his sore jaw. His green eyes were lit in fury, but he stopped himself from doing anything stupid. Butch was stronger, faster, several inches taller, several pounds heavier and was the superior fighter. He didn’t stand a chance.
Coughing a few times to get air back into his lungs, he stood up and smoothed his brown hair back into position. Then he continued on his way to the dormitories.
In about half an hour, he had finally reached his destination. His dorm was like all the rest of the others. Plain white walls, and burgundy carpet was the general theme. It had all of the necessities like a bedroom, kitchenette, living room and bathroom, and it was the closest thing to home Mondo had.
With a sigh, Mondo plopped down on the blue-suede couch. He shucked off the white shirt with the red R on it, and threw it behind him, revealing his tight, black sleeveless t-shirt.
Rubbing his belly, he flipped on the television, only to discover nothing was on.
“Two-hundred channels, and not a damn thing to watch,” he muttered under his breath. With a sigh, he turned off the TV and went to stretched out on the couch. He closed his eyes and began to sleep.
“RING RING! PHONE CALL, PHONE CALL! RING RING! PHONE CALL PHONE CALL!” called out his vid-phone. With a groan he got up and answered the phone near the sofa. Mondo switched it on.
“Hello?” he asked. The screen came to life, revealing the Boss.
“Hello, Mondo,” Giovanni greeted. Mondo drew to attention. The Boss’s mere presence was enough to get a Rocket to military-style attention.
“Sir! What an unexpected pleasure,” the Rocket said. The Boss chuckled softly at that.
“Indeed. Mondo, you are very close to the missing members, Jessie, James and Meowth, right?” Giovanni asked. Mondo almost cocked an eyebrow at the question.
“Yes, sir, I am. I am sorry to say
that I haven’t heard from them,” Mondo replied, a hint of sadness creeping into
his voice.
Giovanni scratched his chin,
as if he were in thought. “Well, I would like you to be by my office in half of
an hour. I shall be waiting.”
His intuition was screaming something was wrong, but Mondo decided to hold any questions… for now. “ Yes, sir!” With that the screen faded black as Giovanni cut the communication.
Today wasn’t a very good day for a hit. Especially a hit by sniper rifle. The winds were kicking up, the sky was overcast, and to top it all off, Michael was cold. He was hidden in the thick bushes on the hillside facing the lone building almost hidden by the leafy vegetation of the forest.
Michael absent-mindedly scratched the scar across the bridge of his nose as he transferred the weight of the Tango-51 sniper rifle to his other hand. Then he reassumed his vigil of the compound. The biting winds whipped across his body, and he shivered. At this stage he couldn’t tell if it were the cold or the adrenaline coursing through him.
He started to silently curse the situation, his lack of comfort, and the high level of mortal danger he was in. But he remembered, he had done a lot more dangerous things in worse conditions than this. And finally, he would be able to do exactly what he had been planning all these years.
Then, finally, after all the waiting he had gone through, he saw him.
Or rather, them.
The most secretive and efficient band of murderers Team Rocket ever had in their employ: The Crimson Plight. There was never more than ten in service, and their services were rarely used. Each man of the ten-man squad was in the all black uniform: turtleneck, military style pants, boots, gloves and mask. The only thing that wasn’t black on them was the dark red R on their lapels.
Their uniforms hid bulletproof armor that protected them from head to toe. Each man carried a submachine gun, two pistols and a sword. The type of each was different to each man.
Raising the scope to his eye, he took careful aim at the man in the lead. Aiming for his head, Michael allowed himself a tight grin, then he blotted out the world. To him, nothing existed except for him, the gun, and his target. With a release of clenched air, he fired his rifle.
It leapt slightly in his hands as it fired it’s almost silent payload. The 7.62 mm slammed into the side of the Crimson Plighter’s head. It penetrated his head armor, blowing away a good portion of his skull. He went down, spraying blood and brain tissue all over the forest floor.
With out a word, the others withdrew their weapons and fired into the bushes, shattering the relative silence of the forest. The bushes were almost instantly obliterated in the hail of lead.
They emptied their clips into the hillside, and stood at alert, their gun barrels smoking. One of them turned to the guy next to him.
“Think we got whoever the hell it was?” he asked. Before he could answer, a loud something fell down the hillside in a loud crash. Their guns were reloaded and aimed at the general direction of the crash.
Then they saw the source of the calamity. A dead Pidgey, it’s body mangled by the bullets, lay at the base of the hill. Some of the Rockets laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Their laughter was cut short by one thing.
“Damn! I was hoping to catch that later!” a voice called out from behind them. They turned around to see Michael standing there, with a smug grin on his face.
Immediately, the closest one dropped his submachine gun, and withdrew a Smith & Wesson SW40E .40 pistol. In a flash, Michael threw two spheres the size of marbles at him.
A bright flash and loud bang later, the Rocket still stood, his gun still pointed in Michaels direction. Michael stood in the same position, his .44 Magnum Desert Eagle pointed at the Rocket.
The Rocket started to laugh, a low menacing chortle. “ You’re gun won’t work on me, dumbass! I’m protected against most calibers!”
“Maybe,” Michael replied. “ But last I checked the stuff I splashed on you would certainly weaken your armor so it could work!”
The Rocket finally noticed his gun starting to deteriorate in his hands, the strong acid destroying the Polymer frame. As his attention was diverted, Michael fired his weapon.
The type of ammunition loaded in the Desert Eagle was a bullet that was commonly called “Elephant Killers” partly because of their ability to penetrate even it’s tough hide. Usually home-made, these bullets made sure their target stayed dead. Elephant or man.
As was the case now.
The damaged armor tore apart like tissue paper, and almost imploded the Rocket’s chest. A hole the size of a tennis ball appeared in the front, and a hole the size of a basketball marked the exit of the bullet. The Rocket was dead before he hit the ground.
Before the others could react, Michael dropped the Desert Eagle and swung the Tango – 51 into firing position. He aligned his shots and squeezed the trigger twice, aiming for a head-shot. His aim was good as ever, and they dropped like stones. As he aimed for the other six still standing, they snapped out of it, and started to open fire on him.
Cursing, he dove out of the way, while reaching for one of the grenades hanging from his belt. As they started to draw a bead on him, Michael threw it, tucked and rolled.
As soon as the explosive touched the ground, it exploded, throwing two of them in the air. They were the lucky ones. The grenade had exploded practically in their faces, killing three of them instantly, and blowing off the legs of the last one.
He started to scream in pain, but was silenced forever by a round to the head from the Desert Eagle Michael had retrieved. The remaining Crimson Plighters were trying to get their bearings back, when Michael approached them from behind.
Without a word, Michael took careful aim. One of them looked up in time to look into the large barrel of the gun. Michael pulled back the trigger.
Mondo stood outside of the room, his arms folded as he waited for the boss to call him inside. He had stood like this for a little more than ten minutes. For what had to be the hundredth time, he folded back his right glove to see his watch. It was still the same time since he had looked at it last. Every once in a while, a Rocket would pass by, but they were too busy to pay him much mind.
After a long time, Mondo heard the click of the lock being released. He stood at attention. His boss, Giovanni, came out. He turned around and acknowledged him.
“Mondo. Good, you’re here,” Giovanni said. As usual he was dressed in the tailored red silk suit. His black, thinning hair was slicked back. From the way the lights shined on it, it had to be hair gel.
He pulled in the mahogany door behind him, and started towards his private elevator. Mondo followed him. They exchanged no words as they went into the brightly lit elevator car. Mondo’s boots clicked against the metallic floor.
After pressing in a few numbers on the panel, Giovanni stood right in front of the doors. The elevator jerked slightly as it started it’s descent. In a little less than five seconds, it jerked once more, indicating it’s stop. The doors slid open.
“C’mon, Mondo. We don’t have all day,” Giovanni said, and exited. Taking his cue, Mondo followed.
They entered into a narrow and brightly lit hallway. The walls were painted in white. Combined with the lights and the paint, the hallway had a bit of a claustrophobic effect. Mondo could not judge the distance to the end of it. In fact he couldn’t tell if there was an end.
Giovanni strode on. Putting a hand over his brow to help lessen the glare, Mondo followed as best as he could. After what seemed to be about a hundred yards, Giovanni made a sudden turn. A door slid back and they entered through there.
It was a dank dark jail block. The stench of human waste and blood hung over the place. Everything was either black or gray. The dungeon seemed to be as old as time began, but the prison cells betrayed that it was rather new, or rather at least those were one of the few things that were kept new.
As Mondo’s eyes re-adjusted to the dim lights, he fought back a wave of nausea rising in his stomach. Giovanni turned around and folded his arms, waiting for a response.
“Why - why did you bring me here?” Mondo asked, fighting the urge to hold his nose and run out of the place. Again, some instinct in him told him to do just that, but he ignored it.
“This is a test. A test of your loyalty. You decide what happens to these people here,” Giovanni replied, his mouth in a thing grin, his eyes sparkling mischievously.
Mondo looked at him in stunned silence. Once again taking the lead, Giovanni led him through a thick steel door.
The lights almost blinded him once again. It was a large room, white it’s basic colors. It wasn’t to brightly lit, but just enough. The lighting wasn’t what got Mondo’s attention. It was what was in it.
James was strung up from the ceiling hanging by his arms. His eyes were tightly shut as water came down from the ceiling. It wasn’t a full shower, but a tiny trickle. Dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers, Mondo could plainly see all of his bruises, cuts, and the whip marks.
They covered the entire expanse of his back, the skin turned to ribbons, bloody and raw. The water barely did anything to wash the blood, and Mondo could almost swear James was wincing under the water.
“James..” Mondo whispered, snapping James’s eyes open. At first, he seemed wild-eyed and crazy, but recognition soon seeped in.
“Mon…Mondo?” James asked incredulously. The he began to fight against his bonds.
“MONDO! GET OUT MAN!! DON’T TRUST GIOVANNI!!!” James screamed. Frightened, Mondo took a step back, though he was a good few feet away from James. Then he heard the sound of a whip crack in the air, and James stopped cold, fear seeming to radiate through his body.
“Well, James, d’ahlin’! What have a’ told you about screaming like that?” a cultured, female, southern voice said, originating from some other entrance into the room. The owner stepped into the room, and into the light. Mondo gasped once more.
She was… Jessie. Or rather what Jessie would look like if she had cut her hair to shoulder length, and then styled it in pigtails. She wore a red riding jacket, and khaki colored riding pant’s, stuffed into calf length boots. The ruffles of her white blouse seemed spotted with drops of blood.
“Now, my dear, I guess we’re just going to have to punish you, now don’t we?” she said rather matter-of-factly. With that, she took out her cat o’ nine tails whip and drew her arm back. Before it came down, James uttered his last warning.
“LEAVE THE TEAM!!” he shouted at Mondo before the biting end of the whip found purchase in his flesh. He screamed in pain, drawing a tear from Mondo’s eye. Giovanni looked on approvingly.
“NO!! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Mondo yelled, making a dash for James, only to be roughly held back by Giovanni. He started to struggle, even after he felt a needle penetrate his skin. The effect of the tranquilizer took almost immediate effect.
“Not yet, Mondo, my boy,” Giovanni whispered as Mondo fell to the ground. “Not yet.”
Mondo blacked out.
Mondo opened his eyes slowly, not too sure of what was going on. All he knew was that he was comfortable. He looked around him, and discovered he was on a large bed. He whipped his head up and observed his surroundings.
The room he was in was pretty nondescript. It had very few things in it including the bed, a dresser and a TV. Light came from an overhead fixture. Mondo sat himself up in the bed and shook his head.
“Is he ok?” Jessie asked him quietly. Mondo almost died of fright. Jessie was sitting up right next to him, her hair pooling around her face, not giving Mondo a chance to see it.
“Jessie?” Mondo asked incredulously. She turned to him, allowing him to see her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and tearstains were all over her cheeks. A slight bruise was beginning to form on her forehead in the shape of a rifle’s butt stock.
“Is he, or is he not ok?” she asked again, her voice becoming more firm. Mondo’s eyes welled up with tears.
“No. No I don’t think so, Jess. He…” Mondo said before he began to sob. Jessie sprouted tears of her own, but she hugged him close to her and both of them cried softly. When Mondo was done, he finally noticed what she was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn’t wearing.
Jessie was in a skimpy two - piece lingerie ensemble. The red of the material was almost as deep as the red in hair. Mondo backed up and blushed furiously.
“Jessie? What are you doing in that? “ Mondo asked, backing away, only to discover he was stripped of all his clothes except his briefs. And they were suddenly not… fitting too well. Jessie sighed and folded her arms over her chest.
“Call it Giovanni’s idea of a sick joke,” she muttered under her breath.
“Oh really, Jessie, my dear?” It sounded like Giovanni, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s that coming from?” Mondo asked. Jessie pointed up at the light fixture.
“There. That’s where he.. that’s where he watches from. And records from,” she replied, gritting her teeth in anger.
The TV came on by itself. The 45-inch screen filled with Giovanni’s smug face.
“Mondo. I see you’ve awakened,” Giovanni began before Mondo interrupted him.
“YOU SICK BASTARD! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO MY FRIENDS?” Mondo shouted at him, his rage spilling forth. Giovanni’s grin disappeared, but he seemed to be holding his anger in check.
“The only reason why I’m giving you this opportunity is because of your years of loyal service and your amazing track record. Do not interrupt me again or else I’ll give you the pleasure of seeing you’re friends die slowly and painfully,” he said, tight lipped. Mondo shut his mouth.
“Now,” Giovanni continued, “The opportunity I’m giving you is to have you’re loyalty tested. It’s not even a hard test. In fact it’s quite enjoyable.”
He paused for effect. “All you have to do is have intercourse with Jessie.”
“And what if I don’t?” Mondo asked fearfully.
The screen changed into a split screen. One side had a view of James being whipped by Rumika. The other showed the pokemon trainers, Ash, Misty, and Brock in their cells. Ash was on the bench being tended to by Misty. Apparently, he was badly beaten and was having problems breathing. Misty was saying something to him, but the sound wasn’t coming through. Giovanni’s voice did, though.
“You know what’s going on with James already. I could make it all stop. And though I can imagine you don’t much like the others, I know you still don’t like to see people get hurt. Or killed.
“So decide, and decide well,” Giovanni concluded. “It’s all up to you. And her.”
With a final smile, the TV turned off.
Mondo was in shock, but Jessie was sobbing softly. Mondo looked at her, and his heart seemed to break.
“There’s no way out, “ she said through her tears. “Ash tried… and look what happened to him!”
Mondo lowered his head, and looked away from her. “So, what do we do?”
Jessie sobbed for a little, then shut her eyes. She forced herself to stop crying. Mechanically, she wiped her face dry and all emotion disappeared from her face.
“Do it,” she replied.
“But, Jess?! This shouldn’t even be an option! You love James and I’d never do that with you!”
“Mondo.. we don’t have a choice. And you’re right. It’s not an option. It has to be done,” she replied, her voice all most soulless. Then she sighed. “It’s not like I haven’t done this with anyone but James, anyway.”
“You mean?”
She nodded her head. New and more profound anger erupted in Mondo. As if on cue, the TV flickered back on. Mondo turned his attention to the screen only to close his eyes quickly. Jessie closed her eyes and looked away herself, a tear slipping out.
It was Jessie and Giovanni. Complete with sound and color. Her screams of outrage and sounds of struggle were still heard. Thankfully it was drowned out by Giovanni’s voice filling the room.
“Unless you want to see this all the time, get started. Or, Jessie, you’ll see my Drowzee again!” The Boss boomed. The TV once again went dead.
Wiping the new tear away, Jessie knocked Mondo on his back and straddled him.
“Jessie!” he said in surprise. Her face was once again devoid of emotion.
“Mondo. Just shut up, ok? This is for James, and for the twerps. And if you go along with it, you’ll live to see another day. It’s a small price to pay,” she said matter-of-factly.
“But Jessie, I can’t do this! Not like this at least!” Mondo shrieked, though his body betrayed his words. Jessie got off of him.
“Damn you, Mondo. Let your pride go!” she hissed.
“But I can’t!”
“Why? Just tell me why! Is it more important than their lives? Is it more important than James?” she asked him angrily.
“I LOVE YOU, DAMMIT!” he screamed, then buried his head in his hands. His body was racked in sobs. Jessie’s eyes flew open in surprise.
“God… Mondo? You love me?” she asked him timidly.
“YES! Ok, yes I do!” he roared suddenly, snapping his head back up. “And I know I don’t stand a chance. You love James! And I know he loves you. So I know I never had, have, or ever will have a chance, not one!
“I tried to fool myself at one time, but it didn’t work. So I decided to just wait, and hope that someday you could at least like me in that way, without James getting hurt or anything. I know it’s far-fetched, but I needed a reason to get up in the morning. I hoped for a day when I could kiss your lips, and stroke your hair, and you’d want me to do it, and it would just be us.”
But he lowered his head once more. “Now I have to go and have sex with you, knowing I’d never have another chance like this ever, and I’m expected to do it? To never kiss you in that way, to never stroke you hair, or make love to you? I couldn’t live with myself. I would have betrayed you, betrayed James, and betrayed myself.”
Jessie touched him softly on his shoulder. “Mondo, you have to understand. We don’t do this, you will die. My friends will die. James will die eventually, but it’ll take a long time. And I’d live, yes. As Giovanni’s whore. I’d rather give myself to you to know that James is ok, that you are ok, that my friends will be ok. Now please, please just do it!”
Mondo sighed. He gently, kissed her softly on her lips. He put his hands around her in a tight embrace, pulling her body close to his tightly. As he softly opened her mouth open with his tongue, he stroked her hair with his fingers.
Jessie closed her eyes and went with it, conflicting emotions battling in her head. She knew what she was doing, and she knew it was for James and her friends. But she was also enjoying Mondo’s gentle touch.
His hands moved upwards, and caressed her face. Then he put his hands on her waist, and kissed down her neck. His kisses led him lower and he traced her collarbone with his fingers. Taking a mental deep sigh, he lifted the lingerie top over her head.
Tears ran down Jessie’s face as he did this. As the cool air touched her bare skin, she had to withhold a sob.
“Am I hurting you?” Mondo asked anxiously.
“No…” Jessie choked out, trying to keep her composure. She swallowed quickly, and urged him on.
“Go on. Please,” she said.
Mondo looked at her in her near nudity, admiring her graceful curves and flawless skin. He sighed.
“I’m done,” he said. Jessie opened her eyes.
“What?”
“I’m done,” he repeated. Jessie furrowed her brow.
“Last time I checked, this wasn’t intercourse! Now stop screwing around and screw me, dammit! I don’t want James’s blood on our hands!”
Mondo looked away from her. “Jessie this is far as I can go. This has been all I’ve wanted. To touch you and hold you. Going all the way would only cheapen it. I’m satisfied.”
Jesise slammed her fist into the side of his jaw, evoking a cry of pain from him. Stars clouded his vision as he started to slump on the bed.
“Gotta’ do everything myself,” Jessie muttered. With that, she took up the comforter from the mattress and covered both of them with it.
“Wake up, Mondo! Damn you!” she hissed at him, her temper flaring up. He shook his head slightly to keep conscious.
“Jessie?” he asked, his speech slurred.
“Yeah, yeah this is dream, ok?” Jessie said anxiously. He nodded his head. Then he seemed a bit peeved.
“Hey, how come you’re not wearing that silver dress?” he asked.
“Mondo, you’re reaching third base. Where do you think the dress is?”
“Good point…”
Mondo got out from under the covers, his hair disheveled, a slight grin on his face. He looked up at the ceiling fixture, his grin disappearing.
“I did it,” he said simply. A couple of seconds later, Giovanni’s voice came over the hidden intercom system.
“Is this your choice, Mondo? Are you sure?” Giovanni asked, his voice strangely neutral. Mondo cocked his eyebrow in confusion.
“Urr… I SHOULD know if I did it or not, right?” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Good, Mondo. It’s good to know where your loyalty lies.” Then the intercom went dead. A minute later, Giovanni opened the door, followed by two other Rocket members, their pistols drawn. With a smirk, Giovanni threw Mondo’s uniform at him.
“Put it on, and get her up. We’ve got to get going to the auditorium,” Giovanni ordered. Uncomfortably, Mondo put on his uniform and shook Jessie awake. Glaring angrily, she got out of the bed and put on the matching shawl, though it still didn’t help maintain her modesty. Then with as much dignity as she could muster, she raised her head up and stood in front of Giovanni.
“He was a much better lover than you’d ever hope you’d be,” she spat out at him defiantly. Surprisingly, Giovanni chuckled.
“ You keep fooling yourself, my dear. There’s always a life time to prove that wrong,” he replied. Jessie lowered her head, his words hitting home. Taking Mondo by the hand, Giovanni led them from the room, taking the lead, Mondo at his side.
They walked through the narrow hallway, their boots clanging on the steel plates. As they walked, Giovanni produced a cigar. He offered one to Mondo.
“No thanks, sir. Bad for my health and all that,” he said. Giovanni grinned.
“Well that’s funny you should mention health, my boy,” Giovanni said, taking his cigar out of his mouth. “Last time I checked, having ‘intercourse’ did not include wrapping a comforter over your bodies, moving around and moaning like if you’re actually doing it.”
Mondo’s eyes opened wide, as he realized that their deception had been discovered. He knew what was going to happen now. Steeling himself, he stood straight at attention.
“And if I had to do it again, I wouldn’t have changed a thing,” Mondo replied, his staring straight ahead, his gaze unwavering, his voice clear. Giovanni lit the cigar.
“I’m giving you five seconds to run as fast as you can. If you try to do the brave thing and stay here, then Jessie will take the bullet for you. Now go.”
Mondo turned around, before giving Jessie one last long look. Then he turned around and began to run.
Almost immediately, three shots rang out, and Mondo felt the bullets go through his back, puncturing his vital organs. The force of the bullets cut him down, and he landed hard on the ground. As blood began to leak form his mouth, he turned around.
“You, bastard,” he choked out, staring at Giovanni. Giovanni blew a ring of smoke in the air.
“Maybe. But I’m the bastard who’s still living,” he replied. Jessie shrieked and ran to Mondo’s side. As tears poured from her eyes, he looked up at her and smiled.
“Thank… you. Get out... of here… alive… and put one in that bastard for me…” he stammered out. Jessie shook her head in agreement, knowing it was too late to do anything for him.
“I promise you…” she whispered.
Mondo reached up at wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Another… life…” Jessie whispered to him. Then his eyes glazed over, and he slipped into unconsciousness, never to awaken again.
Well…. That was… unexpected… Next! You won’t believe what’s going to happen… you know the drill…. Comments and Suggestions to Shagti2@aol.com and flames to Shoveitupyour@ss.com.. G’night Gracie!