Hi there! My name is Jess and I'm an avid Kill Bill fan. A few months ago a friend and I had the urge to create a story based on Kill Bill. We were always curious about what happened before the two volumes. How did Bill and Beatrix end up lovers? What's the deal between O-Ren and Beatrix as well as all the other Vipers? This is basically a prequel to what we think may have happened before the massacre at Two Pines. The story begins a year after Beatrix's agonizing three years with Pai Mei and takes place a year and a half before Two Pines.
Be aware this is the SECOND volume to our TWO PART STORY. The other Prequel Kill Bill story can be found under: Kill Bill: Prequel Volume 1
I STRONGLY RECOMMEND READING the FIRST volume before you read the second. This is the SECOND volume. Which means, if you start reading from here you are going to be really confused.
Those that have read the first volume: This volume takes off right where we left off. No synopsis, flash back, nothing. It jumps right on in.
Now on to your other basics.
This story is very much for those TRUE Kill Bill Fans. The story is very in depth and you really need to be willing to take in this story and really read it. It's long.
Most of the information in this story is gotten from our own knowledge of the volumes and the original script. All of the characters from Kill Bill Volumes 1 and 2 belong to Q&U. Only non-player-characters belong to me and my friend. All of the story plots are our own ideas based on information.
I hope you enjoy our interesting perspective on pre-Kill Bill. We have worked really hard and this story has been on going for quite awhile. Thus being that there is a ton of chapters. I will be adding a chapter each day or so, this depends on the feedback we receive. Feedback is loved and a must! Also are ideas/opinions. I am sorry if there are some grammar and spelling mistakes. I've tried my best to revise it but there are always things that can't be caught. I'm trying.
This fic is rated R for drug references, gore, sexual content, and basically everything that gave Volumes 1 & 2 an R rating.
Well, now that we have almost everything settled you can proceed to the continuation of Kill Bill: Prequel Volume 2
Jess & Mel
I decided to combine the first chapter into the Author's notes so the Chapter numbers don't get screwed up again. So continue going down for the next chapter!
Chapter 33: Bob and His Fax Machine
"Bob" as he was so discreetly called ran an organization on the East Coast called the CPA...or the Certified Private Assassins. As "West Coast" as the Viper's where, the CPA was equally "East Coast" But beyond that the organizations were rather similar, being made up of a handful of members and ran by one man with a monosyllable "B" name. Each member was a highly trained assassin just like the DiVA's were. Although, the CPA's assassins tended to be trained in more military style martial arts tactics and less in kung fu and sword styles. Which was another positive thing about the "assassin trade program", it served to give each organization the taste of a little more variety.
The CPA's headquarters were in upper state New York. Just like Bill, Bob had chosen a fairly discreet location that was close enough to civilization to make it practical.
The building was a large brick complex that looked like it had been there since the turn of the century. It was surrounded by a few acres of lush green forest. The inside was far from ancient, having been updated in an extremely sophisticated corporate styling...wood paneling, glass doors, shiny black tables...very streamlined. There were little exotic decorations...but what there was, was very expensive looking. The most amusing piece of decor was one of those typical motivational posters, but it had obviously been made custom for the CPA...as it showed a photo of a man, who had a gun to another man's head and read at the bottom ASSASSINATION : Your Right As A Privileged Human Being. Play God And Love It. Where there wasn't hardwood flooring, there were large areas of fine grey carpeting. Sophisticated electronics were scattered about among the puritan objects.
As it turned out nobody lived here but Bob. But much like Bill he always had spare room for visitors and willingly gave O-Ren and Beatrix incredibly nice rooms to stay in. They both looked out onto the huge forested backyard, which featured a large pond that was inhabited by a number of beautiful white geese.
Bob himself was a middle aged man...maybe fifty. He was of middle height and in very trim shape. He had a head of close cropped salt and pepper grey hair, a high forehead and a pair of piercing blue eyes in the middle of a lean clean shaven face. He wasn't bad looking for his age...but he possessed such an aloof and cold manner it was hard to think he even thought about anything but killing and money anyways. He dressed impeccably well. Armani suits, the Rolex, Italian leather shoes, cufflinks, tie pin...the whole GQ look. From what Beatrix and O-Ren had seen, he appeared to own nothing else but these things. He ran the CPA with an iron fist. Like any man who had to do what he did, he was extremely dominant, to the point and wry. A dry sense of humor lurked underneath the steely demeanor, but it rarely came out. Obviously, to him...what he did was as much as a business as running a large corporation and he expected everyone who worked for him to act the same way. He was the kind of man you didn't cross, didn't fuck over, and didn't contradict. There were similarities to Bill, sure...but the men were obviously very different as well.
O-Ren and Beatrix had spent the first few days getting acquainted with the place. Bob had one of his assistants, a young man named, James show the two women around a bit. Then on their third day, they were introduced to one of Bob's assassins. Her name was Clarice and she looked almost like a Sharon Stone double. Tall, but not quite as tall as Beatrix, with long legs...a mane of platinum blonde wavy hair and a pair of icy cool eyes. She was extremely good looking, but cold as a December morning in Alaska. She was dressed as if going to a board meeting, in a light grey suit and skirt set, nylons and high heels. "Ladies," she said in an extremely confident voice, "Extremely pleased to meet you," she, like Bob, was all business, and she shook both of their hands as if they had just made a one million dollar acquisition.
During those three days O-Ren and Beatrix got along very, very well. This was only to the reason that they were both depressed and when one was depressed it was nice to have someone to be depressed with. Misery loves company. They were able to support one another in their own twisted ways. The place was nice, the rooms were nice, and Bob wasn't nice. He was a bastard just like Bill was. O-Ren and Beatrix enjoyed themselves at night when they compared the two men and laughed. But, of course there was no man like Bill. They could equally agree on that whether their opinions on why he was 'the man' differed greatly.
By the third day the two killers came to terms with their new life and that they'd have to suck it up and deal with it. Of course, they both dealt with it in their own manners. O-Ren turned into a shy Chinese school girl. She kept quiet, spoke only when spoken to, and kept a docile demeanor. Beatrix on the other hand went full out smart ass. This attempt only worked for a few hours when Bob threatened her and she stopped. So, she turned to polite and blonde, for the moment.
Now the two killers stood there, their hands being shaken by a woman who worked and was devoted to Bob. Already they wouldn't get along. "Pleased to meet you as well," O-Ren spoke softly and quickly took back her hand. Her features were firm set. The half breed despised being thought of as a million dollar acquisition. Beatrix just gave a tilted nod to the other blonde with a forced smile of greeting.
"Excellent," Clarice smiled a broad white smile, diamond jewelry glistening off the track lighting "Then, let's going now shall we?" She led the two assassins through the house down the steps into the parking lot, where a silver BMW sat. She gestured for the two women to get in the back, since apparently the passenger seat was taken up a large man in a black suit. Once they were all seated inside Clarice, gestured to the man, "This is Chris. He's my assistant." The large man nodded at the two women and went back to staring blandly out the side window. Apparently everybody in the CPA had an assistant.
Clarice started up the car, "We're going into the city, there's a small job that Bob wants you two to do. You could call it a test." They drove in silence the rest of the way. Not even a radio to break the silence. Everybody in the CPA thus far seemed something of an exclusive purist. Bill would have hated it.
It took awhile to get into the city and even longer to find reclusive parking. Finally, Clarice left Chris in the car and the three women set out to locate their target.
Their target as it turned out was the owner of a gun shop. But not some redneck, hillbilly type of place with a Confederate flag hanging on the wall, but a very upscale sort of shop. It seemed the man, who had been supplying weapons to the CPA for sometime, had begun leaking information on them to the NYC police department. It was time he stop talking.
The three assassins took positions around the building that the store was located in. Beatrix and O-Ren were given radios to communicate with each other, as well as Clarice. The DiVA's never used radios...Bill would have found the idea laughable at best. Each assassin was armed well. But they had decided to not use sniper rifles on this one, since the NYPD tended to have an eye out for snipers as of late.
Clarice had situated herself near the front doors. She blended in well, in her cooperate attire and sexy smile. She pressed her radio to her ear, "Sharp eyes ladies...once you see this guy, I want you on him in an instant."
Beatrix found the radio so fucking annoying as she glared down at the voice coming over the speaker. She hated this. She hated everything about it with a passion. What the fuck could she learn from this? Nothing. And even if she did she would never admit to it.
O-Ren was positioned at the side door. She wasn't fond of the radio nor Clarice's tactics. But she was much more compliant than Beatrix and stayed on task. She held the gun tight to her body and pressed against the wall, waiting.
Beatrix on the other hand was leaning on the wall at the back door. Other assassins would find her very unprofessional, especially the snazzy top notch CPA. But, Bea was far from unprofessional. She had reasons for doing anything and she had her own style. It worked damn good for the past five years and she wasn't about to change it. She wasn't taking this assignment seriously and she had no plans on trying to impress Bob with her supposed 'amazing' killings. The gun dangled from her hand aimlessly as her thoughts wandered. They almost wandered too far when she heard the back door screen open with a swish. The door almost swung into her face but she was quick to dodge it.
Standing in the doorway was a man in his middle forties. He wore a typical checkered stripped shirt and a pair of baggy jeans. He had curly black locks and a clean shaven face. He didn't look so tough. The target took a cautious step outside and into the open. This was when Bea adequately put the cool metal of her gun up to his head. "Hello," she spoke calmly. The man seemed to be just as calm, surprisingly so.
"Hey," his voice was smaller than she expected on such a large built man. "Bob sent ya, huh?"
Beatrix kept a tight grip on the trigger. "You could say that."
"I've never seen ya pick up from 'ere before. You must be new." He gave off a tight chuckle. "Let me tell ya babe, moves like this ain't gonna get ya far. Killed most likely."
This didn't daunt the blonde. "I like to take risks."
"Cocky aren't ya?"
It was Bea's turn to laugh. "Hardly." But this guy was quick. He swiped out a knife and stabbed at Bea's side. She was quick to move, only snatching the sleeve of her shirt, and set off her weapon. The shot nipped his collar bone and he hit the wall with a yelp. But before Bea could get in a final shot he grabbed a trash can lid, held it in front of him, and used it as a shield. The blonde cursed under her breath and gave up on the gun but before she could put it away the target revealed his own gun from under the trash can lid. He aimed before Beatrix could move and the bullet cut over her hand. Luckily it was only a deep gash wound and the bullet wasn't embedded in her skin. She had dropped the gun and now her target had both and her at gun point.
She took a step back. She didn't have a weapon. Or did she? Her slender brows narrowed. Right as he aimed she clipped off the radio from her belt and threw it at him. The thing was heavy and clanked him right on the head. He stumbled back and went unconscious.
Beatrix was tending to her hand when O-Ren ran over seconds after hearing the gun shots. "Is he dead?" She asked coolly.
Beatrix shrugged as she had a piece of torn shirt in her mouth, which she was rolling around her hand.
It didn't take Clarice long to follow the sound of the gunshots and find them. She came sprinting around the corner, a small sleek pistol in her hand. She seemed liked the kind of woman whom kept her firearm in a thigh holster under skirt. She surveyed the scene with wide light blue eyes.
"What the hell is this?" Her lips parted furiously, and she checked the target on the ground, "He's not dead! Jesus Christ! And why the hell didn't you radio me?" She quickly found out the answer to that question, when she spotted the radio sitting a few feet away from the target's head. "You...hit him with the radio?" She looked utterly shocked, as if it had just started raining frogs. "These are unacceptable tactics," she spat and then turned and swiftly shot the unconscious man right in the middle of the forehead. He jerked briefly and then fell still.
Clarice crossed her arms, glaring ice bolts at Beatrix, "That was not impressive Beatrix Kiddo," her name sounded really funny coming out of Clarice's mouth, "I don't know how your organization works...but us here at the CPA, we do things a little differently. We work," she began naming off, using her fingers like a brainwashed salesperson, "with discretion, speed, effectiveness, and style. Apparently, the kung fu farm you came out of does not apply such practices." She put her hands on her shapely hips, "Bob will hear a full report on this," she hissed, "..and I assure you Miss Kiddo he will not be pleased, not one bit."
Clarice turned away in a high class bitchy manner and walked in the direction of the car. O-Ren had been standing there quite silently and continued to remain so. But, when she passed by her blonde warrior friend she exchanged her with a grin that clearly read as a seven year olds; 'Ooo, you're in trouble.'
It was an hour later and Beatrix Kiddo sat in a large office. The room was flatly decorated with Red Oak furniture, burgundy carpeting, and a fake plant. Bea sat in a plush black leather chair, her arms extended on either side, legs were bent, and her body slouched in a very unprofessional posture. Blue eyes were vacant and lips were in a taut line. She held an all out haughty expression. Sitting across from her, back turned, was Bob, whom had remained completely and utterly silent since she came in. This was now going on for a total of ten minutes.
Beatrix was fully aware of what she did. But did she care? Hell no. Clarice was right, what she did back in the alley was far from impressive. That kill, well, it wasn't even a kill, it was sloppy. Her tactics could have been used by an amateur and the job would have been done with more cleanliness. Beatrix Kiddo was one of the best, the deadliest woman in the world and in those five minutes back at the alley she had lowered herself beyond those titles. Bill would have her head for that if he knew she took on an assignment in such a manner. But, then again if she had been working for Bill she would have never had a reason to do so. Not even if she was really pissed off at him. She'd find other ways. But this wasn't Bill, this was Bob. And she had no idea how Bob was going to react to something like this. Either way she'd take it in stride as nothing could lower her spirits lower than they were.
Bob let the silence drag on for another five minutes. Then in full dramatic style he spun his chair around to face her...with a maneuver like that, it was no surprise he was sitting with this fingers steeled over his chest...a cool frosty look leveled at her.
So, then he stared at her like that for a good minute. In which time, Beatrix was obviously undaunted. Bob was attempting to stare her down, but he apparently didn't realize she'd been stared down by those far better at it. Finally, he let his hands drop and he picked up a piece of paper that had been sitting in front of him on his desk. With a crisp move, he pulled out a pair of fashionable looking reading glasses, put them on and snapped the paper flat with a loud snap.
"Beatrix Kiddo," he read out loud in a clear professional tone, "Birthplace unknown, tentatively: Texas. Age: 24. Height: Six foot," he glanced up at her, as if thinking that something of an overstatement, then went back to reading, "Weight," he paused...a confused look coming over his face...as he continued, "...I wouldn't say, because it's extremely rude to talk about a woman's weight."
He coughed, letting that go, and continued on again, "Hair: golden blonde, like rays of the sunlight..." he paused again and obviously skipped over something, "Eyes: Blue. The richest most beautiful blue...What the hell is this?"
Bob's cool and calm demeanor momentarily cracked, "We'll just get to the rest..." he cleared his throat, like a stuffy librarian, "Weapons and styles of choice: the exquisite art of the samurai sword, Tiger Crane kung fu style, combat knifes...the SOG to be specific, hand pistols, semi-automatic firearms, grappling style ground fighting, full out nasty bitch style biting and clawing..." Bob paused again, tripped up by that, "...bo staff, throwing knifes, Wu shu blades...her big loud mouth," he stopped, a little miffed, "Well, we'll just skip on...it's obvious your familiar with many styles and weapons."
He went back to the paper, "Personality and Assassin Abilities Analysis: Beatrix Kiddo is a natural born killer. In battle she is by far the most effective warrior I have ever seen. She is aware of her surroundings and has a keen ability to use anything around her to her advantage. She is open to new ideas and is willing to try new tactics when needed. When she sets her mind to it, she's one hell of a team player. She is a natural leader, but can assume the role of follower quite as well. She is determined, unbending, and always keeping up with her training. She is in prime physical condition and has extremely nice legs..."
Bob cleared his throat again, "Eh...moving on...She is calm under pressure, but does possess a fiery temper that no man...not even you Bob," a pause, "..can attempt to control."
Bob looked annoyed, but continued on, "She's very smart and uses that to her utmost ability in battle. She's wise beyond her years. She's witty and charming...She's not afraid of anything and is not easily intimidated. She's a brilliant swordfighter and expert kung fu practitioner. Likewise, she's completely unreasonable when angry, can be uncompassionate to the feelings of others and has a tendency to lack any self control. She's insufferable and stubborn as hell." Bob, seemed to skim over a couple of lines, his face stony, "...Despite these few negative qualities, Beatrix Kiddo remains my best assassin and I highly doubt I will ever train another as good or quite like her in my lifetime. She does her job extremely well and when she has moments of shortcomings, she is aware of her mistakes and does her utmost to fix them. To top if all of, she's one hell of a woman, And I-"
Bob frowned, skipping a few more lines, "Lastly, Bob...I know your going to read this out loud to her in an attempt to intimidate her into doing a better job for you after she gives you a real flippant attitude. Good luck on that one you arrogant fuck. If you possessed an ounce of intelligence you would have read this beforehand, but I know you won't." Bob glared at the paper, skipping yet more lines, "Once Beatrix has set her mind to something, like annoying the shit out of you, you're a doomed man, doomed..." Bob stared at the paper with his jaw agape for a few seconds, but he quickly regained his composure. He decided he'd had enough of that. Neatly, he wadded it up into a tight ball and held it in a white knuckled fist.
"Well..." he adjusted his tie with the other hand, "All...of that other nonsense aside. I had asked your former," he stressed the word former, "boss to fill out this dossier for me and fax it over. Because, I was curious as to what happened with you today after Clarice's report and why I didn't see you use any of those talents that I was aware of you having. Obviously your former boss thinks rather highly of you." He tossed the wadded paper on his desk, leaning forward, "But, that...hack job you did today was pathetic," his voice was still icy calm but there was steel behind it, "With your former boss's description it's hard not to miss the fact that you are a very talented assassin...and what you did today was not the job of a very talented assassin. It was complete and utter shit."
He leaned back, removing his glasses and putting them back in his jacket pocket, "So...before I continue. I would like you to give an explanation as to why that exactly is."
Beatrix sat there, arms crossed over her chest, and her façade was set stone. Those rich beautiful blue eyes were void but the rims glimmered with a sparkle of amusement. She had remained quiet and attentive during Bob's read off of the dossier. Everything was more or less down pact and truthful. But, leave it Bill to send a dossier with those witty zingers on the side. The fact that Bill took the time to write up such a 'personal' dossier brightened her spirits but it'd be hard to tell through the daunting wall she put up.
Once almost everything on the dossier was read off the tall blonde casually leaned forward, snatched up the wad of paper from the desk, held it tight in her fist, and resumed her former position in the chair. Her reasons for taking the crumbled up dossier could have been thought of as stupid but she'd savor it.
Her gaze remained fixated on her 'new' boss for an overwhelming five minutes. He had made her wait so fucking long it was only right to return the favor. When she did finally speak her tone was icy cool, "You're right. The job I did today was shit and we both seem to be aware I'm capable of things far beyond compare." She shifted her position so that her body was less slouched and held in a more prominent posture; she leaned forward, arms crossed on the desk, and her neck craned forward tilting a fraction of an inch to the side. "Why...did I do what I did? I'll tell you straight out, no fucking around the bush." She paused. "I. Don't. Like. You."
Her lips came into a tight line. "I don't like working for you. I think this is all a bunch of shit. Yes, this could be a divine opportunity for me to advance my skills but right now, I'm not up for it." Her head canted more to the side. "My actions today were due to stress, anger, and the mere fact of being a stubborn bitch. Now, I could just be pissed off at Bill for agreeing to send me to some shit ass organization...But," she lifted a single digit. "I may not be." Her hand returned to the desk. Of course she could be lying about all of this. Bill forgot to add in that snippet of information. "In conclusion, as Bill so eloquently put it; you're doomed."
Bob listened to her with placid chilliness. "Well," he said after she'd finished, "I don't like you either Miss Kiddo. So we're just Even Steven now aren't we?" He leaned forward over his desk, mirroring her posture, "I don't care if you don't like me, or like working for me. I didn't ask for your opinion Miss Kiddo...I asked for a decent explanation. And personal opinions do not count as a valid explanation. You kill for me now...whatever...torch you bare for your former organization and obviously your former boss have no place here anymore." His ice blue eyes were fixated on her with utmost resolve, "I don't care if your stressed, angry, depressed, mad at your former boss or not...I simply," he slammed a fist down on his desk, "...don't...care. You have a job to do, and when you show up here for the day, you're on the job...any of these...personal problems that you have, are to be left at the door. I do not want them here!"
He leaned back, taking a breath and straightening his silk tie, "And for you to have the audacity to call what I have here a...shit ass organization is simply inappropriate. Such assumptions may be acceptable from where you came from, but not here. The CPA is one of the top rated assassination organizations in the entire world, and your...personal biases are simply getting in the way of giving it a chance." He paused, "It's uncalled for Miss Kiddo. Your poor attitude has completely disabled your ability to be an effective assassin. I will not have it. Nor will I have your threats. Your former boss may have the leverage to be so...flippant with me, but you Miss Kiddo do not."
Another long pause. Bob seemed to be fond of these. "If this is some sort of tactic to get me to send you back, it's not going to work. You're staying here. I will make you behave Miss Kiddo, or you will find this to be a very, very cold life."
"I already have a cold life, it couldn't drop any lower," the flippant blonde stated. Subconsciously she had hopes that her shit ass job would send her ass back to Bill but Bob was a smidge smarter than she perceived. Fucker. But, his threats didn't daunt her. They lowered her once higher spirits but besides that she hadn't brought down that stone wall cast over her demeanor.
Bob was a capital ass. No boss was worse than Bill but Bob was running into second. They both had different ways of running things and Bea liked Bill's tactics better. Not just because she 'knew' him but because his tactics were smarter.
She kept her current posture on the desk and blue eyes flickering off her current state of being irate. Slender brows rose and she pointed out a serious and blatant fact. "I won't behave."
Bob's thin eyebrow's raised fractionally, "Then welcome to hell Miss Kiddo. Have a good day." He spun his chair back around, completely shutting her off.
He obviously was done with her.