Rain fell through the giant hole in the arena’s ceiling where fire had long ago done its damage. It flooded whole sections of seating and drowned long abandoned hot dog stands. The volunteer crew that had arrived from New Sodom focused their attention on the dry and covered parts of the arena that the water could not reach. A wrestling ring that once was broken was being made new. Fresh boards and ropes had been brought over from New Sodom to replace the parts that had been obliterated in the grenade blast. Anything that was beyond repairing was held to together with spit and duct tape. The ring was very much a Frankenstein creation, but it looked fit for its purpose. Just like Karina, it was about to come out of retirement for one night only at the New Orleans Arena. It was the perfect venue to host the trial by combat. The ghosts of the past and people of the present co-existing at one point in time to see justice served.
Remy walked into the backstage area and sought out Karina in her changing room. He knocked on the door and was invited in. Karina stood behind a screen, getting ready for the night ahead. Only the top of her head and the silhouette of her naked body was visible. A girl by the name of Heather had come from New Sodom to play the role of assistant. She painted the colour red onto Karina's toned and muscular back. Karina herself used a hand mirror to skilfully apply the paint to her front in patterns that Remy couldn't see. Remy took up a seat in front of the screen. There was a larger mirror in front of him. Pinned to one side was a picture of a lady in a Mexican luchador mask. On the other side was a picture of Darnell that Nancy had taken shortly after New Sodom was founded. It was a great, smiling picture of Darnell that showed him at his best. Remy delicately touched the image of his dead friend as if he could reach out and touch the man himself from across the grave. It broke his heart to see him there, frozen in a moment of happiness that would never again be repeated.
“Can I help you with something?” asked Karina. “I’m kind of busy right now and not in the mood for visitors.”
“Heather, could you leave us alone for a moment?”
Heather stepped out from behind the screen and gave the two of them some privacy.
“Are you okay to do this?” Remy asked when Heather had gone. He could hear Karina huff in response.
“Are you actually asking me that question? Is this because I slapped you?”
“I’m willing to let that be if you are. We’ve all got bigger concerns. I’m just worried about whether this is the right way to handle things for you.”
“You’re worried?” she said in a mocking tone.
“Yes. I don’t know what state of mind you’re in and that scares me. This is not a thing to be done by an unstable mind. Killing someone in such a personal and intimate way can open some dark doors, and you might find yourself in a dark rabbit hole. It might not help you in the way that you think it will. We can still just execute him. It’s not too late to back out.”
He could see the silhouette of her body tense through the screen.
“I’ll say it again. Fuck you, Remy. He’d already be dead if you hadn’t stopped me, and now you want to come in here talking about your worry. Don’t you dare take this away from me after already denying me. His life is mine, and I will take it whatever way I choose.”
Remy leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh.
“I’m sorry about that, but I need you to convince me, Karina. Convince me that this is the right thing for you and I’ll leave you be.”
Karina stepped out from behind the screen, and Remy’s eyes went wide as he saw what she had painted herself as.
“I am not someone who needs to be protected,” she said. “I was here that day. Have you forgotten? Because I haven’t. I saw explosions that ripped limbs from bodies. I heard people calling for someone to help them seconds before their heads were trampled into the concrete. I stepped over the bodies of the fallen only to see my best friend raped and murdered by savages.”
Karina pointed to the picture of the masked lady on the mirror.
“Her name was Lucy, but everyone called her Dora. That’s her picture in front of you, and I carry it with me everywhere I go. I killed for the first time that day. I had revenge on her murderer by smashing his skull against the wall. You know what happened after that Remy? I slept just fine knowing that he was no longer in this world, and knowing that I was the one who took him out of it.”
There was a growing bite in her tone as she continued, reliving all of her traumatic memories in front of Remy.
“Now there is another man that needs killing. His name is Tom Barnes. I witnessed innocent people gunned down in cold blood on his say so. But that wasn’t enough for him. He lived long enough to kill the last good thing I had left with his own two hands. That man owes me a death, Remy. I know that killing him won’t fix things, and I know that it won’t bring people back, but fuck if it won’t feel good to make that prick suffer for all the pain he has caused me.”
Remy took a moment to contemplate her words before getting out of his chair and holding out his hand to her.
“I guess that I’ll wish you good luck and leave you in peace then.”
Karina let all of her tension out on an exhaled breath as she shook Remy’s hand.
“My friend once told me I don’t need luck, but I’ll take it anyway.”
Remy shocked Karina by pulling her into a hug.
“You take care of yourself out there. We need you for the days to come. Come back to us whole.”
Hundreds of people travelled to the New Orleans Arena to witness the trial by combat between their former Governor, and Karina Katana. Raised fire torches cast a golden glow over the proceedings as people took their seats. It was far from a capacity crowd. There were people that didn't have the stomach for such a spectacle and opted to stay back behind the walls of New Sodom.
Beth, Nancy, and Gus all sat in the front row together. Gus even wore a Karina Katana t-shirt that he had liberated from one of the abandoned merchandise stalls. A lot of people in the surrounding seats were wearing the same shirts. Raimond arrived after them and approached the empty seat beside Beth.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
“By all means,” said Beth as she favoured him with a warm smile.
“Strange that Remy is not here,” said Raimond as he took his seat.
“Yeah, he seemed in a funny mood last I saw him, but somebody has to hold down the fort while all of us are out here,” said Gus. “Never know who is watching and who might take advantage.”
“I just thought that he'd want to bask in his victory.”
“This isn't a victory,” said Beth with a scoff. “Have we regressed so far that we are back in ancient Rome with a crowd baying for the blood of the guilty? Next, we'll be feeding people to the lions outside our gates. A man's death should not be entertainment.”
“These people need to see this man die,” said Raimond. “It's not entertainment for them. Can't you feel it in the air? There's a tension that can't be described. They've been surrounded by nothing but death these past two years, but still, they want to see people punished, even if that means witnessing more death.”
“It's still beneath us.”
“Perhaps you should have stayed behind in Remy's place.”
“No,” said Beth. “I will not turn my head. I will witness the good and the bad. I will not look away.”
A wry smile played on Raimond's lips, but the conversation was cut short as Princess stepped out from behind the entrance curtain. The crowd instantly erupted with sounds of cheering and applause. Princess curtsied and showed off her outfit with an overdramatic twirl. She was a ringmaster with a bright, red tailcoat and a black leather skirt. Underneath the skirt was a pair of racy fishnet stockings tucked into knee-high leather boots. On her head was a tiny top hat, tilted at an angle. She blew kisses to people as she strutted towards the ring and stepped between the ropes. In one hand she held a riding whip, but in the other was a bullhorn.
“How are we all this fine evening? It's so
rare that I see so many beautiful people gathered in one place. Well, except for you Wally Walters, but I'll try not to mention it.”
The crowd laughed and Wally Walters sulked with his arms folded across his chest.
“Now, I know what y'all came here for tonight. You came to see a world-famous striptease by yours truly. I regret to inform you that I will not be getting naked tonight.”
Mock boos rang out across the New Orleans Arena.
“I know, I know. Apparently, they have something else in mind. Instead of sex, you are going to get violence. Who here is ready to see a little bit of good, old fashioned revenge?”
The crowd gave its loudest cheer yet.
“I won't keep you waiting then. Contestant number one, come on down!”
Tom Barnes appeared from behind the curtain, pushed along inside a cage on wheels. The crowd jeered at him, each person shouting their own unique and special curse that they had been saving just for him. To Tom Barnes’ ears, it sounded like a loud and violent form of gibberish with the occasional hiss.
“He's a liar, he's a crook, and he's a murderer. He is a festering bag of shit. He is the gum on the bottom of your shoe. He is the guy that leaves the cap off the toothpaste. Everyone, give a warm New Sodom welcome to your elected Governor, Tom Barnes!”
Water balloons flew through the air and burst against the side of his cage. Liquid splashed all over Tom from multiple directions, and a foul and pungent odour rose up to infiltrate his nose.
“Piss!?” he shouted at the crowd. “You fucking assholes! I'll skull fuck every last one of you!”
The balloons kept on coming, and Tom Barnes vomited onto his once expensive shoes. When the cage hit the ring, they opened the door and tossed him on his ass. A can of Coca-Cola sailed through the air and cracked him in the temple as he got back to his feet. He staggered and grabbed onto the bottom rope to stop himself from falling.
“Cocksuckers!” he shouted as he regained his bearings.
Princess leaned over to speak to him.
“Keep running that mouth of yours, and you're not going to make it to any trial. That mob is likely to tear you apart.”
Tom glared at Princess and eyed her from top to bottom.
“What the hell are you supposed to be?”
“Oh, I thought that would be obvious,” she said with a smile. “I'm someone that doesn't smell of piss.”
A 'KA-REE-NA' chant emerged from the crowd and Princess nodded along to the rhythm.
“Yes. You know what comes next,” she said into the bullhorn. “Introducing, the undefeated mixed martial artist with a record of eight wins, eight motherfuckers knocked out and zero, I repeat, zero losses - you all know her as 'The Painted Bitch' Karina Katana!”
The crowd went wild at the conclusion of the introduction. Tom Barnes turned to Princess with a raised eyebrow.
“Mixed martial arts?”
Princess had a twinkle in her eye as she responded with a simple, “Yep.”
Tom Barnes audibly gulped and turned his attention towards the entrance curtain. Karina presented as a vision of the devil with her skin painted red from head to toe and black horns emerging from the nest of her hair. In her hands, she held a flaming torch that she brought up to her face. She spat some fluid from her mouth, and the flames shot out from her in a wide dragon's breath. Tom Barnes added his own piss to the stench of the others as Karina walked menacingly towards the ring.
“She's still just a woman,” Tom said to Princess.
“And you're still just a dead man,” she replied as she left him alone in the centre of the ring.
Tom Barnes blessed himself and kissed the crucifix around his neck as the devil made her approach.
“It's not too late to forfeit,” he said as she stepped through the ropes. “I don't want to hurt you, miss.”
Karina said nothing and waited patiently in her corner. Tom could see that her eyes were a solid white with a black dot in the middle. The eyes watched him with a hunger and Tom whimpered in his corner as the gravity of his situation began to sink in. Princess picked up a hammer outside of the ring and rang the bell three times to get the fight underway. Karina immediately fell into a fighting stance to wild cheers and applause. She quickly closed the distance while feinting and moving her head.
“I don't want to be here,” said Tom, right before she cracked him with a stiff jab. His head shot back and he clutched at his bloodied nose in pain and surprise.
“Fine. Have it your way, bitch.”
Tom Barnes surged forward and threw windmill punches at Karina. Not one of them found its mark as she effortlessly moved her head around the strikes. She threw nothing back in return, even though the openings were there. Instead, she goaded Tom into throwing some more. Combination after combination hit nothing but air. She dropped her hands and stuck her chin out, and still, he missed. It wasn't long before Tom Barnes was wheezing and struggling for breath.
“You're not in shape, Governor. Perhaps you'd like to have a seat.”
Karina stepped forward and shoved Tom to the mat. He fell on his ass and looked up at her with a dumb look in his eyes as she kicked him right in the mouth. He fell to his face as she seized hold of one of his arms and applied a kimura.
“This is for Lucy.”
“Who the fuck is Lucy!?”
Tom Barnes screamed in pain as Karina forced his arm behind his back until she heard a loud and audible snap. While Tom was going hoarse from the screams, she grabbed the other arm.
“This is for the people at this arena that you murdered in cold blood.”
She broke the second arm just like the first. Tom's screams changed to a raspy inhale of breath.
“Please,” he said as he whimpered into a puddle of his own snot. “For the love of God.”
She hocked and spat down onto his writhing body.
“You can take his love with you when you go.”
She stomped her boot down into his face. She stomped it again, and again, turning her foot into an automated machine that had only one violent purpose. The crowd was not cheering anymore. An awful silence had taken hold of them. Karina kept on stomping until Tom's head looked like the stain of a dropped pizza. Then she stopped. She did not celebrate. She did not turn to the crowd. The show was over.
“That was for Darnell,” she said as she started to cry. Silently, she made her exit, stage right.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Not everyone went to watch Tom Barnes die. There were walls to be manned. Children to be looked after. Work to be done. Remy simply chose not to go. He had his fill of death and knew there was more to come. He wasn't missing out on anything as far as he was concerned. There was no way that Karina could lose, and that was enough to satisfy him. The rest was for satisfying everyone else.
He walked the length of his territory with the thick drops of rain cascading off of his head and shoulders. He was alone with his thoughts, and his mind was on the future. One urgent task had been put to bed, but all that did was make the deadline loom ever larger. The real enemy was almost upon them. Remy looked up at the rain with a frown and wished that it would stop pouring just long enough for him to enjoy one walk with a lit joint in his hands. The rain had other ideas though. The sky was the province of the angels, and the angels were pissing on Remy and his desires.
Remy's path brought him to the St. Louis Cathedral. It was a magnificent, beautiful piece of architecture that loomed over the surroundings with its triple steeples. Its halls were forever empty since the last believers were driven out of the city at gunpoint. Now its exterior walls functioned as a memorial to the dead. Pictures, flowers, and candles were everywhere to be seen. The building was empty, but some of the habits associated with it remained. Leaving religion behind was like leaving an abusive lover for some people. Sometimes they remember a little of the good and find their way back. Nancy had added pictures for all of the latest victims of the conflict. The portraits that she took always told a story about the people
that were lost. She somehow always managed to capture their essence. People would gather there when they wanted to think of those people and those stories again. It was a place of powerful memories.
In the city's prime, on a sunny day, you would see palm readers, psychics, and other fortune tellers gather in the square in front of the cathedral. Their backs were to a bronze statue of General Andrew Jackson riding a horse with its front hooves raised into the air. They would ply their trade and try to lure passing tourists to their table. Many a future had been foretold on this very spot. Remy had always thought the close proximity of the cathedral to those practicing in the occult to be some kind of secret joke. Many years ago, the Christians would have burned people at the stake for such an insult. That was New Orleans in a nutshell. One giant spiritual contradiction. Remy wasn't even all that sure about what he believed anymore. He had carried on with his mother’s traditions, but he often felt that it was more to honour her memory than paying tribute to the Loa.
All the fortune tellers were gone now. All save one. Madame Rousseau still worked her spot in between the triple steeples of the cathedral and the watchful bronzed eyes of General Jackson. Even in the rain, she worked her spot. Even at the end of the world. It was all that she had ever done. Her face was old and wise. Her eyes were blind and the colour of milk. She sat wearing a dress made of black lace, and over her head, she held an entirely weather inappropriate black, lace umbrella. Her free hand rested upon a deck of tarot cards topped by a clear quartz crystal that sat upon a fold-out table. In front of that table was an empty chair.
Her head turned and her blind eyes fixed upon his seeing ones. Remy felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest as he walked towards the empty chair. A chair that he had been avoiding for quite some time. Madame Rousseau smiled at him warmly as he sat in the chair.
“What brings you to my table, Voodoo King?”
“I felt that I was supposed to sit here.”
“That is so. That seat has been waiting for you. It knows that you have a question for the cards.”
Killing Angels Page 17