El Bolero de la Chica Loca de Demonia

Clayton did not want Ileana to come with him, but she insisted. The girl had absolutely no other place to go, and he did not really mind having her around even though she bore far too much of a similarity to that damn cowgirl. There was just something about her he liked. She seemed to be attached to Clayton at the hip, and had been completely unwilling to leave his side after he saved her life. Still, he wished she would have at least stayed in the van while he got this over with; this was no business for someone like her to be at all involved in.

After Elaine’s tantrum that sent her out of the storage room they had taken momentary refuge in, the pair spent roughly an hour searching the catacombs for her. Eventually they came upon a van with the keys still in the ignition. Little did they know that if they would have walked the other way, they would have run straight into her. It seemed the universe had other plans for all of them, though.

Ileana was completely unable to drive so that left a one-armed Clayton at the wheel. He was thankful it was not his dominant arm in the makeshift sling. Once on the road and a decent distant away from the cathedral, Clayton got a phone call.

That phone call brought him to a place simply called “Louie’s”. It was a wretched hive of scum and villainy owned by an American that fancied himself an information broker. Clayton had been hoping to avoid it during his stay in Mexico City, but the fact of the matter was that he was completely penniless. One thing the place had going for it was the nightly cage fights. It was rumored that one of the fighters coming up that night lost an arm in a farming accident and Clayton was looking forward to seeing that. If the man was at all worth his salt, all Clayton would have to do was watch him fight and he would be just as good at whatever techniques the one armed man specialized in. It was an ability he inherited from his father, and he looked at it as both a gift and a curse. If he concentrated, he could master techniques that would take nearly anyone else on the planet years to master. It did have its draw backs, though. He was never quite sure if the way he did anything was because that was how he did it or if he subconsciously picked up the way someone else did it. Others might not be bothered by something like that, but Clayton preferred not to think about it.

Clayton and Ileana sat watching the brutal blood sport while waiting for Louie to send someone to inform them that he was ready to see them. Ileana covered her eyes for most of it but Clayton watched intently and absorbed what he could while he waited for the one armed fighter to make an appearance. He would not get to know whether there was truth to the rumor or not, as someone approached him to announce that Louie would see them now. “Clayton, mi amigo!” the short, rather well dressed Mexican man smiled revealing a gold tooth, “Long time no see! Like the new look? I’m moving up in the world, eh?” the man motioned to the high-end pinstriped suit he was sporting.

“Yeah, sure, you look nice, Paco.” Clayton really did not care what the scum was wearing and just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, “Is he ready now?”

“Right this way.” Paco led Clayton through the crowded criminal cantina and up a set of stairs with Ileana close behind. Paco opened the door and allowed the couple to walk in, as he entered behind them and closed the door.

They were greeted by the peculiar sight of a bearded, ponytailed, midget in a burgundy suit that probably cost more than most cars smoking a cigar. On either side of the man were women, with two more lying at his feet. “Clayton Wray, is that you? Jesus Christ, man. You look like shit.” The man chuckled between puffs of his cigar, “Ya know, when I heard you were down here. I knew you were broke and –“

“If I wasn’t broke I wouldn’t have come to see you. Just cut to the chase, huh?” Clayton interrupted the pint of slime. Ileana stayed clutched to his good arm, but said nothing. The entire situation made her nervous.

“Where are your manners?” Louie shook his head and picked up a remote, and pressed a button which caused two chairs to rise up from the floor. “Come on, sit down…” he motioned to the chairs “Don’t worry about the bitches. They don’t speak a word of English. But really, sit down. This is big.”

Clayton and Ileana both sat down as Louie began his story.

***
One hour later.
***

“Clayton, do you really believe that man? His story just seemed so crazy. And why would he tell you about it for free?” Ileana asked clayton as they walked back to the van
“That’s because he’s crazy, but as much as I hate to admit it, he’s never wrong. As for why he didn’t charge for that tip, he probably expects a favor later.” Clayton opened the door of the van, ”Now, are you sure you don’t have anywhere else to go? Things got ridiculous last time I got involved with a box.”

Once they were both in, Clayton drove off towards where the box was supposed to be using the directions Louie gave him; oblivious to the fact that they were being followed.

Heat summoned forth the boiling tar from asphalt roads. They oozed and sweltered along the sun parched roads that carved through the slummed outreaches of Mexico City. Only few dared to tread these streets with the determination that only someone whose name could only be carried through the hushed whispers of men who hid in shadows dared to mutter. This girl's name was not readily available to her.

"So then they find out Bruce Willis was dead the whole time. Anyways, that's how Armageddon ended..." The duo traipsed through the city for what seemed like hours. Elaine carried the metal box by a handle. The weight bore down on her arms, but she knew that no matter what this box held the key to something special. Her pistols ran slightly low on ammunition as a result of many side trips she and her companion made along the way. With only seven bullets left, Elaine knew that she needed to only use those rounds for special purposes. She made herself carry the box just to deter herself from firing wildly into the sky to make sure no invisible aliens were spying on Earth. She could always do that tomorrow.

"God..." She dropped the box to the ground without hesitation and pulled out a pistol. "My ear itches so much." She extended the vowel usage on the word 'so' while scratching her ear with her pistol. To gain better leverage on getting deep inside of her ear she kept her finger on the cusp of the trigger. "I can't imagine life without ears. That must be the worst experience you can live with." She rubbed the tip of the gun against her forehead. "So were you a human when you were alive, or are you like a dinosaur that wanted to look human so you just took all of your bones and rearranged them because you're ashamed because your entire species got owned by space debris?"

The streets signs that once acted as guided to this crime filled labyrinth disappeared. Gangs chopped them down to keep police from knowing how to get to emergency calls. The deeper and deeper they wandered into the heart of this land coincided with the lowering of the sun against the western front of the city. Soon darkness would prevail over the land, and the time for the hunters would come. Elaine and her companion needed to find Clayton before he plummeted into the dark crevices of the city.

"Where did you say we were going again?"

Bones had spent the hours, which felt like years to the skeleton, doing productive things. The girl seemed to not have any errands, but the way she zigzagged around the city like a crazy wasp trapped in glass it offered him ample opportunity to a few small things. Firstly, he stored away his Tommy Gun and Jacket in a locker in a bus station, bearing the name “Terminal Central Sur 'Tasqueña.'” Frankie also slung his shoulder hostler lower down his body, hiding it under his waistline where the gun rest against his hip bone. He made a quick visit to the bathroom before heading back out into the streets where an impatient girl had already wondered off on some exciting adventure, making sure to go over his bones carefully to find any “structural” weaknesses. Everything was okay it seemed. He paused in front of the Mirror and tugged out the rest of his broken Ulna and Radius, before straightening his tie and suspenders with his right hand. He straightened his hat and brushed off his sharp dust covered shoes with his gloved hand, brushed his pinstriped trousers down and then folded the rest of his now useless shirt sleeve back into itself. When he looked in the mirror again, he gave himself a shake of the head and walked out.

Following her did offer up some ample opportunities though; after beating up a mugger up so badly that he cried for his Momma, Frankie could pocket his mobile phone and make some urgent phonecalls around the city. He was asking about her, often in a hushed voice and back a few steps in case she deemed the act offensive in some way and his skull was introduced to an explosive round. His contacts were very limited however, and most of the time he got a “No Inglés,” or something much ruder. Those who did give information seemed to be more willing when the idea was put forward that they could make a little visit to whatever establishment, business or home they had. From what he could pick up she was bad news for any one in the Crime game, having turned up only a few days ago and done more damage than any police raid in the best decade. She was earning a nickname, something along the lines of “La Chica Loca de Demonio.” Beyond that, a few references to a man seen with her, apparently punching a homeless man.

When the battery died he simply dropped the phone to the ground and followed after the aimless Crazy Girl, nodding his head in agreement with whatever she said. They were getting into darker and more dangerous territory, it seemed, with the streets not being cluttered and narrow alleyways with the clear evidence of gangs. He was completely, one hundred percent sure that she was about to ask where they were, but he stayed quiet as he tried to think of a way to track down Mr. Right.

”I didn't say we were going anywhere, Princess.” He sighed, eyes roving around the graffiti cage that they had willingly walked into. If someone had wanted to set up an ambush, this would have been a perfect place. His eyes drifted back to “Ileana,” and he sighed in exaggeration, resisting the urge to bat the gun out of her hands. ”You know, one day your guns are going to go off when you're doing something like that. You're going to be itching your middle finger and then BOOM! Bye Bye hand, it was nice knowing you.” Unintentionally, he had lifted his left arm and waved a hand that no longer existed in the physical world. ”Then you'll probably forget you even had a hand in the first place, so I guess I should shut up.” He sighed, lifting his other hand and putting pressing on the indent of his now long gone nose, as if it would do anything for a migraine that was forming.

If he had been paying attention, he might have noticed the headlights turning on in the darkness that was no settling over Mexico City. Instead, they cast him in a black silhouette.

Tears began to well up in Ileana’s eyes as she clutched the pistol in her hands. She refused to fire on another human being, even if that refusal meant the end of the road for her and Clayton. She knew it would probably be forgivable if she was to injure or kill their pursuers, but she still just could not bring herself to do it. “What are you waiting for? Shoot them!” Clayton’s tone was one of desperation as he shouted to Ileana. He would have done it himself, but having one arm made it difficult to shoot and drive at the same time. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I just can’t! I’m just not like you and Elaine, ok?” the tears began to roll down Ileana’s face.

Clayton sighed, “Of course you can’t. Don’t worry… I got us into this and I’ll get us out. Just hold on and stay down, ok?” He tried to give as reassuring a smile as he could while still tearing recklessly through the Mexico City alleyways as fast as he could push the van to go. Their pursuers were two men in a black Cadillac; most definitely members of the cartel. They most likely saw the van near Louie’s and decided to follow from there. When Clayton became aware of their presence and tried to shake them, they became aggressive and tried running him and Ileana off the road. Clayton was not run off so easily, so the passenger of the Cadillac began to open fire on them with a .44 Magnum. It was a long, dangerous, high-speed chase that lead them to the alleyway that Bones and Elaine were searching for Clayton in.

Clayton took a sharp turn around a corner only to run the van straight into a black car similar to the one that was chasing him. He slammed on the breaks but it was too late to stop. The large van totaled the smaller luxury vehicle and came to a halt as its own frontend was smashed. Clayton and Ileana were both thankful for their seatbelts at that moment as the car after them was also unable to stop and crashed directly into the back of their van the same way they crashed into the car in front of them which left them sandwiched between the two cars. The men in the second car should have taken a page from Clayton and Ileana’s book and wore their seatbelts; both were sent flying face first through the windshield.

There was a brief moment of silence in the van as Clayton and Ileana both came to the realization that they were alive before Clayton stepped out of the vehicle to survey the damages.

"Boom, chicka, boom boom bam, dunka do do da..." Elaine scatted down the alleyway. "I'm totally a karate master. I once beat a guy with my bare hands after I shot him a few times. It was so baller-ass." A noise erupted from the end of the alleyway. Elaine skipped with her hands out to her sides while kicking her feet to an imaginary drum. "I was all like 'are you just going to lay down there while I'm all up here, muchacho? And then he was all 'aw you shot me nine times.' And then to show how good I am with catchy comebacks I said 'shut up,' and then started kicking him in the chest and head." She fell back into the tranquility of memories. "I'm glad I get to do things like that as a hero. It makes my day so fulfilled, like that gay Greek guy once said...um..." She continued to skip. "...'Something, something, everything she just said was right. The end.' Logic orbits me like a supernova of awesome in a galaxy of suck."

Breaking through the silence broke in the alley. A speeding van plowed into a black luxury car, but Elaine barely batted an eye to the oncoming danger. She pulled forth her pistols with Filipina fury. "My uncle was killed by an out of control van in Mexico..." She fired several bullets into the front of the van. Bullets echoed through metal of the engine as Elaine's barrels rang empty. "Heart disease and high speed chases are the same thing right?"

The skeleton watched the swaying shoulders and bobbing head of the crazy cowgirl as she began to Scat. He didn't think she had much talent for it and it wasn't something he really enjoyed with some jazz to go with it. Hot Jazz and Cool Scotch. He paused as he wandered in his head if that was something from the past or from a movie he once saw. Heh, he might be getting Alzheimer's if he was mixing the two up. Haha, A skeleton with Alzheimer's. Frankie shook his head and walked along, his shadow cast hard on he back of the girl. He should have noticed it, not thinking up dumb jokes. It was the sound of rubber trying desperately to hold onto a road that was too slipery that broke him out of it. The cowgirl was abandoned in his thoughts as a bony gloved hand shot for a pistol that swung around just in time to see a van sheer into a black car. But the sudden lightly disorientated and he rose a glove to block it out, only hearing the sound of the second car sliding into it's final resting place; crushed along the narrowing side of the alleyway with the van in the middle and the first car crushed and steaming against the other side.

Two bodies laid at his feet. They seemed to have taken a trip from the first car; one sported lacerations all over his face and arms while the other just twitched his final thoughts. His skull had apparently been crashed into the base of an armless street sign. There was no way he was getting up, not with the way his eyes stared in the glassy empty way. The skeleton trained his pistol on he Van as the silence was suddenly interrupted by someone climbing out. To a certain Crazy Cowgirl, she felt this was an affront. Perhaps the inhabitants of the Van should been thrown dead from the vehicle too, because she immediately opened fire on the engine block, which caused the Skeleton to groan low in despair. Rather than listen to her any more, he stepped close and did something he thought could distract her. ”Lobsters are Technically Immortal, since they have a chemical that prevents cell degradation during division. That means they don't age like we do. Conceivably there are Lobsters as big as Submarines.”

As he said the random and rather insignificant fact, he walked towards the totalled car. He hoped it was enough to make her think as one of the thugs inside kicked open their door. It didn't open as fully as it should have. The Skeleton seemed to go unnoticed as he began to try to slide his way out of the door, gun trembling in his hands as a frightened girl looked out of the Van's wind shield at the Skeleton. He paid her little attention as the Cartel member turned and fired a single shot at a sharp diagonal up into his jaw. It clicked out of place before being sucked back in, the bullet carving a broken little hole in his mouth. Bony hands wrapped around the door frame and suddenly there was a hard whump as it came down on the man's neck, who choked out a squeal of surprise pain and choked into the street, even going so far as being sick.

He glanced back up at the girl in the cab and shook his head, his eyes gliding over her features before turning back to look at the inhabitant of the Van. There was a pause as a cog clicked into place and his hands on the door slicked just enough for the thug to lift his hand and try to pull the trigger on his weapon. It seemed to malfunction, the cartridge being blown backwards by something stuck in the barrel. Blood exploded up the Skeleton's white shirt and the van's front.

There were more gunshots coming from in front of them. Maybe the owners of the car didn’t appreciate being smashed into. Clayton ducked behind the open van door the way police officers did in the movies, and shouted to Ileana to get down. He shouting was answered with a scream.

Ileana was startled at the sight of the walking skeleton in front of her. Had she just died? Was this the reaper coming to claim her eternal soul? She watched on in horror as he claimed the soul of a dying man climbing from the wreckage, and knew that she would be next. She let out a much fainter scream (as loud as her fear paralyzed vocal chords would allow) and then fainted.

Clayton looked to his right at the fainted Ileana and then up out the windshield. Clayton was taken aback a bit by the visage of the skeleton out the window and raised Elaine’s pistol with a slight tremble in his hand. No wonder she fainted. That was when he caught the sight of the shooter out of the corner of his eye; it was Elaine. Of course it was Elaine. Great. Without taking his eyes from the skeleton he called out to her. “Elaine, couple questions. What are you doing out here? Why are you shooting at us? And is this Skeleton with you, or should I go ahead and shoot it?”

"Oh good, you see him too." Elaine lowered her pistols to her side, while steam rose from the smoldering engine block. "Okay, well first of all who is Elaine? Fourth, my name is Ileana and I am a poor orphan from Mexico City who walked here from Louisiana. Thirdly, as a master of karate I no longer use guns and only..." As the conversation drew on she remembered what the skeleton told. "...Shut the fuck up!" She spoke with an excited fervor. "...But if the lobsters are bigger than submarines, how big are the submarines that the lobsters use?" Elaine scratched the back of her head in confusion. "But if there telomeres are immortal when do they stop growing? Do they have some sort of stopping period with growth plates, or do they go on forever and continue to grow?" She kicked the dirt around her feet. "No, no no..." She let out a disgruntled shout. "None of this makes sense. In my galaxy of awesome you shine like a blackhole of suck skeleton guy. You can make yourself look human, but your still just a bunch of punk ass dinosaurs that got jacked up by space debris."

”Jesus H. Christ!” The skeleton yelped in surprise as a woman just point blank screamed at him through a pane of glass. It happened before, it'd happen again, but the sudden sound made him step back and reach out with an arm that no longer had any working hand. The back of his fancy and dirty dress shoes hit a cobble and he was sent wheeling back into the totalled car. ”Calm down Princess-Oh you fainted.” He watched her slump in the chair as his jaw slid into a grimace. He slide his hand up on the car roof and tapped it lightly, trying to play the whole thing of as completely cool when it was just another awkward social moment. And then he got another gun pointed at him. ”You know, I can't help but think if I just quiet in the desert this whole screw-ball of a day would have been avoided.” He mused to himself as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

”Elaine?” He said suddenly, looking into the man's face. Well, he seemed to only be a little bit frightened; that meant that he was either unaware of the Cowgirl's capacity to ruin people's carefully built lives, or was probably just as crazy as her. Elaine, if that was her name, had been seemingly perplexed by the random fact he had thrown out. He'd remember the trick for later if he didn't want her killing someone. As she talked he tried his best to tune it out (A feat he had yet to perfect) and lifted his good hand, showing it empty. ”I'm on your side. In fact, if you're taking her with you, I'm more than on your side, Son. I'd owe you one the size of a... a... the size of a Galaxy of Awesome.” He glanced at Elaine and scowled ever so slightly, the air of the emotion radiating out in waves. And yet he couldn't help but grin; mainly because that was the default expression of a Skeleton.

Clayton stared at Elaine blankly for a moment. “Ok, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, but that’s ok, because I’m sure you don’t either.” He turned to Bones, “Ok, first of all, I’m not your son. Second, who said I’m taking her anywhere? But anyway, I can’t say I blame you for hoping I would.” Clayton could not help but hate being called “son”; for some reason it grated against his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He looked down at his hand and realized he still had Elaine’s pistol aimed at the skeleton, and quickly put it down. It was probably impolite to point guns at friendly skeletons, even if they were already dead. “Now, I have absolutely no idea what to do when someone faints. Should we just carry her away or what? Because we really shouldn’t stick around here.”
As he spoke Ileana quickly began to come to, and raised her head.

“Clayton, are we dead?”

“Oh. Nevermind then.” She was fine after all “Not yet, but I found Elaine so ask me again in a few minutes.” he answered.

While the chatter of the confused people continued Elaine lost focus of her surroundings. They kept talking about things, but in all honesty Elaine checked out; something stole her attention from the uncomfortable conversation floating around. In the midst of everything she felt a kernel in between her teeth. "Did I eat something with kernels today?" She spoke in a low, easily ignored voice. "This Elaine sounds like a terrible person." She muttered to herself. "Someone should do something about her."

While Clayton began to get more annoyed, Elaine pushed her gun into her mouth. She need to get this kernel and the sight on her gun gave her a perfect toothpick. She continued to try and pull the kernel out when she noticed Clayton's answer to Bones calling him 'Son.' As the she pulled the pistol out it suddenly discharged. The bullet rang out, echoing through the alleyway.

"He doesn't like being called son, because his father abandoned him and left a vacancy that he fills with other vices." She went back to trying to extradite the kernel with her pistol.

”Sorry.” He muttered, turning to look at him again. Bones wasn't a fan of the word either, but for some reason he felt the compulsion to say it to the guy with an arm in his sling. He looked at the arm and then back to the Crazy Cowgirl and wondered if she was the cause of it. It wouldn't be all too surprising. ”Moving. Yes, we should move. I don't know what to do with knocked out kittens-” He stopped as he heard the sleeping occupant of the van suddenly stir. Carefully he turned away from her and instead focused on the Cowgirl. It seemed like she was trying to get something out of her teeth in the dumbest way that could ever be imagined. It was something the guy said that made him jerk his shoulders forward and splutter a choked laugh. He shook his head and turned to look at Clayton. ”Speak for yourself. Nice to meet you. Bones.”

The gunshot echoed down the alleyway and didn't bother the Skeleton in the slightest. What did bother him was that she seemed to always naturally avoid any damage. He was sure that if he blew one of her own toes off she'd respect those damn guns more. ”For the love of-Oh.” He glanced at Clayton and then took a step away from the car. ”Well, Grifter, we better get moving. If you're not going to take her off my hands we might as well try to find some secluded spot where we can talk about this and she can not shoot anyone. And is... She her twin or something?” Frankie mumbled, jerking his skull and hat towards Illeana. He was a bit worried... Twice the trouble was too much. ”Because if she is I'll trade my evil for your good.”

The stray gunshot caused Ileana to instinctively duck back down in the van. She lived around the cartel her entire life, but had never heard as many bullets being fired as she heard that day. She absolutely abhorred violence, which made her question why she was in this alley way in the first place. It turned out that the grim reaper was actually friendly, though and sensible enough to want to leave this place.

“Brilliant observations, Miss.” Clayton wondered how exactly she knew about that part of his life. To his knowledge he never told her anything about that sort of thing. He decided to shrug off her stingingly accurate observation and chalk it up as one of the weird things she was just right about.

The skeleton introduced himself as Bones. “I can tell.” Clayton smirked. He had a bad habit of doing that whenever he thought he was being clever. “ Yeah, I’d rather not be here when Mexico City’s finest show up.” Bones’s question about the physical similarities between the two women reminded Clayton that they did, infact, look exactly the same. It was strange to him that since Elaine left the two it was as if they looked completely different. Sure, Ileana still looked exactly like Elaine, and was even dressed the same, but Clayton had no trouble telling them apart anymore because looks were really all they shared. “What makes you think she’s the good one?”

Claytons last remark elicited a scowl from Ileana. She wondered how he could say such a thing even jokingly. She was nothing like the cowgirl.

"We should walk back to Louisiana; it's only a few blocks, and why is there a mirror in your front seat." Elaine walked over to stare at Ileana. "Your mirror is broken. I didn't think they could break by not moving though. Unless..." Deduction kicked in. "It's not a mirror, but we in a state of quantum entanglement with this Elaine you keep speaking of." As she turned back to the alleyway she spotted the box she had carried all the way from the bar.

This triggered something in her head and Elaine remembered something important. "Do you still have your keys?" She implied to Clayton. "I found this metal box, and it is probably, like the most important thing ever, ever, ever. So, open it..." She held the box up towards Clayton "...now. God, just because your dad doesn't love you doesn't mean you have to be slow and useless." That not being enough, Elaine decided to continue speaking. "This is probably why he left."

He gave a roll of his eyes at the first sentence the Grifter directed towards him. He shrugged lightly, his bony shoulders sliding up and then down, as his broken arm moved in small useless circles. ”Oh, I don't know. That one other there was telling me earlier about how much of a karate master she was, because she beat up a man who was probably bleeding to death after being shot. Sure, I didn't know the guy, but no one deserves to be tenderized before being dropped into a grave.” He turned his head up to Illeana and then winced a little, hoping that the sentence didn't bother her too much. He moved a gloved hand to the blood splatter on his chest and smeared it across, discreetly trying to flick the skull and brains off, before they dried to him. He also was immediately reminded of his own torture at the hands of men he called family and friends, but that was pushed out of skull like a piece of rope tied through an eye socket.

And over wondered Crazy, which made Bones move slightly behind out of sight. As she stared intently at the “broken mirror,” he just looked at Illeana and Claton, shook his head and lifted his only good hand, twirling his finger around in small circles near his temple. When she turned to look for his box he stuffed his hands into his pants and rocked back on his heels, hoping to god that she didn't get the idea in her head to put a bullet into his. He watched her waddle back over with the impenetrable box. It seemed that she knew more about him now. As he watched her probably try to destroy any self esteem, he felt sure that this was the guy she wanted to marry.

”The Andorran army, Andorra being a small country in Southwest Europe, consists of ten men, all of whom are treated as officers. It has not fought for more than 700 years.“ Bones winced at her as he tried to distract her with another completely odd fact.