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The Daughters of Miss Violet Parr
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Violet Parr
Violet Parr

Feb-25-2009 03:59

Leopold Parr walked as fast as he possibly could in and around Victoria Station. The young officer had anticipated the arrival of his younger sister with great trepidation. He finally saw her waiting for him in a mauve overcoat and a large purple hat through the window of one of the station’s waiting rooms.

When Miss Violet Parr got up and walked out of the waiting room, Leopold’s walk turned into a sprint as he finally reached Violet and hugged her tightly in a collision of joy.

Violet pushed hard against his force not to fall on her back. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered. “Really Leopold, this show of affection can do with some self-restraint!”

“Two years in France…” Leopold replied, “…haven’t changed you a bit!”

“I know better than to let the French freely mold me to their pleasing!” Violet Parr huffed in a mock of indignation. Then she turned her gaze to a young girl standing next to her looking curiously and cautiously at Leopold. “…but I am afraid I can’t say the same about young Isabella.”

Leopold looked at his young niece in utter astonishment: Isabella was a pretty little thing with curiously mixed features. At such a young age, her skin looked like a yellowish tanned shade of ivory. She had long light brown hair, hazel eyes and a serious look of disapproval on her face.


Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-5-2009 13:58

*back on the streets of London, upon Bane's exit from the cafe*

Joey was walking with his hands in his pockets, amusing himself at Pierre’s freshened up image. “I guess we should’ve also equipped you with a bow tie, mate!” said him with a large mocking smile. Pierre stopped in his tracks and looked up at him, giving Bane the strangest impression that he actually understood him. The dog grumbled something in a sturdy throat sound and the quickly turned his back towards Joey, lifting his leg. Bane jumped back just in time to avoid Pierre’s…feelings release. “Damn, mate! I thought you didn’t understand English!” With this they went on.

Upon a short walk, Bane entered the small pub near Victoria Station. He raised an inquiring eyebrow towards the bartender, but received a negative answer. The man he was supposed to meet there had not yet arrived. The clock on the wall showed half hour past twelve, so Bane realized he was early and decided to wait. ‘It ain’t like I got anything better to do anyway…’

He took a seat somewhere close to a window and ordered himself a drink. Pierre lay sluggishly at his foot. Bane opened the newspaper he had picked up back in the café and started reading with curiosity. “Ok…let’s see if this will spread some light about that whole incident…” he mumbled.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-5-2009 13:59


‘Upon the arrival of the Maidenhead Express yesterday night, the lifeless body of a man was found inside the storage wagon. His body presented numerous stab wounds and his face was beyond recognition.’…”WHAT?!?” Joey almost shouted.

He started to read the article fast as his face was covering more and more with a pure expression of astonishment. ‘Upon examining the corpse, police concluded the cause of death was a stab in the middle of the chest, the rest of the mutilation following after his decease.’…”At least they got something right”…mumbled Bane, reading ahead. ‘The murder weapon was not located at the scene of the crime.’ “Hmmm…”…’The ID found on the man’s body…’ “What freaking ID?!?” went again Bane, this time keeping his voice slower though. “That fellow’s pockets were all empty when I searched him!” He shook his head slowly, squeezing his lips and resumed his reading. ‘The ID found on the man’s body helped the police identify him as Taslim Abdul Malik, apparently a lawyer of Arabic origin.’…”A lawyer?”…grumbled Bane again. “A lawyer with a bag full of dirty laundry? Quite hard to believe, if you ask me…”

The article continued…’Our sources tell us that Mr. Taslim Abdul Malik was returning from a business trip to New York, where he went to negotiate with the authorities the acquisition of a building formerly known as The Marquee Theatre. Apparently this building belongs to a prolific figure in the American city’s high society, a man by the name of Frank Georges who had disappeared several years ago. Upon his disappearance, his wife, by the name of Aisha Georges, had transformed the theatre into a ballroom renaming it The Marquee Grand Hall. Mrs. Georges became later on the unfortunate victim of an unexplained kidnapping and also disappeared...

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-5-2009 14:00

...Since currently Mr. and Mrs. Georges are still missing and they do not have any known relatives who could inherit their fortune, Mr. Abdul Malik had forwarded a motion for them to be declared deceased and their belongings to be taken into the property of the state, thus open for auction amongst other possibilities. Waiting for the New York Court of Law’s decision, Mr. Abdul Malik was returning to London for other business when he found his death. Although the police have not yet disclosed any clear reasons or possible suspects, our sources also inform us that they are looking into the Mr. and Mrs. Georges disappearance cases…’

There was also some additional information about the efforts of the police and the sorrow of the city officials for such a violent and tragic event, but most of it was just rubbish for filling the page. Above the article there were two pictures: the massacred body and a group picture out of which one man was marked as being the victim. Bane took a closer look at it. As any picture in a newspaper it was unclear, yet Joey was almost certain the man pointed in it was not the one he saw on the train. “How the hell could’ve done this?...” he mumbled…”hmmm…come to think of it, I never saw the nun falling or jumping out of the train. Maybe she was still there and she came back to finish the job…Now that’s one hell of a bloody nun!”

Joey set the paper aside on the table, trying to focus. He was already muddled by all the information he had just acquired, and even more by its contradiction with what he had witnessed with his own eyes. He started reviewing it, filtering through his instincts and logic.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-5-2009 14:01

“Ok…let’s see now what we have. A man was murdered on the train, Arabic, no ID, no nothing on him…other than Violet’s picture in an envelope with a missing letter and the cigarette case with…Frank Georges initials. The murderer may have been a woman dressed as a nun. I interrupted her, she got away and then she came back to make his body not able to be recognized. She planted the identification clues of another Arabic man, in connection somehow with Frank Georges. It seems to me she wanted the man on the train dead and she wanted his ID unknown. By replacing it with someone who Frank Georges might want out of the way, she points at him as the murderer. He’s disappeared long ago, so the case gets to dead end and she’s out in the clear: she’s not a suspect and nobody knows this man is dead. Now…the dead guy must have some connection Both to Frank Georges, as he was carrying a sign of him hidden, and also to Violet, as he had her picture. I need to find out who this man was…and also…what the hell happened to the real Abdul Malik. Hmmm…” Bane shook his head. “Still too many pieces missing in this puzzle.” He pulled out the cigarette case, studying it. Upon a minute or so of looking at it…”Damn!” He noticed an almost erased writing on the background engraving: “The Marquee Grand Hall.” The year of provenience was beyond recognition, but this discovery was enough for Bane to draw his conclusion: “This cigarette case is a Marquee hall asset from after Frank Georges’ disappearance. This means…maybe the dead man is connected not to him, but to his wife!”

At this point his chain of thoughts was abruptly interrupted as he noticed a man entering the door and approaching his table, upon exchanging a short gaze with the bartender. The fellow looked utterly common: medium height, medium build, wearing a casual squared jacket over a sweater and a wool cap. He seemed more like a regular worker on his day off rather than a man who could bring him an ‘easy cash job’.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-6-2009 06:21

The man came towards Joey’s table, eyeing him with a suspicious look. Bane took a sip from his glass and leaned back in his chair, gazing him straight in the eyes.

As the man touched with his hand the chair in front of Joey, Pierre lifted his head and pointed his eyes at the stranger. “Grrrr…”

The man gave him an ugly look. “Keep tha’ hideous cur on a leash, lad…or I’ma’ gonna make me a nice pair of gloves out of it!”

Bane put his hand on top of Pierre’s head, trying to get him to settle down. To his surprise, it worked. “Don’t worry about him there, fellow. He ain’t gonna do you no harm”…replied him out loud, and then added just for himself…”Maybe…” He pointed to the chair and the man took a seat.

They watched one another for a couple of seconds, not saying a word. Although it was just a short moment of silence, it felt like a whole lot of time. Finally Joey decided to break the tension and opened the conversation.

“I heard you might have a small…job for me?”

“Yo’ American?” the man avoided the answer.

“Now that’s kinda obvious, mate…ain’t it?” Bane realized the fellow was not just going to lay everything down on the table, so he decided to see how long his temper can hold him. If he was going to accept some strange job, he needed to have a clearer idea who he is dealing with.

“Yo’ arrived on the train last nigh’?” the man continued his questions.

“Maybe…” Bane started to pose a slight smile.

The man pinched the tip of his nose and leaned a bit ahead towards Joey. He was obviously starting to get annoyed. “What eva’ brings yo’r a’se he’e in London?”

“What’s it to you?”

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-6-2009 06:22

At this the man got clearly annoyed. He placed both his elbows on the table and gazed Bane, arching his eyebrows a bit. He spoke then in a low, but deliberate voice:

“Now’ listen he’e, American! Yo’ all hillbillies come he’e from ova’ the ocean thinkin’ yo’ own the place and yo’ can do whatever yo’ want, like yo’ do back home. Now’ le’me give yo’ a piece o’ news: YO’ AIN’T IN YO’ SLEEZY BACK YARD!

Bane opened his mouth to say something, but the man interrupted him with a swift cut hand gesture and continued.

“Now’ hold that jaw and listen: I kno’w yo’ stayin’ on ol’ Babington’s boat. Tonigh’, one hour befo’ midnigh’ yo’ fetch it unda’ the Cannon Street Bridge. We’e gonna pick a package from the’e.”

“Just like that?” asked Bane with a slightly suspicious tone of voice.

“Jus’ like what?”

“You take me on this job without knowing anything about me?”

“Yo’ wanna dance o’ something’ before? Yo’ Americans are all the same. I know enough.”

“Ok…what’s the package, then?”

“Yo’ don’t need to know.”

“Where will we be going?”

“Yo’ don’t need to know that eithe’, American. Jus’ bring yo’ a’se ova’ the’e.” With this the man got up and turned his back, aiming for the door.

“Hold on, mate…what about the dough?”

He turned his head slightly and answered without stopping: “Yo’ll be paid the’e, don’ worry. Yo’ll be pain in full.” He exited the pub’s door in a hurry.

“Strange fellow…” mumbled Bane as his brain wheels started to roll…’Now this is strange…This guy accepted me in for this job too easy. This may mean it’s either a test run, or…I ain’t due to finish this alive. The “new guy” is always expendable. He didn’t worry either about my cash or about my background…as if he knew something about me. Hmmm…’

Joey gulped what was last of his drink and got up. “I definitely need to watch my back on this one.” He paid the check, got one more bottle for the road a

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-6-2009 06:53

...and left towards his floating temporary home.

[Author's note: Sorry about this. Post limit function not working proper...I guess.]

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-6-2009 14:49

In about a quarter of an hour Bane made his way to the small ferry. Upon stepping on it, he looked at the sky. It was already afternoon. Pierre followed him aboard, but he decided to go somewhere down below the deck. Bane reached his pocket in search for his cigarettes, but he found out he had finished them all. “Damn!” Turning away to go search for a tobacco shop, he remembered about the couple of cigarettes in the dead man’s case. “Well now…I’d say he ain’t gonna notice them missing”…mumbled him while opening it up.

At that point, a small ship passing by created a wave that shook his ferry a little. Attempting to maintain his balance, Bane dropped the cigarette case from his hand. It made a short cracking noise as it fell onto the wooden deck. Joey looked down upon it and…”I’ll be damned!”

Hitting the hard floor of the boat, the case had broken into pieces, letting now visible to the eye the existence of a hidden compartment. Apparently one of its pieces had a double bottom. The open compartment had let out a…letter!

“How the hell did I miss this before?”…mumbled Joey, picking it up. It looked as if it could fit the envelope with Violet’s picture from the train. Bane opened the paper and started reading it:...

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-6-2009 14:50

‘Dear Mr. Esam,

My name is Douglas Watson and I write to you on behalf of Mrs. Aisha Georges, from the position of being her confident and legal advisor. We may not have much time at our disposal, so I will attempt to take the least possible of yours in reading this letter.

Mrs. Georges is currently fallen in ill and the doctors have all confirmed that her days are numbered. We are aware of the services you have provided her in the past, in regard of ensuring her and her reputation’s safety. Considering your loyalty towards Mrs. Georges, we have decided to entrust you with a final task, one that is highly important to her to be conducted towards its completion.

With no further introduction, please allow me to give you the details of the situation. During her youth, Mrs. Georges had given birth to a child, a daughter she had entrusted completely into the care of her father, Sir Albert Parr. She is now a young woman going by the name of Violet Parr. She is also the mother of two children, two daughters by the name of Isabella and Victoria Garrett.

Even though Mrs. Georges had never intended to have any contact with her daughter, life had brought them together at some point two years ago. As Mrs. Georges’ fought with her illness during the past few years, she had grown feelings of guilt towards her daughter and thus invested all her efforts and financial resources into finding her again. Unfortunately she did not encounter success into meeting her, but just into tracking down her location and also coming upon a piece of troubling information regarding her and her children’s safety being threatened.

At this point her resources are scarce, both material and physical, and considering her state she also had lost hope of ever seeing her again. Yet she had decided to make one last effort into protecting her and this letter is the result of her attempt.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Mar-6-2009 14:51

The information she came upon is terrifying, but unfortunately not very detailed. Our sources told us that a certain group with an intense criminal activity has received a contract to kidnap one of Miss Parr’s daughters. We believe her name is Isabella. Apparently, one of the many activities of this group is to sell children to certain customers, people who cannot produce their own and have the resources to afford purchasing one in this manner. Not only that, but the group is acting based on specific orders, taking children that are previously analyzed, portrayed and have their bio presented to their clients as possible options.

We do not know any names or other details in regard of this group, but only that they have had their center of activity in New York and that the leaders seem to be a man and woman.

The last piece of information our sources had managed to acquire is that Miss Violet Parr is due to arrive to London by the time this letter will reach you.

In the light of what I have revealed, Mrs. Georges and I would like to ask of you one last favor: to reach and warn her daughter about this situation…if possible, also to ensure or at least contribute to her safety, until the moment you will consider that the sum enclosed in this envelope will end its coverage.

There is also one more mention Mrs. Georges had asked me to make, in regard of her husband, Mr. Georges. As you know, several years ago he disappeared and has not been seen since. Mr. Georges apparently tried to murder Mrs. Georges’ daughter once in the past out of the simple reason of jealousy. Later on, there was another incident in Miss Parr’s life, a blast on a train she was on, that Mrs. Georges also believes to have been her husband’s work.

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