This is Chapter 2 of a fan fiction piece I’m working on. I don’t own the copyrights to the characters, and it’s just an exercise in fun to help me spread my writing wings a little. It’s all in good fun. I should, however, warn you that there is some course language and some very not-nice things said in this chapter; While not true to me, this type of language is true to the characters as they have been developed by the “real” writers. So, if you are easily offended, please, give this one a miss.
His name was Remo, and he was confused. “What exactly is that thing, Chiun?”
“It is Vito,” replied the aged one.
“I didn’t ask what it’s name was, I asked what it is.”
“It is a gift from Harold the Mad,” responded Chiun, “It is a new oracle.”
“An oracle, eh? What’s this doohickey do?”
“It tells me how wonderful I am,” beamed the asian, “it is a very intelligent oracle.”
“You would think that, Chiun.” sighed Remo.
“It watches my favorite stories, and then shows them to me when I beckon. It even learns what I like and shows me other stories that I might enjoy at my leisure,” smiled Chiun.
“Oh, so it’s a vcr?”
“No!” shrieked Chiun, squinting his almond eyes, “it is a very sophisticated piece of machinery, far more advanced than that dreadful device that I had to lug around for years. This one has only 3 buttons, and it doesn’t flash 12:00 all day long. Plus, it was made in Korea, like all truely great inventions!”
“Okay, so it’s a smart VCR.” conceded the tall man.
Disgustedly, Chiun threw up his hands, muttering, “You are an ignorant white, I would not expect you to understand such advanced things.”
“I love you too, little father.”
Remo walked out of the room, looking cautiously down the hall for Grandma Mulberry. Since Chiun had insisted that she stay on staff, she had made his life in “Castle Sinanju” a living hell.
He glided down the hall, silently whisking past her room, hoping to avoid her taunting.
“Queer!” shouted the old woman, grating on his last nerve.
“I swear, I’m going to kill that old hag if Chiun doesn’t do something about her. I don’t care if they are making the beast with two backs in the astral plane.” thought Remo as he slipped into the bathroom.
Splashing water onto his face, he looked in the mirror. How many years had it been since the face that he had been born with had been taken from him? Yes, the face he had now was, for all intents and purposes, the same as it had been when he was forced into the service of his government, but even the most skilled of plastic surgeons couldn’t fully capture what nature had given him. How many years had it been, indeed? Sinanju had taught him to have a keen sense of time, but no amount of breathing would ever give Remo a sense of date.
Some decades ago, he had been a cop, working in the service of his city, earning a modest salary. Then his government called on him. It called on him by framing him for a murder he did not commit, faking his execution, and then blackmailing him into active duty. He could barely remember the life he had before he had been gifted with Sinanju.
He could barely remember the life he had before he had been cursed with Sinanju. While Chiun had been a surrogate father to Remo, and Remo loved him like a father, he was hell to live to with. Chiun was an asset in Remo’s life, and Remo knew it. Furthermore, Chiun knew it too, which is what made him a liability. Chiun was a master at more than just the source of all martial arts, he was a master of the guilt trip and could manipulate Remo into putting up with more than any mere mortal could tolerate.
Chiun’s latest juvenile insistence had been the hiring of the housekeeper from the seventh circle of hell. Chiun had implied that she was an ancient spirit named Grandma Mulberry, whoever that was, and that she should be revered. Remo couldn’t put his finger on what it was about himself that Grandma Mulberry took offense to, but she seemed to have it out for him.
“Come out faggot! I must clean bathroom! You not make yourself any prettier!” Grandma Mulberry shouted through the door.
“I swear…” sighed Remo, snapping the doorknob in two.