Warning: Lots of naughty language, some inappropriate groping, and some violence.
Author's Notes: I took a more cracky approach to this project, and keep in mind, that this is a tale being told by Santana, so please don't take it personally when certain persons are depicted as evil villains!
Sugar Lopez-Pierce lay in bed, miserably sick. Her Mama, Santana, was staying home from her job as a lawyer to be with her today, and Grandpa Pierce had dropped by earlier to bring her some of his special chicken noodle soup. It was a magic recipe, guaranteed to make her better in no time. Bored, she sat up and decided to play make-believe. She started arranging her stuffed animals around her in bed, entertaining childish fantasies of being a famous performer like her Auntie. She was five and three-quarters years old, it was never too early to practice waving at her adoring fans. She froze in the middle of an imaginary interview with Ursie Unicorn and Lewie Lobster when she heard voices murmuring in the hallway. She perked up when she recognized her Mommy’s voice. Mommy worked at a top secret government site, building time machines.
Her bedroom door creaked open as her mommies came into her bedroom. “Hey, there’s my favorite girl!” Brittany smoothed away a sweaty brown tendril from Sugar’s forehead. “Guess what, baby! Mama’s going to treat us to a story about Uncle Puck and Aunt Rachel.” Sugar swept her bedcovers to the side, scooting over so Mommy could sit on the bed with her. “Is this going to be the story about how Uncle Puck and Aunt Rachel fell in love? I’ve been asking you for ages to tell me that one!”
Santana settled herself at the foot of the kiddie bed. “Well, since you’re sick, I figured you had the time to hear it. Like most Puckleberry stories, it’s a long one.” Sugar clutched her stuffed animals in her arms and waited eagerly for the story to begin.
“Once upon a time, your Uncle Puck was more of a loser than he is today…”
Noah Puckerman had been raised on a small farm in the Kingdom of Lima. He was the eldest son of a former knight who had left the family and the kingdom when Puck was but a child. Growing up, Puck had become obsessed with warriorly pursuits, devoting himself to various sports such as jousting and swordplay. Well, to be particular, he liked to engage in two different kinds of swordplay. At home however, his favorite pastimes were riding his horse and tormenting the servant who worked there. Her name was Rachel Berry, but he never called her that—what was he, a wuss? Nothing gave Puck as much pleasure as ordering Rachel around.
“Yo B, polish my horse’s saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning. I gotta look like a stud so I can score with Countess Rhodes.” Puck commanded, as he swung down from his horse, J.D. He spent most of his days working as a knight, giving Rachel a reprieve until mid-afternoons and weekends. Puck unstrapped the saddle and without ceremony deposited it into her arms. Rachel was a tiny little thing and the saddle nearly bowled her over. Looking up at him with a glare, Rachel could only swallow her self-righteous indignation.
“As you wish.”
Rachel Berry was the only daughter of Hiram and Leroy Berry, who had been forced to leave the Kingdom because King Russell and his family were close-minded and refused to allow two men to be married and ‘flaunting’ their lifestyle. They couldn’t take Rachel with them, so she was forced to work for room and board at the Puckerman farm. Aviva Puckerman had taken pity on Rachel, believing that the Jewish population of the Kingdom had to stick together. And unfortunately, her son took advantage of Rachel’s status as a servant all too often.
Thus, the words ‘as you wish’ were all she ever said to him. Puck could tell the nicknames pissed her off because she would press her lips tightly together, her face would flush, and her hands would close into tiny fists at her side. Some days, he expected her to actually stomp her feet in frustration. But he knew his little Farm Diva totally wanted a ride on the Puckasaurus because her bosom would legit heave whenever he ordered her around. But she always jutted out her chin, said ‘as you wish’ and did as he commanded as if she were still better than him. And shit, Puck hated feeling like the bad guy, especially when Berry was pretty awesome in her own way. After a brief stint in the village stockades for drunkenly attempting to shake down Jacob Ben Israel for the coins he kept on his person, Puck had promised God he would be a better person. This, of course, proved to be too difficult at first, so he decided he’d only be nicer to fellow Jews. Except Jacob, because dude was a motherfucking creep and he didn’t like the way Jewfro stalked Berry. So beyond his Ma and his sister, his newfound resolution only applied to Rachel Berry.
“JewJewB, fill these with water,” there was a momentary pause before he finished, “Please?”
This time, instead of looking at Puck like he was something she wanted to scrape off her shoe, Rachel actually smiled at him. “As you wish, Noah.”
Puck had been accused of having the emotional range of a teaspoon, but he was smart enough to figure out that from that day on, whenever Rachel said, “as you wish,” she was trying to telepathically tell him something else, and that something else was “I’m totally creaming my panties for you, Puck.” Or whatever. And, fuck, even though she still made him want to light himself on fire, he kinda dug her right back.
One day, he decided to find a way to let her know he liked her. Like a badass, though. He was in the barn again, fixing one of the strings on his guitar, when Rachel came in lugging two buckets of water. With a rather unladylike grunt, she set them down and wiped the light sheen of sweat off her brow. “Yo, Berrylicious!” His eyes looked around furtively for an excuse. “Fetch me the sander off the shelf up there, will ya?”
She looked at him from underneath her lashes with a shy smile. “As you wish, Noah.” She walked past him and climbed up onto a rickety footstool so she could reach the tools all the way up on the shelf. The footstool started to wobble, however, and with a yelp of alarm she begged him.
“Help me, Noah!”
He sturdied her as she grabbed ahold of the sander and kept his arms around her as she turned around to face him. Their lips were inches apart and Rachel was looking at him with wide Bambi-eyes. “As you wish,” was all he could think of to say. Then he kissed her.
(Santana tried not to smile when her daughter made a wretched sound of disgust.)
But Rachel did not want to get married and settle down in the Kingdom of Lima. She had big dreams of going to the Empire of New York City where her fathers were, to become a famous performer on the Broad Way. Puck didn’t exactly envision himself living the rest of his life in Lima, so he decided he would go with her, but he would have to wait until he finished his contract with the Knights of Lima. So she packed up her few belongings and left the farm to seek her fortune across the land in New York City. This made Puck sad, but because he was emotionally stunted, he couldn’t deal with it.
“You’ll end up breaking up with me, I know it,” he pouted. “You’ll go to New York and become famous and find some perfectly-groomed wuss to gab about Idina Menzel with and I’ll be left here like a Lima Loser.”
This, of course, upset Rachel. She smacked one of his biceps. “You stop that, Noah Puckerman! You are not a Lima Loser and we will both make it to New York City.”
“Shoot, babe.” Puck was still grousing. “I just hate that you’re heading up there alone. I should be with you so I can use my ninja knight skills to go all Death Star on any punks who try to get in your way.”
“Oh, Noah, that’s so sweet! But don’t you worry, I have pepper spray and my rape whistle. Plus, there’s the Krav Maga classes Daddy made me take. I will always come back for you, no matter what.”
“But how can you be sure?”
Rachel smiled. “This is true love, Noah. Do you think this happens every day? Plus, where else would I find a strapping young man with biceps like yours, a lovely singing voice, and such a natural talent on the guitar?”
Puck smirked down at her “Righteous. I know you like the way I strum my guitar, you weren’t complaining when I used my fingers on you last night.” She could only groan.
“Noah! Must you ruin the moment by being so crass?”
She kissed him fervently, anyways.
Unfortunately, Rachel didn’t reach her destination. She had taken a carriage all the way to the coast, before embarking on a ship that would take her up north to New York City. But her ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Sands, who never left captives alive. When Puck got the news that Rachel was murdered—
(Sugar interrupted with a shocked gasp, clutching her stuffed duck closer. “Murdered by pirates is good, but she’s obviously alive now.” Brittany shushed her.)
He went into his room and shut the door and for days he neither slept nor ate. Finally, one day, he made a decision. “Fuck that true love shit. What’s it good for?”
And so he devoted himself to the old pursuits: jousting, shaking down Ben Israel, swordplay, and the other kind of swordplay. His heart turned cold again. Colder, perhaps, than it had ever been, even after his father had left.
Five Years Later
The main square of Lima was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the Princess’ groom-to-be. After a trumpet fanfare cut through the chatter of the townspeople, Princess Quinn Fabray walked up to the balcony, resplendent in a light green dress with forest green velvet accents. Her daddy, King Russell had purchased it for her all the way from the Kingdom of Columbus.
The Princess addressed her subjects. “My people, a month from now this country will celebrate its 500th anniversary. On that sundown I shall marry a man who was once a commoner like yourself, but popular enough to rate consideration by me and my parents. Would you like to meet him?”
The crowd answered with a resounding, “Yes!”
She smiled, for she dearly loved to be adored. “Fair citizens of Lima, I introduce you to the Prince Puck!” With a flourish, she pointed to the double doors standing with two guards before it, behind the crowd. All the townspeople turned around to face the chapel. With another trumpet fanfare, they opened, and out came Noah Puckerman, all spiffed up. Puck bit back a groan, and tried to turn the murderous glare in his eyes into something neutral. Quinn had somehow blackmailed him, or bitched him into submission, because he was actually wearing tights. His junk should not be on display like this.
Puck’s emptiness consumed him. Although the law of the land gave Princess Quinn the right to choose her groom, he would’ve gone down a few notches in the other warriors’ eyes had he rejected her offer. After all, who in their mind would turn down the chance to be rich and royal? But he didn’t give a shit about her. Whatever. He’d be rich and powerful, and there’d be tons of serving wenches to bed, right?
He tried to grin at the townspeople and ignored the figure of his mother sobbing into her handkerchief because her son was going to marry a shiksa. Her and Bekah would never be poor again, so he figured she’d get over it eventually. With a sigh, he resigned himself to giving his future subjects a wave or two, putting his junk on display.
Despite Princess Quinn’s reassurances that Puck would one day grow to love her, the only joy he found was in his daily ride. Sometimes he liked to go out on his horse, too. One day, when he was out on J.D., he came across three travelers by the side of the road. There was a blonde woman in a track suit, an impeccably dressed man with sai swords strapped to his hips, and a giant with a dopey grin on his face.
The blonde woman was, in fact, Sue Sylvester. And she had nefarious motives.
“A word, good sir? We are but poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?” She gave him an overexaggerated bow. Her companions watched her actions with raised eyebrows. Puck didn’t really believe her, but he was beyond caring nowadays. “Sorry to disappoint you, but the closest one is miles away.”
The blonde woman only grinned smugly. “Oh, but that is good news, you mindless twit! Because then there will be no one to hear you scream like a little girl.” The giant, known as Finn Hudson, shrugged apologetically at Puck. “Sorry, dude. But if I don’t she’ll yell at me, and that sucks.” With that, he wrestled Puck off his horse before he could bolt away. The third assailant, a swordsman known far and wide as Kurt Hummel, helped out by bringing down the hilt of one of his swords on Puck’s head and all went black.
Some time later, the three abductors had arrived at the river, where they had a small ship waiting. Dismounting their horses, Kurt noticed that Coach Sylvester was tearing off a piece of fabric hidden in her saddlebag. “What in the world is that cheap, low-quality fabric you are ripping?”
“This, Sweet Porcelain, is a piece of fabric from the uniform of an officer from the Kingdom of Carmel.”
Finn looked confused, which is to say that Finn looked like Finn always did. “I don’t understand. Where is Carmel?”
Sue groaned loudly. “It’s the country across the Indiana frontier! The sworn enemy of Lima? Clearly, since you are built like the Tyrannosaurus Rex, you must have a similarly tiny brain.” She slapped the Prince’s horse’s flank, and it took off towards the castle. “GO!”
Turning around to face Kurt and Finn, she rested her fists on her hips. “You see, my little minions: once the horse reaches the castle, the fabric will make the Princess suspect the Carmelites have abducted her fiancé. When she finds his body dead on the Carmel frontier, her suspicions will be totally confirmed, and she will declare war on King Jesse St James and the rest of Carmel. And we will reap the benefits.”
Finn was more than a little shocked at Sue’s plan, and followed her up the plank onto the ship, carrying a still-unconscious Prince Puck. “Wait a minute! You never said anything about killing anyone!”
Sue rolled her eyes. “I’ve hired you to help me start a war. It’s a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition. It’s a little bit too late to be worrying about morality, Finnessa.”
“I just don’t think it’s right to kill an innocent man.” He tried to put Puck down gently, but the smaller man’s head still hit the deck with a rather sickening crack. Sue narrowed her eyes at the giant, and Finn gulped. “Am I going mad or did the word ‘think’ escape your lips? You were not hired for your brains, you hippopotamic landmass!”
Kurt smoothly leaped over the side of the ship. “I agree with Finn, Coach Sylvester. We’ll just stir up more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Oh look, the ladyboy has spoken! Don’t give yourself wrinkles worrying about the Prince. I will kill him myself. And always remember this, Favorite Gay: when I found you, you were drinking Shirley Temples out of a thermos and sewing designer knockoffs instead of purchasing the real articles yourself. And you! You were working in a wagon-repair shed. Do you want me to send you two back to where you were?” Neither man spoke, and with a satisfied grunt, Sue unwound the rope holding the sails still.
Kurt raised an eyebrow in Finn’s direction. “That her, she can fuss.”
Finn grinned. “I think she likes to scream at us.”
Kurt smiled and continued playing their game. “She probably means no harm…”
“She’s really very short on charm.”
“Finn, are there rocks ahead?”
The giant only shrugged. “If there were, we’d all be dead.”
The two were snickering when Sue cut in. “STOP YOUR FLAPPING! No more rhymes now, I mean it!”
Finn tried, he really did. “Anyone want a peanut?”
His only response was an enraged roar.
Night had fallen and the small ship was on its way down the river, with only moonlight to guide its way. Prince Puck had awoken to find one wrist tied to a rope fastener on the deck. Sue had sat down and was practicing her wood carving. This one she was making into a likeness of Sue Sylvester. “We’ll reach the cliffs before dawn.” When there was no response, she tore her eyes away from her masterpiece and found Kurt staring into the distance. “Sweet Porcelain, as much as I appreciate watchfulness, I prefer to have your eyes on me, wide with awe, pretending you could understand even a fraction of my ingenious machinations.”
Kurt was frowning. “Are you sure nobody’s following us?”
“Inconceivable!” she snorted.
Puck knew he was up shit creek without a paddle, but that was no excuse to turn into a sniveling wuss. With a smirk, he cut into their conversation. “I wouldn’t be so cocky, ladies. All the Princess has to do is crook her perfect little finger and the entire army will be after this hinky dinky ship. And when you’re caught, she’ll watch you hang with a smile.”
“Of all the necks on this boat, your Highness,” Sue pointed out, her words punctuated with a jab of her knife, “the one you should be worrying about is your own.” Seeing that her swordsman was still staring out into the distance, she waved her arm angrily towards him. “Stop doing that! How do you expect to win Abductor-of-the-Year in the Tri-State Kingdoms if you can’t be overconfident and arrogant about the fallibility of your plan?”
He only rolled his eyes. “Are you sure nobody’s following us?”
“I told you it’s completely inconceivable. No one in Carmel knows what we’ve done, and there’s no way anyone from Lima could get here so fast.” She finished carving the trademark Sue Sylvester smirk, then paused. “Out of curiosity why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason. I just happened to look behind us and there’s a ship following us,” came the droll reply.
“What!” Coach Sylvester shrieked, knocking over her stool as she stood up in haste. Stalking over to Kurt’s spot by the starboard side, she squinted her eyes into the darkness, and sure enough, there was a ship off in the distance. “Bah, it’s probably some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night through eel-infested waters. Nothing to worry about.”
There was a splash behind them. While they were all occupied staring off the starboard side, Puck had jumped into the water off the port-side hull and was swimming away.
“What! Go in! Get after him!” Sue shoved at Finn’s hulking figure and Kurt slapped away her attempts at clutching a handful of his Marc Jacobs Limited Edition pinstriped dress shirt.
“Sorry, I can’t help you. I don’t swim, I have no way of knowing what all that bacteria and pollution in the water could do to my skin.”
Finn shrugged. “I only dog paddle,” he said, fake-swimming through air.
“Argh! Veer left left left!” Sue hollered at the pair. Kurt got behind the wheel and turned the ship sharply to the left. The three abductors could hear the sound of shrieking coming closer. Pulling out her megaphone, Sue addressed the escaping Prince.
“Do you know what that sound is highness?” she asked. “Those are the shrieking eels! If you don’t believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they are about to feed on human flesh!” She wasn’t joking, Puck was treading water and he could see a huge dark shape slithering towards him. “If you swim back now, I promise no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the eels.” It was getting closer and closer and his senses were filled by the sound of high-pitched shrieking—
(“Sanny, wait. Maybe we should stop now.” Brittany sensed that her daughter was becoming frightened by the way she was tensing in her lap. “Don’t worry duckie, Uncle Puck doesn’t get eaten by the eels this time.”
Sugar huffed and crossed her arms. “I’m not scared! Mama, you can’t stop there I have to know what happens next. Long as there’s no kissing.”
Santana smiled at her progeny. “Tough, if I had to spend years watching those two suck face, you get to suffer through me telling you about it. Anyways, back to the story…”)
Puck was praying fervently to Jew-God to save him so he could live to chase more cougars, when Finn reached down over the side of the ship and pulled Puck bodily out of the water. He was breathing heavily while Coach Sylvester paced from port to starside and ranted. “I am lactating with rage! Put the idiot down over there. Let him suffer in the wet and cold for his stupidity. See if I care if he gets pneumonia and dies!” Finn deposited Puck in a sodden mess and the young prince just glared at them all.
Kurt could still see the ship out in the distance. “I think he’s getting closer!”
“That ship is none of our concern. Sail on!” Turning to her prisoner, she towered over him, hands on her hips. “I suppose you think you’re brave, huh? I expected you to try to escape but the timing and execution of your little swim in eel-infested waters only demonstrates to me that there are no brains underneath that limp dead animal on top of your head. I have to say, I’m disappointed.”
Puck ran a hand protectively over his wet Mohawk. “My hair is badass, and fuck yeah, Puckfasa is brave compared to certain dumb bitches. You know why? Because I’m a grade-A Badass.”
The next morning, Kurt was once again watching the strange ship following them. “Look, Coach Sylvester, he’s right on top of us! If he’s using the same wind we are, he’ll be on top of us faster than Kim Kardashian can get married and divorced.” Coach Sylvester only snorted. “Whoever he is, he’s too late. See?” Kurt turned around and saw what Sue was staring at through her spyglass. “Oh my Gucci,” he murmured in awe. “The Cliffs of Insanity!”
With that, Sue whipped the other two crewmembers into a frenzy of action, directing the ship towards the cliffs. Within a half-hour, they had maneuvered the ship alongside the cliffs. They dropped anchor and disembarked, staring up at the impossibly steep rock face. “There, we’re safe. According to my ingenious plan, only Frankenteen here is strong enough to climb up the cliff and carry us. Whoever the other guy is, he’ll have to sail around for hours until he finds a harbor.” She started twirling a length of tied rope above her head like a lasso, eyes zeroing on the spot at the top. And Sue Sylvester always gets the rope hooked on the first try.
They were halfway to the top, Finn pulling himself up while Sue, Kurt, and Puck were attached to him, when below them, a small boat docked near their ship and a small masked figured entirely clothed in black began to climb up the same rope.
Kurt began to shriek and squirm. “He’s climbing the rope, and he’s gaining on us!”
Looking down at the masked figure, Sue growled in frustration. “Inconceivable!”
Unstrapping her bullhorn, she held it right in front of Finn’s face. “Faster, Finnessa!”
“I thought I was going faster! This is hard!” he whimpered.
“Hard? You think this is hard? Try liberating Croatia single-handedly with only a butter knife and a sippy cup. That’s hard!” She screeched into his ear. Finn tried to protest.
“Well, I’ve got to carry three people, and he’s only got himself.”
“I’m going to have to find myself a new freak at Giants’R’Us.” Sue moaned.
By the time the four of them made it to the top, the masked figure was two-thirds of the way up the cliffside. Sue immediately set about cutting the rope and gave a self-satisfied nod when it went flying over the side of the cliff. Kurt peered over and saw that the figure in black was hanging on to the side of the cliff. Even Finn seemed impressed. “He’s got good arms. But he’s kinda tiny don’t you think?”
Sue shoved the giant to the side. “He’s still there? Inconceivable!”
Kurt rolled his eyes heavenward. “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means. Oh my god, he’s climbing.” The three stared in wonder as the small-statured man in black began to pull himself up slowly, using jutting stone as foot and hand-holds. Coach Sylvester began barking out orders.
“Whoever he is, he’s obviously seen us with the Prince and must therefore die. Gigantor, carry the prisoner! We’ll head straight for the Carmel frontier. Beyoncé, catch up to us when he’s dead. If he falls, fine. If not, I expect you to run him through with your swords. I want blood spurting out of the various holes in his body like the Trevi fountain.”
Kurt harrumphed. “If it’s all the same with you, I’m going to duel him left handed. It’s the honorable way to end this.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a bit of a hurry. If you don’t catch up, I’m leaving you behind!” Kurt knew she would make good on her threat. But he did have a few principles left. “It’s the only way I can be satisfied. If I use my right, it’ll be over too quickly.” Coach Sylvester peered down at him, her eyes measuring. Finally, she gave him a single nod. “Sue Sylvester understands the desire to draw out the enemy’s utter defeat. Very well.” She spun around and began to head away from the cliffs.
Finn turned away from the man-in-black’s progression up the cliff wall. “Be careful, Kurt. I don’t think people in masks can be trusted. Unless they’re Zorro. Or Batman and Robin.” Kurt nodded.
A shout interrupted their goodbyes. “I’m waiting!” Finn set out after the Coach, and with that Kurt was alone. He shook out his arms out to warm up, did a few lunges, and then a series of sword thrusts into empty air. Impatient, he looked over the edge. “Hello there! Slow going?”
“You see here, mister. I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it appears, so I would greatly appreciate it if you would not distract me from the rather monumental task before me,” came a very female voice. So, the masked figure was a woman? Kurt mentally clapped with excitement.
“Sorry.” Kurt he called out before he began to pace again.
“Thank you very much, Good Sir!”
Several more minutes passed, and Kurt tried calling over the edge again. “I don’t suppose you could, I don’t know, hurry up?”
A huff of annoyance drifted up to where he stood. “If you’re in such a rush, you could lower a rope or a tree branch, or find something useful to do!”
Kurt pondered the options. “I could do that, I’ve got some rope up here. But I don’t think you’d accept my help, considering I plan to slice you into little pieces with my swords.”
A pause. “Goodness, you are right. That does put a damper on our relationship and it leaves us with quite the conundrum.”
“But I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top,” he offered.
“That is very comforting, mister. But I’m afraid you’ll simply have to wait.”
He groaned. “I hate waiting. I could give you my word as a diva.”
Kurt could just hear the offense taken in her voice. “I will have you know that I have two gay dads and I protest the assumption that you being homosexual somehow makes you more trustworthy.”
“Is there any way you’ll trust me?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
Kurt sighed, he had one option left. “I swear on the soul of my father, Burt Hummel, you will reach the top alive.”
“Very well, you may throw me the rope.” “Capital!” he exclaimed, running over to the coil of rope.
It took mere minutes for him to help pull her up to the top. “Thank you kindly.” She said before starting to pull sword out of her pink, sparkly scabbard.
Kurt took pity on her, after all she had just climbed up the cliff face while he hitched a ride. “We’ll wait until you’re ready.”
“That’s so nice of you.”
“I do not mean to pry,” Kurt began, “but you don’t by any chance happen to know a man with six fingers on his right hand without the use of his legs?”
The masked woman looked a bit put out by the strange question. “Do you begin all conversations this way?”
“My father was slaughtered by a six fingered person in a wheeled chair.” Kurt explained to her. “He was a great ship repairman who made swords on the side. When the six-fingered person appeared and requested a special sword, my father took the job. He slaved a year before he was done.” Unsheathing it, he showed the pirate diva his sword, which was gold and sparkly at the hilt.
“I’ve never seen its equal!” She handed it back to him.
“The six-fingered person returned and demanded it, but at one-tenth the promised price. My father refused. Without a word, the six-fingered person unleashed several daggers, and one of them struck true into his heart. I loved my father, so naturally, I challenged his murderer to a duel. I failed. The six fingered person left me alive. But he left me these.” He pointed to the thin slivery scars, one on both cheeks from where he had mocked the defeated Kurt with his daggers.
She gasped in horror. “That’s horrible! How old were you?”
He had a faraway look in his eyes. “I was sixteen years old. When I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing. So, the next time we meet, I will not fail. I will go up to the six fingered person and say. “Hello. My name is Kurt Hummel. You killed my father. Prepare to die.””
His opponent was fascinated. “You’ve done nothing but study swordplay?”
“More pursue it than study, lately. See, I cannot find him. It has been six years now and I’m starting to lose confidence. I just work for Coach Sylvester to pay the bills. There’s not a lot of money in revenge”
“Well, I sincerely hope you find him someday, Kurt Hummel.” She solemnly declared, standing up.
“You’re ready now?”
The masked woman considered his question. “Whether I am or not, you’ve been more than fair.”
“You seem such a nice girl, I hate to kill you.”
“You appear to be a fellow diva. I would hate to die.”
Kurt smirked; he did admire a person capable of witty repartee. “Begin.” He twirled his swords before advancing. She parried his blows easily. “You are using Bonetti’s defense against me, huh?”
“I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain.”
“Naturally, you must expect me to attack with Capo Ferro,” he queried. She nodded.
“Naturally, yes. But I find that Thibault cancels out Capo Ferro, don’t you?” With that she unleashed a rather impressive offense, nearly landing a blow to his shoulder.
“Unless,” he panted, “the enemy has studied his Agrippa.” He took a running leap off the rock they were fighting on, executed a somersault, and landed on the terrain below. “Which I have! You are wonderful!”
His opponent smiled beatifically. “Thank you! I’ve worked hard to become so.” She leaped off the rock and they engaged swords again. Kurt was impressed that the diva was managing to hold off two blades with her one. “I have to admit that you are better than I am.”
She wasn’t even modest when she replied. “Well, that’s hardly surprising. But then why are you smiling?”
Kurt was indeed grinning. “Because I know something you don’t know.” He replied in a sing-song voice.
“And what is that?” It seemed she had him boxed in. Kurt whispered conspiratorially at her. “I am not left-handed.” He switched the arms he was leading his blows with and went on the offense. She was having a hard time adjusting to the brunt of the attacks coming from his other hand, considering she was fighting with only her left arm.
“You are amazing, as much as it loathes me to admit it.” She panted with exertion.
“I ought to be, after six years.” Kurt had her pinned down over a long drop.
“There’s something I really do need to inform you about.”
“Do tell,” he allowed magnanimously.
“I’m not-left handed either.” And before he could collect his senses, she had kicked him backwards, switched sword arms, and unleashed a lightning offense that ended with her knocking his swords away. He leaped and swung from a rocky beam, landing near his blades. She tossed her own sword in the air, leaped and swung from the same beam, executing a tuck and a roll before landing. Her sword just fell into her waiting hand.”
Kurt was in awe. “Who are you?”
“No one of consequence,” she smiled as she continued to move closer.
“I must know.”
A shrug was all he got. “Well, then you must steel yourself for disappointment.”
He accepted this easily enough. “Okay.”
They engaged one other again, until the masked woman landed a blow on both of his forearms and forced him to drop his swords. Realizing defeat, Kurt kneeled. “Kill me quickly,” he requested. He would be brave. Courage.
But the woman shook her head. “I would as soon destroy my rather impressive musical program collection as kill an artist like yourself. However, since I cannot have you following me either,” she whacked him over the head with the hilt of her sword. “Please understand, I do hold you in the highest respect.”
While unconscious, Kurt dreamed of performing “Happy Days are Here Again/Get Happy” with Barbra Streisand in front of a sold-out crowd.