By Nick from Random Ramblings of a Demented Doorknob.

After winning Survivor and stabbing Suzanne Maretto in the face, Kyra was unfortunately sent to prison for her murderous deed. While in the joint, however, she heard a crazy rumor about this rogue assassin who had killed all of her ex-teammates in order to get to her boss and kill him, as well. Intrigued by the ruthlessness, Kyra knew she had to meet this woman, for she seemed dastardly enough to know where a person like Riddick could be.

So she researched and researched until she finally pinpointed a location on this lone assassin. Kyra then, quite easily, broke out of the pathetic excuse for a prison (she’d been confined to much, much worse) and made her way to where her research pointed her to.

Upon reaching said locale, a very small town in the middle of nowhere, Kyra easily found the woman, Beatrix Kiddo. The town looked like it had come out of a western movie, and it didn’t help that Beatrix was walking down the end of an old, dusty road when she found her.

“Beatrix Kiddo,” Kyra called out.

The woman turned.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I need to talk to you. I heard about what you did.”

Kyra had gotten her full attention now. Beatrix faced her fully, hand on the sword she always carried with her in paranoia.

“Who sent you?”

“Nobody. I’ve need to know if you’ve heard of a Richard B. Riddick.”

“Riddick? Never.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Are you lying to me?”

The two women stared at each other in a death glance. Then, for no apparent reason, they charged each other, Beatrix with her sword unsheathed. The blonde woman swiped with her sword, but Kyra easily dodged. Kyra then pulled out her vicious-looking dagger, taking a swipe at Beatrix, but missing. There was an animalistic glare in Kyra’s eyes. She knew exactly how to take this woman down easily: Left of the spine, fourth lumbar down, the abdominal aorta. The Sweet Spot, Kyra thought.

Kyra jumped, doing a spinning corkscrew in the air to slice at Beatrix with the blades in the backs of her boots, but Beatrix simply barred them with her Hanzo sword.

As Kyra landed, Beatrix jabbed with her sword, scratching Kyra’s arm, but it didn’t matter. Kyra had spun and jammed her dagger into the sweet spot. It was over before it had barely begun.

——————-

By Jason from Invasion of the B Movies.

The Bride aka Beatrix is relaxing in her apartment. It’s about time she got to relax. She’s been through a lot. So much that if it was all to be turned into a movie, it’d have to split into two parts. Beatrix goes to settle down with some tea and is about to watch an old Kung-Fu movie on TV when there’s a knock on the door.

Beatrix looks at it oddly and quietly goes and looks in the peephole. She saw a man, in his 20’s, with short black hair and glasses. He looked nervous. Realizing a nervous nerdy guy is no threat, she opened the door.

“Can I help you?” Beatrix asked.

“Uh, yeah. Hi. My name is Jason. And I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Well…you’re gonna find this hard to understand-”

“Try me.”

“Ok. I’ve been tasked with writing a short story about you.”

“Really? Come on in.”

Beatrix gave Jason room to walk in. He slips through the door and looks around.

“Nice place,” Jason said, still looking nervous.

“So what’s this story about?” Beatrix asked, closing the door behind her.

“Well, it’s a hypothetical story about what would happen if you fought some other women that kick ass.”

“I see. And you need what exactly?”

“Well, the person you’re suppose to be fighting, I have no clue who she is. So I thought maybe if we both watch this-” Jason pulls out a “Chronicles of Riddick” DVD “-together, then we’d find out who she is and if maybe you could beat her.”

Beatrix thought about it. She looked at the DVD and read the description. It was some sci-fi movie. She wasn’t a fan of sci-fi; action and kung-fu was more her thing. But if she was to help this geek out, she’d have to study her opponent.

“Alright. I’ll put it in.”

After two hours, Jason looks as if his eyes were going to melt.

“I forgot to mention I really don’t like Vin Diesel,” Jason said, rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t blame you. His voice is pretty monotonous and he sounds like he should be saying ‘Duh’ before he starts each sentence.”

“So what do you think?”

Before Beatrix could answer, her TV started leaking. Beatrix and Jason looked at it oddly. Soon the screen shattered and crawling from the broken screen was Kyra, the girl they were both studying. She lands on the rug with a THUD, then quickly gets up.

“Who’s talking crap about my movie?!” Kyra said.

“You broke my TV!” Beatrix bellowed.

“Oh boy!” Jason said, doing a good impression of Sam Beckett.

The two women circled each other.

“So, you didn’t like my movie, huh?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well, we’ll have to change your mind now, huh?”

And before she knew it, Kyra jumped over to Beatrix and slammed her on top of the head with both fists. Beatrix fell on her coffee table, breaking it. Kyra then started pounding on Beatrix, hitting her all over. Jason looked around and saw the infamous sword. He jumped up and grabbed it.

“Beatrix! Here!” Jason yelled as he threw the sword. It landed right in Beatrix’s hand and she did one *swish* and soon Kyra’s left arm was cut clean off. Kyra stood up, screaming. Beatrix jumped up onto her feet, holding the sword. Beatrix runs to Kyra, about to slash again when Kyra picks up her cut-off arm and uses it to hit the sword, knocking it out of her hand.

Kyra then slaps Beatrix silly with the dismembered arm, stunning her. Beatrix, stunned, grabs a couch cushion and hits Kyra with it, which makes her drop the arm. Beatrix then runs up to her and tackles her, and they fly backwards all the way to the window. Did I mention Beatrix’s apartment was on the 37th floor. 37????

Jason runs to the window, furiously taking notes. Before Beatrix and Kyra fell out of sight, he saw Beatrix punch Kyra over and over again until she was unconscious. Then Beatrix stood up on Kyra’s body and used it as some type of windboard while she plummets down to the ground.

Jason lost sight of Beatrix and Kyra. He backed away from the window when he heard something behind him. Jason slowly turned around and before he knew it, a big bald man wearing dark black goggles was standing behind him.

“Duh, you don’t like me, I hear?”

“Ohhh boy…”

By Nathan from Faux Nixon.

Asami, intrigued by the apparent gullibility of Americans after her recent trip to Texas, returns to the United States and this time visits Texas to find it a wasteland and finds herself meeting with a woman named Cherry who has survived whatever catastrophe has struck the state.

Asami is respectful and reserved in the Japanese fashion and earns Cherry’s trust. Eventually, she offers to take Cherry to Japan and offer her lodging until she can get on her feet there, away from all of the mess that is now Texas. Cherry gladly accepts and the two board a JAL flight to Tokyo, first class.

Upon arrival they take a taxi to Asami’s apartment (her victims are carefully hidden in sound-proofed trunks and other, assorted small, but effective devices, leaving outside observers completely ignorant of the horrible torture chamber which they have entered.

Cherry, calmed by the incredible kindness and graciousness of her hostess, calms herself with some tea and sits on the tatami mats which cover the floor of Asami’s apartment. Asami suggests they have some tea and Cherry, calmed by the consideration and care of her hostess, has built up enough trust to allow herself to consume some tea and so she gladly accepts.

Asami, as many may guess has a syringe of GHB hidden in her clothing, suspecting that her new guest may want to switch glasses to assuage whatever left over paranoia she has. She brings out and presents the tea and, just as Asami expected she would, asks for Asami’s cup of tea in exchange for the cup offered to her. Asami feigns slight offense, but acquiesces to the request and waits for an opportunity to pull out her syringe and squirt the GHB into the cup Cherry has accepted.

Unused to unsweetened tea, Cherry requests some sugar and Asami tells her it is in the kitchen on the counter. When Cherry leaves, Asami squirts the GHB into Cherry’s tea quickly and then uses the syringe to quickly stir it in (though since it’s colorless, odorless and tasteless, this may not even be necessary). Cherry returns and the two enjoy their tea until Cherry begins to feel tired and asks to be shown where she will sleep.

Asami brings her to her guest room, pulls out the traditional futon and bed linens and Cherry lies down and falls asleep.

Creeping into the room after the GHB has taken its effect, Asami injects Cherry with a strong sedative that is long-lasting and paralyzes her muscles, but leaves her nerve endings and consciousness in full awareness.

Asami uses the time with the GHB to restrain Cherry on a table with an elaborate series of ropes fashioned from barbed wire, which she tightens enough to leave ligature marks on Cherry. Cherry is now completely immobile and even if she somehow moves, it will only cause her greater pain by the barbed wire digging into her flesh.

Asami prepares her instruments and awaits Cherry’s awakening. After several hours this occurs and Cherry, confused and terrified, exclaims to Asami that there must be an intruder in the apartment and that she must help her!

Asami tells her in a soothing, but malevolent voice that there is no intruder; in fact, she has fallen into an elaborate trap and will now suffer what can only be described as death, literally by torture. “There will be no quick death for you,” she says, “and you will not simply be modified and stored like my slaves; instead I will simply torture you until you pass out from the pain, wait for you to awaken and repeat the process until you are dead.”

The first of the torture devices Asami brings removes the skin from Cherry’s feet, ankles and calves in what can only be described as a peeling and tearing fashion. Cherry screams in agony as the muscle, tendons and bone of her lower legs and feet is exposed to the air. Asami then brings out her belt sander and beginning with the bottoms of Cherry’s feet, begins to sand through the flesh of her feet, removing millimeter by millimeter the raw, exposed flesh until she
reaches Cherry’s knees.

Noting the blood loss, Asami brings in an IV filled with a blood type universally accepted by humans of all types and injects this while using a blowtorch every once in a while to seal off the bleeding areas and ensure not too much blood is lost that Cherry will die. Once the sanders reaches Cherry’s knees, she is long since passed out from the pain, so Asami bides her time and applies tourniquets to the portion of the leg above the knee to prevent any more loss of blood.

When Cherry awakens, Asami says she has always wanted to experiment with her tools in ways that would be too damaging or fatal to her slaves, so she will try them on Cherry instead.

She applies a water-based gelled lubricant to Cherry’s lips, nose and eyes and eyelids and tells her, “Do you know what happens when lye reacts with water?” The movie Fight Club long since engraining this into pop culture knowledge, Cherry is terrified beyond belief and begins praying for death.

Meanwhile, Asami applies enough lye to cover each of the gelled spots while wearing heavy gloves and the horror of chemical burns to some of the most moist and sensitive parts of Cherry’s body begins. Screaming in abject terror Cherry begins to resemble something from Tales from the Crypt or even the tar man from Return of Living Dead, lost without a nose or lips to cover her teeth, she looks like a living, breathing skull.

It is obvious when the lye reaction reaches the eyes and at this point the pain is so unbearable Cherry lets out her most fervent cry for help. The walls of the apartment being thoroughly sound-proofed, this accomplishes nothing and Cherry pours a liquid lye onto the eyeballs, waiting for them to burst open and cause a massive chemical burn which will drill through the eyes, their sockets, the nerves and into the brain matter. While this is happening she decides that she might as well begin getting rid of the evidence, so she douses Cherry with water and then applies vigorous amounts of powdered lye all over the body, which sticks to the water and begins to burn away the flesh.

Screaming and writhing as her eyeballs burst the plan goes into action, Cherry can’t help but wonder if her life would’ve been better off had she died in Texas. She fades on that memory as the lye covering her body produces an unimaginable pain and the lye in her eyes finally reaches into her brain causing her to fall unconscious and when it reaches the brain stem, dead.

Asami reviews her work and then raises the walls of the custom-built table to which Cherry is attached, adding waterproof and corrosion-resistant corners to provide a bathtub of sorts. She fills it with an acid and waits for the remains of this petulant Texan to dissolve. After that, Cherry’s body will be cast away by simply being flushed down the toilet and ending up at one of Tokyo’s many waste treatment plants where the workers think nothing of organic matter and lye flowing into their treatment pits.

Cherry is gone in life and body and Asami has claimed another victim in her sadistic adventures through the world of horror and pain the likes of which have not been seen since the Marquis de Sade’s ventures in France.

————–

Asami thought she had found her next perfect target…

Having grown bored with tending to malformed, tongueless troglodytes in potato sacks, she’d made the decision to take a vacation. Money wasn’t a problem, but boredom was, and America is nothing if not a cure for boredom. So off she went – first Seattle, then San Francisco, San Diego and so on, making her way south and east across the United States. Sure, there were killings here and there (someone’s gotta pay the bills, right?), but it had all grown so mundane.

Traversing across Texas, she was famished, and this was a hunger no vomit could cure. Stopping at a local, podunk truck stop, she found the man she just might have been looking for all these years. Short, dark-haired, troubled and taking nothing from no one, El Wray was, in many ways, just like her. In her broken English, she asked him to pass the hot sauce – after catching the glimmer in his eyes as he passed the Tabasco, they both knew that love was on the menu. The only problem? It was written in English. This proved a minor obstacle as they both soon dove headfirst into Rosetta Stone tapes all about the International Language…

Unfortunately, there was no translation for “another woman” in that language. As they rested after a rousing roll in the hay, El Wray searched for the right way to tell this pixie that his heart already belonged to another. As it turned out, that glimmer in Wray’s eye was just hot sauce.

Asami sat there, broken into a million pieces for the thousandth time. She was emotionally paralyzed, though she knew that that motionless feeling would soon be transferred to someone else. She let Wray leave…for now.

It didn’t take long for her to track him, or to ascertain to whom his heart belonged. A uni-legged stripper. Perfect – half the work was already done for Asami. She knew that the best way to inflict pain on Wray (before turning the screws to him) was to knock that stump-legged stripper down a few pegs.

Cherry was working at a lesbian burlesque bar these days, so Asami strolled in one day to pay a visit to her favorite dancer. Fortunately, having lots of money and speaking little was a winning combination for Asami, as this only made the dancers more curious and interested. Cherry wanted those Benjamins bad (machine gun legs tend to cause a lot of stump infections, leading to numerous doctor visits), so she did her best to draw Asami out of her shell while emptying her coin purse. She had the bartender bring them over some drinks –

Big mistake, and just the one Asami was waiting for. Going straight to her wheelhouse, she slipped a sedative into Cherry’s drink, and in no time had dragged her into a ladies’ room stall for some “aggressive counseling.” She first sliced off three of Cherry’s fingers and her nose. Then a breast. Flush. A couple toes here, an ear there. Flush. Just one problem – over the years, Cherry had built up an immunity to iocane powder. Pained as she was, she awoke and kicked the scrawny Asami clean off her, knocking her out in the process. In no shape to battle and fearful that Asami would wake, she tore out of the bar and headed for her car and home.

It was there that Wray saw what a monster Asami had turned Cherry into. However, where some might have seen a monster, El Wray only saw beauty and opportunity. As Cherry passed out, Wray tended to her wounds…

It was only when Cherry awoke that she realized the genius that was El Wray. Sure, she knew of his philandering ways, but only a brilliant mastermind could take a one-legged, no-nosed, one-eared, one-breasted, seven-fingered, eight-toed beast of a woman and turn her into a machine-gun legged, dagger-fingered, grenade-eared, dynamite-breasted, brass-knuckle-toed superkiller.

Asami didn’t stand a chance…