Smells Like Teen Spirit
by: Link Worshiper

(x) X (x)

Game 43
Goodnight Moon

(x) X (x)

Quatre blinked at the dingy gloom, shivering slightly as he tried to readjust himself into a more comfortable position on the hard, little cot in the corner of the claustrophobic cell. The local police station had a small hall with three penetary cells lining each wall, which was where Quatre had been put the second he’d been brought in very early that morning. He had been there for almost seven hours by this point, and he had long ago stopped trying to think about when he’d be allowed to leave, or if he would be allowed to leave at all.

He should have known that when Relena had made the decision to call 9-1-1 that things wouldn’t work out so well for him, given that he had just slaughtered a man, nevermind what a lowlife that man was to begin with. He supposed he couldn’t really blame Relena for reacting as she did to the situation, and on the up-side, at least Meilan had been rushed straight to the emergency room before her condition could get any worse.

Still, that didn’t help Quatre very much. He felt very alone, very cold, and very hungry. (The standard-issue bowl of cereal and cup of orange juice he’d recieved for breakfast hadn’t done much to settle his stomach.)

A loud, clattering sound echoed down the short hall, which Quatre soon realized to be the opening of the door leading into it. Hoping that perhaps it would be some police officer escorting a friend to free him, or at least somoene to visit, he jumped to his feet and toddled over to the wall of iron bars that seperated him from the hallway. With a straining roll of his large, aquamarine eyes, he tried to get a look at who was coming down the hall, his excited heart falling when he saw it was only an officer escorting in a new cell mate. Banging the iron barrier with the heel of his hand and not paying any attention to the throbbing ache it caused, Quatre turned around and moodily slouched back to the cot.

Quatre watched with a dejected face as the police officer, dressed in a crisp, brown uniform, his badge shining dully on his breast in the low, flickering light, escorted a tall, rather old-looking man with sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt down to the cell opposite Quatre’s. Hands moving with jerky motions, the officer unlocked the cell, glared at the smug old man and silently bid him to get in with the frown on his face. The old man strolled into the cell as if he was boarding a train and grinned stupidly at the policeman as he slammed the iron bars closed, sealing him away. Even as the officer walked away, the old man smiled, though the minute the hall door slammed, the old man’s grin twisted into a sneer as he flipped the long-gone officer off.

“Bastard,”the old man grumbled as he strode over to the small cot in his cell and flung himself on it, causing the little structure’s rusting joints to moan loudly. Turning his head all about as he took in his new surroundings, it didn’t take the inquisitive man long to notice Quatre in the cell across the way. “Howdy, stranger,” he called, waving. “Looks like we’ll be company for each other while we rot in here. I’m Howard! Nice to meet’cha!”

Quatre smiled for the first time in what seemed an extremely long time. “You certainly like to talk, Howard,” he said with a tilt of his head, thinking of Duo.

Howard adjusted his sunglasses, and Quatre could tell that he was being scrutinized intently by the old man. “That bother you or something, kid?” he asked, sounding a little cold all of the sudden.

“Oh no, not at all! It just reminds me of a friend, that’s all!” Quatre rushed to explain, waving his hands in front of his face. Flustered, he quickly added, “I’m Quatre, by the way. Quatre....” He almost added the name ‘Winner’, but then trailed off, reminding himself that he didn’t consider himself a part of that family anymore. “Just Quatre.”

Howard regarded him silently for a few long seconds, and then picked up his mile-a-minute speech without missing a beat. “Well then, ‘Just Quatre’, it looks like we’re stuck together, so we might as well make the best of it, ya know?”

Smiling softly at Howard’s obvious good spirits, Quatre replied, “I know.”

“Of course you do!” Howard laughed heartily. “So, what’re you in for? They nabbed me for breaking and entering.”

The smile washed from Quatre’s face almost immediately, not sure of how to answer this question. Lying and avoiding any immediate confrontation seemed like the smartest thing to do, but at the same time, Quatre’s conscious could never rest if he did lie, especially when he had a friend like Duo. “I... I don’t remember, exactly,” he opted to tell a little white lie, mixing both truth and fiction.

Even on the other side of the room and hidden behind sunglasses, Quatre could tell that Howard was eyeing him skeptically. “You look kinda young to be a permanent jailbird, kid,” he said, his bushy, grey eyebrows furrowing under his sunglasses.

“I’m not. I’ve only been here since this morning,” Quatre told him, realizing that there was little he could invent that would sound plausible. Apparently this Howard wasn’t as foolish as his appearance.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Howard said, nodding at this answer. “This isn’t a place they keep real offenders very long,” he said, his head still bobbing up and down in agreement with what he was saying. Then he laughed again. “But that doesn’t really concern either of us, now does it?”

Quatre laughed nervously, hoping that Howard didn’t notice how much he’d just paled. “Yeah, it doesn’t,” he shrugged. While he had decided that lying wasn’t the smartest thing to do, he figured it would be wise not to let the whole truth out so easily either. Let him be on a need-to-know basis, Quatre reasoned.

Feeling gently with his Sense to see if Howard was the least bit suspicious of this answer, Quatre found himself greeted with a surprise. Instead of merely feeling an aura of emotion, as he had for his entire life whenever he employed the power of his Sense, his brain prickled with a peculiar new sensation, and before he knew it, he was met with Howard’s current stream of thought, which was currently on monsters, metal claws and pickles. Strange old guy, Quatre mused to himself.

“You from around here, kid?” Howard asked, leaning back on his hands and balancing one ankle on top of his other knee. Quatre was amused to note the tacky flip-flops hanging off his toes.

“Yes,” Quatre replied with a nod of his head. He paused for a moment, and then asked, “What about you?”

Howard snorted and responded, gesturing to his very beach-ready attire. “Of course I’m from around here! Ain’t it obvious!?”

Personally, Quatre thought that the loud, Hawaiian shirt, the flip-flops and the sunglasses just made Howard look like a stereotypical tourist, and he told him so.

“A tourist?” Howard scoffed with a nonchalant toss of his hand. “Please, kid. Believe me, I am anything but a tourist. I’ve been living in this town so damn long, I know it better than my mother’s back yard.”

“Yeah, I’ve been living here forever too,” Quatre said with a little smile. “Place is kind of boring after a while, though. I sort of wish there was more to it than the old sleepy town by the sea persona, you know?”

“You know it,” Howard laughed, bouncing to his feet, and starting to pace around his cell in circles, swinging his long arms back and forth as he moved. For a person of his age, he was rather spry and had quite a bit of energy. Stopping in front of the barred baricade at the mouth of his cell, Howard leaned on it and said, “Makes you want to just spice life up no matter how you can. Sort of why I ended up here, you know?”

Quatre cocked his head. Though he kind of knew what Howard was trying to say, such things were exactly what he often got angry at Duo for, which probably made sense, as Quatre couldn’t say he exactly related.

“You look confused, kid,” Howard observed keenly. Shaking his head, he said, “You must be a first-timer, huh? I thought you seemed to cute to be in a joint like this anyway.”

Sheepishly, Quatre nodded.

Hardly awknowledging the movement of Quatre’s head, Howard launched onwards with his rambling monologue. “Yeah, I can’t say I’m really familiar with being in the slammer either. I hardly ever get caught doing anything, so I pretty much just do what I want to,” he said, sounding frighteningly like Duo. “I bet you’re probably wondering how an old geezer like me can manage that, but I’ll tell you, kid, you can take a guy outta the streets, but you can’t take the streets outta the guy. Sometimes old habits just get ingrained into your hands, you know? And they die damn hard!” He laughed loudly, his voice echoing and bouncing up and down the empty hall.

Quirking an amused eyebrow, Quatre leaned back on his hands, tucking one foot up on the cot. “And just what do you mean by that?” he asked, wondering just how Duo-like Howard’s response would be.

Howard snorted, tossing his head and causing the thick tufts of silver hair poking out around his head to bounce about. “Some asshole moved in next door to me a year or so ago, and the guy has been making a complete mess of the neighbourhood ever since,” Howard began, his voice icy and oozing with sarcasm. “Well, anyways, to cut a long story short, I took it upon myself to make sure his life was just as hellish.” He let out a cackle that was just short of maniacal.

“What do you mean by that?” Quatre asked with a little trepidation.

Plucking the sunglasses off his nose, Howard rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual stuff. Sneaking in at night once in a while to steal a couple things he used for his work--he’s one of those Ph.D. types. Slashed the tires of his car and stole a bunch of parts a couple times, and on one occasion, I managed to fuck up the wiring in his house so his electricity was going nuts for almost a week.”

“And that’s why you’re here now?” Quatre asked, grinning at the tale of Howard’s exploits at his evil neighbour’s house.

“Aw, no. That’s all recycled kid’s stuff I used to do when I was a teenaged terror,” Howard scoffed with another roll of his eyes as he replaced his sunglasses. “I got hauled in for credit card fraud. Good, old Dr. J was funding my auto repair shop for a good two months before they nabbed me, I’m proud to say, though.”

Dr. J? Quatre thought, alarms ringing in his head as Howard spoke. Where have I heard that before? Suddenly not paying attention to Howard, Quatre rested his chin on his raised knee and stared pensively forward, trying to place the name. Or is this bad feeling just some kind of reaction from my Sense?

“Hey, kid?” Howard called from across the hall, curious at Quatre’s sudden thoughtfulness. “Hey, you like white as a sheet! You okay?”

Howard’s voice echoed faintly in the back of Quatre’s zoned out brain, causing him to snap sharply back to reality. Jumping to his feet with one unnaturally chipper bound, Quatre quickly paced towards the bars again and mimiced Howard’s leaning position against them. “I’m fine,” he insisted, though it sounded pretty false even to Quatre’s own ears. “So, uh, what were you saying about an auto shop? That friend I said kind of reminds me of you loves cars too.”

Howard was obviously a little put on edge by Quatre’s odd behaviour, but he chose to blithely ignore it and entertain Quatre’s comment. “Is that so? Well, I could always use a helping hand,” he said. “What’s his name?”

Quatre saw no harm in telling him, so he did. “Duo Maxwell.”

The sound of Howard’s sunglasses hitting the concrete floor was far louder than it should have been, and the size of Howard’s widened, shocked eyes was a little surreal. “Duo Maxwell? Are you sure?” Howard asked, his jaw flapping much like a gasping fish.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Quatre responded, finding Howard’s reaction a little strange. “I’ve known him for a long time. Really stubborn, brash and sneaky boy with big purple eyes and a yard of brown hair down his back? That would be Duo.”

Howard stooped to pick up his sunglasses, nodding absently. “Yeah, that would be him,” he murmured as he slid the dark glasses back onto his nose. Still crouched on the floor, Howard lifted his head up and said, “Not to mean any offense, but just how did a kid like Duo end up getting to know a kid like you? No offense, of course,” he said again, “but you just seem a little too... clean-cut for a guy like Duo.”

Thinking immediately of Heero, Quatre said, “You’d be awfully surprised how much Duo’s changed recently.”

Quickly slipping back into the guise of casual conversation, Howard stood up and let out another one of his braying laughs. “Don’t tell me he’s given up the black!”

“Not a chance, though you might catch him in blue jeans and flannels every now and then,” Quatre said, continuing the chat as he made the mental decision to give his Sense’s new powers a little test drive.

Concentrating on the part of his brain that was mutated with the Sense, Quatre found the auras he usually felt when using it laced with images and thoughts. Howard’s aura, strong due to its proximity, was currently flashing with images of a boy who could be none other than Duo in his younger years. From what Quatre was able to glean, it seemed that Howard had been the one to teach Duo about mechanics and cars. Satisfied that this new ability was here to stay, Quatre found himself wondering if he would be able to manipulate his Sense into probing into other parts of other people’s minds to see things that were perhaps there, but hidden from main streams of thought. It was worth investigating.

“I met Duo for the first time when he was hardly thirteen or so,” Howard was saying. “The kid was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel, but I liked him, and I really wanted to help him out....”

Not even thinking about it, Quatre automatically said, “So that’s why you taught him about machines?”

Even with his sunglasses on, Quatre could tell Howard was looking at him strangely. “Well, yeah, I did, but... how’d you know that? Did Duo tell you?” Howard shrugged, his lips twisted in a strange expression of confusion. “I mean, I just never took Duo for one to be slack-jawed about his particular history. There’s a lot of things not even I know about him, and I was practically the next thing he had to a dad!”

“For someone as loud as Duo is, he sure has a lot of secrets, I’ll tell you that,” Quatre agreed with a nod. A strange whirl of dizziness overtook his head, and he slipped down to the floor, wedging himself between one concrete wall and the prison bars. He supposed that he had pushed himself a little too hard with his Sense and figured that any more experimenting with it would have to wait until he’d had a little rest. Quatre remembered when he’d first begun to discover his mutant abilities and how physically drained he would be after using them in those early stages. He would have to take this new level shift a little bit at a time with baby steps.

“Ah, but don’t we all,” Howard said wisely as his sunglasses slipped down his nose again. Crossing his arms, Howard eyed Quatre with a pointed glint that the blonde couldn’t quite place. “I’m sure even a sweet-mannered kid like you has some secrets of his own.”

Smiling weakly, Quatre answered, “Maybe just a few.”

“Mm,” Howard hummed in understanding. “Don’t we all, kid. Don’t we all.”

(x) X (x)

Over the years, Dr. J had become used to living among shadows. Once a well-respected player in the scientific field relating to mutants, he had fallen from grace when his four colleagues had all voted to exempt him from their research team due to a difference in views. Since then, J had resorted to private research wherein he made the rules and obeyed no one. Though there were certain perks to working with a team, he found that not having to agree about everything took a load off his shoulders.

But as of late, research was becoming scarcer and scarcer, the new rights and laws being passed in favour of mutants putting severe dampers on what was and wasn’t allowed in the lab. Ever a resourceful man, J could get around these restrictions most of the time, but there was no denying it was becoming more difficult. This bothered a man like Dr. J, the sort of person who felt that science held the answers to everything, and that restricting his research was akin to slow strangulation. Especially when there was still so much to learn in the ways of mutants, things that could greatly advance the general human population if only he were allowed to work without restraint. This was the moral debate that had split J from his former team, as he was the only one out of the five who saw chance where the others saw risk.

So he left Seattle, where he had been working with the others, and set out to begin his own way. Since settling in his current California residence, J had found himself very much at home, able to work as he pleased without some supervisor breathing down his neck constantly. With no family to worry about any more, his son dead from the plague and no one else to look after but himself, J had made the change easily and felt the only thing that would make everything perfect would be the addition of some live subjects to his experimentation. There was so much in the mutant research field that was only theory and speculation and J was firm in his opinion that the genetic mysteries of mutants could only be unraveled with lab specimens. (Even his mere reference to mutants this way had gotten his old partners riled. They said that J’s desires stretched to far and overstepped the basic codes of human and animal rights.)

A knock on the backdoor pealed through J’s small townhouse, ringing above the soft Spanish guitar rippling over the speakers of J’s small, wind-up phonograph, one of the few frivolous things the doctor owned, archaic as it was. J, who had been in the middle of recording the notes from his last bit of work, got up with a stern expression on his face. Had the knock been coming from the front door, he would have been absolutely livid at being interrupted, but he had gotten used to his backdoor visitors and was accustomed to their random visits.

Leaning heavily on his cane, he limped through the kitchen to the door, his entire, old body permanently crippled from an old lab accident gone seriously wrong. Just to be safe, J parted the plastic blinds hanging over the back door’s window and, seeing a familiar face, pulled back the dead bolts and wrenched the creaking door open. “Better be good, Mueller,” he said with a scowl.

Mueller, for his part, looked very rumpled, his clothes dirtier and messier than usual and his eyes rimmed with dark shadows. Without any preamble, he said, “You hear the news on the radio yet, Doc?”

Sunlight glinted through the open door and illuminated J’s narrowed eyes behind his dark, round spectacles. “I don’t listen to the radio,” he said curtly with a jerk of his head, a silent indication for Mueller to come inside so he could close the door. J was not a fan of the outside world. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed that White Fang had a supply stash in his garden shed out back if they hadn’t been so noisy on one particular occassion.

“What the fuck you not listenin’ to the radio for!?” Mueller exploded upon hearing J’s retort, sounding very hysterical. He went on ranting, and was still going on even as J forced him down into one of the plastic chairs at the kitchen table with a downward thrust of one metal-infused hand. The repairs he had undergone after that one disasterous experiment had been anything but pretty.

“Calm down and tell me what you’re so rabid about, you felt the urge to come banging on my door at this hour?” J said shortly, mentally grumbling about Mueller’s presence instead of his leader’s. J had a tentative relationship at best with most of White Fang, finding the only truly worthwhile member of their ranks to be Solo. Solo was quick, sly and smart, three traits J held in very high esteem.

Mueller sat, regaining his breath, though his shoulders were still heaving violently from gasping in so much air so quickly. “Solo’s dead!” he gasped, the words still sounding surreal to his own ears as he said them. “Some mutant psycho went insane and ripped ‘im apart!”

“Excuse me?” J whirled on Mueller, suddenly interested, though he had to admit that losing Solo was quite a pity. For a young person, he had shown a surprising amount of potential.

“Solo’s dead!” Mueller repeated with more confidence now that he’d had more time to regulate his breath.

“I heard that!” J snapped impatiently. “I meant the other part! The part about the mutant!”

It really should have been obvious to Mueller that was what J had been talking about, granted that Mueller wasn’t exactly the most gifted person in the brains department. “This mutant went on a rampage and slashed Solo’s gut right out!” Mueller said quickly, practically hyperventilating. Needless to say, Solo’s death was taking its wicked toll on White Fang.

“What did this mutant look like?” asked J curiously. “Do you even know what kind of mutant he was?”

“Radio said he was some sorta psychic or something,” siad Mueller. “Alex can read and write a little, and he said that his picture’s plastered on the front page of the newspaper too! Did you read the paper?”

“I don’t read the paper,” said J flatly, in a no-nonsense tone.

“The fuck you not readin’ the paper for!?” Mueller exploded, nearly launching into a similar rave as before.

“I like to be on a need-to-know basis,” J replied smoothly, his claw-like fingers tightening around the rounded top of his cane. “Now tell me about this mutant? Was he dark-haired? Asian, perhaps?”

“No way. That sounds more like Maxwell’s bitch,” Mueller said with a roll of his eyes, thinking like had one up on the old man. Had Mueller been a bit sharper, he might have caught onto the fact that that was who J was referring to in the first place. “The kid in the paper’s a pale, blond, little thing with big eyes.”

“Interesting,” J murmred. “Speaking of this Maxwell, have you seen him lately? I would still be interested, you know,” said J, musing a tangent thought out loud.

“Naw, haven’t seen even the tail-end of his braid in almost two weeks, though I bet he had something to do with old Solo getting done in like that,” Mueller spat bitterly.

Stroking his pointed gotee, J looked pensive. “So, where is this blonde, large-eyed psychic? Why don’t we sit down and have something to eat while you tell me everything you know about Solo’s death. Then, perhaps, we can think of something to do about it.” He was highly interested in this mutant. From the mere sound of it, it would appear that this mutant had undergone a Zero shift, but the physical discription wasn’t the one he’d been expecting to hear. It was a lead definitely worth looking into.

(x) X (x)

The door of the little hospital room cracked open, and a young woman poked her head inside, a white nurse’s cap pinned atop her bob of dark, reddish hair. “Hey, morning visiting hours have been over since ten, and you’e already been allowed to stay way longer than that,” she announced dutifully. “Since you’re not next of kin, you really need to go soon.” With that message said, the door clicked shut again.

“Well, you heard the pretty lady. Maybe it is about time we started heading back,” Duo said to Heero with a shrug. They were both sitting side-by-side on the floor, their backs up against the side of Meilan’s bed, where they had been ever since Wufei had left.

“Maybe,” Heero said noncommittally with a roll of his shoulders. With the way his right leg and arm were tangled with Duo’s left, Heero was in no specific hurry to rush out of there, way too comfortable to move.

“Do you think it’ll be okay to leave Meilan without Wufei here?” Duo asked, jumping to another topic as his mind jettisoned hither-thither. “What if ‘Fei wakes up and gets mad ‘cause we’re gone or if something happened because we left?”

“Duo, I think you’re worrying a little too much,” Heero said reasonably, his slim hand moving to cover Duo’s. “We are simply wasting time waiting for Meilan to wake up, since it will obviously be some time before she does.”

Heero’s hand tightened slightly over Duo’s as he said this, which communicated volumes more to Duo than what his mere words were. Duo wasn’t quite sure when he started becoming so adept at reading the meanings of Heero’s every little bodily gesture, but through that, he had come to realize that Heero restrained a lot of emotion from his words. It helped make Duo become even more aware of how raw Heero had made himself to Duo, especially in comparison to how Heero interacted with others.

“Well, I guess you’re right. Let’s pack it up,” Duo sighed, reluctantly unwinding himself from Heero and twisting about somewhat so he could see behind him. His nose was just about level with the mattress, his eyes just able to peek over and see Meilan’s prone, blanket-wrapped body. “It’s okay, old girl, alright? You just sit tight and get better, you got it?” he said to her unconscious form, though the words were more of an assurance to himself than anything.

Heero was in the process of popping and loosening a series of tired joints after sitting on the floor for so long. Like a yawning kitten, he stretched and clamboured to his feet, silently offering a hand to Duo to help him do the same. “We’ll go home and see Trowa, eat something, and then try and go back to doing things normally, like yesterday.”

Duo smiled at Heero’s words, though his large, violet eyes inevitably shifting towards Meilan, which drew the corners of his mouth downwards. “Yesterday seems like it was another life, you know, ‘Ro?” Duo commented sadly, still fixated on Meilan. “I mean, it feels like some sick breed of dream that you just keep thinking you’ll snap out of any second.”

Heero’s strong arms slithered around Duo’s waist and held him tightly. “But yesterday,” he said softly, nuzzling Duo’s cheek warmly, “I didn’t have you.”

The smile flitted briefly across Duo’s lips again, but fell just as quickly as before when he said, “Yeah, but is having me worth losing someone else?”

Heero’s body tightened as he pressed Duo closer to himself, burrying his nose into the Duo’s angled jaw. “Don’t make me answer that a question like that,” he whispered so softly, Duo almost didn’t hear it. If Duo hadn’t known better, he might have thought that Heero was about to cry.

“Heero?” Duo said curiously as a hand slowly rose up and fell gingerly upon one of Heero’s shoulder blade. Peering sideways, out from beneath the longer clumps of wispy bangs that stuck out over his cheek and ear, Duo found himself staring at the thick flop of mahogany brown hair that fell over Heero’s head, surprised to see his other hand bedded in that soft, chocolate-coloured mess.

“Don’t make me choose between you and someone else, Duo,” Heero went on, his mumbling muffled by Duo’s shirt. “Because I can promise that you will always win.”

Duo blinked in shock, the only reaction he seemed capable of when the meaning of Heero’s statement finally sunk in. He didn’t even find himself being distracted by Meilan, and instead just folded Heero against his chest even tighter, inhaling deeply of Heero’s masculine scent like it was some sort of euphoric drug. He still smelled like vanilla and creme.

A simple movement of one arm was all the communication Duo needed from Heero to impart that it was time to go. Wordlessly, they walked to the door, their arms looped around each other protectively. Heero opened it, and they slipped through, Duo closing it quietly behind him with one final, sad glance at Meilan.

Stepping out into the hallway seemed like entering another world, the quiet nook of Meilan’s room melting away into the organized chaos of a hospital at work. Doctors and medics alike walked briskly up and down the hall, sometimes alone, sometimes together. Interns and nurses rushed about on their various errands, clipboards in hand or carrying trays of sterilized supplies. Both Heero and Duo found themselves gravitating even closer to each other in an effort not to be caught up in the swell.

“Things sure pick up around here, huh?” Duo commented to Heero as they dodged a group of hospital staff, which was rushing down the hall with a wheeled stretcher in tow.

Heero made a small noise of awknowledgement as they continued to weave through the hall towards the main lobby, where they had first come in. Entering the room, they found it much more crowded than it had been that morning, even though it apparently was no longer visiting hours. Both the nurses behind the front desks were busy, one talking to a sobbing couple and the other trying to explain to a young man in a tweed cap why he couldn’t go back and see a particular patient.

Even amid all the hubbub of the waiting room, with crying babies and the low hum of idle chatter, Duo found his head twisting around to watch the man in the tweed cap. “He’s way over-dressed for this kinda weather, you know?” he said to Heero, taking in the man’s long, brown trench coat and slacks. “Bet he’s just come to town to visit someone. Bastards won’t let him in either. That must suck.” By then, they were exiting the hospital through the sliding glass doors, and Duo left it at that.

(x) X (x)

a/n: Sorry it took me a bit longer to post, but here it is. Chapter title is some random old song I actually heard on the Kill Bill Vol. 2 soundtrack. Actually, the version on the soundtrack is probably a remake, so I don’t actually know who the original is by, if you can believe it. Still a cool song. Yay!