Character Issues

  This post is dedicated to my mother for suggesting a very unexpected place for a character that I had no idea what to do with. Thank you. 

 

Writer Lady sits in the Big Writing Chair at her desk in High Command and reads the scene she is currently working on.

Francesca knew that something was different as she walked through The Archives' darkened Lower Stacks. She could feel the heat of the intruder’s presence well before she saw his/her face. She noticed it as she passed one of the darker aisles. Burnt out bulbs above a row of records that were rarely accessed. When a bulb burned out in The Lower Stacks maintenance was never in much of a hurry to replace them.

He made no movement but she could see that something was obstructing her view of a section of Post WWII missions. He was...Francesca hesitated...taking a whiff of the air in front of the darkened aisle. Yes it was definitely a ‘he.’ A professional. Obviously.

Only a professional would know about this place. Only one of the best would have made it this far without alerting Security. Spotting the next darkened aisle, two rows up and on her right, she quickened her step and began mentally counting. One...two...three...four...five.

The intruder stopped her mid-step just as she had anticipated.

“You took Vinnie Donati.” He said.

Francesca looked the intruder up and down. A smile crossed her lips. “I knew that it was you. You’ve always had this thing about lurking in shadows.”

“It’s called using the cover that is available without losing your tactical advantage.”

She shook her head as she continued walking. “I did not take him.”

“I watched as he was brought in here.”

“If you had waited another ten minutes you could have watched as he was carried back out.”

The man sunk back into the shadows as a door at the opposite end of the building opened. A tall, stocky man with a boxer’s nose stood in the doorway. “Hey! Hey! What did you do to Vinnie?”

Francesca slowly turned around. “We had a discussion about manners. He disagreed. I taught him a lesson.”

“A lesson is a pair of busted kneecaps. This man is bleeding all over the place, having trouble breathing, he’s in and out of consciousness.”

“Your friend must have done something very bad to be dealt with so harshly.”

“Harshly? You mutilated his freaking tongue!”

Francesca looked at the stacks for a moment then back to her addressee. “Vincent Donati has no respect for the books and records in these archives. He has even less for women. I simply altered his body so people will immediately recognize him for the snake that he is.”

Writer Lady navigates the cursor half way down the page, moves it a bit further, deletes a line of text and replaces it with two new ones. Smiling to herself, she moves the cursor to the bottom of the page and continues typing.

“That does not work for me.” A voice says in her ear.

“What doesn’t work for you?” Writer Lady asks without turning her head.

A fingertip painted a bright blood red points to the text on the screen in front of her. “You moved my knife from his throat to his stomach. I would never do that.” The voice continues.

“If you slash his throat blood is going fly all over the place. I’m/You’re...when you change the location of the stab wound you are protecting the records in The Archives. It shows the readers how much value the information holds for you.”

The fingertip moved down the page. “He called me that. Do you think that I wouldn’t kill a man for calling me that? You really need to move the knife back to his throat. I’ve killed men for a lot less.” You said so yourself.” The finger moves down along the page. “Right there.”

“The story was better when the knife was at his throat.” Writer Lady agrees as she proceeds to remove the two new sentences and replace them with the first one.

“I am always right about these things.”

Writer Lady turns and looks the at the owner of the voice. “Why do you have to be so controlling?”

“You wrote me that way. Being in control keeps me alive in a world where few survive.”

Writer Lady shakes her head and turns back to the screen in front of her. “She uses my own words against me. Why do I even bother?” She asks as she rubs her temples.

“Because you have talent. Loads of it.” Carp’s voice answers. “You remind me of a young me. Before I became, Me.” The assassin-in-training crosses High Command stopping behind the Big Writing Chair. He reads over her shoulder. “Very nice. Although Francesca’s dialogue has a familiar ring to it. Who does it remind me of?” Carp thinks for a minute and snaps his fingers. “That adjudicator woman in John Wick.”

“That is because we trained together.” A voice answers.

Carp looks in the direction of the response.

A leggy woman with long dark blonde ombre hair sits in a chair on the far side of Writer Lady’s desk. She is wearing a long sleeved white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and a pair of heels that Carp would be dreaming about later.

“Well hello.” Carp says, his voice deepening.

The woman looks at Carp. “Hello.”

“Who do we have here?” He asks.

“Someone.” Writer Lady answers meekly.

“Someone?”

“Someone nobody else knows about?”

“Do we want to keep it that way?” Carp asks.

“It would be nice for the time being.” Writer Lady answers.

“Too bad, there’s no way that’s gonna happen.”

“Carp Fisher retired romantic fantasy novelist and assassin-in-training.” Carp says extending a hand.

Francesca looks at the outstretched hand and shakes it. “My name is Francesca. I am, The Librarian.”

“It looks like you’re a new character and a bit of a bad ass. What is it that you do?”

“I am The Librarian. I am in charge of all the records of the Hi…”

Writer Lady coughs.

“I am an archivist and an assassin. One of the best.”

Carp raises an eyebrow and looks at Writer Lady. “Another assassin, isn’t that interesting? How many is that now. Three?”

“Two, you’re still in training and Tinkletoes, he specializes in other worldly beings. Francesca is just your good old fashioned assassin.”

“So Librarian what is your specialty, long range shooting?”

Francesca shakes her head. “No nothing so indirect. I prefer blades and other sharp objects.” She rises from her seat, crossing the distance in two swift moves. Carp pales as she leans in and whispers, “Long range shooting is for cowards. I like to move in close, see life leaving my target’s body.” She returns to her chair.

Carp grins, “Aren’t you a fun date.”