Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
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Whatever Gets You Through The NightChapter 12 free porn video
“Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner. (Time, time, time for another peaceful war.)
Norway’s bravest son. (But time stands still for Roland ‘til he evens up the score.)
They can still see his headless body stalking through the night,
in the muzzle-flash of Roland’s Thompson Gun.
In the muzzle-flash of Roland’s Thompson Gun.”
-Warren Zevon, “Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner”
Note: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Events back in December are still having repercussions in my life and I’m in the process of dealing with them. Previously discussed issues have been running rampant, and it’s become necessary to remove stressors wherever I can. I’m not getting paid for this, so two that are 100% within my power to deal with are self-imposed deadlines and self-imposed page counts.
But we ain’t been slack, Captain Walker. Every night, we does The Tell. The last couple of chapters and this one have been a bit short even for my tastes. They’ve just ended where I felt they needed to, like this one. The story’s being written and it’s going to keep being written. Ultimately, though, I’m NOT getting paid and never really promised weekly updates, so I’m not going to worry about it. I will say that a good part of Chapter 13 is already done, because I started Luc & Ramirez’s scene, then realized that it was going to be similar enough to this one that it, too, should get its own chapter, so they’ll be the focus of the next one.
“I shoulda known you’d have one of these for Troy.” Nigel Mander said to Contessa Helena de San Finzione as he held open the passenger door of the 1965 Aston-Martin DB-V he’d selected from the garage. “Proper color and everything. Surprised it ain’t the real one.”
“The museum won’t part with the original,” Helen explained once he’d gotten in the driver’s seat. I’ve tried everything but crime and The Thing because I know Troy would just return it if I got it those ways. One of those ‘how you got it DOES matter, Helen’ people. Yes, he prefers to drive this or the Esprit when he’s in town. The Bentley’s an even bigger gas-guzzler. I’m surprised you picked this over Bessie.” She gestured to the 3rd Doctor’s Edwardian roadster, right between the 1976 Lotus Esprit S1 and the 1967 Lotus Seven.
“I’ll wanna try out Bessie too before I leave. But yeah, he’s got a point: How do ya NOT choose the Goldfinger Car?” Mander said as they pulled out of the garage and to the castle gate. “So, here’s a question for Your Countessness; since she knows all about movies now. And all I could tell ya is that the true winners in ‘Batman v Superman’ were Thomas & Martha Wayne for getting’ shot right at the beginning and not havin’ to sit through the rest of Zack Snyder’s ‘vision.’”
Helen hmmed agreement.
“Wouldn’t say I know all about them.” Helen replied, activating the cigarette lighter and getting one out of her black Prada Arcade bag. “Commercials aren’t quite the same thing and I’ve done a couple cameos, but for the most part, my job’s Executive Producing. It’s like being a Producer but simultaneously more vital AND a bigger pain in the ass for the artists.”
“The movie’s taking place here in the 1940s. And it were between the Nazis and San Finzione. So, why’re so many Americans working on it? I know you’ve got a bunch working at the studio; which brings up a related question: How do you get an entire movie studio to pack up and move to another country?”
“Well, you buy it first.” Helen replied, rolling down the window to breathe her smoke out and away from Mander. “Then you build a new lot here and, if you don’t know shit about movies, offer incentives for the ones who do to relocate to San Finzione and keep their jobs for more money in OUR society and economy rather than Los Angeles’.”
“Ok, that makes sense,” Mander said, taking it in. “What about the ones who can’t or just don’t wanna pack up their lives and move to another country?”
“They’re given severance and if they want to apply at another Società Finzione business, their info stays on file with a note about how they parted with us on good terms. It’s hard to both screen everyone who takes the offer AND not leave the others out in the cold. But you try anyway because it’s just fucking human. I won’t deny I needed Troy’s help figuring it out. Scott was at the second rung of middle-management. High enough to get the offer; low enough not to meet personally or do more of a background check than we would for any work visa. Same reason we can’t just drive to the studio and I command anyone else involved to step forward: Even if the others came to help me, we still couldn’t do it to the entire studio. Too many people to do all at once and too many to do in groups without raising suspicion.”
Mander snorted at that.
“That’s gotta be Hell for a closet Nazi,” Mander responded. “Going around all day, hating everyone who’s not like you and wishin’ you could get away from ‘em all. Then you get an offer to move to Fuckin’ San Finzione! Better money, it goes farther, ya get to live in Super Vegas But Classier! All that and, best of all, your American understanding of the world tells you that Europe’s all white folk like yerself? Everything you ever hoped for! So, you jump on it, sell the car, sell the house, move your life here. Then when ya land, expecting Whiteopia, ya find out that outside America, even people of other colors get more holiday time a year then you’ve ever had and can afford to take vacations! And ya need to keep a tighter lid on yer hate than ya ever did in The States?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Helen mmm-hmmed. “Wade would only get good and properly racist when he didn’t have to worry about anyone kicking his ass for it. Other stuff, but not racist. Except that big bit right at the end, there.” Helen blew smoke out the window and continued. “I don’t think he’d have gone far enough to ‘join ze party.’ Too many rules and there’s probably dues to pay. That would’ve cut into drinking money.” She took a longer drag to clear him from her mind. “Back to your earlier question; yes. We had a number of recent American transplants and are expecting more once FinTech’s ready. To address the Zack Snyder thing, I haven’t forgiven him for the constant mispronunciation of ‘Leonidas’ in ‘300.’ That ‘i’ makes an ‘e’ sound in Greek. Yes, it’s a transliteration, it’s a BAD one! We can ask Troilus’ cousin Leonidas about it! Did you even fucking TALK to a Greek before you began filming?”
“That ‘fiddle with the camera speed’ thing was cool back in ‘300;’ but ok, what OTHER tricks ya got, Snyder? I mean, he isn’t BAD; ‘Dawn of the Dead’ and ‘Watchmen’ were cool, he just ain’t what you’d call GOOD, either.”
“OK,” Helen said, taking another puff. “The guy ain’t murdered either of our parents. He’s not a hack, just not a good fit for us. Having a lot of big names on your movies makes you money. Being the one who discovers the new talent and gives them their shot, though? That’s legitimately profitable AND satisfying. I can get Jason Statham to make a cameo. In more ways than one. Fact, we’re still hoping to get him to be one of the three OSS agents we had to write into the story so Americans would go see it. For at least half the cast, though, this is their first big break. The leads are all unknown. Gino Giovanni, Tad Chase; even Larry Compton, the new director, is making their debut.”
“Tad Chase.” Mander chewed on it. “Ok, no way that’s not made up! You gotta go to four different stores to find a name like that.”
“That’s Finnywood for you,” Helen said, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray. Troy knew that it was too cool a car for Helen to not also want to drive and accepted that Helen smoking in it was a Law of the Universe. “Ok, that was just the first thing that popped into my head. Società Finzione’s Traditional Method of Naming Stuff be damned; I don’t CARE that we only got it to cover up The Thing! I WILL take us to war before allowing our movie industry to be called Finnywood!”
By the time they made it down La Collina, people were going back to work from the midday break, the multiple detours that needed to be set up, and the still-smoking wreckage of the tank that was being carefully hauled out of the intersection made for unusually high traffic. La Contessa had already told the Prefect to put every available officer out there looking for Dietz and his men, so no police escort was available, and traffic was moving slowly.
“Thanks to Your Countessness,” Mander said as he popped the cigarette lighter out and handed it to Helen. “I live on an island. If I need to go to a city and get something, I’ve got a couple boats or a helicopter for options. Why is it that when I need to drive Your Countessness somewhere, THAT’S when I get stuck in traffic?”
Helen lit her cigarette and returned the lighter.
“You weren’t the driver in Uongo, so we can’t count that one. The first time was in Seattle and now we’re here. Guess it’s kind of my fault for only bringing you to countries where I sorta-kinda want the general public to like me.”
“Speaking of whom, it seems unwise to go out into that general public with someone out gunnin’ for ya on the loose.”
Helen snort-laughed at that as she’d been inhaling and had to cough for a second before responding.
“Do you think I’d ever go ANYWHERE if ‘someone’s out to kill me’ was enough reason to stay home? Even when I stay in the castle, I get fuckers with knives jumping me out of the tour group or assholes trying to kill Maria with a tank. Dietz can take a fuckin’ number. My tracker’s active and Ultimados have been shadowing us since we left the castle. He wants to play Hide & Seek, but he’s in MY yard, and Simon Says we’re playing Bloody Knuckles.”
“Igazi kept guns on Her Princessness to get ya to play ball. Whyte kept his distance, had that helmet thing and the deaf mercs, and threatened yer mates. Dietz’s figured out the ‘make it personal’ part. We don’t know if he knows enough about you to worry about that Thing ya do but acting through others and makin’ ‘em take cyanide rather than talk to ya is an effective way around it.”
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