Title: Divine Goddamn Intervention
Author:
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kanedax Pairing: #32 Roland Deschain (Dark Tower) / Vincent Vega (Pulp Fiction)
Rating: R for violence and more swearing than a battleship crew on shore leave.
Disclaimer: For the
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ithurtsmybrain Pairing Challenge. I don't own Roland Deschain, Vincent Vega, Eddie Dean, Susannah Dean, Jake Chambers, Jules Winnfield, Stephen King, Quentin Tarantino, or the Dark Tower itself. Although owning the nexus of all realities would be pretty damn sweet.
My body should probably be conserving as much water as possible, Roland thought as he sprinkled the forest.
But as Cuthbert used to say, sometimes it’s easier to carry a tapped barrel.
As Roland Deschain tucked himself back into his trousers with his uninjured hand, his highly trained ears were able to pick up the whispered words of his ka-tet in the nearby clearing.
Eddie and Susannah Dean were both up to their usual discussion: Eddie telling Susannah about all of the things from his time (the Eighties, he had called them) that had not existed where (or when, Roland corrected himself) she had lived.
“There were these toys,” Eddie was saying, “That the kids were all over. I don’t remember what they were called exactly, but they were cars, or planes, or whatever, and they turned into robots.”
“Really?” Jake Chambers, the youngest of Roland’s ka-tet, said. “We didn’t have anything like that. Only that stupid robot from Lost In Space.”
“Yeah, it was really brilliant, actually,” Eddie continued. “One of them actually turned into a gun, too. About the same size as this one- Shit!”
Roland heard a small thump in the dirt.
“It!” Oy barked joyfully.
Idiot, Roland thought as he turned to return to the group. The man just doesn’t know how to take care of a weapon.
Before he could take a step, however, Roland realized that something new had appeared in the woods. Turning to his left, he found a door hinged on nothing. It was just like the doors he had seen on the beach, only this one was marked with three numbers:
666
Peculiar, Roland thought as he approached, his senses tuned to any potential danger.
He turned to look to his ka-tet.
I will open it, he thought, Just to see what is on the other side. If it is important, I will call them and we can decide what to do.
He turned the knob, and the door swung open.
The first thing he saw through the doorway was a pair of hands grasping the edges of a black box. In the middle was a handle, and on each side were golden latches, with three numbered dials lined next to each clasp.
The thumbs of both hands reached to these dials, and spun them until the numbers lined up 666, the same as on the door. The latches released, and the box was swung open, revealing a golden, glowing –
Almost unconsciously, Roland stepped towards the light and through the door.
It’s beautiful.
What the fuck? a voice replied.
Damn, Roland thought, I must have spoken aloud.
“Vincent?” a voice asked.
The eyes that Roland shared with this “Vincent” tore themselves away from the box. Roland quickly took in the scene: he was standing in a small, colorfully painted room. Across the counter from him stood a dark man with curly black hair, wearing a black coat and tie. Roland could see a bulge in the side of his waist, indicating that he was armed.
Sitting at a cheap table, facing the dark man, was a pale young man, no more than a boy. A second boy lay down on a long bed-chair on the left side of Roland’s vision, and a third boy was standing in the far corner, near a door.
“Are we happy?” the man in black asked.
Answer him, Roland said.
What the fuck is going on? Vincent asked.
Just answer him, Roland repeated.
“Yeah,” Vincent replied, “We happy.”
He breathed out, flapping his lips. I’m gonna need another shot pretty soon, Vincent Vega thought. I’m starting to hear things.
Roland pulled back, cursing himself for revealing his presence this early. Fortunately, he already felt a familiarity with this body.
It’s like stepping into Eddie, he thought. He’s thinking about taking a shot, just like Eddie with his HEROIN addiction. It’s not as strong of a need as Eddie felt, but it’s there.
Thankfully, he’s just playing me off as a bad reaction. I should still be able to step forward if I need to.
“Look,” the boy at the table stumbled. “I’m sorry, uh, I—I didn’t get your name. I got yours,” he pointed towards Roland, “Vincent, right? But I never got yours.” He turned back to the man in black.
“My name’s Pitt,” the man in black responded, “And you ain’t talking your way out of this shit.”
Why am I here? Roland thought as the boy at the table continued to ramble. Is it for the box?
It certainly isn’t for any of these people. I can see it in the man’s eyes. He’s just toying with these children, but he knows that none of them are leaving this room alive.
These aren’t Gunslingers, Roland muttered, these are mercenaries. Big Coffin Hunters.
Big Coffin Hunters, Vincent replied dreamily, I like the sound of that shit. I’ll have to tell that one to Jules, he might get a kick out of that one.
Roland cursed again. Well, he thought, might as well go with it. This man is so stupid he’d probably leave his gun outside of the privy.
Who is Jules? Roland asked.
Just then, in the middle of the boy’s conversation, the man in black pulled out his weapon and shot the boy on the bed/chair in the chest.
That’s Jules, Vincent said coolly as Roland recoiled in disgust.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jules said sarcastically, “Did I break your concentration?”
Rage boiled up inside Roland. Seeing such a blatant killing of the innocent, purely to prove a point… These men were no better than Eldred Jonas and his men.
I don’t know if Vincent is armed, Roland cursed to himself. If I step forward to take the box, I might leave myself to Jules.
Hey, calm down about Jules, Vincent responded. He’s good fuckin’ people, you know? It’s just his job, he takes enjoyment out of it.
Jules had continued his merciless on the boy in the chair, shooting him in the shoulder.
“Does he look like a bitch?” he yelled.
Why don’t you men just kill them and get it over with? Roland thought angrily. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?
Well, yeah, Vincent said. But this is so much cooler.
Hey, he continued, do you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in France?
Roland tried to focus as much as he could on the situation. This world had become madness. The boy was screaming in pain from the bullet that had entered his shoulder. The head Roland was sharing was asking him about popkins.
And the man in black had begun spouting verse the likes of which Roland had not heard since his meeting with Sylvia Pittston in the village of Tull.
“And I will strike down upon thee, with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.
“And you will know my name is the Lord,” Jules screamed. “When I lay my vengeance upon thee!”
Vincent pulled his gun from his jacket and fired into the boy’s back as Jules fired into his chest.
“I’m fucked, I’m fucked, I’m fucked,” the boy by the door muttered, crouched into a fetal position.
“Is he a friend of yours?” Vincent asked Jules as he lowered his weapon. As he stepped forward, Roland thought he heard some breathing coming from the next room.
Be vigilant, Vincent, Roland said quietly. As much as he wished to see these two men dead, he wished for it to happen after he had already done his job.
“Huh?” Jules replied. “Oh, Vincent, Marvin. Marvin, Vincent.”
“Better tell him to shut the fuck up,” Vincent replied, “He’s getting on my nerves.”
“Marvin, Marvin!” Jules said. Roland heard the breathing in the next room increase, along with some movement.
“I’d shut the fuck up if I was you.”
Vincent! Roland yelled, Someone’s coming!
Yeah, whatever, Vincent chuckled.
Roland stepped forward as the door flew open. Out stepped another boy, in a long sleeved pink shirt. He wielded a gun nearly as large as the one Roland carried on the other side. Roland quickly judged where the boy was aiming, and took a slight step the right.
“Die, you motherfuckers!” the boy yelled, blindly shooting the firearm. “Die!”
Roland felt the bullets pass by his ears, never in any danger of penetrating himself or Jules.
Watch, Roland told Vincent, This is how you do it. No torture, no games.
He raised Vincent’s gun. At the same moment Jules raised his own gun, and the two fired together into the boy, who had run out of ammo.
Just do the job.
Roland stepped back before Jules could see the change in Vincent. The two looked around at each other, both realizing they were unharmed.
Vincent shook his head, and walked towards Marvin.
“Why didn’t you tell us someone was in the bathroom?” he asked, crouching down. “Slip your mind? You forget that someone was in there with a goddamn hand-cannon?”
I did tell you, you idiot, Roland replied for Marvin. You were just too stupid to figure it out.
If the box is truly important, Roland thought, the door will be there when we need it.
Right now, being with this fool will only get me killed.
Roland briefly stepped forward, then stepped back and turned towards the door, where the forest awaited.
He turned around, and found the door had disappeared.
“This was divine intervention,” Jules muttered, staring at the bullet holes in the wall. “You know what divine intervention is?”
Fuck, Vincent thought, I just had goddamn Clint Eastwood talking to me, and Jules is asking about divine intervention.
“I think so.”
“That means that God came down from Heaven and stopped the bullets.”
“That’s right,” Jules answered, shaking his gun. “That’s exactly what it means. God came down from Heaven and stopped these motherfucking bullets.”
Vincent stood up. As he did so, he realized that something was missing. He looked down at his hands. “Where’s my goddamn gun?”
Jules turned away from the bulletholes. “Don’t do that, don’t fucking blow this shit… What do you mean, “Where’s my goddamn gun?”
Vincent looked around frantically. “My motherfucking gun, it’s gone!” He turned to Mr. Hand-Cannon. “I shot him, went to talk to Marvin, never put the fucker down, but now it’s gone!”
Jules stared at the bulletholes and turned back to Vince. “Divine intervention,” he muttered. He reached into the back of his pants and pulled out his other gun.
“Here,” he said, handing it to Vincent, “you’d better be telling the fucking truth, I don’t want to see any goddamn police with any goddamn fingerprints on any goddamn guns.”
Vincent took Jules gun. “Swear to fuckin’ God, man.”
“Be careful with that one,” Jules said as Vincent grabbed the briefcase. “That one’s got a hair trigger. Don’t want you to be blowing Marvin’s head off, you dig?”
“Ah, fuck,” Eddie said as Roland entered the clearing. “We got a problem, big man.”
He held up the gun that had just dropped to the ground. “The gun slipped when I was cleaning it, and the pin bent. I don’t know if I can get it back as good as it was before.”
“The gun didn’t slip, Eddie, brother of Henry,” Roland replied. “You dropped it when you were talking about toys.” He held out Vincent Vega’s gun.
“Be more careful with this one, for your father’s sake. Killing is a serious business.”
Eddie and Susannah stared at the gun, then looked, dumbfounded, as Roland sat across the clearing from them.
“Where did you get--?” Susannah asked.
Sometimes the Dark Tower provides, Roland thought.
“Divine intervention,” he replied, turning to clean his gun.
