This fan-fic takes place in the theatrical universes of Quentin Tarantino, uses characters created by him and using the theory that they are all in the same universe. Mr Tarantino owns all these characters, I’m just borrowing them for this and will cease & desist if need be…here’s hoping he reads it.
Also this story does help if you’re a fan but hopefully it will be accessible to all without too much hassle, * means there’s some notes at the end that’ll link up the movie references. Rated MA
Spanish Harlem, E116th St, 1972
“Whatever you’re sellin’, I ain’t buying?”
The elderly man in his sixties in a hat and overcoat who leant on his portable oxygen tank for support looked at the man in the doorway. He fumbled for his gas mask and took a deep breath.
“I haven’t got all day.” He huffed. The man was overweight, greying and balding, wearing a tracksuit that he possibly never got out of, but the face though slightly wrinkled was the same face.
“Mr Utivich?” said the old man through the mask.
The old man pulled down the gas mask and smiled “Do you know who I am?”
“Asides from some annoying old %$#@ interrupting my Saturday morning, no!”
The old man nodded “Allow me to refresh your memory.” And with that he drew a Walther P38 with a silencer on the end and pumped three shots into Utivich’s leg, sending him crashing to the floor. He began to yell when the old man crouched down and clamped a hand tightly on his throat as he stared deep into his eyes.
“I’ve been looking for you for quite some time, Little Man,” growled the old man as he pulled off his hat to reveal a nasty swastika scar upon his forehead. Utivich gasped in horror.
“Your masterpiece has returned.”
“Landa!” coughed Utivich.
“That’s a bingo! Now, where is Lieutenant Aldo Raine?”
L’Auberge Saint-Gabriel, Montreal, 1986
Hans Landa smiled as he pulled out his ridiculous pipe and began to pack it, his oxygen tank resting against his chair. “You need money. I have money.”
Bill brushed his eyebrow gently as he looked at the old Nazi in the hat sitting across the table. “I could just kill you and take your money.”
“You strike me more as a business man,” replied Hans “But that is an option you could take. Perhaps you hear this old man out before you and your…is that a goon?”
Bill looked to where Hans was pointing, “No, that is my brother Budd.”
“You need a bodyguard?” Hans looked at the man casually reading a Superman comic book standing nearby.
Bill smiled and motioned for the waitress “In my line of work you can never, never be too careful. Especially when dealing with people like you.”
The waitress came over and smiled politely “Monsieur’s?”
Bill went to speak but Hans sat up and leant forward “May I?” Bill waved his dining companion on. The old Nazi looked at her name badge “Bonjour Natalie.”
“Bonjour monsieur. ”
“Poly vous François?”
“Natalie; Mon ami et je voudrais deux de vos meilleurs chocolats chauds et peut-être une banane pour le singe.”*
Natalie chuckled as she looked at Budd, wrote the order down and shuffled away. Hans looked at Bill “I would like to fund your…endeavours. I know a good thing when I see it.”
“I think I like my original plan better,” Bill picked up a butterknife and slowly twisted it in his hands in a subtle yet menacing way, nodding slightly to his brother. The smile evaporated from Landa’s face as he put down the pipe.
“Do you like games Bill?”
“That is a shame,” the old Nazi dropped a grenade onto the table “I, on the other hand, enjoy them immensely. At my age especially.”
Bill’s eyes narrowed at the green pineapple spinning in the centre of the table. Budd stopped in his tracks. Hans dangled the firing pin like a child who'd just pulled the wings off a fly.
“Five seconds Bill.”
Time seemed to drag as the grenade spun as Bill looked at the old Nazi as he counted down in German.
Hans calmly grabbed the grenade and inserted the pin. Budd reached for his gun but Bill shook his head. “Terms?”
“I will help fund your little assassination venture idea. From this I get a mere two percent,” Hans rolled the now inert grenade across the table to Bill “I will have no say in how or what you do, but I do require three free kills because I am an old man and though my head and heart scream revenge my bones are not up to the task any more. Ah Natalie, distribution exceptionnelle mon cher. Merci!”**
Natalie placed the drinks and a banana on a plate in front of them and quickly left. Bill raised an eyebrow at the yellow fruit as he took his hot chocolate.
“And what shall I do with the grenade?”
“A gift, like the banana,” said Hans blowing the steam off his cup as he reached for the sugar bowl “I have dozens at my home. Grenades not bananas.”
Bill looked at the hot chocolate suspiciously before putting it back on the saucer. “You are quite a dangerous person Mr Landa.”
“As are you Bill.” Hans smiled, a dollop of froth on his nose “So?”
Bill stood up, pulled the pin on the grenade and dropped the explosive into Hans’ lap “We’ll see.”
St Luke’s Medical Centre, Ward 9, 1993
Hans Landa lay in bed looking at the ceiling. His leg was broken after some idiot had run a red light and ploughed into the side of his bronze Pinto.** There was noise in the hall and soon a patient was wheeled in next to him.
“This is a private room.” Hans stated indignantly.
“Not anymore old timer,” said the male nurse as he parked the bed. “Besides, you look like you could use the company.”
“What is your name?” Hans spat, losing his temper which he found he was doing more and more as the years rolled on.
The nurse flicked his name badge “Name’s Buck. And I don’t give a $%#!”**
Buck gave the old man the finger before leaving. Hans pressed the buzzer repeatedly for attention but nobody came. Hans groaned in frustration when his eyes caught sight of the chart left on the side of patient’s bed.
Hans’ eyes widened as he whispered “The Bear Jew!”*
“WHAT?” yelled Buck as he stood in the door glaring at the old man.
“Nothing,” Hans lay back on his bed slyly smiling to himself. “Nothing at all.”
To be continued…
*Smithson Utivich was one of the Basterds and watched the swastika get carved into Colonel Landa’s forehead (Inglorious Basterds)
*My friend and I would like two of your finest hot chocolates and perhaps a banana for the monkey (English to French translation via google)
**Exceptional timing my dear. Thank you (English to French translation via google)
*The car accident from Pulp Fiction. Butch runs over Marcellus and a bronze car clips the back of Butch’s car (Pulp Fiction)
** Buck is the nurse from Kill Bill (Kill Bill Vol 1)
*Lee Donowitz is a film producer who was shot badly in True Romance. His father was Sgt Donny Donowitz aka The Bear Jew from Inglorious Basterds (True Romance & Inglorious Basterds)