FAN FICTION - FINAL

Fan Fiction Topic: Pulp Fiction with elements from The Condemned movie

Setting: Story starts when Vincent Vega takes a much needed trip to Amsterdam.

Disclaimer: The ending is cheesy, I know. I couldn't figure out a way to cut it off 'cause it was getting a bit long. Lol

I’ll never leave you. It's been you. It'll always be you.

Clouds of smoke fill the coffee shop so much so, that hardly anyone is visible anymore. Vincent Vega gets up from his booth and unsteadily makes his way to the doorway. There, he opens the door and the fresh, untainted air fills his lungs. In an instant, his eyes snap open. The words of his forbidden love still ringing in his ears.

“My God, what the hell is in that shit man?” Vincent asks Jules.

Jules Winnfield. The smooth, jheri-curled black man. Almost a stereo-type of a ‘70’s African American.

Vincent and Jules have been partners since they entered the industry. It had been 6 years since their last holiday and they were making sure to make every moment count. Even if that did mean endless nights baked out their brains, isn’t that what Amsterdam is for?

“I don’t know man, but this shit is freakin’ me out,” said Jules. “Let’s go get summin’ to eat, I’m starved.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s go here,” Vince pointed out a huge, rustic looking restaurant. Bordewijk’s. “I want steak.”

“Hey, did I mention, you know in Franc-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Damn, I don’t know how many times you need to tell that story, Vega.” Jules interrupted.

“Oh. Wai- What?” Vega looked at Jules confused.

“Man, forget that. Let’s eat.”

They sit at a near-by window seat. Looking around they noticed a number of people that didn’t quite seem to fit in with rustic atmosphere. Vince noticed, but decided he was just being paranoid.

“So, what happened between you and Mia?” Jules asked.

Mia Wallace. Wife of the mob king pin Marcellus Wallace. A man you definitely do not want to cross. Marcellus, who threw a man from a fourth-floor balcony for giving his wife a foot massage. The man whose wife he was screwing.

“I don’t know. She says she’s gonna leave him, that she’d do anything for me, but we’ll see,” he laughed half-heartedly. He would never tell Jules how much he actually cared for her.

“That’s some dangerous fuckin’ fire you’re messing ‘round with. Ain’t no way that can end well, you know that right? She’ll never leave Marcellus for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever man. Now shut up and let’s order.”

The figures ascended towards Vince and Jules.

“Damn, I’m hungry. What you gon’ get? I’m feelin’ a nice T-bone steak and maybe a side o— Oh shit.”

“Excuse me, are you—“

The two professional assassins get up so fast the waiter walking over doesn’t have time to notice, before they start exchanging gunfire with the suited men. They manage to flip a table for cover before the shooting subsides for a while.

“What the fuck is going on?! Who the fuck are those guys?! ” Vega screams.

“Vince Vega?” A deep, intimidating voice calls out from beyond the table guard.

“Huh? Who are they? Did you recognise any of ‘em, Jay?” Vega whispers to his partner.

“Tall, afro looking guy. Think he works for Joy,” he responded.

“Joy… Wait, Rudy’s Joy? Well, why the fuck is he shooting as us then?”

“How would I know? They’re calling you’re name aren’t they? Just see what they want.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m really keen to get my head blown off.” He snapped back.

“Whaddya want?” he called out across the room.

All of a sudden, darkness fell upon the whole room.

* * *

Vincent Vega awoke to the clickety-clack of heels pacing up and down on the hard, concrete surface.

Where the fuck am I? He wondered, as he looked around at the dully lit room. Suddenly remembering the incident at Bordewijk’s he started to panic slightly. The room was large, covered in dust and looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Squinting around the room, Vega decided to look for his partner.

“Jay… Jay? You in here, man?” he whispered to no response. Vega got up off the cold, concrete floor and quickly fell again as a piercing pain entered his right foot. What the hell? Not realising his left bare foot was sporting an open gash.

“Arrgghhh!” he screamed as the realisation as well as the pain sunk in.

In the darkness of the room a voice called out.

“Hey, keep your fucking voice down.”

“Wait. What? Who’s there? Where the fuck am I?” he yelled back.

“I said, keep your voice down, dammit,” the voice responded as he moved closer. Under the dim lights a face appeared. One he would surely recognise.

“Butch?” he asked. “Butch Coolidge? Holy shit man, what the hell are you doing here?”

Butch’s face became clearer, which wasn’t a good thing. It looked as if his left eye had been gauged out and blood stained his cheeks. His face was covered in badly healed wounds. Not quite the picture he once was as the handsome boxing champion.

Just then, the clickety-clack of heels started to get closer. And the big dungeon-like door swung open.

A tall, slender woman stood in the doorway, with the light shining in behind her making it hard to see her face. Two large men walked in from behind.

“Vega, you’re up.” Her voice sounded cold and sent a shiver down his spine. Something not easily done.

The two men grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the room. Vince, being curious didn’t put up a fight.

As they walked along, Vince noticed other rooms, albeit concealed ones while he pondered how many others were in the same predicament as he. They suddenly came to a stop while the woman unlocked a maze of security devices.

What the hell is this place?

The woman retreated back as the door opened and with one shove Vega was pushed out.

“Take this, you’ll need it.” The woman smirked as she spoke in the same chilling tone and threw him a semi-automatic hand gun.

Vega looked out and all he saw was green. Huge, thick trees covering every square inch he could see.

“LET THE GAMES BEGIN!” shrieked a voice over intercom.

Game? What game? He contemplated, but only for a fraction of a second as a bullet narrowly missed his ear. Or so he thought. Vega’s ear started to burn and he quickly felt it to make sure it was intact. Luckily, the bullet had only grazed it.

Without thinking, he pointed his gun in the direction where the bullet came from and ran to find some sort of protection. He hid behind one of the many tree trunks hoping he could find some clue as to what the hell he was doing.

“Don’t move, motherfucker.” A voice from behind declared.

Vince put his hands up in surrender and dropped the gun in his left hand.

“Turn around. Slowly.” As he turned his pulse raced faster and faster.

“Jules!”

“Vega?!”

“What the fuckin’ hell is going on here?” Vega questioned.

“I don’t know man, I woke up and they shoved me out here with this piece-of-shit gun. But I guess it’s better than nothin’.” He replied. “Come on, we gotta get movin’ before someone else comes.”

“Someone else? How many people are in this godforsaken forest?”

“I don’t know, but they all seem to be out for the kill. I’ve already taken out three but don’t know how many more there are.”

Suddenly, “WINNFIELD. VEGA. JANSEN. You are the last remaining players. Remember, this is a fight to the DEATH and only one man can leave this forest ALIVE.” The intercom cackled.

No way, no way in hell this is happening right now. Vince and Jules looked at each other in disbelief. They both didn’t want it to happen, but with the years of experience they had, they knew there was only one way out. Even if they weren’t sure where out meant.

Footsteps over breaking twigs became louder and closer. Vega grabbed his gun and flew to the right of Jules and fired. A yelp came out from the woods and he knew he had hit his target. They ran up to see a man in tattered clothing, scarred almost like Butch.

“This must be Jansen. This means…” Vega turned around to face the barrel of the “piece-of-shit gun” held by his own partner.

“I’m sorry man, but this is just how it’s gonna go down. I ain’t dying for no-one.”

BANG.

A gunshot fired. Vince closed his eyes and braced himself for the inevitable death that was coming.

Wow, this ain’t so bad. His thoughts of his own death flooded in.

“Baby? “ Mia?

Just then he opened his eyes and saw not the face of God. But for Vega, it was close enough.

“Baby, get up! We gotta get movin’,”

“Mia? MIA! What are you doing here?!”

“No time, let’s go before they get to us.”

He looked around and saw Jules, lying stiff with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. At that moment the blades of a helicopter got louder. Within seconds a troop of men, much like the ones who escorted him out, came rushing through the thick forestry. Vince and Mia quickly climbed aboard with only seconds to spare as the men started shooting.

“Man, what a vacation, huh?” Vega chuckled. “Why'd you come here? Marcellus would flip if he knew”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Mia answered.

The words still ringing in his ears as clearly as the day she spoke them.

* * *

“Ma’am, what should we do about the escapee?” One of the henchmen asked.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be back.” She retorted in the unchanged cold tone.