Different

Chapter One: What’s Your Name, Angel?

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Chapter Summery: Basically took the entire scene from the movie, but I changed some things. Matilda meets face to face with Norman Stansfield. Again, in the story, Matilda is 19, not 12 like in the movie.

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Matilda could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her breathing sounded loud and seemed to echo off the stone walls of the Men’s Room and she prayed it was just in her mind. She took a deep breath, walking closer to the last stall. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she gripped the pizza box in her hands a bit tighter, trying to calm her nerves. Reaching the last stall, she moved to put down the box, but spun around when the bathroom door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself not to scream or run as Norman Stansfield walked towards her from where he had hidden behind the door. He walked towards her, not saying a word until he reached the middle sink and turned to look into the mirror. He sniffed and fixed his suit jacket a bit.

“Special delivery, huh?” he asked, remembering how she had snuck in, thinking he hadn’t noticed. “Now let me guess,” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small tin. He shook it next to his ear. “Chinese.” he said as he opened the tin and took out a pill. He looked towards her. “Thai, maybe.” He snapped the small tin closed, looking back into the mirror and held the pill near his mouth. “I’ve got it…Italian food.”

He placed the pill between his teeth and twisted a bit, looking away from her. She heard a soft snap of him breaking the pill open and he let out a strangled gasp. Shuddering, he turned and gave her a dazed look.

“What’s your name, angel?” he asked with a small smile.

“Matilda.” she whispered.

“Matilda.” he repeated with a content look on his face.

He turned back to the sink and shook his head a bit before turning it on and splashing his face with water. Turning it off, he shook his head a bit more violently and huffed. He stayed quiet as he walked over to the towel dispenser and rolled out a paper towel, drying his hands and face, then throwing it off to the side.

“Matilda, I want you to put the sack on the floor.” he said, pointing at her and trying to focus his eyes. He waited until she put it down, then pulled out his gun. “Good. And now I want you to tell me everything you know about Italian food.” he said walking towards her. “And don’t forget the name of the chef who fixed it for me.”

“Nobody sent me. I do business for myself.” she said staring up at him, as he was at least a foot taller than her.

He let out a small gasp and watched her. “So this is something….personal…is it?” he asked kindly. When she didn’t reply, he sniffed. “What filthy piece of…shit, did I do now?”

“You killed my family.” she said, staring him in the eyes.

He let out an almost inaudible ‘oh’ and ran a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry.” he blinked a bit, looking at her then away, and back at her as if he were thinking. He leaned towards her, taking a step closer. “And you want to join them.”

Matilda sniffed and shook her head lightly. “No.” she said quietly, meeting his stare.

“It’s always the same thing.” he took a breath and reached to gently brush her hair. “It’s when you start to become really afraid of death…that you learn to appreciate life. Do you…like life, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

“Yes.” Matilda whispered.

Stansfield brushed her hair with his hand, bringing it down to brush his fingers lightly over her cheek, bottom lip and chin. “That’s good.” he said quietly, running his fingers over her neck as well. “Because I take no pleasure…in taking life…if its from a person who doesn’t care about it.”

Matilda began to shake a bit when he lifted his gun, running the barrel up her neck, making her lift her chin and tilt her head a bit. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, afraid she may not be able to speak. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to shoot her. He lowered his gun and cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“What is it, angel?” he asked, his voice still calm and gentle. “What were you going to say?”

Matilda licked her lips and opened her eyes. She was caught off guard a bit when she realized he had leaned over a bit to be face to face with her. She took a deep breath, swallowing her fear. “I…I didn’t come here to kill you.” she whispered and she wondered if he had even heard her at all.

He watched her, running his thumb over her lip again. He glanced at her lips. “Then why…are you here?”

“To say ‘thank you.’”

He looked back to her eyes. “Why, sweetheart? I killed your family.” he said softly. “Why thank me?”

“Because now I don’t have to.”

He tilted his head to the side a bit and watched her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, looked down, knowing he was going to kill her. He continued to watch her before uncocking his gun. He licked his lips, ready to say something when the bathroom door burst open. Matilda opened her eyes as a younger man with dreadlocks came in, stuttering. Stansfield’s cheek twitched and his eyes grew dark. He spun around.

“What. What! I’m busy!” he said, motioning towards Matilda, the tenderness in his voice gone and replaced with annoyance.

Matilda let out a breath, she hadn’t known she was holding. She tried to focus on what the two men where talking about but all she could hear was her heart beating and blood rushing through her veins. Stansfield let out a slight gasp that broke her out of her trance-like state. He shuddered and looked over at her before looking at the gun in his hand.

“Death is…whimsical today.” he whispered, sadness in his eyes.

He looked back over at her before starting towards the other man. Stopping to stand beside him, he turned to look at Matilda, raising his gun. He stared at her a moment, noticing she the didn’t flinch or close her eyes this time. He faltered for a bit, thrown off by her lack of fear, before pointing it at her again. He licked his lips, his eyes still on her, before turning to aim the gun lazily at the man with the dreadlocks, who backed against the sinks, staring at the gun in Stansfield’s hand.

“Blood.” he said looking at his gun and then at the man. “Did you hear me?” he said, his voice rising.

The man with the dreadlocks looked at Stansfield. “Yeah, man, I hear you, man. Just…chill out man.” he said quietly.

“Would you take her up to my office?” he asked, his voice now calm again, as the man looked back down at the gun.

“Alright, yeah.” the man said nervously.

Stansfield nodded a bit before walking out of the bathroom.