A Frying Pan Story

Chapter 1: A Frying Pan Induced Injury

Elijah

Groaning loudly he attempted to lift his throbbing head only to be pushed back down again by a wave of invisible nausea. Frantically searching round for a bucket he was disappointed to see none and instead resigned himself to vomiting all over the nearby floor. Before he could do so, a woman, previously unseen as she was lurking in the shadows, agitatedly ran forwards to shove a bowl under his chin. Only seconds later he emptied what appeared to be the entirety of his innards into the prettily decorated bowl.

'Ugh, I am no nurse mister, next time try swallowing it back down!' the mysterious woman cried as she unceremoniously poured the contents of his bowl down the toilet and flushed. 

Scoffing he bewilderedly replied, 'Of course, why didn't i think of that before? Anyways, I wouldn't have been throwing up if it weren't for you hitting me so incredibly hard! What did you even hit me with?

Rather sheepishly she muttered unintelligibly, 'A umnum pnum'.

'What!' Elijah shouted.

'A frying pan' she exclaimed louder this time, enough to induce a look of astonishment on his face. 

Of course, he thought to himself, I get stuck in a cabin with an absolute raving lunatic. And stuck he was, looking down he noticed his own hand cuffs attaching his wrist to a metal bed frame, oh the irony! 

Dismissing the ridiculousness of her choice of weapon he appraised the scantily furnished impromptu prison. A worn and tatty settee sat in the corner of the room, one would assume the only comfortable area in the room if it weren't for the huge, deadly spring emerging from the right-hand side cushion, its painful point shining as the sunlight flickered over it, almost winking at him. A small kitchenette was situated adjacent to the death sofa, the bare minimum including the infamous weapon which hung on a hook above the basic stove. Glaring at it slightly he saw the one-room house contained little else, except for the bed he was currently incarcerated with. Finally, his eyes landed upon the woman, the most intriguing element of his investigation. 

Her face, slightly marred with dirt and grime, was an attractive marvel to behold. Huge doe eyes the colour of lapis lazuli immediately drew the attention of any onlooker before their attention was grabbed once again by her perfectly sculpted lips. Her long locks framed her heart-shaped face, dirty blonde in colour. Before he could dwell further on the appearance of the stranger before him, she cleared her throat before gruffly interrupting the silence:

'Well, if you're done staring, i want to know who you are and why you're here, I'm sure you know the usual interrogation procedure so don't make me hurt you.'

Overcoming his initial shock he recovered the imperious facade he wore so well and condescendingly replied,

'Well darling, as you can see by my gun...' faltering slightly he looked down at his belt only to see an empty space in his halter where his gun evidently should be, 'well by now i presume you have taken ownership of it. I have come here to kill you, on the orders of someone very high up. Now, if you would just let me do so, i will leave your home in peace.'

'Of course, so you just think I'm going to let you shoot me then go? How idiotic do you think i am? She exclaimed, her voice rising. 'To think, i could have just shot you by now and saved myself the trouble of having an absolutely pointless conversation with a harebrained moron.'

'Now, now lets not be hasty,' He smirks aggravatingly, somehow relishing in his antagonisation of her, 'how do you know i don't have back up that won't come running to my aid upon hearing a gunshot?'

'Oh, i know, believe me. For starters, no-one in their right mind would team up with an absolute asshole like you. Secondly, i have a perimeter radar recording all heat signatures within a 10 mile radius so unless your back up is a bunch of warm-blooded rabbits, i would have to say you are all on your own.' She smugly responds, obviously delighting in his discomfort.

'Well I see we have reached some form of Mexican stand off' Elijah concedes.

'No thats where you would be wrong, for this to be a stand-off there would actually have to be some form of equality in the parties, an equal match, but i have clearly beaten you so...' she tapers off, grinning from ear to ear at her victory.

Downtrodden, Elijah realises his misfortune and accepts defeat with a mere nod of the head, awaiting her next move.

'Right then, now that you have finally shut up, ill ask you again, who are you?

'Elijah, the names Elijah darling.'