A/N: Warning - please be advised the following chapter contains graphic depictions of violence. If this isn't your cup of tea, please refrain from reading this. The premise of this chapter is Jaune's daughter pays a not-so-friendly visit to her grandmother. It is there where she makes her feelings about her father known to her.

Cold wouldn't be the best description of words to describe her grandmother. There wasn't much of a perilous hatred of the woman who had produced her Daddy Dearest. She really didn't have a disdain either. What woman wouldn't want their son to find happiness? Isn't that a role of a mother? Jennie Arc would like to clarify, if not redirect the questions that one must do for the love of a father. Jennie had full control over knowing what was best for her father. She applauded, found out pleasurable on what her grandmother had provided for her son. However, that was no longer her responsibility. Her role as a grandmother was to give provisions of grandchildren, allow the children to make their own decisions. Or in Jennie's case, 'stay the hell out of the way.'

Jennie's grandmother lived alone in a small cottage at the edge of town. With a bit of money that Jennie collected from her 'affairs,' she wanted to be certain that her grandmother had the latter years in luxury. Her role was fulfilled, set, planned. Nothing to deviate aside from the usual medical visits, more lately than usual. Her sweet, poor, pitiful grandmother, thinking that she still had a voice. As she mentioned to her grandmother on many occasions as she visited her on her sick bed, never involve herself in the affairs of her father. She had one job and still found it to be a struggle in what Jennie called it a simple task.

Coco pulled into the driveway of the cottage. Jennie's grandmother should be inside. Coco turned the car off, immediately pulling out a cigarette from her breast pocket. Jennie stared forward to the room where Jennie supplied the very woman the luxury over the years. If she knew that the interloping was to continue, she would have killed her off years ago. Nevertheless, she knew that her father's love for a mother was quite important. She saw to it as feasible, if not a pittance.

And rightfully so? Jennie can fulfill the role of not only being a doting daughter but a matriarchal influence as well.

"Don't get too comfortable, Coco." Her voice was curt, concise. Jennie removed the sucker and placed it on the dashboard. "This shouldn't take too long." Jennie reached into the glove compartment. Inside, she reached for a pair of black gloves. She slowly placed them on as she observed the cache of weaponry in its space. "These gloves don't match how I should really," she said. Coco wasn't sure if Jennie was talking to her or was talking to herself. The woman still found it amazing how much a teen can sport white knowing what was her true color with the cold stature she called a heart. However, she kept it to herself. As she mentioned, the last thing she wanted to do was to set the little woman off.

It wasn't the first time.

Coco didn't see but she knew Jennie had a weapon. The look in her eye depicted business. As she mentioned to Coco on the way to the home, it will be non-lethal. However, one must define the term, non-lethal. It didn't mean that her grandmother would be checking it to quick care for minor treatments.

Jennie closed the door. Coco, despite her feelings about the woman that has supplied, salaried, and provided for her these years, admired the teen. Such a walk she had. She walked with grace. If she didn't know any better, she would think that Jennie was heading for an interview to meet a husband or preparing to go to a tea ceremony. And not planning an attack on her own grandmother.

Nevertheless, Jennie plays her role very well. A delicate angel that bestowed herself as a person of Oum but does much freelancing under the hands of Satan.

Later….

She tapped her teacup with her spoon. She wanted to be certain that she received every single drop of her dimbula tea. It was imported, served from the freshest of herbs overseas. She gave it to her grandmother as a gift. An important reminder to the ash blonde of her Daddy Dearest to whenever she paid a visit to serve her the finest. Nothing domestic hit the lips of this silver-tongued teen.

From the background, she heard her grandmother's record player. It was playing smooth jazz. Elegance she called it as she recognized the "Yokada Yokada" from Andrew Hill. Such decadence to have smooth music and pleasant tea. Such accommodating to Jennie as she believed in the finer things.

She crossed her legs as she served herself another spot of tea. She flicked her fingers as she felt the residue of sugar on it. She sighed following the smooth elegant flavors bombarding her mouth. She felt satisfied, knowing that her grandmother did a decent job.

Unfortunately, prying into the business of a loved one's wasn't on the menu.

Nevertheless, this spread she saw on the table was unexpectant. She didn't think that she had visitors, let alone if the teen gave her permission to bring visitors. Especially any conniving, detrimental interlopers who wanted to have a certain silver band around their finger.

She won't allow it.

She took another spot of tea. She stared at the delicatessen in front of her. A nice spread. Assorted cheese, choice cuts. She even had wine. The teen clicked her tongue at the grandmother. To think that she was probably trying to celebrate a certain person's independence.

The Wellington Academy for Wayward Youth

The brochure sat well beside the table as Jennie took a gander. They think that imported palm trees, smiling kids, and a fancy mascot would convince parents to take their children there. It was a nice touch, Jennie thought. She had played it well.

But Jennie knew how to play better. With that being said, she knew how she wanted things to be settled with her grandmother.

"I must say, Grandmother. Quite a bit of trouble you put yourself into," she said as she took another spot of tea. "Yet again, I must say, I will have to give you praise for the effort. Even if it will be going without any sort of fruition."

She sat across from the table. Tied, bounded, and gagged the poor woman was in this current predicament. Jennie fixated her eyes as the splatters of crimson on her skirt didn't match the floral patterns that she was wearing this afternoon. The woman groaned as her dull eyes were staring at the devil.

"Now, Grandmother. What have I said about staying out of my family affairs. Um?" The latter was met with a strong hum. She crossed her legs once more. As she needed her rod to stir her spoon, she quickly realized she picked up the wrong instrument. "Silly me! I almost added a certain flavor to my dimbula tea, did I?" The latter half was met with a small giggle. "Heavens no!"

Her grandmother groaned. Jennie noticed the blood dripping out of her mouth underneath the duct tape. "What's the matter, Grandmother? Speak up! Struck a nerve? Cat got your tongue?" A psychotic grin stirred on Jennie's face as her grandmother's weary eyes widened when their eyes met at the spread on the table.

"Oh, sweetness. I wouldn't worry. Most people won't be able to distinguish choice cuts. I was certain to place it without stirring much confusion." Jennie poured more tea into the cup. "Especially when one can have an acquired taste."

"Yokada Yokada" continued to play as Jennie continued to drink her tea. Jennie wouldn't get this aggressive toward her grandmother. Initially, she had planned to pry a fingernail from her finger. However, seeing the brochure on the table, the food, and using the good china, she knew what was happening.

"Don't worry, Grandmother. I have told Daddy that you were going out for an errand," she told calmly as she finished her tea. The teacup was empty. "As you can see, Grandma. The tea has been tapped out. Just like my feelings." Her eyes widened as she pulled the small knife on the table. "You had one job, Grandmother and you couldn't do that. Why must you interfere with our happiness?" By this time, her voice was rising. So much so that she didn't realize that the volume to the record player was increasing. Then, the sound of running water and finally, the loud sound of the television.

Jennie stared frantically at her grandmother. "Good to know my servant is aware of the change of plans, Grandmother." She stood up, tightening her gloves as she pointed the knife at her direction. Her grandmother began screaming through the duct tape.

"Shh! Shh! Relax, Grandmother," she said as she stroked her hair. "Relax, this life. This life isn't good for you anymore. It's making you senile. You are not making the right decisions. That worries me a lot. Yes, yes, yes." Slowly, she edged the knife at her grandmother's neck. "I am saving you from yourself. This perilous world does things to people like you. Like I have mentioned, making bad decisions." She indented the knife into her neck, breaking the skin. "I know you didn't mean to inform Daddy about the omiai. It happens." The failing grandmother was shaking rapidly as she inserted the knife further into the neck. "It wasn't your fault for trying to convince my Daddy to send me away. I can be overzealous, overly dedicated. Wayward is a poor choice of words. Devoted, loyal. Those are better words." The grandmother tried to tip over but Coco came and held the grandmother down by her legs.

"Don't worry, Grandmother. Just let go. Forget your troubles. I am taking you to paradise," exclaimed Jennie excitedly. "I am setting you free. Don't struggle. Just give in. I forgive you for not knowing what you have done." She pressed her mouth to her grandmother's ear as the groaning was lowering. "Don't ever separate a daughter from a father, you BITCH!" She gripped harder as the knife made it to the end of the neck. She hit the nerve as blood splattered to the table.

It was over. Her grandmother's body jerked and then tilted over. "Yokada Yokada" came to an end.

Coco Adel didn't hesitate as she left the room and headed into a hallway closet. Jennie removed the gloves from her hands. A speck of blood was on her wrist. She licked what she called delicatessen. The knowing of death was quite familiar. Quite vulgar, mundane, but quite a passion. Even as she heard her grandmother gurgle, it felt similar to an orgasm. The taste of blood. She couldn't find real meaning. Nevertheless, she meant when she said to never divide a father's love.

Coco returned with a blanket. Jennie watched as she used a knife to remove the ropes and then kicked her from the chair to the blanket. Coco quickly went to the bathroom where she can find any cleaning solution. Immediately, she began cleaning.

Because of her grandmother's foolishness, her goal of meeting her father has deviated. It mattered not as she reached for another sucker into her pocket. It was for a good cause. Now, she had stronger reasons why this vile excuse of a woman deserved to die.

If this woman convinced her poor grandmother to send Jennie away, then that was no woman she wanted to meet or to know.

"Is her car in the garage," asked Jennie.

"Yes, ma'am," confirmed Coco as she was on her knees with gloves to clean the blood.

"Is your contact ready for us," asked Jennie sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," confirmed Coco.

"Ok. Make this quick so that we can head over to your contact to destroy our evidence," she said to Coco. "I will be in the backyard. Call me when you are through."

She used the hem of her skirt to slide open the back door. She stepped outside so that she can get some air. Thoughts hit her mind as she recalled her first kill those many years ago.

The things I will do for my Daddy. For we belong together. Forever and ever.

To be continued….