At any time an invitation you can't decline.

[deadliestviper]

Who: B and the always illustrious Jim Moriarty.
What: Reminiscing about times past; discussing a couple of business proposals.
Where: London, any restaurant Jim likes.
When: Broad daylight, the best time for unsavory dealings.

"It's gonna be a great environment for my little girl to grow up in."

"As opposed to jetting around the world, killing human beings, and being paid vast sums of money?"

"Precisely."

That had been almost fourteen years ago but she remembered every word of the conversation, and every moment of indecision and worry and fear that led her to having it. She remembered everything about that day, in fact, each detail of the Two Pines Wedding Chapel and its congregation fresh in her mind. It had played through her consciousness like a movie on loop, each thundering bullet and dying scream strengthening her resolve.

But she'd done what she needed to be done. Her work was finished, and today, she paid no attention to the massacre. Just that conversation, the last really peaceful exchange she'd had with Bill. Pause the movie, right there.

Sipping at a cup of sweetened cafe au lait, Beatrix sat pensively, reflecting on her words. She'd gone through a hell of a lot for BB. Breaking Bill's heart, suffering his revenge, fighting out of a coma, cutting her way through each hateful killer who destroyed the safe little life she'd tried to build up for the little girl.

"All those people you killed to get to me... felt damn good, didn't they? Every single one of them."

Yes.

And she'd won. She'd somehow managed it, some twisted face of Providence smiled on her and had given her satisfaction and something far more precious than that. When she finally got to wrap her arms around her daughter, it didn't matter that the attempt at normalcy hadn't worked. It couldn't have; Bill was right about that much. Just as he was, she was a killer and would never be anything else no matter what mask she wore. He hadn't tried to hide it; although she was young, and although she may not have understood, Bill had always given his daughter the truth.

That legacy was one she'd tried to respect, and BB had grown up asking every question Beatrix could hope to answer and many more besides. Can I pick up the sword? When can I hold a real gun? Why did Daddy shoot you? Why did you kill Daddy, Mommy? You can kill people you love? Did you love Daddy? Do you love me? Is anyone going to kill me? And soon after, her little girl asked the one question she both dreaded and anticipated from the very beginning: Will you teach me?

There had been no use in denying it after that. BB couldn't be dissuaded and proved to be a quick study, practicing every skill and perfecting every move her mother could teach. She pleaded for more lessons, drank in the knowledge as thirstily as B herself had in her youth. And so she learned. There was no longer anything to shield her from, no danger of damaging her illusion of normality; there were only the few pieces of shit who had survived Beatrix's rampage to worry about.

No reason for B to hold back on the work she did. And thanks to Bill's phenomenal connections, she knew just the man who'd have business for her.

"Jim," she said, setting her cup down on the table and fixing him with a sweet smile. "Thanks for meeting me. I'm ready to talk."