"A pack of Virginia Slims." Pale pink lips breathed, sky blue stiletto heels clicking on the mucky cream tile as the woman approached the counter.
She had a finger on the trigger, ready to pull.
"For a pretty lady like you? Smoking isn't going to help that perfect complexion love." The cashier swooned, waggling his nasty pedophilic finger at her face. Snapping the gum on her teeth, she used her forefinger to adjust her rectangular glasses, clearly displeased.
"Cut the smooth talk, pervert. Get me my smokes, or are you going to deny a paying customer her purchase?"
Click.
The greasy haired employee complied, slamming down a pack of the chemical sticks on the counter.
"Can't handle a compliment babe? Fine, take your death sticks. Have a horrible day." He sneered, watching her ass as she strutted through the sliding glass doors.
"Wha- Hey you didn't pay! Bitch!" He yelled, calling after the mysterious blonde;
"When you're me, you don't need to. Put it on my tab." She called back, the doors shutting behind her unphased attitude.
Bang.
"Olaf, I want a background check on that oily bastard." Elsa spat, chills running down her spine thinking about that hunchback stalker working at the cash register. "The next time I buy smokes, I don't want to see his face." Olaf; a slim, dark haired male sauntered next to her side. A quirky smile was on his lips. "Yes ma'am!" He nodded, running ahead to open the car door for Elsa.
"And if he is a creep?" A hefty older man inquired, folding his arms over his burly chest.
"You know what to do." The cold skinned woman turned her head, sending a bone chilling glare towards the small convenience store. The car door slammed, leaving the odd pair of black shirted men behind in the dust as the dark hummer veered off into the other direction.
"Whoa!" Olaf gasped, keyboard keys clacking quickly as his fingers jumped across the computer. "Marshmallow look at this… This guy, Howard, hes a complete freak!" Olaf screeched. Technical beeping and whirring filled the air of their USPS truck; a perfect disguise for hitmen. His finger rubbed down the glass screen, reading off each of the many offenses this guy, Howard, had. "Armed robbery, attempted homicide and the list goes on! How did this guy even get a job? Wait…" Olaf muttered something else, barely above a whisper. It ghosted out from his lips, almost suffocating him. The hefty man nudged Olaf's shoulder, "What is it?" His baritone voice wondered. "R-rape.. of a minor. Of a little girl. This man is sick, he's fucking sick." Olaf's voice broke, he slammed his fist down onto the keyboard, the screen going black in front of him. Marshmallow shook his head, white hair swaying slightly with the motion. "We know what to do. Let's tell the boss, it'll be alright. This guy's just another speck of dirt we have to clean up." Slumping down in the chair next to his friend, 'Marshmallow' took out his phone, pressing '1' and waiting for the pick-up.
"Yes?"
"Howard Wells, a real piece o' work he is. Robbery, attempted homicide and dare I say rape of a minor. Looks like we got ourselves a winner boss."
Her lip twitched.
"Well then, be sure to award him. Be sure to give my condolences as well." She laughed, pressing the 'end' button with a freshly polished nail.
The moon was fogged over, like smoke from a cigarette. The air was humid and hot, almost chokingly so. A single street light poured down yellow-green rays onto a blue beemer. Howard Wells walked to his car, closing up the small, sleazy drug store at the corner of 12th and Brown. It was time.
"Mr. Wells. How's the night treating you?" Olaf had his hands stuffed into his pockets, black curly hair slightly disheveled. He sauntered forwards, letting himself bathe in the greenish glow of the street lamp. A gangly hand found it's way up to greasy, stick-like hair. Olaf had to keep himself from gagging, this man was absolutely appalling.
"I don't want whatever the hell it is you're selling." The rat-man spat, hunching over to unlock his backdoor, throwing his work apron inside. "Well, it just so happens, I'm not selling. I'm giving." Olaf took a breath, allowing his husky friend to appear out of the fog and into the sickly lamp light. "I'm giving you a chance to say your apologies, to those people you robbed blindly, the people you tried to kill, and that little girl you raped." Olaf stood his ground, neck muscles clenching when the gnarly rat-man stepped closer to him, sizing him up.
His finger was on the trigger, ready to pull.
Howard threw his head back, neck cracking as he did so. And what did that bastard do? He laughed, like this was the funniest thing in the world. For his last words, he chose to laugh. He put a hand to his hip, the fit subsiding as he wiped away the tear escaping from his eye. "Those mongrels got what the fuckin' deserved. All of 'em! Even that little girl who cried for her mom, 'Mommy, mommy!'" - he barked in a high pitched voice - "'Make this bad man stop!'" Olaf's lip curled back in a snarl, his eyebrow twitching mad. You bastard. The dark haired man thought, barely keeping his composure
Click.
"The only one who got what they deserved, is you, bitch." Marshmallow reached inside his leather coat, looping his finger around the trigger. He pulled up and out, aiming the barrel straight for his skull. No time to react. The only sound heard was a gunshot sounding off into the brisk atmosphere.
Bang.
"Elsa sends her condolences, motherfucker. Rest in shit." The gun wielding hitman sneered. Crimson rivulets streamed down sagging skin. A bullet hole placed smack dab in the middle of Howard's forehead glistened in the faint light, the fog slowly swallowing them. Marshmallow placed a gloved hand on top of Olaf's shoulder, squeezing it tightly and pulling him towards the postal truck waiting in the alley way across the street.