Post by Storyteller on Nov 20, 2017 22:43:10 GMT -8
Diary of an Mad Black Woman:
Dear Diary,
Somebody fuckin' sniped my target today. Got-damn towelhead too...
Dear Diary,
Somebody fuckin' sniped my target today. Got-damn towelhead too...
"Oh no, you motherfucker!" She kicked the door again, which splintered a little more under her power. She had to be impressed a little by the craftsmanship on the door itself. Rarely would a hotel door stand up to more than one of her kicks. This one had taken two, and while she was still on the wrong side of it, she could see her quarry on the other side, readying himself to jump out the window.
Stupid Toreador. Jim or Tom or something. Something generic. Who gives a shit. The hunt is the key, not the kill. Not that this was a kill situation. Unless he made this any harder for her. Then she would wreck him like a truck.
"Mama Faith! I said I was on my way to see him! Fuck!" The useless whino
Behind her, she heard the sound of a blade being drawn.
"Oh HEEEEEEELL Naw!" She whirled on this new target. Perhaps it was a hotel employee he had paid off to protect him. Or a retainer they had outpaced on the run here.
Nope.
It was a picture out of a history book. A man in dated Bedouin garb, holding a scimitar. A scimitar! Her face scrunched up, incredulous at what she was seeing.
"Dah fuck..." She only had a split second to respond before he was walking toward her, down the hallway. No expression on his face, no hurry in his step. Like she wasn't there.
But she was there. No no no, buddy. Her face snarled up, and her arms swung wide. He was going down.
She picked up speed and hit him with a textbook linebacker tackle. Or rather, she should have hit him. She got nothing, and found herself on the ground. Rolling over, her shock taking the words out of her mouth, she watched as he walked through the broken door like it wasn't there. Everything on the other side of the door went dark, and she heard a soul-shaking scream. Then the lights came back on, and all was quiet. It was over as fast as it started.
She stood up, pushed through the remains of the door, and looked around the room.
Blood was everywhere. Everywhere. It took her a minute to locate her mark. He was in the kitchen area of the suite, or what was left of him was, anyway. He had been staked to the cabinet with the kitchen knives, and the entire front of his body had been cut off. All his innards lay on the floor in front of him, and his face was contorted in a silent scream.
Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone. Regardless, this had to be cleaned up.
"Yup. Dead. Big job, bring everyone."
Mama Faith stepped back through the ruined door. The Prince would want to hear about this.