Hitmen
1/1
"Did you know the fear of long words is called hippopotamontroquipodaliaphobia?" Commander asked Chief, leaning back in the passenger seat and lighting a cigarette.
"No, I didn't know that. I don't know what I would have done if you'd have never shared that information with me," Chief responded, driving.
"Yenno, you could at least entertain me a little, instead of just being an ass. And I'll have you know, you ran a stop sign just now," Commander said, blowing smoke at Chief.
Chief didn't respond. She rolled her eyes and continued to drive. Just to be funny, she ran the next stop sign too. And the next light.
"You haven't even asked me for directions yet. I'm the one holding the print-out," Commander said, after a few moments of silence.
"I studied them when the lady gave it to us, okay? I knew if I asked you, we'd be in Jackson right now, for chrissake," Chief said, keeping her eyes on the road.
"Hey, how the hell can we end up in Jackson if I got the fuckin' paper right here, eh? You think of that?" Commander put her feet up on the dashboard.
"Well ya had the 'fuckin' paper' last time we were working, and we ended up in goddamn Kansas. I don't underestimate your uncanny ability to screw up." Chief ran another stop sign. "And get your feet off the damn dashboard. You'll dirty up the window with those shoes. If I can call 'em that."
"Don't rag on my shoes. I don't rag on your hundred year old boots. Stop makin' fun of me, and I won't tap my cig in that measly tuft of hair of yours, okay?"
Chief rolled her eyes and wiggled her nose. A habit she developed after have both sides of her nose pierced.
"So yeah, that's what it's called. And podophobia is the fear of feet, you know that? What kinda freak is afraid of goddamn feet?" Commander continued.
"I don't like feet. I think they're pretty gross. I mean, they don't scare the shit out of me, but I'd prefer not to see somebody's toes. They're like…deformed fingers," Chief replied.
Commander stared at her for a good minute.
"I should've guessed. A freak like you," she said finally.
"Shut up, I'm just sayin' feet aint the most pleasant part of the body." Chief made a turn.
Commander leaned forward and started playing with the radio. After messing with the tuner for five minutes, she turned it on.
"After we get paid, we can trade in this piece of shit car. Get one of those nice Italian numbers, with the satellite radios. We only get like five stations," she said.
Chief shifted in the driver seat and shrugged, making another turn.
"I prefer silence anyway. We got a nice apartment last time we got paid, I figure we should save up. Start makin' some investments and profit."
Command scrunched up her nose.
"Who the fuck are you, Donald Trump?" she asked.
"You're just so funny. We should quit and start your career in stand up," Chief said sarcastically. Commander flipped her off and drummed on her thighs. Chief pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building.
"Wow. We should live here, it's real nice," Commander said, looking out the window.
"I don't think I like it that much. Get out. My reruns are on at one." Chief opened the door and stepped out of the car, and Commander did the same.
They walked up and opened the glass doors to the building and went in. The receptionist running the late shift looked up from the front desk and smiled. Chief grinned and leaned on the counter.
"Hello, beautiful." Commander rolled her eyes. Chief continued after the receptionist blushed. "We're looking for a Samantha Cohen. We're old high school friends."
The receptionist furrowed her eyebrows.
"You certainly don't look like her usual friends that stroll through here," she said. Then she smiled. "It's a bit late for visitors…"
"Oh, we know, but we just had to see her. We just got into town, and we were hoping to spend the night catching up with her," Chief said. Most wouldn't consider her to be very attractive, but she was charming.
"Oh, well let me just buzz her and let her know…" the receptionist said, reaching for the phone.
"No, please. We wanted to surprise her," Chief said.
"Well I must let her know someone's coming…"
"Tell her some friends are here from out of town and want to surprise her," Commander said, smiling.
The woman nodded and dialed Samantha's room. She notified her that she had visitors and hung up. Then she smiled.
"She's waiting for you," she said.
"Lovely," Chief said, walking to the elevator, followed by Commander.
They pressed the tenth floor and waited as they were lifted to their destination. When they heard the bell sound, indicating that they had arrived, the doors opened and they stepped out and walked down to room 1055.
When they got there, Commander knocked. They waited, and finally, a woman with long, blond hair in a tank top answered the door.
"Samantha?" Commander asked. Samantha nodded and cocked her head in confusion.
Chief took a pistol out of her coat pocket and fired two shots into the woman's head.
"No, I didn't know that. I don't know what I would have done if you'd have never shared that information with me," Chief responded, driving.
"Yenno, you could at least entertain me a little, instead of just being an ass. And I'll have you know, you ran a stop sign just now," Commander said, blowing smoke at Chief.
Chief didn't respond. She rolled her eyes and continued to drive. Just to be funny, she ran the next stop sign too. And the next light.
"You haven't even asked me for directions yet. I'm the one holding the print-out," Commander said, after a few moments of silence.
"I studied them when the lady gave it to us, okay? I knew if I asked you, we'd be in Jackson right now, for chrissake," Chief said, keeping her eyes on the road.
"Hey, how the hell can we end up in Jackson if I got the fuckin' paper right here, eh? You think of that?" Commander put her feet up on the dashboard.
"Well ya had the 'fuckin' paper' last time we were working, and we ended up in goddamn Kansas. I don't underestimate your uncanny ability to screw up." Chief ran another stop sign. "And get your feet off the damn dashboard. You'll dirty up the window with those shoes. If I can call 'em that."
"Don't rag on my shoes. I don't rag on your hundred year old boots. Stop makin' fun of me, and I won't tap my cig in that measly tuft of hair of yours, okay?"
Chief rolled her eyes and wiggled her nose. A habit she developed after have both sides of her nose pierced.
"So yeah, that's what it's called. And podophobia is the fear of feet, you know that? What kinda freak is afraid of goddamn feet?" Commander continued.
"I don't like feet. I think they're pretty gross. I mean, they don't scare the shit out of me, but I'd prefer not to see somebody's toes. They're like…deformed fingers," Chief replied.
Commander stared at her for a good minute.
"I should've guessed. A freak like you," she said finally.
"Shut up, I'm just sayin' feet aint the most pleasant part of the body." Chief made a turn.
Commander leaned forward and started playing with the radio. After messing with the tuner for five minutes, she turned it on.
"After we get paid, we can trade in this piece of shit car. Get one of those nice Italian numbers, with the satellite radios. We only get like five stations," she said.
Chief shifted in the driver seat and shrugged, making another turn.
"I prefer silence anyway. We got a nice apartment last time we got paid, I figure we should save up. Start makin' some investments and profit."
Command scrunched up her nose.
"Who the fuck are you, Donald Trump?" she asked.
"You're just so funny. We should quit and start your career in stand up," Chief said sarcastically. Commander flipped her off and drummed on her thighs. Chief pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building.
"Wow. We should live here, it's real nice," Commander said, looking out the window.
"I don't think I like it that much. Get out. My reruns are on at one." Chief opened the door and stepped out of the car, and Commander did the same.
They walked up and opened the glass doors to the building and went in. The receptionist running the late shift looked up from the front desk and smiled. Chief grinned and leaned on the counter.
"Hello, beautiful." Commander rolled her eyes. Chief continued after the receptionist blushed. "We're looking for a Samantha Cohen. We're old high school friends."
The receptionist furrowed her eyebrows.
"You certainly don't look like her usual friends that stroll through here," she said. Then she smiled. "It's a bit late for visitors…"
"Oh, we know, but we just had to see her. We just got into town, and we were hoping to spend the night catching up with her," Chief said. Most wouldn't consider her to be very attractive, but she was charming.
"Oh, well let me just buzz her and let her know…" the receptionist said, reaching for the phone.
"No, please. We wanted to surprise her," Chief said.
"Well I must let her know someone's coming…"
"Tell her some friends are here from out of town and want to surprise her," Commander said, smiling.
The woman nodded and dialed Samantha's room. She notified her that she had visitors and hung up. Then she smiled.
"She's waiting for you," she said.
"Lovely," Chief said, walking to the elevator, followed by Commander.
They pressed the tenth floor and waited as they were lifted to their destination. When they heard the bell sound, indicating that they had arrived, the doors opened and they stepped out and walked down to room 1055.
When they got there, Commander knocked. They waited, and finally, a woman with long, blond hair in a tank top answered the door.
"Samantha?" Commander asked. Samantha nodded and cocked her head in confusion.
Chief took a pistol out of her coat pocket and fired two shots into the woman's head.