1

Click clack.

I look around while paying attention to every detail. Nothing must be exceeded at the risk of paying a very dear price, at the risk of paying for it with my life.

I stretch a smile at the corner of my lips, far be it from me to express my joy, but I would rather say my sadism. I'm proud of the picture before me: The room is dark, two men are slumped on the floor in the middle of a beautiful pool of blood.

One of the men is fat and bearded, a bullet is implanted in his chest. The blood from that bullet is dripping all over his chest. The other is slimmer and slender, a real skinny guy. The back of his head is soaked in blood and I'm willing to bet that for lack of the number of blows I kicked him, his body is blue all over. The result is chilling

All this is indeed my work.

I get my skirt and put it around my waist. The thong I wore had made a splash after men. I didn't need more to seduce them.

I tuck my blonde locks behind my ears and sigh. It feels good.

Click Clack.

Time is running out and I have to be sure that nothing sticks out of the scene, that I haven't forgotten anything. No mistakes would be allowed.

I then see the skinny guy's phone sticking out of his pocket, he has dialed 101, the police number. My gaze goes back to his morbid face, he opened his eyes. My punches weren't enough. My calm disappears immediately: He had taken advantage of my taking care of his friend to call the cops.

"Bitch, he throws at me, gritting his teeth."

My blood only turns. I shoot this phone. The bullet pierces him and the man's leg, a moan escapes his throat. Perfect.

He's not dead but will soon succumb to his injuries before those fucking cops show up.

I tilt my head to the side, a detail is missing, a little something before I slip away: the murder weapon. I place it delicately in the hands of the oldest man. With my gloves on, I press his hands around the gun. I want him to grab it like he's caught it.

I squint at his gold Michael Kors watch and take it off his wrist. It must be worth a little over five hundred dollars, we can consider this as a small bonus to my tempting salary.

It's perfect. Everything is perfect.

The police would believe in a simple settling of accounts between friends. She wouldn't delay conducting a judicial inquiry: everyone was dead, they had other things to give a fuck. I was grateful to them a few times for their memorable inattention.

I give my boss a quick "It's done" then grab my sunglasses.

I turn on my heels and hurry towards the back of the house. In the distance the police come running, but it's far too late for them.

A smile stretches from my lips and I start my motorcycle, the engine swarms under my buttocks, it's pleasant. I drop a light "Bye bitches" and leave. It's my favorite phrase, I must admit.

For the state, the pimp of peace, I would say that the damage was done, but I'm a contract killer, so it's different. I would say justice was served. I don't really know why these two men deserved death, and I don't give a damn. I excused the order. I just know they went after women, that's enough for me not to ask.

***

My heels click frantically against the tiles, my walk is quick and sure. My gaze is cold, it's starting to become a habit.

"Everything went well boss?"

I nod and stretch another smile.

"We have the contract, I announce."

Their faces express admiration but also respect. I breathe in this idolizing air that surrounds me and rejoice in it. It amuses me, that's all. These people imagine themselves working for an international underwear firm: Brandy Bra. But they are far from reality.

This is just a double cover for our criminal organization. We actually sell these luxury underwear, but it's not where most of the business comes from. Rather, it's the heads we kill that make us big.

This transnational firm of underwear is therefore only an excuse to explain the significant turnover of our organization during tax audits.

I don't deal with the lingerie side, I don't really care. I play illegally. I kill because I'm asked to, but not just anyone either, my sadism has its limits.

I kill no women, no children, I kill men. Men with black hearts, rich men, men who have everything and who dare to cheat, or lay hands on their wives. Men who undermine the symbol of femininity, men who treat us like objects, like bitches.

We sometimes deal with men in the mafias, but rarely, it's more complicated and it requires perfect organization. He asks us for a lot of sacrifices which I don't like to give up. It takes me away from less main objective. Moreover, this kind of mission can last six months or two years, I am quickly tired of it.

Dealing with the mafia is much less enjoyable than dealing with these disrespectful men. I love pleasing these rich men, using my charm before ruining them in front of my eyes. I like the change of atmosphere during one of my interventions: from charm to total terror.

I walk into a room and smooth my brown hair with one hand. They're disheveled, because of that blonde wig I have to wear outside. Above all, I hate being disheveled, it annoys me, but it would be a shame to be recognized.

I type a code, while being careful that no eyes are watching me, a room opens and I lock it. A dozen women are seated at their desks. These women are part of my staff playing illegal, they are contract killers too.

They are the only ones who really know about our criminal activities. Some employees sometimes suspect the illegality of this company, but they quickly end up understanding that it is not necessary to engage in this field of research.

So there are two categories of personnel here.

I finally go to my office and throw myself into my chair mechanically. I grab my coffee, and look around the room. This room is cold, impersonal. There is simply a black office, in the middle of white walls: White from the outside but so black from the inside. She represents me completely.

I unbutton my coat and throw it away. Silence buzzes in my ears, boredom haunts me and yet I feel good. Killing and even more when it comes to a man always pisses me off.

I am interrupted from my daydreams when someone knocks on my door.

After one of my missions I hate to be disturbed. I like to drink coffee and take a cigarette so I can breathe.

I grab my gun and allow the staff to enter. Eva and Cheyenne enter the room. My eyes then fix this man they hold firmly in their arms. He screams, like a sissy, and I can't help laughing.

"Damn let me go!" I am completely harmless.

Eva propels him to the ground, he crashes into it. His head slams against the floor.

“He was snooping behind, he's a cop.

I look back at him. The darkness in my eyes seems to frighten him. I lower myself obediently and point my gun in the direction of his head.

“I'm willing to bet a shot here would do a lot of damage,” I scoffed in a harsh voice.

He is scared, it would almost make me enjoy seeing a terrified man. But I've already seen so much that I'm almost insensitive.

- A cop? I asked.

— Ex-cop! Damn, get your gun out, I wanna talk.

I grab his shirt and rip it open, I scan his chest with my available hand and check that he has no microphone or weapon on him.

- Then talk.

I was so obsessed with my paranoia that I hadn't even taken the time to contemplate his physique. My gaze quickly lingers on her body. He is rather young, I would say he is a little older than me, or just as much. He is slender and well-built even if his shoulders seem a little narrow. He has a square face, a thin nose and large gray eyes reflecting his sincerity.

He doesn't seem disarmed with his self-confidence, even though I terrify him. He tries a sad look and I blink. What am I doing? I don't care what he really looks like.

He pushes the gun away with all his good will and points it in another direction. I put it back next to his head and laugh.

"3.2..." I started counting.

He begins to panic but eventually pulls a USB drive out of his pocket. I stop counting immediately. The girls grab the key and make sure it's safe. The brunette notices it.

“It's all my years of researching your fucking tape. I give it to you, in exchange you listen to me while releasing your weapon.

“Except now we have the key, so killing you doesn't change anything, I say.

And let it be said, it is not information from a lousy police officer that would put us in danger. There was no one more cautious than us. If we were alive, we hadn't made any mistakes.

- I want to be hired he finally said.

A laugh escaped the two women. I contained myself, but I was not amused to say the least. This man was freaking out, the only thing he deserved was death.

“There's nothing funny about it. I spent three years in prison because of my damned colleagues who betrayed me during a mission, making me appear as the killer of the story. I need all the butter.

I look up and sit in my chair. Finally, leaving him alive for a few more minutes tempts me, he will be the distraction of the day.

Cheyenne looks at the key carefully and replies.

“Sorry, as you noticed, only women work here. Unless you have a nice pair of breasts and a nice ass your offer is refused. You have quite the nerve to ask to be hired here, in addition to the danger to which you expose yourself.

This is partially wrong. There are only girls in this agency, but the real master of it all is still a man. It is he who gives us the order of the people we must kill, he remains very distant from us. I never saw him, I heard his voice only once. He may be a man, but I know that we see things in the same direction and that reassures me.

- I do not care he replies tit for tat. Want to pull the trigger? Do it. I lost my little girl when I went to prison, my wife took her away from me and left me. Everyone thinks I'm guilty of something I didn't do. Everyone hates me, if I can't at least get this revenge, I would have tried, I have nothing left to lose.

I flutter my eyelashes. Only revenge speaks at this moment, I perceive it in his eyes.

I sigh because I'm starting to get a little bored. I find it fun to load and unload the weapon in front of his eyes. My cruelty is expressed through this gesture that I perform with passion.

“But a man can be a very big advantage.

"Since when was being a man an advantage?"

He looks at me, confused, and blinks. He is not aware of my hatred towards men. Yet it is because of them that I am the demonic being that I am now.

“Well, first of all, it's obvious that in a fight we perform better, and then, aren't you a little frustrated to see only women here? At least, me it is not to displease me but...

BANG. The gunshot went off. He's lucky, I just grazed his ear with the bullet, totally controlled shot I didn't want him to die without having time to taste his death. His ear is bleeding a little, but nothing too alarming. I carry the weapon in front of his head, and lower myself like a fury. If there's one thing I hate, it's hearing a macho man talking, underestimating a woman as a sex object.

I reload the gun and get ready to fire, Eva and Cheyenne hold him back as he tries to struggle.

My cell phone rings and my blood freezes. There's nothing more frustrating than being ready to kill and being interrupted. The phone continues to ring as I stare at the man.

I pull the trigger, the man tenses, he tries to back up and closes his eyes. Seeing that the phone is insistent, I moan and retrieve it.

“E, drop that gun right now,” a voice tells me.

He's the boss. This is the second time I hear his voice. She is cold and hard. He leaves no room for hesitation in his words. His voice slips into my eardrums and freezes me from the inside.

"He's a man, he won't do us any good, let me do what I want with him."

'He's a former cop, he'll be useful to us. He is too frail and helpless to attempt anything. You kill him, I kill you.

He hangs up. I throw my gun to the floor and sit back in my seat. My nerves are tense and it is impossible for me to calm down. I am frustrated. I don't understand why the boss wants to keep this man alive and make him part of the gang.

We have a motto, never refuse help from someone out for revenge. But this is a man, he knows my hatred towards them. But I sometimes forget that it's not me who controls everything, there is more above.

I see a smirk at the corners of the brunette's lips.

“Well, it looks like I'm finally on board. I didn't think it would be so simple. To say that I thought I was going to die in the following seconds… he laughs.

He tries to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work with us. My blood quickens at the sight of his proud face. I should have killed him from the start, I shouldn't have hesitated, it was my fault. I had been weak, it was my mistake. I give him a cold look.

"Don't laugh too long. You've been brave so far, see damn cheeky, but you're far from imagining what's really going on here. Don't worry, I'll be there to show you all the colors, pink, blue, green but above all every shade of black.