Control

Providence, Rhode Island

She strolled up to the two guards at the entrance of the building. They couldn’t believe what they saw – a stunningly beautiful woman dressed all in black. She wore a silky slip dress underneath a knee-length overcoat and knee-high leather boots. Surely she must have come to the wrong place . . .

"Can we help you?"

"Maybe. Is Nick in his office today?"

"You’re here to see Nick?" the first guard asked, incredulous. "I don’t recall him having any appointments today."

"Well, he has one with me."

"And what sort of . . . business . . . does he have with you?" The guard eyed her suspiciously, and with a strong hint of lust.

She reacted indignantly. "What, do you think I’m one of his whores? Is that what you think?"

The second guard laughed. His partner moved closer to the woman and twirled some strands of her long, dark hair. "We may just have to find out for ourselves if that’s what you are."

She shoved the man away. "Look, I have something in here," she pointed to her handbag, "that will convince you once and for all that I have some serious business with Nick today."

"Well, why don’t you just show it to us, then?"

"I will." She rifled through her bag, made sure the silencer was attached to her 9mm semiautomatic, and took the grip in her hand. "Here it is!"

She pulled out the gun and took aim at the first guard. Thhnk, thhnk – two silenced shots and the man was dead, slumped against the wall. The second guard reached for his gun, but he was too late: she took aim and fired. The shots dropped him to the floor, where he lay contorted and lifeless.

She stepped over their bodies and moved forward through the hallway. This time it wasn’t going to be easy – there were armed guards all over the building. For the first time in her career as a hit woman, she was afraid that she might not make it out alive. She couldn’t shake her anxiety, but for now she had to concentrate on the task at hand.

As she walked through a hallway, two more guards appeared. They drew their weapons on her.

"Whoa there, cowboys! What does a girl do to receive such a greeting?"

"You’re not authorized to be in here. Who let you in?"

"The gentlemen at the front door."

"What are you doing in here?"

"Killing people." She smiled seductively at them; they laughed nervously at her remark. Figuring that the sexy siren couldn’t possibly be a threat, they lowered their guns.

"Well, you’re definitely dressed to kill," one of the guards remarked.

"You like?" she asked. "I wore my best fuck-me boots for the occasion." She tilted ever so slightly on her four-inch heels.

One of the guards, clearly aroused, moved closer to her. "And what exactly would that occasion be?"

She grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her. She whispered in his ear, "You stupid, stupid man! I already told you the occasion. I’m killing people." She shoved her gun into his chest and squeezed off two rounds. She held on to his shirt as he collapsed, letting him drop to the floor, dead at her feet. She leveled her sights at the other man, who stood there in disbelief. He didn’t know where to turn or what to do, so he held up his hands in surrender.

"Oh, you think you can get off that easily?" she sneered. "You can just throw up your hands and I’ll follow the fucking Geneva Accords."

"Don’t do it . . . please don’t shoot."

"Well, I obviously can’t shoot you when you’re like that. You have to present me with a little more of a challenge. Why don’t you try to shoot me?"

He couldn’t believe what she was saying.

"Go on; take that gun out of your waistband and let me have it. Show me what a big, tough, gun-slinging guy you are."

He reached slowly for the gun, his hand nervously shaking, his eyes fixed on the deadly woman in black before him.

"You coward; come on, already!" she taunted.

He pulled it swiftly from his belt. Before the doomed man could get off a shot she nailed him, the suppressor sounding his death knell – thhnk, thhnk, thhnk. She went over to him and kicked him over to roll him on his back. She admired the tight triangle of bullet holes she’d placed on his chest. "Sorry I toyed with you like that. You have to admire the marksmanship, though."

She climbed the stairs to the fifth floor where her target was. Looking into the hallway to see what she was up against, she counted only two bodyguards outside Nick’s office. She knew she had to take advantage of the moment. She passed through the doorway and into the hall, taking cover behind a corner opposite the guards. She planned her attack, then made her move.

She went directly to where the bodyguards were standing, doing her best catwalk strut. The men, predictably, told her to stop where she was. They had no idea what she had in store for them . . .

"The boss didn’t send for a call girl; who the hell are you?"

"I’m not a call girl; I’m just a girl looking for a good time."

"Come on, now. Who let you in here?"

"I don’t know. They said it was okay," she pouted.

"We’re going to give you ten seconds to clear out of here. This is a highly restricted area."

"Well, all right. But before I go, do you guys want to have a little fun?"

"Look, we’re busy here." The other bodyguard chimed in, "Yeah, we’re professionals. We don’t have time for your . . ."

While the guard was talking, she flashed one of her breasts. Both men gave a startled laugh at the exhibition.

"That was very nice, ma’am, but can you leave now?"

"What’s the matter? Am I distracting you from your work?"

"Just a little bit. Do you have anything else you want to show us?" They were clearly getting a kick out of her little game. "Why don’t you show us some more?"

"You want to see more, do you?" She rubbed her thighs, tugging at the hem of her dress. "You boys want a little show?"

"Yeah, why not? Give us a show!" they shouted to her.

"If you insist. Now close your eyes," she instructed them. They obeyed. "Now I want you to keep them closed; no peeking! Now turn around and face the other way." They did as she told them. "We’re going to play a little game. I’m going to touch something with my hands, and you have to guess what it is. If you guess correctly, you get to see it. Okay?"

"Sure, whatever."

"Okay," she called as she pulled her 9mm out of her coat. "I’m touching it now. Do you know what it is?"

They yelled out all manner of body parts and sexual devices; they laughed at each other’s answers.

"No, it’s none of those. Keep trying." She took aim at one of the guards. "Geez, you guys suck at this game. I’m just going to tell you what it is: it’s a gun."

They stopped laughing. They each made a half-turn towards her. With a nonchalant squeeze of the trigger – thhnk – she blew away the first bodyguard with a well-placed shot. He hit the floor with a thud. The second bodyguard turned fully to face her, but he had no way of reaching his weapon in time. He saw her point the barrel directly at his chest. Thhnk. The bullet found its mark; he fell backwards. Thhnk. A second bullet struck him. Thhnk. A third bullet – this one delivering the coup de grace – flew from the gun.

She entered Nick’s office. On the way in she reached into her coat and shoved another clip into her 9mm. She held it firmly in front of her as she approached the man sitting behind the desk. He looked up from the computer screen he had been staring at. His jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight of the lethal woman standing there. He seemed too shocked to utter a word.

"What – who the – Is this some kind of sick joke?" he angrily demanded.

"It’s no joke, Nicholas Locatelli. Put your hands up where I can see them!"

"How did you get in here? Walter! Lou!" he shouted to his guards.

"They can’t help you now. You’re going to die."

"How did you get in here?"

"I whacked all your guards on the way in. Now it’s your turn to get whacked." She motioned with the gun for him to stand up. He stood behind his desk, his hands in the air.

"You couldn’t have killed them all – there are at least twenty of my men in here."

Shit! She mentally counted the guards she’d killed. One, two, three, four, five, six . . . Where the fuck are all the others? It’s going to be a bitch-slap to get out of this place.

"Oh, I killed all of them. Look, Nick, I’d love to sit and chat with you all day, but it’s not good technique for an assassin. So I’m going to have to cut the bullshit and blow your brains out." She took steady aim.

"Wait! Don’t. . ."

Thhnk. She watched him fall as she fired away. Thhnk. It was always interesting to her to see how people’s bodies reacted to gunshots. Thhnk. She lowered the gun. There. That should do it. Another day at the office . . .

Nick crashed against the blinds on the window behind him, eventually falling to a seated position. She went up to him and checked for a pulse; there was none to be found.

She left the office and headed for the elevator bank. As she passed one of the dead guards, she heard voices crackling over a walkie-talkie by the man’s side. She could barely make out what they said: "Lou! Come in, dammit! Can you hear me, Lou? There’s someone in the fucking building with a gun! Get Nick out of here; we’re coming up."

"When it rains, it pours," she muttered. She reached into her coat and pulled out the other weapon she had with her, a 9mm H&K submachine gun. She slid a thirty-round clip into the gun and threw the strap over her shoulder.

Just when she was about to press the "down" button on the elevator, she heard a bell chime. It was the other elevator arriving on her floor. She stepped back and stood directly in front of the arriving elevator’s doors. She planted her feet firmly and took hold of the machine gun with both hands. "Whoever you are, you’re dead."

As soon as the doors began to part, she pulled the trigger. The five guards inside never stood a chance; she sprayed the elevator with gunfire. The men thrashed and flailed violently from the intense barrage of bullets at such close range. In a matter of seconds, even before one of them could make a defensive move, it was all over: she had killed them all.

She entered the elevator and surveyed the carnage. Man, I really fucked them up, didn’t I? Even she was surprised by the destruction she had just wrought. Although she had used fully automatic weapons before, it had been a long time since she’d used one so decisively on a job. She generally didn’t consider them as "sportsmanlike" as other weapons, but in a tough situation like this, it was all she could do to survive.

"Going down, anyone?" She knew they’d be waiting for her on the ground floor, so she hit the button for the second floor. She got off the elevator and ran for the stairwell. Peering into the stairwell and seeing no one, she started to descend. Just then she heard the sound of footsteps coming from below. She retreated back to the doorway, where she dropped to a crouching position, lying in wait for the guards. She put a fresh clip into the machine gun and took a deep breath.

Three guards turned the corner on the stairwell landing between the floors. The second they came into view, she opened fire from her position above. The men tumbled back and downwards, the force of the machine gun knocking them off the steps and back onto the landing. Once again, she was amazed by the firepower she wielded. I love this thing! she cooed as she patted the machine gun. Every girl should have one!

She surveyed the damage in the stairwell below. "Boy, do I love being on top!" she exclaimed as she looked at the three bodies that lay on the landing.

Figuring it was safe to proceed, she descended the stairs. When she reached the ground floor, she put her ear against the exit door. She could hear voices outside; it sounded like they were in an enclosed space, possibly the parking garage. The sounds were moving away from her, so she decided to go for it. She popped out of the stairwell, her machine gun ready once more. She was right; she was in the parking garage. Her nearest threat looked like three of Nick’s men hiding behind a parked car a few dozen yards away. They were facing the opposite direction, expecting her to leave the building from the main set of doors. She went over to where they were hiding.

They were in a heated conversation with each other.

"There must be three or four guys in there!"

"They probably got Nick, too."

"Geez, who the hell did this?"

"It was like a fucking war zone; they just knocked off everybody!"

"What the hell were Walt and Lou doing?"

"We have to get out of here. If we stay here, they’ll get us, too. Fuck Nick!"

"Are you saying we should run for it?"

She stood behind them, casually lifting her leg and placing her foot on the bumper of a car. "I think you should definitely make a run for it," she intoned dryly.

They turned to see her standing there, her arms crossed. They couldn’t quite figure out who she was or what she was doing there.

"You scared the shit out of us!"

"Bitch, what are you doing here? Get down!"

"Yeah, there are, like, four or five guys in there with guns!"

"They’ll shoot you, too! Get down!"

"I’m not afraid of them! HEY! COME AND GET ME!" she yelled. "You say four or five guys?"

"Shut up and keep quiet, bitch!"

"Yeah, four or five guys. With guns."

"How do you know they’re guys?" she asked them.

There was a sobering pause. Just as it dawned on them who she was, she threw open her coat and grasped the machine gun.

"This is for calling me a bitch!"

She fired away at the man who used the epithet on her; the shots killed him instantly. Another of the men tried to shoot her, but she was too quick – the machine gun rattled off its deadly venom at the man, blasting him into oblivion against the side of the car.

The last man cowered beside the car, both of his colleagues dead beside him. She took aim at him, but in the distance she could see three more men emerging from the building. They spotted her and took defensive positions. She crouched low behind the car.

"Fuck! Your friends saw me."

"Please, just let me go!"

"Here – give me your gun!" she reached into his jacket and pulled the handgun from its holster. She disengaged the clip and threw it away. "Now stand up!"

"If I stand up, they’ll shoot me!"

"You have no choice. Stand up!"

Slowly, with arms raised, the man stood up. Sure enough, shots rang out. The man cringed, but he wasn’t hit. "DON’T SHOOT! IT’S ME!" he yelled to them. They held their fire.

"Man, your pals are lousy shots! Here, get down!" She yanked him back behind the car.

"Who the hell are you?" the man said in bewilderment. "I ain’t never seen a chick like you before."

"I’m a kinky gun slut. We’re all over the place; I can’t believe you haven’t heard of us," she deadpanned.

She surveyed the surroundings. "Well, it looks like we’re at an impasse here. I doubt they’d care if I took you hostage."

"No, they don’t care about me. They’d shoot us both." He surveyed the woman, looking her up and down. He thought for a moment about trying to tackle her, but he decided the risk from her gun was too great. "So did you guys get Nick?"

"Will you get it out of your tiny head that it’s ‘you guys,’ plural? It’s just me," she snapped at him. "And yes, I got Nick. He’s not your boss anymore."

"You mean you that killed all those guys by yourself?" he looked at her, skeptically. "No way! There’s no way."

"It’s true. Now shut up!"

She peered over the car; the three guards were still there, waiting for her to move. "I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" she shouted to them.

Her hostage was shaking his head. "All those ‘tough guys’ . . . Steve . . . Lou . . . Don . . . Nick! . . . all those guys got killed by a hit woman. Un-fucking-believable!"

She grabbed the man by the throat. "You’d better believe it! They were thinking with their cocks, they were looking for some pussy, and BANG! They got killed by pussy!"

She knelt down and looked beneath the car; she could see one man making a move into the parking garage to her right flank. "I CAN SEE WHERE YOU’RE GOING OVER THERE. I WOULDN’T DO THAT IF I WERE YOU." She took out her 9mm pistol and fired a shot in the man’s direction; he stopped in his tracks.

She sighed. "Well, it looks like I’m just going to have to shoot my way out of here the old fashioned way." She checked her gun; she was ready. "Stay here," she commanded her hostage.

She popped up from behind the car and fired away at the guard closest to her, but didn’t hit him. The three men sent back a volley of shots in her direction. The car she used for cover was taking a beating. She ran behind another car, her assailants taking potshots at her the whole way.

"WHY DON’T YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE?" she yelled at the men.

"Give it up, bitch!" one of them responded.

That’s it, she thought. I’ve been called ‘bitch’ one too many times today. These worthless bastards are going to pay.

She lay flat by the car. Sure enough, she could see one of the guards kneeling behind a car about fifteen yards away. With careful aim, she pointed her handgun underneath the rows of cars and locked on to the man’s legs. The shot rang out. The bullet was true; the man collapsed on the concrete, grabbing his knee.

She moved swiftly from one car to the next, closer to where the injured man lay. She hid behind a tire opposite the man.

"I know you’re there!" the injured guard yelled to her. "I can still shoot."

She laughed. "And so can I."

He fired at her, but his shots were wild and uncontrolled, and there was too much metal in between them.

She calmly dropped to one knee and extended her arm under the car. "Peek-a-boo!" She had another clear shot at him. She fired three shots in quick succession. The man convulsed and rolled over so that he was facing the other direction. She raced around to the other side, ready to shoot again if necessary; it wasn’t. The man’s body was in that twisted, awkward position of a violent death.

She was wary of the other two guards still hiding in the parking garage. She listened for a moment, but heard nothing. She retraced her footsteps to her first hiding place, but her hostage was gone.

Men never listen.

She knew they’d be waiting for her to exit in her car, so there was no possibility of driving away. She remembered there was an exit door at the other end of the garage. She’d have to walk away and perhaps steal or carjack a ride home.

She exited the garage and entered an alleyway behind the building. She made sure no one was there – in the alley, in a window, on a rooftop . . . Once she felt it was safe, she stepped into the alley. She began to look for a car to steal, but the only thing parked in the alley was a delivery truck. Hey, I could pass for a FedEx girl. She peered into the cabin, but the driver wasn’t there. Hearing some noise, she moved to the rear of the truck. I won’t kill the poor driver, she thought. Just scare his pants off.

Her 9mm pistol ready with yet another new clip, she made her move. To her surprise, the driver – a young, petite woman – was lying on the ground in a pool of blood behind the truck. The hit woman turned to face the open cargo hold. It was one of Nick’s last guards inside the truck, busily loading boxes. He saw her and immediately tossed a box at her. It was heavy and hit her directly in the chest. She fell backwards, her butt landing hard on the asphalt, but she didn’t lose her grip on the gun. From a seated position she fired. The suppressor still attached to the barrel, the gun came to life: Thhnk. Thhnk. Thhnk. The man crashed into the stacked boxes, sending them falling everywhere.

She jumped into the cargo hold and cautiously inched towards him, ready to shoot again if he even coughed. She removed his gun and set it out of reach, but he wouldn’t be able to use it – she could see he was gasping, taking his last breaths of life.

"That’s for killing a sister," she sneered at him. Just for good measure, she picked up a box and dropped it on him.

Curious, she opened a box to reveal its contents. I should’ve known. The box was filled with armor-piercing ammunition, just one of the many illicit products Nick was in the business of selling. Maybe I should just drive this thing home and unload it.

Exhausted and bruised, she sat on the bumper of the truck and looked at the dead delivery woman. The woman wore the company’s uniform – a short-sleeved shirt with the logo, shorts exposing her lithe, tanned legs, and a baseball cap with her hair pulled through the back in a ponytail. Kind of small for a delivery truck driver, thought the assassin, but the poor girl was sort of cute. It doesn’t matter who she was; she didn’t deserve this.

She resolved to wait until the other two men returned to the truck so that she could kill them in revenge. . .

A short time later, two of Nick’s men – including the man she’d held hostage earlier – came around to the back of the truck. She was waiting for them in the cargo hold, her well-traveled 9mm in her deadly hands. Now you’re mine . . .

Without a word and in the blink of an eye, her gun blazed forth. She gunned down one of the men. The other, her hostage, was stunned. He froze.

"Don’t move; put up your hands." She stepped down from the truck and reached into the man’s jacket to remove his gun. "Haven’t we done this before?" she asked.

"We thought you were gone. We were going to load up this truck and get the hell out of here. You got Nick; you got what you were after! Why the hell did you come back?"

"I never left. I happened across your dirty, little deed back here as I made my escape." She kept the black weapon aimed ominously at the man’s head. "Do you guys think it’s fun to go around killing young girls?" She motioned to the truck driver.

"I didn’t do it," he protested. "It was Gary’s idea!"

"Gary’s dead now, so don’t blame him." She waved the gun slightly. "Where should I shoot you? The head? The neck? The balls?"

"You’re a hired killer! How could you be pissed off about the girl? Because . . ."

"It’s partially revenge for the girl," she answered. "But it’s also just for the fun of it. You see, I get this perverted pleasure out of watching men squirm before I kill them." She was only partially joking – deep down within, her vocation stirred a strange desire.

He looked at her in wide-eyed amazement. She told him to get in the truck.

Inside the cargo hold, she made him stand against the wall.

The man pleaded with her. "Let’s just call this off, okay? You got what you wanted . . . now go and collect the money. I’m no boss in this organization; it doesn’t do you any good to shoot me."

"It’s not just about the money," she said. "I told you; it’s about the thrill." Playing up the part, she smiled at him as she ran a hand through her dark, black-brown hair. "I’m getting hot just thinking about it! All those dumb, hapless men! I must’ve blown away at least twenty of them today. What an adrenaline rush this day’s been."

He didn’t know what to do. He eyed one of the boxes, thinking he might throw one at her, but she saw where his gaze landed.

"No! Don’t even think about it. Your friend tossed one of those at my chest and just about knocked me down a whole cup size."

She sat down on one of the boxes. "You know, I never get to spend this much time with my victims. I’m usually in such a hurry. It’s kill or be killed in this business."

"Why don’t you just get it over with, then!" he shouted at her. "STOP FUCKING WITH ME AND JUST DO IT!"

"Oooh, touched a nerve, I see!" She laughed. "You don’t like this anticipation, this waiting, longing, and lingering, do you? That’s just like a man. They always want to do everything quick and dirty. A woman needs to take her time. This is my foreplay."

She anticipated exactly what he would do next and aimed her gun accordingly.

The man, enraged and desperate, flung one of the boxes at her and charged her. She dodged the package and squeezed the trigger. Thhnk – the shot hit him directly in the groin. He stumbled backwards, the momentum of the impact stopping his advance. He grabbed himself and screamed in pain, then fell to the floor, writhing in agony.

She stood next to the man. "What a great shot! Sorry about that. Normally I don’t like to be this cruel, but after all I’ve been through today, it only seems fair. Besides, you wouldn’t believe it, but this is making me so . . . fucking . . . horny!" She kicked him with her foot and rolled him onto his back. This sadistic streak was a surprise to her, and she was having fun playing with it. She reached down, pulled up the hemline of her dress, and began to touch herself. "Are you all warm and fuzzy down here between your legs, because I sure am!"

She gripped her gun more tightly now. She felt her brightly polished fingernails pressing against the grip and thought, This is taking me right to the edge! You’re one sick cookie, Maria. She looked down at her prey. "Don’t worry, poor guy. It’s almost over for you. I’ve enjoyed being in control."

He couldn’t acknowledge her; all he could manage to do was clutch himself and moan.

She stepped down from the truck and onto the pavement. She took the gun in both hands and aimed it at the prostrate man.

In her sexiest, softest purr she said to him, "You know, I always like to say that the only thing one should hear after the sound of gunfire is the sound of high heels clicking against the ground, growing ever distant. Here; listen."

Thhnk.

The smoke hung in the air; the click of her high-heeled boots echoed off the buildings in the alley as she walked away.