The Social Media Murder Corp

by Stephen Signorelli

  “What is the climbing potential in there?”

  “Unknown, but if its anything like a typical warehouse there will be a lot of stuff we can use.”

  “We can improvise that, we are good at improvising.”

  “Oh my God totally, we are really improvisational. Once we get to the top we kill the elite bodyguard then the boss. Then we blow the warehouse and all that drug shit to hell, then we get the fuck out of here.”

  “You are so cute when you curse.”

  “Aww, you’re sweet.”

  “These sonsofbitches are about to have the hammer of God dropped on their drug dealing asses, courtesy of us!”

  “Totally, soon they will be in hell, and balance will be achieved.”

  “Before we start I forgot to ask, we DID leave Mr. Fluffywoogums enough food for a few days right?”

  Back at the house, Mr. Fluffywoogums stared angrily at a stack of unopened cat food tins and hissed an angry hiss.

  “Oh yeah totally, I left like 10 tins of food for him.”

  “Danger, did you OPEN the tins?”

  Danger gave a blank stare at her sister then threw her hands in the air.

  “MOTHERFUCKER!” she cried out.

  Destruction shook her head in disbelief.

  “He is going to be even MORE pissed off when we get home.”

  The twins gathered up their weapons and put on their masks. Adjusting their robes they looked at each other.

  “Comm units only now, ready Danger?”

  “Ready Destruction.”

  “We must achieve balance.”

  “Balance must be achieved.”

  “The universe speaks to me.”

  “It speaks to me too.”

  Silently, the twins went their separate ways and got into position.

  The shootout

  “Carlos you got a light?”

  “Yeah here, take the lighter, I quit.”

  “Eh? You quit smoking Carlos?”

  “Yeah, I saw this website where they show lungs that are filled with cancer, I don’t want that shit.”

  “Fuck it Carlos, we are all gonna die sometime, especially in this line of work eh?”

  “I’d rather die in a gunfight then in a hospital bed weighing 95 fucking pounds because of cancer, fuck that Chico.”

  “Hey I know man, my Uncle Ramon, he died of cancer man, I know it ain’t pretty.”

  The two hired thugs looked at the night sky.

  “Not like the sky in Bogota eh Chico?”

  “No man, not like it at all. Hey, you still fucking that little chica Elisa man? You know, the one with the big old titties?”

  “Yeah, you know it, every chance I get when we are back home.”

  “Hey man, you think maybe she got a friend or sister for me?”

  “She got a 15 year old sister, I can hook you up if that ain’t too young.”

  “Pussy is pussy man, you know it?”

  “I know it.”

  “Fuck I got to take a piss.”

  “Well don’t piss in front of me man, I don’t wanna see your cock. Go piss over in the corner.”

  “You never seen anything this big man, I’ll be right back.”

  “Ain’t no one wants to see you little friend man! HA!”

  Carlos walked to the corner of the container and unzipped his pants and started to piss.

  “Fuck this cold night air, shrinkage my ass.”

  He died pissing, a dagger slicing his throat open, spilling his blood onto the ground.

  Chico smoked his cigarette and looked up at the sky again.

  “Fuck you ET.”

  His next thought was interrupted by a blade thrust through his heart, he died never seeing his killer, his body slumped to the ground.

  “Two down, moving in to right perimeter.”

  “Ok, headed left. Guess you got the first kills this time Destruction.”

  The twins silently made their way around the containers. Danger silently moved into position and surveyed the scene. Before her were two more thugs, but these two seemed to be taking their jobs seriously. Thinking for a moment, she unsheathed two more throwing daggers and knelt down. She stared at the two men for a few moments then put a dagger in each hand. She watched them for a few more moments and then, in a flash, she ran directly towards them. The men barely registered her approach due to the darkness, and in the instant that they did see her and raised their guns, the two daggers flew through the air and impaled into their throats, both men collapsing to the ground dead.

  But fate decided to intervene and make things interesting.

  As one of the thugs fell and died, his gun went off, signaling everyone in the area that they now had a fight on their hands.

  “Fuck me we are made!” Danger said into her comm unit.

  “Go to plan B, burn this place to the ground,” Destruction replied.

  Inside the warehouse the Big Boss, Juan “The Biter” Sanchez, sneered.

  “Looks like we have some guests, kill them, bring me their heads.”

  His Lieutenant shouted into his walkie talkie to the guards outside.

  “We have intruders, flush them out, kill them, let no one into the warehouse.”

  The warning barked out on every walkie talkie in the warehouse area. Every man readied himself, steeling against an unknown and unseen enemy or enemies now ruthlessly hunting them down.

  “Hey Jose, what the fuck is going on?”

  “Fuck me man I don’t know, what the fuck no one is supposed to be here!!”

  “Fuck me this-what the fuck is that? OH FUCK ME!”

  The grenade went off, blowing Jose and his comrade to shreds, their guts and blood splattering against the side of the container. As they died, the two men around the corner from them panicked and whirled around, guns blazing at the noise of the explosion, and cutting to pieces two more cartel thugs who had been rounding the other corner.

  “OH FUCK that was Rico and that little shit owed me money!”

  “Hey man, fuck that guy, he ain’t gonna pay you back now man!”

  Danger dropped from the top of the container and landed between the two shocked men.

  “HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK IS-“

  The two men died as Danger blasted them point blank with .50 caliber bullets of death from her Desert Eagle. Wordlessly, she held out a retractable stalk with a small mirror on it, she surveyed the scene around the corner, spying four men, their guns ready to shoot anyone coming around the corner. Danger, reached into her robe and threw a green smoke grenade to the top of the container to indicate to Destruction where the men were.

  “Hey man what the fuck is that green smoke shit!’

  “Fuck man, it’s a signal, get ready!”

  “Anyone coming around that corner shoot first and ask questions later ok?’

  “Yeah fill em with lead man!”

  “Hey what the fuck is that noise man?”

  The four men looked up and saw Destruction waving at them from the top of the container. She leapt off as a small explosion knocked the container over. They started wide eyed as the container fell on top of them, crushing them into goo.

  Inside the warehouse the main boss listened to the killings on their walkie talkies.

  “Who the fuck is out there? It sounds like a goddamn SEAL team.”

  “Were we made by the military? Jesus Christ what if it is the military out there?”

  “Calm the fuck down it’s not military there is NO com chatter. There are a few of them, no more, mercs or something, maybe those Yakuza fuckers from Los Angeles felt like throwing down.”

  “Whoever the fuck they are they are killing a lot of our men boss.”

  “Expendable grunts, who cares, I can recruit twice as many in 2 hours in Bogota. So fucking what.”

  “The boss is right, let whoever they are waste their ammo and energy killing those cannon fodder we have outside, once they get here, we will tear them apart.”

  “Ramon.”

/>   “Yes boss?”

  “If they get in here, do whatever you have to, understand?”

  “I got it boss.”

  Outside the twins were making short work out the Cartel grunts.

  “Shit shit shit, I fucking gave up working in my sister’s ice cream shop for this shit-oh fuck no!!!!”

  The grunt barely had time to mutter a silent prayer before Danger dropped from the shadows behind his and blew the back of his skull off.

  “Danger, sit rep”

  “9 dead, west area clear.”

  “10 dead here, east and south clear. Converge north.”

  “Understood.”

  The North area stood in front of the main entrance to the warehouse. The 6 remaining grunts put their backs to the building and braced themselves. They had one chance: a .50 caliber machine gun mounted to a tripod that was their last line of defense. The men had thrown wooden pallets and any other garbage they could fund to erect a minimal wall to crouch behind.

  “Fuck me we are so dead!”

  “Hey fuck you Riccardo I don’t plan on dying today!”

  “Hey man this is bullshit those fuckers inside haven’t come out to help us, I say we leave now man and save our own asses!”

  “Hey man fuck THAT, what if the boss lives and he finds out we ran? He would hunt us to the end of time. No thanks!”

  “Yeah well at least we could hide, whoever the fuck these fuckers are out there are gonna kill us NOW.”

  “Maybe if we leave they will let us go, I mean c’mon man they are after the boss, not us! Fuck, let them have him!”

  “Hey man fuck that I got a code of honor!”

  “That ain’t gonna do you any good when you are dead Raul!”

  “SHUT UP….listen!”

  The six men got quiet and began to listen.

  “I don’t hear-OH FUCKING JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH!!!!!’

  The 6 grenades rolled towards the makeshift barricade and exploded. The force of the blast shattered the wooden pallets, sending splinters everywhere. Three of the men were killed instantly by the blast, one man, Raul, was hit full force with hundreds of splinters, which tore out his eyes as he screamed in agony. The remaining two were unharmed and they manned the .50 caliber machine gun.

  “Hey fuck you time for you fuckers to die!”

  They men opened fire with the gun, spraying the area directly in front of them with roind after round of .50 caliber bullets. The area in front of them was torn to shreds as the two men screamed and fired over and over. They sprayed left and right in an attempt to kill anything and anyone directly in front of them. The bullets tore through wood, steel, concrete, but no flesh. After a few minutes of constant firing, the gun ran out of ammunition. The two men peered into the smoke filled scene before them.

  “Did we get them?”

  “I don’t know man, maybe.”

  “Fuck it, no one could have survived that.”

  “Oh fuck look at Raul man his eyes!”

  The two men looked down at Raul, his face pierced by dozens of large splinters, both of his eyes torn to shreds.

  “Oh fuck man that sucks, we should get him so help.”

  “Oh man I hope he has Obamacare ACK!”

  The man grabbed his throat and fell over. The remaining thug reached for his gun but it was too late, Danger had already stabbed him in the kidney with her knife and with a push, she nearly cut him in half.

  The twins surveyed the scene and smiled underneath their masks. They looked down at the splinter-faced thug named Raul.

  “Ouch, that looks like it hurts.”

  “Wow yeah, look at all those splinters!”

  “His eyes are totally gouged out, what the fuck that must suck.”

  “Kill me.”

  “What? Did he just ask us to kill him?”

  “He did.”

  “I know you are there, I can’t see you but I know you are there. Kill me, please finish the job. I was a photographer before I got caught up in all this, I will never see another sunset or rainfall or beautiful woman again. I can’t live like that.”

  “I guess we kill him.”

  “Wait, wouldn’t it be worse to let him live as a blind man? I mean, his inner turmoil would torture him for the rest of his life.”

  “Yeah it totally would be worse to let him live. Good idea.”

  Danger reached down and dragged Raul off to the side. She deposited him down onto a wooden pallet. She reached out to him and pulled the splinters from his eyes while he howled in agony. She quickly wrapped his eyes in bandages and propped him up.

  “Please, no,” Raul pleaded weakly.

  “Suffer,” Danger said while smiling under her mask.

  The twins surveyed the warehouse, the next more difficult stage of their mission.

  “They are ready and waiting, that’s why they haven’t come outside.”

  “They sure are confident.”

  “Do we sneak in?”

  “Nah, sometimes the direct approach is more effective, and far more dramatic!”

  Behind the warehouse doors, every gun was aimed on the entrance.

  “So we just charge in guns blazing?”

  “Yup, I would call it suicidal if we weren’t forces of nature.”

  “True. Well, balance must be maintained.”

  “The universe demands it!”

  Destruction threw four grenades at the door, blowing up to pieces.

  Guns drawn, the twins charged in.

  14 years earlier

  “Giancarlo where is Genesis?

  “Hey, you worry about making me money ok? Let me worry about where you whores are!”

  Maria bowed her head in submission and walked back to her room. In the kitchen of the brothel Giancarlo finished eating a sandwich. He knew exactly where Genesis was: dead in an alleyway. Giancarlo had been furious when Genesis informed him she was late, he went nuclear when the pregnancy test came back positive. Genesis was his favorite whore, and his most popular one. She had the rural farm peasant girl look down perfect, because she legitimately WAS one. As a result, she was his most prolific whore.

  Unfortunately that was all ruined now that she was knocked up. Giancarlo would not make her get an abortion, his twisted sense of Catholic morality would not allow it, but he saw no problem with beating Genesis to within an inch of her life and dumping her in an alley. In his mind, he didn’t kill her, she died of her injuries. Giancarlo finished eating and grabbed a bottle of cheap rum from a cabinet. Pouring himself a rum and Coke, he planned to watch soccer the rest of the evening while he mulled over where to find a replacement whore for Genesis.

  The brothel was well known in Tegucigalpa, and not in a positive sense. It had a reputation of having the dirtiest, nastiest, and most obscene whores in this sprawling metropolis. Giancarlo catered largely to the fetish crowd, eager to find an outlet for some heavy BDSM or whatever turned them on. He also had a large and steady clientele of gringo English teachers and missionary types, each of them with their own dark desires.

  The main “prize” was Genesis, and Giancarlo had special rules for her. Condoms every time, no pain or torture, and nothing that could be recorded. The rest of the women in the brothel had no such restrictions, and were regularly abused by their “clients”.

  But now Genesis was gone, a pregnant whore wasn’t any good to anyone. Giancarlo considered keeping her for himself in the hopes she would have a daughter that he could groom for the profession, but the responsibility of raising a child was something he decided he could not be bothered to do. Children, to him, were a burden, good only for menial tasks until they were old enough to fuck.

  Giancarlo took out a joint and lit it, breathing in in deeply. He had lived this life for so long, he barely remembered anything else. He had sort of fallen into being a pimp when he was in high school. He always had been a good talker, and he managed to manipulate women rather easily to have sex with him, and one day it dawned on him to use this to actually make money. Hondu
ras was one of the poorest and most violent countries on Earth, so to make a living was paramount. Giancarlo didn’t have any kids that he knew of or acknowledged, and he didn’t believe in commitment, so he was able to devote himself to building his illicit business.

  On this hot sweltering Honduran night, all Giancarlo wanted to do was drink, get high, and forget about the fact that he beat the shit out of his favorite whore. As he watched TV he noticed the large Rottweiler he named “Taco” lift his head up and stare at the front door.

  “Yo Taco, what the fuck is up with you? Is it that fucking cat again? I’ll catch and skin that fucking bitch one of these days.”

  Taco continued to stare at the front door, a low growl began to emanate from his throat.

  “Taco what the actual fuck! You gonna make me get up now and look? Fucking dog, go hump a chair.”

  Giancarlo got up and walked to the front door, he opened it and peered out into the darkness. The street in front of the brothel was dark and deserted. The local thugs and thieves knew to leave this street alone, and not just because they all got laid here, but because of the hired guns that Giancarlo employed as bouncers.

  “Hey boss what you doing?”

  “Taco hears a cat,” Giancarlo muttered to Lenin, the huge six foot five hired gun now looking out of the door with him.

  “A cat? That same cat that is always out here?”

  “Yeah yeah the noisy one, one day I am gonna skin that cat.”

  Giancarlo closed the door and locked it.

  “Where the fuck are the boys?”

  Lenin smiled.

  “We got a game of bridge going on, it’s bridge night.”

  “What the fuck is it with you guys and bridge? I fucking hired you all as enforcers and guards, and you play bridge like a bunch of old Jewish women.”

  “Not all of us, Oscar plays Magic: The Gathering.”

  Giancarlo blinked twice.

  “Magic? The fucking Gathering? Are you fucking serious?”

  “Yeah boss he is really good with his manna.”

  “Saint fucking Augustine what the fuck?! I don’t- you know what, fuck it, I ain’t even gonna try and understand this shit, as long as you do your job you can play Hello Kitty fucking Island for all I care.”