chsdbacks Chapter 312: First Assassination, Brigantine
Chapter 312: First Assassination, Brigantine
Killcam painfully coughed up a thick glob of blood.She was buried beneath a heavy pile of rubble, entirely surrounded by the shattered, smoking remains of her drone swarm. The explosive pulsar wave from earlier had completely disabled them, rendering her high-tech arsenal into useless junk.
"Türa... kurat! Puta... raisk!"
Killcam spat blood and cussed the hardest she could.
"I hate this entire fucking city! I don’t get paid enough for this garbage! Ghost didn’t say anything about those bastard R-Rated heroes being involved in this shit!"
She always avoided their kind.
They were always so unhinged and unpredictable.
The only difference between R-Rated superheroes and supervillains was that one wasn’t intentionally trying to kill the entire population. That didn’t mean they weren’t doing a damn good job doing it by mistake.
Groaning, Killcam used her remaining strength to push a heavy slab of drywall off her wounded body. As she blinked through the dust, she noticed a small crowd of local passersby staring down at her with judgmental eyes.
"What the fuck are you looking at?!"
Killcam spat at them like it’d actually hit them.
A mother standing nearby quietly pulled her young child closer like Killcam was a virus.
"Mommy, what’s wrong with that woman’s eyes?"
"That’s what happens when you don’t go to bed early and focus on your studies, sweetie."
"Wow... she’s so freaky..."
"Mhm! Let’s go!"
The mother and daughter hurried off.
"Screw you, American!"
Killcam screamed after them so hard her beautiful face turned red with rage. But that just made her look like some clinically insane vagrant to them.
"Tch. Fuck this..."
Killcam cursed again as she continued to heave a chunk of concrete off her leg.
That was when a cool shadow came over her.
She paused, looking up through her one normal eye.
Ghost was standing right above her. His hands were deep in the pockets of his overcoat and he had a very serene and unbothered smile on his face.
"What’re you looking at, pretty boy?" Killcam hissed.
Ghost tilted his head as he looked down at her.
"You look like a total mess. Hm, they really did a number on you, didn’t they...?"
Killcam painfully shifted her body under the debris as her perfectly white teeth grinded.
"Can you fucking get me outta here first?!"
Ghost nodded, dropping to his knees. Without a single hint of strain, he began lifting the heavy concrete blocks off her body. He scooped her up and properly placed her against a large boulder nearby so she could rest.
Unlike most assassins in the business, Ghost wasn’t a gym rat, though he maintained a perfectly lean, athletic build. Still, he was able to carry her someplace way more comfy without any difficulties.
That was mostly because Killcam was a woman crazily obsessed with her looks. She constantly took weight loss pills and lived at the gym to maintain her figure... which, coincidentally, made her much better at her job and made cruising on a jetpack a breeze.
Most assassins lived like that.
Ghost, however, simply wasn’t built that way.
He preferred killing with minimal effort, a style that suited his stealthy, phase-shifting ability.
"Thanks..."
Killcam muttered reluctantly, wiping her brow.
Then her expression soured again.
"I know you hate any kind of direct confrontation with the target, and that’s why you sent me to start things off... but you could’ve at least done your fucking homework! You didn’t tell me that bastard gang of misfit heroes were gonna be here dammit!"
Ghost just shrugged with an innocent smile.
"I didn’t know either. That’s exactly why I sent you."
Killcam’s normal eye narrowed to a razor-thin slit.
"You son of a bitch."
Ghost stood back up, stretching his arms high into the air before slotting them right back into his overcoat pockets. He crouched down once more and leaned in close to get a good look at her bruised face.
"You really do have a beautiful face. Are all Estonian women like this, or are you just the exception?"
Killcam spat a mouthful of blood directly at his face.
But Ghost didn’t even flinch. He simply turned intangible for a brief second, and the bloody spit passed right through his head, splashing harmlessly onto the boulder behind him.
The whole thing thoroughly annoyed Killcam, but despite herself, her cheeks flushed a faint shade of red from the compliment. She looked away, huffing.
"I forgot about your shitty, cowardly ability. Flattery will get you nowhere with me. Not now that I know you just used me to clear the path so you could take all the friggin’ money for yourself! Bastard!"
Her cheeks were still shamefully red.
Ghost chuckled as he turned tangible again.
"Get all the money to myself? You’re barely walking out of here with your life, and you’re still talking about money? Are you really this dumb? Yunno, you’re not really helping other blonde girls out there beat the allegations."
He held his face in his hand, laughing quietly at the utter foolishness of the woman before him.
Embarrassment poured all over Killcam.
She gnashed her teeth.
"None of the top assassins go after each other! Why would you want to do something so—"
"Top assassins?"
Ghost cut her off with a face full of disgust.
"It’s actually so hilarious how outdated that leaderboard list is. I’m positive you wouldn’t even make the top twenty right now. You’re basically just Trickshot with extra steps and pair of plastic breasts."
To emphasize his point, he casually slapped her left breast and laughed at how rigid they were.
Killcam went completely ballistic.
Thick veins began popping out across the sides of her forehead, and she frowned so deeply you could very well count every wrinkle on her face.
But at the same time she wanted to cry.
『This jerk... I hate him...』
Tears threatened to spill from her one normal eye.
Ghost jerked back playfully and placed his hands up like he was terrified.
"Ooo~ your botox is failing... so scary, ahaha!"
The blonde assassin boiled with a rage so intense her vision blurred. To be mocked like this, to have her body and her rank ridiculed by this smiling arrogant bastard...
"You’ll get what’s coming to you! I’ll fucking kill you!"
Ghost turned his right hand entirely intangible as he tilted his head with a condescending smile.
"Don’t be so dramatic. I just don’t like working with people unless they agree to be my dog. And honestly? You did your part wonderfully."
If Killcam could grab her Flash Sniper right now, she’d have blown his skull into a million pieces. But the pulsar explosion left her paralyzed; the only part of her body she could move was her head, leaving her completely helpless as this sick man laughed in her face.
"You piece of shit, I’ll tear your eyes out! I’ll—"
Suddenly, Killcam hooked, choking on her own words as a sickening pain flared in her abdomen.
She looked down.
Ghost’s pale, intangible hand was buried deep inside her stomach like it was a pit.
Her eyes went wide and she screamed:
"AAAAaaaGGgggHHHHHhh!"
"Shh, shh..."
Ghost whispered gently, leaning in close.
"You don’t always gotta be so noisy. Isn’t that the whole point of being an assassin? Well, I think."
He casually began dragging his semi-tangible arm out of her stomach from the side.
It was slow, painful and sickening...
As his arm pulled free, it took her guts and a horrific mess of internal organs with it, spilling them out onto the ground like a bright red sloshy dispenser.
"AaaAAAARRrrggGghh—!!"
Killcam let out a blood-curdling, overwhelming scream of pure agony and her body convulsed as Ghost continued to pull more of her insides out into the open air.
When her screams became breathless gurgles, Ghost got up to his feet. He looked down at his hand. They were totally clean, spotless, and neat, as if he hadn’t just reached inside a human being a moment ago.
"Okay."
Ghost muttered, adjusting his collar.
"Now to find the star of the show..."
...
Meanwhile.
Scott had somehow managed to stuff a horribly vomiting Jackpot, an unconscious Maya, and the unconscious twin girls into the cramped backseat of his GT-R. He hit the gas and blasted out of Atlantic City, heading directly north up the Garden State Parkway.
Following a string of messy directions, they crossed the bridge over the marina district and arrived at a quiet island community just north of the city.
Brigantine.
The only problem was the drive itself.
Throughout the entire trip, Jackpot was puking up streams of live, wriggling earthworms.
"Turn here and—bleeegghhh!"
Jackpot wailed, leaning her head out the passenger window and hacking up a cluster of worms.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Go left at the light then—huuuoorgggh!"
It was so profoundly disgusting that Scott was actively gagging, steering the wheel with one hand while trying not to look at the passenger side.
Dark Elf blinked blankly as she sat comfortably in the back next to the unconscious girls.
"...Do you want me to drive...?"
She asked with those unbothered eyes of hers.
"You don’t even know how to drive!"
Scott yelled over the sound of another wet retch.
Dark Elf gave a lifeless, indifferent shrug.
"I can try..."
"No way in hell!"
Scott screamed back, bracing himself and enduring the painful horror of Jackpot’s supernatural hangover for the rest of the miles.
At some point, the volume of worm-vomiting seemed to make Jackpot loop right around into feeling like some utterly wasted boozer. She started laughing hysterically, as if she were totally high, and began leaning over to disturb Scott while he was trying to navigate the dark roads.
"Hey... hey, kid..."
Jackpot slurred, poking his shoulder.
"If a-, a uh... if a tomato is a fruit... does that mean ketchup is a smoothie?"
Scott, who’d entirely given up on trying to maintain any form of authority or strictness, stared ahead with half-lidded eyes and a flat face.
"Yes. And salsa is a fruit salad. Please sit back."
"Woah..."
Jackpot gasped like a newborn.
She giggled, leaning closer.
"Okay, okay."
She adjusted her tight bra strap.
"If you choke a Smurf... what color does it turn?"
"Light pink. Now please stop moving, you’re hovering over the gear shift and everything..."
"You’re so smart, oh my god!"
Jackpot laughed and slapped his arm before her face shifted into a much softer look.
Scott could barely see the center console with her her big breasts were bouncing around. She wore a bra and yet it still felt like she wasn’t wearing anything to strap down those fat monsters on her chest.
Jackpot snuggled closer to him.
"Hey... you know Pulsar is like... so awesome, right? She’s the reason me and basically every R-Rated hero I know are actually proud of who we are. She’s a real one."
Scott’s ears perked up.
Despite the ton of crap, he felt a spark of interest.
"What do you mean by that? How did Maya—"
"HUUUOOORRRGGGHHH!"
Jackpot turned and projectile-vomited a large swarm of live worms directly across Scott’s chest and the entire driver’s side dashboard.
Scott didn’t shout. He didn’t even shake. He just kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel as his face returned to a frozen, flat, entirely defeated expression.
"You know what? That one’s on me." ಠ_ಠ
Jackpot just wiped her chin, ignoring the biohazard she’d just created, and leaned over him again.
"Hey... is Maya your boyfriend? Wait, no, girlfriend, right? ’Cause you’re the one with the dick. Haha! Oh yeah, oh yeah... how long is your dick anyway?"
Scott ignored her, staring fixedly at the road.
"Is it like... average? Or do you got a real fat jackpot down there? Ehehe, see what I did there?"
She poked his ribs.
"Come on, kid, share with the class already. How many inches we talking?"
Scott remained silent.
Dark Elf just stared out the window, entirely ignoring the conversation.
Suddenly, Jackpot’s chest heaved again as a wet sound built up in her throat.
"HUUURGH—!"
Both Scott and Dark Elf visibly jerked in their seats and braced for impact.
But Jackpot just swallowed hard, holding it down, and burst into a loud, slurred laugh.
"Aha... ha... haaa... got you guys!"
She pat Scott head like he was her little son.
"I didn’t—BLEEEERRGGGHHH!"
And she actually did vomit all over Scott this time.
By the time they finally pulled into the parking lot of a sketchy, rundown motel in Brigantine, Scott was running on pure survival instinct.
He climbed out the GT-R with a dead face, casually wiping a few stray, wriggling worms off his pants like it was nothing more than lint. He had zero energy left.
Dark Elf hopped out of the back and looked around the empty, foggy parking lot.
"So, what next?"
"I’m taking a fucking shower." Scott frowned.
He reached into the back and hoisted the unconscious twin girls over each of his shoulders. Dark Elf easily scooped up Maya, carrying her over her own shoulders. Jackpot stumbled out of the passenger side, her footsteps heavy and drunken as she swayed on her heels.
"Hey..."
Jackpot mumbled, looking around with bleary eyes.
"I wonder if they got any alcohol here..."
"Sigh~ You’re the one who gave me the directions to this specific place."
Scott muttered, walking toward the lobby.
"Shouldn’t you know that?"
He shook his head disappointedly.
Jackpot blinked, then let out a loud, ringing laugh.
"Oh yeah! That’s true! Haha!"
"God help me..." Scott whispered, pinching his nose.
They pushed open the glass door to the motel lobby.
A dead-eyed, exhausted-looking female receptionist sat behind the counter, barely looking up as the bell jingled.
Scott forced a weak, awkward smile, leaning against the desk while carrying two unconscious girls.
"Hey there. Just looking for a room where me and... and my... uh, sisters can rest up for the night."
The receptionist stared at him with vacant eyes.
"Those aren’t your sisters."
Scott chuckled nervously, his eyes tight.
"Uhh... it’s a religious thing. Ehehe..."
The receptionist slowly let her gaze drift over the group standing behind him.
First, there was Dark Elf.
The caramel-skinned girl with dull red eyes was wearing a cropped hoodie that put a flat, insanely toned stomach on display... one sexier than a belly dancer’s. Her cargo pants were slipping so low on her large hips that the prominent strings of her panties were attractively visible.
Then her eyes moved to Jackpot.
The tall, striking woman with a vintage slot machine fused to her arm was dressed like an absolute slut. Her white sequin showgirl dress was pushed so low her large breasts were spilling over the fabric and showed off way more than just standard cleavage.
Between her messy, jagged wolf cut and the euphoric dazed expression on her face, the receptionist immediately assumed Scott had just finished sleeping with her in the backseat of his sports car.
Finally, she looked at the three petite unconscious girls being carried like sacks of potatoes. The immediate conclusion was that Scott had gone so buck wild on them during "activities" that they had all passed out cold.
The dead-eyed woman sighed as she leaned her chin on her chubby hand.
"Look. I wish I could say you’re a pimp, but I’m pretty sure you’re not. To be fucking honest with you, I really don’t give a rat’s ass who you are."
Scott’s smile stayed frozen on his face and his eyes were shut tight. A deep urge flitted through his mind. Looking at this woman’s gloomy, miserable face made him hungry to readjust her expression with a swift, legendary backhand slap.
Instead, he took a deep breath.
"Can we just get a room with a working television?"
He already knew these types of shady coastal motels barely had good reception, much less a functioning TV, so it was better to put the request out now.
"Sure..."
The receptionist said flatly.
"But that’s gonna cost you double."
Scott chuckled, flashing the most charming smile he had in his entire repertoire.
He leaned in slightly.
"How ’bout now?"
He felt something small crawling in his hair and stylishly swatted a stray earthworm onto the floor, then cleared his throat.
"How ’bout n—"
"Double or nothing, fuckboy."
The woman cut him off without a hint of emotion.
Scott’s smile turned into a deep frown. He reached into his pocket, fished out a wad of crumpled cash, and slammed it hard onto the plastic counter between them.
The receptionist smiled, picking up the cash and sliding a plastic room key across the desk.
"Have a nice day."
"Fuck you."
...
Soon, it was evening.
The motel room was quiet.
Scott was currently in the bathroom, letting the scalding hot water wash away the filth of the day. He’d intentionally left the main bedroom to the girls so they could unpack and figure out who was showering next.
Knock, knock.
Scott blinked through the steam, turning his head toward the bathroom door.
"Hm?"
The knock came again, louder this time.
"Hm? Someone’s in here!"
Scott called out, scrubbing shampoo into his hair.
SLAM.
The bathroom door flew wide open anyway.
Scott froze under the shower head as Jackpot strolled into the steamy room. She had a lit cigarette dangling from her rosy lips and a half-empty bottle of dark rum clutched in her slender hand.
And she was buck naked.
Without a single stitch of clothing on, her big F-cup boobs bounced wildly with every step she took like untamed animals and the fully exposed vivid pinkness of her pretty nipples were just an added bonus.
Scott stared at her, utterly paralyzed as the water ran down his face.
What the hell did this crazy woman want now?