RobBanBur90
Cold Hands, Warm Score
The only sound in the car was the snap of gloves over skin. Tina yanked her black nitrile gloves tight, jaw clenched, ponytail sharp against her neck as she shot a look at Lana. “Ready to work,” she muttered with a cold smirk.
Lana lounged back, putting a black silencer into her pockets. “Let’s make it quick. I hate wasting time,” she murmured, dark eyes glittering with anticipation.
Outside, under the pale glow of the porch light, they moved — tight blue jeans, black boots, hands buried deep in jacket pockets. They cut across the yard like two dark blades, slipping through the back without a sound.
Inside, the flicker of a TV lit the living room. The old woman sat on the couch, thin hands wrapped around a teacup, eyes glazed on some late-night show.
They effortlessly jumped over a small fence that led directly into the garden. Tina began to quietly pry open the patio door while Lana stood behind her, scanning the area. The door was open, and both of them silently stepped inside.
Tina was in three strides she was behind the old lady — one gloved hand snapping over her mouth, the other wrenching the teacup from her grip and letting it smash to the floor. The woman let out a muffled shriek, trembling violently.
“Shhhh,” Tina hissed against her ear, voice dripping poison. “Make another sound and I’ll snap your neck, you stupid old bitch.”
Lana leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, smiling as if watching a show. “Look at that cunt. Scared shitless.”
With sharp, efficient movements, Tina pulled a strip of duct tape from her jacket, slapping it over the woman’s mouth. The old woman whimpered, eyes wide and wet.
“Up,” Tina snapped, yanking her by the thinning white hair. The woman stumbled, feet scraping against the floor as Tina dragged her toward the hallway. “Let’s take this little cow to her pen.”
Lana followed, eyes gleaming with wicked delight. “Damn, Tina. Good Job”
Tina laughed under her breath. “You know me, baby. Gotta have some fun.”
In the bedroom, Tina shoved the woman into a chair, pressing a gloved hand hard over her mouth again as she barked, “Stay. Fucking. Quiet.”
Lana glided in behind, twisting the silencer onto her gun with a soft click-click. “Ready for cleanup when you are.”
Tina pointed at the wall safe,“Jackpot!”
She ripped the tape off the old lady’s mouth. “What’s the damn code to your fucking safe?!” The old lady cried and, with her last bit of strength, whispered the four digits.
She opened the safe, spat over her shoulder, shoving stacks of cash into her bag. “Bet you’ve been sitting on this for decades.”
Lana stood nearby, legs slightly apart, gun raised, the old woman bound and trembling in the chair.
“Nighty-night, grandma.”
Pfft.
The body slumped, head tilted. Lana exhaled slowly, lowering the pistol. Tina turned with a feral grin. “Nice shot, baby.”
Outside, the air was crisp and electric. They walked from the house, adrenaline humming under their skin. Tina shot Lana a sideways grin. “Told you it’d be fun.”
Lana smirked, tucking her gun into her jacket. “Dumb old bitch never saw it coming.”
In the car, the engine purred as they sped through the empty streets, yellow streetlights streaking across the windshield like war paint. Tina flicked open a lighter, the flame dancing as she lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then passed it to Lana.
“Did you see her face?” Tina laughed, voice hoarse with the afterburn of adrenaline. “Like a fucking deer in headlights.”
Lana took the cigarette between two gloved fingers, lips curving into a cold grin. “Yeah. And the way she pissed herself when you grabbed her? Classic.”
Tina barked a sharp laugh. “Dumb old bitch probably thought we’d let her live.” She shook her head, exhaling smoke through a smirk. “People like her? They’re just… practice.”
Lana leaned back in her seat, watching the cigarette glow between her fingers. “You know,” she murmured, “I think I liked that one.” She chuckled softly. “She was… dramatic.”
They traded the cigarette back and forth, windows cracked just enough to let the smoke curl into the night.
Cold Hands, Warm Score
The only sound in the car was the snap of gloves over skin. Tina yanked her black nitrile gloves tight, jaw clenched, ponytail sharp against her neck as she shot a look at Lana. “Ready to work,” she muttered with a cold smirk.
Lana lounged back, putting a black silencer into her pockets. “Let’s make it quick. I hate wasting time,” she murmured, dark eyes glittering with anticipation.
Outside, under the pale glow of the porch light, they moved — tight blue jeans, black boots, hands buried deep in jacket pockets. They cut across the yard like two dark blades, slipping through the back without a sound.
Inside, the flicker of a TV lit the living room. The old woman sat on the couch, thin hands wrapped around a teacup, eyes glazed on some late-night show.
They effortlessly jumped over a small fence that led directly into the garden. Tina began to quietly pry open the patio door while Lana stood behind her, scanning the area. The door was open, and both of them silently stepped inside.
Tina was in three strides she was behind the old lady — one gloved hand snapping over her mouth, the other wrenching the teacup from her grip and letting it smash to the floor. The woman let out a muffled shriek, trembling violently.
“Shhhh,” Tina hissed against her ear, voice dripping poison. “Make another sound and I’ll snap your neck, you stupid old bitch.”
Lana leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, smiling as if watching a show. “Look at that cunt. Scared shitless.”
With sharp, efficient movements, Tina pulled a strip of duct tape from her jacket, slapping it over the woman’s mouth. The old woman whimpered, eyes wide and wet.
“Up,” Tina snapped, yanking her by the thinning white hair. The woman stumbled, feet scraping against the floor as Tina dragged her toward the hallway. “Let’s take this little cow to her pen.”
Lana followed, eyes gleaming with wicked delight. “Damn, Tina. Good Job”
Tina laughed under her breath. “You know me, baby. Gotta have some fun.”
In the bedroom, Tina shoved the woman into a chair, pressing a gloved hand hard over her mouth again as she barked, “Stay. Fucking. Quiet.”
Lana glided in behind, twisting the silencer onto her gun with a soft click-click. “Ready for cleanup when you are.”
Tina pointed at the wall safe,“Jackpot!”
She ripped the tape off the old lady’s mouth. “What’s the damn code to your fucking safe?!” The old lady cried and, with her last bit of strength, whispered the four digits.
She opened the safe, spat over her shoulder, shoving stacks of cash into her bag. “Bet you’ve been sitting on this for decades.”
Lana stood nearby, legs slightly apart, gun raised, the old woman bound and trembling in the chair.
“Nighty-night, grandma.”
Pfft.
The body slumped, head tilted. Lana exhaled slowly, lowering the pistol. Tina turned with a feral grin. “Nice shot, baby.”
Outside, the air was crisp and electric. They walked from the house, adrenaline humming under their skin. Tina shot Lana a sideways grin. “Told you it’d be fun.”
Lana smirked, tucking her gun into her jacket. “Dumb old bitch never saw it coming.”
In the car, the engine purred as they sped through the empty streets, yellow streetlights streaking across the windshield like war paint. Tina flicked open a lighter, the flame dancing as she lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then passed it to Lana.
“Did you see her face?” Tina laughed, voice hoarse with the afterburn of adrenaline. “Like a fucking deer in headlights.”
Lana took the cigarette between two gloved fingers, lips curving into a cold grin. “Yeah. And the way she pissed herself when you grabbed her? Classic.”
Tina barked a sharp laugh. “Dumb old bitch probably thought we’d let her live.” She shook her head, exhaling smoke through a smirk. “People like her? They’re just… practice.”
Lana leaned back in her seat, watching the cigarette glow between her fingers. “You know,” she murmured, “I think I liked that one.” She chuckled softly. “She was… dramatic.”
They traded the cigarette back and forth, windows cracked just enough to let the smoke curl into the night.