“Levator Labii Superiorus. Don’t tempt me, you know we’re on the clock.”

She brushed her hand up against her gun and was reminded of the tasks at hand.

The lights flickered as she watched his shadow disappear and reappear.

He flowed as he worked, like a king in his throne, he was right where he needed to be.

The perfect temptation.

“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

She remembered seeing that on one of her victims mugs one time.

She began to recite this, but he interrupted:

“Don’t speak.”

Like a doe in the forest, her eyes spoke of caution, her body swayed only slightly.

“You speak of your cages, yet you provoke the lion in his den. Do you not see that your beauty is your only protector? If it were me out there playing cats and dogs, in an instant the games would cease. With you, it’s flawless. It’s unexpected. They look at you and see magazine covers, not realizing that you hold army knives in your garters. It’s a psycho-potential mockery of every male out there who’s life you end. Yet you sit here, provoking the very man who cleans up your messes.”

Lust is red with fury, her fists itch and her spine rattles.

“What if I decide to no longer colaborate with you? Just one day, up and decide that I’m no longer your anatomical janitor. Hm? What then sweet princess?”

She grabs her duffel bag and an extra pack of ammunition.

“You’ll get a psycho-potential mocking and a goodbye kiss like the rest of them, sweet prince.”

“Oh aren’t you sweet.” he mumbled as he turned around to zip up the rest of the body bags.

He didn’t have time for her provoking, and she was already late.

In an ironic chuckle, she is reminded subtly of what line of work she is in.

She puts out her cigarette in the pot of flowers on the windowsill, no flower ever died of a tobacco overdose now did it.

The silver lines on her knives screamed of impatience as she checked their positioning once more.

The black handle on her scalpel ran lightly through her fingers, much like a small child running through a field of tall grass, only lightly touching the tips.

The white walls of this apartment made Lust consider redecoration. Blood red was, of course, her definite preference. 

At not a moments notice, the creak of the apartment door made its way to Lusts ear.

Quick to react, a gun was pulled from the holster on her waist and directed towards the chest of this poor soul.

If only she could pause that moment to bring herself inches away from this persons face.

To see the pupils dilate and the face muscles contract of fear.

Fear had never been portrayed so beautifully.

She could even see the detailed drops of perspiration flow down the plastically enhanced cheeks of perfection.

This broad had been the typical definition of beautiful, fake acrylic decorations on fingers, false extensions of hair intertwined with bleach blonde assets, and silicone under the skin of both her lips, and breasts.

“Your boy toy is laying dead in the bedroom, if you take my instruction, you may not end up like him.”

Much like a naive little girl, the victims eyes poured with desire of mercy, but Lust was in no such state of mind, her grip on the gun loosened knowing that she had reeled in the bait. 

“You will count your each step and walk into the kitchen. I will follow you simultaneously after which you will lay yourself on the kitchen counter with your lower back laying over the sink.”

As the young woman stepped nervously to the kitchen, Lust grabbed the K-24 Fanno hand saw and watched from the corner of her eye as the bimbo climbed atop the counter.

A knife was placed next to the area in order to be put at the neck of the victim which in turn was forced to take 400 mg of diphenhydramine and became induced in a trance of anesthesia and sleep prone symptoms.

This allowed Lust to work without having to restrain the victim, besides, she always enjoyed a bit of a struggle.

With the same knife, Lust slit the victims vocal cords and was no longer annoyed by the high-pitched yelps the wench made.

At this moment in time, Lust decided to serve her lunch and continue the fun afterwards, yogurt is best served at room temperature anyway.

Apartment #4 had a window out-looking the street, such factors needed to be taken into consideration.

As she used the tension wrench from her case, the slight cracking sound of the door reminded her of her old dusty apartment back home.

The inside smells like lavender, and the pillows on the couch are organized in an obsessive manner.

This person is organized, this person will also know if anything has been changed.

Lust makes sure to make a mess. The more disoriented, the better.

The first victim should be arriving in approximately ten minutes, Lust places the Pb4 in the refrigerator to cool for approximately 3 minutes and prepares her other weapons for the second victim.

Studying the floor plan of the apartment, she chooses her attacking position and takes the Pb4 out of the refrigerator, for a moment a sudden pain in her abdomen makes her motionless, and the victim is surely to arrive any moment.

Clenching her teeth with pain, she proceeds to the position close to the entrance of the master bedroom, inhales, exhales and just as her breath ends, the door clicks.

The bathroom mirror strategically lets her see where he moves, and as she tightens her grip on the hypodermic syringe, she taps it only to mock the circumstances.

Left foot first, she makes her way behind him, the muscles on the back of his neck tighten as he instinctively begins to turn around to see what approaches behind him.

The tender entry of the syringe into his neck requires quite the struggle for her to keep him down but the training proved to be quite the help.

In a matter of 53 seconds his eyes dry out, and because of the poison being a high dose, even his legs still twitch for 5 minutes after death.

Lust lights a cigarette and awaits her next treat.

She asks him to drop her off in front of the Venetian, she will need to stop by there
to grab her check, and then they can proceed to her place.

Not does he know she is not local.

She pulls the hood from her jacket over her hair, which still smells like dye, therefore tickling her sense even more.

One step to the left, three to the right, and two rows of slot machines down the hall, his site of her is lost.

His face was too sweet to be “worked on”.

Although, she was looking forward to using her new scapula.

To cause a bit of stir, she intentionally falls down next to a Crabs table, and also, intentionally walks away with a couple $100 chips in her pocket, she will need them in a few days.

Redefine violence.

She winks at one of the workers at a jewelry store and continues to look around.

Observing every corner, every straight line, and every exit sign, her walk continues.

Four steps to the right, two steps to the left, and three luxurious stores down the hall, the meeting spot makes itself observed.

Female. White Gucci Blanco jacket, with horrid impression of Gianna Versace hair, and lips plump to the fullest.

Lust sits down.

“We’re happy to have you. Dereck has a lot of work for you, what was your name again?”

“Lust. That’s all you need to know. Now give me the location and target, so I can go about my business, and do tell Dereck to fuck himself since I’m still here. He will find it amusing.”

“Ok…Lust was it? Dereck would like you to go to N 5th Street 37792 Apt. 4 and the target is to be eliminated by poison pB4 in a large dose. Dereck also says that you will have to extend your stay at location in order to eliminate the spouse.”

“Pb4 will work for the male, but I will have a little fun with the spouse if I’m sill engaged in the matter.”

“I am not sure Dereck would approve of that, he still has two more jobs you are needed at, and I am sure there is no time for such activities. Dereck would like for you to complete your tasks accordingly.”

Lust leans in close to the young woman’s ear.

Whispering, she informs her:

“My sweet child, look at you, you are the epitome of natural beauty, is being told what to do every minute of every second worth the fake Hermes purse, slobbishly mismatched Manolo Blahniks on your unpedicured toes, and the invaluable Swiss watch? You could be so much better my love. Tell that to Dereck the next time you’re under his desk paying for your cheap Stewart Ave. apartment.”

She enjoys the look on the nameless assistant’s face for what seems like 5 or 6 seconds, and
proceeds to the location.

The stars sparkle their way into her glistening eyes, perhaps tears, she leads the car to the side
of the road.

 The road less traveled, in reality, dementia is welcoming the typical guest.

Take a polaroid and let yourself go.

Swallowing the sweet concoction of carbon monoxide and tobacco she stares above her, by god this universe is quite large.

Numerous smirks and ironic giggles later, she jumps back into the car.

The iced feel to the leather is a reminder of what her soul truly consists.

Cold and bitter, that she could even dare to love is a foolish joke told in cheap bars. 

Her heart will constantly bleed, but her ambition will close the wounds to continue false elucidation. 

A strong break flys its way through the pedals and onto the tires.

Only to realize the mind is playing parcheesi with her eye sight. 

Illusory and scarce, the image only crossed her range of view briefly.

Perhaps an animal, or a lost soul, she continues on to the explicit destination.

Pushing the limits of machinery she will not fill the tank for another 20 miles.

A quick plan is to take place until arrival.

Just a bit of fun, nothing more.