Murderous

Rage

Stella, so filled with fury, could barely dial the right number on the old landline phone. When she managed to do it right, she tapped her toes anxiously.

Stella: Come on! Pick up, you lowlife imp bastard!

She could hear him, the assassin, pick up the phone and take a breath.

Striker: Hello, ma'am. So, what is it?

Stella: What is it? What is it!? Why is that deadbeat not dead yet!?

Striker: Look. Lady. These things take time. You gotta wait for the right opportunity. Everything has to be just right.

Stella: And they have been! I didn't convince that cheating prick to walk around in the open so you could fail to kill him with TWO falling pianos!

Striker: Two? Damn, these thugs are idiots.

Stella: What thugs!? Have you been hiring other jackasses to do the job I paid you to do!?

Striker: Relax, ma'am. It's under control. I paid them with cash from your advance payment. I'm not expecting anything more from you besides what I'm already gonna get when the job is done. And I didn't pay them much. You'd be surprised how many hayseeds are willing to suddenly lose control of a steamroller or drop a piano on someone for a few dollars.

Stella growled. She had to admit that made sense. However...

Stella: Oh well that explains it. You being a wanted man and all. This all seems like a solid plan. Except for one tiny detail. You can't kill royalty with fucking pianos!

Striker: Well, yes, you can. Just not permanently.

Stella: Listen you little smartass! You still have an angel weapon! So stop fucking about and use it!

Striker: Let me finish! The jackoffs I hired aren't supposed to kill him permanently. Just kill him long enough for me to track him down to one location where I can sneak in and put a bullet in his head myself. A hospital, hopefully. I know how to get to a patient, usually involves greasing a few hands. If you brought him back to your palace though... that'd work so much better.

Stella: Look, if you can't do this yourself, maybe you should stop using those brainless dickheads and hire someone worth a damn!

Striker: Yeah, well, most competent folk ask questions. They get too invested in the details. The brainless goons I paid were meant to be easily disposable. If I hired another hitman, I'd have to off them. And unlike the weak id-jits I hired, they'd know not to put their head right in the guillotine. I'd be right back at step one. Finding a way to track and kill a demon without being spotted. There can't be any loose ends.

As much as she hated to admit it, Striker's explanations made perfect sense to her.

Stella: You... you... fucking damn it! Fine! But if you can't kill him or find someone who can, kiss your ass goodbye! I don't like being cheated! I have connections, you hear me! You'll be a dead man!

Striker: Don't threaten me you- !

Striker cleared his throat.

Striker: You don't need to worry, your highness. Your husband's gonna die, I'll make sure of it. So don't rush me. You've waited a long time for this opportunity, so you can wait a while longer.

Stella: I won't warn you again! Do whatever you need to do! Just kill him, or you're dead!

Striker: Whatever you say, your highness. I'll kill him. And I'll have a new plan of attack ready.

Striker slammed the phone down onto the receiver.

Striker: And I won't leave any loose ends. Blue blooded bitch.