Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Fucked

Happy Hump Day, crime fucksters! Are you ready to take a hardboiled, no-holds-barred trip straight to hell? Then come on over to the dark side, where the drinks are cold, the chicks are hot, and the action is smokin' ... at That Killing Feeling

In today's rip-roaring chapter of NOWHERE GIRLS, FBI agents Sunday Sparks and Max Cargo are closing in on agents Cherry Nation and April Street. Meanwhile, evil mastermind Honey Almond, deep in her underground lair, is picking a new assassin to go after the girls ...


EXT. SHOPPING MALL - NIGHT
Sunday and Max walk up to a GRUFF SWAT COMMANDER,
a big, burly, no-nonsense kinda fella.

SUNDAY
Has the perimeter been secured?

GRUFF SWAT COMMANDER
Yeah. We’re sweeping the interior. Nothing yet.

MAX
They’re probably in one of the basements by now --

SUNDAY
Then we have them TRAPPED.
(to Gruff)
Good work, officer --

GRUFF SWAT COMMANDER
Sergeant. Sergeant Sprague.
(looks her up and down)
TOM Sprague -- like ‘tomcat’ --
(smiles, smarmy)
So listen, after we catch these fillies,
what do you say we grab a cup of java?
(winks)
I’ve got the cream.

Sunday’s nostrils flare.
She reaches up.
GRABS him by the balls.

Squeezes HARD.
He WINCES in pain.

SUNDAY
Now you listen to me, BUSTER.
I’m the west coast BUREAU CHIEF,
and I can have your badge faster
than Andy Dick in a pharmacy.
So get your fat ass BACK ON THE JOB,
and save your sleazy come-ons
for some cheap whore who GIVES A FUCK.

She lets go with flourish.
He stumbles backwards,
bowing and nodding his head furiously.

TOM
Yes, sir -- uh, ma’am --
I’m sorry, I will, I, I --

And he trots off, red-faced.

MAX
Good job. Surgical precision.

SUNDAY
Hell hath no fury like a woman fucked.

INT. HONEY’S UNDERGROUND LAIR - AT THAT MOMENT
Honey stands next to Monsterburg at his work station.

HONEY
Pull up our database of assets.
I want to see all of our sleepers.

MONSTERBURG
You having -- second thoughts about Rock?

HONEY
That’s why I make the big bucks, little fella.
Gimmee some names.

His fingers FLY across the keyboard.
A stream of DATA starts filling his computer monitor.

HONEY
(reads off the screen)
Irina Kolishnikov. What’s her deal?

MONSTERBURG
Hold on a sec --

The computer BEEPS, and we see on the screen:

IRINA KOLISHNIKOV
A big, beautiful hunk of curved, Russian muscle.
Martina Navratilova’s body, with the face of Angelina Jolie.

HONEY
Reads the intel.

HONEY
Fluent in five languages,
can bench press three-hundred pounds,
expert marksman --
(reads)
Been in sleeper status five years.
Never been used on an assignment.
Programmed to kill, then self-terminate.
(reads)
Works as a ‘fitness instructor to the stars’
in Beverly Hills. PERFECT.
(looks at him)
Active her IMMEDIATELY.

MONSTERBURG
Your wish is my command,
oh mighty goddess of espionage.

Honey blinks. Startled. Pleased.

HONEY
Play your cards right, sonny,
and there’ll be a big promotion for you.
(winks)
With benefits.

Monsterburg turns red. Blushes.

MONSTERBURG
Color me tingly all over.

HONEY
I never got your first name, doll.

MONSTERBURG
D-dave --

HONEY
Okay, Dave.
Time for you get Goliath on me
and use that big stick.