Jesus Fucking Christ On A Stick

Hello, Ruby Tuesday, will they hang a noose on you? Happy TUESDAY, crime kids. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In Chapter 10 of NOWHERE GIRLS, after black op spook Serge Reno finishes bandaging Homeland Security agents Cherry Nation's and April Street's gunshot wounds at rogue agent Bibi LaSalle's safe house, Bibi makes an unexpected -- and horrific confession. Meanwhile, FBI agents Sunday Sparks and Max Cargo get a little 'hot under the collar' ...


INT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - NIGHT
April’s now sitting on the couch.
Serge is dressing and bandaging
the wound on her arm.

The girls sit on a sofa facing them.
Bibi picks up a remote. CLICKS on the TV.

BIBI
Let’s see if ze media’s picked it up yet.

ON THE GIANT PLASMA-SCREEN
We see a SERIOUS-LOOKING HOT CHICK ANCHOR (20’s)
in a tight, shiny, mini-suit
standing in front of the White House.

SERIOUS-LOOKING HOT CHICK ANCHOR
-- where two impostors
crashed tonight’s State Dinner,
one of whom was wearing what
was later discovered to be a fake bomb vest.
The President has ordered a review
of security procedures to find out
exactly how this happened.
(cocks her head with importance)
What makes this story even more scary
is the fact that two federal agents were involved.

A PICTURE OF CHERRY AND HOLLY
Fills the screen.

SERIOUS-LOOKING HOT CHICK ANCHOR (O.C.) (CONT'D)
Homeland Security agents
Cherry Nation and April Street
are now wanted fugitives
in connection with this attack.
If you see them, please notify
your local authorities immediately.
But be warned, they are
armed and considered EXTREMELY dangerous.

INT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
Everyone stares at the screen,
open-mouthed. Except Serge.

CHERRY
Jesus fucking Christ on a stick.

APRIL
Holy fucking shit. We’re FUCKED.

SERGE
Not to worry. You are safe with us.

Bibi looks at Serge guiltily.

BIBI
I’m afraid I’m going to need more
of your surgical experience, mon cher.

SERGE
What for? You have no -- gunshot wound?

BIBI
I’ve got something worse, I’m afraid.

Bibi turns green.

BIBI (CONT’D)
In all the excitement,
I completely forgot about it.
It was years ago --
(swallows)
When I went deep cover
in Honey’s operation two years ago,
she had me microchipped.

APRIL
What the fuck?

CHERRY
Like a DOG?

BIBI
Oui.
(beat)
And we need to cut it out NOW,
or else her people will be here ANY MINUTE.

Serge sticks his hand into his surgical bag.
Pulls out a scalpel. Smiles grimly.

SERGE
Then I guess we’d better cut to the chase.
(beat)
So to speak --

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
The muster room has been
converted into a command post.

Rows of FBI AGENTS man workstations
with laptops and LED screens showing data.
Spy satellite footage. News feeds.

Sunday watches a monitor with Max.

ON THE SCREEN
We see the boat the girls
were in earlier hit the shore,
then disappear under the Venice Pier.

SUNDAY
Points at the screen.

SUNDAY
Street and Nation are in Venice.

MAX
(squints)
That’s them alright.
Do we have their exact location?
And who’s the chick with them?

SUNDAY
Not yet.
(shakes her head)
I don’t know WHO that is --
(to the room)
Anybody track where the car went yet?

A STRANGE-LOOKING NERD AGENT
looks up from his laptop.

STRANGE-LOOKING NERD AGENT
Almost. Another minute or two.
Checking Sat fifty-four-twelve --

SUNDAY
Well, hurry the fuck up.
(to Max)
They stole a VW bus,
but then drove out of range.
(to another agent)
How we doing with the ID
of the third person?

A SERIOUS-LOOKING FEMALE AGENT
jerks her head toward Sunday.

SERIOUS-LOOKING FEMALE AGENT
Searching databases. Nothing yet.

SUNDAY
Are you checking domestic AND foreign?

SERIOUS-LOOKING FEMALE AGENT
Uh, domestic --

SUNDAY
HEL-LO? Get your ass in gear,
agent Lacy, PRONTO.

AGENT LACY
Y-yes, Ma’am.

She ducks down, fingers furiously
flying across the keyboard.

Max nods at Sunday.
They move off to the side
away from the group.

Sunday sips her coffee.
Eyes glinting.

MAX
Op getting you worked up?

SUNDAY
I love the smell of the hunt.
Gets my blood pumping.

MAX
Speaking of 'pumping,'
what do you say we catch some
R and R after we nab the ultra-vixens?
I know this great little dive bar nearby --

Sunday turns white.
GRABS Max by the balls.
SQUEEZES. HARD.

SUNDAY
Now you listen to me, OLD-TIMER.
Homey don’t play that way, GOT IT?

She lets go. Max gasps. Holds his crotch.

MAX
G-got it.

SUNDAY
And if I WAS into guys,
it sure as HELL wouldn’t be
a burned out old FUCK like YOU.
Capish?

MAX
Y-yeah. Listen, I’m really sorry.
I -- get worked up, too.
That was totally unprofessional,
and I feel like a total jackass.
Accept my apology?

SUNDAY
(cocks her head)
Oh my god. Did you hear that?

MAX
Hear what?

SUNDAY
Hell. It just froze over --