Let's Get Those Fucking Bitches

Happy Thursday, April Foolers! Are you ready to take another trip to the lower depths of evil? Go on a joyride straight to hell? Then strap on your favorite piece, and get your ass over to the coolest hardboiled crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In today's chapter from our spine-tingling spy thriller NOWHERE GIRL, black ops assassin The Bagger is on the hunt for on-the-lam Homeland Security agents April Street and Cherry Nation ... and so are FBI agents Sunday Sparks and Max Cargo.


INT. BUGS’ SUV - MOVING - NIGHT
The crunchy snarl of The Sex Pistols’ SUBMISSION over --

Bugs and the gang cruising down Pacific Avenue in Venice.
He glances at the GPS. Turns white. Looks at The Bagger.

BUGS
The signal. It STOPPED.

BAGGER
WHAT?

BUGS
(points)
It stopped blinking.

BAGGER
Somebody disabled the tracking device?

BUGS
But according to Honey,
it was implanted UNDER HER SKIN.

BAGGER
Shit, piss, fuck, COCKSUCKER.
(beat)
How close were we before it went out?

BUGS
Just a couple of blocks.

BAGGER
Pull over, NOW.

Bugs does. Sighs. Looks at Bagger.

BUGS
Okay, what now?

BAGGER
You stay in the car.
Lemon and I are going to search door-to-door.

LEMON
Ooh, goody. Like Halloween.

The Bagger pulls out a snub-nosed
Uzi submachine gun out of his coat.
Raises it. Grins.

BAGGER
Yeah. Except this time, the trick IS the treat.

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - SITUATION ROOM - AT THAT MOMENT
Sunday and Max sip cups of coffee. Huddle in the corner.
Watch the other FBI agents scurry about.

SUNDAY
Security breach at the White House.
Fucking RIDICULOUS.

MAX
You gotta say it was a brilliant op.
Using a tall blond with big tits --

SUNDAY
Idiots are in jail,
and now fielding offers from three networks
for a fucking REALITY SHOW.
Our great nation is going in the TOILET.
They should be fucking SHOT.
(sips coffee)
All that crap on TV makes me sick --

MAX
I dunno. I kinda like JERSEY SHORE.
(chuckles)
'The Situation -- '

NERDY JUNIOR OP (O.C.)
I’ve GOT IT.

Sunday and Max WHIP their heads in the direction of --

NERDY JUNIOR OP
Standing at his desk. Fist pumped.

NERDY JUNIOR OP
They’re at 5218 Pacific Avenue.
It’s ten minutes from here.

SUNDAY
(races toward him)
Good work, Monsterburg.
If this pans out, you’ll get a condemnation.
(to the room)
ALRIGHT everybody, let’s MOBILIZE.
Let’s GET THOSE FUCKING BITCHES.

An older, tired-look agent looks at Max.
Shakes his head.

OLDER, TIRED-LOOKING AGENT
She always so -- feisty?

MAX
You should see her
after she’s had a couple of cocktails.

The French Tickler

Happy Hump Day, hardboiled humpsters. You say you're feeling a bit disgruntled? Downtrodden? Ready to blow your stack? Then why not blow off some steam at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling!

In today's rip-roaring chapter of the adrenaline-packed spy thriller NOWHERE GIRLS, The Bagger and his merry band of assassins are hot on the trail of our heroes, Homeland Security agents April Street and Cherry Nation, who are right now holed up at the safe house tending to their wounds ...


INT. BUGS’ SUV - NIGHT
Bugs sits behind the wheel.
Looks at The Bagger quizzically.

BUGS
Did you clear it with Honey?

BAGGER
Hell, no. Mind your own business.
You’re the DRIVER, that’s it.
So if you know what’s good for you, zip the lip.
This is MY op.

BUGS
But --

A soft RAP-RAP-RAP on the tinted window.
Bagger rolls it down, revealing -- Lemon.
She leans in the window.

BAGGER
Hey there, worker bee.
Ready to dive bomb the hive?

LEMON
Take me to your honey pot.

She opens the rear door.
Hops in. Looks at Bugs.

LEMON
Wow. This must be big.
We’ve got a driver and everything.

BUGS
I’m not a DRIVER.
I’ll have you know I’m clearance level six.
(to The Bagger)
You can’t expect me to believe
Lady Gaga here is an OPERATIVE.

BAGGER
My dear boy, this is Lemon LeBon.
She can kill a man in six languages.

LEMON
Seven, actually.

She reaches forward,
PINCHES a spot on Bugs’ temples.

LEMON
Umrijeti!

He HOWLS with pain.
SWATS her hand away.

BUGS
OW. What the fuck was THAT?

LEMON
Sibenik death grip.
All the rage in Croatia.
Don’t leave eastern Europe without it.

BAGGER
Enough foreplay.
Let’s rock the fucking ROLL.
We have terrorists to seduce.
VAGINAS to capture.

Bugs puts the car in gear.
Switches on the GPS.
Starts driving. Mutters to himself.

BUGS
I just HAD to leave the CIA --

INT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - AT THAT MOMENT
Bibi lies on the couch on her side.
Serge has drawn a red circle on her neck.
He sterilizes the scalpel in alcohol.

SERGE
Ingenious.
They disguised the entry wound as a birthmark.

BIBI
No. That is real birthmark.
They took it off, then put it back on.

SERGE
Like I said. Ingenious --

IN THE KITCHEN AREA
Cherry huddles with April.
The enormity of what’s happening is finally sinking in.

APRIL
How you holding up?

CHERRY
If they hurt my kids, so help me god,
there’s gonna be HELL to pay.

APRIL
We’ll get this Honey Almond character, trust me.

CHERRY
But how?

APRIL
(looks at Bibi)
The answer’s right under our noses.

CHERRY
You mean the French tickler?

APRIL
Yeah. I can’t put my finger on it exactly,
but I think something might be rotten
in the state of Denmark.

Pause.

CHERRY
Maybe she was in deep cover
on an op and got exposed.

APRIL
You mean the story she gave us
about quitting is bogus?
That’s she’s still on an op?

CHERRY
Well, isn’t that how WE operate?
Always keep ‘em guessing?

APRIL
So we keep an eye on her --

CHERRY
She can lead us to who’s got my kids.
We have to trust her.

APRIL
For now. Let’s see how it plays out.
(beat)
She DID save our asses.

SERGE (O.C.)
That’s it, all done. As good as new.

The girls turn, look.
Bibi sits on the couch
with a bandage on her neck.
Smiles at the girls brightly.

BIBI
(sings)
I am stuck on Band-Aid,
and Band-Aid fucked with me --

Homey Don't Play That Way

Happy Tuesday, hardboiled crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side. A place where the guys are tough, and the chicks tougher. A place that's lean and mean and will knock your socks off ... right here, at That Killing Feeling!

In today's episode of the spy thriller NOWHERE GIRLS, we meet FBI agents Sunday Sparks and Max Cargo, who are heading up the manhunt for April Street and Cherry Nation ... and things get a little 'hot under the collar' ...


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
Just got this footage.
Street and Nation are in Venice.

MAX
(squints)
That’s them alright.
Do we have their present 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, just 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 burnt-out old FUCK like YOU.
Capishe?

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 --

Jesus Fucking Christ On A Stick

Happy Monday, hardboiled crime slicksters. Are you ready to take another trip to the dark side? Then strap on your favorite piece, and head on over to the coolest joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

In today's chapter from NOWHERE GIRLS, just as Homeland Security agents April Street and Cherry Nation have their wounds tended to by black ops spook Serge Leon in the safe house, French agent Bibi La Salle reveals that she, too needs medical attention, as her former boss Honey Almond, the op that's now after all of them, had her microchipped, and is tracking her right now ...


INT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - NIGHT
Cherry’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.
We will disguise you.
Alter your appearance.
Then you will be able to move freely
until you can clear up this misunderstanding.
And we will help you.

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
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 --

My Trunk Is Always Packed

Happy Friday, crime freaks! Are you ready for the weak-end? Then get your asses over to the coolest joint in cyberspace, where the drinks are cold, and the chicks are hot ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's chapter of your favorite spy thriller NOWHERE GIRLS, where the going gets tough, and the tough get ... violent.

While the FBI have commandeered the local police headquarters in their search for rogue Homeland Security agents April Street and Cherry Nation, another assassin, 'The Bagger,' calls up his favorite 'junior assistant', Lemon, who rushes to the scene ...


EXT. SANTA MONICA POLICE HEADQUARTERS - NIGHT
A quaint, almost run-down building near City Hall.
The front drive is jammed with black SUV’s.

INT. SANTA MONICA POLICE HEADQUARTERS - CONTINUOUS
A swarm of FBI AGENTS IN BLACK SUITS
are clustered around the front desk.

A FEMALE AGENT (20’s), hot-as-hell,
severe in Armani, blonde and blue-eyed,
SHOUTS at the bug-eyed DESK SERGEANT.

GORGEOUS AGENT
I could give a SHIT about RULES OF PROCEDURE.
This is a matter of NATIONAL SECURITY.
We’re taking over the station, UNDERSTAND.
We’re FBI, and NO ONE fucks with us. GOT it?

Meet SUNDAY SILK (30's), task force chief.
Ruthless. Vicious. A hell of an agent.
Great legs. And, hey -- nice rack.

SCARED DESK SERGEANT
(reaches for his phone)
Let me call the chief --

A shorter, older AGENT (40’s) eyes burning with fire,
POUNDS on the desk with his fist.

OLDER AGENT
Now listen to me, you dumb FUCK.
Two rogue federal agents were just involved
in a security breach at THE WHITE HOUSE.
We haven’t got time to FUCK AROUND.
Now show us a room where we can
fucking SET UP OUR EQUIPMENT,
or I’ll have you checking parking meters in a SKIRT.

Meet MAX CARGO (50's), senior agent. Brusque. No-nonsense.
And right now, ready to punch someone’s lights out.

Scared Desk Sergeant gets up.
Points down the corridor.

SCARED DESK SERGEANT
R-right this way.

SUNDAY
You got a stick up your ass? MOVE IT.

SCARED DESK SERGEANT
(nods, starts walking)
Yes, sir. Uh, ma’am -- uh --

INT. SLEAZY CLUB - NIGHT
David Bowie/T-Rex 70’s rock at an EAR-SHREDDING volume.

Very glam, very glitter. The packed club is jamming.
Smoke machines. Mirrored balls. Go-go dancers on pillars.
Boys, girls and everything in between writhe with abandon.

A COOL GUY (25) and a HOT CHICK twist and shake it.
The babe, (23), mod, waifish, vibrates like a woman possessed.

THE CHICK
Stops dancing.
Opens her eyes.
Pulls out her BlackBerry.

CLOSE ON --
The LCD display.

THE GEESE ARE IN FLIGHT.
PACK YOUR LIPSTICK. LOVE, MOM.

THE CHICK
Yells something in the guy's ear.
Bolts for the door.

EXT. SLEAZY CLUB - CONTINUOUS
She FLIES down the outside staircase.
Six-inch platforms CLATTER,
BANG-BANG-BANG down the metal steps.

ON THE SIDEWALK
She fingers a number on her cell.
Jumps into her red Mazda Miata convertible.

INTERCUT WITH:

EXT. OCEAN AVENUE - NIGHT
Bugs’ Black Porche SUV idles curbs side.

INT. BUGS’ SUV - CONTINUOUS
The Bagger sits in the passenger side, talks on his cell.
Winks at Bugs. Fires up a smoke.

BAGGER
Lemon. It’s Poppa Bear.

LEMON
This is awfully last-minute notice, Baggy.
I’m wired on coke, completely shit-faced --
and I’m wearing six-inch heels.

BAGGER
The clock's running, girlie-girl,
no time to worry about that.
You pack the trunk?

LEMON
Honey, my trunk is always packed.

BAGGER
Solid. Then let’s make some lemonade.

A Girl And A Gun

Happy Thursday, crime slicksters! Are you ready for another balls-out, action-packed, one-way trip to Hell? Then strap on your favorite piece, and get your ass over to the coolest joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling!

Onto today's spine-tingling installment of the spy thriller NOWHERE GIRLS ...

Where agents Cherry Nation, April Street and Bibi LaSalle are now safely in black ops spook Serge Reno's safe house, where he is right now digging a bullet out of April's thigh ...


EXT. CONCRETE BUNKER - NIGHT
A small, grey building without windows.
Old, faded lettering on the side reads GOLDS’ GYM.
The VW bus is parked in front.

INT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - AT THAT MOMENT
Soft, super-cool chill music softly thump-thumps over --

A modern, comfy, glossy work/living space
with state-of-the art everything spread out in one big loft space.

Cherry and Bibi sit at the bar,
facing the kitchen, sipping coffee, looking at --

April, lying on the sofa, her pant leg ripped off,
exposing the gunshot wound on her thigh.

She’s being attended to by SERGE RENO (40’s),
tall, rugged, unshaven, Euro-cool.
Bibi’s dark-haired, blue-eyed Interpol counterpart.

The notches on his belt have notches.

Right now he’s holding a pair of forceps over the wound.
About to dig for the bullet.

SERGE
Try to relax.
I’m afraid this is going to hurt a bit.

APRIL
(big smile, staring)
I’m okay. Just get it on.
Out. Get it out.

Serge looks at her, amused.

SERGE
Hold on --

He starts digging in the wound,
searching, probing.

APRIL
GAAA --

Cherry holds her arm. Looks away.

CHERRY
(to Bibi)
I feel like I’m at the dentist
waiting for my turn to be tortured.

BIBI
Have no fear. Serge is very gentle.
(smiles)
And he’s good at getting out bullets.

CHERRY
He IS very good-looking --

BIBI
Is first time agency has used a male ‘honey trap.’
Results have been very good.
Just look at your sister,
she is completely, how you say, smitten.

APRIL
Stares at Serge as he continues to dig for the bullet.

APRIL
So you’re --
(GROANS)
French? How long have you --
(GASPS)
Worked with Bibi?

Serge ignores her,
working the instrument.
He GRABS something. Smiles.

SERGE
Shhh. I’ve almost got it --

He tries to grasp the bullet,
but it’s slippery with blood.
Tries again. But it slips.
Once again -- and GETS it.

SERGE
A-HA.

Serge pulls out the bullet.
Drops it in a paper cup on the coffee table.

CLICK.

APRIL
Thanks. Whew.
(looks at the cup)
Hey. Aren’t you supposed to drop the bullet
into a metal cup like they do in the movies
so it makes that 'clang' sound?

SERGE
Jean luc Goddard once said
'all you need for a film is a girl and a gun.'
(smiles)
But he left out one thing.

APRIL
What’s that?

SERGE
This.

He leans over.
Kisses her softly on the lips.

Accidents Will Happen

Happy hump day, hardboiled crime humpsters! Are you ready for some balls-out action? Some spine-tingling thrills that'll leave you speechless? Then head on over to the coolest joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.

Onto today's rip-roaring chapter of NOWHERE GIRLS, where ...

Homeland Security agents April Street and Cherry Nation make their escape from the terrorists with a little help from the mysterious Bibi La Salle. Meanwhile, black ops assassin The Bagger starts making his plans to get them ...


EXT. PACIFIC AVENUE - NIGHT
A VW BUS chugs along up the coastal thoroughfare.

INT. VW BUS - CONTINUOUS
Bibi’s behind the wheel. April sits next to her.
Cherry sits behind April, shivering in the cold.

CHERRY
I’m fucking freezing.
Are we almost there?

BIBI
Oui. Just another couple of blocks.

APRIL
So what’s the deal with Honey Almond?
Why is she setting us up?

BIBI
I don’t know.
(looks at April)
Honey has two kinds of ops.
They’re either for profit -- or personal.

APRIL
I don’t understand.
There can’t be any profit in setting us up --

CHERRY
Yeah, and it can’t be personal,
because we’ve never met her.

BIBI
Maybe you hurt someone close to her.

APRIL
Well, that only narrows it down
to a few hundred people.

EXT. VENICE CAFE - AT THAT MOMENT
The Bagger sits at an outdoor table with a cup of coffee.
Fingering his I-Phone. Stares at the tiny monitor.

BAGGER
(reads)
Seventy-four virgins, on demand?

ON THE SCREEN
We see a porno website. GIRLS OF AL QAEDA.
Captions under pictures of HOT IRANIAN WOMEN
read ONE HUMP OR TWO.
WANNA GO TO PARADISE?
COME ENTER MY WAILING WALLS.
BIRKA BABIES.
THE BAGGER

Shakes his head with wonder.

BAGGER
Be still my mosque --

A MAN IN BLACK (20’s) approaches the table.
Tall, rugged, in shades. Textbook Langley.
He takes a seat. Removes his shades.
Cold, humorless blue eyes stare at him.

MAN IN BLACK
Ms. Otis sends her regrets.

The Bagger takes a sip of coffee.
Stares back.

BAGGER
It’s 'Miss' Otis, fool.

Man in Black looks around furtively, then --

MAN IN BLACK
(whispers)
That’s not what you’re supposed to say.

BAGGER
I KNOW that. But you got it WRONG.
It’s 'Miss' Otis, NOT MS.

Pause.

MAN IN BLACK
MISS Otis sends her regrets.

The Bagger takes another,
longer sip of coffee.

BAGGER
Such a pity about Simon Cowell.

MAN IN BLACK
(nods)
Hare, sir. Reporting for duty.

BAGGER
(rubs his head)
HAIR? What kind of name is THAT?

HARE
No, sir. H-a-r-e, like the rabbit.

BAGGER
Well, I’m not going to call you HARE.
What’s your first name?

HARE
Howard, sir. But most people call me --
(grimaces)
Bugs.

BAGGER
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

HARE
How do you think I feel?
You don’t know what it’s like.
Everyone comes up to me
and says 'what’s up, doc?'
Drives me fucking crazy.

The Bagger nods his head slowly.
Sips his coffee. Then --

BAGGER
So you have the GPS?

HARE
Yes. It’s in my vehicle.

BAGGER
What? It’s not hand-held?

HARE
Well, I suppose you could remove it. But --
I’m supposed to drive you, give you back-up.
(low, conspiratorial)
It would be an honor, sir.
I’ve the stories about your work.
Tell me. Is it true about --
(looks around, then whispers)
Michael Jackson?

The Bagger takes another sip.
Smiles silkily.

BAGGER
Michael Jackson died of an overdose of Propofol,
a powerful anaesthesia.
The coroner determined that his death
was not the result of foul play.

HARE
But isn’t that your M-O?
To make it look like an accident?

BAGGER
Well, you know that Elvis Costello song?

HARE
Uh, no.

BAGGER
Accidents Will Happen --