What happens when a bunch of killers are forced to live together?
BATTLE OF THE KILLERS is a reality show that follows Betinia Woods, a girl kidnapped and forced to live in an underground bunker with twelve other killers. The bunker is equipped wit...
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STOP. That word snarled through my head like a demented hellhound, hoping the desperate plea would reach her, but it had no effect. She continued grinding the blade against Jookie's neck like a giddy schoolgirl.
If he died, they'd never let us live. Never.
DO something! Ah, I kind of like seeing Jookie get his ass whooped. Did you forget that if he dies, we die? No, I didn't forget. I completely understand, but what do you want me to do about it? Stop being fucking useless. I'm useless? You can't do anything either! AND let's not forget that YOU let the heifer out in the first place. I thought we were past that already. No, we're not.
Jookie let out a high-pitched cackle, tiny speckles of blood splattering his face and her wrist. "You kill me, and they'll kill you."
"Will they?" She shrugged, head falling to the side. "I don't think they particularly like you, and I can't say I blame them. Just looking at you makes me want to guzzle Pepto. Touching you is worse." She scrunched up her nose. "It makes me want to bathe in boiling bleach with open wounds." She leaned over him. "With you gone, they'll probably make me the new host."
Jookie coughed and stared up at her. "You could never do my job."
"Hi! I'm Jookie. My voice sounds like horny bees fucking in Antarctica, but I keep talking because I enjoy annoying the hell out of strangers and being a goofy doofus. I like to laugh and giggle all the time for no reason except to make my own tiny, microscopic dick hard. I love blood and guts because of my unresolved mommy and daddy issues, and I enjoy making fun of crying, vulnerable girls because I'm a pathetic dipshit with no life except standing in front of a camera torturing innocent people. Welcome to Battle of the Killers." She smiled down at him. "See? Not hard."
Jookie scoffed. "I don't sound like that."
"You mean you don't giggle like you have a frightened gerbil crawling in your rectum?"
"It's my signature."
"Whoever told you to pick that as your signature should die a painful death. Preferably something involving a rabid monkey, a moving train and gonorrhea," she said, pressing harder on her knife. "But sadly, you won't live long enough to see it."
Jookie grinned at her, teeth red. "We'll see." He kicked her between the legs, catching her off-guard enough for him to throw her off him. She slammed into the wall, as he began to crawl away, thick strings of sticky liquid dripping from his face to the floor in small pools.
When he got to his feet a moment later, she tackled him to the floor with her shoulder. He face-planted, and she hopped on top of him, crashing her knees into his spine. Gripping his head back to face the wall with one hand, she positioned her blade at his throat with the other.
