Sarah Killian The Mullets of Madness

Sarah Killian The Mullets of Madness

last updateLast Updated : 2021-09-06
By:  Crystal Lake Publishing  Completed
Language: English
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Have you ever woken one morning with a burning, insatiable desire to go out and kill someone? Sarah Killian, a notoriously foul-mouthed and mean-spirited serial killer for hire, along with her cohort assassin Mary Sue Keller, are back on assignment for the Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers (T.H.E.M.). After receiving an ominous warning from a mark-gone-wrong, it becomes clear that Nick Jin—Sarah’s former nemesis—is still at large and singling her out. Sarah and Mary Sue are dispatched to Tennessee to discreetly kill off an accused family of KKK organizers, but their true mission is to lure Nick Jin into a trap. But will Nick—always several steps ahead of T.H.E.M.—see their bait for what it is? One thing is guaranteed: blood will be shed. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

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1

1DO WE REALLYhave to go through this whole ‘introduce ourselves’ thing again? The only thing I hate more than introductions is repeating myself.Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll do this, though I have to say it would be easier for all of us if you just read my first book.So, my name is Sarah Killian and I am a Professional Serial Killer. DO NOT confuse me with an assassin. I hate those guys. Every. Last. One.Well, except for Mary Sue. She’s an exception. She’s an exception to a lot of things. I’ll get to herin a bit.In a tortoise shell, I work for a secret organization known as T.H.E.M.—the Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers. T.H.E.M. is clandestinely contracted by private individuals, corporations, or sometimes even the government to complete the dirty work of furtively killing off individuals or groups of people.I won’t bother covering the assassin side of things, because that’s pretty much just the boring, run-of-the-mill shit you’ve seen in every Hollywood movie.

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Sarah Killian The Mullets of Madness by Crystal Lake Publishing is a mystery novel full of suspense and twists. Sarah Killian is an assassin for hire. She has a constant accomplice named Mary Sue Keller. Nick Jin is a known nemesis of Sarah. He targets her out of spite. Settling things, Sarah and Mary Sue lure Nick Jin into a trap. However, Nick Jin is devious and cunning. In the end, who is the hunter? Who is the prey? Someone is going to end up bleeding, but is it going to be? Nick Jin or Sara Killian?

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Scherrie
I'm hooked
2024-10-08 13:57:10
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31 Chapters

1

1DO WE REALLY have to go through this whole ‘introduce ourselves’ thing again? The only thing I hate more than introductions is repeating myself.Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll do this, though I have to say it would be easier for all of us if you just read my first book.So, my name is Sarah Killian and I am a Professional Serial Killer. DO NOT confuse me with an assassin. I hate those guys. Every. Last. One.Well, except for Mary Sue. She’s an exception. She’s an exception to a lot of things. I’ll get to her in a bit.In a tortoise shell, I work for a secret organization known as T.H.E.M.—the Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers. T.H.E.M. is clandestinely contracted by private individuals, corporations, or sometimes even the government to complete the dirty work of furtively killing off individuals or groups of people.I won’t bother covering the assassin side of things, because that’s pretty much just the boring, run-of-the-mill shit you’ve seen in every Hollywood movie.
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2

2HAVE YOU EVER woken up some morning with a burning, insatiable desire to go out and kill someone? No? Huh. Guess I’m weird, then.Anyway, this morning I wake up with such a craving. As usual, the craving has been preceded by a dream—well, a flashback to be exact. It’s always the same memory, and if you think I’m going to tell you anymore than that, you really do need to go back and read the first book, because you clearly have not yet learned I am the kind of person who will break the fourth wall a couple times every other page, but you will have to torture me (and not the fun kind of torture) before I talk about personal, psycho, feelings shit.Thanks to my contract with T.H.E.M., I can’t exactly just go out and find myself an unsuspecting tourist on Hollywood Blvd. to lure back to a hotel room where I can de-spleen the poor bastard. However, Zeke is generally pretty flexible about finding us short projects whenever we need a quickie.Technically, one-off jobs (where w
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3

3NORMALLY BEFORE I go on an assignment, I would pay my mother a visit. It’s really just about the only time I visit her, which is one of the many reasons I deserve the award for Worst Daughter of All Time (though not the main reason, by a long shot). However, since this isn’t exactly going to be a long-term assignment, I decide to put-off the visit and go straight to T.H.E.M. headquarters.The headquarters are located in Chatsworth at the far-west-end of the San Fernando Valley, in a building the general public assumes to be a porn distribution warehouse. It takes me longer than it might to get to Chatsworth, due to the fact I have to avoid freeways thanks to my ‘condition.’ See, I have a somewhat rare illness—so rare none of the doctors I’ve seen about it have ever heard or seen anything like it before. In a nutshell, I’m allergic to radar. Technically speaking, it’s not really an allergy—just a hypersensitivity. See, radar has this annoying tendency to send me into a min
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4

4LAST STOP BEFORE heading out to meet our mark is the wardrobe department. If this were a long-term assignment, the wardrobe workers would have already set aside a full set of clothing, fake I.D.’s, etc. Since this is just a one-off job, however, the wardrobe assistant just leads us to a room with racks and racks of clothes, along the lines of a Ross Dress for Less store, and leaves us to our own devices.While many non-Vegas escort ladies often try to ‘stay under the radar’ when arriving at a John’s location and not be too obvious about their profession, Mary Sue and I have a different priority for our job. We want anyone who sees us to assume we are sex workers, and often the best way to put an idea into someone’s head is to give them exactly what they expect.To that end, I pick out the tightest, skimpiest skirt I can find on the rack, and Mary Sue chooses something I suppose is technically a dress, but is more like just a large belt. We each select a pair of stilettos that
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5

5BARELY A FEW MINUTES later, a knock comes at the door. Mary Sue and I both straighten ourselves up, and then I head to the door.“Gene?” I say in my sultriest voice as I crack open the door. Standing in the hall is a man in his late-forties to early-fifties. Thin, wiry frame complimented by wire-rimmed glasses. Hair gone completely grey. Not unhandsome, per se, but not Harrison Ford, either.“Yes—Jessa? May I come in?” he asks—even if Zeke hadn’t already told me as much, I can tell from the confidence in his voice that he is no stranger to the courtesan profession and this is most definitely not his first rodeo. It will, however, be his last.“Of course, sugar,” I respond, putting on a façade of seduction whilst I internally shrivel up in disgust.I undo the door latch, and step aside so he can enter. A look of confusion spreads across his face when he sees Mary Sue—Ming—sitting on the bed.“What’s going on?” He asks, his voice betraying his concerns of being conned.“She
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6

6VERY RARELY DOES Zeke grant an in-person audience, so the fact he accepted my request without question shows just how fucked up this whole Nick Jin situation is.Mary Sue and I return to headquarters and make our way through the underground labyrinth to an office all the way at the back of the building—Zeke’s office. I’ve barely raised my hand to knock on the door when I hear Zeke’s slithery voice call out, “Come in.” I don’t know how the hell he does that, since there aren’t any cameras in the hallway (at least none I’ve ever been able to pick out).Mary Sue and I enter the office and close the door behind us. You might think the office of the leader of a super secret organization of trained serial killers would look like your stereotypical Bond villain evil lair. Sinister gadgets ticking mechanically in the background. Vials of chemicals bubbling with nefarious purpose. Instruments of torture hanging from the walls like a high schooler’s swim meet trophies. A map of the wor
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7

7NEEDLESS TO SAY, rest does not come easy to me. I spend most of the night fitfully tossing and turning. In the few moments I do manage to doze off, I’m woken by nightmares of a zombie Senator Keeley strangling me and moaning in a repeated chant, “Nick says hi . . . Nick says hi . . . ”So by the time Zeke calls me at 6:00 in the morning (the sadistic bastard loves calling me early, because he knows I’m not a morning person), I feel like I would have been better off not even trying to sleep.“Good morning star shine, the Earth says hello!” Zeke says. I’m so tired, it takes me a minute to figure out who he’s impersonating this time. Then it hits me, and I literally face-palm. Willy Wonka—and not the Gene Wilder Willy, but the Johnny Depp Willy. Technically not a serial killer, but definitely a sociopath, and I guess after thirty or forty years of doing this, Zeke’s probably running out of good characters to impersonate.“Cut the crap, Zeke, I’m in no mood today,
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8

8AN HOUR LATER, Mary Sue and I are in a town car being escorted to headquarters. We are both so exhausted even Mary Sue takes the ride in silence—which is not a natural state of being for her.I get a strange sense of déjà vu as—for the second time in twenty-four hours—we make our way through the porn warehouse to the secret entrance to the subterranean corridors, and back to the domain of the F.U.C.K.’s.“See ya in a few, girlfriend!” Mary Sue chirps cheekily, the first words she’s uttered all morning, as we separate into our respective make-over rooms.I groan audibly when I see that, unlike yesterday, my team of F.U.C.K.’s are all men. I guess they decided to even it out and let Mary Sue have a turn with . . . what was her name? Jenny? Gemma? Geranium? Meh, whatever. Not like it matters.“Please take it easy on the boobs this time, guys,” I sigh resignedly, and with little hope of being listened to.Sure enough, all I get in response is a smirk from the le
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9

9WE TOUCHDOWN IN Nashville at about 9:30 p.m. The flight was relatively uneventful, except for Mary Sue’s incessant spew of verbal vomit. Being confined in a sardine can with this woman for four hours makes me want to suggest that Guantanamo Bay look into utilizing Mary Sue as a replacement method of torture as opposed to water boarding—half an hour into the flight and I was already at the point where I would tell anyone my deepest darkest secrets just for the sake of shutting her up.By the time we landed however, we were both so exhausted after the long two days we just went through that Mary Sue is back to her previous, albeit non-characteristic, complacent and silent state. It’s just as well that T.H.E.M. traditionally arranges transportation service for agents from the airport to their living arrangement, because I don’t think either of us are in a state where we can be trusted to operate a motor vehicle (anyone who points out that my radar intolerance makes me permanently
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10

10I CROSS THE room to my bed and kneel down by the safe under the bedside cabinet. I open the safe with a combination provided to me in my T.H.E.M. documentation and pull out a stack of manila envelopes—my case files. The safe, of course, had been sent by T.H.E.M. to the hotel to be placed in my room prior to arrival, and a duplicate safe is in Mary Sue’s room, as well.“You haven’t even looked at those yet, have you,” Mary Sue tisks with annoyance, indicating the envelopes in my hands.I roll my eyes, then retort, “For the love of Captain Hammer’s nipples, Lindsay, gimme a break already.” Even though we are now in the privacy of my suite, it’s probably best to stay in character, just in case a housekeeper walks in on us or something, and so I maintain my accent and use of Mary Sue’s dupe name.“Fine, whatever,” Mary Sue huffs in annoyance. “While you’re catching up, I’m gonna order room service. Do you want anything?”“No, I already ate,” I say as I plop myself onto my bed
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