Unwarranted Acts Of Beauty

“I’m going to make you pretty or you will die.”

Two hundred fifty pounds of manly muscles, two meters tall came straight for Emily. Crossed over his right shoulder, a full makeup kit bounced back and forth off his left thigh. A .357 Colt Python was in his right hand. Emily had evaded or destroyed the lesser artists but this time, she knew she was going to be made over.

In truth, she wished she had never signed up for the makeover. She thought it was just another sweepstakes, like the Hanson tickets and the free two ton pickup truck before. Then they started coming, ambushing her in the office, twelve at once. They were all in black, a sort of swat chic, with guns and grenades. They proceeded to massacre her whole god damn office.

It wasn’t until the police came that she saw the blush in the bandoleers. Apparently, every other pocket was full of ammunition. The rest was all makeup. She had been accosted by an elite mercenary team of makeup artists and survived. She was the only one that did, her and the fifth of the second unit. He didn’t survive long though, he left his guns in her bedroom. The cops didn’t know about those.

Undeterred by the body count, they kept coming. There was a sniper tea with a highly tuned paint ball guns and something that shot a bit more loudly. Once it was just a guy with an ax, no makeup to be found. One time, it was a guy with a makeup kit, a revolver and two bullets in his center mass. That one proved to be tough.

Emily ducked around an alley way and waited for the big burly man. Within seconds he was turning the corner. Emily’s last bullet missed his head by hairs. It was enough to make the man bleed from the drums but not enough to stop him for reaching for his eyelash brush. Emily stumbled backwards onto the ground. There with a clunk on the ground, she remembered her boot knife.

She quickly found the black plastic knife in her hands and as the bald, quite angry makeup artist got closer she got a good hold on it. As she rose the knife to his throat she saw the handgun still aimed at her. She stabbed into the right arm and moved her knee into his gut. She twisted the knife and for a second he relented. Then a blur, then the sound of sizzling thunder. Her hands shook and the revolver fell to the ground.

The man was dead and Emily had shot him with is own gun. If only they hadn’t came at her with guns and knives. Her mascara was runny and her blouse ruined by blood. She really did need a makeover.

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