Though Anne, Sharise, and Jizz Man didn’t know it, they weren’t exactly going up against the Killer’s Gallery’s finest. No, the Killer’s Gallery had lost a lot of cred in the underground killing community, after their app had failed so catastrophically.
For a bit there, all the assassins were looking at the app and thinking something to the effect of, “Holy shit, this is working! This idea is fucking nuts, but it’s working! These guys must be geniuses!”
Now that the app had failed so spectacularly, they could look at it in a bit more of a realistic idea. Something more like, “Seriously? An app? For killing people? That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard!”
This meant that, instead of getting their best and brightest, The Killer’s Gallery got four killers who were… lacking.
They were four middle-aged guys who called themselves Angels of Heck. That was, coincidentally, the same name they’d given their band back in the day. Angels of Heck. They looked back on those days fondly. They’d never gotten big, but they had played a couple of pretty fun gigs back in the 70’s. They were a punk band, and thus did what punk bands are supposed to do: they peed on stuff, broke stuff, took a lot of drugs.
Their journey into killing had started off as a lark. You know, “Hey, what if we got the band back together?” But then they remembered how much they sucked at music, and they ended up taking the easy route. They signed up for the Killer’s Gallery app.
In the short amount of time that the Killer’s Gallery app had been active, The Angels of Heck had killed twenty people. They’d done it sloppily and dangerously, sure. But they’d also done it cheaply.
And so The Killer’s Gallery had called upon The Angels of Heck to kill Anne. They would kill anyone who got in their way, too.
Talk about a mid-life crisis.