Ruthless and Vicious

Sometimes you'll look in a mirror and think, "Damn, I'm so hot and I'm such a good person."
My mornings of "messy buns" and "showers that help you think about the meaning of life" aren't like that.
My mornings? Usually they involve waking up with a gunshot, punching Louis in the stomach, choking on a banana, and then actually living my life.
To be honest, maybe I don't have a life.

I was told by my parents that my name, Adelaide, means noble. To be noble is - Searched it up on the internet, actually - "having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral principles and ideals."
I could be exactly the opposite of my name - my personality includes being weird, mean, cold-hearted, cruel, bitchy, cranky and sarcastic. Ideals and principals? Good ones? Ha! Funny joke.

My name is just one of the many things I can't live up to - like, oh, admitting selling guns on Amazon, or my actually good partner-in-crime, Louis.

Or his code-name.. Ruthless.

Ruthless - having or showing no pity or compassion for others.

What about me? What's Adelaide, the supposedly noble's code name?

Vicious - deliberately cruel or violent.

Let's move on to today, when he woke me up with another gunshot.
I heard dust crinkle off the walls of our old, dusty apartment we.. 'borrowed..' right under a construction sight.
"Bloody hell, Louis! They'll hear you!" I scold.
He shrugs, not apologizing, either.

His chocolate-colored brown hair is flopped sideways in a black beanie. His blue-green eyes that are something, compared to my dull, hazel ones, shine brightly in the rays of sun that peek through the sides of the house.

"Up and at 'em, Vicious," He grins, exposing half of his white teeth.
I pull myself out of the bed and slap him on the arm as I go to get dressed.

"You're too hot to be a criminal," I pout as I start pulling on a sweatshirt up to my knees and skinny jeans.
Yep. What? I can't be fashionable while I'm killing/robbing?

"I can't say the same thing to you," He replies snarkily and flips my auburn messy braid to the side.

"Don't touch my hair," I snap jokingly and he flips a water bottle I throw at him.
"Hey, Michael, what's that sound?"

I see Louis's pupils dilate in fear, and my blood pumps in my ears as he throws me a gun.
I click it before I see the 2 men peek their heads through.
In a couple seconds, Louis has shoved us both in the small dresser at the side of the bed, grabbing my arm while the gun hangs loosely from his left hand he wrapped round my neck.

"Holy fuck, Jim! It's like an underground house!" Micheal's voice, I believe.
"Ada. Don't. Move." Louis hisses as I try to pry the door open a bit.

There's a messy rubber bed in the middle of the little dust room, sprawled with blankets and pillows. There's a lot of markings on the floor and walls, since this place is practically made of sand and we sketch plans out. Most of them are rubbed out, though. There's a single table next to the bed with half-eaten foods and water bottles. Then there's a couple beach chairs in the corner, and lastly, this dresser.

Oh, and of course a bucket when we.. ehem.. "Gotta go."
Jim and Michael flash lights around our room, before shrugging and emptying all our belongings easily.
"Yo-" I start loudly, but Louis clamps his hand over my mouth, hard, not daring to let go. I squeeze his hand, my heart pumping like a rocket.

"Why we emptying?" Michael asks.
Jim shrugs. "Might be useful shit."
"Let's get the dresser," Jim remarks as they lift up the little box we're in, and Louis gasps, until it's my turn to shut him up.
"Jump. In 3.." He hisses through his breath.

"2.." I gasp, opening the door a bit.
"1!" He yells as we both jump out and aim the guns at the men, and they drop the dresser, and Michael yowls.

"Shut up!" I snap angrily, looking at Louis sharply, who's about to pull the trigger.

"You have 5 seconds, to go." He breathes, still not taking his gaze off of the men.
Jim trembles, pointing an accusing finger at us.

"W-ho're you?" He stutters.
We crack a smile.

"Ruthless and Vicious. Those are our names." I say steadily before they dart outside, with the fear of dying causing them to stay at the edge of their toes.

Notes