Mr. Black and Mr. White at odds in Arms. MM/F

[WyattW5]

For those of you wondering the inspiration for Mr. White. came from a concept I have thought of for a long time (even longer than Mr. Black in truth) I thought of him like Franklin Clinton from GTA5 with the attitude of Lamar Davis of the same video game. I hope you like the story.


Whitney Hart sits pleasantly on a bar stool gingerly sipping the harsh dirty grey goose martini. Glancing to the television in the hotel bar. Whitney smiles as she seeing the time.
Rising from her barstool. Whitney unfolds her beautiful frame a beautiful Indian silk dress cascades down her slender body a small slit along the side allows her left leg to push out. Revealing the tanned stocking leg she kept concealed.

Leaving the bar the gaze of everyone in the bar turned to her. Whitney had become immune to the stares of men and a handful of women. She had something some form of power that kept her an attentive piece.

Keeping herself in fashionable clothing did not help matters. Her budget allowed her to spend on lavish hand-made gowns and outfits by European and Asian designers. Such as the silk dress she wears. A beautiful red Indian silk with an emerald green trim. Her hair hung down to the center of her back in bouncing waves as she walked.

A few room service workers smile at her and give her a gentlemanly bow or curtsy before going on their way. Whitney glances at the card she had received from her client. He had specified he wanted her to be in the room first. This was certainly not an outrageous request.

She remembers the honorable judge Simpson. A Hugh Heffner wannabe. She smiles thinking of herself in a pink outfit and bunny ears.

Finding the room and sliding the key through she opens the door and walks forward. Seeing a big dark room she flicks the light on to find it had indeed been entered but a wonderful offering was on the bed. A large gift basket with a bottle of bubble soap. Body soap and shampoo all exclusive high-end stuff. Along with a note.

I am running late please enjoy a hot bath while I am away. Smiling Whitney goes to the balcony opens the door to let the steam and hot air out. She opens the door and begins to turn on the hot water. Smiling maybe she should give this client a little something extra. She began to smile as she removes the silk dress setting the garment on a coat hook on the edge of a railing. Starting the bath Whitney was not going to waste her client's generous hour.


an hour fifteen minutes later.



Whitney comes from the bath feeling exclusively refreshed opting to wear only a beautiful red teddy that pushed her bosom out. And she wraps a warm housecoat around her torso to keep her warm she walks from the bathroom to find nothing disturbed. As she was about to go to the bed to sit down and read.

A large hand clamps over her mouth as another arm wraps her mid-section holding her against him. Whitney struggles and fights. Trying to be released she flails against the bulk of a man holding. As the man hurled her onto the bed she found. This was certainly not what she had discussed with the client.

Rolling to her back her eyes grow wide as she witnesses’ the man who accosts her was certainly not the client. A large brooding African-American. Wearing a white sweater, a black and silver decorated t-shirt. A pair of sunglasses that did not hide his appearance. He had half-inch black hair shaved at the edges. A wannabe military cut.

Her focus quickly fell on the firearm in his hand. A large black piece of metal with an extending box from the grip in his hand. The man’s finger was on the trigger and all Whitney could think was please don’t let me die here!


“Hold still keep your mouth shut you will be okay alright” his hand was still clamped over her mouth. She did the best she could to nod and not whine. The man backs off of her holding the gun aimed at her head. Her mind was racing but could not focus on but one thing. Looking around she began to tremble as she thought of how she could get out of this. Looking straight to the door she stole glances at the man still aiming his gun at her.

“Put the gun down white!” a voice came from behind and both the gunman and Whitney turns wildly to stare at a lean handsome man wearing a black jumpsuit a shoulder pack hanging off his arm. And holding a rather unimpressive firearm between his two hands.

“Who you?” the dark-skinned gunman turns the firearm on the other man.

“This is my hit you betta get outta here while I still letz yu!” the darker man’s gangster slang was coming clear.

“You do not want to do this, my friend, your man Hot-Rod contacted my secretary and said you would need help with this one”

“The hell does Rod know, I got this”

While they held their exchange Whitney seen her chance. The Darker-skinned gunman had his eyes completely off her while the other gunman seemed to focus on the more foreboding gunman. She figured she could get out of the room.

Rising she began to slowly walk from the bed toward the edge of the bathroom. The room was considerably large. She had been padding the carpet she was about to make it from the edge to the closet to grab her bag before she watches.

The two men began to wrestle. Whitney found herself in awe over the display of their tenacity. She had expected the Fair-skinned gunman would throw a punch and the darker would shoot him in the chest but. The two men had dropped their guns and were exchanging fists and legs.

Realization struck hard. The two gunmen were killing each other she could turn and run for the door. She had just made it to the door when she heard a shout and felt a firm force push her against the wood of the door.

“Can we deal with her then kill each other later” she heard one of the gunmen speak before she found herself being pried off the door and dragged back onto the bed.

“Please no I won’t tell a soul I swear I keep a lot of secrets I won’t say a word of this” Whitney tries to barter but found their words were no longer in anger all their attention was turned on her.

Peering over her shoulder her eyebrows raised to find the two men had united in tying her up the Dark assassin was binding her feet. While the other man was tying her hands.

She had expected sticky tape or coarse rope but instead, her bindings were smooth silky fabric bound tight at her wrists before the two men sit her forward. Taking a good look at the two men now.

They were total opposites. Mr. White dressed lazily in Gangster style clothing. Oversized pants that hung down past his waist what she suspected was used to conceal the monster of a firearm he carries. The traditional gangster look from bad video games kids play. The only thing that made him look semi-professional was his sunglasses shielding the color of his eyes.

Mr. Black seemed more prim-proper. His black jumpsuit was ironed and without wrinkles. He wore steel toe boots laces tied up the pant sleeves tucked in. A tactical belt around his waist. A small firearm hung from a shoulder strap. While a large more combative size firearm was on his hip. His dark brown hair was combed forward half shielding his forehead and what the hair did not cover. An operatic half-mask concealed his eyes, cheeks nose leaving only his chin.

“Apologies ma’am we did not mean to get rough with you I just need you to play along for just a little while” Whitney’s face contorted with disbelief she looked to the darker-skinned man who still seemed quite angry in his appearance.

“Can one of you explain what the bloody hell is going on here” the fair-skinned man raises a hand to her mouth stopping her subtly.

“Do not curse, you may refer to me as Mr. Black the gentleman who harassed you earlier is Mr. White”

“Mr. Black and Mr. White, what is this some bad nineties comedy, suppose I am Miss Grey” Whitney found herself snickering as the darker man steps forward

“bitch shut up unless you want a spread of forty-five lead in your chest”

“Lay hand on her White and I will strike you down myself” watching the two men Whitney could tell there was a strain, the two men did not care for each other yet they were now working together?

“Where was I oh yes my apologies, I hired you to come to this room I am the one who set up the bath supplies” Mr. Black began to explain a man big in the corporate espionage scene was coming to this room as well. He was in hiding because the number of companies had been begun to show signs of aggression towards him.

The man had two teams of private security guarding him. A team of four would see to his safety. While a team of six was outside to act as backup getaway services.

Mr. Whites associate one by the codename Hot-Rod. Was big in the markets and used Mr. White as an operative to take out potential targets to make the stock markets boom in their favor.

The high profile risk of this operation. And someone has been trailing Mr. White Hot-Rod had taken the consideration of contacting Miss Satin. Paying a commission for a job. Now Mr. Black stood here in the same room as Mr. White.

Mr. White was still not pleased over the fact someone else was taking over his job.

“You know dog, I’ve done a thing or two this shit ain’t exactly new to me!” the man glances over his shoulder at Mr. White and nods

“yes I have seen your resume, and I will simply say, all I see when I look it over? A traditional American attitude when it comes to killing, pump enough lead into your target you’ll do fine you do not worry about research or contingencies”

“Like what,” Mr. White asks annoyed Whitney had been testing her bonds. The ankles scarves had been coming loose, while her wrists were still tight and secure. So she decided to listen to Mr. Black’s lesson.

“You were planning on coming in here with that one-handed machine gun and wipe out your target, do you know how many guards he has?”

“No”

“Do you know what he carries for protective measures?”

“No”

“Any idea of what his escape and evasion plan is?”

“NO!” Mr. White snarls grabbing Black by the arm the man stands up and slaps Mr. Whites hand away,

“I could kill you, you know that dog?”

Mr. Black's only response was a combination of a punch to the stomach and a hand sword to the neck hurtling him to the floor. Whitney’s eyes grew wide on Mr. Black who simply steps over the other man taking his gun from his waistband and checks is pockets for the clips the man carried. Setting them all on the bedside table. Mr. Black grabs a chair from the corner and sets it down in front of Whitney.

“Now Miss Hart< there is certainly a way out of this for you” the man states rolling his shoulders and folding his hands on his lap. The way a lawyer might or perhaps a salesman.

“Play along with my scheme for the night, explain what happens to the targets security force, tell no one about Mr. White or myself, and I can clear away enough to give you fifty thousand dollars”

“You know Mr. Black, I earn six figures working four days a week”

“I know you do, I believe your network is certainly impressive, however, I need you to understand I am only earning a seventy-five thousand for this particular job. Especially after I have already paid you the two hundred grand for this certain parley” Whitney’s eyebrows raised and she nods licking her lips she looks Mr. Black in the eyes. They were calm cool blue eyes they did not impress upon violence only informed he was capable of it.

“So you pay me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars...”

“No only fifty, I already paid your two hundred thousand”

“Right, you give me two hundred fifty dollars to keep my mouth shut and play along with whatever you are doing and I will survive?”

“Yes,” Whitney examines the face of Mr. Black she did not see anything to distrust. However, Whitney Hart had been around the block more than once and she knew not to trust the book by the cover. Maybe try and read the description on the back.

“So what is your plan Mr. Black?” the man sat on the edge of the bed and explained in brief how she would be a gift from a thankful corporation for the boosting in stock market price. He would begin to make love to her before Mr. Black comes in and give him a dose of epinephrine. If the overdose of adrenaline did not kill him, when the men rush him to the medics they would give him the paddles. The paddles would do the trick.

“How do you do this, earn a living off killing?” Whitney asks looking him in the eyes the man did not flinch he did not tick his jaw or grind his teeth no signs of irritation grew over him.

“As a younger man I had a desire to help people, I had no outlet to do it, when I was in high school a girl was abused by her father I helped her I got the police involved, wound up sending her to the Intensive care ward... so I did the only thing I could think of”

“You killed him?” the man nods a smile almost cracks the corners of his lips.

“Well, technically the Vodka I had put in his desk” the girl's eyebrows rose disbelief over her face. As he stands while rolling the sleeves up on his shirt.

“His car was found wrapped around a boulder at the bottom of a ravine” he turns and grabs a ball gag from the bedside table. Whitney looks up to him “you do not need that”

“Do you promise?” Whitney eyes him warily and nods “cross my heart”

setting the ball gag aside he sits on the chair across from her crossing his ankles he laces his fingers over his chest.

“Now tell me, Miss Hart, why do you sell your body for sex you are beautiful quite educated to be able to make such funds, and not get caught”

“Oh I have been caught, this” shaking the bonds on her wrists

“This is evidence of me getting captured, I am just usually a little better skilled at either slipping out of it or bartering out” Whitney smiles looking to Mr. Black who sat quietly.

“I was born from a small coal mining community, I learned quickly you became the poor wife of a sober miner or a drunk miner” the cynical voice of Whitney's tone seemed to intrigue Mr. Black as he sat forward curiously

“while the sober miner was less likely to beat you, the drunk miner was less likely to fill you full of children” Mr. Black gave a nod and asks softly.

“I take it you do not want children?” Whitney shakes her head “I fear I lack the tender nurturing parts of being a woman” sitting forward Whitney finds herself fighting tears. Without a word Mr. Black draws a kerchief from his breast pocket wiping the tear from her eyes Whitney was not sure whether to be taken back by his tenderness or ashamed that she was letting emotion get the better of her. Sniffling she raises her chin and looks him in the eyes.

“I wanted to be a singer like Loretta Lynn. So I went to Nashville” a familiar story. Nashville was filled with aspiring country music singers.

“I met some men in the business they promised to make me a star, slept with them. Extorted them for money and well, here I am” she grins gently. A ruckus alerts the two to Mr. White rousing from his painful condition.

“I’m gonna make you bleed boy” Mr. White snarls raising a fist to strike. Mr. White blocks the attack and inserts a needle into the man's neck.

“You are going to sit and settle or I plunge all six millimeters of the chemical through your veins send you to cardiac arrest when the paramedics try to revive you you’ll choke on your tongue” the darker-skinned man's eyebrows rose.


“Calm down” Mr. Black spoke again affirming his command over the younger man. Taking a deep breath the darker-skinned man nods “alright can you let me go dog” pulling the needle out. Black wipes the tip-off with a sterilized cloth.

“Now that I have you calm and conscious let us get to business Mr. White, we have about ten to twenty minutes before the target will be coming up with his squadron of guards”

“Okay so you take the closet I’ll take the bathroom catch’em in the crossfire” he motions with a lazy hand and Mr. Black rolls his eyes.

“No just no guns yet I promise we will shoot a few rounds off later but first, we do this professional Miss Hart...” Whitney turns to face the two killers looking Black in the eyes gleaming behind the black mask. Kneeling the man asks “will you co-operate?”

“Yes!” Whitney affirms softly looking to Mr. White who still seemed apprehensive. Mr. Black nods “alright we best untie you then”

“Wait no look in my bag there is a set of play cuffs bring them out and the purple velvet sleep mask” Mr. Black began to rifle the bag pillaging a small sack with two sets of sleek metal cuffs and the mask.

“Now untie my arms and cuff my hands together. In front put the sleep mask over my eyes take note and stick it to my chest” Mr. White was taken back by her recommendation.

Removing her bindings they rub the circulation back into her wrists. Before lightly cuffing her hands with the metal cuffs applying the sleep mask. Whitney finds herself calm and almost relaxed as Mr. White presses a hand to her chest gently pushing her down.

“I...I sorry for my hurting you, I’m used to dealing with screaming girls and shoutin and the like”

“Apologies accepted” Whitney manages licking her lips and Mr. Black approaches softly “I am pressing this to your chest do not be alarmed the men will take one look at the note and they will drop their guard. No harm will come to you”

“come along Mr. White we have two minutes and counting” she hears the two men rush out to the balcony. Why the balcony, sure enough, the men guarding this high profile witness will check the balcony and see they are hiding there?

Calm and composed. The door opened and Whitney's heart skips and sputters as she hears several hard paced footsteps then a tense man said.

“Send him in!” Five more sets of feet came into the room and she felt the heat of another man's presence.

“Enjoy Don Salvatore... the man does know how to spoil his friends what is your name miss?” Whitney froze if she told them her real name these gunmen could track her easily. She was used to playing the false names with other men wanting her to act like other women, their sisters, aunts' mothers even perverted fools.

“Emily... I am a present for you” smiling seductively.

“Very nice you can leave gentlemen it is quite clear the young lady is not hiding any poisoned blades in her moneymaker” the man smiles cockily. Suddenly Whitney found herself smiling to herself. I may want to see you die you prick.


After two short moments, the sound of a parade left the room with a final goodnight to their ward. All Whitney had to do was wait as she felt the man's hands rub and caress around her body. Then she realized. I am handcuffed blindfolded and barely dressed for a man I can’t even see. Maybe he’s butt-ugly or got awful teeth. She trembled at the next touch and the man grabs her forcefully.

“Why you shaking like a leaf, I promise you, baby, by the time the night is over you’ll be pay-paying me” the man spoke in a slur as he rustled with his belt and pants.

Suddenly one heavy set of footsteps came into the room and she felt a weight crash onto the bed.

“Ma’am you may wanna keep your blindfold on” Mr. Whites American-slang came through grunts and gasps.

“He is right ma’am you will not want to see what this looks like” Whitney did not care her bound hands reach for her blindfold to pull up revealing three men Mr. White on one side Mr. Black on the other and in the middle a thin black-haired young man his brown eyes wide with desperation. Mr. White with gloved hands held the man's left arm and the man's nose and mouth while Mr. Black held onto the other wrist and the same syringe deep into the man's neck.

“Nuphf plephf nophf!” Mr. Black looks down on Whitney and snarls “please put the blindfold back on! I am going to set him next to you, wrap your arms around his neck and start to cuddle”

“Cuddle him like this?” Whitney asked in mild outrage and Mr. Black grimaces.

“He is suffering a cardiac arrest, caused by the excitement of a beautiful young woman in about a half-hour his men will come into the room to drag him out. Here is the key to your cuffs hold it under your tongue until they are gone alright” Mr. Black places a key up to her mouth accepting it and hiding it as he said. The man gently tugs the blindfold back down.

Within a few minute's she heard the two men leave and the balcony door close. Reaching her arms around the man he began to stutter and stammer struggling to find words through his gargle.


Ten Minutes Later

Mr. Black POV


Jason walks with his temporary Protege. Walking to the back of the man's rented car. Jason pops the hood to reveal a small selection of long-barrelled firearms.

“Oh-hellz yeah get the blam-blam on with these” the kid grabs the first gun he sees an AK machine gun. Smiling he looks over the gun “I like this part of the job” rolling his eyes Jason rips the big machine gun from his grip and hands him a UZI.

“Why can’t I use a big gun?”

“Because an assault rifle is a medium to long_range weapon we are going close quarters besides all you will do is spray and pray”

“You know what dog f**k you” Jason grabs a small automatic shotgun.

“We are going to drive around back of the building”

“But I thought all of the target's dudes were back there?” Mr. White asks a look of dumb confusion on his face.

“They are we want to get their attention, open fire on them so the guards will burst into his room realize he is having a cardiac arrest. They will try and take him to the hospital but if they can resuscitate him they will more than likely turn him vegetable”

“Man, I don’t why we even bothering with this, you put the juice in him all we do now is wait?”

“Its called Covering your tracks, an attempt on his life was met with defeat but the man dies from natural causes a coincidence that no one will think twice about how things played out, if someone was after him they would not have gotten through his security detail by showing a small band using big guns!” demonstrating with the shotgun in his hands.

“Failed to break through now quiet yourself and let's go to work” Jason slams the trunk door getting into the car the two drive around the corner and burst to the back entrance. Gunfire erupts the team of seven or more men ready their sidearms and small-arms on the two assassins.

Mr. White opens rapid-fire shots on the targets while Mr. Black simply crouches down and lays clever suppressive fire on the targets. After both men run out of ammunition in their guns they turn and run.


Moments later.

Miss Hart POV.


The man lay nearly lifeless in her arms. She hears the door burst in and the guards rush in.

“Dammit he’s pitchin a fit!” guard one shouts while guard two commands they need to get to a doctor. It did not take long for the burst of men rushing into the room to take the man from the bedroom.

Feeling her arm being thrown off she heard the men shouting, cursing, and grunting as they scurry out the door. Waiting a few minutes Whitney thought it would be best to sit and wait. A few minutes. In case there was someone in the room with her.

“Hello?” she asks blankly to receive simple silence. Opening her mouth she draws the key and unlocks her cuffs. Rising from the bed removing her blindfold. Her eyes blink several times trying to focus on the dimness of the room.

Looking to the desk where a bundle of clothing had been placed. Getting up Whitney crosses the room to see the garments laid out a folded envelope on top. Opening it Whitney smiles to see a cheque for what she was owed and a note.


Put these garments on act flamboyant and high-strung. Cause a scene and no one will think twice of you leaving. Thank you for your assistance Miss Hart.

My Best Wishes. Mr. Black.


Examining the clothing. Whitney smiles Mr. Black certainly has a decent fashion taste. If not a small hint of scandalously open.

Ten minutes later.

Whitney walks through the lobby wearing an almost scantily clad dress sides revealed and her chest bouncing with the lack of a bra. Her hair was concealed cleverly in a Kelly Grace styled headscarf the knot at her neck appeared like a flower in bloom. The woman smiles as every man gave her a wide-eyed look. Several of them bodyguards and police officers. They all see her but to Whitney's surprise. No one said a word as she struts from the elevator to the front door.

Must be true. It's so Overt it is Covert. Whitney smiles lowering the headscarf to walk down the street.