Disclaimer: The following story is fiction. The characters are not meant to represent any real persons. I do not own the characters and make no money from this story. This is just a story.

Summary: A re-imagining of the fight scene between Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith where they play married assassins trying to kill each other.

Warning: Violent story ending in rape and character death. Read at your own risk.

Angelina Jolie as Jane Smith
Brad Pitt as John Smith

Codes: MF, anal, viol, rape, snuff

Mr. & Mrs. Smith: The Re-Write Series
by Dbud (feedback requested)

John Smith watched as his wife closed the rear door that led to the kitchen and retreated back inside the house. He watched from behind a large elm tree, concealed in the shadows it cast; it was after all well after midnight. Once he was sure she was back inside and not looking, he moved through the brush towards the back of the house he shared with Jane Smith, his wife.

He reached the window to his office. Looking inside and seeing no movement, he broke one of the window panes out. Slinking back down, he waited to see if Jane had heard the sound. After twenty or so seconds, it seemed safe so he reached inside through the broken pane, slipped the lock and opened the window.

Slipping inside, John Smith moved quickly. He was one of the top assassins in the world. Also, ironically, he was married to a woman who was also a top government assassin. They had been married for over four years and just recently found out who the other was. For the better part of two days, Jane had been trying to end his life. She came close several times in fact. Now she was barricaded in their home and waiting for him to arrive.

Now inside his office, he pressed a hidden button and a secret compartment opened. Moving quickly but as quietly as he could, he pulled a hidden gun out. Loading it and clicking a silencer into place, he moved out into the hallway with the gun leading the way.

The house was dark with just enough light to see by. He knew Jane was waiting for him somewhere in the house. He moved down the hall towards the stairway assuming Jane might have taken cover on the second floor.

Reaching the end of the hall, he crouched at the corner. Removing a picture on a shelf over his head, he held it out in front of him using the glass as a reflection to see what was around it.

Jane Smith pulled her dress up over her knees as she crouched at the top of the stairs. She moved the sub machine gun slung over her shoulder and hanging behind her so she could take a comfortable position. Raising the shotgun she held, she pointed it at the end of the hall. She knew John would come to the stairway and he had to come around that corner and she was waiting.

There was a quick flash of light as John moved the picture to try and see around the corner. Jane opened fire...




She blew three large holes in the wall that separated the foyer from the hallway. Jane loaded a fourth shell into the chamber but paused.

John Smith ducked as the wall exploded over his head. Three shotgun blasts went off, ripping through the drywall. Once they stopped...

"You okay baby?" she called out to her husband hoping he was dead.

John began rattling his gun on the floor and made soft moaning sounds...

"Ohhhhh, uggghhhh, ahhhhh."

Jane lowered the shotgun, a smile crossing her lips as she thought she had gotten him.

'Man, that was easy,' she thought to herself. Then seeing his face appear in the newly made hole in the wall...


Jane screamed as she saw the tip of John's silencer come into view. Throwing her body to the side, John opened fire.


He fired as Jane rolled, his shots narrowly missing her. Springing to her feet, she opened fire with the shotgun and moved down the steps, closing on John's position. She had him outgunned, he knew that and sprang up and ran back down the hall. Jane reached the corner and spun around leading with her gun. She was prepared to fire but John wasn't there.


She surveyed the house, letting her ears try to pick up any sounds she could. Nothing. John was good; he wasn't making a sound.

John crept in the hall on the opposite side of the wall. As he moved, trying to get a sense of her position, he ever so slightly tapped a small glass teapot they had been given as a wedding gift. It slipped off the edge of the china cabinet they had bought on a trip to South America. Lunging out, he grabbed it before it could hit the floor and give away his position. He managed to catch it but not before the lid of the teapot rolled off and broke in two.


It was more than enough noise to alert Jane to his location. On the other side of the wall, Jane ratcheted back the slide on the shotgun. John, hearing the unmistakable noise of a shotgun being cocked, dove for cover just as the wall exploded behind him.


Jane fired over and over through the wall. The china cabinet was ripped into shreds as she blasted holes in the plaster. John reached the end of the hall and flung himself around the corner. Diving to the floor, he spun and landed on his rear and let his momentum and the well waxed floor carry him towards the kitchen as he turned and raised his gun towards Jane at the other end.

He opened fire...Krak! Krak!

Jane, dove for cover herself, dropping her shotgun and letting it skitter across the floor and into the living room. Rolling up, she pulled the sub-machine gun from her back. As she reached her feet she came up firing.


The gun made a whirring sound as she advanced on John's position in the kitchen. Grabbing the heavy metal door of the refrigerator and opening it, he took cover as twenty bullets fired by Jane thunked into it each one popping a small indentation in the metal.

Jane stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, pausing only to reload. John took the moment to dive behind the counter island in the middle of the room. Dropping his pistol as it was empty he scoured through the drawers for any weapon he could find. His hand closed on the handle of a meat cleaver and as Jane stepped round the corner he flung it at her head.


The thick blade sunk deep into the wood of the door frame, only inches from Jane's face as she sprayed the room with gun fire.

John crouched behind the island, taking cover as she ripped the kitchen apart with dozens of bullets.

"You shoot like you cook darling!" he yelled at her.

Jane stepped back behind the wall as she reloaded for a second time. In the respite that gave John, he reached up and pulled the metal hose of the gas line from its anchor under the counter. Pointing it upward, he ducked and directed the hose towards the door.

Jane unhooked the shoulder strap from her machine gun and pointed it over her shoulder and opened fire again. Stepping into the kitchen, she was suddenly met by the gigantic fireball that filled the air in the kitchen.


Jane half dove and was half blown off her feet back into the dining room by the explosion. Lying on the floor, she shook her head to clear it and quickly recovered and sprang to her feet just as John leapt through the remaining flames, his white shirt singed and burning. He launched himself into Jane, driving his knee into her chest and forcing her back.


Jane grunted as she felt the tip of his knee drive into her. John grabbed the back of Jane's dress and spun, flinging her as hard as he could muster into the wall. Jane's head slammed into the plaster as he jerked her backwards and threw her into the opposite wall, Jane's head knocking a picture off its mounting.


Jane yelled out as John spun again and threw his wife over their dining room table. Jane's body went airborne as she sailed over the table cloth and bounced off the tabletop and to the floor on the other side.

Jane pushed herself up, ignoring the pain in her body and the cut on her forehead as John stepped around the table, lording over her.

"Come on baby. Come to daddy!"

He took a fighting stance standing over her. Jane had her back to him to conceal her actions as she grabbed a candlestick from the floor, the one she had knocked off the table a she crashed into it. Wrapping it in the table cloth, she stood and spun. Using the weighted cloth as a weapon, it connected with John's chin, dazing him. Lifting her leg, she kicked out hard and drove him back. John was sent reeling backward; his body crashing into the glass shelves of a display case.

Jane looked down at him, smirking, "Whose your daddy now bitch?!?!"

Jane turned and sprinted towards the living room. John jumped to his feet too, knowing she was going after one of the guns and that he had to stop her. Jane reached the sofa and grabbed the handle of her shotgun just sticking out from underneath it. She dropped to her knees and slid across the floor towards the weapon.

Grabbing it, she spun as she chambered a shell. She raised it but before she could fire, John reached her and kicked the barrel of the gun before she could get it pointed at him.


The shotgun fired but the metal shot only blew a hole in the wall. Grabbing the gun, he ripped it from her hands and tossed it aside.

"Come on baby, we shouldn't settle this with guns. This is personal!"

Jane sprang to her feet and launched herself at him, "That's okay with me asshole!"

She threw a punch at John's throat. If it had connected it would have crushed his windpipe. He blocked it as she spun and kicked out behind her and tried to drive her heel into his sternum. Again, though, John brought his arm down and blocked the blow.

Jane came around and as she set to attack again, John shifted and took her by the hair. Using it as an anchor, he lifted her from her feet driving his knee into her gut.


Jane's face twisted in pain as she felt his knee slam into her abdomen.


John smiled as she involuntarily let a sound of pain slip from her large bee-stung lips. She would never willingly make such a noise, so hearing one forced from her was great for him.

Jane had been trained to ignore pain though; fighting through it she spun and tried to catch the back of John's head with her elbow. But his knee to her gut had taken a toll on her and she was not as quick as she normally would have been. John was able to step back at the last instant and her blow missed his skull.

As she regained her footing, Jane's head snapped backward, first once and then a second time as John snapped two right jabs into the her face. Blood began to trickle from her left nostril and her knees began to sway slightly. Jane took a few steps backward to keep from toppling over and to regain her balance.

John, seeing her unsteadiness, drove forward and shoved his wife hard. Jane felt herself thrown backwards and she slammed into the wall of the living room. He quickly followed up with a series of punches to Jane's stomach before she could recover.




Jane grunted as he delivered three uppercuts to her well formed and rock hard abdomen muscles. Jane's entire body jerked and flinched as he drove his knuckles into her gut. Determined not to give up, Jane Smith lashed out trying to land a blow to John's face but with the beating she had been taking the punch was slow and awkward and John was easily able to side step it. A left cross slammed into Jane's pretty face sending a spray of blood from her mouth and nose as she was spun and dropped to her knees.

Jane fell forward onto her hands. She was retching and shaking her head, trying to regain her breath and her senses. She could tell John was there. His footsteps were only a few feet away.

"Do you have any idea what it's been like being married to you Jane?"

He took her by the hair and pulled her head up so he could look into her face. She seemed dazed but conscious.

"Huh? Do you, you bitch? I mean you have to be the most controlling manipulative cunt I've ever met. Seriously."

John let her go and Jane fell back to her hands and knees.

"W-well, it-it's not like you've been a great husband either."

"WHAT?!?!? Oh please, don't give me that. Trust me, I've put up with so much crap from you it isn't even funny. Hell, while you've been busy trying to kill me I've even been trying to reconcile. What a moron I am!"

"May-maybe we still can baby?" Jane looked up and smiled seductively.

John stepped forward and drove his foot upward into her ribs as hard as he could. Jane was lifted up and flipped over as she felt a 'crunch' as he cracked two of her ribs.


"Please! You've been trying to kill me for two days!"

As John stood over her, Jane moved towards the coffee table...

'Just a little closer,' she thought to herself.

She reached under the tabletop and grabbed the gun she had hidden there. As an assassin and never knowing when or where an attack could come from, she had stashed weapons all over the house.

She rolled onto her back and raised the gun. It was a small one, only a 22 caliber, but it would do the trick.

Pop Pop

She fired twice but John ducked and dove, coming right at her. She tried to adjust quickly enough but her ribs were killing her and slowing her down. Next thing she knew he was on her. John rolled across the floor and came to a kneeling position next to her with his left knee between her shoulder blades. Catching her wrist, he twisted her arm in hands. He forced her outstretched arm to the side and held it there...

Pop Pop Pop

Jane couldn't help but keep firing, even though the bullets were striking the wall across the room and not her husband. After another three The gun's slide locked open and the gun was empty.

John grabbed the weapon and pulled it free, prying it from Jane's fingers. Tossing it aside, he moved quickly, twisting Jane's right arm and locking her elbow as he made sure her arm was straight.


Applying pressure...SNAP!


Jane Smith's arm broke and her elbow bent backwards unnaturally.

"You fucking cunt! I should have known I couldn't trust you!"

"Oh god John! My ARM!"

"You say you want to make up and then go for a gun."

He let her go and Jane slumped to the floor, her arm twisted awkwardly behind her. Jane was panting and gasping for breath.

"P-please John we, we can talk about this..."

John grabbed his wife by the hair and yanked her to her feet.

"YAH!" she screamed out in pain as her whole body was in agony and her broken arm was forced to move painfully.

"What? Are you serious?"

John looked at her with resignation, "Did you ever love me? Or was it all bullshit?"

"Of course I did baby. Please let's just..."

John took the light fabric of Jane's dress and tore it down the middle. She stood, shocked as her dress was ripped nearly free of her. Jane instinctively covered herself, which was almost funny for a woman who had routinely fucked her targets or their security to get close enough to kill them.

"What are you doing? John please!"

"Let's have one last roll in the hay, whaddya say babe?"

Jane turned and tried to run, heading for the kitchen and ultimately the rear door of the house and escape. John let her get almost to the doorway leading to the kitchen before he caught her from behind and shoved her hard. Jane was tossed forward into the island in the middle of the room; the edge of the granite slamming into her gut and knocking the wind from her again.


John took the edge of her dress from behind her and ripped it free, tearing the garment completely off her. Jane was left in nothing but her panties, totally naked otherwise.

He eyed his wife's body with a leer. She was beautiful. That was one of her best weapons; she could always manipulate men to get close enough to take them out. She had long lean legs and full heavy tits. Her hair was thick and full and even in its current unkempt state, looked sexy. Jane's face while currently battered and bloody, was normally striking. Alluring eyes, full plump lips and smooth alabaster skin; few could doubt her beauty.

"You always were a looker Jane."

"Fuck you!"

She spun and tried to hit him again, but it was no use. With only her left arm still workable and after the beating she had taken, the punch sailed past John's face missing him by more than six inches. John took her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. At the same time, he kicked her legs out from under her and forced her to the floor of the kitchen.

"No, John stop!"

Pushing Jane down onto her back, he forced himself between her thighs. With his left hand, he covered her mouth, tired of hearing Jane's manipulations. With his right he grabbed her lacy black panties and ripped them free of her. Next, he fumbled with his zipper to open his pants and pulled his erection out. A few jerks and he was completely hard.

Jane's eyes were wide and she made a muffled squeal.

"Oh come on Jane. It's not rape! I'm your husband."

John snapped his hips up and forward and drove his cock deep inside Jane's pussy.


She made more muffled cries as he took her. Jane's entire body went rigid as she was forced to service her husband. She knew he was going to try and kill her, that she could handle, but she never expected this. Jane's eyes were large as she stared daggers through him. She could see the hatred he had for her on his face as he penetrated her one last time.

"OH yeah baby! That's so good!"

John began humping his wife hard and fast, driving his cock deep into her over and over. On the tiled floor of the kitchen he rode Jane wildly pinning her one good arm and covering her mouth.

"UGH, Naaaaaa, STTPPPPP!"

She was yelling through his hand, trying to mount some resistance. Tears began to flow from the corner of her eyes as she looked up at the face of the man who she had lived with for over four years now.

"You know Jane I think this is the first time I've ever seen you cry."

He was right, it was the first time. Jane had never been sentimental. It didn't serve well to be emotional and be in the business she was in. But this was different. The man she loved, or at least came as close to love as Jane Smith was capable of, was violating her.

He removed his hand from her mouth and braced his body with both hands on the floor, allowing him to thrust even harder into Jane's cunt. John began pounding into her. It had been a long time since he had fucked his wife like this. Early in their relationship, she was eager for sex and their fucking was raw and relentless.

Quickly after getting married though, things had changed. Jane had become an uptight bitch quite frankly. Sex was little more than perfunctory and rare.

But not today, John was thrusting hard and fast giving Jane all he could.

"STOP! YOU FUCKER!" she screamed up at him as she struggled.

He looked down at her, beads of sweat dripping from the tip of his nose, "AW, what's the matter baby? Don't you want to make up anymore!?!?"

He was mocking her and that only enraged Jane even further. She was not a woman used to being made fun of.

Abruptly, John pulled his cock free from her. Before she could wonder what he had planned, he took her by the upper part of her broken arm and used it to flip her onto her front.


Jane screamed as a new horrible pain ripped through her as her shattered joint was twisted. As Jane fought not to pass out, John mounted her from behind. Pressing his hand against the side of her head, he forced her face against the debris filled floor of the kitchen.

She could feel him moving and positioning himself on top of her.

"SPREAD YOUR LEGS! SPREAD 'EM BITCH!" he screamed at her.

Using his knees he forced her legs apart even as she struggled to stop him from doing so.

"JOHN!?!? WHAT? What are you doing? JOHN! NO!"

She could hear her husband grunting as she felt his manhood slipping between her ass cheeks. John wrapped his hand around his cock and used it to guide the tip past her tight firm buttocks and into her rectum. Jane clenched her sphincter but with her body covered with sweat it was no use; she was too slick to stop him from entering her asshole.

Once he felt the tip of his cock inside her, he took her good arm in his free hand and pressed it down, pinning Jane to the floor. Once he had her held in place, John raised his hips and thrust upward sharply.


Jane squealed as she felt an incredible pain in her ass as she was forced to take every inch he could cram into her rear.


"You like that huh?!?! DO YOU BITCH!?!"

John began humping Jane's ass forcing his cock into her with hard long thrusts. Jane stopped yelling at him perhaps realizing there was no point. She was grunting and moaning along with his thrusts though, unable to prevent herself from giving voice to her violation.

After another few minutes, John began making noises that Jane recognized. He forced his cock deep causing Jane's face to contort in pain as she felt the tip push against some sensitive part of her insides. Once in, he held it and began to work his hips up and down instead of in and out.

"OH FUCK! Oh Jesus!"

John felt his orgasm cresting. He rode Jane's ass hard as he felt an incredible climax burst out of his cock. Under him, Jane felt the warm slick sensation that she hadn't felt in years as John exploded in her rectum.

Finally, John collapsed on top of her, panting and grunting in her ear. He eased up with his hand, no longer pushing her head down, allowing Jane to turn her face so as to not have to look at him as he savored his pleasure.

After another long minute, John climbed off her and stood. Jane sat up giving him a look that he had seen before, although it was usually when he forgot to bring home milk as requested before dinner.

"You bastard!"

John simply smiled, seemingly very satisfied with himself. He stepped to the refrigerator, opened it he pulled a cracked pitcher of orange juice from a shelf and took a cup from a peg under the cabinets. Pouring himself some, he leaned against the counter and began to gulp it down as his cock hung free from his pants.

Jane reached up with her good arm and took the counter edge as she used it to help pull herself to her feet. Jane flinched as her weight came onto her legs and she felt a sharp pain in her rear. Standing on her wobbly legs, she stared at her husband, neither of them saying a word.

John drained the juice from the mug and as he turned to set it in the sink Jane saw her chance. Grabbing a kitchen knife from the counter, she lunged at John intent of driving the blade into her husband's back. John, though, was ready for her, anticipating the attack. He stepped to the side and spun, catching her wrist in his hand, he re-directed it upward and back towards his attacker.


Jane grunted as she fell forward against the counter. Her eyes were huge as her mind registered an incredible pain in her gut. Looking down, she saw the handle of the 8 inch knife jutting from her abdomen just below her belly button; the accompanying blade was not evident, buried in her flesh.

"Oh god!"

Jane staggered back as her body went into shock. Wrapping her fingers around the knife handle, she was quivering as she pulled it free from her stomach. The pain she was in was evident from the expression on her face. Finally, she pulled it completely out of her and dropped the knife to the floor as she turned and began to stagger towards the backdoor of the house.

Behind her, John bent down and picked up the handgun he had dropped earlier in the fight. He discharged the empty clip as he pulled a fresh and fully loaded one from his belt. Jane apparently heard the unmistakable sound and turned, barely able to remain on her feet.

Seeing the handgun...

"Please John. It doesn't have to be like this. We can still get away."

John stepped up and kissed his wife deeply, the blood dripping from her lips smeared on his face as he did so.

Stepping back, "Sorry babe. I guess it's time to wrap this up."

He raised the gun, letting the slide click into place.

"Please John, I lo..."


John fired and Jane's head snapped back. The rear wall of the kitchen was suddenly covered with an explosion of thick red goo as Jane's brains and blood were blown out the fist sized hole that suddenly appeared in the back of her head. Jane's stood for a second, her body stiff and her face blank until she slumped to the floor, her arms and legs twisted into a heap.

John stood for a second over her body, looking down at the corpse that up until a few seconds ago was his wife.

Then, with resignation, he set the gun on the counter and walked to the living room. Less than five minutes later, three men dressed in all black and carrying large assault weapons burst through the front door to his home. John looked up from the armchair he was sitting in. These were the lead team of the clean-up crew John had called in after he had poured a drink.


The men all stood at attention when they saw him, "Where is she sir?"

John jerked his thumb towards the back of the house and two of the men turned and ran down the hall. John looked down at the large leather bound book in his lap. He looked at the large photo of the woman in a white wedding dress and the man in a tuxedo. Lifting his glass, he downed the dark brown liquid in it as he stood and closed the wedding album.

Setting the glass on the side table, John Smith handed the album to the soldier as he turned to leave the house.

"Sir? What should I do with this?" the perplexed mercenary asked as he held up the photo book.

"Burn it."

The End.


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