Post by Jack'Aran on Dec 10, 2012 11:25:19 GMT -5
The Egyptian: Craig had decided that it was long overdue for Amunet to have herself a vacation. He told her that she could pick a location, any spot on the globe for her to travel to, and he would pay for it in full. She had spent a few days at the Coast home in Malibu before being whisked off to Spain. There, she spent over a month wandering through the famous landmarks in the rich and beautifully built land. Amunet marveled at the architectural structure of the Burgos Cathedral and was speechless while moving through the Canary Islands. Her hues softened at the sights of the Alcazar of both Segovia and Seville. She even hurried to steer clear of the running bulls on parade in Pamplona City. Amunet’s feet touched as much Spanish soil as she was allotted, chatted with the locals in the Old City of Salamanca and listened to wise men outside of the Great Mosque of Cordoba. At the end of her trip, within the last few days, she stayed in a beautiful Suite upon the Costa del Sol. She felt light and free
The Egyptian: of burden. The weather was mild, and warm with a kiss of humidity that made her skin shine. She felt at ease, though never at peace and had been thankful that for the time being, Craig actually left her alone for the duration of her trip. However, as soon as her jet touched down in Los Angeles, she was greeted by a faint smile from Craig and at least three files of potential threats and targets. She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, slipping them from his hands and walking past him. Craig frowned and walked after her, grabbing her luggage from claims and nearly running to catch up with her. His car was outside the terminal, illegally parked, but a cop was standing nearby, watching it for him. Amunet glared, “Really? You paid the cop not to give you a ticket for parking illegally?” Craig smirked, “Well, why not? I had the money, and figured that you wouldn’t want to walk in those high whatever you women call them.” He opened the door for her as she slid inside. Placing
The Egyptian: her bags into the trunk, he took a moment to sigh and bend down to rest his head upon the trunk of the car. How the hell was he going to tell her that he had Cancer? He shook the thought from his head. Amunet had enough tragedies in her life, and she didn’t need the burden of never really knowing if he would survive or not. He thanked the Traffic policeman and slid into the Driver’s seat, closing the door and turning on the car before speaking, “How was your trip?” He turned to look at her, but never made eye contact. Amunet pulled out her phone and turned it on before replying, “Warm. Spicy.” She sighed. If she couldn’t fall in love with anything or anyone else, she made and exception for Spain. “Spicy? That’s sudden. Do anything that I wouldn’t do?” He cracked a weak smile as he turned the winding road onto the 405 North, heading towards Sacramento. “Traveled the expanse of Spain, nearly? Yes. That.” She shook her head with a small laugh. The rest of the ride was silent, save for a
The Egyptian: save for a few words here and there. To her, he looked so tired. Something wasn’t right… The idea of pressing the issue made her a little hesitant. She wasn’t exactly sure if getting into an uncomfortable conversation on such a long ride was a good way to start off back from a hiatus. Though, she knew Craig well enough to see that something was bothering him. She had to veer the mood into something different, “Make any progress on the Amanti case?” She asked. Of course, business was the safest route, because for some reason, she found it highly frustrating that she just couldn’t connect with him on an emotional level. She mentally face palmed and awaited his answer. “No. And we nearly lost Derek because of his poor judgment. But, I can’t send you on every mission. Th—“ She interrupted him, “We aren’t perfect. There are going to be mistakes.” He shook his head, “He had a choice. It was easy, and he went another route.” She leaned back against the passenger door to look at him, “Would
The Egyptian: you talk about me the same to someone else, had I done what he did?” His hands tightened on the wheel, “You wouldn’t have. I know you.” She hissed, “How do you even know what situation he was in, for you to deem his decision—“ The next thing he did, shocked her, “WILL YOU STOP BEING A FUCKING MARTYR FOR EVERYONE?!? GODDAMNIT!” Amunet’s fist clenched, ready to defend herself in case he did the unthinkable. Craig looked down to see her fists clenched and immediately apologized several times, “I—I’m sorry, Ams.. I just… I’m sorry.” She turned her head away from him, pressing her forehead to the cold glass and said nothing more towards him for the remainder of the trip. {end.}
‘Mmm…L.A…The trip left me feeling energized from the sleep I caught up on. The heat contained within the city could rival that of Dallas. Beats the cold weather of Philadelphia or Chicago…The order sent me here for some undercover work…Searching for a man who knows the inside of South American drug cartel hooked up with their douchebag of a dictator. I guess if you’re power is absolute, why not be a dickhead to the mass? I know I would.’ –His filed nails perfectly treated, his fingers groomed despite calluses from bruises and damage dealt to them. Blood trickling down his wrist and into his handcuffed palm as a bearded man stood before him.- ‘He’s speaking a language I’m familiar with…I play dumb just to get a reaction. It’s the only entertainment I can get out of this job. Beats listening to Lady Gaga at the music awards.’ –A board made of two inch thick wood slapped across his face causing his face to flush red, but no blood.- <c>
“You stupid twit. I don’t understand you. How stupid must you be to not realize that I. Don’t. Speak. Spanish.” –His blue eyes lifted lazily towards the light as it flashed across his eyes and suddenly his hands were tracing along the skin of a woman’s backside. Lying next to her as she wore back lingerie she smiled at him before pressing her lips to his.- ‘Ohh, Agent Stryker…A spy’s dream. A sexy vixen acting as a Russian working for the Chinese, employed by the United States CIA…Lord, it was just what the doctor ordered. I will admit…I took my time with this assignment. Her real name was Lisa; she has 3 children and a husband who was clueless as to what her job really was about. She was a part of a covert mission during the early 2000’s. She hasn’t been at this job for as long as I have. <c>
I find bliss within her lips, the same sensation of entrapment that I have. I hear her words calling out and reminding me of my job. “Let’s run away together, far away.” Oh, if only you knew who I worked for…I can tell it’s eating her up inside, she wants me to give in. She knows and understands my pain, but she still knows I’m hiding the real me. For this personality; Daniel Woodland, I put elements of my personality into it…but he is not me. Daniel Woodland has my pain that she is eager to heal. She wants me to take off this mask, end this game of Cat and Mouse…I give in…I slide on top of her, my front locks to her hind quarters, the precious cheeks exposed and smooth. I slip my lips to her ear while my hands slip to her shoulders…I must not arouse suspicion. “Kyle-…” is all I say before I make another man live with depression… She was walking down a concrete stairs and broke her neck…I will forever remember the pain I receive from that day.<c>
From that moment forward all of the suffering I receive is retribution as I denied a demon her chance for salvation. I grow tired of this 300 pound gorilla beating me with his toy. I feel the spikes ripping my skin; it’ll hurt only for a second, so at least that’s what I tell myself. By the time I’m done, there won’t be evidence. Five men quickly become eight as more arrive, just in time. The cuffs break as my twelve inch blades rip through my skin and slash into the chains ripping them a part. With the swing of my right arm I stab the first man in the heart. 300 pound gorilla dies without a second of pain...less than what he deserved. My left arm stabs the foot of the man behind me forcing his gun to hit the floor. I dive to the floor and rip off his foot before bringing my blade back to my side. I watch him collapse as his ankle is no longer attached to his $500 brown slip-in shoe. <c>
Their guns aren’t yet drawn as I grab the gun landed on the floor I cap off two shots dropping two more before cocking the gun and ejecting a 3rd bullet. I hurl the gun at one pawn, he catches it; I grin while tumbling into a stand. The sound of a gun exploding and three men dropping to the floor; two dead, one scared shitless. Did I mention my tumbling stabbed the second guy? No? Oh. Forgot to mention that part...must’ve been through all of the excitement. I leap towards the next two who finally have their guns drawn, but they’re surprised by the sharpness of my blades cutting through their arms that both of them lose 10 lbs off one arm…This still doesn’t solve my problem that both are right handed. One right arm hits the floor bleeding and missing the attached bicep, another left arm in the same situation. <c>
A quick slash forces the remaining armed goon to bleed through his throat while acrobatic jumping over to my next victim, kicking both across the face dropping them to the ground. I spin and stand before the scared shitless man, covered in the blood of my own arms.’ –The German grabbed the man by the throat.- “You’re coming with me.”
The Egyptian: She couldn’t even comprehend what had happened in the car, but all she knew was that as soon as he came to a stop in front of the HQ building in Sacramento, she exited the car immediately. “Amunet, wait.” But there was no waiting for her. Bailey, ‘The Informant’ was standing outside, waiting to greet her with open arms. The brunette missed Amunet and wanted to chit chat with her about the vacation, but the way in which Amunet had been stalking towards her with such a vicious walk, left her with her lips slightly parted. Amunet glanced to Bailey with green-grey hues harboring some serious anger in which the brunette knew to give her some space. “She didn’t even get her bags..” Craig mumbled as he handed them off to Bailey. “Everything alright?” She asked, tugging on her shirt slightly, “I snapped at her Bail. I just… she defended Derek—..” Bailey sighed, “Oh no. You didn’t.” She shook her head and walked away from him. To Bailey, it wasn’t that he had even talked about Derek, it was
The Egyptian: it was the fact that Bailey knew about Craig’s illness. She knew that he was stressed out, and everyone in The Entourage knew about Craig’s illness, save Amunet. When Amunet walked into the main foyer of the building, everyone was standing around, shouting ‘Welcome back!’, but it quieted down once she made a sharp left and disappeared behind the door to the elevators. Bailey came rushing in after her, but skid to a stop when she saw everyone standing around without Amunet’s presence. The click of Craig’s shoes brought everyone’s eyes to him, and he paused, “What! What the fuck is everyone looking at? Get back to work.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and cut to the right to disappear behind the double oak doors to his office. Once Amunet reached her own office, the grand doors slid open after verifying her fingerprint. The electronic voice of a woman welcomed her home before closing the doors behind her. She dropped down into her brown leather chair beside the fire place, a fire
The Egyptian: just made. She rested her eyes upon the dancing flames for a moment whipping her head around as someone knocked on her door, “It’s Bailey. Open up. I have your luggage.” For a minute, she considered ignoring her request before standing to her feet, kicking off her shoes and smoothing the crumpling in her long sundress. She twisted the knob and pulled the heavy door open, hand outstretched, head lowered, “Hey. Hey. The hell is going on?” Bailey whispered, “Nothing. Just give me my luggage so that I can get to work. Apparently it’s piled up since I’ve been away.” Bailey was used to the blonde’s emotional detachment, so the fact that Amunet’s voice was a little less inviting, made no difference to her. “Alright. You know where to find me, if you need to talk.” Bailey turned on her heels and left the room. Too bad she couldn’t tell Amunet the real reason why Craig was so stressed out. Amunet sank back against the door when she closed it, and shrugged off the earlier events as if
The Egyptian: they hadn’t ever really happened. She had been angrier than anything else, mainly out of shock that Craig would have even raised his voice, ever. She slid over to her desk and dropped into her chair with a sigh, ripping the files from her luggage and opening each one across the smooth cherry oak finish, silver paperweight resting upon the upper right hand corner, pen holder on the left. She had a lot to read. {end}
‘Cliché…”You’re coming with me.” Next thing I’ll say is “I’ll be back.” Pfft. I pull the man with me leaving the 8 useless and bleeding body guards where I found them. The boss was dumb founded shocked that someone would bypass security by surgically placing swords within their arms…Yeah, I have a hard on for pain…No…I’m Addicted to it. Crave it. The sensation of the body’s reaction to being cut, how the instinct is to cower, contract, tense up, while cycling through every drug it can produce in order to suppress your civilized behavior and unleash the primal animal underneath. I wonder if Fabio here is gonna resist me or just ride along. I calculate it, and then figure that he’s pretty much my lap dog. Once a warrior risen through the ranks now revealed to be some sucker who’s willing to bend over and give me his asshole. He reaches my car…well…his car and I make sure to carry my point across.’ <c>
-The German walked towards the backseats of the car and smashed the man’s face into the framework of the car causing a loud thump before Kyle pulled him back and shoved him into the car.- ‘That’s right, cover like the bottom feeder you really are. ‘ –The German tapped on the glass.- “Stay here…” –His blades folded vertically with his arms as their mounted points were soldered to his bones.- ‘The pain of this things is like setting a cracked rib. Metal periodically tapping at your bone…Did you know that your body creates bone through three different types of nerves and membranes so that you can feel when something is damaged? This procedure was special and not permanent; thank Satan, the constant tapping against my muscles and bone hurts like hell even if I feel like I can blow loads on this sensation. After looking for the gasoline they kept around the joint, I set that place on fire, nothing too fancy…I merely made the place seem like another gang had done it.<c>
My guys on the inside will take care of the rest. As I return to my lap dog I find that he’s been executed. Lovely. That means my benefactors aren’t going to be pleased. Before I make my next move this guy tries hitting me…’ –A fist from a white shirt, business suited gentlemen, Blonde hair, blue eyes. I see him shocked as my hand instinctively grabs his knuckles and stops him. He brings his knife; I cut off his hand. He drops to the ground and knee him in the face, but I don’t let him go. I listen to his nose crack and blood pouring from his face. I look him over as he’s now dizzy and anticipating suicide or letting me talk to myself.’ “Who are you working for?” ‘He goes into shock while shivering…Unfortunately I don’t have time for amateur James Bond types…’ –The German placed his blade along the man’s cheek and gently began peeling the skin off from his jaw up towards his cheekbone, smearing blood along the man’s face causing him to scream in pain.- <c>
“This new look isn’t too bad. How about a hair cut say….half of a 1/4th deep into your scalp?” –I place my blade at the top of his head, but he then confesses.- “The-…The Entourage.” ‘I take a moment to process…Ah; I remember something about them working this part of the coast...’ “I hope you’re not their best…” “You have no idea what-…” ‘He lectures me, as if I’m the villain. Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m just selfish. I didn’t have this surgery to have this guy ruin my bounty.’ “What I’m doing? You seem to be lacking in the department of brain. I think we need to operate…immediately.” ‘I then perform something that even I don’t want to do. Something that is stomach churning…I taint my blade with the blood of a dim-wit. As I pull the blade from the top of his nose ridge I wipe the blade on his shoulder and release his knuckle and offer a small prayer hoping that he’ll spend the rest of his existence being stung by hornets.’
The Egyptian: Fast forward, four nights later; Amunet’s right hand at her side, dripping blood , Katana in her left hand. One of her assignments was to take down a major Japanese Treasure who called himself Hanzo. His crimes were much too numerous to name and as he leaned against his desk, clutching at a gaping wound upon his side, he was breathless; “It’s not every day that I meet little girls like you. And here, I thought that I was going to enjoy such a delicate flower. Turns out that you’re more golden than I had intended upon.” He smirked. Amunet’s grip upon the Katana tightened. Hanzo thought that the sheer white robe did her curves justice, and he couldn’t help but stare at the way her stray strands of curls caressed her neck. Though her stance seemed strong, she was fairly weak due to the loss of blood, but Hanzo never saw. There was a smirk that crossed her lips, the false dragon tattoo curling just atop her cheekbone beneath the left eye rose as a smirk played upon devilishly sweet lips.
The Egyptian: Amunet offered nothing but a shrug towards the male who stood straight and raised his Katana despite sharp pains swelling within him. He advanced and she moved back upon her left heel, shift her weight to turn away from his advance, sending him into the wall directly behind her. He grunted and turned immediately towards her. Her bloody right hand, joined the grip with her left as she raised the weapon to her face before pointing it at him. She only had four minutes to get out of that building, or she’d be going down with it. Her warning was the building that had exploded just up the street, Bailey taking care of the second target, a two for one special. Hanzo again, advanced, and this time, she had to try less... formal tactics to knock him back down onto his ass. He moved, bending down to head butt her abdomen, successfully knocking her into the bookshelf upon the other side of the room. The Katana was knocked form her hand, and for the first time, this was a good thing. The nerves
The Egyptian: in her right hand were much too weak to clench her fist, and so with her left, she crossed his cheek thrice with powerful punches, knocking a tooth from his mouth. He grunted and doubled over as she tumbled towards her weapon, “Ta ta, for now.” And with a head start, Amunet bounded across the room, tucking her head down as she burst through a window and went flying down towards a lower roof. No sooner than she had landed, scuffing her knees in the process, the building exploded, the force of the blast hurtling her further, nearly sending her off the other side of the roof. She rolled onto her back to see the thick plumes of smoke rise from the building with a satisfied smile upon her lips, “Welcome back, Amunet.” She whispered to herself before standing to her feet and exiting the building via the fire escape. The sound of burning rubber could be heard screeching down the block as a black unmarked vehicle spun into a parking space upon the curb in front of the building with the door
The Egyptian: open. Bailey sat inside, sunglasses covering her eyes as she locked visual with Amunet’s slightly dirty, yet eternally graceful form. Once Amunet hopped inside, both girls donned similar smirks, “Was he good-looking?” Bailey asked and Amunet couldn’t help but to let a small bout of laughter escaped from her, “He was young, Japanese.” Bailey nodded, “Good-looking.” She turned the corner, the sound of sirens not too far off in the distance forcing her to press the gas pedal a little harder, “You still smell of perfume. How do you even do it?” Amunet perked a brow towards Bailey with a shrug, “A secret.” They hit a rather rough bump before spilling onto a highway, Bailey weaving in and out of traffic while Amunet fiddled with a First aid kit, cleaning and stitching herself up to prevent more blood loss. From there, the two disappeared into the night without a trace. Upon arriving back into HQ, Craig had been awaiting them both just in the main foyer, arms crossed, hair unkempt. There was
The Egyptian: a Cuban cigar dangling from his lips, thick digits removing it before her spoke, “Everything done?” They both nodded before he continued, “Bailey. Mentor Anise. She had a mental breakdown on a fabricated mission. Amunet, come with me.” Bailey ducked out and behind the double doors to another room while Amunet followed him to the conference room where the projection screen was on a frozen frame of a surveillance tape, “There’s a threat that slipped our radar. I had Sean blow up the images and search the database for him. His name is Kyle Bruder. A real fuck job in my opinion.” Amunet’s brows furrowed. Craig wasn’t ever the type to use profanity around her, which was mainly the reason why she never voiced it aloud, either. “They call him The German. And he just busted the asses of eight men, including one of our… lesser operatives.” She folded arms across her chest, leaning against one of the many chairs that lined a thick wooden banquet table, “Your point?” She finally spoke, and Craig
The Egyptian: admitted to himself, that her icy tone broke his heart. She was still angry or rather disappointed in him and it showed, “Find him. Take him down.” She finally whipped around to face him, “Have you gone mad?” He glared at her, ashing his cigar, “He is a threat, Egyptian. Take. Him. Down.” She was fed up with his sudden attitude and turned on her heels without so much as a word towards him yet again. Her primary focus was to begin packing. {end}
“Of course I am, darling…The trick about lying is, you never tell the same lie, twice.” –The hot tub full of seven women forced all of them into chuckling, bubbles clouded the water as Kyle leaned back with his arms surrounding the women.- ‘If this was heaven…I would burn it after raping a quarter of its wealth. These lovely…middle aged women are sex-crazed wives eager for a young man ready to service their every need…Evelyn on the end is my contact. And probably the best sex I’ve ever had. She could write enough books to kill all of the abstinence advocates in the world by forcing them to commit suicide.’-A Chinese woman pressed her bare chest against his, her purple mascara fluttering at him to lure his attention.- “So, what is your most recent lie? Perhaps you’re going to tell us how…a big…bad…cougar cut open these sexy arms of yours…” <c>
-The German grinned leaning closer to her lips.- “Actually…It’s surgery scars. You see I had metal swords…long…metal swords, attached to my bone…and…well it’s not my first time sticking something hard and solid into another man…” –The German winked at a woman across from him. The woman suckled onto his earlobe before growling.- “When you say things like that I just want to-…” –The German then grabbed her by the chin and growled.- “Shut up and kiss me…” ‘It was a good night…The bait was set and I was just living life. Downstairs the bait sat patiently…’ –Downstairs violins and classical music rose throughout the room as men and women dressed informal attire danced to classical music. It would be a mere 10 minutes later that he was alone with Evelyn grinding against her covered in blankets and sheets that probably cost a fortune, it was the drug lords personal bed chamber, he would leave it empty for some time, and perhaps he would return with the delight of seeing Evelyn undressed and “ready” for him.- <C>
‘She reminds me of Paris…no. She reminds me of that time in Venice…or was it Hawaii? Her and I have sort of made this a tradition, silent, and informal. The air was stale like Cairo during that nasty forest fire that decimated houses. The darkness surrounding us was like Hong Kong, we did some pretty disgusting things there…Turns out you can hide a body inside a fish barrel for a whole 2 weeks before anyone finds out. You can also fillet an ear…Chinese security is very particular about ears, if you didn’t know. A security guard padded me down claiming my ear didn’t match…honestly I think he had a thing for men in dark clothing…I now find myself getting dressed in a tuxedo, I watch Evelyn sleeping peacefully underneath the blankets, she’s enjoying herself…every minute of it. Unlike her I have a job to do and while running away with her may be something that I desire…My…benefactors won’t stop until I’m dead or my usefulness is diminished. <c>
I try to think of my benefactors are husbands of social clubs like this…Fucking the bosses wife doesn’t sound so bad…especially if she’s grabbing and tugging on things she shouldn’t be as a faithful wife and respectable woman of society…okay, so I’m gifted…no reason I can’t be even a little modest...I’m a man and I like sex. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last…As I was saying, I feel there is some sweet irony in fucking the woman whose husbands are metaphorically fucking over my life…It’s bitter and tasty.’
The Egyptian: She escaped back to her office and slid through the second set of doors within to her bedroom. Craig was good at buying out mansions to disguise them as such. Sitting upon a piece of land that was more than a few acres, they had plenty of privacy in which he had built other tiny ‘homes’ that hosted private facilities he needed to train his operatives. She stood on her balcony for at least twenty minutes before the intercom beeped. She pressed the button, resting her forehead to the wall, “What.” She barked, “It’s me, Sean. I have information you should be reading.” She moved back into the office, shutting the doors to her room before opening the heavy oak doors. She snatched the folder from Sean’s hands, locking their gazes for a moment until Sean looked away, intimidated, “I dug as deep as I could. There’s not much on this guy. There are some speculations that he is… augmented. Kind of reminds me of The Russian.” Her brows creased, “Any confirmations on this?” He shook his head,
The Egyptian: “No.” She clicked her tongue. “He said that playing the part should be easy for you. A wealthy woman in San Diego, just moved into town.” She shook her head, “California is too obvious. He isn’t stupid.” Sean grimaced, “But Craig want—…” She glared, “I am honestly at the point where I don’t really give a flying fuck what Craig wants. If he wants me to bring him in, we do it my way. Or he can carry the bodies of all the lesser operatives into that graveyard out back. Understand?” Amunet felt a little fire swell from deep within her, lit by anger, “Tell that asshole to put me on unfamiliar territory. Brazil. I’ll be packed in fifteen minutes.” She slammed the door in his face and tossed The German’s file on her desk. Slipping from the slightly dirty robe, leaving her in nothing but the delicate red lace lingerie, she kicked her heels from her feet and unhooked her bra, leaving a trail of garments leading to her shower. She emerged more than an hour later, satisfied for the most part and
The Egyptian: stepped to her closet. There was a small prompt upon her Bedroom TV, a description of the role she was to take on. The part of the wealthy woman was to remain, an estate worth over three and a half billion dollars, dirty money. A refugee on the run the one place she had just vacationed from; Spain. If this didn’t serve to piss her off any further… She was to request The German’s services, a ridiculous plan. Amunet somehow doubted that The German would do bodyguard work. Then again, for a good price and a beautiful woman, anything was possible. Her name was to be Veronica Espinoza, and there was a private credit card with the name etched on it, for her to buy the wardrobe that fit the part. Craig sent off a formal invitation for The German to meet Veronica at her beach home in Rio de Janeiro , Brazil for a second housewarming party. All of the wealthy colleagues and affiliates would be attending. The next several hours involved an uncomfortable flight, the shipping of her clothing with
The Egyptian: rushed delivery, jet lag and finally sleep. Her home was a spacious waterfront home with open, high rise ceilings and windows in a contemporary design. Amunet couldn’t stress enough, her like for clean lines, and it came as no surprise that the ash grey and white theme was displayed in many different ways throughout each bedroom. Her fireplace was decorated in mosaic tiles, and the balcony from her bedroom contained huge bamboo shutters that could be slid back to view the setting sun overlooking the green tile pool in her backyard. She left behind Amunet and picked up the seductive arrogance of a wealthy Veronica Espinoza who needed a little more help in the guarding department. She was prepared for the challenge.
The rubber peeled off his skin, moist, damp, and sweaty from use and extensive heat releasing from his body. A bubbly squash as the round shape of his digits slipped through the sockets of the hand piece worn tight to his shape and form. Tossing the glove into the fire place, he planted the evidence inside the wife and immediately went to fleeing. His cell phone would suddenly vibrate as he walked out of the scene he read a text message.- “Male. File attached.” –He opened the phone deactivating the self-destruction sequence on it before reviewing the top secret documents on it where he reviewed the invitation lettering, the woman who sent it, and the location. He reviewed his instructions.- “Kill the Egyptian.” –He instinctively switched to reading the layout of the building, his fingers tapping key locations that would offer options of explosives, sniper shots, ballistic reports,<c>
top notch technology that would put the Military, CIA, and FBI to shame. He examined the information and ran the mathematical equations through his head. He then flipped to analyze his target, Amunet in New York, Miami, Japan, and then Spain. Her last photo had him pause and take in.- ‘She was beautiful…Young. Naïve. I could tell in that moment there was something special about her. I felt like I was looking at a female version of myself…her origin Is unknown but her call sign “The Egyptian” even had a sexy ring to it. Something told me that wild sex was out of this bargaining deal. It would be a were moments later that I was finding myself walking up the stairs to her trap, like a wolverine the wolf would know they were in for a fight…’ –The German approached the door and knocked, outfitted with a typical black and white business suit with an additional piece of clothing, a black hat with a white strap around it. He knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response.- <c>
‘I analyze my datapad, the satellite imagery gave me feed of heat sources within the area. It was almost useless seeing as it’s almost 95 degrees outside. A sniper or something of that nature would definitely stand out unless he was in an icebox. I wait for her to respond, I calculate my approach over and over in my head. I’m unarmed save the two arm blades, the flash powder in my belt and the poison in my jacket. My brown hair is groomed, slicked casually back and tucked underneath my hat. My pants hang down to my hips to appear like a typical American of this decade. I make sure to wear protection…Her victims seem to suffer from bruising in the genitals, but they are typically taller, stronger, and uglier men. She might have a different opinion of my sex appeal. Especially after she hears my proposition…My intell knows more about her…someone from the inside, but they’re only feeding me information on a “need to know” basis…I think I’m going to like this woman.’
The Egyptian: A wealthy woman never answered her own door. He would be greeted by a tanned, male with an athletic build that was just too ‘beefy’ beneath a suit of white. Clean cut, hair slicked down upon his head, carrying a silver tray with Champagne filled glasses. The ‘party’ was boisterous, filled with men and women of prestigious order and wealth. Despite the unforgivingly humid weather, most men and women were dressed in smothering formal attire, bunched in clusters of three or four to a group, chatting, drinking and snacking on petite appetizers. It was easy to see, however, that the main attraction was crowded by numerous couples, all lingering on her every word. They hadn’t a clue as to who she was, but the thing about the circle of wealth was that a business connection that would look good on any resume, was good enough for them to flock around and kiss her feet. There she stood, when everyone else was dressed in black, Amunet, now Veronica, stood tall in a Peacock scheme number. The
The Egyptian: number was long sleeved, but that left nothing to be desired as the neck line plunged, stopping just below her navel. Her skin was golden, acquiring a slight tan after only being in town for a week. The flowing train of the dress was nothing compared to the matching dip, curving to stop just above the not so subtle bump of her backside, a dress that was a tease. Gold strapped heels rest upon her feet, gold bangles upon her wrist, and her golden blonde hair swimming in soft waves, spilling over her shoulders. She lifted thick lashes as one of the males whispered into her ear about her new arrival, and instantly, she knew exactly who it was. Green-grey hues locked upon the suited male with the charming little hat, and the left corner of her full lips turned up in a small smirk. She waved the clerk away, and the group surrounding her had parted to allow him into the tight circle. Just behind her, was a wall of windows overlooking the rippling water, people still frolicking out on speed
The Egyptian: boats and yachts. Apparently the photos did him no justice, as the figure before her was much more attractive than she remembered, however, that wasn’t the objective. She was to destroy him. The crowd dispersed to mingle outside close to the pool, others on the terrace upon the waterfront display. She too, was unarmed, save for one Sai dagger upon her inner thigh, hooked to a strap that she was sure he could see just beneath the not so innocent split crawling up her dress. “Glad to see that you could make it.” A thick accent, even if false. “Welcome to Brazil.” She didn’t extend her hand just yet. After all, what arrogant woman would?
‘The atmosphere was fake…These ‘rich people’ don’t know anything about life. Their laughter, their smiles, their ogling eyes over the most overly priced piece of toilet paper, craving it only because it’s expensive. Their ‘1st class citizenship excludes them from buying 2nd class items that were 50 to 75% cheaper and more efficient. God how these people piss me off. I then lay eyes on her, a goddess in the flesh. I try what I can to keep my pants from revealing the natural reaction I get from her. Her outfit doesn’t permit much…her attire is not her style, she prefers something more conservative. She has some dignity, but knows she’s incredibly attractive. She uses it as a distraction; she’s as much of a peacock as her outfit is. Now, we’re talking. I stand casual, allowing my posture to provide confidence and ignorance. My shoulders are relaxed, not stiff. My hands are in my pockets while my arms lazily hang from them using my hands to brace them up. <c>
Her tan wasn’t natural, but her breasts were. I take the opportunity to let her know *exactly* what I’m interested in. My blue eyes drop down to that dip just below her naval and between her hips, before eyeing over that circular birth mark etched into her taunt abs that were flat and probably the most flexible thing in the room. She knows that I’m having sex with her; in here…It’s the part of me I give her. Letting her see an aspect of truth, a genuine attraction to her body, it may throw her for a curve ball, believing me to be some kind of uptight, sex depraved, lonely man who kills to let out his frustration. No, Egyptian, I’m not that man. We know we’re smarter than that. You can read my eyes that I know why you’re here and why I’m here. I smile as these blue eyes look into her mint chocolate chip colored eyes blended with a faded layer of blue fading the colors into a gray like tone.’ <c>
“Ms. Veronica Espinoza…{How}[are]<you>?” ‘German, Russian, Japanese…I smile at her and then speak Middle Eastern-…’ “^I’ve come to share with you a proposition that you won’t want to refuse…Do you have a bedroom we can go to?^” ‘…-Egyptian. My head strong nature is probably tipping her off, she’s going to adjust and calculate me, and she knows I have control of the situation, but she’s wondering how much. How much of her operation is compromised, who gave up her operation, is it an inside job? Did she show weakness? Did she pick the wrong words? Or my favorite, do I sleep with him and kill him in the morning?’
The Egyptian: He spoke, and she was neither surprised, nor impressed. But his words didn’t mean much. The look in his eyes said more than enough. He had figured her out before she could ever really slip him her form of poison. Was she afraid? Hardly. He was appraising her form, even if she hadn’t been picking that fact out in a more direct manner. Her expression left nothing to be revealed, but she rewarded his traveling hues by turning her back to him. ‘Never turn your back to a threat. But something tells me that he’s not going to bite me too hard.’ They were the only two left standing in the entertainment room, chatting about nothing. She reached behind her to overlap her arms, palms cupping her elbows as she stepped passed him. Her fragrance lingered within the air around them, something sweet, roses, but not too strong. There was a bounce in her step, contrary to the stiffer and professionally curved switch she had otherwise. He asked for a place to speak with her, and here, she had two
The Egyptian: choices. She could break character and take him somewhere that was playing it safe for Amunet, but even here, her cover was already blown. Who would care where she took this man? According to the people who surrounded her, she was rich, and it was normal for her to take a suitor to someplace a little more private to talk. She scribbled over the lines of her script in her head and played things her way. Brushing past him she purposefully bumped his shoulder and turned to look over her own, “Follow me…” She’d take her time walking past the patio window, people a little less formal now, with more alcohol within their systems, some even jumping into her pool. There was a wooden staircase that wound around clean white walls, leading to a second floor with seven doors. The last of which were a pair of double doors leading to the Master Suite. Again, taking her time was her best bet in this, or maybe part of her wanted him to see her from behind. The sex appeal shouldn’t have mattered, but
The Egyptian: Amunet was no Immortal. The job. The goddamn job comes first. ‘Was he good-looking?’ She remembered Bailey’s voice, and mentally replied, ‘This one is, Bailey. I feel like I’m in Dangerous Liaisons.’ She reached for the knob and turned, leading him into a room that was dark until her left hand shot towards the light switch, flicking it on. “Have a seat.” She managed as she stepped towards the balcony to close the bamboo shutters, locking out the outside world, but not the humid breeze of Beautiful Brazil. The screams of women and chanting of men below were deafened just slightly as she closed the last shutter and turned to him. Slender digits ran through those golden waves before placing that same hand upon the swell of her hip. Craig sent her out onto a Suicide Mission, but those were the ones that excited her the most…
‘Every breath she took, I was intrigued. Fascinating how she was cool and relaxed. She wasn’t a typical agent externally or internally. Not the shell of a woman having a husband or family to worry about. I would make a personal note to find out more about this mysterious vixen. I follow her as she walks slowly, the strip tease of the century before me, I let that moment prove that I am the strongest man she has ever met…And I keep my hands off allowing her shoulder to brush against me and let her backside taunt. The house was expensive, as were the guests and the staff. Where would she lead me? To our final confrontation? To another battleground for us to properly exchange greetings and steel? I would have fun with this one, she was a jewel, a diamond, and if not properly etched she could shatter and forever be lost to my dreams. Admittedly a piece of me would die if I don’t provide her with due respect and grace.’ <c>
-The stairs takes an eternity with a reward of seeing her tight legs and smooth skin. Her dress riding up-…is she wearing underwear? …I don’t think she is. We arrive at the dusk of a room only for an immediate dawn to occur, she offers me a seat but I don’t take it, not without incentive or reward. I sat next to the chair, positioning my legs with distance between them. My eyes tracing her spine, ribcage, and shoulder blades.- “I am the German…A pleasure to finally meet the acquaintance of someone with such a reputation in our line of work…You’ve gone through quite a bit of trouble to get my attention. Now you have me in your web. So what does she do with her prize?” –His tone was confident, reminding her of her task at hand, while also implying he too had a job and superiors that he must obey.-
The Egyptian: Choices; She was always reminded that she had more than one decision to make, a route to choose. He was there, within her clutches. She could attempt to subdue him, and have a few of those fake waiters come and help her lift the body into a Town car and escort his ass back to the U.S. and into the temporary and no doubt, illegal custody of Craig, who would no doubt rough him up something fierce, if not kill him. She dropped her arms as her side before her left hand slid between her legs to grip the hilt of her dagger and slide it from its temporary holster. She was aimlessly twirling it between her fingers, her eyes rest upon him as he formally introduced himself, prompting her to drop her accent and her act, “The Egyptian. But, you already knew that.” His question brought the blade to an abrupt stop, resting it against her collar bone. She’d have to answer this carefully, “There’s no easy way around this. So, if you’re going to put up a fight, it’d better be a good one.” Apparently,
The Egyptian: she was going to go against him anyway, despite the hint that someone had blown her cover. On second thought… she lowered the blade, “I’m only going to ask you once. You knew about me before you even stepped foot through that door. Tell me what you know.” She said ask, but in order to set the tone of just how serious she was, she was going to have to demand, rather than use the charms she knew she had, in order to convince him to tell her what it was he knew about her. Half of Amunet’s mind played the thought within her mind that he was probably the kind to take a bride of the more… physical kind. If she had to play that part, she’d play it to the end. However, there was another half that believed that he wouldn’t even require such from her. Perhaps that little proposition of his would come to light. All she had to do was wait a little, loosen him up.
-His eyebrow raised in intrigue watching her arm herself and then fiddle with it as if it were a toy.- ‘Her hand could pitch that towards me at 60 miles per hour without breaking a sweat, with training and strength, probably another 10 or 20 miles on that throw. I listen to her speak and I nod, I don’t break character as I walk towards her, closing distance, cutting down that speed she has on her throw while offering her an opportunity of lethal strikes at close range. Her introduction offers me an opportunity to explain.’ “You knew that I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for this entrapment and yet here I am, unarmored and at your mercy. Furthermore, you know who I am and that I’m not someone to be played as a fool. And make no mistake, whatever you may have heard about me…I take this job very seriously. What tipped me off was mail being delivered to me. I never get mail but, my benefactors’ leave it open to find out who is after me and my constituents.” <c>
‘I read what she does, how does she react before continuing.- “My question is, why did you want me here? Not one for hanging on the arm of a billionaire drug lord, learning his every secret?” ‘My blue eyes study her once more, my eyes scanning her body, her shoulders, arms, hands, wrist, and her torso. My blades are ready for her to try and off me…As it stands, I find the idea exhilarating. Death by a vixen worthy of staining my blade with her blood. I imagine sex with her some what the same; moving within her depth as my blade sinking into that soft skin of her shoulder while the pain of teeth ripping my flesh as her dagger punctures between my right ribcage from behind me…The thought makes me warm.-
The Egyptian: His comment brought a small smile to her face. Amusing, just slightly, “I never stick around long enough to learn something that doesn’t benefit me.” He stepped forward, she stepped back. One thing she would always take into consideration was the distance between herself and her opponent. Close range was too close. She pivoted just slightly upon her heels to keep herself from back into a wall, moving closer towards the door. In case he charged at her, she’d be able to step aside and allow him and the staircase to become better acquainted with one another. Personal space; It was what kept that comfortable distance from someone else, both physically and emotionally. Since she didn’t have to play the part of the seductive, arrogant heiress, there wasn’t much need for flirting with him using her body language anymore. “I lured you here, out from under the noses of my Boss.” Away from his protective, watchful eye, but she kept that part out of the conversation. “I was sure that you’d be
The Egyptian: more likely to show up somewhere in which the lines on being captured were… much more loose than they are back in America.” Also, it was the thrill of the challenge, taking him on. One on one without Craig yelling at her in worry, or sending in back up like Bailey who wasn’t even qualified to work on the same level as Amunet, in all honesty. Her eyes traveled his visage again, just taking in a few extra details in case she needed them in the long run. “I just saved your ass a lot of heat.” She crossed arms over her chest, dagger still in hand. “What still remains, if the fact that you didn’t exactly answer my question.” She quirked a brow in his direction, lips slightly pursed. She shifted her weight to her right leg, her hip sticking just slightly, outlining her curves just a little more in that dress as the split feathered open just a little more. She wondered how long they’d play twenty one questions before she actually got any useful information out of him.
The Egyptian: backing*
The Egyptian: of burden. The weather was mild, and warm with a kiss of humidity that made her skin shine. She felt at ease, though never at peace and had been thankful that for the time being, Craig actually left her alone for the duration of her trip. However, as soon as her jet touched down in Los Angeles, she was greeted by a faint smile from Craig and at least three files of potential threats and targets. She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, slipping them from his hands and walking past him. Craig frowned and walked after her, grabbing her luggage from claims and nearly running to catch up with her. His car was outside the terminal, illegally parked, but a cop was standing nearby, watching it for him. Amunet glared, “Really? You paid the cop not to give you a ticket for parking illegally?” Craig smirked, “Well, why not? I had the money, and figured that you wouldn’t want to walk in those high whatever you women call them.” He opened the door for her as she slid inside. Placing
The Egyptian: her bags into the trunk, he took a moment to sigh and bend down to rest his head upon the trunk of the car. How the hell was he going to tell her that he had Cancer? He shook the thought from his head. Amunet had enough tragedies in her life, and she didn’t need the burden of never really knowing if he would survive or not. He thanked the Traffic policeman and slid into the Driver’s seat, closing the door and turning on the car before speaking, “How was your trip?” He turned to look at her, but never made eye contact. Amunet pulled out her phone and turned it on before replying, “Warm. Spicy.” She sighed. If she couldn’t fall in love with anything or anyone else, she made and exception for Spain. “Spicy? That’s sudden. Do anything that I wouldn’t do?” He cracked a weak smile as he turned the winding road onto the 405 North, heading towards Sacramento. “Traveled the expanse of Spain, nearly? Yes. That.” She shook her head with a small laugh. The rest of the ride was silent, save for a
The Egyptian: save for a few words here and there. To her, he looked so tired. Something wasn’t right… The idea of pressing the issue made her a little hesitant. She wasn’t exactly sure if getting into an uncomfortable conversation on such a long ride was a good way to start off back from a hiatus. Though, she knew Craig well enough to see that something was bothering him. She had to veer the mood into something different, “Make any progress on the Amanti case?” She asked. Of course, business was the safest route, because for some reason, she found it highly frustrating that she just couldn’t connect with him on an emotional level. She mentally face palmed and awaited his answer. “No. And we nearly lost Derek because of his poor judgment. But, I can’t send you on every mission. Th—“ She interrupted him, “We aren’t perfect. There are going to be mistakes.” He shook his head, “He had a choice. It was easy, and he went another route.” She leaned back against the passenger door to look at him, “Would
The Egyptian: you talk about me the same to someone else, had I done what he did?” His hands tightened on the wheel, “You wouldn’t have. I know you.” She hissed, “How do you even know what situation he was in, for you to deem his decision—“ The next thing he did, shocked her, “WILL YOU STOP BEING A FUCKING MARTYR FOR EVERYONE?!? GODDAMNIT!” Amunet’s fist clenched, ready to defend herself in case he did the unthinkable. Craig looked down to see her fists clenched and immediately apologized several times, “I—I’m sorry, Ams.. I just… I’m sorry.” She turned her head away from him, pressing her forehead to the cold glass and said nothing more towards him for the remainder of the trip. {end.}
‘Mmm…L.A…The trip left me feeling energized from the sleep I caught up on. The heat contained within the city could rival that of Dallas. Beats the cold weather of Philadelphia or Chicago…The order sent me here for some undercover work…Searching for a man who knows the inside of South American drug cartel hooked up with their douchebag of a dictator. I guess if you’re power is absolute, why not be a dickhead to the mass? I know I would.’ –His filed nails perfectly treated, his fingers groomed despite calluses from bruises and damage dealt to them. Blood trickling down his wrist and into his handcuffed palm as a bearded man stood before him.- ‘He’s speaking a language I’m familiar with…I play dumb just to get a reaction. It’s the only entertainment I can get out of this job. Beats listening to Lady Gaga at the music awards.’ –A board made of two inch thick wood slapped across his face causing his face to flush red, but no blood.- <c>
“You stupid twit. I don’t understand you. How stupid must you be to not realize that I. Don’t. Speak. Spanish.” –His blue eyes lifted lazily towards the light as it flashed across his eyes and suddenly his hands were tracing along the skin of a woman’s backside. Lying next to her as she wore back lingerie she smiled at him before pressing her lips to his.- ‘Ohh, Agent Stryker…A spy’s dream. A sexy vixen acting as a Russian working for the Chinese, employed by the United States CIA…Lord, it was just what the doctor ordered. I will admit…I took my time with this assignment. Her real name was Lisa; she has 3 children and a husband who was clueless as to what her job really was about. She was a part of a covert mission during the early 2000’s. She hasn’t been at this job for as long as I have. <c>
I find bliss within her lips, the same sensation of entrapment that I have. I hear her words calling out and reminding me of my job. “Let’s run away together, far away.” Oh, if only you knew who I worked for…I can tell it’s eating her up inside, she wants me to give in. She knows and understands my pain, but she still knows I’m hiding the real me. For this personality; Daniel Woodland, I put elements of my personality into it…but he is not me. Daniel Woodland has my pain that she is eager to heal. She wants me to take off this mask, end this game of Cat and Mouse…I give in…I slide on top of her, my front locks to her hind quarters, the precious cheeks exposed and smooth. I slip my lips to her ear while my hands slip to her shoulders…I must not arouse suspicion. “Kyle-…” is all I say before I make another man live with depression… She was walking down a concrete stairs and broke her neck…I will forever remember the pain I receive from that day.<c>
From that moment forward all of the suffering I receive is retribution as I denied a demon her chance for salvation. I grow tired of this 300 pound gorilla beating me with his toy. I feel the spikes ripping my skin; it’ll hurt only for a second, so at least that’s what I tell myself. By the time I’m done, there won’t be evidence. Five men quickly become eight as more arrive, just in time. The cuffs break as my twelve inch blades rip through my skin and slash into the chains ripping them a part. With the swing of my right arm I stab the first man in the heart. 300 pound gorilla dies without a second of pain...less than what he deserved. My left arm stabs the foot of the man behind me forcing his gun to hit the floor. I dive to the floor and rip off his foot before bringing my blade back to my side. I watch him collapse as his ankle is no longer attached to his $500 brown slip-in shoe. <c>
Their guns aren’t yet drawn as I grab the gun landed on the floor I cap off two shots dropping two more before cocking the gun and ejecting a 3rd bullet. I hurl the gun at one pawn, he catches it; I grin while tumbling into a stand. The sound of a gun exploding and three men dropping to the floor; two dead, one scared shitless. Did I mention my tumbling stabbed the second guy? No? Oh. Forgot to mention that part...must’ve been through all of the excitement. I leap towards the next two who finally have their guns drawn, but they’re surprised by the sharpness of my blades cutting through their arms that both of them lose 10 lbs off one arm…This still doesn’t solve my problem that both are right handed. One right arm hits the floor bleeding and missing the attached bicep, another left arm in the same situation. <c>
A quick slash forces the remaining armed goon to bleed through his throat while acrobatic jumping over to my next victim, kicking both across the face dropping them to the ground. I spin and stand before the scared shitless man, covered in the blood of my own arms.’ –The German grabbed the man by the throat.- “You’re coming with me.”
The Egyptian: She couldn’t even comprehend what had happened in the car, but all she knew was that as soon as he came to a stop in front of the HQ building in Sacramento, she exited the car immediately. “Amunet, wait.” But there was no waiting for her. Bailey, ‘The Informant’ was standing outside, waiting to greet her with open arms. The brunette missed Amunet and wanted to chit chat with her about the vacation, but the way in which Amunet had been stalking towards her with such a vicious walk, left her with her lips slightly parted. Amunet glanced to Bailey with green-grey hues harboring some serious anger in which the brunette knew to give her some space. “She didn’t even get her bags..” Craig mumbled as he handed them off to Bailey. “Everything alright?” She asked, tugging on her shirt slightly, “I snapped at her Bail. I just… she defended Derek—..” Bailey sighed, “Oh no. You didn’t.” She shook her head and walked away from him. To Bailey, it wasn’t that he had even talked about Derek, it was
The Egyptian: it was the fact that Bailey knew about Craig’s illness. She knew that he was stressed out, and everyone in The Entourage knew about Craig’s illness, save Amunet. When Amunet walked into the main foyer of the building, everyone was standing around, shouting ‘Welcome back!’, but it quieted down once she made a sharp left and disappeared behind the door to the elevators. Bailey came rushing in after her, but skid to a stop when she saw everyone standing around without Amunet’s presence. The click of Craig’s shoes brought everyone’s eyes to him, and he paused, “What! What the fuck is everyone looking at? Get back to work.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and cut to the right to disappear behind the double oak doors to his office. Once Amunet reached her own office, the grand doors slid open after verifying her fingerprint. The electronic voice of a woman welcomed her home before closing the doors behind her. She dropped down into her brown leather chair beside the fire place, a fire
The Egyptian: just made. She rested her eyes upon the dancing flames for a moment whipping her head around as someone knocked on her door, “It’s Bailey. Open up. I have your luggage.” For a minute, she considered ignoring her request before standing to her feet, kicking off her shoes and smoothing the crumpling in her long sundress. She twisted the knob and pulled the heavy door open, hand outstretched, head lowered, “Hey. Hey. The hell is going on?” Bailey whispered, “Nothing. Just give me my luggage so that I can get to work. Apparently it’s piled up since I’ve been away.” Bailey was used to the blonde’s emotional detachment, so the fact that Amunet’s voice was a little less inviting, made no difference to her. “Alright. You know where to find me, if you need to talk.” Bailey turned on her heels and left the room. Too bad she couldn’t tell Amunet the real reason why Craig was so stressed out. Amunet sank back against the door when she closed it, and shrugged off the earlier events as if
The Egyptian: they hadn’t ever really happened. She had been angrier than anything else, mainly out of shock that Craig would have even raised his voice, ever. She slid over to her desk and dropped into her chair with a sigh, ripping the files from her luggage and opening each one across the smooth cherry oak finish, silver paperweight resting upon the upper right hand corner, pen holder on the left. She had a lot to read. {end}
‘Cliché…”You’re coming with me.” Next thing I’ll say is “I’ll be back.” Pfft. I pull the man with me leaving the 8 useless and bleeding body guards where I found them. The boss was dumb founded shocked that someone would bypass security by surgically placing swords within their arms…Yeah, I have a hard on for pain…No…I’m Addicted to it. Crave it. The sensation of the body’s reaction to being cut, how the instinct is to cower, contract, tense up, while cycling through every drug it can produce in order to suppress your civilized behavior and unleash the primal animal underneath. I wonder if Fabio here is gonna resist me or just ride along. I calculate it, and then figure that he’s pretty much my lap dog. Once a warrior risen through the ranks now revealed to be some sucker who’s willing to bend over and give me his asshole. He reaches my car…well…his car and I make sure to carry my point across.’ <c>
-The German walked towards the backseats of the car and smashed the man’s face into the framework of the car causing a loud thump before Kyle pulled him back and shoved him into the car.- ‘That’s right, cover like the bottom feeder you really are. ‘ –The German tapped on the glass.- “Stay here…” –His blades folded vertically with his arms as their mounted points were soldered to his bones.- ‘The pain of this things is like setting a cracked rib. Metal periodically tapping at your bone…Did you know that your body creates bone through three different types of nerves and membranes so that you can feel when something is damaged? This procedure was special and not permanent; thank Satan, the constant tapping against my muscles and bone hurts like hell even if I feel like I can blow loads on this sensation. After looking for the gasoline they kept around the joint, I set that place on fire, nothing too fancy…I merely made the place seem like another gang had done it.<c>
My guys on the inside will take care of the rest. As I return to my lap dog I find that he’s been executed. Lovely. That means my benefactors aren’t going to be pleased. Before I make my next move this guy tries hitting me…’ –A fist from a white shirt, business suited gentlemen, Blonde hair, blue eyes. I see him shocked as my hand instinctively grabs his knuckles and stops him. He brings his knife; I cut off his hand. He drops to the ground and knee him in the face, but I don’t let him go. I listen to his nose crack and blood pouring from his face. I look him over as he’s now dizzy and anticipating suicide or letting me talk to myself.’ “Who are you working for?” ‘He goes into shock while shivering…Unfortunately I don’t have time for amateur James Bond types…’ –The German placed his blade along the man’s cheek and gently began peeling the skin off from his jaw up towards his cheekbone, smearing blood along the man’s face causing him to scream in pain.- <c>
“This new look isn’t too bad. How about a hair cut say….half of a 1/4th deep into your scalp?” –I place my blade at the top of his head, but he then confesses.- “The-…The Entourage.” ‘I take a moment to process…Ah; I remember something about them working this part of the coast...’ “I hope you’re not their best…” “You have no idea what-…” ‘He lectures me, as if I’m the villain. Maybe I am. Or maybe I’m just selfish. I didn’t have this surgery to have this guy ruin my bounty.’ “What I’m doing? You seem to be lacking in the department of brain. I think we need to operate…immediately.” ‘I then perform something that even I don’t want to do. Something that is stomach churning…I taint my blade with the blood of a dim-wit. As I pull the blade from the top of his nose ridge I wipe the blade on his shoulder and release his knuckle and offer a small prayer hoping that he’ll spend the rest of his existence being stung by hornets.’
The Egyptian: Fast forward, four nights later; Amunet’s right hand at her side, dripping blood , Katana in her left hand. One of her assignments was to take down a major Japanese Treasure who called himself Hanzo. His crimes were much too numerous to name and as he leaned against his desk, clutching at a gaping wound upon his side, he was breathless; “It’s not every day that I meet little girls like you. And here, I thought that I was going to enjoy such a delicate flower. Turns out that you’re more golden than I had intended upon.” He smirked. Amunet’s grip upon the Katana tightened. Hanzo thought that the sheer white robe did her curves justice, and he couldn’t help but stare at the way her stray strands of curls caressed her neck. Though her stance seemed strong, she was fairly weak due to the loss of blood, but Hanzo never saw. There was a smirk that crossed her lips, the false dragon tattoo curling just atop her cheekbone beneath the left eye rose as a smirk played upon devilishly sweet lips.
The Egyptian: Amunet offered nothing but a shrug towards the male who stood straight and raised his Katana despite sharp pains swelling within him. He advanced and she moved back upon her left heel, shift her weight to turn away from his advance, sending him into the wall directly behind her. He grunted and turned immediately towards her. Her bloody right hand, joined the grip with her left as she raised the weapon to her face before pointing it at him. She only had four minutes to get out of that building, or she’d be going down with it. Her warning was the building that had exploded just up the street, Bailey taking care of the second target, a two for one special. Hanzo again, advanced, and this time, she had to try less... formal tactics to knock him back down onto his ass. He moved, bending down to head butt her abdomen, successfully knocking her into the bookshelf upon the other side of the room. The Katana was knocked form her hand, and for the first time, this was a good thing. The nerves
The Egyptian: in her right hand were much too weak to clench her fist, and so with her left, she crossed his cheek thrice with powerful punches, knocking a tooth from his mouth. He grunted and doubled over as she tumbled towards her weapon, “Ta ta, for now.” And with a head start, Amunet bounded across the room, tucking her head down as she burst through a window and went flying down towards a lower roof. No sooner than she had landed, scuffing her knees in the process, the building exploded, the force of the blast hurtling her further, nearly sending her off the other side of the roof. She rolled onto her back to see the thick plumes of smoke rise from the building with a satisfied smile upon her lips, “Welcome back, Amunet.” She whispered to herself before standing to her feet and exiting the building via the fire escape. The sound of burning rubber could be heard screeching down the block as a black unmarked vehicle spun into a parking space upon the curb in front of the building with the door
The Egyptian: open. Bailey sat inside, sunglasses covering her eyes as she locked visual with Amunet’s slightly dirty, yet eternally graceful form. Once Amunet hopped inside, both girls donned similar smirks, “Was he good-looking?” Bailey asked and Amunet couldn’t help but to let a small bout of laughter escaped from her, “He was young, Japanese.” Bailey nodded, “Good-looking.” She turned the corner, the sound of sirens not too far off in the distance forcing her to press the gas pedal a little harder, “You still smell of perfume. How do you even do it?” Amunet perked a brow towards Bailey with a shrug, “A secret.” They hit a rather rough bump before spilling onto a highway, Bailey weaving in and out of traffic while Amunet fiddled with a First aid kit, cleaning and stitching herself up to prevent more blood loss. From there, the two disappeared into the night without a trace. Upon arriving back into HQ, Craig had been awaiting them both just in the main foyer, arms crossed, hair unkempt. There was
The Egyptian: a Cuban cigar dangling from his lips, thick digits removing it before her spoke, “Everything done?” They both nodded before he continued, “Bailey. Mentor Anise. She had a mental breakdown on a fabricated mission. Amunet, come with me.” Bailey ducked out and behind the double doors to another room while Amunet followed him to the conference room where the projection screen was on a frozen frame of a surveillance tape, “There’s a threat that slipped our radar. I had Sean blow up the images and search the database for him. His name is Kyle Bruder. A real fuck job in my opinion.” Amunet’s brows furrowed. Craig wasn’t ever the type to use profanity around her, which was mainly the reason why she never voiced it aloud, either. “They call him The German. And he just busted the asses of eight men, including one of our… lesser operatives.” She folded arms across her chest, leaning against one of the many chairs that lined a thick wooden banquet table, “Your point?” She finally spoke, and Craig
The Egyptian: admitted to himself, that her icy tone broke his heart. She was still angry or rather disappointed in him and it showed, “Find him. Take him down.” She finally whipped around to face him, “Have you gone mad?” He glared at her, ashing his cigar, “He is a threat, Egyptian. Take. Him. Down.” She was fed up with his sudden attitude and turned on her heels without so much as a word towards him yet again. Her primary focus was to begin packing. {end}
“Of course I am, darling…The trick about lying is, you never tell the same lie, twice.” –The hot tub full of seven women forced all of them into chuckling, bubbles clouded the water as Kyle leaned back with his arms surrounding the women.- ‘If this was heaven…I would burn it after raping a quarter of its wealth. These lovely…middle aged women are sex-crazed wives eager for a young man ready to service their every need…Evelyn on the end is my contact. And probably the best sex I’ve ever had. She could write enough books to kill all of the abstinence advocates in the world by forcing them to commit suicide.’-A Chinese woman pressed her bare chest against his, her purple mascara fluttering at him to lure his attention.- “So, what is your most recent lie? Perhaps you’re going to tell us how…a big…bad…cougar cut open these sexy arms of yours…” <c>
-The German grinned leaning closer to her lips.- “Actually…It’s surgery scars. You see I had metal swords…long…metal swords, attached to my bone…and…well it’s not my first time sticking something hard and solid into another man…” –The German winked at a woman across from him. The woman suckled onto his earlobe before growling.- “When you say things like that I just want to-…” –The German then grabbed her by the chin and growled.- “Shut up and kiss me…” ‘It was a good night…The bait was set and I was just living life. Downstairs the bait sat patiently…’ –Downstairs violins and classical music rose throughout the room as men and women dressed informal attire danced to classical music. It would be a mere 10 minutes later that he was alone with Evelyn grinding against her covered in blankets and sheets that probably cost a fortune, it was the drug lords personal bed chamber, he would leave it empty for some time, and perhaps he would return with the delight of seeing Evelyn undressed and “ready” for him.- <C>
‘She reminds me of Paris…no. She reminds me of that time in Venice…or was it Hawaii? Her and I have sort of made this a tradition, silent, and informal. The air was stale like Cairo during that nasty forest fire that decimated houses. The darkness surrounding us was like Hong Kong, we did some pretty disgusting things there…Turns out you can hide a body inside a fish barrel for a whole 2 weeks before anyone finds out. You can also fillet an ear…Chinese security is very particular about ears, if you didn’t know. A security guard padded me down claiming my ear didn’t match…honestly I think he had a thing for men in dark clothing…I now find myself getting dressed in a tuxedo, I watch Evelyn sleeping peacefully underneath the blankets, she’s enjoying herself…every minute of it. Unlike her I have a job to do and while running away with her may be something that I desire…My…benefactors won’t stop until I’m dead or my usefulness is diminished. <c>
I try to think of my benefactors are husbands of social clubs like this…Fucking the bosses wife doesn’t sound so bad…especially if she’s grabbing and tugging on things she shouldn’t be as a faithful wife and respectable woman of society…okay, so I’m gifted…no reason I can’t be even a little modest...I’m a man and I like sex. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last…As I was saying, I feel there is some sweet irony in fucking the woman whose husbands are metaphorically fucking over my life…It’s bitter and tasty.’
The Egyptian: She escaped back to her office and slid through the second set of doors within to her bedroom. Craig was good at buying out mansions to disguise them as such. Sitting upon a piece of land that was more than a few acres, they had plenty of privacy in which he had built other tiny ‘homes’ that hosted private facilities he needed to train his operatives. She stood on her balcony for at least twenty minutes before the intercom beeped. She pressed the button, resting her forehead to the wall, “What.” She barked, “It’s me, Sean. I have information you should be reading.” She moved back into the office, shutting the doors to her room before opening the heavy oak doors. She snatched the folder from Sean’s hands, locking their gazes for a moment until Sean looked away, intimidated, “I dug as deep as I could. There’s not much on this guy. There are some speculations that he is… augmented. Kind of reminds me of The Russian.” Her brows creased, “Any confirmations on this?” He shook his head,
The Egyptian: “No.” She clicked her tongue. “He said that playing the part should be easy for you. A wealthy woman in San Diego, just moved into town.” She shook her head, “California is too obvious. He isn’t stupid.” Sean grimaced, “But Craig want—…” She glared, “I am honestly at the point where I don’t really give a flying fuck what Craig wants. If he wants me to bring him in, we do it my way. Or he can carry the bodies of all the lesser operatives into that graveyard out back. Understand?” Amunet felt a little fire swell from deep within her, lit by anger, “Tell that asshole to put me on unfamiliar territory. Brazil. I’ll be packed in fifteen minutes.” She slammed the door in his face and tossed The German’s file on her desk. Slipping from the slightly dirty robe, leaving her in nothing but the delicate red lace lingerie, she kicked her heels from her feet and unhooked her bra, leaving a trail of garments leading to her shower. She emerged more than an hour later, satisfied for the most part and
The Egyptian: stepped to her closet. There was a small prompt upon her Bedroom TV, a description of the role she was to take on. The part of the wealthy woman was to remain, an estate worth over three and a half billion dollars, dirty money. A refugee on the run the one place she had just vacationed from; Spain. If this didn’t serve to piss her off any further… She was to request The German’s services, a ridiculous plan. Amunet somehow doubted that The German would do bodyguard work. Then again, for a good price and a beautiful woman, anything was possible. Her name was to be Veronica Espinoza, and there was a private credit card with the name etched on it, for her to buy the wardrobe that fit the part. Craig sent off a formal invitation for The German to meet Veronica at her beach home in Rio de Janeiro , Brazil for a second housewarming party. All of the wealthy colleagues and affiliates would be attending. The next several hours involved an uncomfortable flight, the shipping of her clothing with
The Egyptian: rushed delivery, jet lag and finally sleep. Her home was a spacious waterfront home with open, high rise ceilings and windows in a contemporary design. Amunet couldn’t stress enough, her like for clean lines, and it came as no surprise that the ash grey and white theme was displayed in many different ways throughout each bedroom. Her fireplace was decorated in mosaic tiles, and the balcony from her bedroom contained huge bamboo shutters that could be slid back to view the setting sun overlooking the green tile pool in her backyard. She left behind Amunet and picked up the seductive arrogance of a wealthy Veronica Espinoza who needed a little more help in the guarding department. She was prepared for the challenge.
The rubber peeled off his skin, moist, damp, and sweaty from use and extensive heat releasing from his body. A bubbly squash as the round shape of his digits slipped through the sockets of the hand piece worn tight to his shape and form. Tossing the glove into the fire place, he planted the evidence inside the wife and immediately went to fleeing. His cell phone would suddenly vibrate as he walked out of the scene he read a text message.- “Male. File attached.” –He opened the phone deactivating the self-destruction sequence on it before reviewing the top secret documents on it where he reviewed the invitation lettering, the woman who sent it, and the location. He reviewed his instructions.- “Kill the Egyptian.” –He instinctively switched to reading the layout of the building, his fingers tapping key locations that would offer options of explosives, sniper shots, ballistic reports,<c>
top notch technology that would put the Military, CIA, and FBI to shame. He examined the information and ran the mathematical equations through his head. He then flipped to analyze his target, Amunet in New York, Miami, Japan, and then Spain. Her last photo had him pause and take in.- ‘She was beautiful…Young. Naïve. I could tell in that moment there was something special about her. I felt like I was looking at a female version of myself…her origin Is unknown but her call sign “The Egyptian” even had a sexy ring to it. Something told me that wild sex was out of this bargaining deal. It would be a were moments later that I was finding myself walking up the stairs to her trap, like a wolverine the wolf would know they were in for a fight…’ –The German approached the door and knocked, outfitted with a typical black and white business suit with an additional piece of clothing, a black hat with a white strap around it. He knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response.- <c>
‘I analyze my datapad, the satellite imagery gave me feed of heat sources within the area. It was almost useless seeing as it’s almost 95 degrees outside. A sniper or something of that nature would definitely stand out unless he was in an icebox. I wait for her to respond, I calculate my approach over and over in my head. I’m unarmed save the two arm blades, the flash powder in my belt and the poison in my jacket. My brown hair is groomed, slicked casually back and tucked underneath my hat. My pants hang down to my hips to appear like a typical American of this decade. I make sure to wear protection…Her victims seem to suffer from bruising in the genitals, but they are typically taller, stronger, and uglier men. She might have a different opinion of my sex appeal. Especially after she hears my proposition…My intell knows more about her…someone from the inside, but they’re only feeding me information on a “need to know” basis…I think I’m going to like this woman.’
The Egyptian: A wealthy woman never answered her own door. He would be greeted by a tanned, male with an athletic build that was just too ‘beefy’ beneath a suit of white. Clean cut, hair slicked down upon his head, carrying a silver tray with Champagne filled glasses. The ‘party’ was boisterous, filled with men and women of prestigious order and wealth. Despite the unforgivingly humid weather, most men and women were dressed in smothering formal attire, bunched in clusters of three or four to a group, chatting, drinking and snacking on petite appetizers. It was easy to see, however, that the main attraction was crowded by numerous couples, all lingering on her every word. They hadn’t a clue as to who she was, but the thing about the circle of wealth was that a business connection that would look good on any resume, was good enough for them to flock around and kiss her feet. There she stood, when everyone else was dressed in black, Amunet, now Veronica, stood tall in a Peacock scheme number. The
The Egyptian: number was long sleeved, but that left nothing to be desired as the neck line plunged, stopping just below her navel. Her skin was golden, acquiring a slight tan after only being in town for a week. The flowing train of the dress was nothing compared to the matching dip, curving to stop just above the not so subtle bump of her backside, a dress that was a tease. Gold strapped heels rest upon her feet, gold bangles upon her wrist, and her golden blonde hair swimming in soft waves, spilling over her shoulders. She lifted thick lashes as one of the males whispered into her ear about her new arrival, and instantly, she knew exactly who it was. Green-grey hues locked upon the suited male with the charming little hat, and the left corner of her full lips turned up in a small smirk. She waved the clerk away, and the group surrounding her had parted to allow him into the tight circle. Just behind her, was a wall of windows overlooking the rippling water, people still frolicking out on speed
The Egyptian: boats and yachts. Apparently the photos did him no justice, as the figure before her was much more attractive than she remembered, however, that wasn’t the objective. She was to destroy him. The crowd dispersed to mingle outside close to the pool, others on the terrace upon the waterfront display. She too, was unarmed, save for one Sai dagger upon her inner thigh, hooked to a strap that she was sure he could see just beneath the not so innocent split crawling up her dress. “Glad to see that you could make it.” A thick accent, even if false. “Welcome to Brazil.” She didn’t extend her hand just yet. After all, what arrogant woman would?
‘The atmosphere was fake…These ‘rich people’ don’t know anything about life. Their laughter, their smiles, their ogling eyes over the most overly priced piece of toilet paper, craving it only because it’s expensive. Their ‘1st class citizenship excludes them from buying 2nd class items that were 50 to 75% cheaper and more efficient. God how these people piss me off. I then lay eyes on her, a goddess in the flesh. I try what I can to keep my pants from revealing the natural reaction I get from her. Her outfit doesn’t permit much…her attire is not her style, she prefers something more conservative. She has some dignity, but knows she’s incredibly attractive. She uses it as a distraction; she’s as much of a peacock as her outfit is. Now, we’re talking. I stand casual, allowing my posture to provide confidence and ignorance. My shoulders are relaxed, not stiff. My hands are in my pockets while my arms lazily hang from them using my hands to brace them up. <c>
Her tan wasn’t natural, but her breasts were. I take the opportunity to let her know *exactly* what I’m interested in. My blue eyes drop down to that dip just below her naval and between her hips, before eyeing over that circular birth mark etched into her taunt abs that were flat and probably the most flexible thing in the room. She knows that I’m having sex with her; in here…It’s the part of me I give her. Letting her see an aspect of truth, a genuine attraction to her body, it may throw her for a curve ball, believing me to be some kind of uptight, sex depraved, lonely man who kills to let out his frustration. No, Egyptian, I’m not that man. We know we’re smarter than that. You can read my eyes that I know why you’re here and why I’m here. I smile as these blue eyes look into her mint chocolate chip colored eyes blended with a faded layer of blue fading the colors into a gray like tone.’ <c>
“Ms. Veronica Espinoza…{How}[are]<you>?” ‘German, Russian, Japanese…I smile at her and then speak Middle Eastern-…’ “^I’ve come to share with you a proposition that you won’t want to refuse…Do you have a bedroom we can go to?^” ‘…-Egyptian. My head strong nature is probably tipping her off, she’s going to adjust and calculate me, and she knows I have control of the situation, but she’s wondering how much. How much of her operation is compromised, who gave up her operation, is it an inside job? Did she show weakness? Did she pick the wrong words? Or my favorite, do I sleep with him and kill him in the morning?’
The Egyptian: He spoke, and she was neither surprised, nor impressed. But his words didn’t mean much. The look in his eyes said more than enough. He had figured her out before she could ever really slip him her form of poison. Was she afraid? Hardly. He was appraising her form, even if she hadn’t been picking that fact out in a more direct manner. Her expression left nothing to be revealed, but she rewarded his traveling hues by turning her back to him. ‘Never turn your back to a threat. But something tells me that he’s not going to bite me too hard.’ They were the only two left standing in the entertainment room, chatting about nothing. She reached behind her to overlap her arms, palms cupping her elbows as she stepped passed him. Her fragrance lingered within the air around them, something sweet, roses, but not too strong. There was a bounce in her step, contrary to the stiffer and professionally curved switch she had otherwise. He asked for a place to speak with her, and here, she had two
The Egyptian: choices. She could break character and take him somewhere that was playing it safe for Amunet, but even here, her cover was already blown. Who would care where she took this man? According to the people who surrounded her, she was rich, and it was normal for her to take a suitor to someplace a little more private to talk. She scribbled over the lines of her script in her head and played things her way. Brushing past him she purposefully bumped his shoulder and turned to look over her own, “Follow me…” She’d take her time walking past the patio window, people a little less formal now, with more alcohol within their systems, some even jumping into her pool. There was a wooden staircase that wound around clean white walls, leading to a second floor with seven doors. The last of which were a pair of double doors leading to the Master Suite. Again, taking her time was her best bet in this, or maybe part of her wanted him to see her from behind. The sex appeal shouldn’t have mattered, but
The Egyptian: Amunet was no Immortal. The job. The goddamn job comes first. ‘Was he good-looking?’ She remembered Bailey’s voice, and mentally replied, ‘This one is, Bailey. I feel like I’m in Dangerous Liaisons.’ She reached for the knob and turned, leading him into a room that was dark until her left hand shot towards the light switch, flicking it on. “Have a seat.” She managed as she stepped towards the balcony to close the bamboo shutters, locking out the outside world, but not the humid breeze of Beautiful Brazil. The screams of women and chanting of men below were deafened just slightly as she closed the last shutter and turned to him. Slender digits ran through those golden waves before placing that same hand upon the swell of her hip. Craig sent her out onto a Suicide Mission, but those were the ones that excited her the most…
‘Every breath she took, I was intrigued. Fascinating how she was cool and relaxed. She wasn’t a typical agent externally or internally. Not the shell of a woman having a husband or family to worry about. I would make a personal note to find out more about this mysterious vixen. I follow her as she walks slowly, the strip tease of the century before me, I let that moment prove that I am the strongest man she has ever met…And I keep my hands off allowing her shoulder to brush against me and let her backside taunt. The house was expensive, as were the guests and the staff. Where would she lead me? To our final confrontation? To another battleground for us to properly exchange greetings and steel? I would have fun with this one, she was a jewel, a diamond, and if not properly etched she could shatter and forever be lost to my dreams. Admittedly a piece of me would die if I don’t provide her with due respect and grace.’ <c>
-The stairs takes an eternity with a reward of seeing her tight legs and smooth skin. Her dress riding up-…is she wearing underwear? …I don’t think she is. We arrive at the dusk of a room only for an immediate dawn to occur, she offers me a seat but I don’t take it, not without incentive or reward. I sat next to the chair, positioning my legs with distance between them. My eyes tracing her spine, ribcage, and shoulder blades.- “I am the German…A pleasure to finally meet the acquaintance of someone with such a reputation in our line of work…You’ve gone through quite a bit of trouble to get my attention. Now you have me in your web. So what does she do with her prize?” –His tone was confident, reminding her of her task at hand, while also implying he too had a job and superiors that he must obey.-
The Egyptian: Choices; She was always reminded that she had more than one decision to make, a route to choose. He was there, within her clutches. She could attempt to subdue him, and have a few of those fake waiters come and help her lift the body into a Town car and escort his ass back to the U.S. and into the temporary and no doubt, illegal custody of Craig, who would no doubt rough him up something fierce, if not kill him. She dropped her arms as her side before her left hand slid between her legs to grip the hilt of her dagger and slide it from its temporary holster. She was aimlessly twirling it between her fingers, her eyes rest upon him as he formally introduced himself, prompting her to drop her accent and her act, “The Egyptian. But, you already knew that.” His question brought the blade to an abrupt stop, resting it against her collar bone. She’d have to answer this carefully, “There’s no easy way around this. So, if you’re going to put up a fight, it’d better be a good one.” Apparently,
The Egyptian: she was going to go against him anyway, despite the hint that someone had blown her cover. On second thought… she lowered the blade, “I’m only going to ask you once. You knew about me before you even stepped foot through that door. Tell me what you know.” She said ask, but in order to set the tone of just how serious she was, she was going to have to demand, rather than use the charms she knew she had, in order to convince him to tell her what it was he knew about her. Half of Amunet’s mind played the thought within her mind that he was probably the kind to take a bride of the more… physical kind. If she had to play that part, she’d play it to the end. However, there was another half that believed that he wouldn’t even require such from her. Perhaps that little proposition of his would come to light. All she had to do was wait a little, loosen him up.
-His eyebrow raised in intrigue watching her arm herself and then fiddle with it as if it were a toy.- ‘Her hand could pitch that towards me at 60 miles per hour without breaking a sweat, with training and strength, probably another 10 or 20 miles on that throw. I listen to her speak and I nod, I don’t break character as I walk towards her, closing distance, cutting down that speed she has on her throw while offering her an opportunity of lethal strikes at close range. Her introduction offers me an opportunity to explain.’ “You knew that I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for this entrapment and yet here I am, unarmored and at your mercy. Furthermore, you know who I am and that I’m not someone to be played as a fool. And make no mistake, whatever you may have heard about me…I take this job very seriously. What tipped me off was mail being delivered to me. I never get mail but, my benefactors’ leave it open to find out who is after me and my constituents.” <c>
‘I read what she does, how does she react before continuing.- “My question is, why did you want me here? Not one for hanging on the arm of a billionaire drug lord, learning his every secret?” ‘My blue eyes study her once more, my eyes scanning her body, her shoulders, arms, hands, wrist, and her torso. My blades are ready for her to try and off me…As it stands, I find the idea exhilarating. Death by a vixen worthy of staining my blade with her blood. I imagine sex with her some what the same; moving within her depth as my blade sinking into that soft skin of her shoulder while the pain of teeth ripping my flesh as her dagger punctures between my right ribcage from behind me…The thought makes me warm.-
The Egyptian: His comment brought a small smile to her face. Amusing, just slightly, “I never stick around long enough to learn something that doesn’t benefit me.” He stepped forward, she stepped back. One thing she would always take into consideration was the distance between herself and her opponent. Close range was too close. She pivoted just slightly upon her heels to keep herself from back into a wall, moving closer towards the door. In case he charged at her, she’d be able to step aside and allow him and the staircase to become better acquainted with one another. Personal space; It was what kept that comfortable distance from someone else, both physically and emotionally. Since she didn’t have to play the part of the seductive, arrogant heiress, there wasn’t much need for flirting with him using her body language anymore. “I lured you here, out from under the noses of my Boss.” Away from his protective, watchful eye, but she kept that part out of the conversation. “I was sure that you’d be
The Egyptian: more likely to show up somewhere in which the lines on being captured were… much more loose than they are back in America.” Also, it was the thrill of the challenge, taking him on. One on one without Craig yelling at her in worry, or sending in back up like Bailey who wasn’t even qualified to work on the same level as Amunet, in all honesty. Her eyes traveled his visage again, just taking in a few extra details in case she needed them in the long run. “I just saved your ass a lot of heat.” She crossed arms over her chest, dagger still in hand. “What still remains, if the fact that you didn’t exactly answer my question.” She quirked a brow in his direction, lips slightly pursed. She shifted her weight to her right leg, her hip sticking just slightly, outlining her curves just a little more in that dress as the split feathered open just a little more. She wondered how long they’d play twenty one questions before she actually got any useful information out of him.
The Egyptian: backing*
