Post by Jack'Aran on Dec 18, 2012 14:36:02 GMT -5
Beijing, China – The paper instruments plucked by the fingers of professional musicians, the finest the country could offer, a woman stood on the stage of a wooden floor, the dark brown boards were perfectly carved and treated to have a smooth surface. The Asian woman’s eyes were painted with a stroke of blue on the side of each eye, long eye lashes to match her black tied hair and complement her pink cheeks. Her professional Chinese dress was long and wrapped around her figure form fittingly with dark blue cloth. Her hips shook emphasizing and teasing the eye of men as a light blue design of her clothing held a mystical glow with every capture of a golden shine from the lights beaming onto her figure and the stage. Men and women gathered around her dressed in business suits and formal female attire matching that of the dancer. <c>
Despite the traditional appearance of the room designed with eight long pillars erect from the floor to the ceiling painted in red with gold Chinese dragons designed on them. The building held top security of men dressed in business suits, sunglasses, wiring within the pair of mazes on either side of their heads. Their wrists held microphones clipped to their cuffs, attached to their hips were tazers opposing the side of their cell phones and wallet contained on their inner left pocket of their suit jackets. The inner left breast of their shirt contained a pistol sling while their right breast pocket contained their communication device attached to the communications system within a sky box overlooking the temple. Drums would begin pounding and the beat wound pick up as the woman danced faster, <c>
beginning to kick her legs and out of her backside threw a long mystical piece of cloth following to be a tail appearing like a dragon. Her wrists would pop and reveal two dragon heads that she began twirling around as she would thrust her arms in directions similar to Dragon style Kung fu. The German took notice of her figure, remaining silent amongst the crowd of men, his gaze shifting as he leaned over to an ash tray to flick the ash off the white paper of his smoke. The man under watch was a big shot “Cho Tsune” who owned this social night club known as “The Temple.” The clubs name derived from its external appearance of an ancient Chinese temple. <c>
Cho Tsune’s wife was dancing on stage, she was an amazing acrobatic and excellent fighter, and her record is 15 and 0.’ She was a living beauty and as lethal as she was sexy. Cho Tsune kept her under close watch, but he didn’t need to. No one was stupid enough to mess with the daughter of the Dragon Triads of Beijing, she was the daughter of their Leader; Gao Dong Chan, though an opportunity to sleep with his daughter Da-zhong Chan, I’d take it and have fun with the danger afterwards. Though, they would only cut off her head or bury her in cement. Hardly worship for something so deserving.’
The Egyptian: Both the failure to execute and communicate with Craig had pissed him off to the highest degree. But, Amunet hardly worried about the emotional abuse she received because of it. She knew that something had to be wrong, and that this wasn’t a prolonged version of ‘menstruation’ on his part. Supposing that she was growing a little more than tired of his recent antics, when he demanded that she follow his every move, she left without hesitation. She landed in Beijing 20 hours after his own arrival, but she was nothing besides a ghost. Assuming that this man was stupid was far from her mind, and she knew better. She also knew that he would know within the first few minutes, as to whether or not he was being tracked. However, she played the stealth game pretty well. She stayed close to the Village at Sanlitun, something to keep her busy until she had something else to do. To be honest, she didn’t really give a shit about the man Craig wanted dead, but a job was a job. This time around,
The Egyptian: he never specified whether he wanted him dead or alive, and interrogation wasn’t much of Amunet’s specialty. She took no prisoners and she wouldn’t start now. Once checking into her hotel, a city sky rise close to the mall that seemed to bustle with life, she ordered a glass of wine and sat at her window, eyes following the lights and the traffic. The one benefit in all of this, was that this time around, Craig’s rules of execution could go straight to hell. She’d be following her own orders and as far as she was concerned, here in China, she was on another vacation. Her room was decorated in a lovely shade of red on two walls, and a relaxing neutral on the others. Gold laced nearly every object in the room and there wasn’t a mantle without a dragon upon it. The décor of the room wasn’t important, but a surprising mix of both traditional and contemporary pieces, not to mention in art, as well. Tonight, she was going to take a bath, and think carefully about her next move.
The Russian: Standing out, it was his job, or was it really? Most people walk beside the man, noticing the what looked to be humble giant approach, and greeted with smile and questions of family and influence upon his size. It was normal for someone in the man’s position, but that was only because they wouldn’t have known about the actual path this man’s feet had walked. The enigma which was the life of Nikolai Reznikov was that of most intrigue to people around him. He’s lied to their faces, telling them about he had an office job as a law firm, or how he’d be left alone with his own entrepreneurship vision on broking business. He’d gone by many names, but only a few knew the real identity of this man gave way to only a few. A short flight people would say from Tokyo to Beijing, the male wasn’t one to the trapped in the confines of what was his temporary place of sleep. -
The Russian: The hotel, which was about a fifteen minute walk away from his current location, was too small for him the minute he stepped inside that room, and placing his things down. He was sitting down at the bar area of this place, The Hive it was called, just another bar, as always. Nothing lethal on his person, just the wallet and car keys. The question at hand was what kind of person was Nikolai to be hanging out in a bar area? It wasn’t much, just another hole in the wall, though inside the place was littered with the scent of cigarette smoke, and alcohol. Taking his time at this moment, an eye focused upon him, that of a female. A coy smile from the woman’s embrace, she was at least a foot shorter than himself. He’d leave it alone, but she continued to make motions towards him, a radiant like glow from the yellow honeycomb lights around the woman. Nikolai went into ignore of said face, giving a sigh. What was it now? Three?; Four days. He honestly couldn’t help but to wait. That was all.
‘The air smells of burnt wood and cherry wax, the wax filters out the scent of the wood. I’m dressed at my best, I appear like an American, dress in a tuxedo, my hat left behind my chair as I sit at my table leaning with my left elbow on the table. Cologne bought in Japan gives them the idea I’m from the west coast of the United States, though my appearance is clearly that of Eastern; German descent and settlers. I close my eyes and try to enjoy the moment, that short lived time at home comes back to me and drives me forward, reminding me of how I got into this life. The European date I fixed speaks Dutch and Chinese, she watches intensively believing I’m Michael Harrisburg’ <c>
‘I’m an archeologist looking for a break in Chinese literature, came for some sightseeing. Unfortunately she won’t ever get to see me in more than this tuxedo, she should be so lucky. I flick the ashes off my cigarette when my lips hold the paper cylinder and my hands create an annoying popping sound, it taunts with the rest of the room as Da-zhong Chan bows to everyone to extend her gratitude and absorb her fame amongst the crowd. I watch as she slips back stage. My attention is taken from her as the Dutch woman next to me traces the side of my ear and forces my attention to her. She whispers about going back to the hotel and how she has popped a few things that’ll keep her awake all night. I would’ve paid attention, but my racing mind takes sight of an opportunity.’ <c>
‘I stand and pull the Dutch woman with me, she grabs my hat and we slip towards the bathroom and she begins to complain, I was waiting for this side of her to show. Unfortunately there are only so many ways to knock a person unconscious without bruising. I’m kind to her, she drops down into my arms in the middle of calling me a French sissy. Tie her to a seat and leave her for the gentlemen’s amusement and entertainment. I step out adjusting my cuffs and slipping a comb from my jacket sleeve, and comb my hair as I slip into the stage office room. My friend, Cho Tsune is distracted talking to his investors, that his beloved Da-zhong Chan is vulnerable within her dressing room. My hand slips the comb away and I catch glimpse, my schedule is thirty seconds in and I’m already a minute ahead of schedule. Now it’s just the cat and the canary.’
The Egyptian: She was like the cat, hiding in the dark, waiting for the right opportunity to drag her prey into her clutches. Amunet was either going to have to chat with him again, which left a bad taste in her mouth, or she’d just shove this mission right where Craig couldn’t reach without the help of surgery. Her anger flared at the thought and caused her to down the rest of her wine. She needed a distraction, something to do, and when her phone beeped she was almost ready to forgive Craig and excuse his behavior. The target was a woman who only went by the moniker; The Cellist. Her record was juicy. Fraud, money laundering, murder, extortion, kidnapping, torture, and the list went on. Part of her felt as if Craig was trying to play Interpol, rather than the job they had set out to accomplish. However, she supposed that one woman like this off of the streets would make some difference in the world. Amunet read a little more information about how this woman flocked in a dangerous circle, and was
The Egyptian: , and was commonly seen at the Chinese temple, in the heart of Beijing. She checked her watch and clicked her teeth, “It’s a busy night. She’ll be there. If anything, I just need to see her face.” She stood from her seat and slipped away into the bedroom to change. Arriving at the destination in question only about an hour later, she was thankful that her Chinese was still up to par. She stepped out in a modern ball gown, styled with the inspiration of Chinese formal wear. Not much to begin with , though the slit was enough to stop any man in his tracks. A strapless number that even she felt like covering up, but only for the sake of the chill upon her skin. When she entered, however, the hopes of remaining warm were taken, along with her coat. The peak of her entire foot in a gold strapped heel, wasn’t much of a peak at all, especially not with the revealing of a milky toned thigh. She moved into the center of the guests flocking at the door before moving further in. Stroking a
The Egyptian: stray strand of hair back before tucking it into her make-shift bun, she dipped and moved further in. She cared not for the eyes upon her, but she didn’t move too quick or carelessly. Amunet was unarmed, even if she knew that her target wouldn’t be; A challenge, if they should actually come face to face…
The Russian: They didn’t understand, nobody did. In all good honesty, Nikolai didn’t want them to understand what that man had gone through, because of course, it was his own choice to be in the situation he was. Passing glances between the male and female before he decided to make his way off into the distance, going back to his hotel, leaving that woman there with a frown on her face. Now, being followed by that small asian woman, like a puppy in the rain, trying to get into the warmth that was his embrace. Turning down what was an alley on the way back to the hotel on this newborn night, he waited, the woman which hustled her way to catch him quickly disposed of her. Suffocating her into unconsciousness, the red dress upon the pale woman’s skin shook until droplets began to fall from her eyes, the muffle groans and struggles only making the process quicker.-
The Russian: Finally, she went limp, Nikolai looked left and right, not a care about the situation other than what seemed to be a handgun in her purse which was now on the ground. P226, military grade, like that people in the armed forces should be carrying, not a woman on the street. After more investigating, he’d notice the identification card of the woman’s actual identity, from her security card. Nikolai had seen enough. Was he really being traced, and he had just gotten here? Moments passed as his judgement came over him before sighing. Taking the woman now, and placing her neck within his arms, he began to makeshift noose himself for another kill. She had awoken from it, twitching and struggling even more before the body went limp again. Business was that. Now, walking back to this hotel suite, up the elevator, what was it? Fourteenth floor, room 284. After entering the room, he’d throw down the leather jacket, beginning to fix himself into that suit he’d always have prepared. -
The Russian: Phone call, notifying him of the situation. “Alright, yes...” Nikolai answered simply before hanging up, he was supposed to be meeting a man, known as Cypher. He’d be waiting at The Temple, shaven head, mustache, almost from out of the movies. He’d move quickly, didn’t want to keep the man waiting. 30 minutes to this place known as The Temple, he’d start preparing.
The Cellist: Tora had been sitting in a room all to herself; Her dressing room, powdering her face and caressing her neck in the finest scented oils sent from Paris. She enjoyed making people wait on her hand and foot, making them squirm with desire or burn with hate. There wasn’t much she really cared for, except for herself, her time and the materialistic things that her money and good looks could get for her. She slipped into something a little less traditional and a little more Western. A simple, formal black gown and shall with black jeweled slippers upon her feet. Her hair rests comfortably at her shoulders, her neck baring no jewels to distract anyone from her face. Her jawline was smooth, cascading down into a graceful swan neck. Silky, dark locks framing such a sweet face with the twisted expression of a woman too quiet to even speak with. Her lips were curved into a confident smile, one that spoke volumes and possibly, ‘Every one of you lowly dogs wants to touch me, but it will never
The Cellist: happen, unless you can pay the right price.’ Stepping forth into a crowd, forced her to be alert. It wouldn’t be the first time anyone has made an attempt on her life. She had to admit that she had a record and reputation that would put any male in her world, to shame. While basking in her own presence, her own beauty and surrounded by the fake bastards that claimed to adore the very soil her feet touched, she kept an eye out. There was a shift in the crowd, something different than usual and it made her regret not picking a bigger weapon that a short blade dagger.
‘I slip into the room and I catch the sound of movement, I cautiously turn the corner to see Da-zhong preparing to undress. “Who are you?” She asks me, I twist my body and lean against the wall.’ “Michael. I wanted to applaud your performance.” ‘I could feel those green eyes peeling away at me, she thought I was cute, but she kept her hands off me out of some honor for her family and Cho Tsune. I’ll make it easy for her. Before she knows what happened my lips are locked against hers and I have her sitting on top of her drawer. My hands move along her thighs before they grip her desk and my head drops down. A woman in the lap of luxury, given her every need except one. Pleasure wasn’t what she wanted, she had plenty of that within this family…By now I got what I want and I bring my lips to caress her throat, tugging at her flesh, I imagine she’s Evelyn…I show her true emotion and she adores it. The sound of a door opening silences her moaning and craving.’ <c>
‘My escape is halted as her legs are wrapped around my hips, the sound of four feet walking into the room has us both realize the danger of the situation. She releases me and quickly goes to greet the men. Amidst all the excitement, I lost track of time…I glimpse at my wrist to see we’re ten seconds over. Damn. She talks down the stiffs and is off with them leaving her dressing room and me in it. But I got what I need; a pass card to Tsune’s vault. I get this to an expert hacker and I’ll move into the next portion of my plan. The card itself is encrypted and coded; it’ll take a genius a few seconds to break, but my expertise aren’t in this field. I leave it to professionals. After a moment I slip out of the dressing room and go to retrieve my hat from the bathroom. Entering the room I hear the panting of a man in the stall my date was left in. So much for an all-nighter, she sounds as dead as a doornail and this guy seems like he hit the jackpot.’ <c>
‘I scoop my hat off the floor and twirl it onto my head and begin to step out when I noticed the entire ruckus, crowds of people moving about. My eyes land on her again, a vixen, the great white buffalo, my Kryptonite…The Egyptian. Okay, maybe she’s not my buffalo. And she really isn’t Kryptonite since she can’t really kill me. I take a look at her conservative outfit and wonder if I should cut to the chase and surprise her with a dance. That kind of outfit could conceal quite a few weapons, the danger was interesting. I make it a point to approach walking up to her I extend my hand.’ “The Egyptian, it is such a pleasure to see you again. Michael Harrisburg.”
The Egyptian: “Not now, Michael.” Though the original plan was to be there for him, she wasn’t at the temple for him. She was dusting off the offered hand as her eyes set themselves upon the woman she had been looking for. ‘Jackpot.’ She thought. Now, if only she could get a little closer. Was he asking her to dance? Amunet wasn’t going to take his hand because he wanted her to, and if anything, she could possibly use him to dance a little closer to that woman. That is, if he had actually been asking her to dance. Her eyes narrowed for a second, watching the other move past people melting like butter at her entrance. This immediately led her to believe that it wasn’t going to be so easy to get close to her, not without being blocked like the Guards block the entrance to Buckingham Palace. Fine. She’ll dance, but only for her benefit. With a small scoff, mostly too quiet to hear, she snatched at ‘Michael’s hand and rested her hand upon his shoulder, pinching it as if to get him to jump start into
The Egyptian: action. “I’ll lead.” She grumbled, bringing herself a little too close to him. She was about to take the first step, when she realized that there hadn’t been any music to dance to, but a miracle was in the works, and suddenly and ambient tune echoed through the Temple. Now was her time to move, or else she’d miss the glimpse of her target. Amunet knew she wouldn’t be able to get her at an event like this, and was going to have to get a little more personal in this mission. All of sudden, her trust in regards to Craig, was brought into question, but that was an entirely different subject. Tora was on the move and they were steady going nowhere…
The Russian: Finally entering the area, Nikolai looked left and right, crowds of rich, posh like people were of course the scene. The suited man got many looks, mostly security detail. Finally entering the wonderful place that seemed to be one of the highest standing placing of the Beijing culture, he’d search for the person he was supposed to meet. Thailand, that was his next stop, asking questions, and maybe a kill or two if he needed to. Honestly, he’d thought looking for Carmen Sandiego would be easier at this point instead of his lo- what? Love?... Yeah, love. Cypher was on time, and he was dressed in almost the same attire. They went by tie colors to show ranking in the organization he had worked for. Cypher must’ve been big, he wore a red tie, as for Nikolai?; Black. A small shake of the hand would be the transfer of the message, Nikolai looked left, and then right. The dance floor, just a simple spot which he’s pay attention to if need be. Now back to Cypher. “My condolences... sir.” -
The Russian: Cypher had spoken, Nikolai tilting his head before looking away, then back, Cypher, disappeared. “What..?” Nikolai had spoke before opening his hand, a note inside of it, crumbled up and tattered from what seemed to be blood stains on the side of it. He’d question this later, but for now, he’d place said note inside of his jacket pocket. Looking back to the dance floor, and staying silent, he’d focus his walk around it, mingling time, getting asked questions, ladies asking for his name. “Aleks...” Nikolai said, keeping his cover before going to find something to drink.(e)
The Cellist: There was the glimpse of blonde hair, a striking figure, and this of course, had Tora a little curious. Was she an American? She noticed that not a lot of American’s flocked here to begin with, but on a second glance she was sure that the woman was anything but a Westerner. Her eyes fixed themselves on the figure of the woman coming into view for a brief moment, “Ah, there’s a pretty face…” She whispered to herself, “I knew you’d be here eventually.” Tora was waiting for the woman to make eye contact with her, and as soon as her little wish was granted, she made sure that Amunet read a certain underlying challenge held within her gaze. She parted her lips to mouth the phrase, ‘Catch me if you can…’ before turning her back to Amunet and disappearing into the crowd.
-Kyle’s hand would grasp Amunet’s as she led him; he smirked at her and spoke. “You know, this place is out of your league…This is up on my tier…” ‘She could feel my lean in closer, exchanging of scent while I afford her cover to search for her target.’ “These people can make you disappear and not in a good way…This isn’t just a one man show…There’s at least sixteen other benefactors present here tonight and-…” ‘I lead her into a twirl traditional of colonial dancing.’ “…You’re in the heart of a spider’s web tugging on strings…” ‘I stop the dance in the middle of it; I bring my hand to her cheek and attempt to force her attention.’ “ Don’t get yourself into trouble here. And be careful.“ ‘My hand drops from her and I step back from her, tipping my hat I say. “Thank you for the dance, but I have other arrangements.” <c>
I turn and spot a strange fellow; a giant of some proportion pocketing a letter, I catch his appearance and make an approach. He’s a large man, timber in appearance. I stop short of him and glance up at him. “All dressed up and no one to court? Michael Harrisburg.” I extend my hand offering to exchange greetings with him. You might wonder why I wouldn’t be afraid of such man, truthfully; he’s only a giant and it only takes six inches of steel to bring a giant down to his knees, and perhaps that overly apparent look of being from the North of Asia, a German and a Russian. Historically allies before enemies, an interesting fact that I took note. I don’t like when stereotypes are placed upon me for my heritage, so I would not place such narrow minded thought onto this man, whom I do not know…yet.’
The Egyptian: He thought she’d make enough noise to be noticed? Hardly. All she needed was one good look, a glance, a threat that would speak volumes to the other. She planned on taking The Cellist down, and she wouldn’t be leaving China until she saw to that task on her own. She made it a point not to react to every single thing he had been doing that would have otherwise gotten him in a line of direct retaliation, had she been anyone else. She figured that she’d listen to his words, but her attention would remain, searching in that direction for the vanishing woman. The dance was over and thankfully, the interaction was as well. It was cute that he called this place ‘my tier’ when he only knew so much about her. But, to brag about credentials was a fools game. She moved from him at the same time in which he did the same from her, traveling towards the ‘bar’ to have herself a small drink. This couldn’t have been all the night had to offer, was it? A dress, a glimpse and a terrible dance? It could
The Egyptian: have been worse...
The Russian: Vodka, two rocks. As always, that was what was in Nikolai’s left hand at the moment before he’d glance towards what seemed to be a male, questioning towards him about the poor situation of him having no one to court. He had one, didn’t he? Was she here? No, then that was the end of that. Quick, sly answer from the male as always, giving off the impression that the man still had a mind. “I just don’t wish it, ‘least your dance was well played. Aleks Makarov.” Nikolai said, polite smile before taking that man’s right hand into his left. Of course, he’d meet someone else that seemed to be level headed as the male himself, but then again, that was only what it seemed. Other things seeming would be that of how he danced with a previous target, Amunet. Nikolai was smart enough to not even recognize the female, ‘least to the male, which might tip him off of something coming into play. “What brings you here for the amazement which lies in The Temple?”-
The Russian: Nikolai tried to play it off clean, which he was able to do pretty well. Though, A Russian and a German talking was already like pulling teeth with one another, not going to mention the past of Mr. Reznikov had in his arsenal.
The Operative: Daniel had been keeping to the background, something he was good at, there was no fancy suit, simply a waiters outfit, complete with a faux professional smile and the occasional. "May I offer you a drink?" Before placing a tray in front of the guests. People remembered the man that showed up in a tailor made suit and struck up a charming conversation about art or philosphy, however, no one remembered the waiters, they were the help simply there to make the guests more comfortable, to neither be seen or heard. It was the perfect cover for recon, no one wondered why the waiter was standing so close to the bar, or mingling through the crowds with his eyes on everyone. A drink needed to be filled, an order needed to be made, the best disguise, he'd found, was the one that everyone assumed was too ridiculous to try. Amunet Ebonee, a blond bombshell that carried as much poise as she did skill. He had read, reread and picked through the dossier with a fine toothed comb. -c-
The Operative: His orders were simple. "Send a message." Daniel had always thought a hole through the head in a crowded place was message enough, anyone who needed to be paying attention was and it was proof that you could reach out and touch your enemies any time and any place, however, this employer was all about the theatrical, too many Mafia movies he supposed, still he had a job to do a certain way to do it and it would require a bit of recon to get it done. "Do you need another drink madame?" The elderly woman placed her empty glass on his tray and made her request with a roll of her eyes. Daniel smiled politely before moving to the bar, taking the empty glasses and placing them in the appropriate bin before turning to the bar tender. "Two Martini's, dirty, a Johnny Walker black, neat and a Scotch on the rocks." He hadn't missed his target standing less than four feet away, but he could listen without looking. -e-
-He smiled charmingly adjusting his hat to slide back some and reveal his forehead.”Thank you. She is quite the catch, isn’t she? In America, we have a lot of pretty girls, none like her back home…I’m here looking to get out of trouble.” ‘My tone was dead sober as my eyes scanned the room before switching back to him, my blue eyes staring into his eyes only to smirk.- “Women. You go home after a long day of work only for them to complain about you not fixing the garage door, taking your kid to the soccer game, and helping them with their homework…I’ll tell ya, as men. We didn’t sign up for this.” ‘I glimpse back towards the crowd of people and then place my hands on my hips.’ “Welp. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Marakov, but I must be on my way. Cheers.” ‘I give him a genuine smile before stepping into the crowd adjusting my hat in the process.’ <c>
‘Stepping out of The Temple and through the security I get a gut feeling that the Egyptian isn’t going to listen to me, I take up a position across the street, going to the second floor stairwell, I get a good view of the building. I slip out of my pocket the phone that allows me to view the security footage. I begin flipping through the guests using the facial recognition of the cameras and the order’s database. Their extensive knowledge seem limitless and I often wondered how big this group was and how many people were feeding them intelligence. If I didn’t already suffer from mild paranoia, I would wonder how much of my personal life they knew. I think for a moment before I realize that there were only two things I had left for me that no one knew about. I smirk and continue searching.’
The Egyptian: With her eyes directed elsewhere, giving up the search for the woman who had sent her a wordless challenge, she had to make up for the small amount of time in which all of her senses had been distracted. The scent of The German, the sight of The Cellist, the feel of warm hands, the sound of music and the taste of the small piece of caramel she had been sucking on the entire time. With everything finally settling down, she moved through the crowd to find the back exit within the place, leading to a parking lot in which an unmarked vehicle had just sped off. No doubt, that had been her target. With a look like the one given to her by the female, she wondered for a moment, why she would even run. Though, the answer was simple; Playtime. This was a woman who was good at killing people. She was good at stripping them of all defenses before bringing them to their knees, where she would finally decapitate them and place their heads on stakes. Thoughts that would sooner make a man sober up
The Egyptian: only excited Amunet. She enjoyed the hunt as much as she did the initial stripping of a person’s social status. The Cellist would become just another delicious morsel in a pie she didn’t bake. The more difficult the target, the more extravagant her finale would be. She remembered, though, that with every target she claimed, there was someone claiming her. She knew all too well that she wasn’t free of an enemy’s grasp, even if their initial aim had nothing to do with her. If and when the monster decided to show itself, she would be willing to fight him, “Shit…” She shook her head as she watched the tail lights of that unmarked car, grow to be dimmer, the further it drove on…
The Operative: mDaniel kept his eyes on Amunet as much as possible while remaining covert, noticing her moving to the parking lot, he changed course, placing the tray on the edge of the bar as he stepped into the kitchen. He had precious little time to act, and so he began undressing as he moved, heading out the back exit he disposed of his vest and waiters shirt in the nearby trash recipticle and grabbed his backpack, this had been his exit strategy from the moment he assumed the role as an employee, considering the flow traffic in and out of the event it made for easy planning. He had been casing the place since he arrived, and immediately began his route to the roof, tossing the backpack on his shoulders he made value of a few keey footholes, scaling his way to the roof. Once there he sprinted to his vantage point, removing his Nikon D3200 camera equipped with a Canon Zoom Telephoto EF 100-300MM lense. He brought the vision port to his eye, and found her, before detecting her line of sight and
The Operative: following it as best he could. Nothing stuck out too him, but she was definitely looking for something, perhaps a target of her own. Bringing the camera to focus on Amunet once more, he snapped a few photos, luckily the parking lot was well lit, so the use of a flash was unneccisary. He'd use the photo's to confirm what he already knew, this was his target. Returning to the guise of waiter was too risky at this point, so he was stuck, holding his position until an opportunity to follow presented itself. "Gotcha, darling."
Despite the traditional appearance of the room designed with eight long pillars erect from the floor to the ceiling painted in red with gold Chinese dragons designed on them. The building held top security of men dressed in business suits, sunglasses, wiring within the pair of mazes on either side of their heads. Their wrists held microphones clipped to their cuffs, attached to their hips were tazers opposing the side of their cell phones and wallet contained on their inner left pocket of their suit jackets. The inner left breast of their shirt contained a pistol sling while their right breast pocket contained their communication device attached to the communications system within a sky box overlooking the temple. Drums would begin pounding and the beat wound pick up as the woman danced faster, <c>
beginning to kick her legs and out of her backside threw a long mystical piece of cloth following to be a tail appearing like a dragon. Her wrists would pop and reveal two dragon heads that she began twirling around as she would thrust her arms in directions similar to Dragon style Kung fu. The German took notice of her figure, remaining silent amongst the crowd of men, his gaze shifting as he leaned over to an ash tray to flick the ash off the white paper of his smoke. The man under watch was a big shot “Cho Tsune” who owned this social night club known as “The Temple.” The clubs name derived from its external appearance of an ancient Chinese temple. <c>
Cho Tsune’s wife was dancing on stage, she was an amazing acrobatic and excellent fighter, and her record is 15 and 0.’ She was a living beauty and as lethal as she was sexy. Cho Tsune kept her under close watch, but he didn’t need to. No one was stupid enough to mess with the daughter of the Dragon Triads of Beijing, she was the daughter of their Leader; Gao Dong Chan, though an opportunity to sleep with his daughter Da-zhong Chan, I’d take it and have fun with the danger afterwards. Though, they would only cut off her head or bury her in cement. Hardly worship for something so deserving.’
The Egyptian: Both the failure to execute and communicate with Craig had pissed him off to the highest degree. But, Amunet hardly worried about the emotional abuse she received because of it. She knew that something had to be wrong, and that this wasn’t a prolonged version of ‘menstruation’ on his part. Supposing that she was growing a little more than tired of his recent antics, when he demanded that she follow his every move, she left without hesitation. She landed in Beijing 20 hours after his own arrival, but she was nothing besides a ghost. Assuming that this man was stupid was far from her mind, and she knew better. She also knew that he would know within the first few minutes, as to whether or not he was being tracked. However, she played the stealth game pretty well. She stayed close to the Village at Sanlitun, something to keep her busy until she had something else to do. To be honest, she didn’t really give a shit about the man Craig wanted dead, but a job was a job. This time around,
The Egyptian: he never specified whether he wanted him dead or alive, and interrogation wasn’t much of Amunet’s specialty. She took no prisoners and she wouldn’t start now. Once checking into her hotel, a city sky rise close to the mall that seemed to bustle with life, she ordered a glass of wine and sat at her window, eyes following the lights and the traffic. The one benefit in all of this, was that this time around, Craig’s rules of execution could go straight to hell. She’d be following her own orders and as far as she was concerned, here in China, she was on another vacation. Her room was decorated in a lovely shade of red on two walls, and a relaxing neutral on the others. Gold laced nearly every object in the room and there wasn’t a mantle without a dragon upon it. The décor of the room wasn’t important, but a surprising mix of both traditional and contemporary pieces, not to mention in art, as well. Tonight, she was going to take a bath, and think carefully about her next move.
The Russian: Standing out, it was his job, or was it really? Most people walk beside the man, noticing the what looked to be humble giant approach, and greeted with smile and questions of family and influence upon his size. It was normal for someone in the man’s position, but that was only because they wouldn’t have known about the actual path this man’s feet had walked. The enigma which was the life of Nikolai Reznikov was that of most intrigue to people around him. He’s lied to their faces, telling them about he had an office job as a law firm, or how he’d be left alone with his own entrepreneurship vision on broking business. He’d gone by many names, but only a few knew the real identity of this man gave way to only a few. A short flight people would say from Tokyo to Beijing, the male wasn’t one to the trapped in the confines of what was his temporary place of sleep. -
The Russian: The hotel, which was about a fifteen minute walk away from his current location, was too small for him the minute he stepped inside that room, and placing his things down. He was sitting down at the bar area of this place, The Hive it was called, just another bar, as always. Nothing lethal on his person, just the wallet and car keys. The question at hand was what kind of person was Nikolai to be hanging out in a bar area? It wasn’t much, just another hole in the wall, though inside the place was littered with the scent of cigarette smoke, and alcohol. Taking his time at this moment, an eye focused upon him, that of a female. A coy smile from the woman’s embrace, she was at least a foot shorter than himself. He’d leave it alone, but she continued to make motions towards him, a radiant like glow from the yellow honeycomb lights around the woman. Nikolai went into ignore of said face, giving a sigh. What was it now? Three?; Four days. He honestly couldn’t help but to wait. That was all.
‘The air smells of burnt wood and cherry wax, the wax filters out the scent of the wood. I’m dressed at my best, I appear like an American, dress in a tuxedo, my hat left behind my chair as I sit at my table leaning with my left elbow on the table. Cologne bought in Japan gives them the idea I’m from the west coast of the United States, though my appearance is clearly that of Eastern; German descent and settlers. I close my eyes and try to enjoy the moment, that short lived time at home comes back to me and drives me forward, reminding me of how I got into this life. The European date I fixed speaks Dutch and Chinese, she watches intensively believing I’m Michael Harrisburg’ <c>
‘I’m an archeologist looking for a break in Chinese literature, came for some sightseeing. Unfortunately she won’t ever get to see me in more than this tuxedo, she should be so lucky. I flick the ashes off my cigarette when my lips hold the paper cylinder and my hands create an annoying popping sound, it taunts with the rest of the room as Da-zhong Chan bows to everyone to extend her gratitude and absorb her fame amongst the crowd. I watch as she slips back stage. My attention is taken from her as the Dutch woman next to me traces the side of my ear and forces my attention to her. She whispers about going back to the hotel and how she has popped a few things that’ll keep her awake all night. I would’ve paid attention, but my racing mind takes sight of an opportunity.’ <c>
‘I stand and pull the Dutch woman with me, she grabs my hat and we slip towards the bathroom and she begins to complain, I was waiting for this side of her to show. Unfortunately there are only so many ways to knock a person unconscious without bruising. I’m kind to her, she drops down into my arms in the middle of calling me a French sissy. Tie her to a seat and leave her for the gentlemen’s amusement and entertainment. I step out adjusting my cuffs and slipping a comb from my jacket sleeve, and comb my hair as I slip into the stage office room. My friend, Cho Tsune is distracted talking to his investors, that his beloved Da-zhong Chan is vulnerable within her dressing room. My hand slips the comb away and I catch glimpse, my schedule is thirty seconds in and I’m already a minute ahead of schedule. Now it’s just the cat and the canary.’
The Egyptian: She was like the cat, hiding in the dark, waiting for the right opportunity to drag her prey into her clutches. Amunet was either going to have to chat with him again, which left a bad taste in her mouth, or she’d just shove this mission right where Craig couldn’t reach without the help of surgery. Her anger flared at the thought and caused her to down the rest of her wine. She needed a distraction, something to do, and when her phone beeped she was almost ready to forgive Craig and excuse his behavior. The target was a woman who only went by the moniker; The Cellist. Her record was juicy. Fraud, money laundering, murder, extortion, kidnapping, torture, and the list went on. Part of her felt as if Craig was trying to play Interpol, rather than the job they had set out to accomplish. However, she supposed that one woman like this off of the streets would make some difference in the world. Amunet read a little more information about how this woman flocked in a dangerous circle, and was
The Egyptian: , and was commonly seen at the Chinese temple, in the heart of Beijing. She checked her watch and clicked her teeth, “It’s a busy night. She’ll be there. If anything, I just need to see her face.” She stood from her seat and slipped away into the bedroom to change. Arriving at the destination in question only about an hour later, she was thankful that her Chinese was still up to par. She stepped out in a modern ball gown, styled with the inspiration of Chinese formal wear. Not much to begin with , though the slit was enough to stop any man in his tracks. A strapless number that even she felt like covering up, but only for the sake of the chill upon her skin. When she entered, however, the hopes of remaining warm were taken, along with her coat. The peak of her entire foot in a gold strapped heel, wasn’t much of a peak at all, especially not with the revealing of a milky toned thigh. She moved into the center of the guests flocking at the door before moving further in. Stroking a
The Egyptian: stray strand of hair back before tucking it into her make-shift bun, she dipped and moved further in. She cared not for the eyes upon her, but she didn’t move too quick or carelessly. Amunet was unarmed, even if she knew that her target wouldn’t be; A challenge, if they should actually come face to face…
The Russian: They didn’t understand, nobody did. In all good honesty, Nikolai didn’t want them to understand what that man had gone through, because of course, it was his own choice to be in the situation he was. Passing glances between the male and female before he decided to make his way off into the distance, going back to his hotel, leaving that woman there with a frown on her face. Now, being followed by that small asian woman, like a puppy in the rain, trying to get into the warmth that was his embrace. Turning down what was an alley on the way back to the hotel on this newborn night, he waited, the woman which hustled her way to catch him quickly disposed of her. Suffocating her into unconsciousness, the red dress upon the pale woman’s skin shook until droplets began to fall from her eyes, the muffle groans and struggles only making the process quicker.-
The Russian: Finally, she went limp, Nikolai looked left and right, not a care about the situation other than what seemed to be a handgun in her purse which was now on the ground. P226, military grade, like that people in the armed forces should be carrying, not a woman on the street. After more investigating, he’d notice the identification card of the woman’s actual identity, from her security card. Nikolai had seen enough. Was he really being traced, and he had just gotten here? Moments passed as his judgement came over him before sighing. Taking the woman now, and placing her neck within his arms, he began to makeshift noose himself for another kill. She had awoken from it, twitching and struggling even more before the body went limp again. Business was that. Now, walking back to this hotel suite, up the elevator, what was it? Fourteenth floor, room 284. After entering the room, he’d throw down the leather jacket, beginning to fix himself into that suit he’d always have prepared. -
The Russian: Phone call, notifying him of the situation. “Alright, yes...” Nikolai answered simply before hanging up, he was supposed to be meeting a man, known as Cypher. He’d be waiting at The Temple, shaven head, mustache, almost from out of the movies. He’d move quickly, didn’t want to keep the man waiting. 30 minutes to this place known as The Temple, he’d start preparing.
The Cellist: Tora had been sitting in a room all to herself; Her dressing room, powdering her face and caressing her neck in the finest scented oils sent from Paris. She enjoyed making people wait on her hand and foot, making them squirm with desire or burn with hate. There wasn’t much she really cared for, except for herself, her time and the materialistic things that her money and good looks could get for her. She slipped into something a little less traditional and a little more Western. A simple, formal black gown and shall with black jeweled slippers upon her feet. Her hair rests comfortably at her shoulders, her neck baring no jewels to distract anyone from her face. Her jawline was smooth, cascading down into a graceful swan neck. Silky, dark locks framing such a sweet face with the twisted expression of a woman too quiet to even speak with. Her lips were curved into a confident smile, one that spoke volumes and possibly, ‘Every one of you lowly dogs wants to touch me, but it will never
The Cellist: happen, unless you can pay the right price.’ Stepping forth into a crowd, forced her to be alert. It wouldn’t be the first time anyone has made an attempt on her life. She had to admit that she had a record and reputation that would put any male in her world, to shame. While basking in her own presence, her own beauty and surrounded by the fake bastards that claimed to adore the very soil her feet touched, she kept an eye out. There was a shift in the crowd, something different than usual and it made her regret not picking a bigger weapon that a short blade dagger.
‘I slip into the room and I catch the sound of movement, I cautiously turn the corner to see Da-zhong preparing to undress. “Who are you?” She asks me, I twist my body and lean against the wall.’ “Michael. I wanted to applaud your performance.” ‘I could feel those green eyes peeling away at me, she thought I was cute, but she kept her hands off me out of some honor for her family and Cho Tsune. I’ll make it easy for her. Before she knows what happened my lips are locked against hers and I have her sitting on top of her drawer. My hands move along her thighs before they grip her desk and my head drops down. A woman in the lap of luxury, given her every need except one. Pleasure wasn’t what she wanted, she had plenty of that within this family…By now I got what I want and I bring my lips to caress her throat, tugging at her flesh, I imagine she’s Evelyn…I show her true emotion and she adores it. The sound of a door opening silences her moaning and craving.’ <c>
‘My escape is halted as her legs are wrapped around my hips, the sound of four feet walking into the room has us both realize the danger of the situation. She releases me and quickly goes to greet the men. Amidst all the excitement, I lost track of time…I glimpse at my wrist to see we’re ten seconds over. Damn. She talks down the stiffs and is off with them leaving her dressing room and me in it. But I got what I need; a pass card to Tsune’s vault. I get this to an expert hacker and I’ll move into the next portion of my plan. The card itself is encrypted and coded; it’ll take a genius a few seconds to break, but my expertise aren’t in this field. I leave it to professionals. After a moment I slip out of the dressing room and go to retrieve my hat from the bathroom. Entering the room I hear the panting of a man in the stall my date was left in. So much for an all-nighter, she sounds as dead as a doornail and this guy seems like he hit the jackpot.’ <c>
‘I scoop my hat off the floor and twirl it onto my head and begin to step out when I noticed the entire ruckus, crowds of people moving about. My eyes land on her again, a vixen, the great white buffalo, my Kryptonite…The Egyptian. Okay, maybe she’s not my buffalo. And she really isn’t Kryptonite since she can’t really kill me. I take a look at her conservative outfit and wonder if I should cut to the chase and surprise her with a dance. That kind of outfit could conceal quite a few weapons, the danger was interesting. I make it a point to approach walking up to her I extend my hand.’ “The Egyptian, it is such a pleasure to see you again. Michael Harrisburg.”
The Egyptian: “Not now, Michael.” Though the original plan was to be there for him, she wasn’t at the temple for him. She was dusting off the offered hand as her eyes set themselves upon the woman she had been looking for. ‘Jackpot.’ She thought. Now, if only she could get a little closer. Was he asking her to dance? Amunet wasn’t going to take his hand because he wanted her to, and if anything, she could possibly use him to dance a little closer to that woman. That is, if he had actually been asking her to dance. Her eyes narrowed for a second, watching the other move past people melting like butter at her entrance. This immediately led her to believe that it wasn’t going to be so easy to get close to her, not without being blocked like the Guards block the entrance to Buckingham Palace. Fine. She’ll dance, but only for her benefit. With a small scoff, mostly too quiet to hear, she snatched at ‘Michael’s hand and rested her hand upon his shoulder, pinching it as if to get him to jump start into
The Egyptian: action. “I’ll lead.” She grumbled, bringing herself a little too close to him. She was about to take the first step, when she realized that there hadn’t been any music to dance to, but a miracle was in the works, and suddenly and ambient tune echoed through the Temple. Now was her time to move, or else she’d miss the glimpse of her target. Amunet knew she wouldn’t be able to get her at an event like this, and was going to have to get a little more personal in this mission. All of sudden, her trust in regards to Craig, was brought into question, but that was an entirely different subject. Tora was on the move and they were steady going nowhere…
The Russian: Finally entering the area, Nikolai looked left and right, crowds of rich, posh like people were of course the scene. The suited man got many looks, mostly security detail. Finally entering the wonderful place that seemed to be one of the highest standing placing of the Beijing culture, he’d search for the person he was supposed to meet. Thailand, that was his next stop, asking questions, and maybe a kill or two if he needed to. Honestly, he’d thought looking for Carmen Sandiego would be easier at this point instead of his lo- what? Love?... Yeah, love. Cypher was on time, and he was dressed in almost the same attire. They went by tie colors to show ranking in the organization he had worked for. Cypher must’ve been big, he wore a red tie, as for Nikolai?; Black. A small shake of the hand would be the transfer of the message, Nikolai looked left, and then right. The dance floor, just a simple spot which he’s pay attention to if need be. Now back to Cypher. “My condolences... sir.” -
The Russian: Cypher had spoken, Nikolai tilting his head before looking away, then back, Cypher, disappeared. “What..?” Nikolai had spoke before opening his hand, a note inside of it, crumbled up and tattered from what seemed to be blood stains on the side of it. He’d question this later, but for now, he’d place said note inside of his jacket pocket. Looking back to the dance floor, and staying silent, he’d focus his walk around it, mingling time, getting asked questions, ladies asking for his name. “Aleks...” Nikolai said, keeping his cover before going to find something to drink.(e)
The Cellist: There was the glimpse of blonde hair, a striking figure, and this of course, had Tora a little curious. Was she an American? She noticed that not a lot of American’s flocked here to begin with, but on a second glance she was sure that the woman was anything but a Westerner. Her eyes fixed themselves on the figure of the woman coming into view for a brief moment, “Ah, there’s a pretty face…” She whispered to herself, “I knew you’d be here eventually.” Tora was waiting for the woman to make eye contact with her, and as soon as her little wish was granted, she made sure that Amunet read a certain underlying challenge held within her gaze. She parted her lips to mouth the phrase, ‘Catch me if you can…’ before turning her back to Amunet and disappearing into the crowd.
-Kyle’s hand would grasp Amunet’s as she led him; he smirked at her and spoke. “You know, this place is out of your league…This is up on my tier…” ‘She could feel my lean in closer, exchanging of scent while I afford her cover to search for her target.’ “These people can make you disappear and not in a good way…This isn’t just a one man show…There’s at least sixteen other benefactors present here tonight and-…” ‘I lead her into a twirl traditional of colonial dancing.’ “…You’re in the heart of a spider’s web tugging on strings…” ‘I stop the dance in the middle of it; I bring my hand to her cheek and attempt to force her attention.’ “ Don’t get yourself into trouble here. And be careful.“ ‘My hand drops from her and I step back from her, tipping my hat I say. “Thank you for the dance, but I have other arrangements.” <c>
I turn and spot a strange fellow; a giant of some proportion pocketing a letter, I catch his appearance and make an approach. He’s a large man, timber in appearance. I stop short of him and glance up at him. “All dressed up and no one to court? Michael Harrisburg.” I extend my hand offering to exchange greetings with him. You might wonder why I wouldn’t be afraid of such man, truthfully; he’s only a giant and it only takes six inches of steel to bring a giant down to his knees, and perhaps that overly apparent look of being from the North of Asia, a German and a Russian. Historically allies before enemies, an interesting fact that I took note. I don’t like when stereotypes are placed upon me for my heritage, so I would not place such narrow minded thought onto this man, whom I do not know…yet.’
The Egyptian: He thought she’d make enough noise to be noticed? Hardly. All she needed was one good look, a glance, a threat that would speak volumes to the other. She planned on taking The Cellist down, and she wouldn’t be leaving China until she saw to that task on her own. She made it a point not to react to every single thing he had been doing that would have otherwise gotten him in a line of direct retaliation, had she been anyone else. She figured that she’d listen to his words, but her attention would remain, searching in that direction for the vanishing woman. The dance was over and thankfully, the interaction was as well. It was cute that he called this place ‘my tier’ when he only knew so much about her. But, to brag about credentials was a fools game. She moved from him at the same time in which he did the same from her, traveling towards the ‘bar’ to have herself a small drink. This couldn’t have been all the night had to offer, was it? A dress, a glimpse and a terrible dance? It could
The Egyptian: have been worse...
The Russian: Vodka, two rocks. As always, that was what was in Nikolai’s left hand at the moment before he’d glance towards what seemed to be a male, questioning towards him about the poor situation of him having no one to court. He had one, didn’t he? Was she here? No, then that was the end of that. Quick, sly answer from the male as always, giving off the impression that the man still had a mind. “I just don’t wish it, ‘least your dance was well played. Aleks Makarov.” Nikolai said, polite smile before taking that man’s right hand into his left. Of course, he’d meet someone else that seemed to be level headed as the male himself, but then again, that was only what it seemed. Other things seeming would be that of how he danced with a previous target, Amunet. Nikolai was smart enough to not even recognize the female, ‘least to the male, which might tip him off of something coming into play. “What brings you here for the amazement which lies in The Temple?”-
The Russian: Nikolai tried to play it off clean, which he was able to do pretty well. Though, A Russian and a German talking was already like pulling teeth with one another, not going to mention the past of Mr. Reznikov had in his arsenal.
The Operative: Daniel had been keeping to the background, something he was good at, there was no fancy suit, simply a waiters outfit, complete with a faux professional smile and the occasional. "May I offer you a drink?" Before placing a tray in front of the guests. People remembered the man that showed up in a tailor made suit and struck up a charming conversation about art or philosphy, however, no one remembered the waiters, they were the help simply there to make the guests more comfortable, to neither be seen or heard. It was the perfect cover for recon, no one wondered why the waiter was standing so close to the bar, or mingling through the crowds with his eyes on everyone. A drink needed to be filled, an order needed to be made, the best disguise, he'd found, was the one that everyone assumed was too ridiculous to try. Amunet Ebonee, a blond bombshell that carried as much poise as she did skill. He had read, reread and picked through the dossier with a fine toothed comb. -c-
The Operative: His orders were simple. "Send a message." Daniel had always thought a hole through the head in a crowded place was message enough, anyone who needed to be paying attention was and it was proof that you could reach out and touch your enemies any time and any place, however, this employer was all about the theatrical, too many Mafia movies he supposed, still he had a job to do a certain way to do it and it would require a bit of recon to get it done. "Do you need another drink madame?" The elderly woman placed her empty glass on his tray and made her request with a roll of her eyes. Daniel smiled politely before moving to the bar, taking the empty glasses and placing them in the appropriate bin before turning to the bar tender. "Two Martini's, dirty, a Johnny Walker black, neat and a Scotch on the rocks." He hadn't missed his target standing less than four feet away, but he could listen without looking. -e-
-He smiled charmingly adjusting his hat to slide back some and reveal his forehead.”Thank you. She is quite the catch, isn’t she? In America, we have a lot of pretty girls, none like her back home…I’m here looking to get out of trouble.” ‘My tone was dead sober as my eyes scanned the room before switching back to him, my blue eyes staring into his eyes only to smirk.- “Women. You go home after a long day of work only for them to complain about you not fixing the garage door, taking your kid to the soccer game, and helping them with their homework…I’ll tell ya, as men. We didn’t sign up for this.” ‘I glimpse back towards the crowd of people and then place my hands on my hips.’ “Welp. It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Marakov, but I must be on my way. Cheers.” ‘I give him a genuine smile before stepping into the crowd adjusting my hat in the process.’ <c>
‘Stepping out of The Temple and through the security I get a gut feeling that the Egyptian isn’t going to listen to me, I take up a position across the street, going to the second floor stairwell, I get a good view of the building. I slip out of my pocket the phone that allows me to view the security footage. I begin flipping through the guests using the facial recognition of the cameras and the order’s database. Their extensive knowledge seem limitless and I often wondered how big this group was and how many people were feeding them intelligence. If I didn’t already suffer from mild paranoia, I would wonder how much of my personal life they knew. I think for a moment before I realize that there were only two things I had left for me that no one knew about. I smirk and continue searching.’
The Egyptian: With her eyes directed elsewhere, giving up the search for the woman who had sent her a wordless challenge, she had to make up for the small amount of time in which all of her senses had been distracted. The scent of The German, the sight of The Cellist, the feel of warm hands, the sound of music and the taste of the small piece of caramel she had been sucking on the entire time. With everything finally settling down, she moved through the crowd to find the back exit within the place, leading to a parking lot in which an unmarked vehicle had just sped off. No doubt, that had been her target. With a look like the one given to her by the female, she wondered for a moment, why she would even run. Though, the answer was simple; Playtime. This was a woman who was good at killing people. She was good at stripping them of all defenses before bringing them to their knees, where she would finally decapitate them and place their heads on stakes. Thoughts that would sooner make a man sober up
The Egyptian: only excited Amunet. She enjoyed the hunt as much as she did the initial stripping of a person’s social status. The Cellist would become just another delicious morsel in a pie she didn’t bake. The more difficult the target, the more extravagant her finale would be. She remembered, though, that with every target she claimed, there was someone claiming her. She knew all too well that she wasn’t free of an enemy’s grasp, even if their initial aim had nothing to do with her. If and when the monster decided to show itself, she would be willing to fight him, “Shit…” She shook her head as she watched the tail lights of that unmarked car, grow to be dimmer, the further it drove on…
The Operative: mDaniel kept his eyes on Amunet as much as possible while remaining covert, noticing her moving to the parking lot, he changed course, placing the tray on the edge of the bar as he stepped into the kitchen. He had precious little time to act, and so he began undressing as he moved, heading out the back exit he disposed of his vest and waiters shirt in the nearby trash recipticle and grabbed his backpack, this had been his exit strategy from the moment he assumed the role as an employee, considering the flow traffic in and out of the event it made for easy planning. He had been casing the place since he arrived, and immediately began his route to the roof, tossing the backpack on his shoulders he made value of a few keey footholes, scaling his way to the roof. Once there he sprinted to his vantage point, removing his Nikon D3200 camera equipped with a Canon Zoom Telephoto EF 100-300MM lense. He brought the vision port to his eye, and found her, before detecting her line of sight and
The Operative: following it as best he could. Nothing stuck out too him, but she was definitely looking for something, perhaps a target of her own. Bringing the camera to focus on Amunet once more, he snapped a few photos, luckily the parking lot was well lit, so the use of a flash was unneccisary. He'd use the photo's to confirm what he already knew, this was his target. Returning to the guise of waiter was too risky at this point, so he was stuck, holding his position until an opportunity to follow presented itself. "Gotcha, darling."
