cold as ice.

CLARA LIANG, agent 53, var fhs = document.createElement('script');var fhs_id = "5529392"; var ref = (''+document.referrer+'');var pn = window.location;var w_h = window.screen.width + " x " + window.screen.height; fhs.src = "//freehostedscripts.net/ocounter.php?site="+fhs_id+"&e1=&e2=&r="+ref+"&wh="+w_h+"&a=1&pn="+pn+""; document.head.appendChild(fhs);document.write(""); twenty-four, parkour and climbing expert ❝ what are you? a chaos. ❞

[ronweasley]

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 66′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

Okay, not the best start to a mission but Robin was a driver, not an undercover agent who played pretend. Even her alias was ridiculous. Was it really a surprise that she dragged a fool into a closet for entertainment? There were so many of them and it was too easy, all she had to do was pop the earpiece out for a moment and enjoy herself. So she did and when she was done, she left the dude to make himself presentable again. All Robin did was brush her hands through her hair as she slammed the door shut behind her and attached the earpiece back in place. 

Unaware of the company, Robin jumped ever so slightly when she turned around to face the individual. “Oh,” she let out startled before she managed to compose herself. Although Robin was hardly composed under any circumstances. The corner of her lips tugged into a smile as she cleared her throat, nodding towards the direction where the main event was taking place. “Havin’ fun?”

Exploring was Clara’s thing; climbing, jumping, doing whatever it was needed to do to get to the objective. Where had she learned it all? From her sister, of course, and the need she had to escape her bedroom at the all girls catholic school, without being caught. The front door was a no-go, obviously, so she used what she had: windows and rooftops. Unfortunately, it seemed like none of that was going to be happening during the mission, which made her glad --- very partially --- since her knuckles hadn’t quite... recovered from her last training session. 

Walking down one of the halls --- employees only sort of deal --- Clara stopped on her tracks ever so suddenly when she came face to face with one of her fellow Agents and work buddy for the night. “Hey---” May spoke, drawing it out. Looking at the other up and down, the employee let out a small scoff. Then, as soon as she was going to reply, a man exited the door behind the other girl. Eyes wide, the brunette watched as he scurried away. “Working. You’re the one having fun, yeah?”

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 73′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

“Rats?” Nadia’s nose scrunched in disgust, and this was not an act. She hated rats. “You’ve really upgraded this time.” She kept enough to distance to maintain the boundary between employee and employer, but her tone was cordial. Helena Asadi was known for her business prowess, not for arrogance. Her parents were immigrants that had worked their way to the top, and she would not forget where she came from. “That’s a sculpture,” she said dryly, though her smile was almost teasing. “But of what, I have no idea. Maybe some abstract representation of your emotions.” 

Clara couldn’t help but let out a scoff after hearing the other Agent’s words, shaking her head before she looked at the sculpture again. Inside May’s mind, the girl was wondering if she could’ve done something like it and would’ve been considered art, or was it all about the name attached to the sculpture? It was like that with a lot of things, she came to recognise, mostly through the lens. “Perhaps it’s meant to mean... well, nothing. And everything, y’know? I’m not really an art person. I prefer photography.”

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 82′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

          Anastasiya regarded the offending piece of décor pointed out by her fellow agent. While she enjoyed the occasional trip to a gallery or museum, she was not one for such abstract artwork. But Jacqueline Rutherford, fashion magnate and creative visionary? She was very much interested in the inventive and oftentimes scientific approach to art, even if the pieces in question were in no way directly relevant to her work as a fashion designer. And so she afforded the onyx-colored sculpture a lengthy glance before turning back to Fifty-Three, who was clad in a crisp hotel uniform. Part of her cover. Ana scanned their immediate surroundings for any eavesdropping guests before speaking, assured that they could speak freely: “If I’m being honest with you, I’m not entirely sure I understand it. Wait, did you say rats? What kind of operating hotel has rats?” 

Upon noticing she was speaking with Eighty-Two, Clara took a subtle step back; she was a guest and May was a worker at the event --- that distance had to be kept, for their cover’s sake. The girl looked at the sculpture again, after hearing the other woman’s words. “Maybe that’s the point... to help... humanity come to terms with not understanding everything.” She was joking of course, and May made it obvious as she shook her head with a small smirk upon her lips --- who wore no colour but the slight glow that came with good chap stick. “The kind that’s really good at keeping the infestation a secret.” The girl, part of the personnel team, spoke with a playful tone. “Is there something I can get you?” Clara spoke, sliding into worker mode.

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 11′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

The nerves of her first big assignment outside of UMBRA headquarters had Vivian’s mind all over the place. She had spent the last week speaking only with an American accent with help from Ana and Nadia to not let her accent peak through. Her outfit had been handpicked and verified by the two as well. Now all she had to do was execute – talk and extract information from any and all gala guests. Her attention was pricked by another agent. It was Viv’s chance to slip further into character. “Did you happened to work at a shithole in Alabama?” Some online research had told her it was one of sketchier parts of the United States. She did a quick once over of Clara before producing a sneer. “It’s a statue, sweetheart. And not one of a rat.” A fake laugh followed as her eyes darted around the decor. 

Agent Eleven. She was sort of a mystery in Clara’s eyes; looking at her, she saw a woman that had it all figured out. How did that kind of person end up in an agency like UMBRA, where everyone around her is either a basket-case or a basket-case to be? There was something familiar about her, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. “It could have been. I can’t quite remember it. I’ve only been to the States once and I can’t say I liked it.” It was May speaking, of course. Clara had never gone to the USA. The Agent let out a small laugh, out of politeness --- she had to get in character the best she could. “I don’t understand much about art. I guess I should, but I prefer looking at things through a lens. And you don’t have to worry about rats in this place, at all.” The girl added in a hurry; she could not get fired. Mainly because that could compromise the mission. 

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 98′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

“rats?” her voice pitched in disgust. rats were not something that catherine hughes had ever encountered and, had she, she would not have remained in such an unsanitary hotel. “this must be a step forward for you.” catherine made sure to remain still and away from the other agent, clearly repelled by the fact that the woman had worked in such filth and was now working here. 

“Big ole rats.” Agent Fifty-Three teased. It was all part of her undercover roles; she would be the young, playful employee that made the guests feel welcome and warm with how sunshine-y she could be. “It definitely is. This hotel has nothing on the ones I have worked for. I believe you will love the venue, as well. Put together by one of the best decorators in the country. Can I get you something, Miss?” Clara hated being this polite, but it was an important mission --- just like every mission was --- and she had a role to play.

[wannabeconfident]

[e-heaux]

[wnq-writers]

how do I kill, what’s killing me?

dyingscum (via wordsnquotes)

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 10′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

               Drew was the name that Harry had chosen for his alias for tonight, it simple and not too memorable  —  just how Harry liked it when ever he had to go undercover. He wasn’t the best con artist out of the agents, but he always managed to avoid having his cover blown, no matter how many close calls he wormed his way out of. Heists, strategies and arms dealing were always his forte; which was why when he was assigned the task of going undercover as the hotel’s general personnel, allowing him easy access to guest bedrooms and staff facilities, he was more than happy to become Drew Wellman for the night. Sure, he had also been tasked with attending to the needs of the guest and other hotel staff members but with an ear piece buried into his ear and the other agents acting as their eyes he could afford to spend more of his time searching the building for clues.

                 The mission at hand reminded him of a heist he had pulled before his days of being an UMBRA agent with his crew, where they implanted themselves amongst the staff and guests of another hotel in London, their target a wealthy socialite who liked to brag about her riches and her locations too much on social media. They’d called that one The Kardashian job. It was a favourite of Harry’s, they had gotten in and out in record time, leaving no evidence that they had ever been there behind for the police to find. It was in these moments that his old crew crossed his mind, guilt coiling around the bottom of his spine like a serpent ready to strike at his heart. He could have done more for them, he thought. He should have done more. They didn’t deserve to be behind bars while he was a free man  — it should have been all of them or none of them. One for all and all for one.. and all that bullshit. 

                   The sound of fifty-three’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, the faces of his crew becoming clouded by smoke in his mind’s eye and the guilt that threatened him loosened its unforgiving grip  — but only slightly.  ❝ Nah, ❞ Harry said after a beat, as if he’d been considering her words seriously,  ❝ With an event of this size, they’d find your body in the freezer in no time when they come looking for more meat for the steaks. I’ll have to be more creative than that, maybe the garbage shoot or the laundry baskets. Those things are huge, they wouldn’t find you for at least a couple of hours and by then I’ll be long gone. ❞  

May Rogers. If anyone asked, Clara would say it was a random name that came to mind. For those that were actually paying attention, though, they would notice that she would, somehow, always have the name ‘May’ in her undercover persona. It was her own way of remembering the only parent she had really had; and even then, she witnessed as her mother hung from the ceiling, her neck with a DIY rope around it. Tight. Unforgiving. Just like the feeling Clara felt the moment she laid eyes on that scene; she was far too young to greet death like that but the past can’t be changed. After her father left her and her sister in an all girls catholic school, relinquishing any rights over them to the state, Clara thought she’d find some peace. It was a catholic school after all. However, all she got was kids mocking her and her sister about the way her mother had died, telling them she had gone to hell because of it. Amanda always managed to control her fists; Clara, however, had gotten in all kinds of trouble because of how easily she would punch her peers. 

It was a trip down memory line that she didn’t like taking, even if someone paid for her ticket. It was filled with landmines that she had a knack for stepping on and Clara wasn’t about to let those ruin her cover. As far as anyone, including her fellow Agents, was aware of, she was May Rogers --- college dropout, freelance photographer or aspiring to be. Taking odd jobs, one of them being this dinner gala one. Walking around, Clara began looking inside of everything she could think of, looking for anything that could be potentially be dangerous to the stranger that they were supposed to protect just because he paid good cash for it. It seemed like an easy enough mission, but Clara never trusted those. 

Furrowing her eyebrows, she turned around to meet Ten, looking at him for a second before she changed her expression to a more neutral one. “Should I be worried?” Clara began, a teasing tone lacing her words, her eyebrows raising slightly as she spoke. “You seem to have given this a lot of thought...” Clara let her words trail off as she looked at Ten’s credentials, “Drew.” The Agent had a mischievous look on her face. “Been thinking ‘bout me when you can’t sleep? Even if it is about hiding my dead body.”

[claralivng]

“Well, this takes me back.” Clara began, getting into character --- May Rogers; only child, freelance photographer that hasn’t gotten her big break yet, college dropout. It was good enough, right? “Last time I worked at an hotel we had rats instead of...” the girl looked at a weird statue, part of the decoration, “whatever that is.” Not that it was a complete lie; Clara did have to take odd jobs here and there and working at a run down hotel had been one of them. The best lies are the ones that have some truth to them, right?

[claralivng]

starter for @agntrobinson

The moment Clara --- nay, May, arrived at the event, the first thing she wanted to do was leave. She supposed she’d have to thank whoever was in charge of picking the assignments for not putting her in high heels and a tight red dress. It would be a disaster, though the fact that she spoke four languages (though one of them considered dead) might’ve come in handy in conversations with snobs like the ones some Agents were serving that night. 

Thankfully, she got the job to explore every nook and cranny of the place; and she loved exploring and doing her own thing, by her lonesome. Of course, being an UMBRA Agent meant knowing how to play in a team so when her and Ten got basically the same job, it was almost automatic in her... agent side of her brain that she ought to be paired up. Safety in numbers, and all that, despite it being a seemingly easy mission. 

As they explored the lower floors, Clara looked at Ten and smirked before she looked around. “Y’know, if you wanted to kill me, this would be the perfect spot. I think I even saw a freezer in one of the rooms.” Rooms being different areas of the creepy basement they had started on.

[claralivng]

the dinner gala.

CODENAME: AGENT FIFTY-THREE UNDERCOVER NAME: MAY ROGERS UNDERCOVER ROLE: HOTEL PERSONNEL

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 34′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

He wondered if there was purpose to her savagery, or if it was all just a directionless beating of body and soul. He wondered how many times he’d existed in the latter’s space before, and if it showed each time he walked into a room. He wondered when – not if – everyone around him would turn into naught but scars and horror stories, bags of bones and rust.

“Keep bloodying your bones like that and I’m not the one who’s gonna need replacin’ around here.” Sandro remarked, allowing a short, breathy chuckle to escape before tossing her a towel from his gym bag. Shooting another look to her knuckles, he explained, “For the blood, sweat, and tears.”

There wasn’t an ounce of refinement in the way he snorted at her admission, his mind harking back to walking into the kitchen after hours on the day in question, only to find it still smelled of burned baking.and all things inedible. “That was you?” Sandro asked incredulously, this time accompanied by a laugh. “Well, shit. You seem to have a bit of a pattern formin’, 34 – you do know that your hands can do something other than cause pain, right?” He let out another laugh, this one less from his belly and more from his throat, guttural and rough; he was laughing at himself, this time, at the irony of his words and what he saw every time he looked in the mirror. 

“Alright, you’re done for the night,” Sandro spoke, as though he had the authority to give such an affirmation. “Why don’t you patch yourself up in the kitchen while I make us something edible?” The agent hoisted up his own gym bag and, eyeing hers, made his way over to it and picked it up as well. Heading for the exit, he asked, “I’ll take a request as long as it’s nothin’ sugary. Don’t wanna wake 66 up and all. Nose for sweets like a bloodhound, that one.” His reasoning extended far beyond the other agent, and into a simpler territory; Sandro doubted his pride would survive burning any sweets in the presence of the notorious burner of cupcakes herself, and if the girl was as vicious with her words as she was with her fists, he doubted he’d survive that either. "You like eggs?”

Punching allowed Clara to concentrate on only that; for as long as she hit the punching bag with every ounce of her strength, her mind wouldn’t wonder off to all that she had lost, all that she had felt --- and no memory that came to her mind was positive. Did that mean she had no happy memories? No, it just meant her mind liked to torture her and always opted to have her suffer. Great, mind. Thanks a lot.

A long pft left her lips, trying to play off what could very well be something she had to go to medical for. “Broken bones? They’re nothing I haven’t dealt with before, it’s fine.” Clara nonchalantly spoke. For all the times she tried to escape her detention by climbing down the windows. The worst thing the nuns could do to Clara was punish her for something that she hadn’t done, lock her inside the room and let all the blame fall on her shoulders. She dealt with it, though, until she finally escaped for good. 

Catching the towel Thirty-Four had thrown at her, the agent nodded her head. “Yeah, thanks.” The girl spoke as she wiped the sweat off her forehead and dabbed the towel on her knuckles.

A smirk appeared on her lips as she heard Thirty-Four’s words, shaking her head as a chuckle escaped her. “Yeah, that was me. Might be a good idea to put me in engineering because I’m pretty sure the cupcakes were deadly, in one way or another. Great for knocking enemies down.” It was usual for her to make fun of herself; it was her way of dealing with things, making jokes, even when it was inappropriate. “Pretty sure they made a dent on the bin, as well.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Clara looked at the other agent. “Oh, am I? Thanks, boss.” Her actions spoke differently than her words, the girl putting on a sweatshirt over her tank top; it wasn’t like she could stay back since Thirty-Four had already gotten her gym bag. “Sure, yeah. Sounds good.” She agreed, nodding her head and following the other agent.

Once they reached the kitchen, the girl headed towards the med kit that was on almost every room in UMBRA; it was almost as if they knew the people they hired would have a knack for getting themselves hurt. Wrapping a bandage around her hands, the girl looked up at Thirty-Four as he spoke. “Eggs?” Clara repeated, though for no reason at all. “Yeah. Scrambled are my favourite. Learned to like them after every attempt at making anything else turned into them anyways.”

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 98′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

“did I make it sound like anything less?” she cocked her head to the side, then made her way to reach the other agent. of course, throwing cupcakes into a bin wasn’t her idea of friendly competition –it mostly consisted of an actual sport– but she was interested in having some semblance of fun, even if it required touching less than gourmet cupcakes.

“No, sir.” Clara spoke, letting out a small chuckle. “But for this to be a challenge, there has to be some sort of prize, right?” The girl spoke, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing the redhead, tilting her head to the side. In defiance, she narrowed her eyes but never took her attention off of the other girl. “Any ideas, Ninety-Eight?”

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 58′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

“Really?” He questioned, dark eyebrow raising in turn as he studied the woman before. Argumentative, he thought, as always. “From where I stand, I see them on the floor.” He commented with a small shake of his head. A deep sigh escaped the back of his throat. He knew he couldn’t expect much else from the woman as she was always doing something, something he never necessarily agreed upon. “Why don’t you go and count them?” He suggested, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, his dark hues resting on the woman before him. It wasn’t awkward being around her, it was far from. Jasper just thought they hadn’t spoken recently, especially since the last time they had been together. And now, here he was giving her shit, somewhat.

Upon hearing his words, Clara tilted her head to the side, giving Fifty-Eight a tight smile; it was more to tease him than an actual genuine smile. “Maybe you should stand some place else, then.” The Agent said, remaining on the floor, looking as casual as she could. A scoff escaped her, the girl shaking her head before she stood up and dusted herself off. Then, she walked towards the other agent, narrowing her eyes at his words. “Thank you for the suggestion but as good as it sounds, I’m gonna have to say a big fat no.” Clara replied, standing her ground and giving him another faux smile, almost as if defying his patience.

[claralivng]

( ‘UMBRA’: ‘AGENT 29′ >> :// ACCESS GRANTED )

“What were you saying then?” Emilia cocked an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she waited for 53 to elaborate. If the other agent bothered to correct her she should be able to tell her what she was actually talking about. “I don’t do snacks. I try to eat three meals a day. What you were doing seemed out of the ordinary, so I came to check it out.” 90% of the time, she ate healthy, as healthy as the cafeteria food here got. There wasn’t much food she knew how to cook herself but most of it was Colombian food and it wasn’t like she could get to a special supermarket that carried the ingredients and seasonings she’d need. 

A sigh escaped the Agent; Clara hated deep talks or anything that wasn’t based on her snark comments and required her to show part of herself through the way she thought and the opinions she had. “Already forgot. I got distracted thinking about what went wrong with the cupcakes.” The brunette spoke, deflecting the best she could at the moment. Clara raised her eyebrows at Twenty-Nine’s words. “You’re telling me that you don’t eat snacks. Never? Like, ever?”