#para mathias

[jakob-muller]

The sun had disappeared behind the skyscrapers a while ago already, but here in Brooklyn's more modest heights you could still see it peaking through the buildings to blind you. His sunglasses had gone from his collar to his nose. Charles hadn't tagged along this time. Jakob didn't trust that it would be a good idea to have him meet with a puppy. The opposite was just as true.

It wasn't Jakob's first time meeting after work with Mathias, although they had usually met after doing business together rather than with a day at the zoo behind him.

Climbing up the stairs, the young man took a moment changing the names on the mailboxes first safe for *two* names which everyone would be quick to blame. Sorry Matty.

Long, annoying, repeated pressures on the bell sure ought to make Mathias aware of his arrival. Shit eating grin plastered on his face, he had however a cardboard box from the bakery in his hands to make up for it.

@intxication​

[ibrahim-ziani]

Closed starter for @intxication & @lcnatic

Earpiece on, he waited alongside the two hitmen. Ibrahim was no stranger to working with either of them, although it had always been one at a time. Now who knew whether the problem laid with these guys or with Ibrahim, but they had never quite managed to really get along (not that he made it his goal to befriend every trained assassins).

He waited, for the other group to give them full clearance. There was no attempting to get into the vault without Jin getting them rid of the cameras. No traces left behind, the bosses had been more than impactful on the matter, and so here they were, still clad in black from head to toe, with close to no inches of skin to be seen. Ghosts, nightmares, monsters,  ready to claim their share of the spoils. Straightening up, he checked the chamber on last time. The hand gun had been traded with a MP5, and while he didn’t dread too much about using it, he had no doubt that the security by the vault wouldn’t hesitate to shoot back, should they miss their .

Breaking the silence, there was a voice, at last, in his ear, in their ears.

“Alright, gasmasks on guys. Tis’ show time,” and with those words, he adjusted it over the mask, ready to move. Although the place was too clean, too pristine, to be anything like the battle fields he had been on, this evening had a hint of nostalgia to it. He had done this before, for the U.S. Army. His allegiance was a bit changed, although for him, it was all the same. People protecting their beef.