Hi guys,,, it's Hamburge! I know a lot of you probably won't see this; most of you who do won't care and that's fair. I know a lot of us left on a bad note and maybe you just want to forget everything, but if you don't I'd love to talk! I miss you guys and tbh I've wanted to reconnect for a long time. You can find me on my new fb account (Hamburge Spacebae) and feel free to friend me! I don't care if we fought or if you hated me or if we were the bestest of friends; if you want to reconnect then I'm always right here. I hope all of you are well <3
CHARLIE: It seemed just about any normal night in the streets of the city. For Charlie, it was pretty normal too. At least that's how it looked like.
She wore a black leather jacket covering her black shirt, a pair of black jeans, ankle boots, and medium sized messenger bag. She had a headset on and to passersby she would look like a normal girl just on her way home, with music blasting through her ears. What they didn't know is concealed in her black messenger bag was tonight's weapon of choice, a Beretta Px4 that's locked and loaded. The so-called music playing through her ears were instructions, telling her which corner to turn, which street to go to. Until her eyes finally find the target.
Without hesitation and fear, she continued to follow the man until they ended up in an isolated location. She unzipped her bag and felt the gun slip perfectly between her fingers. In one fluid motion she knocked him down on the ground and aimed the gun to his head. To her surprise it was a familiar face. "Alessandro?" she whispered, her expression puzzled. She was so sure she tagged the right guy - a /different/ guy- earlier today...
She leaned down and felt his pocket. Sure enough, the tracking device was there. She cursed, "Damn it."
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ALESSANDRO: the night made the city a hell of darkness when I left the bar and decided to walk to the building where I rent a small apartment, streets were not crowded as other cities were and I felt like I was walking alone
I started to think of the woman who approached me in the bar and we made out together, but I felt that something was wrong so I wondered if she wanted to get something from me or to do something, in the end I decided to let these thoughts get out of my mind not to think much.
when I turned to use a shortcut I felt a kick that made me fall on the ground "fuck it" I couldn't resist or use my power -what the hell I drank in the bar- I asked myself before my eyes fell on a familiar face and in moments I spoke Charlie Parker !
I found her gun was aiming at my head so I took a deep breath and looked deeply into her eyes when she was checking the tracker in my pocket "before finishing your task, tell me who sent you to kill me" I raised my eyebrow and didn't resist her action as my hands were still by my side on the ground
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CHARLIE: Charlie scoffed at his words. I guess some things never change, she thought. "You're not my target," she said as she switched her gun's safety on. She tucked it back in and held out a hand to help him up. Once the man was back on his feet, she frowned and looked around the alleyway. "Did you bump into anyone on your way here?"
She shook her head and sighed. She just couldn't believe she lost her target. How had he outsmarted her? Much more, why was Alessandro here? Coincidence, perhaps, but her gut told her something was off.
YZZA: Cameras. Huge crowd. International Designers. Magazine editors. Everyone was excited for the big event of the night. A Fall Collection for the Fashion Week was the theme. Yzzavelle will be the last model who will walk the runway. The director gave all the commands for the models and the dancers for the fashion week.
"Gather up, ladies!" Direk Torralba called up for the models who will participate. Yzza and the others formed a big circle that surrounds the director.
"Okay. I assume that everyone knows what they will do. Yzzavelle, you will the last person to walk the runway, the staff will cue you immediately after Sophie. I want you to standout, are we clear?" he asked everyone especially Yzza. She simply nodded on him as her answer. Her hands were still shaky even though she has been into different runway activities. It was the biggest even she had so far, aside from modeling Alexander McQueen's designs.
Sophie, her one of her close friend in the fashion industry went towards her, smiling. "Good luck, Yzza! Break a leg!"
The background music started and it was the sign that the event has already began.
'This is it, Yzza. Go break a leg.' she told herself in her mind.
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CHARLIE: Charlie wasn't in the best mood. She already hated it when Ingrid, the agency's resident makeup artist and stylist, pampered her up for a job. This was worse. A whole lot worse.
"Is this really necessary," she didn't care if her boss didn't like it when she asked these questions or complained. Mr. Galerkin looked thoughtfully at Charlie, and his eyes gleamed teasingly, which made Charlie clench her fist. "Don't worry, my dear. Once you find out which of the models have what our client is looking for, extraction and expiration will be easy as pie." The car stopped and the door was opened for Charlie. "Enjoy the catwalk, Mira. I'll be watching," Mr. Galerkin bid his farewell as she got out of the vehicle. It drove off, and she was led into the backstage.
"That woman over there will take care of your makeup. And the other people, especially Chandler, will help you get to your clothes switching easy breezy," the man gestured his hands around the chaos. She nods at the man's words, just as she was pulled by a different person toward the mirror. "All right, let's prep you up, miss-" "Mira," Charlie said.
"Yes, yes. Mira, the new girl." The woman clapped her hands together and began to do her job, fixing up Charlie's hair and makeup. Her brown locks were moisturized and styled, her face was painted beautifully with the makeup, and done. Charlie sucked a sharp breath as she saw herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. "I-" "Chandler! Get Mira her clothes. Now!" She was dragged off the seat as the next person to be pampered by the make up artist took Charlie's place earlier.
After what felt like the worst hour of Charlie's life had ended, well she was wrong. The show was about to start and the already chaos had grown messier than ever. "All right, places everyone!" The stage director said as the models began to line up. Charlie took her place and felt so annoyed she had to put up with this. She just wanted to kill everyone and be done with it. But no. She sighed, and the show began.
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YZZA: The show has already began, the crowd applaud to the models who went up to the catwalk.Third to the last model who will walk she noticed a new face in the group.It was not necessarily to fall in line at the backstage, the staff knew who or what to do next after the model.
Due to her curiosity, Yzza went to her position and approached the new model in their group.
"Hi!" she beamed and greeted the girl who caught her wild curiosity.
"I'm Yzza." she extends her hand to offer a hand shake."I think you're new, I haven't seen you during the rehearsals."
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CHARLIE: "Yes, this would be my first," she smiled rather shyly to the woman that approached her. Charlie took the other's hand and shook it gently before pulling away. "But it's almost my turn anyway, so off I go." She winked at the woman before she took her cue and strutted her way into the catwalk. Well- posture and facial expression emanated from her, but deep in her thoughts she wanted to strangle somebody. The heels were a tad too killer for her taste and feet, and her dress barely gave her room to breathe. It would be a miracle if she makes it backstage conscious.
And she did so. The relief she felt was something she couldn't conceal, and she thought it wouldn't be suspicious of her at all. Most backstage personnel were busy attending to the models, pampering them and leading them to their cue. Charlie took the moment to scan the room for the unknown model that approached her before her turn. It would've been difficult to spot anyone in this unruly mess if you didn't have the trained eyes of an assassin. But Charlie was an assassin, and her eyes were very well trained.
When she didn't find the model, she decided to glance at the TV screen which previewed the fashion show outside. There she sees the stranger's face, beautiful and elegant as she ended the show.
ALTAIR: Being an experienced hacker had its benefits, particularly for one as clever and cautious as Altair. He'd always been skilled at reading people, and organizations, figuring out their weaknesses and flaws. Meaning he could easily uncover how to hack them as a result. Whether it was hacking into a person's social media life, or infiltrating a protected database, there weren't very many limits on what he could manage to accomplish. Nor to what he could discover, with the help of acquiring necessary information. Which, for him, also wasn't very difficult.
And because of these skills, Altair had ways of finding almost anything, and nearly everything he needed to live the life he led. He would computationally follow the work of other criminals, or criminal organizations, but only if they'd caught his attention somehow. If they seemed to be as skilled and careful as he was, he'd occasionally seek them out, hoping he could work with them. After all, he did need money to survive in the world like everybody else. But he never thought himself to be good at anything besides what he did now. Hacking, breaking into places, stealing things... This life was all he knew, and where he excelled the best. Besides, if ever he had a chance to turn his life around, by now he'd assumed it was too late. That he missed his chance for that long ago.
Plus, in some ways Altair loved this life. There was hardly ever a dull moment with it, but always that sense of excitement and impending danger instead. As far as he was concerned, it was certainly better than living an ordinary, boring life like what most other people lived. And since he did in fact enjoy his criminal life, he was exceptional at what he did, and would sometimes gain attention for work when he hadn't even been looking. Either because of whoever's work he'd been following catching onto him, or simply by being recognized for his previous work. Luckily no one had turned him in to the police yet, and the few people who had been clever enough to connect the hidden dots in his crimes were trustworthy. For him at least; so far.
Most recently, Altair had heard word of an organization called 'Anonymous', during his searches. An agency which would recruit assassins, therefore one Altair didn't have much interest in at first. Killing people wasn't something he condoned, unless the person deserved what was coming to them. Aborting his original plan of following their work, he'd soon afterwards been discovered by them instead. Impressively so, considering the fact that he was always as careful as possible. However, thankfully all they seemed to want when they'd contacted him, was to offer him a job. They were impressed by his skill, and requested his skill-set for a mission of theirs. What kind of mission, they failed to divulge. They'd merely told him one day, after he'd agreed, to meet with one of their agents who was waiting outside of Altair's apartment building. Although it unsettled him quite a bit, to know they'd found out where he lived... All he could do was hope for the best, as he made his way outside to meet the unknown agent.
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CHARLIE: "Frederich Malcolm. Does the name ring a bell?" Charlie shook her head at her boss's words. In the steel cold room of his, Mr. Galerkin had called out 738 to brief her of her new assignment. With a grin that looked more like a grimace, Galerkin continued, "Of course not. He was known as Edward Paul to our client. I warned him Edward shouldn't be trusted." He shook his head in distaste whilst he lit a cigarette. Charlie remained standing, her eyes following her boss. He went to his table and took the first folder at the top. He sat on his desk and flicked through the contents of the file, and smoked his cigar. "He's an NSA agent sent to spy on our client. When our client found out, it was too late; Malcolm had escaped." Charlie had a feeling she knew where this conversation was going.
The man snapped the folder shut and placed it back on his desk. Charlie straightened her posture as the man walked toward her. He towered over her in what should've frightened her, but she was used to the man's intimidating aura. She remained passive and undeterred, awaiting her orders. "Malcolm escaped with evidence which will incriminate our client. In short, he's not happy. And we don't like unhappy customers now, do we, 738?"
"No sir."
"Good. We have two tasks for you." Mr. Galerkin pulled out a small remote from his pocket and clicked a button, revealing a holographic screen. "Altair Naseer. We need his skills on this. The two of you shall intercept the package Malcolm had taken. As an NSA agent, he's most likely heavily encrypted the evidence. Even our best hackers are...not the best." He sounded genuinely displeased as he huffed a smoke off his cigarette. Charlie took the gesture that it was not time to speak yet. "Malcolm managed to contact his handler, a skilled man in disabling those that threaten him and Malcolm. That's where you come in," he gestures his cigarette holding hand to Charlie. "You are surely better than him," Mr. Galerkin smirked in evil satisfaction.
"They are on their way to the nearest CIA safe house to deliver the evidence securely. That gives us 48 hours tops for interception." Mr. Galerkin hands a seemingly normal iPhone 6 to her. "All the information you need is there, including where to find your partner." The phone oddly weighed heavily on her hands. Must be my imagination, she thought.
"Now off you go, dear. Clock's ticking."
Charlie nods and takes her cue to leave.
---
Charlie stood outside Altair's apartment, looking around the neighborhood rather suspiciously. She can't help it; it's her second nature. Today she wore her hair in a loose ponytail, a blue blouse covered by her blazer, a pair of black jeans, and black leather ankle boots. It was a rather chilly day, so her hands remained in her blazer's pockets.
Soon enough, a figure appears from the apartment. She recognize his face from the photograph she was shown. Without missing a beat she approached the man and asked politely, "Altair Naseer?"
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ALTAIR: Upon exiting the apartment building, Altair was once again taken a bit aback, this time due to hearing his name from the unknown agent. Of course the agency would know his name, since they had also figured out where he lived. But the whole situation still made him nervous to think about. Would they turn him in to the police if he decided against helping them? Right now he didn't think he would, but if his assistance meant someone would be killed... He wasn't sure if he wanted that on his conscience. The blood that would be on his hands just as much as theirs. Of course he needed the money, but, was that really a good enough reason to cost someone else their life?
Realizing that he hadn't answered the woman yet, Altair had been brought back into reality, gently nodding just before he had finally responded. "Yeah that's me." He answered, turning around to close the building's front door behind him afterwards. That sense of nervousness he often tended to feel while in front of other people came rushing back, settling into the pit of his stomach. With a deep but quiet breath, he turned back around to face the unknown woman before him. Although his eyes had mostly avoided hers at first, typically of his usual nervous habits around other people. Especially those he didn't know.
Normally, Altair would dress more casually, as opposed to what he'd chosen to don for today. Considering the company he'd be in today, he had chosen to wear something more formal than usual. Although nothing very extravagant nor over the top. Just a black leather jacket, a button down shirt which was light blue, black slacks and boots which were also black. Though he did of course also have his backpack strapped to his back, which contained things he would likely need for missions such as this one. In other words, his attire today was formal in comparison to his usual, but was still at least a bit casual. Yet he'd hoped to appear professional enough, since he wanted to be taken seriously by this company. The people he would usually work with weren't quite as mysterious or as intimidating, or else he would've dressed more casual as he often did. But he didn't mind wearing something different on occasion.
Altair's dark green eyes had eventually found their way onto the unnamed woman's eyes, just before he'd cautiously moved to step around her. He didn't care for the position he'd been in before, feeling as if he was trapped and vulnerable. Which he technically still was anyway, considering the situation. Still, he wanted to feel at least somewhat safe, and felt he could achieve that by putting a little distance between the two of them. "So do I get to know any details, or is this a 'no questions asked' thing?" He asked after taking a few steps away from her, just before turning around upon the heels of his boots. To face the woman once again. His hands slightly lifted to gently grip onto the middle parts of his backpack's straps, another nervous habit of his when around someone he didn't know.
"I mean, you could tell me, and I wouldn't repeat anything to anyone..." Altair stated as his gaze was lifted to lock onto her, intently watching her as he awaited a response. And his words were completely sincere, which was clearly evident within his tone of voice. Nervousness was the only thing that had caused his words to trail off, as the whole situation continued to make him feel uneasy. Surely one couldn't blame him though, considering the fact that this organization was full of assassins. One of which was whom he stood before in that very moment.
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CHARLIE: "I'll tell you the same things they told me, which is not much." Charlie forced a smile in hopes of easing the tension she felt between them. She doesn't blame him though. In their line of work, being cautious and alert was necessary. One wrong move can cost them their lives.
With a nod, she said, "Follow me." She made her way to the blue Ford. It was nothing fancy nor eye catching. The car reminded her of herself, in a way that she didn't stand out from a crowd, the same way they won't be noticed or suspected of once they catch up with their target. She pressed a button from the car's remote and the doors unlock. "Hop in. I'll fill you in the details along the way. We have a long ride, and little time to catch up with them," she spoke simply before making her way to driver seat.
Once she was settled in, Charlie plugged in the keys and started the car. She waited for her partner to settle himself before she began to drive.
"We're going after 2 people working for the NSA. They have something on the agency's client. You'll retrieve the information and corrupt their copy of the files. If all goes well, I won't do much. But if they catch us before the retrieval's done, that's when I come in the picture." Her voice was not far off its usual monotone. The thing she'd learned best from the agency was how to keep her emotions aside. They do nothing but cloud judgment, something they taught her to avoid.
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ALTAIR: Surprised to hear that she would grant his request, Altair shifted his focus onto her for a moment. The still unnamed woman was an assassin, of all things, so he wasn't at all expecting her to be as kind as she seemed. Having always assumed that assassins had to have been heartless, he never expected to meet one who seemed like the opposite. At least from what he'd seen thus far - and then again, the man had never actually met an assassin until now. Therefore he had nothing else with which he could compare this encounter.
Looking at her in silent disbelief still, Altair's gaze hadn't yet left hers, but eventually shifted back in front of him as a moment of silence fell. He glanced down to the floorboard underneath his shoes, and wondered how this mission would go. Part of him kept fearing the worst, as a bad habit, worrying that even if he succeeded with his part of the job that he'd be killed afterwards. This was an agency known for recruiting assassins, and one that can surely find another skilled hacker besides Altair... So what would stop them from killing him? Did he know too much for them to let him live after this? Swallowing hard, he couldn't help feeling a sense of nervousness all over again. And hearing her speak in what sounded like Russian didn't help him feel any better. Paranoia began to get the better of him, regardless of how hard he tried to keep that from happening.
"You're... not gonna kill me after I do this... Are you?" Altair asked, and surprisingly managed to keep a mostly calm tone of voice. His only hope was relying on the kindness that this woman seemed to have, but he wasn't sure if that was enough. If he should trust her with such a thing; or if she'd simply kill him anyway as part of her job. That would explain why she was being nice to him. Bringing his eyes back onto hers once more, he quietly took a deep breath to calm himself back down. "I mean, I don't even know your name. I won't tell anybody about this, so you don't have to, you know..." He added, with the unsettled feeling still plaguing him. But he was hoping that he could talk her out of killing him tonight. If that really was part of her plan, rather than just his paranoia.
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CHARLIE: Charlie felt his eyes on her. She could tell he was not used to this kind of setup. She wanted to tell him she'd been doing this all her life yet she never still felt comfortable with any of it. Not that she'd tell him or anyone else for that matter. They were trained to be silent, deadly, and heartless. The latter part she constantly struggles with; she doesn't know how much longer she could play charades with the agency. But she always fooled them. And that's because she always fooled herself. Telling herself lies that she will escape this hell.
'And where exactly are you now, huh?' She thought to herself, as she ends up gripping the steering wheel tightly only to loosen them as well. 'Focus, Charlie, focus.'
Altair’s question wasn’t unusual at all. She’d collaborated with non-agency contractors before who had asked the same thing. She usually ignored them in her first years of work, which for her was a big ‘I don’t know’ but the result is usually the contractor would try to escape from her and force her hand. So recently she’d tried a different approach, which garnered a more positive response except for the common doubtful, terrified glances she’d get from them. She didn’t mind that.
“That’s up to you,” she answered vaguely, her voice not losing its dull and boring tune.
“...I don’t even know your name...” that specific part of the words that followed his question brought a small smile to her face, that she quickly replaced with her poker face. “Just Charlie, is all you need to know,” she said until she slowed her driving. She took a turn to the right, parking the car in the small parking lot of a beatup motel. There was another vehicle present in this isolated area and it had an uncanny match to the leaked information they received. “We’re here.”
Charlie turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. She turned to her companion. “Relax. We don’t want to catch the attention of the handler.” She grabbed her Browning pistol and checked the load before snapping it in place. She tucked it in her coat and got out of the car, her eyes looking into the motel.
