When Hunter accepts a job from a personality he feels a strong sense of danger, he gathers information from someone who’s worked with the personality and even gets help from him: Jake Myler.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
Wall post
ALEXANDER
It was raining in New York City, when it was summer. Alexander raised his eyebrows when he realized the raindrop on his office window. He was in the middle of examining all the financial reports of the company when he realized it was raining. Not that he hated rain, he just felt everything turned gloomy lately. After that day.
He heaved a deep sigh as he walked to the window and looked down to the street. This was one of the thing he liked from having the office building in one of the skyscrapers building in the city, he could look down and saw the crowd, what were they doing, or their habits during weekdays. He also could see how clear the sky was, or how bright the sun was from his office. His new office.
This was the first week of his permanent move to New York, all by the force of his lovely mother. Again, he let out a deep sigh. His mind was racing so fast, still in denial about his permanent move to New York. The why and what ifs questions were still racing on his mind but he couldn't find the answer yet. He knew his mother was true, that this was the best thing for Marco, but he still couldn't accept the fact that he and Nathaniel should stay far away from home, from Seattle, from their family, from their cousin.
Alexander looked down to the street. His gaze caught a lot of many things while his mind was floating to somewhere else. The people walking in hurry because of the rain, the yellow cab stopped immediately to get passengers, and many black cars all over the road. 'Why it has to be black?' He remembered he asked the same question to Mario, their butler in Seattle every time his father bought a new car and Mario couldn't answer that. Until that time, when there was a family gathering at Marco's house when he was thirteen.
'Why it has to be black?' He asked the same question when he saw all the cars of the family members, and the one who answered that was his uncle, William Grey I. 'Black is the safest color,' he said, 'It will keep you safe in the darkness. At least they can't see you for a while and you can think about your next move.' He pursed his lips for a slight of that memory, holding his sadness in silence.
That time Alexander thought his uncle was exaggerated. He thought there won't be people out there plotted any harm for his family because they did good things for people, they helped people. He thought that his uncle was just exaggerated, just like his parents. Until that day, few weeks ago.
He still remembered the scream, the pale faces of his family members, and more than that, Marco's reaction. He has failed to protect his family. As the suggestion of his uncle and permission of his father, he has built a security service company together with his trusted friend a year ago, but he never really knew what safety meant for people like them, the elites, until his uncle got shot during giving his speech on Marco's graduation day.
He took a deep breath while throwing his gaze to the gray sky, staring there for a long time as if there was a hidden answer for everything happened there. Something needed to be done, he thought. He walked to the door and talked to his new secretary, Cassandra. "Cancel all my meetings for tomorrow, I will not be here," he said.
He walked to his table and took his phone from his pocket, dialing most trusted friend he ever had. "Dude, let's have a drink. Meet you at the usual place," he said. After that, he took his coat and walked out from his office, to his car with Sergei, his personal bodyguard, off to the usual place he met Mathieu.
HUNTER
Mathieu had taken some time off from Thief Tavern and has left William in charge. He wanted to focus on finishing his second degree, which is Mathematics. He took the degree at the prestigious Oxford University with a full scholarship grant. His exemplary performance in the exam for the said scholarship had garnered him to pay for nothing at all while he studied. All he had to do was keep his grades up, and there they were, soaring in the air.
He was out in Cafe Noir enjoying a steaming cup of French Cappuccino while he continued scribbling his proofs and derivations which were homework due next week. He preferred to finish everything the moment they were assigned. He was almost done, when he felt the vibration from his phone. He took a moment to sip some coffee, before picking it up.
"Greetings." It was Mathieu's default response. Taking a careful listen, he made out the voice to be Alexander Grey, the man he was working for while he studied. His family was also the sponsor of the scholarship, which is how Alex got in touch with Math. He had noted of his smarts, yet despite the business agenda, the two became good friends. "Already beat you to it, mate," he chuckled. "See you soon." The call ends, and he resumes to his mathematical musings.
The more two strangers that participate in the music industry interact, the more dangerous it becomes for one of them. When Hunter stumbled upon a bar where he and Erin performed, there were also some of his enemies that recognized him, placing Erin in danger as well.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
Wall post
ERIN
It was around nine in the evening when her oldest sister Lucina dragged her and Lake to a nearby bar. It was full of buzzing people that were chattering and drinking some alcoholic drinks. She was never a fan of such still, Lucina ordered her a martini.
"Oh, have a little fun, Luella!", it was her sister Lake that gave her an eye roll and a shove. "Here, sing instead". Before Erin could protest, Lake had already pulled her up and was pushing her towards the stage. She shook her head, clearly not wanting attention to herself but at last, the host of the bar introduced her as Lake gave Erin's name.
/Okay, calm down. This is nothing new. Just go sing/, Erin thought as she grabs the mic off its stand and starts singing.
"I walked through the door with you, the air was cold,
But something 'bout it felt like home somehow.
And I left my scarf there at your sister's house,
And you've still got it in your drawer even now."
The people clapped for her, some hoots were heard as she goes down the stage. Just as she reach her sisters, a man stood up and walked towards her. "That was really good", the man said. Erin could only smile and nod at the man.
HUNTER
Bars were commonplace for a guy like him. Musician in the morning, vigilante in the evening. Both jobs had typically revolved in the confines of such. No surprise that he was here again, in a bar with his guitar laid down and tucked away safely in its case. He was in his usual getup of black-colored clothing: shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. His curls scattered all over his head in an orderly mess.
For tonight, he had free time away from his more dangerous lifestyle. He was here to entertain himself with good music. This bar was known for having the perfect setup where talented musicians performed. The place opens its stage for anyone who wished to perform. Open mic, it was called. He might even plan to play, or not. He was unsure, but he brought his guitar just in case.
Once his drink had been served, a cold glass of martini, 2 women had upped the stage. The other one seemed to have been dragged into it. Erin, her name was. He lifted an eyebrow, curious, as he took a sip of his drink and watched the performance. 'Not bad,' he thought.
ERIN
As soon as Erin takes a seat, the people hooted and shouted some names. There was a group of people urging someone to perform next, saying how much they missed him perform and hearing his voice. As Erin take a sip of the martini, she instantly regretted it. She was sure she just made a sour face cause right then, Lucina started laughing.
Rolling her eyes, Erin focused on the man getting up on the stage. He was with his guitar, wearing all things black. From the jacket to the shoes.
Maybe he's EMO.
— That's very judgmental.
What?! Most musicians are going through some kind of emotional stuff. Look at you.
— What about me?
You're a singer and you're depressed. What an example.
Erin rolled her eyes at the thought and watched the man perform instead.
HUNTER
To his surprise, the audience remembered his performance before, which had urged them to call him up the stage. Considering he did bring a guitar today, he supposed the timing was perfect. Hunter took a sip from his martini and got on his way to the stage.
He smiled toward the crowd, who was difficult to view with the light trained right at him. He had to shield his eyes. "Whoa there," he said toward the mic, functioning as both sound test and his reaction to the blinding light. He hopped onto the stool and brought out his guitar, then tuned it accordingly. Once it made the sound he wanted, he got his attention back to the people.
"Good evening, lads and ladies Thank you for this opportunity to grace your evenings with my acoustic performance. Mathieu of CVSTAWAY coming at you with Lost Stars," he winked and began to strum his guitar with an F chord. On cue, he began to sing.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpgq0g18Hj4)
"...I thought I saw you out there crying.
I thought I heard you call my name.
I thought I heard you out there crying.
"But are we all lost stars, trying to light up the dark?" He gives the song a soft, mellow ending and single strum that echoed until it faded out. They received his performance with a hearty applause and a few cheers from the crowd. "Thank you," he grinned and nodded.
ERIN
The song reminded of her Archer, her best friend whom she lost communication to due to.. Erin shook her head, dismissing the thought. Her sisters seem to be having fun, slowly swaying to the music. She turned around, trying to block out the sound and the memories.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She started tapping the counter with her finger.
Tap. "But are we all lost stars". Tap.
Tap. "Trying to light up the dark?". Tap.
The song ended, and there were cheers. Erin couldn't help but clap slowly. It was beautiful. The way he sang it.
And painful. Beautiful. Painful. Beauti-
"Come on, Erin. Let's say hi", what?
Erin was being dragged to where the man is currently seated. "We're just going to say hi cause I heard that that guy - Mathieu - is a part of a really great band". Erin could only nod, maybe it was her fault that she doesn't go out much.
"Where did you heard that?", she asked her sister, Lucina.
"From Lake. She's seen them perform", Lucina shrugged and plastered on a smile as they reach the table.
HUNTER
Hunter finished one last round of sharing his gratitude to the audience before unplugging his guitar and getting off the stage. He put his instrument back in its black casing, and brought it with him toward an empty table. While he was the friendly type, he felt a need to isolate himself from the people. The song he just sang didn't just effect to the audience, it took a toll on his emotions as well.
'Weirdo,' he snickered to himself and shook his head, before ordering a glass of gin. What's a guy to do in a bar if he isn't drinking? 'Making shady negotions, perhaps,' as he saw from his line of sight a couple of men huddle in the far corner of this place. He wiggled his eyebrows curiously, but decided it was not a negotiation he wanted to mess with.
He waited for his drink to be served, and thanked the woman, giving her the payment plus a tip. Hunter took the cold glass and brought it to his lips. The sharp tinge that came with the sip was unmistakeable, what a fine drink this was. He took another sip, and sighed, putting his glass back on the table. His eyes looked around the room, where everyone was enjoying themselves in conversation. From the corner of his eye, he noticed two ladies coming over his way. Squinting his eyes to adjust his vision, he realized it was the same two people who were on the stage earlier.
"Hey," small smile he returned to their smiling faces. He gestured his hand to the one who didn't perform. "You did a pretty good job getting her to take the stage," he wiggled his eyebrows amused, and looked over to Erin. "But you... lovely performance indeed." He smiled and sipped his drink. "Oh, where are my manners. I'm Mathieu," he reached out a hand to the both of them one at a time.
ERIN
Erin could feel that something was wrong. Not some fire or earthquake accidents kind of wrong but still.. wrong. She shook the thought away, next the uneasiness. Erin did not notice that they were already in front of the performer's table since she was busy looking around.
She felt her sister elbow her on the ribs, getting her attention. "Aw", as she frown, she noticed the outstretched hand of the man. At first she didn't know what to do with it. Thank God for Lucina who managed to tell her what /Mathieu/ had said.
Erin quickly shook his hand and said, "Thank you. I'm Erin".
HUNTER
Hunter noticed that the blonde was quite social, while the other a bit withdrawn and shy. The latter's name was Erin, he'd repeated in his mind. "Nice to meet you, Lucina and Erin."He nodded toward the two who seemed to share a bond that surpassed friendship, yet they don't strike him as siblings.
"Can I interest you ladies for a drink? I think not," he chuckled at himself in some sense of shame. Tonight, he was opting for his lesser smooth personality toward women. See, that was the thing with actors. They love acting. Even more so someone like him, who has lived a couple of lives through various cons. Never wrong to practice his skills so they don't get rusty.
ERIN
Lucina answered with a yes where in Erin decided not to have a 'drink', if it meant alcohol of some sort. She was never really a fan of those. They managed to have a seat in front of Mathieu - in which the two engaged in an animated conversation quickly. Erin being Erin, she would only answer the specific questions addressed to her, especially the ones involving music.
A few minutes have passed when some men by the end of the bar stood up and made their way at what seems to be like a back door. She noticed Mathieu's line of sight, following where the men have went before drinking and turning his focus back on his sister.
Erin didn't notice two men standing beside their table - who looked slightly professional with the tux and black pants and yet still looked off. "Hunter, mind if we talk to you for a second", the man with the bushy eyebrows said. Frowning, she looked at their table - there were only three of them. Hunter is??
— I thought his name was Mathieu?
Maybe a second name?, she thought.
Hunter goes undercover in a northern faction of a European-wide terrorist group and finds out that a royalty and close friend of his, Reine, Queen of Greece, would be the one to deal with the repercussions.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
Wall post
HUNTER
Being friends with the queen of Greece had its perks, most of which Hunter didn't use or accept. He had his own way of getting around, a way which he'd prefer over high clearance access to enter the palace and a generous amount of funding.
After being deep in a criminal organization that ran all over Europe, he began to hear rumors of a big job upcoming in Reine's territory. Unwilling to depart the organization without gathering enough intel, Hunter remained in the group under his alias 'Martin Djikstra', a professional conman for the northern faction of the group. After gaining their trust and loyalty, he rose in rank and became the northern faction leader's right hand. Nic, as the leader dubbed himself named, was a talkative little shit, making Hunter's intel gathering much, much easier. The moment he uncovered the terrorist attack planned to be in the palace, he knew his time as Dijkstra had come to an end. He would then fake his death, lay low for a week, before rushing over to Greece to deliver the news personally.
Sneaking back in the palace was fairly easy; it was his security detail plan that was being implemented after all. He knew the ups and flaws of the design he gave to Reine. He made sure that the only copy of this plan was in Reine's belonging, and in his mind, memorized, in case someone decides to use it for demeaning plans.
Hunter had finally reached the door to the balcony. Checking his watch, he knew Reine would be right outside, for she always loved to admire the view. He barged in the door.
"Hey, Queenie. Missed me?" A slight smirk was on his lips before he walked toward her side, then joining her in admiring the view. With the city at the heart of Greece, he couldn't agree more how much a spectacle the view was. Of course, that wasn't what he came here for.
"Sorry to ruin your view but we've got a sitch."
REINE
[Madame, Sir Ivanov requires a formal meeting with you regarding—]
“If it’s about the bloody contract and filthy dealings with our company, then tell him he can eat my dirt,” Reine spoke with gritted teeth. Ever since the construction of one of their hospitals in London started, multiple clients came rushing in to be one of the stockholders of the company. Reine sneered at that very thought, gripping her phone—almost crushing it.
Lord Smeagol, her cat, purred and snaked his body on her leg. Her cat was no ordinary species and thinking about that just gave her an idea. “Jot down every single word I say and deliver it to your filthy ass boss,” she trailed off and rested her elbows on the marble railings, watching Greece from her balcony.
“They can all come meet me. My pet would be so enthralled to devour on their flesh meat. And only then, they can all go to hell.”
[Madame, plea—]
She hung up on her phone and tossed it on the leather couch behind her. How was it possible for her to remain and act like a normal human being in a world full of monsters? Why can’t she simply blend in and cause chaos like she’s always did? She sighed, massaging her temple.
Light footsteps distracted her from her own thoughts. Lord Smeagol jumped on the marble railings and fixed his gaze on the door. He didn’t look so threatened at all. “Are we expecting anybody, hmm?” She whispered and looked back at the nice view. “Must be the maids. Just about time, I need a goddamn refreshment,” she sighed and let her eyes feast on the burning lights of Greece.
"Sorry to ruin your view but we've got a sitch." A deep and familiar voice emerged behind her.
“Bloody—Oh, my fucking gosh!” Reine looked at the man with long curly hair, smirking at her. “Hunter, you badass,” she grinned and welcomed him a tight hug. She inhaled his strong perfume and a mix of city, smoke, and liquor. “Were you busy being a bad boy?”
Angus Lovatt has more than just a con planned up. With Amelia and Hunter snooping around his premises, unaware of each other’s intentions, and some shady birthday celebrations coming up, events follow them like boom, boom, boom.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
Wall-and-comments in Facebook
AMELIA
Morning had come to London; the sun was beaming through the grey puffy clouds that covered the city like a knit blanket, each stitch having holes where the rare sun poked through. However, to Amelia the day was already proving to be just like anyother. With the sun just managing to peak through the partially closed curtains, and straight into her eyes. Amelia rolled over in her bed with a groan as she squinted against the glare from the window. Without moving from her spot, she reached across the bed to her nightstand, grabbing her cell. Only sitting up properly to turn the screen on and check the time. "Shit", she mumbled and quickly swung her legs off the side of the bed, before making a quick sprint to her closet and then the bathroom to get ready, attempting to avoid tripping over the various class textbooks layed out on the ground as she did so. Angus Lovatt, -one of London's more commonly known con-man whom simply the police could never make a strong enough case against- was scheduled to leave for a 'business meeting' around nine o'clock. Or at least according to one of her past contacts, he was. So like normal, Amelia had simply planned to followed them there from Lovatt's apartment; see if the lead was accurate, snap a few pictures, then anonymously leave them at a nearby police station. 'Though that's not going to happen if you don't hurry up.' Amelia internally scolded herself, just before deeming herself ready to go, slipping on her coat just before walking out the front door.
For anyother occasion, Amelia usually took a cab where ever she went, but considering the circumstances Amelia took her own car. Quickly placing the keys into the ignition just before pulling out of the driveway and headed down the road. The drive to Lovatt's apartment wasn't too long, and to Amelia's own surprise she'd managed to make it there before his car to take him to the meeting, had even arrived. Assuming she still had four or five minutes until his ride would arrive, she pulled over down the street. Far enough away that no one at the apartment would even pay her any attention, but she could still see the front of the apartment.
HUNTER
"And what do we have here?" Hunter clucked his tongue as he peeked through his binoculars. He was in an empty apartment across a certain conman named Angus Lovatt. He'd heard a great deal about this chap because Hunter too was a conman himself. The difference was, Hunter inconspicuously worked for the good guys, as he was a vigilante. Not that his clients needed to know.
He had been here for a few hours now, observing patiently since he heard Lovatt was meeting someone. He'd spent weeks trying to figure out who and where, but Hunter wouldn't bother with this Lovatt persona if he didn't have reason to attract attention in the first place. And Lovatt was good- he covered his tracks well enough for Hunter not to find any crumbs he could trace back to him. He would have admired the man, even, if Hunter had not heard what Lovatt does. You see, Lovatt wasn't just a conman, he was also a ruthless killer. It was the lesser popular thing about him, but Hunter had his resources in the underground community, and they confirmed the fact. He'd been extra careful the entire time, for he had a feeling if he got caught, he will find out what Lovatt was truly capable of. Hunter liked risk, but not this one.
Now back to where he looked over, a great vantage point on the entire street, he noticed a newcomer pull up at a safe, unsuspecting distance to Lovatt's residence. Hunter didn't think twice to know that whoever it was meant business. Whether for or against Lovatt, it was too early to tell. Checking his watch, 2 minutes to 9 o'clock. He licked his lips in anticipation, ready to see what was about to go down.
AMELIA
Amelia didn't have to wait too long until a black SUV pulled right up against the curb in front of Lovatt's apartment. The driver, a large man, slipped out of the car to quickly open the back door. Revealing a slender man with dark hair, in a fitted suit. Undoing her seat belt in order to grant her better range of motion, Amelia let it slide off of her shoulder as she reached for her camera with an extended lens, in the passenger seat. The man continued to make his way towards the front door of the apartment as she zoomed in on his face. The car was silent, except for the muted sounds of multiple clicks as her finger pressed down on the shutter button. "Fuller." Amelia muttered to herself as the mans face became more apparent to her. She'd recognized him from old case files she had been asked to sort through and take down to the storage facilities when she had done her required internship at the law firm in London, though she couldn't quite recall his first name. Then again, maybe now wasn't exactly the best time to agonize over that small detail. His sentence had been up for a few years now, but certainly capturing a photograph of Lovatt -a man already considered high risk- with a convicted felon would give the police enough ground to request a warrant all on it's own. Now the trouble would be getting a clear enough shot. With the camera pointed steady at the door, Amelia focused the lens as she waited for Lovatt to answer and let in his visitor. Not wasting anytime, she pressed down on the camera button the moment the door started to swing open, though only to expose what Amelia assumed was his housekeeper at the door, whom quickly let the other man in before shutting it again.
With a sigh, Amelia set the camera back down and raked her fingers through her hair. She couldn't leave, not when there was a solid opportunity to build a case against Lovatt with one measly picture. Then it dawned on her, of course the idea was reckless but then again sitting in front of a criminals house could qualify as reckless as well. Besides, she'd been in worse situations then the one she was about to put herself in. Without a second thought, Amelia slide her phone into her back pocket and grabbed a bag that had been sitting on the backseat of her car. Though as she went to turn back around in her seat, the hand gun she had placed securely under the chair, came to mind. She shrugged off that thought, no point in bringing something that could potentially cause a problem. With a deep breath she climbed out of the car and headed towards Lovatt's apartment.
HUNTER
Lovatt had finally arrived at his residence. "All right, let's get this party started," Hunter said, and began to make a few adjustments over to his laptop to enhance his visual of the house. He perched the binoculars at a good vantage point while managing to be concealed from being seen outside. The digital cameras attached to the binoculars were activated, along with a listening device that was capable of hearing from a 500-meter radius. Adding a few formulas he'd picked up from his Mathematics degree, he managed to isolate and focus the audio only on Angus Lovatt's place. He placed his earpiece on and began his snooping.
Sounds of low mutters of men were audible, yet a silence quickly encapsulates them. Light, almost soundless footsteps began to echo. "Gentlemen, thank you all for coming," Angus Lovatt told toward the other 5 men who were in the room. 'Angus sure knows how to make quite an entrance,' he thought and continued to listen. "Big birthday's coming up. We're gonna have a splendid time celebrating it, won't we?" He took a glass of wine that was served to him and to his comrades, and they all raised their glasses for a toast. "To the birthday boy." The others echoed
Hunter was typing down his observations along with the chitter chatter. Based on his visuals that showed body heat, there were 6 of them meeting, all of which were armed, and then 3 big armed men. Must be guards. Then he noticed something odd about the place. A heat signature all over which looked familiar to him only as
"Well well," a gun clicked its safety off and was trained at the back of Hunter's skull. He had been so focused spying, he had forgotten to remain aware of his current surrounding. He managed to remain calm; he's been in this position in his life a lot of times before. He dropped the listening device and slowly got up. "That's right," the gruff voice of the man with gun said. "You're gonna tell me exactly who you're working for or I blow your brains out."
"Tempting offer, but I'll pass." In a swift movement, Mathieu moved out of harm's way and faced his tormentor, then hit the gun in one fluid motion, causing it to fly over to the farther side of the room. The tormentor had not seen this coming, and was clearly pissed. He pulled out a knife and charged toward Hunter. The man was good and precise with his attacks, but Hunter was very fast and flexible. He managed to dodge and anticipate where the attacker would try to hit him. Hunter was actually beginning to enjoy their little game, and he smiled a bit. "Quite a fun game we're playing, huh, mate?" He teased, which set the attacker on full force, going at him with a hard jab of the knife. Just in the nick of time, Hunter sidestepped and helped the man by pushing him, sending him straight through the window and down to the ground floor with a loud crash. "Sorry pal, playtime's over," he mumbled as he applied his quickness not only to his wit but also to the reassembling of his things back into his bag. His location was now compromised, and though he handled the first attacker pretty well, knowing that the men from the other street were heavily armed and professionals, Hunter wouldn't stand a chance. Once he was done packing, he put his bag on and left.
Precious Willow Parker and Mathieu Donovan / Hunter
PLOT
Delia, a reporter who knew some dirty little secret she wanted to expose. Precious is sent to kill her, not knowing Mathieu had been too curious that he’d stalked Delia. What dirty secret did they want to keep?
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
Photo status and comments on Facebook
PRECIOUS
Case #: 0000675 Cont….
File #: 0000675
Name: Delia T. Merile
Age: 35
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Occupation: Journalist
Marital Status: Married
Reason to assassinate: Threatening divorce and taking all money just to leave with younger man. Basic “Gold Digger”.
Just by the pictures Precious could tell the woman was at least, if not, about ten or so years older then herself. She didn’t need to look at file again, even though it clearly stated the age. She preferred to take it as seen, not read.
Delia T. Merile was her target. She’s been watching her for days at this point. Following her actions, where it all took her. All except her home. It was tricky, to determine where she was going to and from, but finally Precious managed to snag it. The woman didn’t really change her routine, she was set in stone with her schedule.
Precious leaned against the wall of the building that stood across from the Valiant Writ, the newspaper office. It was office hours, hours that people bustled through the town. She couldn’t just take out her weapon and Fire. No, she had to get the woman alone, out of sight. If only it were as simple as it sounded then maybe, just perhaps, it would all be over with quickly.
Delia was leaving, a paper in her hand, a smile on her face. A smile Precious knew would be her last. Precious watched as the woman slipped into the crowd and soon she, Precious, followed. For once, the woman was walking somewhere different then her normal routine after work. Precious watched her, her eyes following every movement.
Slipping in the crowd, Precious quietly followed, stealthily as she darted in and out of the crowd
HUNTER
“Delia, Delia. What dirty little secret have you found?” Hunter wondered as he pretended to bird watch through his binoculars. In a sense, he did watch ‘birds’, as the flock of people flood the street across. He puts his device away and begins to cross the street in a cool and casual manner.
Last week his hacker friend overheard some weird conversation between two government officials. Only one name was mentioned: Delia T. Merile. Just his luck, the woman was from his neighborhood. Out of curiosity, Hunter decided to do some snooping around of his own. In the conversation, today’s date was mentioned. He’d been stalking Delia for some time now, and he knew her routine well enough. Except for this unexpected change, but he had anticipated it. After hearing his hacker friend’s recording…something was about to go down.
It wasn’t easy to catch up to her, but Hunter was used to surfing the waves of people. He pushed through the crowd easily and 'accidentally’ bumps into her to pick her pocket. “Shit,” she mumbled and continued on her way. “Sorry, miss,” he apologized and shrugged, moving the other direction. His right hand remained in his pocket, where the woman’s phone is now kept. He takes a left turn and pulls out the phone, beginning to browse through its contents swiftly as he could.
Hunter’s eyebrow raised at Delia’s messages to a guy named Roger. She sounds eager to show him what she had gathered for the past weeks. He frowned and shoved the phone back to his pocket. He brisk walked to a shortcut to catch up to Delia. There was more to this that he didn’t understand, but he’s determined to find out.
PRECIOUS
Precious was darting through her the crowd, keeping far enough behind Delia to not capture attention against herself for suspicious activity but not to far so she could watch Delia. Her hands were stuffed in her jacket pockets, her hair bouncing on her shoulders.
She could feel the knifes hilt in her pocket. Where was she was going? She was taking a left turn, getting off the Main Street. Precious fell back, her steps slowing. She was far to focused on following Delia then anything else. Her Fingers twitched against the knife. She was aching for this kill, she wanted to do it. And then she would call her Boss, tell him the news. Her job would be accomplished and she would keep her name.
She was approaching a new street, one she seemed to slow down on. Precious figured she was coming to her destination, but why here? Precious had never followed her to this street below, she knew Delia didn’t know anyone there. Or did she? Perhaps it was just a new place for her to go, a new person in her life. But Precious knew Delia’s life or so she had thought. Slipping in between a few trees, Precious watched as Delia entered the house, waiting to make her move.
HUNTER
Hunter almost lost Delia’s trail but he was able to spot her familiar blonde hair in the crowd. More easier to follow her now as the crowd thins. She was headed to some neighborhood- probably where this Roger guy lived. Delia enters the house, and Hunter continues walking, taking a left toward the neighbor’s house.
It seemed empty, and he hoped it was. Hunter tried the door knob and it was locked just as he’d expected. Casually he picked the door’s lock open, and click. The door unlocks and he makes his way inside.
He shut the door behind him and started looking for ways to overhear the conversation from Roger’s place. He found a laptop in the living room, took it and plugged a device to hack it open. Using a few basic hacks he knew, Hunter managed to listen through the security system Roger used.
“I told you, I don’t want any part in this.” A guy’s voice echoed, which must be Roger.
“If you won’t help me, then fine. I’ll tell the police myself,” Delia spoke firmly and left. Shit just got real, Hunter raised an eyebrow and snapped the laptop shut, plugging off his device and hurried out of the house.
He sees Delia storming off, about to grab something from her pocket. “Miss, wait!” Hunter said as he jogged toward her. “I don’t have time for-” “You dropped this,” he said and handed her her phone. Delia snatched her phone and eyed him suspiciously. She must find his face familiar from their early encounter. The suspicion was quickly replaced with fear. “Go to hell,” she told him and hailed a taxi, a quick escape from him. “Bummer,” he scratched his nape and watched the taxi drive away.
PRECIOUS
Precious had also been following, startled by her new choice of place. Delia wasn’t normally like this, she wasn’t so disorganized. The woman took to a set schedule, a schedule she was supposed to follow. Frustration swept through Precious. How could she change it? That changed everything, completely everything. Precious wasn’t able to kill her, to make her move that day.
Sighing, she kept following. What should she do? Hold of a little? Perhaps. Just until the woman was alone. She would follow the rest of the evening and what until she was alone. Then she would make her move.
The blonde went into a house, a seemingly empty house. Shadows moved after her, an odd way to enter the place. But Precious ignored them, her focus needed to remain on the woman, her job on hand. She slipped to the side of the house, stepping over into the shadows so she could blend in and not startle any neighbors. She would wait, wait until the woman came out and was ready to leave. No doubt she’d be alone.
The door finally opened, minutes later after her entering. She stepped inside and Precious leaned over the edge of the house to watch as she began to walk off. And then, out of nowhere, the guy ran after her, holding out an object. Precious frowned, raising an eyebrow as she slipped back on the sidewalk, crossing the street with her hands in her pockets as she pretended to just be walking. The woman got in a taxi, driving off. Precious grit her teeth as she watched the yellow car speed off. Her target was gone.
Crossing the street quickly towards Hunter, she stepped up to him angrily. “What’s wrong with you?” She demanded, her voice low so as not to attract attention of any unwanted passerby listening in on them.
HUNTER
He focused on the taxi, memorizing the plate number. He began to walk away, pondering about what his next move would be. Hunter snaps out of his reverie as an angry woman greets him, “What’s wrong with you?” He took a step back and raised his eyebrow. From her posture and expression, he could tell she was supposed to do something but she wasn’t able to. And- “-you’re blaming me?” he points to himself.
“Why,” he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, “Did you hope you’d be the one to give the woman her phone back?” He knew he shouldn’t be talking the way he was now. He’d had so many experiences in the past that when his mouth talked off, he got into bad situations. Plus, he knew better than to challenge the girl. For all he knew she was an assassin, not an improbability to stumble upon them in his line of work. Which lead him to ask, “Or maybe. You had plans to take care of Delia.”
Wrong move, Hunter, his mind scolded at him for saying the name of the girl that just left. Throwing out names and information to people you don’t know? That’s plain stupid. Hunter shrugged it off and looked straight at the girl’s voice. He coughed. “I’m running late for a job interview. Best get going,” he said as if nothing happened and began to walk off.
PRECIOUS
Precious stared at him, baffled by his words. Her own eyebrows raised at his words and she crossed her arms, turning as he turned away. “Job interview my ass. How did you know her?” She demanded, glaring at his back and then back towards the disappearing taxi.
Precious sighed, frustrated. “Whatever. I have to go.” She snapped and pulled out her phone, sending a text.
“You should watch what you say.” She mumbled, shaking her head as she began to follow him. “Come here.” She said, suddenly changing her mood towards him. “I have something to show you.” She smiled at him, a forced smile to him.
HUNTER
Hunter pursed his lips to keep himself from laughing at the lady’s words. He continued walking his way, taking out his phone as he began to pull up an app Dayton, his hacker colleague, had made. It was a very handy map that did more than give direction to places. He quickly typed up the taxi’s plate number on the search box and hit the find button. A result was already loading when the PMS lady a while ago comes into picture once again.
As a professional thief, his hand was quick to swipe his phone’s screen to a different view. He began to type intently a reply to a nonexistent contact before she was close enough to stop him from what he was doing. “Hm?” He looked at her curiously. “Miss, my future boss’s secretary is telling me if I’m not there in 5 minutes, the job offer is” and he made his hand slash his throat to imply the word 'dead’.
PRECIOUS
Precious was already frustrated, she hadn’t been able to complete her job that day and the next may not be able to give her opportunity. It didn’t always work out best if she didn’t make the hit when planned.
But there was nothing she could do, unless she somehow took this guy down. He was a witness, in a sense, and she couldn’t have him snooping around anymore. But as it would be, Precious had to step to the side, crossing her arms.
Delaying the man would be serious consequences, she was already delayed on her most recent job. She flashed a smile at him and turned, forgetting her attempts to get him away, and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction of which she had arrived in.
HUNTER
Hunter entered a fake number and began a fake call to it, while watching the odd woman walk away. “Hey. Are you the secretary of-” once the woman was out of his view he ended his act and furrowed his eyebrows. Something about her bothered him severely. The way she acted from pissed to friendly, then pissed again. Not now, he shook his head to stop his train of thought on focusing with the stranger. All his focus was supposed to be on Delia. He put his hand up for a taxi and gave vague instructions on where to go, while he watched on his phone where Delia was headed.
PRECIOUS
Precious rounded a corner and ducked in the alleyway just feet beyond it. It was dark, chilly, and it hid her well. She was giving the other man an opportunity leave, to disappear before Precious turned around and went back to her car. The silver stuck out against the white, but Precious didn’t have time to think about that. She only hoped she wasn’t spotted and followed after that. She had a job to do, a job to accomplish and she didn’t want anymore delays.
Goddamn, that man had delayed her by several precious minutes she could’ve used to take down Delia. Precious was going to have to move quickly in order to get this job complete before the damn blonde tried to leave or any other company arrived. Precious’ time was running thin and quick.
Precious slid into the drivers seat, listening as the leather creaked beneath her. She had watched the taxi drive off and had a pretty good idea where she was headed, Precious only hoped that she was right. Swerving the car into the street, her foot slammed on the gas pedal, throwing the gear into drive as she sped off. The steering wheel moved easily beneath her hands, as if it wanted to move at the lightest touch of her fingers. Her car was hers, she had hand picked it and everything. The thing was practically her best friend, well in reality it was her only best friend. Precious was far to skeptical of the world to have any actual friends and growing up the way she had, she preferred no best friends. Turning the car around a corner sharply, she caught sight of a few taxis on midday rush, the one nearing her had the puff of blonde hair. Blonde hair Precious only hoped belonged to Delia. And with that, the silver car pulled up behind a red one that followed the Cab. She slowed down by pressing the brake lightly, not wanting to ram the car in front and drawing any attention to herself. Questions and police were a bad combination, especially since her answers were going to have her end up in jail if she was ever truthful.
Lies, Precious knew how to tell lies. It was a good quality in an Assassin, one of the lessons learned first at her school. But no one was perfect at it, no one could be perfect at anything.
The red car was switching lanes, heading off the intersection. It put Precious right behind the Cab, enabling her to see a better view of the blonde sitting in front of the back window. This close up, Precious could see the outline. It was her target. Her fingers twitched, aching for the shot that would end the woman’s life, aching to make the end of this mission Precious had been slaving so hard over.
But traffic was the wrong place to do that, it would get her caught.
And Precious just couldn’t have that, now could she?
Following the Cab off the intersection, she watched as Delia was taken to her house, finally home. Something Precious was ecstatic about to see. She pulled her car back, away from the sight of the taxi and the woman getting out soon. Precious had to park a block away and continue on foot. It wasn’t hard, it was actually easy and Precious enjoyed the breath of fresh air, she just needed to stay out of any suspicious eyes landing on her.
With her handheld gun I’m the back of her pants, her shirt covering it carefully, Precious made her way to the house, walking straight up the front porch steps. Sneaking in through a window or going around to the back would most definitely alert a neighbor and the cops would be called and on scene within minutes. She just couldn’t have that. No, no, no. The taxi cab was now pulling away as Precious climbed the steps, taking no notice of the ebony black haired young woman heading up the porch.
Her fist curled, rapping on the door. It was to soon for visitors as Delia had just gotten home. She wouldn’t be expecting anyone and the surprise would have her opening the door to see if a girls scout was out selling cookies or even just a salesman heading door to door. And sure enough, Precious could hear the clicking of hurried heels heading to answer the front door. Her own face screwed up, her eyes got watery from the movement. Such an easy move to pretend she was crying. So easy, so simple.
The blonde pulled open the door, looking disheveled at the sight of her visitor.
“Yes?” She asked, her voice tight.
Precious reached behind her, whipping her gun out so it lay in front of her, in Delia’s sight but out of the view of any peeking eyes. Delia took a startled step back, her eyes on the gun, and at a loss for words.
Precious followed her in, finger on the trigger. “Now close the door.” She demanded, jerking her head at it. “Go on.”
Precious wasn’t one for games at the end, she made her kills quickly and this was no different. A quick, icy smile at Delia as the woman shut the door and then she looked at her gun before walking towards the kitchen, motioning the gun in that direction to have Delia move ahead of her.
The thought of shooting her made Precious thrilled, but it would be so much noise. Noise that would alert anyone near the house and alert the police by phone calls. Stupid, idiotic human beings, Precious actually felt sorry for being one herself.
Sighing, she set the gun down, turning to pick up the butcher knife, slowly drawing it out it container.
“You’ve been naughty, haven’t you Delia?” Precious chuckled and turned to her target. “And naughty people always have to pay the consequences.”
Delia’s eyebrows furrowed together, eyeing the knife Precious now held. “What are you talking about? Who are you?” She demanded, but her words quivered upon her lips.
Precious gave a frosty laugh, shaking her head as she approached the blonde woman. “Me? Oh, I’m your worst nightmare sweetheart.” She purred and lifted the edge of the knife under Delia’s chin. “Everyone pays for their trouble.” She whispered and before Delia could even make another sound, the blade twisted in her palm and she slashed the woman’s throat.
Delia’s let out a gag, grabbing at her suddenly oozing throat. The dark red liquid covered her palms as she desperately tried to stop the bleeding, but Precious had sliced good and deep. Her knees buckled and she went down, blood pooling from her mouth as she gave one pleading look to Precious before her stark blue eyes faded. Precious didn’t like messes, they attracted unwanted attention. She didn’t like her fingers being coated with red or the splash of blood upon her shirt. But it always seemed to happen, no matter what way she killed. But Precious still fucking hated it.
Slamming the bloodied thin strip of bloodied knife on the counter, Precious bent over, reaching under to push the corpse onto her back. She was still spewing blood, blood that ran onto Precious’ forearms, making the mess even worse to have to deal with. But Precious was precise about this, her victims always needed to face upwards as if they were looking at the ceiling. Shaking her head, She stood up, snatching the knife off of the counter. She didn’t want to leave that crucial part of evidence behind.
Precious made her way back to the front door, pulling open the door to the coat closet and yanking out the nearest one inside. She pulled it over her now drenched in blood clothes and arms before pocketing the knife and going back for her gun, pocketing it as well.
Once they were both stowed away and she was covered, Precious slipped out the front door, keeping her face hidden from anyone out as she started to make her way back to her car, walking casually so to not track attention.
HUNTER
He decided he would keep his distance from Delia for the meantime. The beeping light on his phone which showed her whereabouts would have to suffice. He knew prodding around her like a stalker would only make him appear as a bad guy instead of a curious, eavesdropping vigilante that wanted the truth, and if she would let him, Hunter was willing to lend a helping hand.
For now, he made a call to his friend, Dayton, wondering if there were any cameras located nearby Delia’s home. The odd woman still unnerved him, and if a camera caught the face of the woman, Dayton’s wide-ranging database might be able to identify the mystery girl.
“Delia’s house is outside of the camera’s scope,” Dayton told him, which Mathieu wasn’t too pleased to hear.
“How about the one turning left corner, to Quincy street. Any camera there?” He spoke in a quiet voice. While he was keeping his distance, he would still be on the look out for Delia. He also didn’t want the taxi driver to overhear his words, in case the driver turned out to be more than his daytime job.
“Hold on…” A few seconds of silence from the other line before Dayton speaks again, “yes, two cameras at Quincy street, one to the far north west, another nearer at Delia’s. What am I looking for?”
Hunter grinned- his friend always knew when it was time to get down in business. His eyes were trailed outside the window to Delia’s vehicle. “I’m looking for a white female, around her 20s. Dressed in dark clothing like whatI would wear to easily blend in and look inconspicuous. Dark, long wavy hair. Round face. Blue eyes. Check the time frame-” he paused and double checked the time on his watch “- 10-20 minutes ago. Tell me if you find her.”
“Will do boss,” she snickered before ending the call. Hunter kept his phone and slumped on the chair, looking to the driver who was looking back at him. Turns out they had already arrived at the destination.
Oh, he thought, straightening his posture and feeling his pocket for some money. He paid the driver in cash. “Keep the change,” and he gets out of the cab. The man gave Mathieu one final puzzled look before shaking his head and driving away. Mathieu followed the taxi with his eyes, shrugging before entering a restaurant on the side of the road he was in. On look on his phone and he knew Delia was in the building across the street, dealing with her shady affairs which was the reason he stuck around here in the first place. He found himself the perfect seat for speculating whilst enjoying his order of roasted rosemary beef and fetuccini, with a glass of white wine.
—
Delia finally ordeal and went straight back home. Hunter of course continued to stalk her obscurely. He’d already decided he’d approach Delia and be more frank with her in order to understand this government conspiracy buzz. Nosy him just couldn’t let this go, and also something in his instinct told him he’s dealing with murky water. Dayton only confirms this suspicion when her searches for a match of the mystery woman came up empty. His colleague was concerned about him.
“…I have a bad feeling about this, Hunter.”
“Me too,” he replied before ending the call. On cue, his ride arrives near Delia’s residence. He decided he’d walk on foot to talk to her. To his surprise, the mystery woman had arrived first. He quickly hid in the shadow of the neighboring buildings. Hunter tried to get a better view of Delia’s front porch but with the poorly lit streets and a few trees and bushes in his view, there was barely anything to make out. What he was sure of is that Delia had let the woman in. He checked his watch and remained hidden. Whatever those two’s business was is important, but he couldn’t risk being spotted.
Minutes pass before the woman stepped out of the house. She was well-covered, a professional at whatever she was doing. Being inconspicuous. But that never fooled someone who had the same tricks up his sleeve. Once he was certain the woman had left, he rushed to Delia’s home. He held the knob and twisted it open. It unlocked. Hunter took a sharp breath before making his way in.
The sight of Delia’s corpse greeted him on his way. Blood pooled around her, and it was obvious who committed the kill. He informs Dayton to call 911 while he got out of the house, making sure to leave no trace of his presence being there. His eyes were looking to the direction where the woman walked to, and he broke into a run. He had a feeling he didn’t stand a chance against her, but he does have a couple of tricks up his sleeve, and he will play them tonight if given the chance.
PRECIOUS
The footsteps following her made Precious stop, her eyes clouding over in anger as the scowl appeared on her face, annoyance flickering in her eyes as she stepped off to the side of the sidewalk, hands stuffed in her coat. Her fingers curled around the knife, clammy from the blood slick on the handle. Had someone seen her leaving Delia's place? Running her tongue over her lips, Precious toyed with the knife in her pocket, watching the dark figure approach her. She had been seen, that much was obvious, and a gut feeling told her that he knew what she had done. It was why he was running, why he was after her. It was why Precious whipped around, moving her feet quickly.
If this man was apart of the authorities, she was in trouble. Sebastian wouldn't be happy if she was caught, he wouldn't be pleased at all. She would be punished if she were caught as she wasn't about to go through punishment, not again. Not again. Anger flared through her chest, but Precious pushed it away as her feet slammed against the concrete of the sidewalk, moving her faster then ever before. She didn't want to be caught, couldn't be caught. The jail life wasn't something for her, the jail life wasn't for her.
Tree branches scraped her cheeks, reaching out as she passed them, the wind whipped her hair around her face, tugging at her coat, threatening to expose the scarlet covering her clothes and flesh beneath it. Cars flew by, buildings swept by her vision, they were all out to rip her coat off, to expose the truth of Precious was. They wanted to show her to the follower behind her, to stamp on her what she'd done, to show who she was. She couldn't be caught.
But the thing was, Precious wasn't used to running from anyone. She could run, that wasn't the issue, but doing it from someone was the problem. She had always been able to evade authority, she was never an associate of any of her victims, it was one of the top rules: Don't get close to the victims. You weren't allowed to associate with the victims, not that Precious really cared. She didn't ever want to know her victims, they were pieces of trash waiting to be taken out in her eyes. One slice, one click, and it was done. She'd never been seen before though, never been chased.
And the surprise had her feet catching on the cracks, flying to the ground. Her hands flew out, sliding on the sidewalk as she fell, the coat she had stolen cushioning her fall as the clatter of the knife was heard in the sudden silence as Precious lay there, breathing hard. Pushing herself up, she turned and fell onto her back into the grass, her chest heaving. She could hear the feet approaching, her breathing was still heavy as she laid there. Her eyes squeezed shut, exhaling slowly. "Fine, you caught me. Now what?" She gasped, struggling still to breathe.
Hunter breaks into Zander’s facility, because he works for Zander’s comptetitor. Dropping the crowbar does him no good. What happens next is a lot of beating.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
Wall-to-wall
ZANDER
A silence fell, and everyone stood up as Zander Xade walked his way to the weapons crate, not saying a word he opened the crate to have a look inside, after making his check there was an eerie grin on his face, “Excellent!” he said as he closed the crate, turning to his henchmen, “Let’s get these weapons out of here, I would like to catch that dinner I have with my wife,” he said. “She is here!”
Zander of course didn’t know that Hunter waited and listened as he and his bodyguards left, Zan could still hear a couple of the guards arguing about a chess game. He then turned to check them up and pointed out. “I pay you not for playing chess here!” He said sharply and headed out. Some guards winced to each other as they moved those weapons to warehouse. All were busy listing and checking everything in the warehouse except those two careless guys.
“That’s not how you move the bishop”, one guard said.
“How am I supposed to move it then?!” yelled the other guard.
“The bishop moves diagonally, and the rook goes in straight lines you dimwitted bastard,” said the first guard.
HUNTER
Hunter bit his lips hard, not because he was bound to make a comment but because he had to stop himself from laughing at the two blokes who were playing chess. He wasn’t sure what was so funny about it, but that’s just how weird his sense of humor worked. He waited until he could hear less of the people in the room before carefully working on opening the crate.
“Clink!” he accidentally dropped the crowbar. Oh shit. He stopped moving, taking slow deep breaths to keep his location unknown from his soon to be perpetrators. Hunter cursed himself silently, hoping his mistake doesn’t cause him this job. Or his life.
ZANDER
The people had finished moving the crate to warehouse. They locked them in and left. The manager and a warehouse guard came to Zan office to give him the check list of the product. Zan was with his wife, about went to have dinner outside, but he just accepted the list and took a glance at it for a while till he noticed something strange. There were some illegal product that he had never ordered them. He glanced up shaking his head at his employees. “How dare!” He told his wife to wait for a while, while he went checking the products. He frowned once he heard a clink inside the warehouse. He glanced sharply at the two of his employees.“Someone just broke into. How come?” He headed in looking at the crate which opened slightly. He narrowed his eyes.
HUNTER
Too stupid, Hunter thought. He could hear Zander’s voice booming angrily from his position. So he heard the crowbar, huh? Just my like, Hunter grumbled inwardly. He decided if he wanted to keep his silence or put on his con artist self. Neither had appealing outcomes for him. He chose to stay put and will only start talking once they find his exact location.
ZANDER
Zan looked around then back to the crate. “Open it!” The guard soon opened the crate for him and he started to pick the AK-47s. “This is illegal right?“He talked to the manager. Tomorrow, there would be another full of weapons crates sent, so he told him to just make sure anything before they sent them. "You won’t be tolerate if it happens again."Zan gave him a clear nod. "Make sure everything is safe!” He grabbed the guard’s collar.“Understand?” The guard winced then Zan shoved him roughly. He turned around to stare at those weapons. “There is someone hiding here!”
HUNTER
Hunter shuts his eyes, preparing himself for the worse. He opens them again and tries to grab the taser hidden in his backpack. He takes slow, deep breaths to calm himself and he rolls onto his front. He begins to crawl to the other crates as fast and as quietly as he could. The taser was in his jacket’s pocket, easy to pull out in case he needs to fight back. He was near freedom when his radio creaked loudly, the voice of Titus booming. “Yo Hunter, everything okay back there?”
Hunter fumbled and tried to shut the fucking radio off but it was too late. Two guards had flanked him on both ends. All Hunter could was give them a sheepish grin, “Uh,” he slowly got up, scratching his head, “I’m kinda lost, can you guys tell me where St. Abbey Street is?” For his attempt, he receives a hard punch in the gut. Hunter barely stomached the pain as he was dragged to face their boss. “Sir, look what we found by the crates.” The guards looked pleased with their accomplishment.
ZANDER
He stepped out the warehouse and went to the elevator but he heard something behind him he then turned to see what was happening. He looked at the other two guards who brought someone to him. He frowned slightly. He walked towards the guy and faced him. One of his brows arched up before he started talking. “Is there something you did, brother?”
HUNTER
Hunter took a quick look at Zander and knew with certainty he wasn’t someone to mess with. Hunter gulps and speaks in a stuttering voice- all part of an act, of course. “I… I’m lost sir,” his hands shook as he tried to hold himself together. Truth was he was scared, but he’d been tortured too many times before, and he was getting used to it. “Do you know where St. Abbey Street is?” His eyes were locked on his feet, unwanting to look at Zander straight in his face.
ZANDER
“You are way lost it seems, yeah?” He looked him top to toe and back to catch his eyes. “I know you, don’t I? You are Hunter, a guy in club who bumped into me months ago.” He nodded and grinned. “You are lost here in my company looking for where the fuck St Abbey is? Do you think i don’t fucking know that you just hid in my fucking warehouse. Nah? Now what?” Zan thought something about Hunter. Zan was quite sure that Hunter had a big planning in his tricky head that was why he was here.
HUNTER
Hunter’s thoughts ran full time. He recognized me?! This is bad. This is really, really bad…
“He had this too, boss,” one of the guards ‘accidentally’ bump into Hunter before handing the radio to Zander. “He might have an accomplice with him.” The guard beamed proudly. Hunter almost scoffed because he remembered how stupid the guards were at playing chess, but he kept his mouth shut.
He slowly looked at Zander and gave him a half grin. “It’s been a while, yeah? Didn’t think I’d see you here, mate.” And for that wisecrack he receives a hard punch in the gut.
ZANDER
Zan just shook his head once one of his guards landed a punch in hunters gut. He sharply looked at the guard.“who orders you to give him a punch huh?” “But boss he’s so stupid.” “Shut up!” Zan gripped the radio and waved it right in front of hunters eyes.“Mr.hunter, is it your toy?” Still till the radio beeped and there was a voice behind. “Yo H, we have to get out of here! Move your ass!” Zan’s eyes widened looking straight at hunter. He gave hunter clue to response his mate. His corner of the lips arched up.
HUNTER
Titus you idiot, Hunter thought as he stared at the radio. “Go home, you’re drunk,” he spoke in a hollow, empty voice. He looks at Zander, “Yeah, it’s mine. I use it to keep track of my stupid friends, like the drunkard on the other end of the line.” Hunter hoped Titus heard his words and leave as soon as he could. Unlike Hunter, Titus was not raised in a violent environment.
ZANDER
He threw away the radio against the wall. “Why bullshit?”
HUNTER
Hunter kept his mouth shut and thought about what he’d say next. He didn’t want to end up like the radio- thrown and turned to bits and pieces.
ZANDER
Zan still kept his eyes straight to a guy standing right in front of him. “So Hunter, it seems like you’re trying to find out what will you say next. Or are you going to act again because you have such an incredible skill in acting?” He roughly gripped his collar facing him close nose to nose. “"Well go on already, we’re all eagerly waiting to hear your next wise crack…” Still “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Zan stepped backwards a bit “I’m sure my associates can help with that predicament. You see they’re not like you and me, easy to say that they’re not really human, only on the outside that is.” He inhaled sharply and exhaled as started to continue “You see my associates here, they’re pretty good at making people talk”, Zander glared at Hunter “So you wanna talk?” Zan eagerly scream. “WHO SENT YOU HERE?!” Zander punched Hunter square in his face, making his nose and lips bleed.
HUNTER
There’s no point in getting beat up dead for the client, he thought. Who’d he pay if I died?
Hunter chuckled darkly and spat the blood on the floor. He realized he was protecting Titus. Hoping he’d gotten away to safety, Hunter said. “I’m a thief, duh,” he bobbed his head toward the crowbar and to his backpack which the guards held. “I take whatever clients I get and it just so happens he wants one of your weapons.” Hunter shrugged.
The dull throbbing of pain all over his body was bound to make him pass out soon enough, but he held himself together and look to Zander. “What’s so special about your weapons anyway?” He didn’t care if he took a blow for asking that question. Hunter’s curiosity was a powerful force, and no physical injuring can stop him from knowing what he wants to know.
ZANDER
He laughed at his question then stopped and still for a while, looking at him quite intently. “What so special about my weapons?” He mirrored his question. “The real fucking thief should learn and understand about everything they steal. No matter what.” He showed his teeth clapping Hunter’s right jaw. “You should be more careful when you come to my area dude. It’s too risky for you.” He folded his arms crossing them right against his chest. “But.. You are lucky now.” He breathed then continued. “Here i give you two choices that you can choose. You show me who the hell your boss is, or your fucking crowbar will end up your life in a minute. It’s very easy isn’t it?” He put his chin up glaring at him with a grin.
HUNTER
“I almost found out. I was just too busy observing your guards’ dumb chess moves.” Hunter hoped that doesn’t garner him another punch. He could see the guards clenching their fists, ready to hit Hunter, but they held back. They’ve afraid their boss won’t approve, he thought.
Two choices. Ah, Hunter shook his head and sighed in defeat. He always got these ‘two choices, two offers’ shit when he messed up. Life or death, they say. The obvious choice was life, of course. Death was preferred delayed by most, even by Hunter. But he had a contingency plan for things like this. He bobbed his head to his bag. “Have a look inside.” His voice sounded tired, and he was.
Hunter hoped Zander doesn’t think it was a trap he’d prepared. No, it was more like, Hunter had stolen something that belonged to his client as a backup plan. If Zander wanted it, he could keep it. Maybe he could use it to his advantage.
ZANDER
He turned his head slightly to look at the two of his guards. “Who won the match?” He cocked his head on one side still narrowing his eyes as showing a quite friendly grin at both of them then he looked back at Hunter. His face turned so serious, again. “What the fuck are you doing? It’s easy to just say who the fuck your client is right? Or… it seems like you are waiting for my gag before your crowbar?”
HUNTER
Hunter lets out an exasperated sigh. “It doesn’t matter shit who my client is. I stole something from him too, and maybe if you take a look inside my bag like I tell you to, you’d find it more useful than his damn identity.” Bold move, Hunter, bold move, he thinks to himself. But really, he stole a small device- presumably an experimental weapon- that was concealed in such a secured facility, but Hunter found it was rather easier to steal from a tech-rigged place like that, than a man-powerhouse like Zander’s warehouse. With his near to basic combat skills and lack of desire to hurt anybody for his own protection, Hunter was as good as dead
ZANDER
He took a look inside of his backpack and looked up back to face him. “You’re really really out of what i am trying to point out Mr. Hunter.” He shook his head. “I really need to know about the fucking client of yours, because I AM NOT LIKE THE STUPID MOTHER FUCKER THAT HE might think.” He exhaled. “He sent you here to steal those materials of wars but you could easily steal his God damn precious product. How appropriate?” He gripped Hunter’s collar. “You are a real smart fucking ass Hunter. A real one!” He shoved him roughly. “Show me what you have got!” He pointed out to his bag.
HUNTER
“He admires your work, Zander. He doesn’t think your stupid. He thinks I am,” he shook his head. People always considered Hunter dumb but that only bit those people back in their asses. Just like what was about to happen to his current client.
Hunter mumbles under his breath, “I’ll take that as a compliment,” before he wriggles away from Zander’s grip. He wipes the blood off his mouth before opening the bag and pulling out a normal-looking device. It was a small black box, as if nothing was special about it. Hunter walks to Zander and hands it to him.
ZANDER
The small black box was in his hand right after Hunter handed it to him. He frowned slightly staring at the box for a while then shaking his head. He hesitated for a while. He was just not sure about Hunter. Was it a part of his acting or what. He looked up at Hunter and kept his eyes on Hunter’s, sharply and quite intent to know or get something that he wasn’t acting. He was just unpredictable and.. spontaneous.
HUNTER
Hunter could feel Zander’s eyes ripping him apart piece by piece. He didn’t know what to do with he box he held. Hunter sighed and pushed a button which unlocked the box. Inside were 5 vials of a brown liquid substance. “It’s a biochemical weapon,” he mumbled quietly. “Experimental but tested. They tried it on their own group of scientists,” he shook his head and chuckled darkly as he recalled seeing the scientists drop dead before he escaped with the vials.
ZANDER
“Tested!” He glared at the biochemical weapon in his hand. “Nice, I just need to make sure everything is fine with this kind of weapon. It’s a brand new chemical experimental. He felt his own steps got close to where hunter was standing. "Do you think I need this weapon? Will it give any advantage to my company?” He glanced at the vials and looked at Hunter.
HUNTER
Hunter looked straight into Zander’s eyes. “If you sell it to the right people, yeah,” he nodded. He knew Zander doubted Hunter’s words, and he had reason to. If he were Zander, he wouldn’t trust himself either. But Hunter also knew that Zander knew he wasn’t lying. Hunter has no room for lying, facing certain death and all.
“Y'know, you could try it for yourself,” he scratched his nape. “Maybe you have enemies you’d like to die of,” and Hunter’s hands quote in the air, “ 'heart attack’ ? 'gas leak’ ?” He raised an eyebrow, hoping Zander did have enemies he’d want dead.
ZANDER
He laughed and gave him applause. “How appropriate, you are and I think I can try it to yourself, you were just like a gopher in my warehouse.” He smirked. He could trust Hunter somehow, and maybe it gave him a chance to get something benefit from him. “You know something Mr.H, I don’t bother to deal with thief.” He glanced at his watch. “My wife’s waiting for me and I still have something to do with you!” He ordered to handcuff him on a pole and make sure he couldn’t escape. “I’ll be seeing you again Mr. H.” He turned and walked away.
HUNTER
Hunter bobbed his head in acknowledging Zander as he spoke and left. Hunter didn’t trust himself to speak before he causes more trouble. The guards weren’t as kind as their employer though; their tough, calloused hands tie him roughly and drag him toward a pole. Hunter faked being weak and crashed into one of the guards, garnering Hunter yet another punch. “Easy, fellas,” Hunter said, wincing. “You better shut up before we punch you again, lad,” a guard said. With that, Hunter pursed his lips.
They secure Hunter on the pole and stationed a single guard to keep an eye on him. The other two left to guard some other post, at least, that’s what Hunter assumed. The remaining guard was different from the other two. He was quiet and not as violent, but Hunter was certain, if the guard is provoked, Hunter will die. Those piercing eagle-like eyes that stared at Hunter didn’t help his unease. He gulped and smiled nervously. “Heh.” The guard raised an eyebrow, before getting back to the newspaper he was reading earlier. He placed his gun on the table, easy to reach, as if daring Hunter to do something stupid. Then he’ll shoot.
How encouraging, Hunter sighed, as he carefully cut through the ropes using a pocket knife he’d snagged from one of the guards earlier. He hoped Eagle Eye doesn’t notice.
ZANDER
A sigh left his throat as he headed into his office. He found Ava still sit in the couch. “Sorry baby.” He pecked her lips as wrapped an arm around her. He helped her up on her heels leaning down against on her lips. “Sorry, some shits always happen.” He smirked and walked to the parking lot ready to have a sexy dinner.
Since Zan just left the biochemical weapon on his guard’s hands, one of the guards just started to play with the vials once Zan left them. After making sure that Hunter was chained well he didn’t pay so much attention. The other guards just as careless as himself. The guard who played the vials, walked towards Hunter, not noticing that Hunter worked on to cut off the rope. He waved the weapon in front of his eyes. “This is bullshit!” The guard said to Hunter’s ear. “Right?” “Roge, put your God damn ass here!” The eagle eye shouted at the dopey causing him to stop swinging the weapon in front of Hunter’s eyes.
HUNTER
Fear shone in Hunter’s eyes, something he didn’t need to fake. He grinned slightly at Roge, as he prayed to anyone, /anything/ that his cutting goes unnoticed. Hunter may have been spared now, but he knew how these things came to pass. He’ll be killed soon enough, and he wasn’t gonna stick around to find out if he was right.
Just a little more, he thought hopefully as he felt the ropes loosening around his wrist. He stopped cutting for now, since Eagle Eye and Roge were both stationed nearby. Any stupid action he attempts will surely have grave consequences.
Eagle Eye dismissed Roge, and continues reading his newspaper, and Hunter felt as if Eagle Eye was ignoring him intentionally now. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Whatever it was, Hunter was brave enough (more like stupid enough) to wriggle his hands free from the ropes. Still, he continued to pretend he was stuck on that pole, while his eyes scanned the warehouse for a possible distraction. Escape was imperative.
ZANDER
Zan at the moment had a quite humble yet sexy dinner with his wife in a famous italian restaurant in New York. He picked up a piece of pizza to munch it into a little pieces in his mouth then swallowed hard, not really happy that the piece had to leave his mouth. He took a sip of water and threw a wicked smile to her wife when she held his hand. They ended up in bed soon after getting home.
HUNTER
Despite his free hands, Hunter felt hopeless in the situation. That’s when a miracle happened. A smoke bomb plops in front of Eagle Eye. Quick on his feet as always, Hunter had already covered his nose and began running toward the exit. There, waiting for him outside, was Titus inside a stolen vehicle. Hunter couldn’t believe it. Titus set up this distraction?!
“Hurry up already, Trumpet,” Titus snapped at Hunter. He quickly recovered and hopped into the vehicle. They drove away as fast as Titus could, and the gunshots fired at them were too late. Hunter slouched on the seat and sighed. Oh boy, Zander’s gonna be so pissed at his employees /and/ me, he thought.
ZANDER
Those glaring eyes of Zan’s sharply blamed everything to his fucking foolish guard. “Oh it seemed you all are going to get a special gift from your boss right.” He faked a laugh at those guards who stood up lining in front of his desk. “What a wonderful news.” His voice sounded totally friendly but a deep blaming was intimidated to come out. “Okay, I find it’s so interesting to KICK YOU ASS OFF MY COMPANY.” His voice turned to be a loud shout. The eagle eye force himself to look up at his boss. “Please, Mr.Xade, we can do this, I promise you to find out where is that gopher.” Zan shook his head. “You promise me bullshit!” He pointed to the two of 3 guys in front of him. “Both of you please, YOU ARE FIRED.” The two stupid Roge and Todd who always busy with their own stupid things winced to each other then forced themselves to look at Zan. “Boss..” Nothing would be accepted, they definitely were fired. The eagle eye still stood up in front of his desk. “You can leave my office.” He gestured to let him out. “Thank you sir,” He nodded. Zan spun around and saw the hectic day of new york through the window.
HUNTER
“Your father said you hated fighting,” Pancho commented as he finished fixing Hunter up. Pancho was a local tattoo artist who apparently had a nursing degree. No one believed the guy when he said so, but Hunter knew otherwise. The time he’d spent in Mexico had taught him never ever judge a book by its cover.
Titus snapped impatiently at the sidelines. “Is it done already?” Hunter grabbed a pack of gauss and threw it at his friend. “Yeah, all done.” Hunter pulls out a roll of cash from his jacket and generously pays Pancho. “Thanks,” he pats Pancho as he and Titus leaves.
—
“You do know Zander’s gonna want your head on a platter, right?” Count on Titus to remind him of his shit. “I already have a plan,” Hunter replied as he uncomfortably leans against the passenger seat. “Just tell me when we’re there.” “All right, boss,” Titus shrugged and kept driving toward Zander’s competitor’s building.
William Carlyle McCain and Mathieu Donovan / Hunter
PLOT
Thief Tavern was not born out of nothing. It is by these two, William and Mathieu, meeting in the London International School of Performing Arts that their vigilante mishaps began.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
Walll-to-wall on Facebook
HUNTER
It was one of those busy school days in LISPA, even for sophomore me. I held notebook upon book upon notebook, with papers inserted in random pages. On top of it all was a thick script I was supposed to read, practice and memorize. “Well this is fun,” I tell myself as I walked through the hallway. I try to look for a vacant room where I could deal with all this schoolwork, and once I do, I enter the room and close the door behind me. I put my heavy burden down a desk, and sat on the nearby stool. I stare at my homework pile and decide I’d be sleeping this shit away instead. What I don’t realize is that I wasn’t alone in the room.
It was an arts classroom, and there was one student, a male, who was still working hard on his contraption of sorts. Out of curiosity, I stood up and approach the student to get a closer look. He looked very intent on what he was doing, so I’m certain he didn’t notice me. Once I was close enough at a safe distance still, I clear my throat, “That’s a pretty cool thing you have there, lad,” I tell him. Hopefully he isn’t startled by my presence. I wouldn’t want to ruin his artwork.
WILLIAM
Another busy day in LISPA and just like the recent days, that bastard teacher is providing me with a special canvas to paint on ever since he saw my talent. But sorry, I won’t be stupid and paint him a work of Picasso which costs millions. I have to paint as a requirement; however, I feel lazy finding a new object or scenery to paint. I was painting a copy of Mona Lisa before, then that teacher saw what I could do. I could see the sprakle in his eyes, and I know that he is up to something. He will keep that painting, and sell it in a price near to the original’s. He can retire very early if that happens, that’s one thing. In the worst case, it would be known as a fake then he would point me to the authorities. So I brought the unfinished painting home, and start an original work to submit to him. The lesson is: Never make a replica of another art in school.
Right now, I’m alone in my usual arts classroom painting the scenery from a photo I took. It’s the scenery from just outside my window. One day, the lighting was so beautiful and the only way to preserve it is by camera. I took a shot, hoping that I could paint it soon. I like to paint because it’s my hobby; but here I am now, painting because I’m required to. At least I am in a good mood right now, the classroom is empty. So peaceful, it goes with the mood of my painting. In every stroke is calmness like the blue color of the sky. There is balance between the bright shades of green and some darker shades. I like working with quiet atmosphere, until I heard the door opened. “Oh great, someone’s intruding my peace,” I said to myself. So I stopped painting and peeked to see who came in. It’s a lad, a bit bigger than me, but maybe a second year just like me. He carries a lot of books and a thick bundle of paper which I assume is a script. Thankful for my alertness, I could have ruined my painting by startling when he suddenly broke the silence in the room with his clearing of his throat. “That’s a pretty cool thing you have there, lad,” he said. I looked at him, gave him a small smile, and said, “Thank you. Are you a painting enthusiast?”
HUNTER
“More like an art enthusiast, if you’d ask me,” I say with a smile twice as big as his. His precision for detail was remarkable, something I shared but not when it came to making art of my own. The kind of precision I had for detail was better off left in memory. Most likely the reason why I’m not really making an effort to memorize the script I’m supposed to. After having a read at it for a few times, I’m sure I could manage an impromptu not far off the story.
Hello, earth to Hunter, I thought to myself as I snap back to reality and to the boy. “How long have you been into this- pardon my choice of words- shit?” I raise an eyebrow at him, curious to know more about this lad and his natural talent in creating replicas.
WILLIAM
That was a funny choice of word, but I tried not to laugh in front of him because I thought it was rude. Thinking about his question, how did I start painting? Then I remembered The Musicians by Picasso, I was so fascinated on colors and shapes when I was still 6. Yes, one of the paintings that captured my eyes and thoughts was Picasso’s The Musicians. Of course as a child, I was puzzled by the peculiar forms of the musicians. They were made of different shapes, and they don’t look like normal human beings. Out of boredom, I made one for myself and look at it for days, with the odd shapes bugging me. As I grew older, my first work looks like a work of an amateur to me. I made another one; but because of my perfectionist personality, I made many copies of the same art until I’m satisfied. Not knowing that I was already committing forgery at such a young age.
Alright, back to this friendly lad right in front of me. He looks nice, so there’s nothing to lose when I tell him a bit of my life. “Well, as of what I remember, I started painting at 6 years old. But that was child’s painting, and then started serious painting at the age of 8.” I handed him the picture of the scenery I was painting right now. “This is what I’m working on right now. I want you to criticize it for me. I need other people’s opinion,” I said and gave him a smile better than the first one. I think we would get along.
HUNTER
I listen as he tells how he began painting at such a young age. I nod and smile; I could relate to him. I learned playing the guitar around 8, during my days in Mexico. Thinking about it brings back the awful memories that followed, which makes me frown. I clear my throat and focus on the lad’s artwork instead.
“Hmm?” I say, stupefied. “You want my opinion?” I ask in a rather tentative voice, then look at him. His smile was enough to tell me he genuinely meant it, so I look at the painting with more studious eyes. I look back and forth at the painting and the scenery outside. There’s no doubt he got the lighting and shading well, but I notice some minute details and point at the painting where I think he could add more detail to. Like the “…cracks on the sidewalk with the penny in between.” I nod in satisfaction as I take a step back and let him get to his painting. I watch from a safe distance, not wanting to ruin what he’ll do.
WILLIAM
After I told him my story, I didn’t bother to ask him about his past because I saw him frown which is a bad sign. Anyway, I just let him examine my painting since he said that he’s an art enthusiast. Looked at him looking studiously at my painting, I knew he was serious on doing me a favor. He looked at the scenery outside and my painting for several times, and then he pointed out on a part of my painting. He said, “…cracks on the sidewalk with the penny in between.” And he nodded and stepped back for me to work.
He’s right; I have missed out the cracks and the penny. I got my palette and my fine-tipped brush, and mixed a correct shade of gray for the cracks. This is a bit tricky since I have to use the very tip of my brush and the strokes should not be too smooth or too rough. It’s a mixture of rough brushstrokes with little smooth ones. I hope I made it right, so it took minutes before I became satisfied. By the time I finished the cracks, I waited for the paint to dry up a little before painting the penny on it. So I’ll try to stir up a conversation. “When you came in, I saw that you have a bunch of papers. You’re a theater student, am I right?”
HUNTER
I’m impressed at how he takes into account with such precision the details I have mentioned. The painting takes form as the cracks and the penny appear at their rightful places. He moves his brush with such delicacy and elegance, that when he finishes I am no longer surprised how he does it. Still in awe, but not surprised.
“Handy talent you have there, mate,” I grin. Unbeknownst to me, he actually noticed the bulk of papers I carried with me in this room. I nod, speechless for a moment, but quick to recover. “I’m Mathieu,” I almost gave my hand out for a shake, but it reminds me of my uncle’s gestures. I don’t want to be like him. I cringe and pull my hand back, just giving a small grin to the other fellow. A grin both apologetic yet good naturedly friendly.
WILLIAM
When the previous paint I applied finally dried up, I cleaned off the gray paint from my brush and dipped it on the copper paint. I checked the location of the penny, and then I pressed my brush lightly on the canvas. Just paint a little penny between the cracks carefully so I would not ruin my own work. After that, I dipped my paint brush in a jar of turbid gray water. The lad introduced himself as I waited for my painting to dry. His name was Mathieu, it was a nice name but it was oddly-spelled. I was right, he was a theater student. He reached out his hand for a shake, but he withdrew his hand the second I was about to shake his hand. It seemed strange; I was surprised with the gesture. Instead of a handshake, He gave me a grin, both apologetic and friendly.
I just grinned back and said, “My name is William, a visual arts student as you can see. It got me thinking, why do you have a bulk of stuff aside from your script?” Theater arts had been my second choice if I did not pursue visual arts. Based on what I saw earlier, it was not just scripts.
HUNTER
I frown at William, quite disappointed that he reminds me of the papers I brought besides the script. My mother, oh my workaholic mother, has high hopes for me. She wants me to inherit the company that she’d worked so hard on, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I still held a grudge against her for letting me fall into my uncle’s plans. I still carried the papers she gave to me, only because I plan to put them to other uses. Like perhaps a dry run of a heist against one of her competitors? My co-conspirators would be pleased to hear this. We all wanted revenge against my uncle, but we need to practice and work hard. Studying my companion now, he seemed a perfect fit in the gang. Our forger, perhaps. My frown turns upside down.
“Ah, you’re right. They’re not all my scripts. Some are scripts for my co-actors,” I lie fluently, grabbing my only copy of my script and handing it to him. “Say, if you’re none too busy with your arts, maybe you could drop by and audition for a role. We’re lacking staff, and I’m sure you’d do well on stage.” What are you doing? I ask myself. I was making friends, I convince myself and nod, grinning widely at him.
WILLIAM
I saw his frown turned into a smile, it made me wonder what have he thought of. Maybe it was a joke… Then he started to explain about his stacks of paper. I really got interested in what he was doing, I was surprised when he handed me a copy of the script. I was even more surprised when he told me that I could audition for a role in his play, and he looked like he really wanted to tag me along.
I really wanted to join a play, I feel so excited about it. I felt the pessimistic part of me woke up from its slumber again. I frowned while browsing the script. “Uhm… I really don’t think I could do it. First, I have no real talent in acting. Second, this might be exclusively for theater students.” Then self-lecturing came after. Way the go, William. You’re going to blow up another chance of have a new friend and a chance to join a play. Just go to the audition and say no more. I know you really want to go but you’re being a little sissy.
HUNTER
“Any artist has talent. And my dear William,” I put a hand on his shoulder, “You’re damn well an artist with talent.” I don’t what kind of encouragement my words could’ve given him, but I had my fingers crossed it worked. I shook my head, “No, the play’s pretty much open for anyone who attends this school.” I smile a small smile.
WILLIAM
The excited me wants to audition today because if I don’t, I might change my mind again. I suddenly remembered my painting. Yeah, I just have to bring this to the moron and look at his disappointed face. I looked up at the clock inside the room, it’s 3:30 in the afternoon. I think more than an hour would be enough to memorize a part of the script. “I’ll just have to submit my painting now, and I’ll be in the University Theatre later at 5”, I said with a smile, hoping I don’t look like an excited idiot.
HUNTER
I let go of the breath I held. “I can’t believe it,” I thought I had said in my mind, but I’d spoken it aloud. I laughed and patted his shoulder. “Looking forward to seeing you there, mate.” I smile brightly and take the pile of papers I had, leaving him alone to finish his business.
—
10 minutes before 5 pm and the production staff was busy fixing up the stage. “Mathieu, can you check on the auditionees? Let them line up and sign this sheet.” Ms. Gilmore hands me a piece of paper and a pen. I take it and with a nod, head to the seats filled with hopefuls. I didn’t expect there to be more than ten people to join- usually it’s just us acting majors. But I think I saw almost 20 seated people. I hand the paper and pen to the first comer. “Sign and pass it on,” I said then looked for the familiar face of my new acquaintance.
WILLIAM
I nodded and smiled at him in response. “See you later, Mathieu.” Then he left me alone to finish my pending task. I cleaned up and brought my painting up to the Visual Arts faculty room. I peeked slightly inside the room to see the moron was there plus a handful of professors. My works were really loved by other professors that he couldn’t scold me in front of them (because I didn’t fulfill the requirement). Perfect timing. So I went inside the faculty room to submit my painting, and the professors except the moron were happy to see it. The disappointment in his eyes gave me satisfaction all the time.
—
After submitting the painting, I found a quiet place to read the lines for the audition. It’s a drama, I like it. I practiced and practiced until my alarm beeped 15 minutes before 5pm. As I went inside the University Theatre, I saw almost 20 people who are auditioning. I didn’t know most of them, most probably they were Acting or Music majors. Since I wasn’t really an Acting major, I looked around to find Mathieu.
HUNTER
The students pass along the sign up sheet and I let my gaze adrift around the theatre. Right on cue, I spot William just newly arriving. I smiled and walked over to greet him. “I’m glad you made it, mate,” I shook his hand and patted his back. “Didn’t think you’d come, thought you’d choose making those fantastic paintings of yours over this one.” It was how I saw this artist, very dedicated to his work, but I was also right that he did take an interest to acting. It’s quite a surprise, since most of the students from LISPA preferred to focus on their chosen field. Not me though, I liked to explore and it’s nice to meet someone who’s just as adventurous, even in this minute way.
Ms. Gilmore calls out, “Mathieu! Is the sheet complete? We need you back here.”
“I’ll be right there, Ma'am,” I reply loud enough.
“Have a seat, lad,” I lead him to a vacant chair and receive the signup sheet from the last signer. I hand it to William and wait for him to finish. “Thanks,” I grin and take the paper, then run back on stage. “Here you go, Ms. Gilmore.” “Thanks, Mathieu. Now, off to your places.” Every student on stage with me nodded, and we take the seats an aisle across from the auditionees.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this year’s open auditions for LISPA’s Fall Production,” Ms. Gilmore speaks through the microphone and gives everyone a warm, welcoming smile. “We are very happy to have everyone’s support enthusiasm to participate. What you may not know is-” she looks from the other auditionees then to her students, “-everyone, even my students, are required to audition for a role. That means, all roles are up for grabs.” Gasps and surprised looks escape from the group I was settled in. Jovi, my classmate and batch mate snorts, “Freshmen,” he tells me. I just shrug. Jovi’s right, of course. All the upper class men from the Actor’s Guild knew this is how auditions for the Fall Production worked. Nothing new or surprising with the announcement, not for me and all the uppers.
“I hope you’ve all familiarized yourself with the play. You are free to audition for as many roles as you wish, and you’ll be called in random.” Another set of unpleasant groans from the crowd. I smiled. That’s what I liked about our teacher, she was so unpredictable. “First up, Jovi Wallace.” With confidence unlike anyone I’ve seen in LISPA, Jovi got up and took to stage. Ms. Gilmore settled herself on a chair at the side of the stage and gesture her hand for Jovi to begin.
WILLIAM
I found him walking towards me. I shook his hand and patted his back, copying his gesture. I chuckled at his joke and said, “It’s interesting to try some other things as well, you know.” I was about to ask him something when someone called out for him. He led me to a vacant chair and gave me the signup sheet. I filled up some information as fast as I could, then handed it back to Mathieu and said my thanks.
I sat down calmly as the audition was about to start when everyone was informed that the old Theater students will compete with the roles with the new students. So I’m competing with Theater professionals?! That made my hands sweat, my head pumped with adrenaline. I think everything is starting to warp around me with too much adrenaline, I didn’t know how much time had passed until… “Mr. William McCain, Visual Arts major!” I muttered a curse then raised my hand when my name was called. Everyone looked at me with surprise in their faces. Yes, they were surprised to have a second year Visual Arts student in their midst. I stood up from my seat and walked to the stage, looking for Mathieu in the process for some encouragement. I took a deep breath before I start. You can do this, William. Of course you can.
HUNTER
The first set of auditioners were good, but they didn’t really appeal to me. It was too rehearsed, too unreal. That’s what I hated most about my fellow major mates. They separate themselves from the act and do not bother to bring authentic emotion to their acting. I’m even more bothered they get higher grades than I do, but I guess my professors were looking for textbook manufactured actors, not unique artists.
Hearing my newly made friend’s name called was a breath of fresh air opposed to the slight mocking and sneers from everyone else. This judgmental pieces of shit won’t know what’s about to hit ‘em, I smirked. Noticing William’s rather nervous demeanor and searchful eyes, lift my right hand with a thumb up to give him some support and assurance. You can do this, bud, I mouthed with a grin.
What I like most about this class is my professor and his technique. He’s not one of the robotic teachers we have here in the acting division. He understands the importance of feeling just as much as making the audience feel. “A great actor does not bend to the expectations of the audience; a brilliant actor sets the expectation and leaves the audience holding onto their seats, wanting more,” he would always say.
This play, an adaptation of Helen of Troy, was actually my suggestion and he agreed with it. I said the theater needed more classics besides the tantamount contemporaries being displayed these days. The scene I handed out to William was that of Agamemnon, Menelaus’ father. There was something about William’s aura that struck me as regal, steadfast and powerful, just like the one exuded by his artwork. I smile and watch as he was about to begin the exchange of lines with the prompter.
WILLIAM
My new friend was very encouraging, and I was glad that he was there. He gave me a script for the part of Agamemnon of Helen of Troy. I was going to play the role of a powerful Mycenaean commander; his presence must be regal and intimidating. I was required to master such presence, not by a king but a powerful duke who was almost in the level of the king of Ireland. As I took my spot on the stage, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and show them what I took after my father.
I could still feel his slap across my face; it was so hard that I fell on my rears and I could still hear my father’s storming voice. “Are you going to cry, Wilhelm?! Only girls cry! You are not a lady; you are the heir of this family! Stand up!” I scrambled up quickly to my feet before he could get the cane, then he continued lecture while I fixed myself. “Remember, you are my son and you must appear powerful and intimidating like me. I don’t want to hear mockery about me or our family because the family heir is a sissy. Your thing for arts has already made you soft, don’t disappoint me any further.”
‘Don’t disappoint me…’
His words have been stuck in my head up for years. At this moment, I must give my dialogues like the heir of a prestigious family I was. With a voice full and flowing like gold, I said my part:
“Fear not! It is I, Agamemnon who will lead our soldiers to battle and bring the Trojans down on their knees begging for their lives. We will bring back what’s ours, my brother Menelaus’s wife Helen and our glory! We will show them that nobody steals from the Greeks!”
HUNTER
I watch as my newfound friend William took the stage and began to portray his role as Agamemnon. I don't know where he got that amount of genuine rage in his portrayal. It made me wonder what kind of dark past lingered within him. I know I have one, I can feel it deep in my roots, yet despite my good memory, I cannot remember what it was.
By observing my fellow theater classmates, I can tell they share my opinion. William's portrayal clearly blew the chances of anyone else rooting for Agamemnon's part. After he finished delivering his lines, I break the stunned silence with thunderous clap. It was followed by the cheering and clapping of everyone as well. "Excellent job, mate," I told him with a huge smile, patting his back. "The role is all yours, my enemy," he winked. Mathieu was playing the role of Paris, the man that was alleged in unrequited love with Helen, the wife of Agamemnon's brother, Menelaus. With a swift movement, he picked up a sword prop and pointed it toward the other actors in a playful challenge.
"Who dare challenge me and my love for Helen?" His proud posture as the Trojan Prince was on point, but th actress portraying Helen was not amused at his joke time. Kerley (the girl's name) approached Mathieu and threw a cloth at him, that covered most of his upper body. Then she looked over to their professor.
"Why did he have to get the role?" Kerley grumbled. She really wasn't pleased to be partners with Mathieu at all.
Ms. Gilmore replied, "I know Mr. Donovan can be-" she paused to look at the man in question, who was roaming around the stage pretending to be a ghost thanks to Kerley's help with the cloth "-eccentric, but he is a very versatile actor."
"Give him a different role!"
"Aw," Mathieu stopped goofing around with the others who were actually enjoying his antics. He took the cloth off and looked at Kerley. "Kerley, what did I ever do to you?"
"Ugh." Kerley had had enough, stomped her foot, and walked out.
"Damn that curly haired blondie," he shook his head. "Come on William, we're having dinner, my treat." He put an arm around William and lead the way out of the auditorium.
Just a casual night out with friends. Except Hunter’s friends had a different kind of idea for friend: Adelina Belmonte, Princess of Spain.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
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HUNTER
The giddiness that invigorated the youth spread out the club like a virus that cannot be contained. Music blared through the speakers, the song's repetitive lyrics and hypnotic beat capturing the hearts of those that made their way to the dance floor. The strobe lights were all over the place, moving around and flickering every now and then. Mathieu had to put a hand over his eyes just to get a clear sight of where he was going. His friends had already gone ahead of him, and it was difficult to go through the crowd without bumping into drunks, flirts, or both.
"Excuse me," he said politely, which the woman countered in her sickly flirtatious voice. "No problem." All he could was grin slightly before quickly disappearing back into the sea of people.
Thankfully the lights have toned down its crazy running around, making him find the lads and ladies' table. He made his way toward them, and he saw that they've started the party without him. Not that he minded. He was here to have a drink or two, but he would make sure not to get high with them. To him, this was a social experiment, trying to understand what the normal teens considered as fun. Mathieu's definition was rather...uncommon, to say the least. It wasn't too odd; it's just not something most people enjoyed.
Once he'd settled on the couch, a bottle of beer was quickly handed to him.
"So Mathieu, what do you think?" Devon, the tanned, dark-blond gestured his arms around the place, where conveniently 2 women snuggled in. Mathieu's eyes widened as he took a sip from the bottle, "I think Cole's jealous," he said. To the far left, Cole sat glaring at Mathieu, but he shrugged him off.
Devon didn't seem to notice, and gave a hearty laugh, "They were right, you are a kidder." The people from their group-except Cole- chuckled along. Mathieu shook his head, "Ah, but what was really on my mind is, who's the new chick?" He looked over to the lady beside one of Devon's wingwomen, as Mathieu was beside the other.
Devon looked genuinely dumbfounded at Mathieu until he saw that he was serious. "So you've never heard of her? Seen her in the news, perhaps?"
Mathieu shook his head, "What kind of news are we talking about?"
"The kind that made headlines." Devon got his wingwomen to move aside so he could introduce Mathieu to Adelina. "Mathieu, meet Princess Adelina of Spain."
ADELINA
Adelina was not your usual princess. Not that many princess still existed in the world. The whole fairy tail notion of a princess being the most beautiful and polite lady in the land was just old fashioned. Adelina had been a lot like that before. But now, no one would even think of her as a princess if they met her outside the castle.
At the age of 18, Adelina had fallen into bad company, one unfit for a princess, due to the sons of one of the staff in their castle. She had started sneaking off on her own. Experimenting. Meeting new people.
And that was how she had wound up here. Some mutual friends had invited her to a club. No one said that she'd be meeting new people. Not that she minded. Soon after entering the club, she was introduced to a Devon. The man had a women in each arm already as he sat on a booth, looking like he owned the place. Adelina had been quickly introduced to his group members. After a while, she has gotten a beer for herself while chit chatting with a few of Devon's people. No one in particular caught her interest. They were all trying to suck up to her since she was the princess.
It was only after a while that things got interesting. Adelina had been sitting beside one of the women who was hanging of Devon's arm. That's when he walked up. He seemed a little out of place. But he knew Devon. Adelina was pulled out of her conversation, thank goodness as that boring one was killing her, to be introduced to the new guy.
Mathieu. Interesting as well. She rolled her eyes slightly at Devon. "Didn't I tell you to keep that introduction to a low? Do you want paparazzi or my security detail bursting in?" She scoffed before turning her attention back to the new guy. "Mathieu was it? Pleasure. Just call me Adelina. Or Ada. No Princess or anything of that sort. Understand?" She said as she looked at the man. She didn't mind formal tilted when needed. But she was currently on a break and trying to get away from her Royal life. She didn't need publicity that she was out in a club. Her security detail would very likely storm in and take her away if they found out she had snuck out. Again.
HUNTER
"You know me, I can't help it," was Devon's overly self-confident reply. He was going to add more when something caught his attention. He patted Mathieu's back, "All right, chap, I'll leave you to it," and with one wink at the princess he got up and left.
Mathieu waved a salute to Devon before having his attention back at the girl. "Yep, that's me," he smiled and had a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, perhaps from being surprised by the way things had turned out so far tonight. "Understood loud and clear, Ada," he nods. "Lovely name, if I might say so," he adds.
Looking around, taking a sip of beer, he asked casually, "So, how did a girl like you end up here?" It was a pretty straightforward question which he assumed she didn't get much from the people she meet. They might be too busy being a pleaser or something, and that just wasn't how Mathieu rolled. He looked at her, eyebrows raised with a slight grin.
ADELINA
She rolled her eyes at the man who called himself Devon. She did not like him one bit. She wondered how she had gotten into his company. Must have been some mutual friends. She made a slightly face after he turned away. She turned her attention back to the new guy.
"Good." She said with a nod as he called her by her pet name. " Thank you. I find yours lovely as well." She said with a smile as she looked at the man. He wasn't someone she'd expect to see in a bar. Or to be hanging around that Devon guy. Well, that made him more interesting.
She took a sip of her beer from the bottle she was holding before replying to his question. "I wanted out of the castle. I snuck out and met up with a few friends. They in turn got me here saying they'd introduce me to new people. Hence Devon." She said, making another face before taking another sip. "What about you? I didn't peg you as a guy who'd hang around someone like Devon."
HUNTER
He rubbed his chin in thought of her reciprocating his compliment. "I like to think my name as more of...self-explanatory. The reason why is something I'll leave to you as a challange. Do you like a challange, Ada?" He really needed to get a hold of his inquisitive self, as this was not how he intended to spend his night, asking too much questions only to bore his companion.
Alas, the princess was more observant than she let him on. Mathieu had half-guessed the suffocating lifestyle of royalty isn't most ideal, even he can relate to that to a certain extent. When your mom runs a certain car company that the world knows, it is quite a comfort not many people knew that about him. As for the question she had asked him in return, he answered, "Devon thinks the opposite.
"Believe it or not, he may appear as some stereotypical jock slash popular kid who only hangs out with the cool kids, but he believes in variety. I'm what he calls," and he quotes on air, "his 'wild card'." He wiggled his eyebrows before downing his bottle empty.
ADELINA
"Challenge? What kind?" She asked with a small smirk. This had perked her interest. She was not one to back down from a challenge. Her personality and ego made it difficult for her too. She leaned slightly closer to him so she could hear him over the noise of the music and chatting people.
"A wild card huh? I want to see what this wild card has that let Devon accept him into his 'group'" She said with another smirk and a wink. She took another sip of her beer before placing the bottle down on the table in front of them. "Well that's over. Care to get something else to drink?" She asked, gesturing to the bar behind them.
" I am intrigued by you, so sadly, you'll have to spend the night with me." She said, flashing him a smile as she looked at him. " Which is better than being stuck with Devon. At least I assume so." She said with a shrug of her shoulders.
HUNTER
"That's what makes it a challenge, Ada," he winked at her and put his bottle down, loosening up his posture a bit. This night was about to get interesting but for reasons he did not anticipate. Not that he minded hanging out with a princess.
Mathieu gave a chuckle, "I hope not to disappoint then," and tugged on the cuffs of his leather jacket. "Princess, you just read my mind," before he made a wincing expression, remembering he wasn't supposed to call her that. "Blast it, I'm sorry," he spoke as he got up, offering his hand to her. "First drinks' on me." He grinned.
"That doesn't sound so bad," he said with a slight quirk of his lip as they made their way to the bar and settled on the two vacant seats. "Ah. So this is the first time you've met Devon, huh? Not your type?" He snickered, his eyes scanning the place and quickly spots Devon surrounded by women of all sorts. "Not my type either," he shrugged before calling the attention of a bartender. "What will you be having, Ada?"
ADELINA
She chuckled as he fumbled once with her titles before offering to buy the first round. This guy was hilarious. She shook her head. "It's no problem. I don't mind if it is you honestly. It's piss me off if it were Devin though" she said as she slid her arm through his offered one and moved towards the bar with him.
Sliding into the booth, she spotted Devon. Of course he was surrounded by women. She rolled her eyes and turned away, turning her attention back to Mathieu. "Nah. Hadn't met him before. And I don't intent to again after tonight. Not my type at all." She said with a shrug. "I am actually sorta engaged" she said with another shrug of her shoulder. "I'll have a rum an coke then please."
HUNTER
"He has a way with making every word he says annoying, doesn't he," he chuckled, completely agreeing with Adelina on that one. Every time he called Mathieu 'genius', he felt particularly dumber. How Devon makes it sound that way was a mystery he wished to uncover, but Devon wasn't particularly someone Mathieu wanted to get to know much.
"He'd be very disappointed, Ada," he shook his head, clucking his tongue. He always was quite a teasing type, he couldn't help it. But then she brings up the topic of engagement, making Mathieu's eyes widen as he settled beside her. "Engaged? That's quite a fancy word for," he paused quoting his hands in the air for the next phrase: " 'my parents want what's best for me so they plan every fucking detail of my life.' Did I get that right?" he smirked, gesturing the number two to the bartender to make the order 2 of a rum and coke.
ADELINA
"I know. I've never hated the word Princess as much as I do when it comes out of his mouth." She said with another roll of her eyes. Devon just had a way of making you uncomfortable with titles and words you once liked. Ada could never imagine him calling her Princess again without a shiver running up her spine. Stupid Devon.
She let out a small laugh as he mentioned Devon would be disappointed. " Oh, I'm counting on that." She said with a grin as she looked at Mathieu. " And yes. You got that exactly right. They thought I was getting spoiled here and falling into bad company. So they got me engaged to the Prince of England. Who also happens to be 6 years older to me." She said with a groan. " I don't even know the man. How the hell am I supposed to spend the rest of my life with him. Because I know I can't divorce him." She said with another roll of her eyes.
She thanked the bartender as he got them the drinks and quickly drowned a large sip from her glass. For the last 2 years she had been out of control. Drinking, Smoking, Drugs. You name it. She has no idea how she'd clean herself up and move to London. Such a drag.
HUNTER
"Six years?" His eyes widen, although it was more because, "Why a wedding would be a solution to a problem like that, I would never understand. Even if I am pretty smart," he shook his distastefully. If he were a prince, his mother just might be capable of arranging his marriage as well, a thought which bothered him to a point that he might request to be part of a witness protection program just to get away from her. "Yeah, divorce in royal families? Your parents might make you get married to a second husband if that problem arose," he chuckled.
Once the drinks had been served, he took his own glass and just watched Ada. The way she drank, the way she talked earlier, the way she opened up to him. The way everything her life seemed to be out of control, and this was the only thing she had power over- the drinking, the partying, and whatever wild thing she might be up to. It sounded just like his own story, drafted in a different way. 'Cheers to that,' he thought and finally partook of his drink.
ADELINA
"Royal Families strengthen their ties by marriage. Knowing that you have the support of a Royal Family from another country gives yours an advantage." She said as she placed her bottle back on the table. Her eyes glanced at his once before looking around the club. People were dancing away to glory, laughing and stumbling around. While Ada liked partying, she was more used to house parties than clubs. Clubs always made her uncomfortable. Who knew who was in here. But at house parties, you usually knew who you were inviting.
"Oh no, I can't get divorced. My parents wouldn't allow it. Neither would my to be in laws. A divorce just doesn't happen in the Royal world. You have to stay. No matter how unhappy you are " she said with a roll of her eyes.
She knew that for a fact. As a child she had observed her grandparents. Her grandmother never seemed happy,yet she didn't do anything about it. When Ada was older, she had confronted her about it. Her grandmother has shrugged and said that that's the way it. That had left a deep impact on Adelina.
She shook her head, willing those thoughts away. She looked back at Mathieu. Tonight she wouldn't think of anything else. She wanted to spend time with him and get to know him. She was a potentially friendship. And somehow she knew he wasn't acting because he wanted to be friends with a princess, but because he genuinely wanted to be friends.
"So Mathieu, tell me more about yourself." She said as she took another sip. She hadn't heard a lot about him from Devon either. She was curious to say the least.
After taking a new client, Hunter’s spidey senses tingled and lead him to Gotham to find answers. The search lead him to Trinity Quinn, daughter of Joker and Harley Quinn. Whether she cooperates or not in this quest is yet to be determined.
WHERE THE RP IS DONE
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HUNTER
“Senator Timothy Bradshaw, thank you for having me,” Hunter arrived at the Senator’s mansion, wearing one of his least favorite attire: a black Giorgio Armani coat and tie. Add his facial prosthetic to change his appearance and long brown wig tied in a poiny tail to hide his messy curls, his irritation of his getup amassed, but he forced himself to relax. He already missed the comfort of his casual clothes and jacket, but he can’t exactly come unpresentable in front of the renowned New York politician.
“Yes, of course,” the balding fat man Timothy smiled delightfully at Hunter’s presence. “Right this way, Mr. Newton.” he gestured his hand for Hunter to follow. Hunter nods and walks after the senator. Out of habit, he stored information about the surrounding. Plush pillows placed perfectly on a lush velvet couch, faded flower print curtains decorated the windows, the cliche diamond chandelier hung atop. There was nothing in the house that Hunter didn’t already expect, including the 7 cameras scattered from the living room and in the hallway they were passing through, some motion detectors concealed by the window sills and a guard or two posted at every room. Mr. Bradshaw was a cautious man indeed.
Timothy and Hunter arrive by the intricately designed wooden doors which were the fanciest set he’d seen from all the other doors. This must be his office, Hunter thought, such a no-brainer. “If you’ll excuse me,” Mr. Bradshaw grinned and Hunter caught sight of the lock pad beside the door. “Of course,” he grinned and looked away. Timothy typed his pass code and click. Hunter took it his cue to return facing the man. A guard pushed the door open and Timothy walked toward the chair behind his elegant desk. Hunter nodded his thanks to the guard before going inside. The door was shut behind him and he reached the seat across the senator’s.
“I heard you organize the best auctions in town, Hans,” Timothy decided they were immediately down to business. With humble yet undeniable confidence, Hunter nods with a small grin. Timothy bellowed unexpectedly, catching a surprised look from Hunter. “My boy, you a perfect for this job!”
Hunter-or should we say Hans- chuckled slightly. “Why do I have a feeling we are no longer talking about the event?” he adjusted his tie, one of the nonverbals Hunter decided best for this character. The senator regained his composure and looked straight into Hunter’s eyes. Hunter looked right back at them. “They were right, you are a smart lad.”
Here we go, Hunter thought and braced himself, as the real business discussion began.
—
“I don’t trust him,” Hunter said flatly as he removed the wig and prosthetic.
“Duuudee, that’s disgusting!” Titus yelped as he chewed on his pizza.
“Yet you want to accompany Hunter on almost every business dealings,” William spoke bemused at Titus, before looking back at Hunter. “Ah, free at last,” he shook his head to let his curly strands fall back into their rightful, messy place on his head. “Why do you doubt this charity auction?” William asked once Hunter had kept his disguises back to his kit labeled Hans Newton.
“The stuff he’s auctioning, they’re stuck in customs. He said there’s been a mixup, his artifacts were mistaken as smuggled, and stolen among other things.” Hunter said and settled on the couch, taking a slice of pizza for himself. He took a bite and chewed, “I also noticed how nervous he was, but he was a very good liar. And he kept glancing on a photograph framed by his desk. Titus, can you check i-”
“Already ahead of you,” Titus placed his laptop on the table for Hunter and William to see. “Thanks to Dayton’s software, we had access to Senator Bradshaw’s cameras.” He pressed rewind and stopped, hitting slowmo play. “There,” he points on the screen and it zooms in to the framed photograph Hunter referred to.
“It’s his brother,” William said, resolute.
Hunter nods in agreement. It was no secret that the senator had a brother. It was in the file they had all read before taking on this case. The problem was, the brother was already dead. “Whatever the senator’s dirty secret is, it has something to do with his brother,” Hunter said.
“Uhm guys,” Titus cut off William and Hunter’s shared moment of realization. “Guess where the brother’s last residence was.”
“Gotham,” William and Hunter read from the laptop screen at the same time.
“2 months ago?” Hunter furrowed his eyebrows. How was that possible?
“Looks like your smarty pants gut was right again, Mathieu,” Titus mocked and pats Hunter’s back. “I sense something shady and dangerous in our future, lads.” William frowned at Titus then at Hunter, “We’re going to Gotham, aren’t we?” Hunter’s eyes remained fixed on the laptop. Titus and William looked at each other and nodded. Hunter’s engrossment and silence meant yes, they were.
They were going to Gotham to find some answers.
TRINITY
The sound of flesh hitting flesh with a bone-shattering force echoed through the air as the man awoke with shock and pain. The woman, who’s face was mere inches from his now, smirked so wickedly it seeped up into her violet eyes. “Oh good, you’re awake. I thought a nice backhand would do the trick.” The husky, sultry voice drew the man’s attention back to reality. He was clearly in an abandoned warehouse of some sort, far off from anyone who would care if they heard noises, or screams, coming from inside. It was huge, and cold. The smell of the ocean on the air. This woman didn’t seem too concerned with him working out where they were…maybe because she had no intention of him leaving.
She stood up right, her posture perfect, and looked down at him. When the man had lost consciousness it had been a pale, colorfully dressed red headed woman who had hit him. The woman in front of him was her polar opposite. Not only was she tan, but her dark hair contrasted harshly with her eyes. Her outfit was completely leather, pants as well as a fitted vest. It would be an arousing sight if she wasn’t holding such a large blade and looking at him like she wanted to eat him for supper. She was covered in dark tattoos, it seemed every inch of her besides her face. To make matters worse, her eyes seemed to be swirling…as if the color itself was moving.
“Now, Gerald was it?” She asked and the man sputtered a weak response of “Barry.” She smiled, a truly horrifying smile. “Gerald, an annoying little birdie told me that you had some information that I am very much interested in. Do you know what information I’m looking for?” The man shook his head, trembling with fear. She smiled again, the extent of his complete absence of courage was more than just disgusting, it was promising. “I heard you have information regarding an old friend of mine. Some call him Jack-“
“I don’t know anything about him or where he is!” The man shouted suddenly. An instant later a terrible sting filled his leg with pain. She’d sliced the knife right along it faster than a blink. Then her face was in his again and her smile was gone.
“Do not, ever, interrupt me while I’m speaking, Gerald. It’s rude.” The man nodded and she stood upright, smiling yet again. “I know you don’t know where he is. But I do know that you know where his men are, and that they may know where he is. Where they both are.” She looked at the man with an expectant grin, “Who do know who I’m speaking of, don’t you?”
“Y-yes. Miss Qui-“ A finger was pressed against his lips as she moved closer in a seductive sort of motion.
“Yes is enough. Now, tell me, Gerald…love, where are the men of our mutual friend?” She sat down firmly on his leg and he moaned in pain. “I don’t like to ask more than once.”
—
“All he had were dead ends. Roads already traveled.” Trixie was wiping blood off her knife as she walked away from the warehouse district, the smell of smoke in the air. A growl sounded in her mind and she sighed, so very annoyed.
“I didn’t tell ya ta kill him!” She heard, then smirked a much too amused smirk.
“I know babe, that’s why I took care of it. Because you were being an idiot.”
“He was important, Trixie! Someone will notice!” Another growl. Miss Goody Two-shoes was angry.
“That’s why I-“ An explosion sounded behind her and she smiled, “-used Wade’s gift. No one will have a clue what happened to him. Relax.”
“If ya get me locked up in Arkham again, so help me Trixie, I’ll-“
“What?” She asked, amused, “Kill yourself? Fat chance. We’re in this together sister, like it or not.”
“Let me out. Now!” The growl echoed in her head so loudly she stumbled slightly, placing a hand on the wall to brace herself as she grimaced.
“Oh come on, Trin. You never let me out for anything but bloodshed anymore. We have other needs you know. Just because you’ve gone all chastity since-“ The sting was felt by both of them, right in the ticker. How annoying. “Just let me find a man first. One good romp will set us right, maybe even-“
“No. Let me out!” A sigh so heavy oozed from her lips it was as if her soul were leaving her body. Resignation, full resignation. In an instant the tan faded, the tattoos morphed, the hair color bleed and the violet receded from her eyes. Joints cracked and popped as her pale arms reached for the sky, her dark red locks falling into her eyes. “Thank ya.” Her hands roamed over her crimson, satin corset and down her black skirt. straightening them out. “An’ next time, lotion before the leather. You’re tearin’ our skin ta shreds with that shit.” Her soft, smooth voice mumbled, clearly still stuck in the physical relief of being out. A husky laugh echoed in her mind.
“So where to now? Back to the big apple?” The whine mixed with annoyance was clear.
“No, not yet. We’ve still got more business in Gotham, so for now, we’ll go back ta the hotel. Tomorrow night, we’ve got another man ta see.” Trinity sighed, already tired of all these dead ends. Trixie, on the other hand, practically purred with delight. Another night in Gotham meant another night of fun for her. But the bloodshed was taking it’s toll on Trinity. /You’re not your parents,/ the thought floated through her head, to which Trixie chortled.
“No…not yet.”
HUNTER
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Hunter?” Titus shifted uneasily on his seat while he drove. Hunter was busy by the passenger seat, looking through his notes as he scribbled furiously his additional thoughts. His handwriting was jumbled up and the paper filled with scribbles and squiggly lines instead of his ideas. Hunter sighed and leaned back on his seat, instead looking out the window to admire the view. Gotham was just moments away, he could already see from the horizon. “We’ll figure it out,” he replied in a quiet voice as they finally reach the city.
—
The hotel they had reserved was true to its word. The place was well-lit and its decorations simple yet elegant. Hunter almost shrugged as the fancy environment reminded him of his trips with his mother and his uncle. They weren’t his fondest memories. As he and Titus accept the key card from the reception desk, the two with their stuff went to the elevator. The door almost closed, and noticing there was someone inside he called out, “Wait up.” He hit the open button which caused the doors to open. Titus grinned happily and stepped in first, followed by Hunter. He pressed floor number 4. Hunter held onto the straps of his bag and looked around casually.
He couldn’t help observe their other companion. Her hair color was quite an attention stealer. Hah, a thief’s attention is stolen, he thought to himself the corny joke. Titus was obviously just as attracted, even worse than Hunter was. Hunter glared at him, daring him to not do anything. Titus was about to open his mouth to say something witty to impress the girl, perhaps, but Hunter knew it wouldn’t work. Titus returned Hunter’s glare until the ‘ding’ of the elevator sounds. The doors swung open and Hunter grabbed Titus’s arm to save him from the embarrassment. “Nice to meet you too,” Titus forced and waved goodbye to the woman while Hunter dragged him out. So much for saving Titus from embarrassment.
TRINITY
“And why the hell, exactly, are we staying here?” The voice rumbled in her mind as Trinity pulled a suitcase from the back of her emerald green '69 Mustang, the color of the car matched her natural hues perfectly. She shut the trunk and sighed at the annoyance roaming her mind.
“Because I said so, that’s why. Now quit your bitchin’.”
“We have a place in Gotham, already. A glamorous, well-equipped, place. With feather pillows and-”
“An’ every baddie an’ his mother in Gotham who want us dead know where it is, don’t they? I wonder who’s fault that is.” Trinity bit back with annoyance of her own.
Trixie wasn’t the type to show shame, in any form. Instead, her response was something of a…moan. “But you didn’t see him, Trin. He was gorgeous! And fit, and oh god, he was h-”
“What he was, was a spy! Somethin’ I could have told ya if ya hadn’t blocked me out the second ya spotted him.”
A resigned sigh emitted from the voice inside her head, and then silence. Trinity knew well that that meant Trixie was pouting in a corner. She took this as her opportunity to check in with silence in her mind.
—
The man behind the desk arched a brow at her, his fingers pausing over the keyboard as he stared at the woman before him. Ah, that look. Trinity hadn’t missed it in the slightest. It seemed everyone in Gotham knew who she was by face alone. This would have been a good time not to come in as herself, but a girl had to have hope…however hopeless it might be later.
“You said…Smith? Heather Smith?” The man looked at her in utter disbelief.
“Yes, Smith.” Her tone was sharp, but her smile never faltered. “Is there a problem?”
Gulping, the man quickly shook his head and got to work. In a matter of minutes she had the key to the penthouse suite in her hand and she was making her way over to the elevator. She wouldn’t be able to stay more than a night here. The man was terrified of her, yes, but no one in Gotham had even a tiny peck of honor in them. He’d squawk like he was paid for it at the first sign of questioning.
A heavy sigh emitted from her lips as she leaned back against the back wall of the elevator, her suitcase tucked against the wall beside her. When she heard a shout from the lobby as the doors began to close she stretched her leg out, a Converse clad foot interrupting the closure of the doors enough to cause them to open again.
Trinity had been raised for this town. She was a pro at observation, especially while looking completely unfazed. Even with her eyes on the chipped black nails she held in front of her, the glances from the men who entered, and the one man’s smirk, were far from lost on her. Slowly, a smirk of her own crept onto her face. Mentally she was almost daring the man to make a move, curious as to what he thought he could do to catch the attention of a Gotham girl, because it was obvious from the second they entered that they were not from Gotham. Sadly for her, a significant gaze from one of the other men cut him short.
That’s when she chose to glance at the man, curious as to whether is look of warning to the other was a 'were not here for that’ sort of look, or a 'don’t you know who that is’ kind of look. Trinity’s money was on the former. As the doors opened the man she’d held her gaze on forced the other from the elevator and she chuckled at the poor man’s words as they left.
“Ya ought ta listen to that one, sugar.” Trinity said with a tilt of her chin in the direction of the man who held his arm. “This is Gotham, which is precisely why I’m the last person you should be glad ta meet.” Her gaze quickly flitted from man to man, her smirk growing a little wicked. “Too bad for it, really…” Raising a hand to wave her fingers playfully at them, a small wink to the man who’d intended to hit on her, she cooed “Welcome ta Gotham, boys.”
HUNTER
Titus’ mouth was agape, as he only waved goodbye to the woman, not a single dumb word escaping his lips. That’s a good thing, Hunter thought and shrugged. “Did you see the way she looked at me? Ahh,” Titus’ legs felt wobbly and he barely managed to stand, much less walk after Hunter. Too tired from their drive and from glaring at his bud, he just took Titus’ arm and dragged him roughly to their room.
“Ouch,” Titus complained as he rubbed the slight throbbing on his arm. Hunter ignored him as he unlocked the door to their room. The two men made their way inside, and without wasting a second, began to set their stuff up. Titus worked on securing their room, filling it with audio-visual bugs in places no one would think to look. Hunter was on the bed, his laptop pulled out as he began to hack into the hotel security. Consider them paranoid, but it was obvious that they weren’t from the neighborhood. The least they could do was make sure they had eyes in as many places around them as possible, in case someone decided to snoop around and ask why they’re in Gotham in the first place.
Titus wiped an imaginary bead of sweat off his forehead as he placed the seventh and last bug they had allotted for their room. “All done, pal,” he said as he landed beside Hunter with a soft thump. Titus grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. “How’s the hacky pokey dance?” Titus whistled as he flipped through channels. Hunter was almost done, and with a final key, he pressed enter and his screen became filled with live footage of the hotel. “Finished with a pirouette on top,” he grinned in satisfaction as fell flat on his back.
Thoughts of the danger they were going to face swirled in his mind like a tornado. Sure, their lives were always on the line; that comes with the job no doubt. What bothered Hunter most was their lack of information on Gotham, how the city’s system worked and how the people here interacted with each other. They will have to find a resource person, someone they could trust, in the loose sense of the word.
Hunter fished a small piece of paper tucked in his pocket. He read it over and over, as if he hadn’t already memorized it before they came here.
Midnight Delirium.
Two words, which were their sole lead in finding Timothy Bradshaw’s grave and digging up the skeletons that came with it. Something about its name haunted him, but perhaps it was just his paranoia kicking in. And also the tiresome drive they had all day. Hunter glanced at Titus only to find him snoozing quietly. He eased the remote away from his friend’s grip and switched to a local news channel. His mind and body were already weary, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt getting to know more about Gotham. He could use the information for tomorrow endeavor. He sat upright and leaned his back against a pillow, as he allowed himself to be doused in the words of the reporter. “In tonight’s news flash…”
TRINITY
As the doors of the elevator shut Trinity laughed a loud, hearty laugh. Oh, the look on the man’s face: priceless. Even the voice gave a hearty laugh to the way he’d been struck mute. Messing with men would never, ever, get old. For either one of them.
—
With a heavy, relaxed sigh Trinity stepped out of the bathroom, snuggled up in the soft robe with a towel wrapped around her hair. “I don’t give a fuck what ya say 'bout this place, that shower is fuckin’ awesome.” The voice chuckled in response, 'Yeah okay, it was good.’ It agreed.
Trinity plopped down and turned the TV on, mildly curious as to whether or not their earlier adventures would make the news yet. Trinity had hoped not, but Trixie was crossing her fingers for coverage. Her timing couldn’t have been better. Just as she got to the news station the words “Breaking News” flashed onto the screen, and the report began.
“We’ve just been told that an explosion heard in the Warehouse District earlier tonight turned out be some kind of home-made bomb.” The serious yet surprised tone of the woman’s voice caused Trinity to roll her eyes. “Authorities on the scene were witnessed removing a body from the fire, which seems to have been at the center of the explosion.”
The report switched to the male anchor, “There are speculations that this was some kind of suicide-bombing attempt, however the man found is thought to resemble Barry Witshire, a known accomplice of the infamous Joker. Now, neither Joker nor his sidekick, Harley Quinn, have been seen in many years. However, is it possible that this is a signaling of their return? Or, perhaps, could it be the work for their eldest -and only living- daughter, Trinity Quinn?”
“Fuck me!” She shouted, sitting up right and pulling the towel from her hair just as an image of Trinity from her modeling days flashed onto the screen. She had far less tattoos and was only about 18, but it was her all the same. The voice in her head shrieked with laughter, 'OH MY GOD! Did you really look like /that/?! This is priceless!’
The female anchor continued, “Trinity, ex-owner of Stardust Modeling Agency and current club-owner of Midnight Delirium has had her own run-ins with police from a young age. Including a stint in Arkham Asylum following the murder of her sister, from which she earned her release. While Miss Quinn has never been formally accused of any crimes in her adult life, there has been a constant fear from all law enforcement agencies that she may, one day, follow in her parent’s footsteps.”
The male took over again, “The commissioner denied to comment on the events at hand, but did say that there was no evidence to indicate Trinity was in anyway involved, as she hasn’t been seen in Gotham since she moved to New York City.”
Trinity shut the TV off and groaned, chucking the remote at the wall. “I fuckin’ told ya, dammit!” She yelled, to which the voice groaned in annoyance. 'Relax, it’s purely speculation.’ Crossing her arms as she breathed deeply, Trinity shook her head slightly. “Either way, you know what this means.” The voice practically whined, 'Really? Do we have to?’
“I won’t have those fuckers in my club, Trixie! An’ Ed doesn’t have spine enough ta keep 'em out.” Trixie could protest all she wanted, Trinity was settled on it. Trixie wouldn’t have her night out tomorrow after all. Trinity needed to be at her club when the vultures, or worse, came looking for quotes or information. She wouldn’t have cops storming her club, ever.
HUNTER
Hunter paid as much attention to most of the reporter’s words, despite the tiresome journey he and Titus made. He wasn’t the one who drove, but he did stay awake the entire time. He was about to dismiss the news when familiar words hit his ear: Midnight Delirium. He already had the remote at hand, so he quickly turned up the volume. His dazed state was no more; now he was alert as ever.
There were speculations on the return of The Joker and Harley Quinn with regard to the recent explosion, but then another suspect was put on the table. The picture of their daughter Trinity Quinn filled the screens momentarily then it was gone. Hunter felt like he was punched in the gut; he and Titus had just seen the woman on the elevator. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. He grabbed Titus and shook him, but his friend grumbled and pushed his hand away.
“Titus, you have to see this,” Hunter tried to wake him again while his fingers flew across the laptop, researching everything he can about Trinity Quinn. There wasn’t much about her that the reporter hadn’t already told in summary. Further digging lead him to read about the woman’s parents instead. Now that turned up a lot of files which didn’t actually make him confident or comfortable of their presence here in Gotham. 'Why did I have to be such a curious lil’ bastard,’ he thought to himself as he read of horrific crimes done by Trinity’s parents. His fingers were crossed that nothing too extreme greets them by surprise tomorrow.
'Isn’t that the point why you’re researching, Hunter? To be prepared?’
“Ha,” he responds to his inner voice. So much for knowing. All Hunter was sure of now was this place is dangerous. He glanced to his side where Titus slept peacefully, whereas here he was seated with his laptop, deeming how he won’t be able to sleep for tomorrow’s endeavor.
—
“So wait, we’re going clubbing to the hot chick’s place?” Titus was filled with joy and energy.
“Did you forget the part about the explosion and violent murders?” Hunter scoffed at his friend, and immediately Titus was pale. The duo were both cowards, it just so happens Hunter was good at pretending he wasn’t. Titus wasn’t as fortunate. In his dark clothing, he looked like a dead body that was about to die. Exaggerated, yet accurate.
Hunter, on the other hand, in the same dark clothes of a shirt, jeans, shoes and his favorite leather jacket, he put on the calmest expression he could as the cab stopped at their destination: Midnight Delirium. “I feel hella delirious right now, H,” Titus nudged Hunter. Before he could respond, the driver spoke, “That would be $23.50.” Hunter shoved three $10 bills at the driver’s hands. “Keep the change.”
The thieves stepped out of the cab and into a whole new world of unfamiliarity as they made their way inside Trinity Quinn’s territory.
TRINITY
Trinity slept that night, but not well. The anxiety brought on with the idea of cops in her club showed itself in her dreams. Dreams that went from tussles with officers to dark streets littered with dead officers. Only two though, two in particular. The same two over and over, all over the street. It was less a dream and more a memory at that point. Then a wisp of silky blonde hair floated in front of her, an arrogant smirk, and a child-like glimmer in her eye. She tried to reach out for the girl, to stop what was about to happen, but there was no stopping the past.
With the bang of a fired pistol and a scream Trinity sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. The bang was in her mind, the scream however was from her. She only knew because of the raw feeling in her throat. If anyone had been around to witness it, they’d see the pure whiteness to her eyes. Then a husky coo from her mind soothed her. 'It was just a dream, that’s all.’ Trinity released a shuttering gasp and with a single sniffle promptly made her way to the shower. She didn’t care if it was the dark hours of the morning or what that meant for how much sleep she got. She needed a distraction, and her club was going to be it.
—
It was almost as if she hadn’t even been away. She had arrived at the club before anyone else, per usual, and scared the living hell out of Ed by already being there. He thought she was there because of something he’d done. He’s paranoia was hilarious. The hours passed as they got the club ready for yet another busy night and then finally, every thing was right again. Trinity was behind the bar serving drinks (and looking out for cops) and Ed was in the back having a panic attack.
There were hundreds of clubs in Gotham as well as New York, but Midnight Delirium remained in a class of it’s own. It could be the fact that it was something of a hybrid, with both a lounge-like bar area as well as a high-energy dance floor area. Or, it could be the intoxicating energy of the place that promised an opportunity to lose yourself and truly /live/ for once. But most likely it was it’s reputations. The most popularly known reputation was of it being unfriendly to officers. The more underground, and lesser-known one was for it being something of a hot-spot for the elusive and legendary 'meta-humans’. Some still didn’t believe they existed, but if you wanted the chance to meet one, you eventually wound up at Midnight Delirium.
Whatever the reason that brought them in, the club was never short of bodies. Tonight was no exception. The music was loud, the crowd was pulsing, and even Trinity found herself in a sultry/sweet kind of mood. Of course flirting was always part of the job, but enjoying it wasn’t usually. The fact that she’d gotten a few hours into business hours without a single cop-sighting had put her in the good mood. Perhaps her fears were all for naught.
Everything shifted slightly, however, in energy as well as mood when she spotted a pair coming into the club that looked strangely familiar. It took only a moment, however, for her to realize it was the same pair from the elevator the night before. A smirk slid onto her features as the voice in her head chimed in, 'My money is on coincidence.’ Trinity chuckled and spoke under her breath, “Because ya believe it, or because-” The voice interrupted, 'Because I want to bone him.’ Shaking her head Trinity asked, “Which one?” 'Either,’ it replied, then moaned gently, 'or both.’
Trinity made her way to the far end of the bar, the less crowded end. She knew it was no coincidence, and if they were here for her she wanted to know why. “They aren’t here for that, and ya know it.” The voice groaned woefully. 'Are we going to have to kill them?’ Trinity laughed more genuinely this time as she focused her gaze on the pair, her smirk growing slightly as if to call them in like a beacon. “Lets hope not.”
She knew they’d notice her, because she knew they weren’t here to party. They weren’t dressed for it, stood out too much. She waited patiently until they did, and once she had the attention she’d beckon them over with a finger. Sure, it was more than a little seductive of an action, but she was trying to keep up the flirty mood as her facade until she knew what they wanted. She wasn’t sure if they’d fall for it, but she had a feeling she could at least get some information out of the flirt. Even if he needed some…coaxing. When they approached, at last, she slid her teeth along her lower lip and giggled playfully, “Well well, what a surprise. Y'all aren’t stalkin’ me now, are ya?”
HUNTER
Midnight Delirium stuck true to its name. It was unlike any club that Hunter had been to in his life, and that says a lot. Titus, on the other hand, was very drawn to the odd, electric environment which Hunter considered dangerously hypnotic. The pulsing music, bright lights, unfamiliar scents of liquor. Hunter’s keen senses were experiencing massive overload that he struggled to keep his focus. “Who exactly am I looking for,” he murmured under his breath as his eyes go back and forth while keeping 'a leash’ on Titus. “Don’t be stubborn, T, let me focus,” Hunter gritted his teeth.
“But man, this place is the hots. It’s perfect for me! And I know you kinda like it too. What’s the term you use again?” Titus wondered, only to have his attention get caught by the girl from the hotel. “Holy crap.”
Hunter frowned in his contemplation, “Titus, not n-” he glanced to his side only to find his partner walking toward a particular direction. He rushed after him, pushing through the crowd and putting a hand over his eyes just so the lights don’t blind him. When he was closer to Titus, he could now see who his friend was walking toward to. “Oh,” he mouthed and lingered right behind Titus.
“Yes we are,” Titus was the quick respondent, as always. “No, we’re not stalking you,” Hunter countered simply, making Titus look at him with a deer in the headlights expression, “but we are looking for answers and they lead us here. What do you think?” Hunter tilts his head slightly, a lot of thoughts running his head. Not the kind that is probably in Titus’ head right now, but the kind that is considering the presence of the woman. Her features, specifically. There was something vaguely familiar about her that he can’t quite put a finger on.
TRINITY
Trinity grinned at the quick answer of the flirty one. She imagined it would be all too easy, given the opportunity, to get him alone and convince him to spill every single one of his secrets, eagerly. But that was a back pocket kind of idea, a last resort. She did hate being such a tease when there was no intention of follow-through, after all. She was mean, but not heartless. Her gaze switched to the other as he spoke up, clearly the more logical of the two. ‘He’d be a tough nut to crack,’ thought the voice, then it oozed with sensuality as it said, ‘Let me crack him.’ Trinity ignored the voice, as she often did.
The man mentioned a quest for answers and her brow lifted is he said it had led the two to her club. ‘What do you think?’ was a far more loaded question than the man could have imagined. Some of the flirtatious aura about her dissipated as she stood up-right and surveyed the two men. She hadn’t thought too much about their arrival until now, when suddenly she was realizing who they were fishing for. Trinity liked the boys well enough, they were fun, but she wasn’t the kind of fish that was easily hooked. She let the brief silence between his question and her response linger in the air for a moment more. Then, her hands moved behind her back.
“What I think? Well, I think…” She untied her apron and set it down on the counter just behind the bar, “That whatever the two of ya are chasin’, if it led ya here… you’re way out o’ your depth, darlin’.” Such a statement might have sounded condescending, except that there was nothing in that arena displayed in Trinity’s tone. It was more a tone of warning, and perhaps even concern. She turned on her heel and beckoned the two with a finger once again, “Best discussed in my office, I think.” She said as she made her way to the other end of the bar, leaving the men to make there way around through the crowd. She stopped part way by Joe, the other person manning the bar, and whispered something into his ear. He glanced at her, his expression a mixture of many things too intermingled to decipher, then he nodded and went right back to work.
She met the men on the other end of the bar, where she pushed back a deep, crimson colored curtain which revealed a door with a sign that said ‘No Admittance’. She punched in a code to the panel just by the knob and it opened without an effort, with a smile she held it open for them and waited for them to enter before letting it shut behind her. The sound of it re-locking was audible enough to hear at any point in the room. The room itself was quite the contrast to the club. It was an office, made clear by the large oak desk directly in front of them topped with a laptop and various kinds of paper work, all book-keeping sorts of things. To the right the room opened up into a kind of sitting area. There was a lush, leather couch as well as a gaming chair and a beanbag chair, the latter faced a large screen TV mounted on the wall, but didn’t appear to be plugged into anything. The walls were mostly bookshelfs, all filled to the brim. And against the far wall, one of the few open wall spaces, there was two arcade-console. Mrs. Pac-man and Street Fighter.
Trinity walked herself around the desk and plopped down into her lush desk chair, an act that normally would have seemed ungraceful coming off, some how, as elegant. She lifted a glass, half full with a dark liquid, to her ruby lips and raised a hand to indicate that they sit themselves down in the two chairs opposite her. After she sat her glass down, she didn’t even wait for them to get comfortable, she asked, “So, what is it, exactly, that y’all are lookin’ for answers to? And how, pry tell, did that lead ya ta the last place the two o’ you should want to be?” Her smile and tone remained light, and yet still those words hung heavily in the air.
HUNTER
If Hunter would describe the woman in one word, it would be tenacious. Despite playing nice with him and Titus, there was no mistaking that look in her eyes. She was weighing in on the two of them. Bumping into each other once may be coincidence, but stumbling into each other a second time is more than enough to raise suspicion. He was sure he would’ve acted the same way.
His hands remained in his pockets as he kept his silence even after she offered they come meet at her office. He can tell Titus had sensed the gravity of the matter at hand with the way Hunter was treading these waters. They were in unknown territory, and he hated that. He always liked to plan everything ahead, down to the last detail. Right now, his senses tingled, telling him that danger follows him the moment he followed the woman, which Hunter guessed, is the same woman on the news screen last night: Trinity Quinn. No wonder something looked vaguely familiar about her.
Hunter followed her and kept his guard up, whereas Titus was unusually quiet the entire walk to her office. By the time they arrived at the door, she entered a code to unlock it and left the door opened for them. Titus looked at Hunter for assurance, to which Hunter responded with a nod. Titus was in first and Hunter was right behind his friend. Despite the loud party noise outside, this room was quite soundproofed, making the locking of the doors sound all too audible, just right behind him. Judging from his quick scan of the room, he can tell the door was the only way: in and out. They were stuck down here until the endeavor was over.
Hunter kept his eyes trailed on the woman, out of both curiosity and caution. Titus would have preferred this, he knew, but T’s eyes were better off examining the room. At least, that was the plan they agreed upon. Hunter would do a better job of reading her than Titus would. These two men- friends, but now colleagues- were very professional, settling at the vacant seat across that of the woman’s.
“That’s a good question,” T said coolly, leaning back on the seat and diverting his eyes to H. “Tell her.” Hunter pushed his bushy, curly hair back out of habit, before he began tonight’s Face to Face episode. With special guest, Ms. Trinity Quinn.
“Let’s see. We both know my friend has the hots for you, but that’s not the answer I’m looking for.” He glanced at Titus briefly, yet sternly. “Or not the question I’d like to hear either, for that matter.” His full attention was back at Trinity. “I’ll make this short and simple. Timothy Bradshaw, ever heard of him?” He quirked his eyebrows in thought, wondering what she - or her body language - would have to say.
TRINITY
Trinity leaned back in her chair leasuirely, but still with perfect posture as the two collected themselves in preparation of answering her question. She was sure she knew where it was all headed, as it never heads in any other direction, bur her features never betrayed her. That was the benefit of being able to replicate any person, you learn quite a lot about being an actress.
She smirked slightly at the flirty one's cool demeanor that quickly directed the question to his friend. Clearly, he was conceding to the one in charge in this situation, but with the utmost respect, surely. Perhaps his loyalty would have made him harder to crack than she had anticipated. The voice purred at this idea. Her mind was pulled from these thoughts, however, as soon as his curly-haired friend started talking.
She couldn't help letting her smirk grow further as he threw the obvious attraction on the table, and wiped it off just as quickly with a stern glance at his counterpart. "Party pooper," she mumbled softly under her breath, but she knew they both heard it. She really was trying to behave herself, but baiting men was what she did. And worse than that, her other half craved it worse than sex itself. Combine that with her naturally inclination toward flirty, and you've got a recipe for distraction. What did snap her back to task at hand, however, was his question.
There was no stopping it, her facade shattered faster than her innocence had. Her brow lifted, her eyes went slightly wide, and she sat forward so far she was practically on top of the desk. "...what? Ya came here ta ask about Senator Bradshaw?... that's it?... really?"
She surveyed the two for a moment, her features growing neutral as she tried to decide how to process this information. She was seldom wrong about reading situations, and these two had certainly stumped her because she did not see this one coming. Then slowly, and much more darkly, her smirk returned to her features. She set her glass down and brought both elbows onto the desk in front of her to lean in eagerly as she grinned at them. "Well, what would a lil' ol' bar owner know 'bout a Senator that ya two bright, handsome, boys couldn't Google-search to discover?
HUNTER
Hunter observed the woman who was obviously contemplating about what to say next. He had a feeling things were about to get more interesting than the wild ruckus in the dance floor outside the locked doors.
A quick look to Titus and he knew his friend was just waiting on him for them to make progress this evening. It was his gut that wanted to dig deeper, albeit the danger that came with it. Makes him think maybe he should have gone to Gotham by himself instead of bringing Titus along. The expression he saw on the woman's face makes him feel uneasy for his friend's safety. He didn't really mind his own.
"Yeah, of course we tried Google," he went along the woman's sarcasm, feeling his own coming out. "I expected to find something informative. I guess the Senator's lady friends were pretty useful," he pursed his lips in thought, as if daydreaming about the said women, "but it wasn't the kind of use I'm looking for." Hunter shrugged and scanned the woman's face. "You don't happen to be one of those women, hm?" Okay, now he was pushing his luck. He can tell from one look just how dangerous the woman can be when provoked, but his adrenaline junkie self could not resist being a tease. He wasn't a masochist either, since most of the time he ends up getting brutalized. He just enjoyed his mind games and how people couldn't understand his line train of thoughts.
Just like this job with Bradshaw. Other than an overly exposed sex life to the public, he appeared to be a quite a philanthropist by running charitable events to benefit all sorts of people from various causes. If it wasn't for Hunter's observant eyes and sleuthy instinct, along with a failure on the Senator's part, then he and Titus wouldn't be here. Hunter wouldn't have questions, curiosities, which would lead him where he is now.
He didn't mind if he and Trinity would play this game all night long.
