A little 'job' in Ukraine

[Mendelson Shape]

Mendelson leaned on an octagonal red sign, proclaiming ‘Стоп!’ making it creak ominously in the evening light.
He wore the form of a short, heavily-built Ukranian, wearing a long fawn coat over a suit and tie. He had received inspiration for this on his way over, as he passed through the downtown of Simerforopol and had taken on this appearance, even adding a glint of sweat to his balding scalp. This body was weak and unstable, but for the time being, Mendelson could handle it.
Mendelson and Ukraine had found a deep liking for one another. To him, the people were a mix of new and old, their way of dress unique, their cities beautiful. He watched people pass by, wearing anything from brightly colored sashes with baggy pants, to having blue mo-hawks atop their heads. The sidewalks teamed with people in the lunch hour, and although a few cars like his own honked their way through the streets, it was summer, and the people took advantage of it, with taxis and bikes being much more common. Mendelson let it all soak in, and felt the urge to engage one of the passerby, just for fun, but restrained himself, constantly looking back at the note Will had given him. “Don’t screw up.”
Mendelson gaze a wheezy laugh. As if he had to worry. He had all the information he needed, had it all planned out. It was time to blow some minds. If Ukraine is interesting now, he thought, let’s just see it after we pull this off. He glanced at his watches, one set to Canadian time, one set to European time, and one a stopwatch. Will was late on two and a half of them. It was Will who needed to worry about screwing it up if he didn’t show up on time.
Mendelson glanced across the street, above the level of ground traffic, at their potential victim. The United Commercial Bank squatted there, darkened windows set in the concrete frame looking like eyes, daring him to come inside. He grinned at it broadly. Oh, it need not tempt him. He would be there soon. And it would provide a nice zing in his life, a thing he and Will could collaborate on...the perfect robbery.
A taxi raced by, filling the air with the smoky emissions of its diesel engines. Mendelson doubled over coughing, eyes watering under the acrid essence. He would go...if Will showed up in time.

[William Murdoch]

The taxi parked out front of the massive bank and William stepped out, wearing a long brown overcoat. He gazed around as he paid the taximan his fare and moved toward the trunk. He found a large sweaty man hailing him and gave a small internal chuckle. The trunk popped and he pulled from it his violin case and a duffel bag filled with weighty cylindrical containers. His body was heavy with the equipment, but he knew that it would only be for so long.
"Not late," he said, expecting that would be the first thing that Shape remarked on. He seemed to be quite obsessed with time, which is curious considering his unstable nature. Routine didn't exactly seem his thing.
"You'd be surprised to know how fucking hard it is to find these things in a Ukrainian market." He lifted the duffel bag up a few inches, indicating that's what he's referencing.
"We've got a good thirty minutes before closing and..." his speech trailed off as a lovely woman in a beige dress walked by, her dark brown hair seemingly scouting the outskirts of her waist, unable to pass below.

[Mendelson Shape]

“You’d be surprised how hard it is to find these things in a Ukrainian market.” Will said, as he lifted up the bags to show their contents to Mendelson. Mendelson peered into it, spotting the shiny glint of oxygen tanks. “Excellent.” He stared at the hunter with a smile on his face, and threw out his arms. “Do I look suitably convincing?” He deepened his voice and added a thick accent.
The hunter ignored his theatrics, which Mendelson took to mean yes, instead remarking "we've got a good thirty minutes before closing and..." Mendelson was inspecting the oxygen tanks, searching for dents to make sure they were of good quality and feeling their temperature, when his friend trailed off. “Actually, Will, you’re just in time.” He looked up to see his comrade twisting his neck painfully to stare at the retreating form of a woman in a brown dress. An impish smile flitted across Mendelson’s face, at the evidence of Will’s short attention span. I would tell him to focus he ruminated but we do have some time to kill, and of course, this plan is flawless. What’s a few minutes more or less?
He concentrated, mentally flicking through his pages of his human form repertoire, finally settling on a face he had seen in a fashion magazine, Lucire, once. He had noted her eyebrows and sharp jaw, and had memorized her face for future reference. He made use of this now. His form twisted awkwardly, blossoming into that of a tall woman, her visage momentarily blank before the face of the Lucire woman filled it, and long brown hair to complement her green eyes grew from his scalp. Stretching in the now roomy but too short coat and trousers, Mendelson grabbed the heavy bag of oxygen from his friend with ease, and hefting it over his shoulder as though it weighed nothing, grabbed Will’s hand with his own long fingers. Giggling girlishly, eyes fixed on the back of the woman in brown, Mendelson began slipping through the crowd in pursuit. “Come on Will, let’s go have some fun before the event!”

[William Murdoch]

"Actually, Will, you're just in time."
Will made an inattentive but affirmative "mhmm" with a slight nod for good measure. "Good," he said, turning his attention to Mendelson as the woman drifted out of sight. Which is when he realized that the previously chubby and unappealing man before him was shifting and wiping and changing. It was a queer sight to be sure, but he understood the implications. "What the shit are you doing?" he said with a loud whisper. "We're in fucking public." He snapped his head behind himself for a second then looked back. The form before him now was that of a seeming super-model. The body was incredible, but he knew that it was still Shape. He shut his eyes, being that his hands were occupied. "What are you trying to pull, Shape?" But of course, the woman didn't say anything.
Finally, from within the darkness of his inner-eyelids he felt the bag being taken from his shoulder, a warm hand with long, spindly fingers grasping his now free hand, and a songbird voice saying "Come on Will, let's go have some fun before the event!"
Then his eyes were awoken with the blurring of a crowd.
Will didn't like whatever it was that Shape was planning, but he knew at this point that there was nothing he could do about it, so he took a couple of glances at the beaming face as they stole through the crowds.

Will had never been much of a lady's man, generally due to his harsh personality. That didn't mean that he didn't love the look of women, though. All he's ever been is a women-watcher. He'd keep his mental notes from a distance, sometimes putting his hunter skills forward to get some stalking done. It wasn't much, but it was fun to him. There are plenty of hypotheses about why he really can't do well with women, most of which he'd never really care to share with another being. That's how it is, though. His business was his business. Nobody needs to know nothing.

[Mendelson Shape]

Mendelson felt Will follow him as he dragged him along. His pulse quickened, as he quickly stowed the bag of oxygen tanks in a bush, eyes momentarily leaving the woman to mark it’s location. “Hold on, I’ll need to run to catch her” he shrilled, and abruptly picked up Will, breaking into a sprint. He noted Will tensing at this development, and hoped he wouldn’t overreact and try to gut him. It had happened before. Will could be a little touchy at times.
Riding a current of the crowd moving parallel to the woman, Mendelson deftly snatched a bottle of Sandora from a passerby. Ignoring their cries, Mendelson moved on, noting that he had overtaken the woman. He felt some of the Sandora spill on his leg, and put his thumb over the top. He ignored Will’s cursing, and though the exhilaration made him want to transform, he held the desire at bay. That would attract people, perhaps not the kind he would like either.
Even though he had joined forces with Will, Mendelson still felt an acute fear whenever he thought about other hunters that might be out there, what might happen if his name came to their attention. He had been lucky once. Maybe not again. In part, that was why he liked Will so much. Will let him watch the hunters methods, to be better prepared when they moved on his own life. He distinctly recalled a morning at a nice café in France early on in their partnership, when the waiter had slipped something under their table, although at the time he, Mendelson, hadn’t noticed. It was Will who had suggested they leave, much to Mendelson’s surprise. It was here he had begun to respect the sharp intuition of the hunter. A few minutes after leaving the cafe, their table had blown up, killing 3 people that had been sitting across from them. In spite of himself, Mendelson couldn’t help remarking “A friend of yours?” There had been no reply.
Mendelson had felt this same fear then, but Will had been surprisingly calm, and made a few almost empathetic comments. That night at the hotel, Will had left, claiming to need to get some fresh air, and instructing Mendelson to stay in the room. He had returned 3 hours later, at 1 in the morning, cut on his face, his hands bruised, and shot at least once, although he wouldn’t let Mendelson look. He went to bed without comment. They never talked about that night.
Mendelson angled in on the woman, forcing a path through the crowd, laughing softly to himself. He gripped the can of Sandora tightly, preparing to throw it.
But of course, he knew he was far from indebted to the hunter. There had been a particularly dangerous water elemental serial killer they had tracked in the bowls of the Gulag, as part of Will’s end of the bargain. It would fill it’s victims lungs with water, and hang their sopping corpses from the ceiling, until their bodies decayed enough to let the putrid water drip through. Drevlin Klashnix had been its name, and Mendelson remembered his face, water constantly pouring from his white eyes, his face pale and wrinkled by constant exposure to moisture. The eyes had been alien things in a human face, like Mendelson’s own, but the similarity ended there. "Will, do you remeber Drevlin?" Mendelson panted quietly.
They had used the elemental knife, that thing Mendelson had anchored to himself, creeping along slimy, dank corridors, with bloated bodies hanging from the ceiling like overripe fruit.
They were not prepared. And what had happened there would change their partnership forever.