Post by Antonia Darkpine on Dec 1, 2012 21:32:51 GMT -5
Antonia looked up at the massive building with mixed feelings. She hadn’t been there for almost two decades. As far as she knew her Uncle Viktor still owned it. She slightly remembered her short time in the mansion. She knew that her father was going to inherit the family fortune but because of who her mother was he was disinherited. She stood at the gate glowering at the mansion. She cracked the gate making it creak loudly. The driveway was longer then she expected it to be. When she finally reached the door it loomed high over her. She rang the bell and waited. She didn’t expect a quick answer but almost immediately a maid answered the door.
The maid looked her over once “The master isn’t taking visitors.” She said in a thick Russian accent. She started to shut door when Antonia put her foot in the door. In perfect Russian “You might want to ask names first next time girl. I am Lord Darkpine’s niece.” The maid looked shocked for a moment. “I… I’m so sorry mistress.” She said bowing to Antonia motioning her into front entrance. Antonia walked in and waited for her uncle. She inspected the walls and saw the multitude of swords and knives. She turned to see Viktor walking down the elegant spiral staircase staring at his niece the whole time.
“Antonia it’s been a very long time. You were only a toddler when I last saw you. What are you doing here?” He spoke with an emotionless face. Antonia felt weird doing it but she curtsied to her uncle while wearing jeans.
“I’m here on business Uncle.” She watched him carefully as he moved towards the weapons. “I need a place to stay until my business is finished.” She hoped it wouldn’t take drastic measures to be able to stay.
Her uncle nodded “Anything for my only niece.” He finally said with a smile. He held out his arms for her. Antonia went up to him and hugged him. “Katrina will show you to your room.” After being shown her room, Antonia decided to go into St. Petersburg and stalk her mark.
Jacqueline was still in Russia. She had been following a mark for several days now and had been getting use to the cold climate of this frozen world. The man she had been following had been moving around from city to city, meeting with people and then moving on. She did not have enough information to bring him under arrest yet, but Jak had taken her stalking to a further level. He was contacting her now, instead of the other way around. He believed her to be a business woman, interested in the items he had for sale. That…well, it was a beautiful sense of irony and she rather enjoyed the dedicated twist she placed on her work. This being her last job as a single agent there was also the chance that Jak was drawing it out, just to enjoy it further.
Tonight, however, was the night she made her move. She had received a deadline and she had to get her mark back into America before sunset on Sunday or she was off the case. Jak had no intention of ballsing up her last job, so it was important that she make her move tonight.
She was sat in a coffee shop watching the snow out of the window as she waited. Anton Devow was across the street. He was a tall, handsome man with dark shiny hair. In another world he would be the perfect husband, a brave, bold man who was willing to give up anything for his right to freedom. Unfortunately he broken several laws and had hindered the security of the Whitehouse by selling the blue print plans online. Jak watched him cross the road heading towards the door of the coffee shop. She watched as he pushed the door open and the bell jingled and she watched as he pulled back the hood of his coat to reveal short, cropped blond hair…
Wait…what?
Jak blinked and frowned to herself. This was not her man. Had she lost him? No…impossible.
Her eyes went back out into the street in time to see a motorbike skid away down the icy road. A decoy. Anton Devow knew more than he liked to let on.
Jak swore under her breath as the big, burly blond slid into the booth next to her, she paused, eyes narrowing as she the tip of a cold knife press into her ribs. “You will be coming with me now.” He said, in a thick Russian accent. His English was appalling and it made her roll her eyes
She sighed, shaking her head. “Really? You honestly think that? Did you hit every branch on the stupid tree?” She drooled sarcastically, but she felt the knife press tighter against the material of her shirt, knew the tip had cut into her skin scratching at the surface.
“Alright, alright.” She grumbled. “But can I finish my coffee first?”
Post by Antonia Darkpine on Dec 4, 2012 6:50:36 GMT -5
Antonia felt mentally exhausted while her body was rearing to keep going. She had been out in St. Petersburg all day searching for her mark. Sitting on a bench she looked at the file once again. She had the text nearly memorized along with the picture. It was a shot taken without his knowledge. His sunglasses hid his eyes but the file told her they were green. His dark hair always seemed messily styled. He was a broad man and was well toned under hid custom fit jacket. He had rich tastes by the photo of him in an expensive Armani suit, also custom fit by the looks of it. Even his name sounded rich to her, Ivan Darkov. She wracked her brain trying to find places he would be. She couldn't think of any wheres else to search for him. She decided to check a few more places that seemed too quaint for him. She checked the small market and restaurant but saw no sign of him. She sighed to herself almost ready to give up. Suddenly she spotted someone not far off that looked identical to Ivan. Her confidence spiked as she got closer, she was sure it was him. She moved even closer then cursed herself. It wasn't Ivan just someone that looked terrifyingly similar to him. She found herself near a coffee shop and decided to treat herself. She walked in and looked around. she spotted a small table in the corner and started to find her way to it. But something caught her eye, a pretty woman sitting with a burly blonde man. She wasn't sure why but it made her feel... off. Hoping she was doing the right thing she changed her course to the girls table. When she got closer she noticed the shine of metal near the girl's ribs. he spoke with a Spanish accent hoping to throw off the blonde. "Laura? Dios mio I've been looking for you every where. Where did you go amiga?" She tried to give her a significant look letting her know that she was trying to help without tipping off the blonde.
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 4, 2012 19:18:48 GMT -5
Long hated this job. He hated Russian weather, Russian politicians, Russian traffic, Russian fighters, and most definitely Russian muscle-heads like this blond that he was practically babysitting. Long watched him sit down beside the girl that had been following his employer, Anton Devow, after telling him that he was going to 'Convince her to ccome with us.' Long knew that whatever he was going to do would probably end up with him having to kill at least one person in the cafe, giving him a headache, and having a cut in his pay. Too much trouble for a Russian job.
The half-Chinese male settled into his seat and ordered a coffee in faulty Russian as another female walked into the cafe and approached the table, spouting some half-obvious nonsense. The female's name was Jacqueline, not Laura... A fact he had picked up from Anton. However, this was not his problem; he was simply getting payed to protect Anton's life. Bodyguarding was something Long was used to, and he did not want to get caught up in this any further than being a bodyguard.
Enjoying the interesting change of events Jak didn’t get to finish her coffee as a redhead came to join them at the table. Her eyebrow lifted just slightly, its perfect sculpture questioning the young girl momentarily as she started talking with a Spanish accent. The girl was providing Jak with a way out, an interesting one, at least.
The felt the knife press into her skin and winced as it sliced her skin. It was a clear instruction. ‘Get rid of your friend’. Only the girl wasn’t her friend and she had no interest in making friends today. Still, it wouldn’t be human of her to ditch the girl and not take her up on the offer of help.
“Ola, Margareta.” She greeted her ‘friend’, matching the Spanish accent tone for tone; after all Jak worked for the CIA as a spy- acting and lying came hand in hand as part of her job. It was part of her ability to stay under cover and hidden. “Yo quería un café caliente “ ”I wanted a hot coffee” She added, well if they were going for Spanish they may as well go the whole hog. She did not know if the girl would understand what she said, but it was more than just a statement, it was a clear suggestion of what was to happen next.
Hot of course was the operative word here. On the table in front of her was just that, a coffee cup. In a fiercely fast move Jak reached out and knocked the cup sideways. It tumbled from the edge of the table and landed in the decoy’s lap. It was cute really, the way in which he screamed his blond fat head off in surprise. The knife moved away from her ribs and Jak moved in. She straddled his lap, pinning his free arm with her knee at an awkward angel against the booth seats. Her other knee pressed dangerously into his crotch as her hands clasped around his wrist, holding the metal knife against the man’s throat.
They paused. Suspended in time.
The girl had provided the perfect distraction, for with Jak was grateful...
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 8, 2012 15:28:37 GMT -5
Long kept his eye on the new girl as he sipped the horrible coffee, wondering what the hell kind of a complication would ensue. He was so intent on keeping his eye on her that he almost missed the female's hand dart out at the steaming hot cup of coffee on the table before her. His eyes, trained to pick up fast movements, instantly sped up their visual receiving time and he watched her hand move as if she were casually reaching for the cup. As she pulled the cup back into the blond-haired idiots lap, Long stood and began his approach to the table where the conflict arouse from.
Reaching the table from behind the viewpoint of those involved, Long reached out his hand and placed it on the shoulder of the short-haired female who was now straddling his charge. He eyed her knee in a dangerous position on the man's lower body before speaking to her in a low tone. "Look, I hate blondy as much as you... But you killing him here, well killing him at all, actually, would create a problem for me. If you would be so kind as to come with us without creating a fuss," the male glanced in the red-haired female's direction, "And loose the company, I would be really grateful."
She didn’t move from her position even as the man spoke in her ear. A body guard? She hadn’t seen that coming; frustrated Jacqueline didn’t want to make this situation worse. She definitely didn’t want to get the redhead caught up into something; she had no idea of the girl’s capabilities and did not want to get an innocent killed. That was never her intention. Pressing the knife closer she realised that people around them were staring the Russian police were another agency Jak had no intention of getting involved with. She could’ve killed the man, easily. It was not her wish to do so, so the interruption from the man gave her even more of a reason to pause.
Wetting her lips she slid the blade from the blond’s hand, breaking his fingers as she did so. He yelled in pain and spat at her as she slid back from his lap, perching on the table. Her foot planted firmly in his groin and again he grunted in pain. She moved to her feet, brushed down her clothes and turned to look at the Asian. ”Fuss is my middle name.” She told him in her New York accent, a smirk lining her lips as his charge doubled over in pain. Playfully she tucked the stolen knife into the back of her trousers.
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 8, 2012 16:37:28 GMT -5
The half-Chinese male watched the female break his charge's fingers without blinking; he was expecting her to do worse before relenting. She obviously had enough common sense to stop, no matter what her reasons for stopping where she did. Honestly, this was a blessing; it would get him out of Russia sooner.
Long backhanded the blond male before the other had a chance to even realize that his hand was moving. In a cold, detached tone, he addressed the male while ignoring the girl's jocular statement. "First off, stop screaming like a little girl all the time. You make yourself look incredibly weak, screaming just because of some hot coffee, or getting a few fingers broken. Pathetic, the male practically spit the last word before continuing his lecture to the dolt. "Secondly, you do not spit on a lady. It is not only rude and immature, but it is also an insult to your own mother to have such bad manners with women. And lastly, stop being such a moron. You cannot solve all of your problems with some damn third-rate knife... At least try to do something useful once in a while." The male then turned back to the female, catching her slipping the knife into her back pocket in his peripheral vision, but not caring. He grabbed her firmly, but not harshly, by the shoulder and pulled her to him. "You shall now come with us," he said before looking her dead into the eye so that she could see the seriousness in his next statement. "If you try to do anything that conflicts with my bringing you to Anton, I will not hesitate to kill you myself."
On the contrary, Jacqueline wasn’t held back by common sense, it was not the people in the little café watching them or the fact that she felt threatened by the body guard; it was simply a need of learning lessons. If, for example, one was to place a child in a room with one red toy and two green ones; and every time the child went to play with the red toy it received a slap, the child would soon associate the red toy and pain and would no longer look to play with the red toy. By breaking the blond decoy’s fingers Jak had taught him a valuable lesson without having to over-compensate on her end or work load, there was no point in beating the lesson into him when a simple slap would suffice – or in this scenario a couple of broken fingers and a heel to the groin.
She ran her fingers over the soft material of her cotton suit and ran her fingers through her short cropped hair as she watched. Of course her freedom of expression did not last long and Jak tensed as she was grabbed by the bodyguard. “Get your hands off me, jackass.” She warned him, in a low growl, her eyes dark spheres seeming to penetrate into his very soul. “I can walk by my self.” She told him, not objecting to going with them. Going with them would get her closer to her mark, it would stop her having to sit in the snow and wait until he appeared on her radar again. Heck, this killed two birds with one stone.
But her eyes glanced back to the girl who had tired to step in and rescue her. Jacequline did not want to drag an innocent into this, but she had a sneaky suspicion that the redhead knew more than she was letting on. Her eyes, dark, ovals flickered to the table where she had been previously sat. There, Jak had dropped her phone. She had let it skittle under the seat with no intention of her picking it up. On it was a GPS tracker, where-ever Jak was being taken, the girl would be able to follow…or Jak’s agency, should she become troubled by her mission.
[[Long please ignore the tracker, I've left it as a way for Antonia to rejoin the thread...she started it, and while the board rules allow us to skip her after three days..I feel she should be left with a way of catching up to us later...should she want to : ): ) Thanks in advance!]]
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 10, 2012 18:19:12 GMT -5
The male's face retained its impassivity as the female so rudely referred to him as a jackass, though he had been nothing but patient so far. It was honestly quite a bother. The male instead put on a kind smile and said in a casual tone, "That is quite a feat." The male had no doubt that she had some ulterior motive with following him, a theory strengthened by the fact that she had slipped the knife into her back pocket. Anton had said that this woman was a threat to his 'operation,' whatever that was... However, paying for a psuedo-international bodyguard hinted at him being more worried about his life than his business. And since he seemed to have some form of fear that this woman was a threat, Long guessed that she had been sent to assassinate him, especially after seeing what she had done to the blond a few moments ago.
Long noticed the 'threat' look back at the other female as he began to walk towards the cafe door, leaving a wad of rubles on the table where he had sat, calling out "Prastee meeynya" to the staff before opening the door and letting the blond go out before him. He watched the female's movements intently, like a tiger sizing up another in its territory.
Jacqueline gave him something of a smug smirk, ran her fingers through her cropped hair and gave him a piercing look. She was a terrifying woman, formidable in many ways. Slipping out of the café and into the road she looked up and down the street, her eyes searching the snow.
She wondered momentarily how they had known about her; her idea was not to make anyone aware that she was following a mark; she was using a fake ID and she was staying in the shadows. Still, there was nothing she could do now; they knew about her. Part of her job was being adaptable, being cautious was not a part of adaptable, and no it was all about thinking on her feet and being ready for everything. It meant not having a plan and being able to spontaneously interact with any situation that may arise.
She touched the small dip in her back, feeling the handle of the knife against her shirt, and smirked to herself. It was not the only weapon she was carrying. Jak was very rarely unarmed. She didn’t go food shopping without some sort of weapon on her person.
“Does your boss know what he’s dealing with?” Jak asked, casually, awaiting further instruction from the bodyguard.
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 13, 2012 20:24:00 GMT -5
Long sighed to himself within his head as he dug into his pockets and pulled out his gloves, slipping them onto his hands. Seeing the golden Chinese dragon etched into the back of each black glove, and feeling the added weight of the steel knuckles on them, Long was reminded of his time in illegal fighting rings, where he had taken a few lives. It had been a dangerous, emotional period of his life, trying to figure out what to do with his life without his mother... And it hadn't led him on a path to anywhere good nor productive. Look at him, in Russia guarding some guy who was obviously into illegal dealings. How long could Long continue to fool himself into thinking that what his clients did had nothing to do with him? He was as guilty for not doing anything to stop them as they were for their own actions.
A breeze brought a new stab of cold into the male's bones, and brought him back out of his thoughts. He looked back behind him at the female following close behind him... She was kind of cute, in a rough-edged sort of way. Before those sorts of distracting thoughts could creep their way into his head, she asked a question that almost caught Long off-guard, 'Does your boss know what he's dealing with?'
Instead of putting on his tough-guy facade, Long answered the question in complete truth. He knew that putting up some mask would be useless with this female. "From what I've seen of you... No, I don't think he does." The male gestured for blondy to go on ahead of them as he slowed down and spoke in a low voice to the female, somehow feeling that he could tell her what was on his mind. "Look, I'm tired of this... So you can go ahead and do whatever you want. I know you've been sent here by some organization, or person, or something... I've got nothing to do with you, so I'm going to go ahead and turn a blind eye..." In the male's eyes was a sort of weariness, as though he was tired of more than just the job... As though he had finally realized that he had no point to his life.
"From what I've seen of you... No, I don't think he does."
That alone made Jacqueline smile; it gave her something of an edge. Her fingers ran over her clothes, over the thick colour of her coat as she pulled the hood up over her short cropped hair. It was interesting to her that he seemed to answer completely truthfully; it was interesting because many people in the criminal world did not even know what the truth was. In this instance it taught her that he was not a criminal, he was not the sort of man; as far as she was concerned, who was seeking to cause corruption and deceit. It also said, on so many levels, that he was complimenting her. She saw it as an understanding that he knew she had skills; he was concerned about what he had seen when she had broken the blond’s fingers without blinking an eyelid.
"Look, I'm tired of this... So you can go ahead and do whatever you want. I know you've been sent here by some organization, or person, or something... I've got nothing to do with you, so I'm going to go ahead and turn a blind eye..."
“Do whatever I want?” Jak’s eyebrows rose with complete amusement. “Oh, that’s a dangerously delicious thing to say.” She told him; “No, dear, you’re not being a very good bodyguard are you? I suggest you do as you have been hired to do; take me to your boss and his headquarters- and if you want to make this more interesting you can handcuff me” Jak winked at him playfully, running her tongue over her low lip, the ring there sparkling enticingly.
Post by Long Richardson on Dec 16, 2012 14:27:00 GMT -5
Long laughed a little as the female suggested that he handcuff her. Even if he had handcuffs on him, he wouldn't have done it... It would make fighting her less fun than it would be. The male looked at her with a cocked eyebrow before walking ahead once more, "No handcuffs. You'd probably like that." It was humorous that she was telling him to carry on with his job as a bodyguard after he had allowed her the chance to carry out her mission without obstruction. Maybe she wanted a fight? Was this girl one of those masochistic types that had so often come up to him after a fight, in their skimpy outfits and the piercings adorning nearly every open piece of skin on their bodies. Well, this one wasn't that extreme...
Oh well, no matter what type of woman she was, it looked like he'd have to fight her in a few moments. After watching her break blondy's fingers with no hint of any form of hesitation, he knew this girl was a warrior; he would not be able to underestimate her.
As long pulled up to a steel door on the backside of an abandoned warehouse building only a few minutes from the cafe where they had come across the woman, Long couldn't help but think of how cliche this 'hideout' was. Oh well, time to see what would happen next on this eventful day. The male reached out and turned the handle on the unlocked door, pushing it open slightly before turning back to the woman. "Ladies first?"
Jacquline smiled at him, with another wink and walked into the warehouse passed him. It was a large cold building inside, there was a trash can burning in the corner and several men gathered around it, as Jak moved forwards into the room the blond came alongside her and shoved passed her. Jak let herself stumble slightly; she let the rouse come off that they had caught her off guard. The men around the can came forwards, and guns were drawn, centred for the girl’s heart-shaped face. “Well isn’t this a party?” She murmured to herself.
They spoke quickly in Russian, but Jak understood each word;
“What happened to you?”
“Bitch broke my fingers.”
“You were meant to bring her here, not be beaten up by her.”
“Shut up, she’s a wild whore.”
They came in closer, trudging their feet and giving her glaring eyes. Still Jak smiled at them and stepped back; coming into the chest of another big man. Anton Devow really did like to surround himself with big Russian men, was he part of the mafia out here?
