Devow started his protest when he was considered a ‘baby boy’, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on the end of a hook. Jak just closed her eyes, desperately ignoring the conversation that was happening around her. She was a brave woman, a strong and warrior like woman who was use to taking care of herself in just about any situation but right now her mark was threatening to sell her off to this bastard. She definitely got herself into some situations, didn’t she? But there was still a blade tucked into the back of her pants, nestled in the belt. She still had a defence mechanism should they try anything.
Devow growled a little bit and looked between the bodyguard and the agent pretending to be a whore and he spoke sharply in clipped Russian ”Get her out of here. I’ll deal with her later-“ and then he turned back to Mr Creed, once more in English; “Lets continue our business.”
Jak looked back up at the bodyguard, then at the two men. Wetting her lips slowly, she brought her eyes up and watched the pair of them before she moved from her knees, rising to her feet steadily. Ready to be led outside, if they’d finished inspecting her like vultures. ”Lets go, hot stuff she winked at him, continuing with her façade.
Post by Tyrant Creed on Jan 27, 2013 23:58:29 GMT -5
Tyr sighed and shook his head. "No, Mr, Devow. I think not." the hybrid said simply. "I've been waiting on you for..." Tyr checked his watch and realized the man had only kept him waiting for a minute or two. "Forever, it feels like. Now you do the waiting."
The hybrid snapped his fingers at the bodyguard. "You, can stay here. Me and miss... eh, will leave." Tyr began walking towards the door, motioning for the woman to follow. "And oh," the hybrid began, turning back towards Anton. "I do speak Russian." Tyr said simply in the language, the tone of a threat underlining his slightly accented words.
Waiting at the door, face impassive, the hybrid watched the woman closely. People reacted differently to the threat of torture, Tyr knew. But in the end, most reacted more or less the same. He suspected this woman, the alleged whore, would not act much different. The hybrid would enjoy seeing her attempt to run. Tyr almost wished she would try.
Jacqueline closed her eyes; it was the only flicker she allowed on the façade she held so carefully. Her eyes shut up as if her body was shutting down, let him mistake it for a sign that she was afraid, let him see it as a sign of denial. It was neither of these things, but as she knelt in darkness for a moment, closing out the world she took a moment to remind herself of everything in which she was capable. Jak was made for bigger things, she had a promotion coming up, she knew she was being moved from CIA into special branch and the truth of the matter was; she was not scared in this situation. Fate would see her through, one way or the other.
Wetting her lips slowly, she opened her eyes. “No.” She spoke with the softest and most perfectly placed tremble in her voice. “Please mister, I’m a good girl – I do no harm, I work harder, yes?”. She begged, remaining in character, it was the character that would keep her alive. But Jak did not try to run, she did not try to hide, she merely went very still, calculating each move behind the watery look in her eyes.
“Sorry Elsa.” Devow said, “Mr Creed gets what Mr Creed wants, you should’ve been a good girl before.” He smiled, that bastard smiled as he let the well groomed business man solve his little CIA problem for him. To Devow, this was somewhat perfect.
Post by Long Richardson on Feb 7, 2013 9:29:00 GMT -5
Long stood and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face. He nodded towards Anton, a passive look upon his face. "I am sorry, Anton, but our contract is terminated as of now. I will need payment for my services up to this moment." His face held eyes as cold and hard as steel as he looked at Anton, daring him to say something back. Content that Devow wasn't going to reply when the male looked away silently with an infuriated expression on his face, Long turned back around.
He lightly grabbed the female by her elbow and guided her to the door with him. Nearing the well dressed man standing in the doorway, Long nodded to him, "Excuse me, but I'll be taking her with me now," and moved to walk past him.
Once more the bodyguard stepped in and once more, Jak was somewhat thankful for it. He grabbed her by the elbow and pretty much dragged her out of there to the sound of Devow chuckling away to himself. It would ruin her mission but at least she would still be alive. She would come back for Devow, they both knew that much and it would satisfy Jak to think of him always watching his back. Who knows, the anxiety may turn him into a more experienced criminal? As they strutted back out into the main warehouse she didn’t try and shake him off her, it looked like he was following orders, it looked like he was treating her roughly and once more she kept her façade and lived up to such rough treatment. Truth was Jak had lived through worse and would again, no doubt.
Once they were alone, away from both the hot-shots and the rodents of the organisation and once more back out onto the snowy streets she shook her arm free of him and looked at him cautiously. He was unassuming to look at, ill-fitting with this place, but not the sort of man you would double-cross in a hurry. Together they looked something of a pair, because Jak, in her anti-feminine way looked boyish, rogue like and square in her features. “Thanks.” She muttered, straightening her clothes and taking the knife from her belt.
It felt like so long ago that she had stolen the knife from the guard in the café. “You didn’t need to do that. But thanks.” She told him, wondering privately what he would do now.
Post by Tyrant Creed on Feb 21, 2013 20:05:04 GMT -5
Tyr just glared at Anton for several moments before snorting in disgust and turning away. Looking around, the hybrid realized the whore and the bodyguard were gone. Amusing. Perhaps he would kill them both. The girl, because he was frustrated, and the guard, because he was attempting to steal something of his. Unacceptable, of course.
"10k, American, per shipment. You already know the details." Tyr made sure his appearance was in order, reaching one hand back to run through his hair before heading through the door. As it closed, his voice sounded one more time. "I will have a man bring by the down payment tomorrow."
Once outside, Tyr spoke briefly with his men. They had indeed heard it all, even having sent two runners to catch up with the man who had attempted to sneak off with the hybrid's property.
Once having been led to the two, Tyr dismissed his men and called out to them. "Sir," his voice was condescending and snide "I believe you have something of mine." If the bodyguard handed over the woman now, the hybrid would probably let him live. But then again, if he didn't, Tyr still might let him live. He hadn't yet decided if it was worth his time to kill them both, as the bodyguard was likely quite formidable.
The little voice in her head announced a sarcastic ‘Great’ and went back to being even less helpful as she watched Creed stalk towards them. His voice in the air was disconcerting, it was a little intimidating and Jak was beginning to get the feeling that there was more here than what appeared on the surface. She had no idea what, but there was something itching in the back of her mind.
Her eyes went to the bodyguard and Jak gave him a tight lipped smile; now what? She had the knife in her hands now, of course, having taken it from the back of her belt. She was not dressed like a whore and now she was wielding a knife stolen from one of the other bodyguards belonging to Anton. It was a pretty blade, with a leather handle and some sort of dragon in metal plating. It was not the sort of knife a hooker had, nor-with the way she held it so casually- did she appear to be a hooker as she held it.
Regardless, she did not wish to aggravate the situation further and merely bent to tuck it into her army grade boots.
”Look, I don’t really feel like belonging to anyone today-“ She spoke relatively softly, lost all Russian from her accent and gave the arms dealer a smile. “how about we just leave this here, go about our separate ways and hope we never meet again.”
