You lookin' to go another round? {Tag: Svetlana}

He looked like a man in thought. A dangerous beast, to be sure but because she had not been born with the ability to read minds, Lana could only guess at what wild ideas ran rampant through his head. She didn’t have to wait long though before his thoughts were spilling out of his mouth; ideas for the entertainment that they were both seeking. She was rather curious to know what he would come up with. How did a werelion amuse a werewolf? Suppose the age old stereotype of dogs versus cats was not true. She had no urge to chase Malik up the nearest tree, barking mad. Lana could play nice when occasion called and it did not come calling often.

Get drunk or…wrastle… She left her two Colts lying on the table and returned to the hotel room, sealing the armory door behind herself as she did. Of the two options, she didn’t know which one sounded the safest. Lana had never before drank so much that her mind had been affected by alcohol…nor had she ‘wrastled’ anyone outside of her training at Chernobyl. Then it had been strictly for the purposes of training, not entertainment. Neither of them seemed like the lesser of two evils because they were both followed by a certain amount of uncertainty. Him being male and her female; both of them attracted to the other on some level; both of them unattached; and one of them just curious enough to give into temptation.

“What happens when we run out of vodka?” Taking the bottle from him, Lana spun the single chair in the room around so that it faced the direction of the closet. Into it she dropped and kicked out of her boots; wiggling clean toes inside of black socks. Propping her feet up on the bed, with the vodka resting on the table beside her, she placed her elbows on the chair arms and steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “Liver; between ribs eight and nine.”

It was a good question she posed to him. A drinking game was only fun while you had alcohol to drink. There was water from the tap, but that wouldn’t keep the party going. The answer didn’t require much thought because Malik was always aware of his surroundings. ”You have a minibar right? It is a hotel room after all.“ he said and started to look around at the usual hiding places for the tiny bottles of liquor that hotel staff counted, and then billed astronomical amounts for. They had to be here somewhere. ”If they keep an army like that fully stocked, there’s gotta be a minibar. “ Malik finally found his prey hidden in a cabinet on the other side of the room. The door mounted shelves were stocked with glassware, and inside where rows upon rows of tiny bottles of every brand that put their brew in tiny bottles. ”Found it!“ he said with slight laughter in his voice.

”I don’t think Umbra will even notice if you drink any of them.“ Malik turned around to see Lana kicking off her boots and wiggling her toes as she got comfortable. It was the only thing that she had done since he met her that could be considered cute. Maybe cute was going too far. It was the only thing she had done that didn’t have some undercurrent of danger to it. It was like seeing snow in the depths of summer. Only the Enlightenment had thrown the world into such a chaotic state that it had happened. The impossible wasn’t so improbable it seemed, and the world didn’t have to be ending for it to happen. The sound of her voice marking out the shot that he had to make brought Malik out of his quiet moment of disbelief.

He walked over to where he set the pile of throwing knives, and picked one up. Without thinking about what he was doing, he tested the weight and balance of the blade in his hand. He knew it was going to be perfectly balanced, but he needed to know where its center was. That would determine how he threw it, while the weight determined how much strength he would put behind it. Unconsciously he made the calculations and told his body what was needed. His eyes had turned to the vest hanging on the closet door. It was a complex shot, she was going for specifics right away. He was going to enjoy the challenge tonight. The height of the vest would make the shot slightly more difficult but he could handle it.

Malik’s arm crossed over his body for the wind up and then with a smooth exhale he delivered. A smooth moving across his body was the best way to throw. His fingers were holding the throwing dagger by the point between the tips of the thumb and index. At the apex of the arc, Malik released the tension between them and the dull finished blade slipped from his grasp like lightening being released. The strike was a dull think that reverberated in the wood of the door for a moment. The dagger was sticking out on the vest’s right side, Malik’s left so that it was properly oriented for the organ. It was angled inward towards the spine so that it wouldn’t be a glancing blow and knick the liver, it was meant to penetrate. It was a perfect throw.

Not perfect enough however, because he was taking the bottle off of the table and not handing it to her. He spun the cap off, and raised it to his lips for a healthy swig. Malik placed the bottle down and then glared at his shot as if there was something wrong with it. ”The blade isn’t perfectly horizontal. Eight and nine are closer together than the others, and that might have gotten wedged between them.“ Malik knew his target well, and he knew his skills even better. He apparently wouldn’t even compromise in a game and accept substandard performance. ”Heart….. Without nicking the lung.“ That last part made the target area a great deal smaller.

When he asked about the mini bar, Lana could only shrug her answer. She didn’t spend enough time drinking to actually care enough to be curious about the contents of her hotel room. Her only interest beyond these walls was the armory next door and whoever her target was beyond the hotel. However she didn’t have to wait long for an answer; Malik had, with his powers of booze radar, located the room’s mini bar in a set of cabinets that also stocked glasses and alcohol in the form of small bottles. "I don’t think Umbra cares what I do, as long as I get the job done." She could probably go on a mass killing spree and have no consequences, so long as one of the people she killed was the person she was contracted to kill.

"Does everything you do have to be perfect?" Of course she couldn’t be so judgmental; Lana was the same way about certain things. Though killing someone she couldn’t care less about how she did it, as long as it was done. Sometimes, if she was feeling particularly bloody, Lana would drag it out for hours; tormenting her victim before finally dealing the death blow. Normally that didn’t happen unless it had been a while since she last fed the werewolf.

Picking up one of the daggers, she ran one finger along the flat side of the blade. Lana wasn’t fond of using knives, but she wasn’t totally against them. They were fun to play with from time to time. She stood up from where she sat and motioned him to step aside with her free hand so that she would have an unrestricted throwing area. Holding the dagger by the hilt, she bent her arm so that her throwing hand was raised over her shoulder and after a brief moment of calculation, let the knife fly. Her arm jerking out like it was a spring that had been pulled too tightly. The dagger slipped smoothly from her fingers into a triple spin towards her target.

A thunk, like the one before, let them know that the dagger had pierced through the vest and stuck into the closet door. It was planted at the left side of the vest, making it her right side, between the fifth and sixth ribs closest to the sternum. She stood with her arms crossed and her head canted to the side as she studied her work, then turned to look at him with a barely visible smile. "I like this game. So, Malik, tell me something about you. Something that I don’t already know…" She stepped around the bed and approached the vest, yanking the two daggers out and returning to him so they were re-added to the pile. But just to be fair...or because the shots she'd had earlier were finally beginning to take effect, Lana grabbed the bottle and took a shot from it. "Top of left lung, above the clavicle."

A long slow whistle escaped Malik's lips when he saw the impressive throw that Svetlana did. She was definitely a good opponent, and good opponents made Malik step up his game. The only way to improve was to take on increasingly stronger opponents. What was true for chess was true for most things in life. "That was a nice throw." he said while she picked up the bottle of vodka and took a swing anyway. It was a surprise to see her drink even though she didn't have to, a very pleasant one. Malik took it as a sign of her starting to loosen up a bit. Whether he was right or wrong, he had no way of knowing, but it was shaping up to be a fun night in any case.

When she called her shot Malik gave a sidelong glance at the vest and chuckled. "You must really want me to drink. Lung going over the clavicle.... I hope the ceiling is high enough. " He took up his weapon and moved to the side of the on the side that he was supposed to hit. There he looked at the furniture that lined the wall, and then crouched down to take his boots off. Luckily the military had instilled in him the value of always wearing clean socks. A soldier lived on his feet, and clean fresh socks kept him from developing maladies that would hinder that. While he unlaced his boots he spoke to her, trying to answer the question that she asked him. "I don't really know what you already know about me. You know about the type of work I do. You know about my crew. You even knew what bar to find me in...... well, that's not that big a secret," he said laughing at that last bit.

With cat like grace and balance, he hopped up onto to the dresser, and put his back against the wall. He looked up to judge the height of the ceiling, and calculated the angles in his head. "During the war all New Breed were bred and raised in sanctuaries. No parents.... just instructors that taught us and raised us over the years. When I was about thirteen, I snuck out of the barracks one night, made my way to the edge of the compound, and hopped the fence. I wasn't trying to run away. I just..... didn't like...." he raised his arm, dagger in hand and started to slowly move his arm through the throw. "... knowing there was a fence out there.... telling me where to stay. "

Finally he whipped his arm forward quickly. The dagger streaked through the air and stabbed into the edge of the vest's neck area, at a downward angle. From Lana's view the knife was above the clavicle on the other side, but the travel path was a straight line down into the top of the targeted long. He had even thrown it hard enough that, had it been flesh, the entire knife would most likely be in his target's lung. He turned and looked at her with a smile. "You never said which clavicle, and that is a definite hit. Drink." He hopped down off of the dresser, landing with very little noise despite his size and walked back over to rejoin her. "I shifted and ran around the entire night. I ended up falling asleep on a hill about a mile outside the fence. I was missing at role call so the entire compound went on high alert."

"I woke up when i heard the sirens and made my way back. They tackled me at the front gate, and threw me in solitary confinement for a week. I had to be debriefed, pysch evaled, and tested for tampering or injuries. None of it mattered though. " he flopped across the foot of the bed laying on his stomach, looking at her. "When I got on the other side of that fence everything changed. I knew they couldn't keep me in, not even in quarantine. If I wanted to get out, it was just a matter of time and effort before I got out. It was my choice to stay." Malik learned the power of perspective that night and it was a lesson that he never forgot.

He suddenly got a devilish grin on his face and then quickly hopped up off the bed and pulled his dagger from the spot that he drove it in to and then handed it to her. "You're turn. You make the same exact shot that I just did, and tell me about yourself since, other than your employer, I know next to nothing." Relinquishing the dagger, Malik laid back across the bed, propping himself up with his elbows. Brown eyes watched her every move as she got up while he added, "And remember, you taught me how to sniff out a lie."

Begrudgingly she picked up the vodka bottle and took the shot. He’d pulled off the task she’d given him; not an impossible one but surely semi-difficult, at least. However she did not complain in the least. Malik had done her a favor by not only proving his skill, but also by showing that he trusted her enough to tell her about his past. Lana wasn’t sure if it was some kind of ploy for her to let her guard down, or if he was being sincere. But he hadn’t given her reason to distrust him thus far.

Taking the proffered dagger from him, she studied the vest from where she stood. “When I was nine years old, I had my first transition. I’d been living at a government facility for the past five years with about a hundred other kids my age, plus younger and older.” Spinning the dagger between her fingers, Lana leapt onto the bed and from there onto the dresser that he had perched on. “But the day of my transition, it was like I got hit with a train. My entire body hurt and I was nauseous. I had no idea why. Didn’t even know what I was.”

Sitting with one leg hanging over the edge of the dresser and the other bent, Lana pulled back her throwing arm as she aimed towards the ceiling. “None of the superiors at the facility expected me to change so soon. But it happens with puberty and no one expected that so soon either. It was the most painful experience of my life. Every bone in my body broke, grew, shifted. It really was like being hit by a train. But the worst part was that was also the night I had my first kill.” Throwing arm snapping out, the dagger slipped from her fingers and twisted through the air.

It arced towards the ceiling where the hilt made impact, causing the knife to change direction so that the blade was pointed down to the vest. Her angling was off though and instead of hitting on point, the dagger sailed through the neck hole of the vest and embedded through the bottom right of it. “A six year old girl who shared the same room as me; her name was Kateryna, but everyone called her Kate. She was a Ukrainian girl who came in a year after me.” Sliding down from the dresser, she knelt on the bed and reached across for the bottle. He had to help by passing it to her. “She come in the room, not knowing that I was in there and I couldn’t stop myself.”

One shot from the bottle, then another. “I can remember all the screaming; hers and the superiors. They came in and peppered me with a few high voltage batons; enough times to knock me out and toss me into a cage. I spent three days in there until the full moon passed. I remember everything that happened. Ever since then I’ve had a weakness for protecting kids.” Two more shots from the vodka and she put the bottle back on the table. “Gallbladder through the liver.”

Laying there on the bed, propped up with his elbows, Malik watched her step up on to the bed, and walk across it to the dresser.  It was impossible to keep his eyes off of her rear.  It was right there in his line of sight to the rest of her, and it was extremely well shaped.  Just big enough to look good without being too much.  There was such a thing as too much.  Malik didn't feel guilty for looking nor did he look away before she turned around, and took it from sight.  He was a male after all.  Something would be wrong with him if he hadn't looked.  What he wasn't prepared for was the story she'd told him.  


His nose didn't need to test the air.  She was telling the truth.  No one would make up a story like that.  Something like that could really make some baggage, and no one lied about having baggage.  People usually lied to keep others from knowing about it.  If only airports were as good as individuals.  These bags never got lost, and rarely stayed misplaced very long.  The best thing to do was surround yourself with people that didn't mind being seen with your ugly floral print suitcases.  "That's pretty shitty." he said quietly.  What was he supposed to say, 'I'm sorry'?  He had no part on it and he was only agreeing with what she already knew.  She got dealt a bad hand.  


"I'm glad to see you managed to not end up a total head case.  Most serial killers had nice child hoods than that, and you even manage to still have a heart."  By the tone of his voice and the steadfast quality of his masculine scent, he wasn't making a joke of it.  He knew that life really did a number on you, and it was obvious that he saw a difference between contract and serial killers.  Yeah she killed people on a regular basis, but it was for a reason, not compulsion, and those reasons were usually somebody else's.  Malik watched her take the bottle, and pull two long swings, one for the shot and one for the memories.  He didn't agree with that so he waited till she set the bottle down.


He reached out and took the now half full bottle, then put it up to his lips.  Two long swings later he lowered it and said, "People don't have neck holes.  That throw was still a kill..... just not as nice as mine"  He lifted the bottle again and took a third swing that was as long as the two he just had combined.  Setting the bottle down he took the knife and the challange.  "That one was one was to catch up with you.  I'm not taking an unfair advantage. When I spank your ass, you're gonna be able to say that it was good and fair. ". There was that smile again.  He got up off of the bed and walked to the far end of the room. It was an  was easy shot she gave him to make, so he wanted to challenge himself. 


He stood at the far end of the room and leaned his back casually up against the wall. It was as far as he could get from the vest that hung on the closet door.  In his mind he pictured the torso of a man in place of the vest, and then stripped away the flesh so he could envision the entrails.  The gall bladder was a little greenish red bulb peeking out from under the liver.  No ribs in the way.  A clean path.  Malik's arm was already in motion. The dagger was already in the gall bladder in his mind. He just needed to fill in the missing steps in between.  'See it in your mind as complete, and make it happen'. That was what his teachers taught him growing up. Train the body, and train the mind to make the body perform perfectly.  It was the same way they taught the New Breed soldiers to resist giving in to the beast that was a part of them all.  


"Why Umbra?" he asked her as he retrieved the dagger from the vest and floor.  Along his way he grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a swig, even though he was successful.  "I've fought you and I've watched you.  With your type of skill you could freelance, set your prices and people would gladly pay.  You could even shop around for employers and get a better deal" He flopped on to the bed, bottle in hand, base resting on his stomach, and held his hand up with two daggers in it.  His head was near where she sat on the dresser, so he was looking up from her feet. "Left and right shoulder joints, BOTH at the same time," he said with a smirk. 

“Shittier for her than me.” Lana sat with her head hanging in her hands. “The next several years after that, I did anything I could to atone for that death. It’s the only one that has ever bothered me. Grown men and women I can kill without regret, so long as it serves a purpose. But Kate, she was still just a baby to the world.” Children were innocent still of Terra’s darkness. She could remember a time before Chernobyl, in small snippets of memory. An orphanage in St. Petersburg that wasn’t much to look at, but it had been a safe haven for her and the other children.

“Just because I am…what I am, that doesn’t mean I have any less a heart than you.” Her tone was slightly offended by his comment. Not sure if he meant to say that because of her heritage as a werewolf, she should have been uncaring for others. Narrowed green eyes tracking his movements as he made the shot she called and picked up the half bottle of vodka. “I got distracted,” she muttered in response to her own less than graceful throw before that. Kate was a sensitive subject for her, which was why she tended to bury that memory deep within.

She received both knives from him. Her head was starting to feel a little foggy, so she moved slower than before. Taking the same spot he had chosen for his throw and leaning with her back against the wall. “Why not? They provide the equipment, the funds. I don’t have to compete with other freelancers like you…most of the time.” Lana held the daggers by the tips between her first finger and thumb. A small flick of her wrist saw those two weapons sail across the room.

For this particular target there was no need for strategic planning. A first and second dagger finding home in the shoulder joint locations on the vest. Still her eyes sought out the bottle of vodka that Malik was cradling against his stomach. A long, muscular form stretched out across her bed and like a moth to a flame she was drawn towards him. But she maintained a short distance by perching at the opposite ends of the bed. “Why did you kiss me…back at the bar?” She wasn’t stupid and there were other scenarios that could have seen them just as safely away from the place. Or maybe, like all women, she was reading too much into it.

Or she wanted to relive the moment. Hell, Lana wasn’t sure anymore. The combination of the liquor and such appealing eye candy and she was questioning her 30 years of celibacy. Pretending a disinterest in him wasn’t bound to work forever.

Malik raised an eyebrow and looked at her when she spoke up about ‘what she was’. It never amazed him how easily a woman could take something the wrong way and instantly put a man in the dog house. It didn’t matter what walk of life they were from, they all seemed to do it. Maybe it came to them like some sort of feminine instinct, as his animal instincts came to him. With that example in mind he chose not to make issue of it and moved on to the more important matter at that moment. He made his case while she preparing for her throw. ”I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you didn’t turn out as some dysfunctional monster that lives to kill. I’ve seen it happen, it’s not pretty. As for what you are….. we aren’t that much different. We both have the gift. I don’t care if my kind started in a lab as an offshoot of yours. We were born with the beast in us, and we were raised to be warriors.“

The Lion rolled over on to his stomach and held the vodka in his hands so that it didn’t spill. She was engrossed in her ritual of precise death dealing, and he continued to talk. The alcohol had done a great deal to loosen the tongue of this stoic man. Now he was giving voice to thoughts that he usually just kept to himself. ”I’m not going to spent my life sitting in a puddle of piss in tears crying about how we didn’t have a choice….“ He was talking about how some of the other Breed became activists speaking out about what they called government sanctioned slavery for Corporate profit. ”I’m not saying we should thank them, but they prepared us so we weren’t victims. “ He gave a cynical laugh, said, ”Humanity made us it’s warrior cast,“ and took another long swig of vodka.

The rapid succession of two thuds reaching his ear brought him news of her success. He didn’t need to look at it to know that she was successful. Malik saw her skill for what it was and knew from her walk away from the wall that told him everything he needed to know. It was a saunter that was born of the confidence she had, and she wore it well. His head turned as she drew closer to the bed and finally alighted upon the foot of it. The question she asked sent chills down his spine for some reason. It was completely unexpected and he enjoyed the curveball that she threw him. ”Why?“ he asked. ”I’m a man. You’re a beautiful woman. Something’s wrong with me if I didn’t try.“ He bowed his back and pushed himself up off the bed. With a catlike grace, Malik drew himself up, and stood up from where he lay. Malik walked over to the target that they both shared, and retrieved the two daggers from the vest. He took a moment to admire her perfect placement before pulling them out. ”The Shepherds say it’s a sin to not recognize a thing of beauty,“ he whispered to himself in admiration.

The beast in him revered Terra and her natural order of life and death, but as a man, Malik put faith in things greater than himself. For him Terra was a part of the Divine Collective and even in her lingering anger she was a world full of beauty. Slowly Malik walked from the target, back to Lana. In one hand he held the two daggers clutched together, and in the other was the bottle of vodka from which he took another swig. ”I’ve got a thing for strong women, and I wanted to see what you would do if I kissed you.“ He held the bottle out to her, as he drew near enough to stand over her. Inside there was enough for one generous swig, and it was hers. With her sitting down and him so close, his height was even more apparent.

”What’s the worst that could have happened… you shoot me? I’d just add the bullet hole to the scars you’ve already given me.“ He said that last sentence about scars was said in a deeper tone that matched the subtle curve at the corner of his lips. His free hand placed fingers on his chest to give a gentle rub. If she had a good memory, Lana would remember that as one of the spots she clawed on his body during their fight. The claws and fangs of weres were more suited to harming their own kind than any weapon that could be made. Yes they would fade in time, but he would always bear a reminder of her.

At least you had some idea of what you were. It was a surprise to me. Lana picked at the duvet upon the bed; pulling a small loose thread as Malik explained his reasoning. She hadn’t meant to sound as if she were chastising him for what he’d said, or for the actions he’d taken back at the bar. Lana had very little skill at social interaction if it was beyond discussion of her mission. So to say she felt a little awkward would be an understatement. It didn’t matter which sex or race she was interacting with, her awkwardness did not pick favorites among others.

Looking up, she took the bottle from him and placed it to her lips. Glittering green eyes were glued to him as she tipped it up, pouring the last of the vodka into her mouth. Then they strayed down to his chest where he was tenderly rubbing the spot she had mangled upon their previous meeting. Mirroring his movements, she too reached for her chest and rubbed at the tender scars that were still healing. Leaning over she placed the now empty vodka bottle on the table before rising up from where she sat.

Deliberately she made her movements slow, languid as they stood so close they nearly touched. So long as you don’t try it again, a corner of her mouth lifted as she plucked one of the daggers from his hand, at least while I am working, the tip of the blade pinched between her trigger finger and thumb and with her back facing the target, Lana lifted her arm and flicked the blade over her shoulder. The way it whistled as it flipped end over end through the air told of its flight path before the telltale thump. Then I won’t have reason to believe you have ulterior motives and therefore no reason to finish what I started last time.

They’d begun to get too personal for her comfort; At least since they had only just formally introduced themselves. Turning around to face the vest, she would find that the blade had pierced between the sternum, directly into the position where the heart would be and that the blade itself was buried deep within the closet door. Put my daggers back where you found them. She spoke to him as she was heading back into the armory to retrieve her guns.

Malik watched her hand move along her body in a tender stroking motion. He remembered that spot vividly. It was where his claws bit into her flesh during their fight. So, he left his mark in her perfect flesh. That knowledge excited him in a way that a human couldn't understand. It wasn't because he had hurt her. It was the fact that she carried something of him with her now, a remembrance. He didn't know how wolves thought of such things. He couldn't even be sure that other felines shared his sentiment. Maybe there really was something wrong with him, but it felt natural to him so Malik didn't fight it. Especially since she didn't seem to mind either.


She was definitely nothing like he expected. This Lana was by no means a 'type', or some iteration of any style that one ever came across. Lana was even nice enough to leave the door open for him and let him know when it was ok to come through. It brought a sly smile to his face that he was too drunk to hide. The smile widened as she threw the knife and sauntered off. Malik was also too drunk to hide the fact that he was looking at her ass as she walked away. It was too nice to pass up. "I'll keep that in mind." he said and walked towards the vest.

He did as he was told and pulled both knives from the vest. It was obvious that the game was over, so he took the vest off of the closet door. His eyes went to the gouges that were put in the door by the knives that went through the vest's protective padding. They were proof positive that you didn't wear a bullet proof vest to a knife fight. He shrugged off thoughts of, 'what about the door', and resolved himself to let Umbra's deep pockets take care of it. Following Lana into the armory, he watched her as she started to handle her guns. Hands carefully placed the throwing knives on the table, spaced properly so they fit in with the rest. It was as if they were never moved. The vest on the other hand was placed on the table away from everything else. It was out of the way of everything that she would need, because he didn't want anyone to accidentally don it, and get shot through one of the knife holes. They wouldn't be noticeable if someone was in a hurry.

Once they were all away, Malik turned his attention fully on Lana and started to approach her from behind. He remembered the warning she gave him. How could he not remember it, she had just said it a few minutes before. It was murmuring in the back of his mind, but he paid it no attention. She smelled too good. He stalked slowly towards her like a cat stalking his prey. He was fully aware that he may get attacked, but he was a lion, and that was why he had a mane. Like a moth to a flame he drew nearer, until he was so close that her scent was rising off of her like heat from a flame. He leaned forward and right hand started to move towards her well vrreee vvrrrreeee, vreeeee

Malik let out a quiet exhale of a growl that Lana could feel stirring her hair and rumbling the air at her back when his phone started to vibrate. He took a step away from Lana, and turned around. Frustration made his movements tense as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Yeah?", he said curtly. It was a number he didn't recognize so he knew better than to give the first bit of info to whoever it was on the other end of the call. Either it was a wrong number or someone knew who they were calling. Either way he gave up nothing. Whoever it was on the other end was quick and to the point before hanging up abruptly. Malik put the phone away and turned back to Lana, "That was my guy. He's quick. Package is already dropped, and he's clear. We can retrieve it whenever you're ready."

She was making a valiant attempt at ignoring is presence when he entered the armory carrying the daggers and vest. Lana focused on disassembling, cleaning and then reassembling her personal weapons. The process was made slightly more difficult thanks to the vodka they had imbibed in only moments ago. Green eyes in and out of focus as she ran a polishing cloth across her handgun; the motion was relaxing and helped her to concentrate on something other than the deliciously tall, dark featured male moving around the room behind her.

Gradually the motion of her hand sliding along the barrel of the gun slowed the closer Malik got to her. Her gaze focused beyond the gun to the table, staring sightlessly at the metallic surface. Her heart beat an erratic tattoo within her chest; pumping wildly at his proximity to her as well as at the thought of what it meant. Lana didn’t know which excited her more; him actually liking her as a woman, or that a battle was about to ensue. His phone vibrating was the saving grace for both of them. As his agitated growl stirred her hair, it also broke the trance she’d fallen in.

Lana returned to her weapons with a renewed vigor. I’m almost finished here. One by one she reassembled both handguns and loaded the clips. This was to be a quick death for the former Umbra agent. Quicker than the last time Malik had been in the middle of her mission and hopefully this time he wouldn’t hinder her ability to do her job. Lana re-holstered the handguns to her person and also pulled on a utility belt that she filled with other fun little knick knacks. Frag grenade and flash bang, nerve gas and a handful of throwing stars; though preferably she would be using her firearms.

If all goes well, you’re buying me a victory drink. But if the shit hits the fan, well, Lana didn’t think she needed to tell him the repercussions of screwing over Umbra. Let’s go. Leaving the armory with him on her heels, Lana sealed the entrance then slipped back into her boots; laces crisscrossed then looped around her shins before being tied into a knotted bow. From the room she led him back through the motel and out the lobby with a knowing look passing between herself and the clerk at the front desk who was also a paid employee of Umbra.

Lead the way. She motioned with a hand to the darkened street and a smile.

Malik's eyes lingered on Svetlana while she finished assembling her weapons.  He had been careful to make sure he touched as little as possible.   The throwing knives were wiped down with the edge of his shirt while she was out of site.  The kevlar vest was woven fibers so it wouldn't retain a print.  The hotel room was clean because the only flat surfaces he touched were the bottle of vodka and the mini bar.  He'd made sure to twist his fingers each time he touched the mini bar doors so no good prints could be lifted, only smudges.  The only place any solid prints existed where on the assault rifle, and he couldn't easily wipe that down.  Malik had broken it down and reassembled it which meant his prints were all over its inner workings.  That didn't sit well with him because he was dealing with Umbra.  


"You mind if I borrow the assault rifle and some extra ammo?  I'll clean it when I'm done."  It wasn't much of a request because he was already taking it off of the rack, and putting it in one of the many empty black canvas gym bags.  He added a few extra clips of 7.62 rounds as well as some 9mm clips as well.  "I wasn't planning on doing any 'work' tonight.  I just came out to get a drink."  He waited while Lana finished up packing her tactical kit, and then lead the way out of the hotel room.  Once on the street, Mailk hailed a cab, and gave the driver directions across the city of Librium.  They finally came to a stop in the Slums and Mailk paid the driver for their ride.  "That's for the ride here.  We'll be back out in a few minutes.  Restart the meter and keep the engine running."


The cabbie gave him a side long glance, but the 'keep the meter running' overrode all sense of good judgement so he waited like he was told.  Once again Malik led Lana down a darkened alleyway, but this time he didn't climb the side of a building.  Instead he scanned the brick surfaces of both buildings until he saw a mark that looked like smiley face with cat ears.  "Asshole," Malik grumbled to himself, but there was a slight smirk on his lips when he said it.  Crouching down in front of the brick that was a few feet off the ground, Malik pulled out his knife, and used it to pry the graffitied section from the wall.  Once it was out he reached in and pulled free a thick brown envelope.  It was a blind alleyway with no cameras anywhere in it or on the surrounding streets, and the space between the buildings were covered over, so any aerial surveillance couldn't see what was in it.  That was why Malik chose the location.  They had no way to get to his friend.


"There," he said, passing the envelope to Lana without even bothering to look through it.  "That right there is everything there is to know about the bastard, without doing the detective work yourself."  Malik didn't bother to smudge off the mark on the brick.  Others knew about this spot so he would never use it again.  Leaving the drawing there felt like he was marking his territory for all who would pass through there to see.  Let them wonder what it meant.  Standing up he moved closer to the edge of the alley and stood lookout while Lana went through the contents.  


True to his word, Malik had just given Lana a detailed picture of what her prey had been up to since falling out of Umbra's good graces.  There were photo's of the grey haired man meeting with a number of individuals that Lana may or may not recognize as people who were against Umbra.  With the information that could be gleaned from the meetings, pointed towards the possibility that he had turned to selling Umbra's secrets to the highest bidder in order to maintain the lifestyle to which he was accustomed.  For protection and muscle, he had hired a mercenary group.  Malik's contact had used tattoo's on the mercenaries to find out that they were all members of a special forces team that operated during the war.  Now that the war was over, the group stayed together and sold their services to anyone who could pay.  It was a common enough occurrence in the Enlightened world.  Her target was holed up in a two story house on the western city outskirts.  House might not have been the appropriate word for it anymore.  From photos of the location, taken with a long distance lens, the nine man team had turned it into a small fortress.  At the end of its street, with clear ground on all sides, no traffic could get near the building without being visible.   


The men guarded the location in three three-man fire teams.  One fire team patrolled the grounds, two men on the yards, with one on the roof keeping sight of the surrounding area.  The other two teams were inside, guarding the front door, back sliding glass door, and roaming the hallways and rooms in a constant state of readiness.  There were also copies of the houses floor plan in anticipation that Malik was going to need them one day.  It was a three bedroom house a solid foundation meaning no basement.    The ground floor had a kitchen with no door, a living room that opened to the back yard via sliding glass door.  There was a dining room, living room, and guest bathroom.  The upstairs was accessed by a staircase at center of the house, and the second story was home to the three bedrooms, and a full bathroom.  "Get what you needed?" Malik asked her without turning his head so he didn't have to stop observing the area.   

Take what you like. Keep it if you want. There is plenty more where that came from. One of the last things she slipped onto her person was a silencer specifically made for each of her firearms. A normal human might have felt weighted down with all the extra equipment that she had slipped into the belt or her pockets, but Lana felt a surge of anticipation race through her veins. Her arms flexed as she rotated her neck, tilting her head from side to side. That’s the thing about Umbra, we’re full of surprises. She grinned over at him as he pulled the gun down from its rack and loaded himself down with extra ammo. Lana grabbed her own Bushmaster Carbon 15 .223/5.56 NATO from where it sat and added it to the rest of her arsenal.

Next they were climbing into the cab and Malik was giving directions to the driver. She was acutely aware of his large presence beside her in the rear seat. Tried even to maintain some sort of distance between them by hugging the door as much as possible; knees pressed together and her arms folded protectively across her chest. Thankfully their ride wasn’t very long so the cramped situation she had put herself in wasn’t so agonizing. Lana stretched her limbs before following him into the alley where she suspected his contact had dropped the promised goods.

His muttered curse did not go unnoticed, but Lana was not nearly acquainted enough with Malik to ask for an explanation. Instead she waited patiently as he went to work extracting the envelope from its hiding spot and then passing it off to her. Taking the yellow manila from him she stepped away to view its contents; opening the folder and taking out the stack of reports and photos in one motion. She committed each face to memory before moving on. The reports, she silently noted, were extremely detailed and well written. She returned the papers to the envelope and stood there a moment longer to register everything she had just seen and read. There was a lot of planning that would be involved in tonight’s mission.

At the sound of Malik’s voice Lana turned and approached him. Da and I have a lot of planning to do. In a moment of spontaneity, Lana used the manila envelope to swat the werelion on the ass as she walked by and slipped back into the rear seat of the cab. At her request the driver passed her a map of the city through the partition that separated the front from the back. With the address fresh in her mind and once Malik returned to the cab, she gave the driver instructions to drop them off on a street that was a couple of blocks away from their destination. Passing the map back to the driver, Lana pulled out the blueprints to the house and grounds were her target was staying. I hope you’re free for the next few hours. This isn’t going to be quick or easy. When they arrived at their second stop, Lana exited the vehicle and started to do a cursory survey of their surroundings.

It was a classic upper-middle class neighborhood. The houses were fairly kept and a decent size, as were the yards. Most of them were fenced in, but a lot of them stood open. With her memory as her guide, she crooked a finger at Malik and began to lead him through the yards that stood open; silently working her way towards the target’s house at a perpendicular angle. Their approach was from the very front and thankfully the house that was at the front of Kingsley’s was heavily shrubbed with lush rhododendrons that spanned the perimeter of the front yard. Lana was crouching behind one of the thick bushes, handling the Bushmaster like it was just another part of her body; attaching the special made silencer as she peeked through the shrubbery to the house across the street. Tell me, how much about Kingsley do you already know? I assume you already know everything that was in the envelope? As she waited for his reply, Lana located the sentry atop the roof and studied him as he worked.

He made his rounds in a consistent counter-clockwise manner while the men that patrolled the grounds around the house worked in a clockwise route. If anything, they were methodical to their approach and Lana gave them credit for that. Sliding onto her stomach, she partially eased herself into the space beneath the bush and set up her rifle, aiming down the scope so that it was directed at the sentry on the rooftop. She waited patiently as the two patrols came to the point in their route when they would intersect, then separate before she made her move. A silent round expelling from the rifle as she gently squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet spiraling towards its target. While the group of nine men was extremely capable in their capacity to guard someone, they severely lacked in guarding themselves. The bullet entered the man’s neck at an upward angle and made its exit from the top of the skull.

His body dropped, first to the knees and then crumpling over on his side. Lana pulled out of the bush and sat up on her knees, detaching the silencer from the rifle and settling the strap back across her chest. Two left walking the grounds. Be quick before they realize the one up top is no longer responding. Before the two men on the ground came back around the house, Lana darted from her hiding spot and quickly crossed the street. With no rooftop sentry, their progress went unnoticed. When the first of the guards rounded the back corner of the house, she had just managed to slip out of sight. Hiding behind a protrusion in the house that was made up of the exterior of a chimney and as he passed her, a hand snaked out to cover his mouth while the other gripped the back of his head and quickly jerked it to the right. Severing the spinal column from the head, Lana ended his life and waited for the signal from Malik that he had taken care of the second patrol.

When Lana finished going through the contents of the information packet and started to question him as she exited the alley, Malik finally looked away from the streets. "No, you're the first to look through the packet," he said to her as he fell into step. "Just give me the layout of the building, and anything you have on security. As for what I know about Kingsley, not much. He was a higher up at Umbra, the bastard can't keep his word, and fucks over people who get the job done. " Malik held his hand out and took the pages that he asked for from Lana, and then slid into the back of the cab. While Lana gave the cab driver directions Malik looked over the sheets, and that carefree demeanor seemed to evaporate from him. Before her eyes, he became the grim faced mercenary she remembered from their first meeting in the warehouse.


When the cab stopped and let them out, Malik kept his promise and paid the driver well for his services, since keeping the merger running in the slums was against policy. People also didn't remember good tippers as well as bad ones. After the car pulled away he turned to Lana and said, "You call it. I'm on your six.", letting her know that she had the lead in this dance and he followed her steps. Once they were behind the cover of bushes in the neighbor's yard, Malik began to unpack his ordinances. The strap of the assault rifle was slung over his arm and secured so that it didn't bounce freely. Extra clips were packed into cargo pockets so that they would not make noise. He was ready for action and waited until Lana picked off the roof lookout, and set him to task.


Malik had never been one for stealth during the war. Even if he was a stealthy creature by nature, he was prone to spectacle and personal campaigns of terror to demoralize the enemy. Every enemy that ran in terror was one less left to fight his allies. They could always hunt down and kill stragglers. He never gave stealth a fair chance until a recent job, and addition to the Pride afforded him the opportunity. He had been given intense training in that other aspect of his being so that they could do a job, and Malik added those skills to his set. With a single leap Malik was over the bushes and landed noiselessly on the other side. He would have watched Lana work, but he had his own task to see to.

The moment he landed, Malik set into motion. His body was bent at the waist, slightly crouched, and his legs worked quickly. With an inhuman grace, Malik's long stride carried him over the grassy lawn. His body didn't bob up and down in a loping run that would cause the grass under foot to make noise. His weight stayed even and he ghosted forward on whisper quiet steps like a ghost. Malik's left hand was behind him, holding the assault rifle in place, and the left held his combat knife out at his side. Staying low, Malik closed the distance between him and his target, until it was too late for him to react.

Malik's left hand let go of the rifle just before he came to a stop behind the patrolling guard. That same hand snaked around the man to wrap palm and fingers around jaw and mouth in an iron grip. At the same moment Malik was rising from his crouch position, and bringing his right hand up sharply. Both hands tried to come together quickly, but obstructions kept them from joining. One hand yanked back the head it held, while the dagger in the other's grip plunged into the natural groove made at the bend. The blade's chisel point parted flesh then tore through nerves and cartilage as it slipped between vertebrae. A knife through the base of the skull was one of the most sure fire ways to kill an opponent with a single blow. It also severed the brains connection to the rest of the body, so there was no chance that he could fire off a shot and warn the other guards. The guard's body simply went limp, and started to collapse. Malik held it up, using the knife hilt that protruded from the base of his skull like a handle, and drug him to the side of the house where he laid him down.

The guard was down and his task was done. It was time for him to now move on to the next task. He needed to open the door for Lana. He skulked to the side of the house, and peeked his head around the corner to see Lana putting down her first kill. He waved a hand to get her attention and then set in to hand signals that were universal for the human military. He pointed to her and then shifted his finger up to the second floor. Then he pointed to himself and made a penetrating motion to the ground floor. His hand opened giving the signal to wait, followed by a lightning bolt like motion that he cut a hand through. He was planning on cutting the power and going in on the ground floor first to provide her with a distraction. She would breach upstairs and take them from behind as they were coming for him.

Malik disappeared behind the corner once again, and crawled low on all fours to the junction box he saw on the side of the house. Reaching into his pocket he pulled two of the assault rifle rounds from a spare clip and stuffed the bullets into the gap between the main circuit breakers. Once they were in place, he quickly moved to the back of the house and took up position beside the sliding glass door. He watched the shadow being cast by the lights through the window as the guard paced back and forth. He watched and he waited. The current passing through the fuse box heated the brass casings of the bullets until the black powder inside them ignited.

Two crisp explosions went off almost simultaneously, and the house went completely dark. Lana could hear shouts of orders immediately, and then the first shots were fired. The moment darkness fell, Malik stood up and pivoted around the door frame. The assault rifle was already up, and aimed at where the guard was. Finger squeezed trigger and a three round burst went off, shattering the grass, and embedding projectiles in the guard's face and throat. Malik immediately dove through the opening and went for the far wall, while making sure his first shots killed the guard. Blood leaked from a destroyed neck, and he didn't draw breath. He was dead.

Shouts and footsteps were getting louder. "We've been breached. Gunshots down stairs. Tony, Brahm, Waller, Rhodes, report. Two by two, sweep." Booted feet drew closer and Malik leaned out quickly to fire off a few rounds at the advancing troops. "Contact! Contact! Living room. Rhodes is down. Hagan took a hit. Secure Kingsley and give us backup." The voices were a jumble as all the men were calling out orders, but chaos was exactly what Malik wanted. As long as they were paying attention to him laying down suppressing fire, they weren't noticing Lana coming up from behind.

She didn’t have to wait long for Malik to catch up. His bald head peeking around the corner of the house would have been comical if the situation were not so serious. Up above her where he pointed, her green gaze alighted on a small balcony that extended from a set of exterior double doors. Lana OK’d the rest of his signal and waited until the telltale explosion to take care of the house’s electricity before she made her move. A few steps backwards so that she had a running start, Lana jumped at the curved section of the chimney, planted both feet against the stucco and then shoved off. Twisting her body mid-flight, she grabbed the balcony rail before gravity could carry her back down to the ground. The bite of the abrasive material of the railing was enough to make the werewolf hiss through her teeth as she hauled her body up and over.

The commotion that Malik had caused was sure to draw most of Kingsley’s guards downstairs. She jiggled the outside handle of the door, testing before easing it open. The space she created was just enough for her body to easily slip through, into the darkened interior of the two story. The night vision, a common trait among her race, was a blessing during these nighttime cases. She could see just as clearly at night during the daytime; as if her way was lighted by the sun itself. Scanning her surroundings, Lana found herself standing within a decently sized office. To her left was a bookcase that ran the entire length of the wall; filled to bursting with tomes of all sizes. In front of her was a seating area; clustered with two arm chairs and a leather love seat.

Then to her right, seated behind an ornate desk of dark cherry mahogany looking as pleased as ever was Richard Kingsley; her quarry. His lips were spread into a broad smile, showing off his pearly whites and his hands were folded atop the desk. Miss Kozlovski, such a pleasure to see you again. His eyes were as black as the night itself; unnerving in the way that they seemed to pierce right through a person into their very soul. The first time Lana had met Kingsley had been right after her induction into Umbra. Nearly ten years ago and she could still remember how she felt to this very day. Not frightened of him, but extremely anxious; he set her nerves on edge and made her heart beat faster than it already did.

Lana felt no different now, except that she knew better than to let Kingsley be privy to these changes he produced within her. Kingsley. There was no need for pleasantries. Neither Lana nor Richard had any sort of cordiality for the other and neither could they pretend such. There was an open malice between them that permeated the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. From behind her a rustle of movement came too quickly for her to turn and with the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head, Lana set her molars to grinding. Come now, Miss Kozlovski, we’re all adults here. We should be able to discuss our problems like civilized adults. So please, don’t make me have Waller here blow your brains out. Her hands flexed as her entire body tensed. I know why you’re here and I can tell you that it is a wasted effort.

Tak osleplen svoyeĭ predannosti Flynn, chto vy ne mozhete videtʹ bolʹshuyu kartinu. The wolf inside her snarled at the mention of her superiors name and her lip curled in disgust. Luchshe bytʹslepym posledovatelem , chem lozhnyĭ idol. YA budu prodolzhatʹ svoe sushchestvovanie v to vremya kak vy budete otkhoditʹ naogromnye pustoty. A whisper of wind at her ear alerted Lana to movement of the man behind her; when the butt of his gun would have smashed the back of her head, it met only air as she ducked. Dodging his blow, the werewolf reached into the space above her head where his arm was extended and grabbed him with both hands; right hand at the wrist and left one gripping just above the elbow. Shooting back up she jerked his arm down so his elbow came into contact with her uprising shoulder and Lana kept pulling down until she heard his elbow joint separate from the rest and the lower end of his humerus tore through flesh; tearing at tendons as it broke through the skin. Blood dotted the side of her face.

Releasing his arm as he dropped the gun, Lana spun around and connected a booted foot with his right kneecap; dislocating the joint so that he dropped to one knee. With both hands she grabbed his head and started to twist until she heard his neck snap but she didn’t let that stop her. Around and around until flesh separated from flesh, tendons from nerves and the like and finally she was able to present to Kingsley the decapitated head of his guard. This is what I think of your civility. She placed the severed head on his desk and drew both of her Colts from where they were holstered at her thighs. Get up. When he did, she motioned out the door and followed him when he complied, still wearing that devil’s smirk. Malik, I have Kingsley! They stood at the top landing of the staircase; first Kingsley and then Lana beside him with both handguns pointed at his head in case the werelion had left any of the guards alive.

The blood of the guard Waller was splashed across her torso, reaching as far as her neck and the underside of her chin. It dripped from her hands where she had been holding his head and even dotted her boots. Her contract with Umbra had not extended to Kingsley's guards, but they had given her no choice. Leaving them alive would only hinder her ability to do her job.

Translations:
Kingsley: So blinded by your devotion to Flynn, that you cannot see the bigger picture.
Lana: Better to be a blind follower than a false idol. I will continue to exist while you retreat to the vast emptiness.

Malik pressed his back up against the wall as a hail of bullets flew down the stairwell in his direction. He felt the rough stone pressing into his back and silently thanked the Divine for good construction materials being used in this house. Kingsley's rich tastes just gave Malik a safe barrier that most assault rifle rounds couldn't punch through. They would have to do it the old fashioned way and keep shooting until he ran out of bullets or made a mistake and poked his head out at the wrong moment. While waited for the first barrage to stop he did a mental head count and checked it against the intel they had. There were nine mercenaries in all. The three that were stationed outside were all dead. The one that he had been guarding the back door lay on the floor next to a scattering of broken glass. He also managed to put a bullet in one of the guards at the top of the stairs. Five of the nine guards were dead.

Movement through the darkness at Malik's right caught his attention and immediately he tried to focus his senses in that direction. Suddenly there was a flare of light as the mercenary turned on the rifle mounted spotlight. 'Idiot' Malik thought to himself then amended it to, 'Human Idiot. The Children of the Moon were animal as well as human so they had a different set of rules to play by. For a human soldier, such a device was an advantage. With it they could see surroundings and their enemy, but to someone who was at home in the dark and not panicking, it became a target. The mercenary was making a quick sweep of his rifle to find his target, but Malik already had his in site. The last thing the Merc saw was a mocha skinned black man, with eyes that shined unnaturally in the spotlight, and muzzle flare.

One squeeze of the trigger set off a three round burst. The first bullet ripped through the center of the spotlight causing it to explode in a shower of sparks and shrapnel, and the other two went along the barrel's line of site to find their owner's face. That was number six. There were three more plus Kingsley left. "SHIT!! He got Mike. Kill the torches." Malik overheard between bursts of fire that the sent off, and he returned by blindly firing around the corner so he could keep their attention focused on him instead of what was happening behind them. The torches at the end of the rifles went dark and Malik knew what was coming next.

The gunfire when silent and his inhuman ears heard the high pitched whine of night vision goggles powering up. In the chaos they didn't stop long enough to pull out the night vision gear, but now that they had him pinned down they knew they had the time, or so they thought. They couldn't aim while they put the goggles on which meant they would either both be out of commission for a moment, or one would keep a rifle ready while staring at darkness. That was the opening he needed. As fast as he could Malik stood from his crouch and ran across the doorway to take cover behind the wall on the opposite side. En route he looked up the lane, spotted the one lone rifleman, took aim, and squeezed off a shot. The man slumped from behind his cover and started to slide down the stairs. That was seven down, leaving two to go.

The lone mercenary at the top of the stairs had finally gotten his night vision goggles on and rearmed himself, but by that time Lana had done her part. Her delicious accented English rang out through the darkened halls to let Malik know that she had Kingsley. Now that the battlefield was even, the night sighted merc raised his gun to the source of the voice. He took aim on Lana, trying his best to find a good shot on her. "Let him go and put the gun down!!!" He barked at her and then stood up to get a better firing position. It was his last mistake.

Malik heard the commands being barked at Lana and knew the mercenary's attention had been diverted. Without hesitating the former soldier slid out from cover with his rifle already raised in the target's direction. In the darkness he took aim on the more than ample target. Even though he had the head gear on, Malik oriented the sights on the man's ear and moved from there. One last pull of the trigger, and Lana watched the three round burst tear through the top of the mercenary's head. "That's EIGHT!" he yelled out and immediately started sweeping the area as he had been trained. "No sign of Nine, yet." He said to let her know that there was still one more possibly unchecked. He had no idea that Lana had left him in a broken heap upstairs.

No sign of Nine, yet. With Malik’s confirmation that number eight was down, because Lana could clearly see the motionless corpse lying not far from herself and Kingsley upon the landing, she jostled her captive by the scruff of his shirt collar and shoved him down the stairs. Nine is already taken care of. It’s just us now. Her push was a silent command that he either keep up with them or he fall and break his neck on the way down; no fool that he was, Kingsley made sure his footing was on spot as he was rushed down to the first floor of the house. His hands raised in the air and his black eyes surveying the chaos around him. What’s wrong, Kingsley? Don’t like how we decorate?

Her voice had come on a whisper, beside his ear as she had followed him down to the first floor where Malik was. The smell of blood lingering in the air made her nose twitch and the beast inside of her shift. Green eyes briefly flashed to yellow as she looked from one dead body to the next, disappointed in herself for having to cause so much damage but realizing that it couldn’t have been avoided. So you obviously know why we’re here. In fact you don’t even look surprised. She nudged him with the butt of her Colt against the shoulder and motioned for him to keep walking. You want me to be frightened? I watched Flynn train you. I know all of your tricks. If you expect me to talk, then sorry to disappoint you sweetheart, you won’t get shit out of me.

He would be tied up then; his arms bound behind himself to an armless wooden chair she had dragged in from the dining room. His ankles bound to two of the chair’s legs and another length of rope that was wrapped around his chest, binding him to the back of the chair. Lana had made sure to tighten the binds around him until she saw him flinch, then knot them so he couldn’t free himself. You think we’re here to interrogate you? She stepped around so that she was standing in front of him, her hands on his shoulders as she bent forward. The look of surprise that struck her made the former Umbra agent pause. Net. We’re not here to talk. You should know that about me Kingsley. I don’t interrogate.

Standing upright, she looked over at Malik and remembering his background with the man, made a quick decision. Lev, she called to him, coaxing him closer with a crook of her fingers from where he stood. I have to go back upstairs and search for the documents he stole from Umbra. You stay here and…watch him. She wouldn’t openly say anything, but Lana was giving Malik permission to do what he pleased with Kingsley. To take out his revenge upon the former agent in any way he saw fit. Just don’t kill him. That’s my job. She said with a pat to his chest as she walked by, leaving the two men together as she bound back up the stairs into the office. While she was away, Lana would ignore any noises from the first floor.

First she started with the desk, opening each of the drawers and spilling their contents onto the floor in search for the papers. When that failed she moved to the bookcase and started to tear each book from the shelf. One by one shaking it so that any loose papers would fall out and the process was a slow one since the bookcase covered the span of an entire wall. One of those books, a large unassuming tome, was the key to finding what she had been looking for. Her tug on the book only pulled it out far enough to trigger a lock inside the case and an entire section of the shelves popped out, making Lana jump back less she be hit. On well-oiled hinges the shelf swung out to reveal a wall mounted safe hidden inside. There was a key pad and thumb scanner system, which made the redhead curse. Spinning on her heels she turned and marched back out to the landing, from which she could look down and see Malik and Kingsley below. I need him up here. The safe has a coded entry and thumb scanner.

Translations:
Lev = Lion

When Lana confirmed that she took out the ninth guard Malik lowered his gun, and stopped sweeping the area to cover the access points for threats. Even though she hadn't officially earned his trust yet, he knew the quality of her work, and this was her operations. She didn't strike him as the type who would celebrate prematurely. Malik stood down and waited quietly while Lana tied Kingsley up like a prized pig for slaughter, before giving him the go ahead, and heading upstairs.

Malik's eyes followed her up the stairs, enjoying the view of her swaying hips from behind. Once they were out of sight his chocolate eyes shifted to Kingsley who was still staring about at the darkness because his eyes were only human. The large black man walked back to the living room where he left guard who was guarding the back door, and took his assault rifle. He then made his way back to Kingsley, turned on the gun's flashlight mount, and set it on the kitchen counter so that the light shone on where the man was tied up. "That better? Can you see?" Malik asked Kingsley as he walked into the light. He didn't know if the man would recognize his voice, but one thing was certain, he would know the face of the man that he tried to sell out. He didn't wait for Kingsley to answer the question because he could see the look of recognition in his eyes.

"Yeah..... You remember me," Malik said with a dark smile spreading across his face as he stood illuminated in the darkness by the same pool of light. "I we did a job for you and instead of paying us, you sold us out. That exchange was an ambush and you knew it. I took three bullets getting out of there." Malik let the gun that he was toting fall from his hands. The neck strap he wore caught it and let the firearm casually swing to his back while a steady hand drew a knife out of its sheath. "I took one here..." he said while he drug knife across Kingsley's right bicep, leaving a deep bleeding trench in the flesh. "Here...." he said and then marked it on Kingsley's body by slowly pushing the blade into the man's right shoulder. Slower blades always hurt more because of the psychological impact. Whether it had a good or bad connotation, penetration was always had an effect on the psyche. " That bullet went straaaiiiight troooouughhh.... just....like..... this..... knife." Malik's words slowed and took on a deliberate quality to mirror the precise use of the knife, and stopped when the pointy tip of the razor sharp of the knife was protruding out the back of his shoulder.

Malik left the knife in for a moment so the pain would subside just enough for Kingsley to flee some relief from the blade. It wasn't long before Malik took the handle once more and twisted it, before slowly pulling it free again. "The third bullet ripped into my gut and got stuck." he touched the bloody point to Kingsley's abdomen just to the left of his stomach. "The first two I could live through, but this one.... this one almost killed me with the bleeding. " He looked into the fallen company man's eyes and smirked. "No.... I won't stab you here..... that is too easy, and she needs you alive. So, I'll just mark it for later." The mark came in the form of an 'X' cut slowly into the flesh of the man's stomach. It was deep enough to one day be a scar, but not so deep as to cause internal hemorrhaging. "Shhhhh.... Shhhh. Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you. I came to teach you something. Something important." Malik said as he dropped down into a crouch so that he could look up into Kingsley's eyes. " =A man's worth is found in the strength of his word. It's not about being able to move an army or order life and death. It's the trust that people put in that word. "

He moved closer and his voice dropped as anger entered it's tone. "You broke your word and put my family in danger. You even turned against your own organization, and now they want you dead. That's where being weak gets you. Alone, in the cold dark, waiting to die. " Taking advantage of his proximity, Malik reached out and grabbed hold of Kingsley's side. His thumb pushed into the spot where X marked, tearing muscles as it pushed in. He waited for the man to stop any pained noises and then said, "When I felt that bullet ripping through my stomach, I promised myself that if I lived, I would be there to watch you die. I always keep my promises."

Malik pulled his thumb free of the man's muscle lining and didn't touch him again, finally giving Kingsley time to actually say something. He wasn't a picky conversationalist, because he had come here with one intention, watching Kingsley die. Having the opportunity to speak his peace was just a bonus that was too good to be true. It was downright therapeutic. Their alone time was interrupted when Lana called out about needing the bastard upstairs so Malik stood up and grabbed the back of the chair. "The lady doesn't like to be kept waiting," he said as he lifted the entire 'package' off the ground. He carried Kingsley upstairs and then set him down in the room Lana had ransacked. "I was just gonna cut off his thumb and bring that to you, but I didn't have anything ready to cauterize the stump."
" "

Well I need him to tell me the combination, so I’m glad you didn’t. She stood facing the open wall, staring at the mounted safe with a thoughtful expression. Her objective had been to retrieve the files from Kingsley, then to dispose of Kingsley. She could destroy the safe and thereby ensuring that its contents were likewise destroyed. But part of her was curious to see what it was Umbra didn’t want bandied about. What had made Kingsley turn against them in the first place? Turning slowly back around, she let her green gaze travel down to the man tied to the chair and over the injuries caused by Malik.

Kingsley sat there looking only put out. Fear was an emotion that Umbra taught their agents to mask and they did it well. Still though, not everything could be hidden from a werewolf. That sour aroma rising off the traitor couldn’t have been mistaken. So are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way? She leant forward, her hands resting on her knees so the two of them were level with another. His black eyes bore into her with a mixture of contempt and triumph. His lips remained sealed, even as they curved upwards into a satisfied, sardonic smile. He was choosing the hard way, obviously and it made Lana’s eyes narrow into slits as she realized this.

Standing straight, she reached into her utility belt and pulled out a slender cylinder shaped object. It was chrome and small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and when she passed her thumb along the smooth surface, four tentacle-like arms slipped out of the devices body and stood up. This device is much like the one you used on the banker, she spoke to Malik without taking her eyes from Kingsley, who in turn was looking at the object in her hand with some curiosity. I had the developing team at Umbra design this after I saw how your device worked. It does the same thing except this goes straight to the source and works faster.

With her free hand she held Kingsley’s head in place and brought the device to his ear. Blinking green lights told her that it was ready to record and once close enough it hopped from her palm and right into the older man’s ear. Slithering into the canal and burrowing past his eardrum, working its way up to Kingsley’s brain where it would ferret out the information she sought. But instead of having to extract the device from him, it downloads directly to a handheld device and once it is complete will self-destruct. The end result will be that Kingsley will suffer a minor brain aneurysm which won’t be enough to kill him, but will immobilize him; a paralysis state that would leave him incapable of defending himself though he would still be able to hear and see what they were doing.

Turning away from him she pulled out the handheld device and pulled out a cord that attached to the keypad on the safe. When she switched the device on, the screen blinked to life, brought up a loading screen and then a countdown bar. There was less than a minute before she got what she was searching for. When the countdown hit ten seconds, she glanced over her shoulder to the two men; first Malik and then Kingsley. The latter’s eyes were mostly rolled towards the back of his head so that nothing but the whites showed. A systematic beeping drew her attention back to the safe where, upon looking at the digital read out, blinked four numbers. They were now passed the first barrier; the second one was when the thumb scanner lit up, indicating they needed his print. Now you can cut off his thumb.

Disengaging the handheld from the safe, she replaced it back on her belt and held her hand out for the thumb and once placed in her palm she pressed it to the scanner. A green light flashed over the pad and then a mechanical hiss jarred the door open. Tossing the severed digit over her shoulder, she shoved the door open and reached inside for the documents; leafing through each sheet of paper to make sure she had what she had been searching for and then, without warning, unholstered one of her Colts turned and shot Kingsley at point blank between the eyes. The blood that leaked from the bullet hole matched that of the blood leaking from his nose and ears; a result of the aneurysm, Are you satisfied? Folding the documents in half, Lana stuffed them down the front of her shirt so that the papers were snug against her chest with layers of clothing and protection holding them there.

There was a slight stab of jealousy that ran through Malik when she pulled out the device and explained that she had not only modeled it after the one she saw him using, but had a development team fabricate one for her on demand. He had to practically move Heaven and Terrra just so he could pay out the eye teeth to get his hands on the one he had. It was a bit unfair how corporate sponsors made the jobs so easy for some while others had to fight harder to make a living. He wasn't taking anything away from her personal skill, just calling it like he saw it. "So, should I expect a thank you card in the mail from you or Umbra?" he saisaid with that cynical tone in his voice. He didn't like that someone was out there stealing his style and methods. Having a friend borrow a page out of your book was acceptable, but a stranger doing it wasn't very cool, let alone a corporation.


It was a bit irritating how easily she got the datta from the man's head. Her version was connected to a data pad that she could used to read the information, while Malik had to go through the process of divining the information from the crystal in real time. He had no problem acknowledging that the Russian red was good at what she did, and efficiency was a rare thing to come by in this line of work. The lack of military presence seemed to make a lot of mercenaries sloppy. She wasn't one of those slobs. When the lights went green lana looked over her shoulder and gave him some very good news, but when Malik drew out his knife and looked down to Kingsley his smile fell. The grey haired man's eyes were rolling lazily upward. The lights were on, but nobody was home. Lana's little toy did its job and left the man virtually brain dead.


Large hand wrapped around wrist, lifted it up, and placeded blade beneath thumb. A slight adjustmt while pressing caused the knife blad to find the groove that marked the thumbs nuckle joint where the bones met. Once it was comfortably seated, Malik gave a gentle curl followed by a sharp pull. Kingsley didn't make a sound and malik was robbed of the simple joy of hearing his enemy scream in pain. Blood spurted from the wound, and then slowed to a steady trickle which Malik did nothing to stem the flow off. He simply let the limb fall from his grip and tossed the severed thumb to his cohort. A feww quick motons later and the safe door popped open, leaving its contents unguarded.


What the contents of the safe were was no concern to the lion. His only reason for being there now sat before him slowly bleeding to death. Malik had done the math, and the wounds he gave him about the body in addition to the unchecked flo of blood from the stump where his thumb used to be, would eventually kill him. That was good enough for him, but a quick flurry of motion brought Malik's attention back to Lana. She drew her pistoll and put one between Kingley's eyes without batting an eyelash. A smile broke his lips and he answered her question, "Yeah, good enough. Look me up some time, so I can return your gun. You know how to find me." With that he turned and left the house, leaving clean up to her. He had o get out of the area, break down the assault rifle he held, and clean his prints off of it.