Some images never died. The dark suited, sunglass-wearing security guard with ear bud was one of them. Koloman and Mr White were often able to make anything look good. Dark suits and sunglasses were something the two large men seemed born to wear. Amid dozens of commonly uniformed security guards, working to hold crowds of fans and paparazzi at bay, the two Pervaya Iiniya Security employees stood out.
The 'impromptu' concert had been over for hours already. It was the usual stupid drivel; some BS story about wanting to do some quiet little show somewhere without all the hype. Of course, word of it was 'leaked' a week beforehand, and the venue in question was an even center that could hold thousands. Small by the standards of their current employer. And the fact that that 'small' venue was in Moscow further sunk any chance that it had been evenly remotely an honest desire for something low-key.
The concert and after-party had gone off without a hitch. A mob of exuberant fans and camera-happy paparazzi. A few clingy party-goers. Most of the rabble were kept well beyond arms reach by the day-to-day security guards and their employer's usual bodyguards. It wasn't until it was time to take their charge to the airport, moving her from the hotel to the airport, that something went amiss.
Who knew what set off such nutbars. A perfume commercial with some random male actor. Or a music video makin' lovey-dovey eyes with some other random idiot. Whatever imagined slight it was, Onyx, the world-renowned chart-topping songstress had seriously pissed off one of her die-hard fans enough that the looser was skulking about in the underground parcade of the hotel. The idiot, it turned out, had blown his entire life savings and a mortgage on his house just to bribe his way down there.
Most of the security detail was on the perimeter, doing the usual distraction to draw all the paparazzi to another exit. Her personal security were on the perimeter on the real departure side, leaving Koloman and White to walk her to her waiting vehicle.
It was the stereotypical underground parking garage. Concrete posts, areas of poor light, crowds of vehicles. Naturally, neither man were actually taken off-guard at the crazed fan's presence, and at White's signal Koloman had moved away from Onyx to intercept the idiot before the situation could escalate.
Of course, having a giant black man in a tight-fitted movie-thug suit walking towards your hiding spot was cause for most folks to be spooked. Most of course would have frozen in indecision, or fled with some hint of intelligence. Crazed fan-boys though...they were bold. Dangerously so.
The idiot surged out of his hiding spot and into Koloman's path, yelling the usual crazed obscenities. 'Cheating whore' or 'lying slut.' The usual stuff. It never did make any sense. Maybe it would turn out that she had said something nice to him at a concert; of course it would have been just the usual crowd-pleasing drivel aimed at a random unremembered face. Or maybe the closest he had ever been to her was a crowded concert.
Koloman moved on the man, but the distance was too far to cover on time, and the man's pistol was a pitifully tiny thing. A .22 of all things. Really, who even bothered with something that small? Seeing the gun, Koloman leapt forward to tackle the man, and White stepped between her and the would-be shooter.
Two shots rang out. Or piffed, really. .22s weren't exactly intimidating sounding weapons, even in the enclosed space of an underground parcade. Koloman and White would have to give the idiot credit; he was actually a pretty good shot, as both rounds plucked White clean in the chest...where they pebbled off his protective vest of course. Koloman took the man to the ground, breaking the man's hand and wrist.
Onyx didn't scream or panic; not exactly anyway. Maybe it was shock, but she took it all quietly. Probably some throw-back to her training as a singer; don't scream. Bad for your voice. So she huddled behind Hood and shrunk in on herself to make a smaller target. At some thirty meters out, the .22s still had a bit of punch to them, and he let out an annoyed grunt at the impacts.
Koloman had the idiot under control in short order, growling orders at the man as he cruely zip-cuffed the man's wrists together, with little concern over the broken one. The man's screams alternated with pain cursing and insults shouted at Onyx.
The songstress was bustled into her waiting car in short order; the driver made a good show, pulling up all dramatic like. Koloman and White exchanged a look and nod, and switched off roles; Koloman got Onyx in the car and drove away, while Hood took the task of collecting the maggot nutbar and waiting for the police. He'd been shot twice and it wasn't even 0500hrs. It was shaping up to be a fine day.
There was a few hours lost dealing with the police, and of course fending off a somewhat over-zealous paramedic fellow who was, likely, batting for the other team, so to speak. But eventually it was all dealt with and White was able to take his leave to deal with other tasks the day had conspired to lay at his door.
-----
White opted for a taxi from the police station to his preferred tailor where he had sent Enzo. A quick stop at his safehouse for the appropriate paperwork, where he had toyed with the idea of changing clothes but had decided against. The clothes he was wearing needed to be tailored after all.
Most people didn't notice the little details; the fact that the suit jacket and dress shirt he wore had two tiny holes in them. The walk from the cab to the Imperial Tailors was short for him; he wasn't one to gawk at the scenery or let crowds slow him down.
He strolled into the store as if he belonged there, nonchallantly shrugging out of his jacket undoing his tie with a few deft motions, revealing his revolver in shoulder-holster. The white dress shirt better showed the two small bullet holes against the black vest beneath.
"Good morning, Miss Ivanov."
White nodded a familiar greeting to the receptionist, who glanced up at him with a cool, professional expression that was only briefly marred by a wide-eyed glance at the revolver and holes in his shirt. He glanced at Emily, but it took him a moment to recognize her. She was known to his company of course, but the profile photos he had read of her were generally in business attire, not fancy dresses.
"Miss Shale, yes? Imperial Tailors never fails to impress, but it is rare they are given so fine a canvas with which to work. Mr White. Pervaya Iiniya Security. DI's leading private and personal security option."
"Uh...Mr White. Hello. I believe your acquaintance is already here. Do you...you will need some repair work done, I take it?"
She easily pulled his file up on the display she had at her desk, and tapped in the information for the desired work at White's confirming nod.
"I'll just leave this with you then."
He draped the suit jacket over her desk, shrugged out of his shoulder holster and took off the dress shirt next.
"If you could have someone run a loaner shirt and jacket to me in the mean time? Unless you have no complaints?"
He wore only the vest, with two small holes in the fabric layer, and a simple grey t-shirt beneath that of course, and glanced from the receptionist to Emily and back, eyebrow raised as if him waltzing about a high-end shopping center in a bulletproof vest and holstered revolver.
She was quiet for a long moment, not doing well at hiding a long look at his bared arms, then added a note to the file to have a shirt and jacket loaned to him.
"This is entirely unseemly, Mr White. We here at Imperial Tailors have a reputation to maintain, after all."
"Of course, Miss Ivanov."
He pulled his archaic cellphone from the jacket then gave the pile of clothes a pat,
"I'm sure we will be spending enough to make up for whatever inconvenience we cause you today."
She gave him a flat look, and he just shook his head and walked further into the store to find Enzo. He didn't need to go far; even as he turned to leave the reception area he was greeted with Enzo's sudden arrival, with a vaguely exacerbated Séverin working on, likely, a few choices for Enzo to choose from.
"Tired of being sized already, lad? Brought you some light reading to take your mind off it. Bonjour, Monsieur Séverin. Yes yes, my boarish style offends the senses of a refined..."
he petered off as Séverin frowned at him then vanished into a back room, then shook his head and held out the file folder for Enzo to take.
"This is your homework. It will help you blend in."
Edited by
Hood, Jan 5 2015, 11:32 PM.