The sound of movement at Hood's back was met with a brief, annoyed scowl. He surveyed his relative lack of options and responded quickly; the revolver in his hand was tossed and spun to be caught again by the barrel, and he spun and stepped to close the distance with where he assumed the remaining living gunman would be seated. He doubted he would be quick enough to cave the man's skull before the bastard could get a shot off, but it was either that or take a few rounds to the back, which did not appeal to him.
The view that met him was mildly surprising though. The man's eyes bulged then filled with blood. He cocked an eyebrow as the man's horrified look glazed over and the body slumped back to the floor, then pocketed the spent cases from his revolver. After checking the hallway one last time to find it still empty he walked back to the bar where his holster sat, and calmly thumbed six fresh rounds into his gun; any other residents of the floor that might have been home hadn't decided to open the doors yet, for obvious reasons.
"Four man team. Fairly standard."
He was still trying to figure out what had happened to the man's head. Had he thrown the decanter harder then he had thought? He'd seen strange flukes happen in the past; mines or IEDs that didn't go off right, with soldiers ending up with broken feet or, in one case, just a broken boot lace. Simple falls that had resulted in bad breaks and bad falls that ended with a bruise. But it had seemed too...sudden, maybe. Was that the right description?
He switched the revolver to his off hand and knelt next to the first man that had come through the door, the one whom had been taking aim at Spectra, and casually peeled back the blood soaked balaclava to get a look at the man's face. The fellow seemed vaguely familiar, and his suspicions were confirmed when he calmly dug around under the collar of the man's shirt to pull out a set of dogtags. "CCD military. Well, ex military. A rival private security firm."
Kneeling as he was he leaned over to the last man to die, getting a closer look. The bulging of his eyes had changed to an unsettling sunken look, as if they had fallen inwards due to excess space. Whatever the case, there was nothing more to be done about it so he stood again. "Police will be here soon."
He sounded more annoyed that the police would be involved then that they had been attacked in the first place. He took a moment to memorize the serial numbers on the two weapons.
Hood stood with a quiet sigh and stepped towards her to wrap his arms around her shoulders, "Any reason they might have been after you?"
It was possible of course, but if the CCD was out to get her because of her connections, they wouldn't have sent a pack of mercs. More likely they were after him; fall out for the other night, likely. Mr Talanov would have to be informed, as well as his own boss, and more importantly the team of lawyers he had.
There wasn't much to be done but wait for the police to arrive and deal with the annoyance of what would come. Self defense, and very good lawyers and connections, would see most of their involvement in the incident dropped in short order. Doubly so, considering whomever had sent the men to begin with would be running their own damage control, assuring that there would be nothing to lead back to themselves.
Spectra could not recall any time before witnessing bewilderment drape itself across Hood's expression. A rush curled upward from her toes just thinking about it. He hadn't known it was her doing that sent the man to the cold and lonely sleep. Hood, who knew so much by a single glance, did not know her secret.
She might have told him had he asked, but apparently the thought never crossed his mind. Instead, he rummaged through the corpses, and identified the metal necklaces men of the military wore. To find them, Hood trod all through the mess. The scotch had thinned out the blood, but it was already congealing where it didn't seep into the floor. The excitement of earlier was displaced by no small measure of disgust. Killing was a dirty business ... literally.
Mention of police made her examine the remains of her dress, but even if Spectra were not disgusted by its state, there was nothing worth pulling over her shoulders anyway. What would she wear when the police arrived? With police came reporters, and with reporters came cameras. There was probably a robe somewhere, but the idea of a bath robe on the front page sickened her.
A valuable, hand made suit jacket that Hood had so neatly folded and placed aside before their fun began would be quite fitting. She could roll up the sleeves and button it at her naval. It'd hang just to the top of her thighs and show off the ridges and straps of her garter.
Suddenly he was holding her. The act caught Spectra by surprise. Was Hood feeling vulnerable? In need of some sort of comfort? Or was he simply hoping to savor one last moment before their lives were invaded by police and drama? She pat him on the back and sensed every rise and fall of his chest against hers.
"There are a hundred reasons they could be after me,"
she replied and peeked away from their hug, but did not release him to do so, he was simply too delicious to release at the moment, and flashed him a coy smirk. "Is there any reason they could be after you?"
Hood barked a laug and let her go with a brief but hungry kiss.
"Well, I killed a few of their buddies the other night, but this wasn't personal. This was a contract. Didn't notice them following us, and Koloman wouldn't have missed a tracker. Hell, the shits were probably already in the building, so they were after either me, or the owner of this suite. I'd guess the latter, since they didn't expect a fight."
Four men with sub-machine guns didn't seem to count as 'expecting a fight' to him. And considering how fast they had all been put down, it seemed an accurate statement.
"Who provides your personal security? Best get them on the phone. These guys were Krasnyy Medved Security Solutions."
He nudged a body with his foot casually turning one of their gloved hands palm up and chuckling at the view. The gloves were brand new; probably fresh out of the plastic wrapper that day.
"Suppose I should phone my lawyers. You too, but doubt you'll need them. They'll let you go with a few questions."
He didn't actually seem concerned about having to deal with the police; he was almost literally standing on four dead bodies, and holding a smoking gun, but he didn't expect to see the inside of a cell. Pervaya Security has too many important people in it's Rolodex, and at the end of the day, it would be written up as self defense. Hell, the four dead operators probably wouldn't even be linked to the rival security company. Just a kidnapping/ransom plan gone awry.
He glanced out the window and wasn't surprised to see the flashing lights of police cars already screaming up to the building. They were in a rich part of town; the police responded to calls in the area far more aggressively then anywhere else in the city. He momentarily entertained the idea that the four men might have had a fifth manning a rifle in a building across the street, then discarded it with a scoff, and was proven right when he didn't get shot looking out the window.
Edited by
Hood, Feb 14 2014, 05:42 PM.
Four professional killers armed to the teeth, and they didn't expect a fight? Spectra's laugh sparkled glittering merriment. Hood was always so amusing.
Her back chilled without the warmth of his palms pressed against her. Her own inner fire could only warm her so much, and Moscow was a cold, cold city. She'd grown used to the extra sensory perceptions flooding her conscious with information, but the addition of far distant sirens warned her of police arrival before Hood had crossed to the window. Sirens were such a horrid sound. If only her powers could discover a way to muffle the wailing. Cars couldn't be strangled quite as easily as an infant in the crowd.
She stole Hood's coat, and was busy with the sleeves when he mentioned calling their respective people. She wasn't concerned with police either, except for the prospect of sitting in a disgusting station. Especially compared to the alternative way this night should have turned out. If those four bodies weren't already dead, her glare alone would have stopped their hearts.
"My manager handles security,"
she shrugged indifferently. Who cared where they came from? She watched her own back since she was five. A child that learned how to deflect the palms of angry drug lords and their lieutenants was a far greater service to her than beasts in body armor.
The pelts of her coat were less soggy than her dress, but they had been trampled none the less. Edvin, her stylist, would be annoyed. The coat, like the jewels strung through her ears, were on loan from the designer.
Hood turned away from the window and couldn't help but shake his head with a hungry grin. "You can make anything look good, can't you?"
He took a long moment to enjoy the way she was wearing his jacket, then let out a frustrated growl as he walked over to her again, this time to boldly reach into the jacket and pluck his wallet from the inside pocket.
Within minutes police were storming the hallway outside, barking orders and quickly storming the room. Over-zealous officers were quick to seize both Hood and Spectra and force them to the floor, before more level-headed and seasoned hands took control of the scene and made sure Spectra was helped up. She was an easily recognized individual, after all.
Hood was handcuffed after confirming his identity; he had just killed four men, and even though it had been self defense, he was still bound to end up at the station for questioning. And Spectra would surely be free to go before that time; she had been just an innocent bystander after all.
But before they could drag Hood away to the station, his people had made the necessary phone calls and arrangements and a surly detective unlocked the handcuffs and returned Hood's pistol and wallet. "You're both free to go."
He was clearly not happy about it.
Hood stood and spent a moment rubbing his wrists before accepting his things back from the detective, "Thank you, detective. Have a good night."
He turned to Spectra then, shrugging his pistol harness on and stuffing his wallet into a pocket, "Well, Miss Lynn. It seems we will have to find you some more secure accommodations for the night."
Spectra looked playfully offended. "You are surprised by this?"
But by the way her shoulder dropped into an immediate pose, she did not take the slight as intentional.
She held the front of it away from her chest so he could rummage around on the interior pocket, but took great pleasure in torturing him with brushes and delays. If these gunmen were after him, any impatience they shared could be laid at his feet for letting them find him while so obviously otherwise preoccupied. If they had been after her, well then it was likely still his fault - if only by virtue of manliness.
The noise out of doors pulled a sigh from her lips, but a smokey look of daring met the first police officer to enter the room. Behind raised guns were more than one lingering look. They were prepared to meet the lion when entering his den, but strangely shocked to find a rare lionness in their midst.
She raised her hands. She was unarmed - by any weapon they may see anyway - and went obediently to her knees, but not without a dark smirk for the order to do so. The officer that cuffed her, laid her flat on her stomach to pull her hands behind her back. The bite of metal hurt her wrists, but the knee on her back was the greater annoyance. Her cheek was pressed to the carpet while so positioned. The degrading posture, as though she were about to be humped from behind like a farm animal, flamed her with animosity, but the similar posturing of Hood flat on the floor carried her through it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, more than aware of the rush of air that curled up between bare legs and quite simply how undressed she was. No camera was apparent, but she had an image to maintain and she was sure the man that held her down had a lens smuggled on him somewhere. His jacking off to her vulnerability was fine, but not when she would not see a single dollar for it. At least he scowled at Hood like he wanted to rip the man apart. Jealousy was an evil bitch.
It all ended in a commotion of orders, cursing, and apologies. She was helped to her feet with a beautiful scowl plain on her face. The viper can only handle so much disturbance before it strikes. Thankfully, Hood saved them of any venom by suggesting they go elsewhere. She nodded in decided agreement, flicked her hair behind her shoulders with purposeful tousling and otherwise arranged her appearance. The detective that freed them practically drooled on her feet. She would let him too, but he wasn't worth the integrity of her shoes.
She took his arm when they left and whispered in conspiratorial agreement. "For the love of God. Please, yes. Secure, and hopefully someplace ... without interruptions."
At this point his home may be the better option. A place like this was too good for both of them anyway.
There was a reason why Hood worked for Pervaya. The company was as corrupt as any other, they were just very, very good at it. They had some of the best lawyers, and very influential clientele, allowing the employees of Pervaya to shirk the law quite blatantly at times. It helped that all the various 'security specialist' companies had an unspoken agreement against personal vendettas or bringing in the law. There was a lot of money to be made, and so long as they kept their illegal activities subtle, quiet, and out of sight, they mostly went ignored by the police.
Of course, shirking the law only worked so long as no police were forced into personal vendettas either. They had a job to do, and no end of paperwork. Anyone who made that paperwork harder for them was likely to find some very unwanted attention, so before they left Hood produced a card and gave it to one of the detectives on scene, "Should you have any further questions for me, Detective. My personal phone."
Without that, the detective would have had to work through the red tape Pervaya protected itself and it's interests with. This was one of few times when Hood was actually 'innocent' in the crime being investigated.
That done, Hood collected his things, and Spectra's 'soiled' coat and dress over his arm, his other given over for her as they took their leave from the crime scene. Hood stepped over the bodies with an entire lack of interest, not even making an effort to avoid the pools of blood that had soaked into expensive hallway carpet or were threatening to warp and ruin the far more expensive hardwood flooring of Mr Talanov's condo. He did however make sure Spectra had all the space she would need to save her shoes.
He pulled out his outdated phone and punched a few keys, and by the time they reached the lobby, and Koloman and the same driver were waiting for them. The pair hadn't made it far; there was a high profile individual with Hood, after all, meaning the company had a chance to earn further reputation and contacts by proving itself leagues ahead of the competition. The four dead bodies upstairs certainly weren't going to hurt in that regard. Might even save him from his employer's wrath come morning that he had taken up Mr Talanov's offer of the condo.
"We will be heading to my house. These guys were waiting in the building already I assume?"
Hood seemed unphased by the chill night air of Moscow, although he didn't dally in letting Spectra get in the car, at least in part for the fact that the poor woman was almost naked and there was a crowd gathering. Not that she would mind being seen in the nude of course, but she had an image to maintain. Most folks would likely just assume Hood was her bodyguard, or maybe even a cop.
Koloman shrugged, both for Hood's destination and his question; they hadn't seen anyone enter the building in full gear, but of course it could be equally safe to assume that whoever they were they had taken a back way in. But the most likely answer was that they had been inside already, and waiting for anyone to enter Mr Talanov's suite.
Spectra ducked swiftly into the car, but not before flashing the onlookers a glimpse of thigh. By now the excitement had worn to ordinary impatience, a sentiment not helped by traffic delays.
The leather beneath her was cold against her legs. The seat warmers had not had a chance to make the welcome cozy and restful, so she wondered whether Hood kept the car nearby in wait should he have sudden need to call upon it. As she wondered about many of the plans constantly churning in the back of his mind, what else was being planned behind the glass-like focus of his façade?
As the seat gradually warmed, Spectra undid the button and folded back the panels of his suit jacket. Her stomach was bare, and moved subtly with every deep breath she took. She was looking out the window, watching the faceless piles of people pass them by. The district sidewalks were busy despite the hour, and behind tinted windows, she witnessed their passage with blasé interest.
Bored, as the scent of blood and flush of adrenaline had faded, she pulled a knee up beneath her, and twisted to face Hood with an elbow perched between the seat and a backturned wrist placed against her cheek. Her hair fell as dark rivulets down the sides of her neck, and their ends tickled the curves of cleavage otherwise hidden by his jacket.
"You keep a home, here?"
She asked as cynicism laced the contours of her accent like powdered cocaine streaked on the edge of glass. "'Home is where the heart is,' they say."
She placed a fingertip against his chest and with it trailed out the shape of a heart.
"¿Y dónde está tu corazón?"
-And where is your heart, she asked, peering deep beyond the reflection of herself in his eyes as though she saw straight through him.
"I thought you did not have a heart,"
she added. A slight smile of approval upturned the corners of her mouth. She would be disappointed to learn otherwise. Soullessness was one of his best attributes.
"I said 'house,' not 'home.'"
He grinned slightly at the distinction, and the implications it rose. He didn't think he was a bad man, exactly, he just wasn't a good man either. Good men didn't enjoy plugging lead into other men, just for the satisfying knowledge that he was still the top dog.
Krasnyy Medved Security Solutions often saw themselves as the cream of the crop; they had ten times the number of employees as Pervaya, they had larger and longer contract terms, they provided security to some of the most important 'public sector' laboratories, facilities, and assets. But that was the difference between Pervaya and Krasnyy Medved. They protected the things. Pervaya protected the persons. They were smaller, operated quietly in the public eye yet almost entirely out of sight.
So who the hell was stupid enough to pay Krasnyy Medved to grease a Pervaya operative?
He spent a long moment savoring the view she offered as she traced a finger around his chest; the fall of her hair, how valiantly his jacket fought to keep her modesty, and how teasingly close it came to failing at the task.
Krasnyy Medved could wait; there were people at the Pervaya head office working on the mystery, and they would figure it out eventually and decide on an appropriate response. Should the target prove to have been Hood, then there would be repercussions far more violent then if it had been a botched hit on Mr Talanov. One was a matter of money and business, but attacking a Pervaya operative was personal.
He slid across the seat towards her, tracing her bare stomach softly with curled fingers, boldly moving into her personal space, "I may be heartless, but I do hate to disappoint."
They had unfinished business and he had kept her waiting far longer then he had the patience for.
At that late an hour, it wasn't hard to reach Hood's place. The neighborhood was run down, but hadn't the defeated slum feel that some parts of the city's outskirts did. His house stood out, mostly for being unusual rather then being wealthy. Carefully stacked and modified seacans were once unheard of as a building, but the trend had picked up in the past few decades. Just not so much in Moscow, the heart of the CCD.
The vehicle was pulled into the driveway and Koloman stepped out and surveyed the area with apparent boredom before opening the door for Spectra, "You two have a good night now. I hope Mr White keeps a clean house."
Hood hadn't been expecting any company that night, after all.
Hood just grumbled irritably and stepped out, giving the man a comfortable rap on the arm on his way by, "Circle the block a few times, will ya?"
Koloman just nodded, took a long moment to enjoy the view of Spectra climbing out, gave the driver a stern look to keep the younger man's eyes to himself, then climbed back in and they drove away, leaving Hood to show Spectra in.
They didn't even reach the porch before his flat mates made their presence known; the three dogs were hidden underneath the porch and seemed less then pleased with Hood and Spectra's arrival, barking and growling and snarling, although it was all just a big show.
Hood kicked one of the supports of the porch, "Shut the hell up you ingrates."
The three quieted down in short order, asides from the occasional irritable growl.
What would usually passed as a living room in most homes seemed better described as a gym and work area. The renovations were nearly complete, but the place still had a faint hint of fresh paint and wood dust. And despite all the work he had put into the place, and all the time he surely spent there, there wasn't a hint of personality to it. No photos, no books, no signs of it being a place lived in. Everything was neat and tidy, nothing seemingly 'in use.'
Spectra didn't welcome being corrected. She did welcome Hood's hand diving beneath the jacket. She slid into the circle of his arms and forgave him the sleight to her ego. She found herself forgiving him of much in the span of one night. For no one else was she so generous, but he gave her the world, so she could give him a few inches.
Her back arched away as her torso twisted to face him like a cat stretching in hot sunlight, but the driver was watching, and around the edge of Hood's neck she flashed him an amorous lick of the lips. Did Hood know the glances they shared? She did enjoy toying with him so, but only to see what he would do. A heartless man embittered by lustful passion was thoroughly entertaining. As the mouse to the paws of a cat too full to devour its prey but too amused to release it, too. She adored Hood wriggling on the ends of her strings. A man in his position could chase, and capture, any woman he wanted. That he wanted her shuddered victorious chills with his every touch.
She gave his house no more attention than any other. She was, however, careful to watch her footing. The yip of dogs implied the possibility of dogshit smearing her shoes, and after avoiding soggy red carpet, she had no intention of ruining them now.
Spectra's chin tilted, drenched in the combination of moonlight and the twin beams of the car's head lamps. Hood clapped the driver on the arm, and she watched the man's eyes carefully for any cringe of pain that might have passed beneath the grip.
She was pleased to be sealed inside, away from both the pack of dogs and the cold black sky. She surveyed the interior with little critique beyond the potential for each and every piece of furniture. The iron smelled faintly of sweat, and she imagined his back straining against the bench for each and every surge of strength. There was a faint musk of new paint seeping from the walls. It was otherwise clean and sparse. Empty and cold.
Like the man that inhabited it.
She approved greatly.
After finishing her self-guided tour, she sauntered to one side of the exercise bench, swept the stem of an endless leg across to the other side, and sat, straddled. She let his jacket slide down her arms and perched her chin on her hands, apparently bored, but also apparently begging him to relieve her of her impatience. She'd taken a similar pose for a recent cover shoot involving a half-million dollar sports car. The billboard of which cast a constant glow upon the Outer Ring Roads surrounding Moscow.
"You're right. This is no home,"
she said. The burning of her eyes upon his approved.
Waiting, that was when she allowed the seduction of the great power to bathe her soul in cabalistic warmth. The ecstasy warmed her blood from within and flushed her eyes with the same volcanic passion that his hands had elicited when she'd last been in his lap. Remind you of anything? They silently asked. Her heart beat inside her chest, aching with all the long hours of foreplay.
"I've had yet to properly thank you for giving me what I always wanted,"
her hints flowed like the wide river of power in which she hovered. He may have only been the bearer of good news, but luckily, Spectra intended to reward him all the same.
She curled a finger that he come closer.