05-10-2020, 10:24 PM
After the system completed its processing, the young woman entered a series of commands that issued him the requisite credentials. “You’ll find Mister Haart in Apex Lounge. Top floor,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear and flashing long eyelashes upward. Seven accepted the encryption, a temporary infrared tattoo of sorts that shone only for the appropriate scanners. To the naked eye, the shape was invisible. All it would take was a wave of the hand to part to elevator doors. They didn’t let just any riff raff in off the street, it seemed.
“Thank you my dear,” he said with a smile, leaving behind the digital thumbprint of a wallet number, for business purposes of course.
The elevator flew like the engine of a jet into the sky. When he emerged, gone was the sterile lobby of a busy city building. He was deposited into a world of shadows, sex, and luxury. The maître d’ greeted him by name. “Mister Seven, your party is this way,” he said with the stretch of arm.
“No Mister. Just Seven,” he corrected. The host did not seem bothered by the identity, although he promptly apologized. Unusual creatures found themselves in the peak of Moscow sky clubs. Seven fit right in.
He recognized Ephraim on sight, precisely on time, a habit that was extremely important to him. A woman was in his company. A beautiful woman to match a beautiful man. Upon being presented by his escort, he took it upon himself to step forward, hold his eye contact, and announce himself with a solid handshake. “Mister Haart,” he said. Ephraim was dressed stylishly with a gleam in his eyes that Seven liked almost immediately and easily matched mood for positive mood. Next, he turned to his female companion wherein the ritual was repeated almost identically. He wasn't expecting additional members at this party.
“Ma’am. It is my pleasure,” he added with a lingering smile that suggested he may kiss her on the cheek if she was receptive to the custom. “Seven,” he said, taking a comfortable seat for himself among their circle.
“Thank you my dear,” he said with a smile, leaving behind the digital thumbprint of a wallet number, for business purposes of course.
The elevator flew like the engine of a jet into the sky. When he emerged, gone was the sterile lobby of a busy city building. He was deposited into a world of shadows, sex, and luxury. The maître d’ greeted him by name. “Mister Seven, your party is this way,” he said with the stretch of arm.
“No Mister. Just Seven,” he corrected. The host did not seem bothered by the identity, although he promptly apologized. Unusual creatures found themselves in the peak of Moscow sky clubs. Seven fit right in.
He recognized Ephraim on sight, precisely on time, a habit that was extremely important to him. A woman was in his company. A beautiful woman to match a beautiful man. Upon being presented by his escort, he took it upon himself to step forward, hold his eye contact, and announce himself with a solid handshake. “Mister Haart,” he said. Ephraim was dressed stylishly with a gleam in his eyes that Seven liked almost immediately and easily matched mood for positive mood. Next, he turned to his female companion wherein the ritual was repeated almost identically. He wasn't expecting additional members at this party.
“Ma’am. It is my pleasure,” he added with a lingering smile that suggested he may kiss her on the cheek if she was receptive to the custom. “Seven,” he said, taking a comfortable seat for himself among their circle.