10-29-2024, 04:29 PM
Having worked his way back into the custody’s good graces, his lips were practically painted brown and puckered raw from all the ass-kissing. It was worth it he decided upon accepting this new assignment. Though realizing the destination, a small part of him worried this was some test. Did he have the balls to willingly walk back into a country that locked him up for life as a spy? Even if it was a giant set-up, Ryker’s danglers were bigger than all the other motherfuckers put together. So he accepted the assignment, a smug-ass expression on his face, and packed accordingly.
He strolled through airport customs, fake identity all wrapped up in a nice big bow, he gave the security personnel a friendly nod and smile in that asinine way that Americans greeted strangers - like they wanted to lick ass everywhere they went.
On anyone else blue jeans, sneakers, a sweater and a ballcap would look ridiculous, but Ryker made that shit look good. He left customs with a swagger in his step that made the Border Officer watch him walk away.
Ryker scanned the scene in search of his target, finding the terminal was packed. When finally he spotted the guy, a frown overtook his fake American, wide-eyed, dumb as a rock expression.
He hefted his duffel bag, which was serving as a carry on for his belongings, and approached.
“Nox Durante?” He asked, midwest American accent perfect, and while he sized the man up, his gaze inevitably landed on the rat clinging to his chest.
He strolled through airport customs, fake identity all wrapped up in a nice big bow, he gave the security personnel a friendly nod and smile in that asinine way that Americans greeted strangers - like they wanted to lick ass everywhere they went.
On anyone else blue jeans, sneakers, a sweater and a ballcap would look ridiculous, but Ryker made that shit look good. He left customs with a swagger in his step that made the Border Officer watch him walk away.
Ryker scanned the scene in search of his target, finding the terminal was packed. When finally he spotted the guy, a frown overtook his fake American, wide-eyed, dumb as a rock expression.
He hefted his duffel bag, which was serving as a carry on for his belongings, and approached.
“Nox Durante?” He asked, midwest American accent perfect, and while he sized the man up, his gaze inevitably landed on the rat clinging to his chest.