11-05-2013, 07:40 PM
Continued from: A Little Errand
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
The return of Mr Talanov's daughter had won Pervaya liniya Security both a sizable check and a valuable ally, now bound to the company by their shadowy dealings. It was quite well understood going into the deal that the security company expected more then mere money in payment for so shadowy a dealing. The company's continued existence and safety was secured through their powerful clientele, after all.
Hood's little present for Mr Talanov however had earned him a bonus. With the delivery of the turn-coat body guard, alive and in one piece, Mr Talanov had been more then willing to see that Hood was well compensated. And that compensation came in the form of a personal invite to a very hush-hush sort of party.
Hood arrived a bit later then he had been expecting to. The handover with Mr Talanov's newly hired head of security, a fellow member of Pervaya liniya Security, had taken longer then expected due to painfully mundane reasons; a delayed flight and bad traffic.
Hood arrived in the back seat of a simple cab, the valet's frowning openly at the display. The frowns quickly vanished as Hood stepped clear of the vehicle, staring down at the two classically dressed young men as he adjusted his cuff-links. Once again, Hood had been forced to drop a sizable chunk of change on clothes, something he would have considered a waste had it not been for his reason to be at such a venue.
Satisfied the two men were put in their place, Hood walked to the door, studiously ignoring the handful of paparazzi that tried to catch his attention. In their world, he was one of those unknowns that peaked their curiosity only until it became evident he wasn't some major headliner.
He was far more expensively dressed then when he had visited Manifesto, wearing a suit worth a cool four digits, the look excellently enhanced by a well kept bit of stubble. The other half of the gift from Mr Talanov, from the man's personal tailor, which had caused the old Italian man no end of stress to have it finished on such short notice. Not something that was likely to come out of the closet often.
Even dressed to the nine Hood didn't fit in though. The clothes were right, and the confidence with which he wore them was most certainly there. It was his eyes. Too cold, too distant. Not quite the eyes of a killer; he was a killer, of course, but not of the mundane sort. Not quite the eyes of a soldier; he wasn't one anymore, but that was still an important part of what he was. The orderly, structured lifestyle was probably the only thing that kept him functioning.
Building security didn't give him much trouble; he was on the list, after all, although the three men did size Hood up. He wasn't interested in a dick-swinging competition, however, and whatever he said to the men set the straight right quick. Pervaya liniya Security was a known phrase amongst the high-and-mighty Moscow, and was growing to be known throughout Dominance I, so having one of their employees at such a party was odd but not so unlikely as to raise questions, although he did spend a few minutes more passing through security then most had.
He shared the elevator with a senior politician and the man's trophy wife. He stood with hands clasped lightly behind his back, a sort of casual parade rest stance, and made small talk with the two until they arrived at their desired floor and bid each-other adieu. Years of training had made him more then a skilled killer. One couldn't go slinking about foreign countries and cultures without raising flags if you couldn't blend in, after all.
The view was impressive, and the guests equally so. He barely made it ten strides from the elevator before he had a drink in hand, and he scanned the crowd, reading the ebb and flow, watching for the subtle hints. Drugs, of course, were readily apparent; a well dressed man subtly putting some pill in his mouth as he took a sip of drink. The man to Hood's right had pupils the size of dinner plates, another subtle hint of just what sort of party he had walked into. No doubt there was far more despicable 'pleasures' one could sate at this sort of party. He'd seen the sort before; probably a few private bedrooms with sex-trade girls and boys waiting for someone to satisfy their hungers.
That wasn't what he was after, however. He gave the room another look, but it was readily evident Spectra wasn't there. So he wandered for a time, room to room, carefully keeping the well-payed eye candy at bay and avoiding any who dared to try and stop him for conversation. Those were few and far between, most more so interested in knowing just who he was, rather then to gather his opinion on anything.
It wasn't so long before he found her, in a side hall of all places, between two men. One some painfully out of place kid, the other a familiar face from Manifesto. The eyes he still assumed were contacts, but the man's build and the way he carried himself was what had committed themselves to Hood's memory. A dangerous fellow, probably. In a street-tough-turned-big-league sort of way. Probably more meat head then strategist.
Hood approached the three calmly, and stopped just a stride away from the group, although he paid neither man any attention. They didn't seem the type that would draw Spectra's interest for means of wealth and power, so he didn't mind interrupting.
He missed the little incident, and arrived only in time to hear Spectra's and Silas' words. "Well, you boys can get back to your little talk. I've kept our flower here waiting far too long."
His tone was silk wrapped steel; it was a simple statement of fact that he was going to be taking Spectra away from them, and neither man was really worth his attention or interest. Although if he had a chance, he might just look into finding out who Silas was. Neither of them belonged in the sort of places where they kept crossing paths.
Edited by Hood, Nov 6 2013, 08:28 AM.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
The return of Mr Talanov's daughter had won Pervaya liniya Security both a sizable check and a valuable ally, now bound to the company by their shadowy dealings. It was quite well understood going into the deal that the security company expected more then mere money in payment for so shadowy a dealing. The company's continued existence and safety was secured through their powerful clientele, after all.
Hood's little present for Mr Talanov however had earned him a bonus. With the delivery of the turn-coat body guard, alive and in one piece, Mr Talanov had been more then willing to see that Hood was well compensated. And that compensation came in the form of a personal invite to a very hush-hush sort of party.
Hood arrived a bit later then he had been expecting to. The handover with Mr Talanov's newly hired head of security, a fellow member of Pervaya liniya Security, had taken longer then expected due to painfully mundane reasons; a delayed flight and bad traffic.
Hood arrived in the back seat of a simple cab, the valet's frowning openly at the display. The frowns quickly vanished as Hood stepped clear of the vehicle, staring down at the two classically dressed young men as he adjusted his cuff-links. Once again, Hood had been forced to drop a sizable chunk of change on clothes, something he would have considered a waste had it not been for his reason to be at such a venue.
Satisfied the two men were put in their place, Hood walked to the door, studiously ignoring the handful of paparazzi that tried to catch his attention. In their world, he was one of those unknowns that peaked their curiosity only until it became evident he wasn't some major headliner.
He was far more expensively dressed then when he had visited Manifesto, wearing a suit worth a cool four digits, the look excellently enhanced by a well kept bit of stubble. The other half of the gift from Mr Talanov, from the man's personal tailor, which had caused the old Italian man no end of stress to have it finished on such short notice. Not something that was likely to come out of the closet often.
Even dressed to the nine Hood didn't fit in though. The clothes were right, and the confidence with which he wore them was most certainly there. It was his eyes. Too cold, too distant. Not quite the eyes of a killer; he was a killer, of course, but not of the mundane sort. Not quite the eyes of a soldier; he wasn't one anymore, but that was still an important part of what he was. The orderly, structured lifestyle was probably the only thing that kept him functioning.
Building security didn't give him much trouble; he was on the list, after all, although the three men did size Hood up. He wasn't interested in a dick-swinging competition, however, and whatever he said to the men set the straight right quick. Pervaya liniya Security was a known phrase amongst the high-and-mighty Moscow, and was growing to be known throughout Dominance I, so having one of their employees at such a party was odd but not so unlikely as to raise questions, although he did spend a few minutes more passing through security then most had.
He shared the elevator with a senior politician and the man's trophy wife. He stood with hands clasped lightly behind his back, a sort of casual parade rest stance, and made small talk with the two until they arrived at their desired floor and bid each-other adieu. Years of training had made him more then a skilled killer. One couldn't go slinking about foreign countries and cultures without raising flags if you couldn't blend in, after all.
The view was impressive, and the guests equally so. He barely made it ten strides from the elevator before he had a drink in hand, and he scanned the crowd, reading the ebb and flow, watching for the subtle hints. Drugs, of course, were readily apparent; a well dressed man subtly putting some pill in his mouth as he took a sip of drink. The man to Hood's right had pupils the size of dinner plates, another subtle hint of just what sort of party he had walked into. No doubt there was far more despicable 'pleasures' one could sate at this sort of party. He'd seen the sort before; probably a few private bedrooms with sex-trade girls and boys waiting for someone to satisfy their hungers.
That wasn't what he was after, however. He gave the room another look, but it was readily evident Spectra wasn't there. So he wandered for a time, room to room, carefully keeping the well-payed eye candy at bay and avoiding any who dared to try and stop him for conversation. Those were few and far between, most more so interested in knowing just who he was, rather then to gather his opinion on anything.
It wasn't so long before he found her, in a side hall of all places, between two men. One some painfully out of place kid, the other a familiar face from Manifesto. The eyes he still assumed were contacts, but the man's build and the way he carried himself was what had committed themselves to Hood's memory. A dangerous fellow, probably. In a street-tough-turned-big-league sort of way. Probably more meat head then strategist.
Hood approached the three calmly, and stopped just a stride away from the group, although he paid neither man any attention. They didn't seem the type that would draw Spectra's interest for means of wealth and power, so he didn't mind interrupting.
He missed the little incident, and arrived only in time to hear Spectra's and Silas' words. "Well, you boys can get back to your little talk. I've kept our flower here waiting far too long."
His tone was silk wrapped steel; it was a simple statement of fact that he was going to be taking Spectra away from them, and neither man was really worth his attention or interest. Although if he had a chance, he might just look into finding out who Silas was. Neither of them belonged in the sort of places where they kept crossing paths.
Edited by Hood, Nov 6 2013, 08:28 AM.