They Never See it Coming(Katrina)

Victor watched the target through his scope. The man had spent the last three nights going to the same casino, for the same amount of time, spent the same amount of cash, and then left. Tonight, it was looking like he was winning more than he was losing, and, if it kept going this way, he'd stay in longer.

"This is The Asset. Target is still on site. Looks like he finally figured out his luck trick," he remarked into a mic set against his throat. The reply wasn't long in coming.

"See if his luck trick works against bullets. He's already robbed three bank transports, and raped at least one victim. We're paying you well to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Roger."

Looking down through the scope again, he watched as the man began loading his cash into a strongbox. He kept watching as the man walked out of the casino, heading towards his hotel. Victor waited until the man was alone, adjusted his scope, and squeezed the trigger. He moved the scope back, spotted his target, now down and unmoving. With a nod, Victor pulled his rifle off the table he had set it on, and began to take it apart, feeding the parts into a gun case. Once he was done, he closed the case, latched it, and lifted it by the strap.

He turned to leave the darkened room, and then stopped, staring straight ahead for a moment. His free hand crept under his jacket, before jerking one of his Colt handguns free and pointing it at the doorway.

"I really don't like being followed. And I like it less when I don't know who's following me. Show yourself, or I'm gonna assume you won't mind a bit of lead poisoning."

She watched from the shadows, the cold precision and steady hands as he hunted his target, confirmed his kill. He was a professional, and she daresay she saw military precision in the way he holstered his gun. A small smile flickered across her cheeks, glistening gently in the darkness underneath her eyes. She dropped silently from her rooftop perch, traversing across barely-seen flecks and golden rings to the open window down the hall from her target. Her face was shrouded in a simple wrap, hair tied back in a ponytail. Unrecognizable to most as she crept in the window. Slowly, she approached him, intent to sneak up on him- only to meet the business end of a pistol hastily drawn. It appears he noticed her. Oh, well.

”The Asset. I’m a fan of your work.”

The voice was cool, calm, and feminine, hiding a smile as she tugged the mask down, letting the material pool on her neck. A flick of her hand and a light flew in the air, hovering above head level to illuminate her. A familiar face, oft in the news for one philanthropic pursuit or another, but currently set with a darkness and a sharp seriousness that typically isn’t seen outside the fields of war. The gun in her hand didn’t bother her; in a second, she could stop the bullet if it became an issue. Her eyes flicked to the window, previously vacated, and she knew pretty quickly what had brought him here, not that it bothered her. She, of all people, had very little room to talk.

”You’re a man of action, so I won’t waste your time. I come to you with a proposition.”

Victor stared at her for a moment, before lowering the pistol.

"Talk while we move. It doesn't take long for the police to show up when something like that happens. And the ones in this area are pretty good. They'll find this place soon enough," he replied, as he slid the pistol into its holster under his coat. He turned himself around for a moment, and reached out with a food to scratch a message into the dust on the floor, and then turned back to her.

"If you can't keep up, I'm sure a person of your resources can find a way to contact me," he continued, before he pushed gently past her.

As he did, he glanced back at her, and then began to jog, heading out the doorway, and into the hall. He turned down the hall, and made his way to the stairs. He stopped for a moment, slung the gun case across his back by the strap, and then peering down the stairwell, jumped over the side.

One...
Two...
Thr-
*thump*

Landing on his feet, with his knees bent, Victor came up with his hand out, pushing the emergency exit door open.

Out in the Vegas sun, he turned left, away from the building, the body, and what was sure to be, now, a growing crowd of people who were calling for 911.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, pressed on the screen a few times, and held it up to his ear. He waited a few seconds, while the phone rang, and a quiet "Yes?" sounded on the other end

"It's done. I expect payment in the account I sent you. You can confirm it on the news tonight, I'm sure," he replied, before hanging the phone up and dropping it back into his pocket.

She paid no mind to the words written on the ground, nor did she sully the challenge with words of her own. Rather, the smirk she gave him was cursory, expectant, as if everything was playing exactly how she had planned it. And in a way, it was. She certainly didn’t expect an individual as independent as The Asset to come with her on the first try, nor could she expect someone as mysterious as him, who took such great pains to hide his past, to trust a stranger. No, a challenge was necessary, to prove to him, in his mind, she was worthy. And it could be fun, in a way. Been a long time since she’d played tag.

As he picked up the speed, Katrina darted into action herself. Like released from a sling, she went over the side of the building, a drop of speeding black against the daytime sky. Faster, faster, hair loosing from the tie until it streamed behind her like a curtain of ink- and then, a flash of gold, a single flip, and she landed without a sound, touching down as lightly and softly as a falling feather. The floor was hot against her bare feet, but she paid it no mind, padding off in the direction of her target. One particularly drunk tourist tried to get a little friendly, but he left that encounter with a broken, a reminder so he would not try it again.

”Well, that was rather exciting, wasn’t it? Will you hear me out now, or should I go hide while you seek?”

Victor glanced back at her as she landed, and lifted an eyebrow slightly.

"That's a neat trick," he remarked, as he straightened his gun bag. "Is it advanced tech, or magic?" he asked, as he looked forward again. He nimbly dodged past a drunken tourist, one hand slipping under his coat to check his guns, wallet, and keys once he was past the man. He took a left turn, down an alley, and pulled a key ring from his pocket. He pressed a button on a fob, and a loud BEEP sounded from under a tarp-covered car sitting there. He pulled the tarp from the car, and began to fold it, before placing it, and the rifle bag in the trunk.

"Get in the car if you want to talk, Ms. Russel. I've got a plane to board today, and my car needs loaded before it can leave. You're welcome to ride with me, and pitch your offer while I drive," he offered, as he slid into the drivers seat, and turned the car on. It came to life with a roar, and then settled into a rumble as it idled.

The smirk played about her lips again, returning easy enough to be evident that it was, indeed, a mainstay of her personality. She didn’t honor his question with a response, simply following him. In the meantime, she made herself look a little more … presentable. The skintight armor and leather was cool-looking and perfect for the sort of mission where stealth is required, but not so for wandering the streets of Vegas. Or, she amended as a car was revealed, the tarp stowed away rather easily. Signs that he’s done this before, as should be expected of a professional. Katrina stood in the garage, looking … different. It was done so casually, it was doubtful anyone outside of the most astute would notice.Her black curtain of hair, previously done in a tight ponytail, was free now, cascading down her shoulders, a slight curl to the ends. A shawl across her face was loosened and pulled down around her neck forming a loose collars. And with the leather outerwear removed, the skintight material underneath possessing just enough material to be appropriate. The effect was somewhat ruined by her bare feet and the presence of a golden belt bristling with more hardware than your modern military plane, but se no longer looked like the part of an assassin.

”Oh? Won’t you open a door for a lady?”

The dryly sarcastic remark was followed by the door opening, gracefully getting in the ar and buckling her belt. Dangerous? Sure, for any other women. She had the feeling that he knew, if he tried anything, it would, at the very least, be mutually assured destruction.

”My ‘offer’, as you put it, is quite simple. I wish to employ your services for an operation of mine.” She pulled a device from one of the many pockets inside her; a strange, circular thing, it was about two inches in diameter. This device only had a single button emblazoned with a strange insignia; a black sword with matching scroll in place of a hilt, red ribbon wrapped around both, on a silver shield of a background. ”This … is the official insignia of the Blackguard, a division of Olympus, whom I’m sure a professional like you knows all about.” Olympus had risen suddenly on the global scale, a sort of modern mercenary organization crossed with a paramilitary force. Though they did accept contracts, most of their forces tended to be deployed for the greater good, working without support from governments. And not always on the side of the law.

”I’m putting together a group of unique individuals, people with powers, to handle tasks normal soldiers cannot. We need someone like you. Grounded, skilled. Someone who won’t hesitate to pull the trigger should things get rough.” Cold eyes watched him boring a hole in the side of his head; she could likely determine the course of the conversation, but she could never really know. So she kept her guard, ready to, if necessary, stop him.

"The lady can open her own door. She's not crippled," came the reply from inside the car. Victor glanced over at her and shook his head, softly. A unitard, in Las Vegas wasn't out of the ordinary, but in broad daylight? Good thing I parked the car close by, he thought to himself. With her in the car, he put it in gear, and pulled out of the alley, merging onto the street, and heading for the airport. As he drove, he glanced at her, watching as she pulled a button from a pocket, and showed it to him. He raised an eyebrow, and listened. When she was done, he smiled softly.

"You want to hire me, to come work for your Olypmus group? As a hired gun? If you managed to find me, then I assume you know that my targets tend to be people the law can't exactly touch. In fact, at one point in time, I'm pretty sure I got an offer to take you out," he replied, as he turned his eyes back to the road, to take the exit leading to the airport. He chuckled, softly, at her last statement, and pulled the car to a stop at the entrance.

"You're not asking me to lead this group, right? Because if so, that's not happening," he remarked, as he rolled his window down, fished a card from a pocket of his coat, and handed it to the guard at the gate. He waited a moment, while the man checked the card against something on his computer screen, handed the card back, and pressed a button. The gate opened, and Victor pulled the car in. He hummed for a moment to himself, as he drove to the hanger where the plane was waiting, before pulling to a stop and setting the car in park. He turned to fully face Katrina, and lifted an eyebrow slightly.

"I'm interested. And I'm out of work at the moment. So, I'll tell you what. I assume I'm not the last on your list, or I'd be greatly insulted. So, how about you give me some more details on how this works, I'll look over it during my flight, and I'll let you know what I've decided before I land. Hell, I'll even give you a ride anywhere you want to go," he offered, as he turned the car off, opened the door, and slid out. Once his feet touched the ground, he moved around to the other side, and opened her door for her, offering a hand as well.

The drive was calm, the Vegas sun beating down on the car unfelt by the occupants inside. She was a silent companion, his questions and comments not falling on deaf ears, exactly, but eliciting no response from the mute woman. Patience was the key here, and discussing such confidential things in this vehicle was not something she was comfortable with. A car could be bugged in many different ways, and she wasn’t entirely certain that a mercenary so notably cautious wouldn’t bug himself, just in case. In his situation, she would. The car came to a stop at an airport, one of the many small strips that cover Las Vegas. Just as she moved to open her own door, per his suggestion, it was opened for her. This was greeted with a raised eyebrow and a proffered hand. As he pointed out, she was quite capable herself, but it would have been rude to refuse.

The hand she slowly slipped out of his was soft on the outside, the skin well-moistorized but with the nails painted a sparkling shade of blue, the one concession she allowed herself. However, the telltale signs of a hard life were there; a long healed scar on her thumb, callous on her fingers but particularly her pinky, and the strength with which she gripped him. She was no simple diplomat, if that wasn't clear enough already. Out in the sun, the full force of the heat beat down on her, and she was feeling regret with her choice of outfit. Sweating wasn’t something she liked to do, so she was more than glad to take his offer of a ride. A they walked to whichever plane was his, she decided to finally answer his questions. His questions certainly hinted at an interest, at least, and if it comes down to it … knowledge can only be kept secret one way, after all.

”You would not be in a leadership capacity, and you would be a lot more than a hired gun.” She brushed her hair thoughtfully behind her hair, fixing him with another stare of hers. ”Olympus may be a force of good in the world, but Blackguard is a force for change. We do the jobs no one can or wants to do. Blackguard acts in the capacity of the world at large; on a global alignment scale, I’m sure it differs, as those who taste our blade certainly think we are demons sent from hell.” Her smirk was self-satisfied and constant. ”We act separately from the rest of Division, and are all equals. The only leader is me, and my word is absolute. If that is a concern for you, I will leave now and both of us will act as if this conversation never happened. Otherwise, press the button.” She gestured in the general direction of the device he had been handed. ”It contains text files detailing everything you could wish to know about Olympus; missions we’ve completed, missions statements, and our numbers of each division, specifically. Barring confidential information, this should answer any questions you have. And, it’s designed to interface with any existing or theoretical computing device.” She sounded rather proud of that last part.

After helping her up out of the car, he tilted his head, staring down at her for a moment. He felt all the imperfections in her skin, and grinned softly to himself. He didn't have any of those, anymore, and he wondered if she could feel the perfection that was his own skin. Victor moved around to the trunk of the car, and lifted a bag up out of it. He carried the bag to the plane, listening as she spoke. He stopped at the stairs leading onto the plane, and pulled his phone from his pocket. He pressed a few buttons, nodded, and slid the phone back into his pocket.

"Well, good. I don't want a leadership capactiy. Had enough of that," he remarked, his face darkening slightly. Then the look was gone, leaving his face blank again. He cleared his throat, and gestured up the stairs. "It's been a while since I went global. Looking forward too it," he replied, as he followed her up into the plane. He took the device back into his free hand and ran across the button. He waited until they were in the plane.

"Pilot will be here shortly. The gate guard is informing him," he told her, as he lowered himself into a seat. He set the bag down next to him, and lifted the device to stare at it for a moment, before he reached up with his free hand to adjust the hair above his left ear. He peeled part of the skin down, and away from the back of his ear, revealing a metal part of his skull, with a connector port built into it. He held the device up to it, and pressed the button, at the same time pressing the device against the port. He blinked, and then leaned forward. His eyes flashed brightly, and briefly, before returning to their original grey. He lowered both his hands into his lap and sat there for a moment, as the device worked.

He blinked, and turned his head sharply to face the doorway, as a noise heralded the arrival of the pilot. Victor gestured towards Katrina at the questioning look from the man.

"Wherever she wants to go," he stated. "I've offered her a ride," he finished, before leaning back in his seat and activating the information stored in the device. His eyes darted over to Katrina. "This is a lot of info. Raises more questions, really, after answering the ones I already have." He chuckled softly. "It's like working for Force Recon and Interpol all over again. 'Do as I say, and don't ask questions,' eh? Yeah, alright. I think I can do that. Where too?"

It was a comfortable interior; lacking the creature comforts typically found in the private planes she frequents, of course, but such opulence is few and far between in the transport world. This would be quite suitable. She sat, then, softly, though not once did her muscles loosen. She was still on edge, she always was, her chosen profession left her no choice, though she had to admit he had a way of putting her on ease. Call it charisma or some innate sense of loyalty or what have you, but Katrina felt as if she could trust him. He seemed on board with the idea, even if he vehemently opposed the idea of a leadership position. A quick laugh, and then she was still, noting his reaction. There was a story there she would unearth in time.

Idle curiosity drew her to watch him as he seemed to peel away his skin, revealing the mechanic exo-skeleton underneath. Curiosity grew to amazement as the device was pressed to a small port above his ear, the sigil flashing in the telltale sign of information transference. So. So. It appears he was an android or robot of some sort. How fascinating. No wonder there was no information on him; a living, sentient machine would of course possess the resources necessary to scour his name off any sort of public record. Most likely, all information - birth records and such - were stored in a secure server in a base somewhere. No worries, he’d reveal his secrets eventually. Until then …

”Japan. There’s a crisis going on there. I need you to make contact with a politician, name of Takekeda. Protect him at all costs, my informants suggest someone may be after him.” A pocket was flicked open and an envelope pulled out, addressed simply to his codename, as if she knew he would accept. The smirk playing about the corners of her lips suggested that was exactly her train of thought. Inside, a wad of cash roughly equaling three thousand pounds, and directions to a pier in England. ”Once you’re done, meet me there. In the meantime, let us enjoy the ride.” With that, she let the light frame her, gently closing her eyes to enjoy the motion of the plane.