Luxury Hotel Infiltration and Pyromania (Freyia)

Los Angeles, California, 4:43 PM
W Hotel

Locus, amnesiac supergenius with a tendency to create spheres of energy and kill people with them, stepped through the doors of the W hotel. Dressed in a rather expensive and fancy-looking European-style suit and coat, he definitely looked the part of his alias, Charles Carmichael. Several people were in the lobby, and neither he nor his HUD classified any of them as persons of interest. Still, it was never bad to be too cautious. Especially since potential enemies could be anyone, anywhere.

As for why he was there, Locus was planning to set up a trap for the person belonging to one of the names on his list, one Edgar Volkoff, who was due to arrive at the hotel in a few hours. When that was done, he'd scope out any potential hitmen in the immediate area and eliminate them to avoid complications, return, and wait.

His eyes slid across a decently voluptuous redhead as he approached the front desk, but otherwise took no interest in her; distractions would swiftly lead to death when it came to BLUEBIRD and their various agents.

“Reservation under Charles Carmichael...”

After an exchange of money and a keycard, Locus strode over to the wide gradual-spiral staircase and the elevator on the floor above.

One of Freyia's favorite non-violent pastimes was wrapping people around her fingers. Men tended to be easier as they were less suspicious of pretty girls than women were. A smirk curled over the redhead's lips as she thought that; she loved using sexism against people. Though it was often far too easy to portray herself as the innocent girl in need of a big strong sugar daddy to save her.

I think I'll play the vixen this time, she thought as she spotted a good mark. He didn't seem like the type to be interested in the little girl act, which was just fine by her. In fact, it was usually more fun to play the seductress, partially because it came so naturally to her. It was also a bit more difficult. Most guys easily fell for the innocent, since they tended to already believe at least on a subconscious level (though often it was conscious) that girls were weak. Playing the little girl took advantage of that belief, whereas the seductress took finesse. She had to portray enough mystique to pique the target's interest but not seem too intimidating.

The heels of her stilettos clicked on the staircase as she slinked down, like a lioness stalking her prey. "Hey there," she purred, "What's your name, handsome?" Her fingers wrapped around the man's tie in a seemingly delicate manner. In reality, if she really wanted to Freyia could easily use that grip to strangle him. She probably wouldn't though. LA was nice; Freyia really didn't want to have to leave so soon.

Locus heard the distinctive clack of high-heels on the hard steps a second before looking up. It was the redhead from earlier, and she had her eyes fixed on him. He recognized that kind of gaze; it was saturated with the hungry cunning of a predator. A small sphere formed in the palm of one hand facing away from her, ready to explode or rocket into her chest at the slightest mental twitch from him.

Three steps were taken by Locus, and then the redhead halted and made a move towards him. He subtly curled the fingers of his hand as he stared into her eyes from behind his sleek glasses. Then, she spoke, and moved closer to take hold of his tie. Locus' mind exploded into a startlingly large array of ideas and actions as he attempted to figure her out.

Was she an assassin? Spy? Prostitute? Or just a someone with pretty good seduction skills who wanted a good time? Regardless, he figured it would be in his best interest to play along for the time being, at least until he knew what she wanted; and after then, who knew? If she was just someone who'd taken an interest in him--which he doubted--he might be able to convince her to...hold off on the activity proper until after he'd dealt with Volkoff.

He dismissed the sphere as he brought his hand up to clasp the redhead's that had a hold of his red-and-steel tie. A smile came across his face as he looked into her eyes, slightly crooked in a vaguely mischievous expression that he believed someone of her type would like.

“I am Charles Carmichael,” Locus introduced himself while nodding slowly. “And what would your name be, my dear?”

There was a flicker of something in the man's eyes, Freyia hadn't gotten a clear look at it but it made her pause. It seemed as if he were studying her, and Freyia wasn't used to that. She was used to steamrolling her marks and watching them flounder. Usually it didn't take much steamrolling though, just a flip of her hair and a flash of skin was usually enough to make them roll over behave for her.

She briefly considered cutting her losses and running, but the idea of a challenge intrigued her. Keeping the sultry smile fixed on her lips, Freyia let go of Charles's tie, smoothing it out as she replied. "Freyia, like the goddess." Perhaps her name wasn't the best choice, as it was quite clearly an alias and tended to make people think she was a prostitute, but she quite enjoyed it. Not to mention that she technically was a prostitute, since the main reason she flirted was to con money out of her marks.