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Aug 25, 2017 1:58:50 GMT -5
Post by LβEΜα΄Κα΄Ι΄Ι’α΄Κ on Aug 25, 2017 1:58:50 GMT -5
He had never been a fan of settling in one place for too long. That definitely included Malakai's accursed and beloved United Kingdom. He would never understand Malakai's fondness completely. It was understandable, he shared the same love for Paris, but then again Paris had always been better. Or perhaps that was his opinion because he was a Frenchman. There was no saying for sure, given the constant rivalry between France and the UK. Whatever it was, he could only spend his time idly staring out the window, watching as his last cigarette burnt away at an achingly fast pace. God damn, he should have stocked up before coming to England for a job.
It seemed like ages when he heard the quiet knock on his door. The sky outside had went grey, the Big Ben a formidable figure but nothing compared to the Eiffel Tower. He knew better than to mention that conversation topic once again, however. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed towards the door, the familiar sound of Mal's knock enough to warrant him to throw caution out of the window for once. Tugging the door to his hotel room open, he watched as Mal enter the room with arms spread wide even as he kicked the door shut with a rather obnoxiously loud bang.
Smiling in response, he returned the gesture allowing Mal to pull him into a warm embrace. It was familiar in a way that he had missed for a number of months. Mal and his schedules were far too conflicting, what with the work for S.A.F.E and Mal's own missions for the MI6. Untangling himself from the other man, he raised an eyebrow. It had been a long time since Mal came into contact for no reason other than to have a good time, and he hadn't told Mal ahead of time that he was coming but somehow Malakai had known to reach out. Heading over to the kitchen counter, he picked up the bottle of red wine he had bought just for his meeting with Mal. The room was just for the night. He'd take off not long after. He knew better.
"So what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mal?" There was no maliciousness in his voice, only blatant curiosity because in Malakai's presence he knew he was safe. They had worked together for enough years. They had slept together numerous times, they were good friends, and he dared said they were lovers. Settling into one of the seats, a rather undignified take out meal on the table, he tilted his head to a side, regarding the older man with a fair amount of interest. "I'm not complaining," oh no, he certainly wasn't. "But how did you even know I was in England to reach out to me?"
"Yes," Mal cleared his throat, clearly uninterested in talking about why he had came. It must have been something regarding the MI6. The two of them had made a pact long before he had worked for S.A.F.E. and had still been foolishly dedicating his life to the Service. They never spoke about their own agencies. They were professionals at the end of the day, trade secrets remained trade secrets. "That's why I came, actually," the other spy helped himself to one of the empty glasses, pouring a glass of wine and pushing it Al's direction before pouring himself one.
There was an uneasy silence as Mal drew out the confrontation, grabbing his own meal and picking at it in silence. Alphonse didn't speak up, rather choosing to wait for a response than push for it or change the topic. "There's news of this old gig of yours on your tail. Something about hunting 'Ghost', if you know what I mean," Mal's words were blunt, though the other man had a talent for weaving lies there was only truth here. Opening his own box, he thoughtfully ate the food. This was new. "Well, turns out they know you're here somehow and news has been going more than a little wild in the criminal underground. I heard it from one of my contacts that there's about to be a bloody shoot out in London."
Chuckling softly, he looked at the outraged expression on Mal's face before shaking his head. "I would have noticed if someone is on my tail," it wasn't a lie. It was basics. Training involved knowing when there was a tail on them, when they had been marked, and when their position was compromised. He'd been working the job for 25 years, give or take a couple of months. It would have been a rookie mistake to let down his guard, especially when he was after a mark. "Besides, I don't leave loose ends." He had stopped eating, more interested in who could have possibly wanted him dead.
The only people he knew that wanted him dead were other spies and agencies and the children and relatives of the odd jobs he took. But there was no way they would have pinned it on 'Ghost' and not some other rogue unit. Apparently Mal had the same opinion as him because the older spy merely shook his head in response. "I know you would have, but I think there's a mole in S.A.F.E. or something. They know you're in London, they don't know where yet, but for old time's sake Al, I came to give you a warning," the older spy sounded honest and he couldn't fault him.
"Do you know who put out the kill notice?" The subject interested him far more than the concept of dying terrified him and he found himself leaning a tad bit closer, enough that he could see the slight furrow of Mal's eyebrows as the other man contemplated the question.
There was a fair deal of helplessness as Mal shrugged. "No. If I did, I'd kill the bastard myself and leave it at that."
It was nice to hear that coming from Mal. Knowing that, at the end of the day, the MI6 operative was on his side, it was a good feeling. But he also knew that as much freedom as S.A.F.E. and the MI6 gave them, it was better if their relations remained hidden. There was no saying the consequences of relationships like theirs coming to light. Two spies from two different organizations? Dear god, the controversy. And to make it worse they were men.
"Well, I'm glad you told me, I'll watch out for my own back. And when things blow over," he said, mood lighter now that the conversation was close to finished, "I'll come back to London. We can spend a week together before I have to go home to Seraphin. The months between jobs don't give any of us enough time." Sighing quietly, he resigned himself to picking at his own food with disinterest. Honestly, he wasn't even worried about being hunted. Who were they going to send after the anonymous Ghost? Some twenty or so bounty hunter? The occasional thirty some sniper? The even rarer forty year old mercenary?
He had dispatched of them. They had been liabilities. The ones that hadn't been had ended up working for him as contacts and informants. In this line of work, they were either friend or foe. And that gave them two options. Kill or be killed. Eating thoughtfully, he kept his gaze lingering on Mal's face, watching the way the light hit his features making him look harder and older than he usually did. There were bags under the other spy's eyes too. Was it stress or overexertion? Squinting suspiciously, he made no comment as they finished the rest of their meal in silence after Mal's consenting hum of agreement.
The rest of the night was spent rather domestically. Mal had stuck around after they had spent the night around, holding him in bed and falling asleep. When it came time for morning, he was the one to wake up first. Glancing over Mal's nude sleeping figure briefly, he spent the time to take in the sight - much better than the Big Ben, definitely much better - he pressed a gentle kiss to the other man's forehead before untangling himself from the limbs thrown carelessly over him. The morning was quiet. He took a shower, he got dressed, he cleaned up the signs of life, and he slipped a note into Mal's pocket and disappeared.
It was evening when something felt wrong for the first time. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he glanced discreetly back, the sound of footfall heavy around him. He wouldn't be able to isolate somebody who was tailing him like this. Turning down an alleyway, he remained discreet and uninterested in his surroundings, keeping his head lowered. It was too early for this kind of sh*t. He heard it then, the sound of a light figure walking behind him a fair distance. Turning another quick corner, he stood at the turn awaiting his tail to follow him. Predictably enough, they did.
Pushing the figure into the stone wall after catching the younger and smaller man by surprise, he pressed his body weight into the other making him still his struggles. His voice was soft, gentler than most would have assumed it to be. "Who sent you?"
"N-nobody, I was just... just walking," the younger man stammered out and as he looked down at the mousy man in his grip he couldn't help but frown. Either this individual who wanted him dead was really desperate for employees or they wanted to test his capabilities. Either way...
Pulling his knife from his suit with one hand, he flipped it open carelessly and pressed it gently against the man's jugular. "I won't ask again," he said the words calmly, knowing full well from the trembling of the younger man that he was untrained. This was new. And strange. He didn't like new or strange. It made him feel like something was off. He didn't like it when people were one step ahead of him.
"I-I just got fifty pounds to follow you and go back to tell a man what you're doing," the man was nervous and scared. Understandable, all things considered. "I swear to God!" He exclaimed, louder than Alphonse would have liked it. "I d-don't know who hired me, I was just doing what he asked of me."
He prouded himself on the ability to distinguish when somebody was lying to him. And as far as he was concerned, he didn't feel like this young man in particular was lying to him. Pushing the man against the wall one more time as a warning, he stepped back, flipping his balisong shut. "Tell your employer I'm at the Hyde Park Hotel, Room 105. I haven't left."
There was a long silence as the man remained on the ground as if too fearful to move. Shuffling his foot lazily in the snow, he glanced down at the nervous wreck, hands kept cautiously in his pockets in case he needed his knife once again. "If you fail, I will find you. And next time, I'll kill you. Now go." Those words seemed to do the trick because being told to flee was enough for the younger man to scramble to his feet, fleeing before Alphonse had any time to contemplate the consequences of his actions. Honestly, if the man knew what was good for him, he'd lie.
Any f*ck ups from there would be the actual operative's fault for coming late or letting him slip away. If the man exposed he had been caught, he would be killed as a liability. It was plain and simple. Either way, either his unknown enemy would do his dirty work for him or the young man would be alright. It wasn't his problem anymore. It was out of his hands. And he had been hoping today would be a decent day. Hell, now the secondary brand he had bought to smoke for the time being only seemed worse.
Cracking open his cigarette case, he left to go to Hyde Park Hotel. The slums weren't necessarily a place he'd like, especially not the London slums which housed the less savory folk and, well, prostitutes and addicts, but it was fine. He'd been through areas like this before. Besides, he didn't quite mind the former that much, not for a couple of minutes, anyhow. It was a good way to pass the time. Having settled in his hotel room, he left the contents disorganized and definitely used in a matter uncharacteristic of himself. But whoever was on his tail wouldn't know. They would just know it was used.
Leaving the shower running, he left a cheeky note 'You're a step too late, I suggest you pick up the pace or drop the case.' on the bathroom vanity. He didn't leave the scene however. He only left the room, standing outside the building and blending in with the other common folk after trading his - and this hurt quite a fair bit - tailored suit for various apparel from the homeless. The coarse fabric was familiar in a nostalgic way, but he didn't think about it too much as he settled onto the ground near the drug addicts carefully keeping his eyes peeled on any figure approaching the Hyde Park Hotel. This was his chance to see who was on his case. He had no doubt they would be rather obvious in this area.
Well dressed, frustrated, young, and definitely not a prostitute or drug addict. Well, that should be easy enough, he mused as he lighted a cigarette lazily. Drawing a drag, he kept his head tilted away from Hyde Park even as he watched cautiously. This was going to be fun. Sarcasm absolutely intended. The clothes were starting to itch, hell he didn't know how long they hadn't been washed but he'd take a damn long shower after shaking the individual on his tail. Or worse, killing them. He didn't really have a preference.
It seemed like ages when he heard the quiet knock on his door. The sky outside had went grey, the Big Ben a formidable figure but nothing compared to the Eiffel Tower. He knew better than to mention that conversation topic once again, however. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed towards the door, the familiar sound of Mal's knock enough to warrant him to throw caution out of the window for once. Tugging the door to his hotel room open, he watched as Mal enter the room with arms spread wide even as he kicked the door shut with a rather obnoxiously loud bang.
Smiling in response, he returned the gesture allowing Mal to pull him into a warm embrace. It was familiar in a way that he had missed for a number of months. Mal and his schedules were far too conflicting, what with the work for S.A.F.E and Mal's own missions for the MI6. Untangling himself from the other man, he raised an eyebrow. It had been a long time since Mal came into contact for no reason other than to have a good time, and he hadn't told Mal ahead of time that he was coming but somehow Malakai had known to reach out. Heading over to the kitchen counter, he picked up the bottle of red wine he had bought just for his meeting with Mal. The room was just for the night. He'd take off not long after. He knew better.
"So what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Mal?" There was no maliciousness in his voice, only blatant curiosity because in Malakai's presence he knew he was safe. They had worked together for enough years. They had slept together numerous times, they were good friends, and he dared said they were lovers. Settling into one of the seats, a rather undignified take out meal on the table, he tilted his head to a side, regarding the older man with a fair amount of interest. "I'm not complaining," oh no, he certainly wasn't. "But how did you even know I was in England to reach out to me?"
"Yes," Mal cleared his throat, clearly uninterested in talking about why he had came. It must have been something regarding the MI6. The two of them had made a pact long before he had worked for S.A.F.E. and had still been foolishly dedicating his life to the Service. They never spoke about their own agencies. They were professionals at the end of the day, trade secrets remained trade secrets. "That's why I came, actually," the other spy helped himself to one of the empty glasses, pouring a glass of wine and pushing it Al's direction before pouring himself one.
There was an uneasy silence as Mal drew out the confrontation, grabbing his own meal and picking at it in silence. Alphonse didn't speak up, rather choosing to wait for a response than push for it or change the topic. "There's news of this old gig of yours on your tail. Something about hunting 'Ghost', if you know what I mean," Mal's words were blunt, though the other man had a talent for weaving lies there was only truth here. Opening his own box, he thoughtfully ate the food. This was new. "Well, turns out they know you're here somehow and news has been going more than a little wild in the criminal underground. I heard it from one of my contacts that there's about to be a bloody shoot out in London."
Chuckling softly, he looked at the outraged expression on Mal's face before shaking his head. "I would have noticed if someone is on my tail," it wasn't a lie. It was basics. Training involved knowing when there was a tail on them, when they had been marked, and when their position was compromised. He'd been working the job for 25 years, give or take a couple of months. It would have been a rookie mistake to let down his guard, especially when he was after a mark. "Besides, I don't leave loose ends." He had stopped eating, more interested in who could have possibly wanted him dead.
The only people he knew that wanted him dead were other spies and agencies and the children and relatives of the odd jobs he took. But there was no way they would have pinned it on 'Ghost' and not some other rogue unit. Apparently Mal had the same opinion as him because the older spy merely shook his head in response. "I know you would have, but I think there's a mole in S.A.F.E. or something. They know you're in London, they don't know where yet, but for old time's sake Al, I came to give you a warning," the older spy sounded honest and he couldn't fault him.
"Do you know who put out the kill notice?" The subject interested him far more than the concept of dying terrified him and he found himself leaning a tad bit closer, enough that he could see the slight furrow of Mal's eyebrows as the other man contemplated the question.
There was a fair deal of helplessness as Mal shrugged. "No. If I did, I'd kill the bastard myself and leave it at that."
It was nice to hear that coming from Mal. Knowing that, at the end of the day, the MI6 operative was on his side, it was a good feeling. But he also knew that as much freedom as S.A.F.E. and the MI6 gave them, it was better if their relations remained hidden. There was no saying the consequences of relationships like theirs coming to light. Two spies from two different organizations? Dear god, the controversy. And to make it worse they were men.
"Well, I'm glad you told me, I'll watch out for my own back. And when things blow over," he said, mood lighter now that the conversation was close to finished, "I'll come back to London. We can spend a week together before I have to go home to Seraphin. The months between jobs don't give any of us enough time." Sighing quietly, he resigned himself to picking at his own food with disinterest. Honestly, he wasn't even worried about being hunted. Who were they going to send after the anonymous Ghost? Some twenty or so bounty hunter? The occasional thirty some sniper? The even rarer forty year old mercenary?
He had dispatched of them. They had been liabilities. The ones that hadn't been had ended up working for him as contacts and informants. In this line of work, they were either friend or foe. And that gave them two options. Kill or be killed. Eating thoughtfully, he kept his gaze lingering on Mal's face, watching the way the light hit his features making him look harder and older than he usually did. There were bags under the other spy's eyes too. Was it stress or overexertion? Squinting suspiciously, he made no comment as they finished the rest of their meal in silence after Mal's consenting hum of agreement.
The rest of the night was spent rather domestically. Mal had stuck around after they had spent the night around, holding him in bed and falling asleep. When it came time for morning, he was the one to wake up first. Glancing over Mal's nude sleeping figure briefly, he spent the time to take in the sight - much better than the Big Ben, definitely much better - he pressed a gentle kiss to the other man's forehead before untangling himself from the limbs thrown carelessly over him. The morning was quiet. He took a shower, he got dressed, he cleaned up the signs of life, and he slipped a note into Mal's pocket and disappeared.
It was evening when something felt wrong for the first time. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he glanced discreetly back, the sound of footfall heavy around him. He wouldn't be able to isolate somebody who was tailing him like this. Turning down an alleyway, he remained discreet and uninterested in his surroundings, keeping his head lowered. It was too early for this kind of sh*t. He heard it then, the sound of a light figure walking behind him a fair distance. Turning another quick corner, he stood at the turn awaiting his tail to follow him. Predictably enough, they did.
Pushing the figure into the stone wall after catching the younger and smaller man by surprise, he pressed his body weight into the other making him still his struggles. His voice was soft, gentler than most would have assumed it to be. "Who sent you?"
"N-nobody, I was just... just walking," the younger man stammered out and as he looked down at the mousy man in his grip he couldn't help but frown. Either this individual who wanted him dead was really desperate for employees or they wanted to test his capabilities. Either way...
Pulling his knife from his suit with one hand, he flipped it open carelessly and pressed it gently against the man's jugular. "I won't ask again," he said the words calmly, knowing full well from the trembling of the younger man that he was untrained. This was new. And strange. He didn't like new or strange. It made him feel like something was off. He didn't like it when people were one step ahead of him.
"I-I just got fifty pounds to follow you and go back to tell a man what you're doing," the man was nervous and scared. Understandable, all things considered. "I swear to God!" He exclaimed, louder than Alphonse would have liked it. "I d-don't know who hired me, I was just doing what he asked of me."
He prouded himself on the ability to distinguish when somebody was lying to him. And as far as he was concerned, he didn't feel like this young man in particular was lying to him. Pushing the man against the wall one more time as a warning, he stepped back, flipping his balisong shut. "Tell your employer I'm at the Hyde Park Hotel, Room 105. I haven't left."
There was a long silence as the man remained on the ground as if too fearful to move. Shuffling his foot lazily in the snow, he glanced down at the nervous wreck, hands kept cautiously in his pockets in case he needed his knife once again. "If you fail, I will find you. And next time, I'll kill you. Now go." Those words seemed to do the trick because being told to flee was enough for the younger man to scramble to his feet, fleeing before Alphonse had any time to contemplate the consequences of his actions. Honestly, if the man knew what was good for him, he'd lie.
Any f*ck ups from there would be the actual operative's fault for coming late or letting him slip away. If the man exposed he had been caught, he would be killed as a liability. It was plain and simple. Either way, either his unknown enemy would do his dirty work for him or the young man would be alright. It wasn't his problem anymore. It was out of his hands. And he had been hoping today would be a decent day. Hell, now the secondary brand he had bought to smoke for the time being only seemed worse.
Cracking open his cigarette case, he left to go to Hyde Park Hotel. The slums weren't necessarily a place he'd like, especially not the London slums which housed the less savory folk and, well, prostitutes and addicts, but it was fine. He'd been through areas like this before. Besides, he didn't quite mind the former that much, not for a couple of minutes, anyhow. It was a good way to pass the time. Having settled in his hotel room, he left the contents disorganized and definitely used in a matter uncharacteristic of himself. But whoever was on his tail wouldn't know. They would just know it was used.
Leaving the shower running, he left a cheeky note 'You're a step too late, I suggest you pick up the pace or drop the case.' on the bathroom vanity. He didn't leave the scene however. He only left the room, standing outside the building and blending in with the other common folk after trading his - and this hurt quite a fair bit - tailored suit for various apparel from the homeless. The coarse fabric was familiar in a nostalgic way, but he didn't think about it too much as he settled onto the ground near the drug addicts carefully keeping his eyes peeled on any figure approaching the Hyde Park Hotel. This was his chance to see who was on his case. He had no doubt they would be rather obvious in this area.
Well dressed, frustrated, young, and definitely not a prostitute or drug addict. Well, that should be easy enough, he mused as he lighted a cigarette lazily. Drawing a drag, he kept his head tilted away from Hyde Park even as he watched cautiously. This was going to be fun. Sarcasm absolutely intended. The clothes were starting to itch, hell he didn't know how long they hadn't been washed but he'd take a damn long shower after shaking the individual on his tail. Or worse, killing them. He didn't really have a preference.