|
Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 27, 2017 2:59:34 GMT -5
Alphonse Fournier alias: Ghost occupation: Hitman location: unknown warehouse in Paris, France
He wasn't quite sure how he had ended up here. He worked outside of France often though Paris had always been home to him. He worked for multiple employers. Mafia, police, politicians, businessmen, military commanders. Whoever paid the right price for a hit was a prospective employer as long as the jobs fitted his requirements, he didn't mind them. He was good at what he did. Alphonse had never needed a partner, though he could play nice enough to work along with others. But the recent arrest of a Finnish drug overlord who had been involved in the murder of one of his colleagues was the biggest news over any and all media outlets in the European news networks.
It was honestly exhausting in his opinion. He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten roped into all of it in the very end, considering how well he cleaned up his messes, but the employer for the case that had gotten his colleague killed had demanded he testified in court for whatever reason. As if going to testify wasn't incriminating for those who knew of his existence. The media outlets knew him as Ghost. His face was unknown and his real identity was equally anonymous. He certainly hoped that Anton knew exactly what the f*ck he was getting him into, because if this turned out to be a lot more work than the promised payment, he was going to take it to Anton.
Lighting a cigarette, he backed away from the window. He'd been waiting for the "bodyguard" they'd assign to protect him for awhile, but then again, it was probably his fault for coming to designated meeting location a few hours early just to scout out the scene and make sure there was no traps or surprises in store for him. Glancing at the rickety table and chairs with a distasteful expression, he settled into the fold out chair to savor his cigarette slowly. Taking out one of his two revolvers, he placed it down heavily on the table, unconcerned with the noise because he was the only one there at the moment.
He wasn't even sure what his bodyguard looked like. They hadn't spared him the files. And he knew they didn't know what they were in for and they certainly didn't know what he looked like. Oh well, at least with the same shared coordinates to an unmarked warehouse would do all the talking for the two of them. At least, he was under the assumption he only warranted one guard. He wasn't quite sure what his opinion of being outnumbered one to two - or worse, three - was. He just knew the implication was unwelcomed.
If they turned out to be a terrible bunch in some sort of grand plan to get him to testify then screw him over, he was not interested whatsoever. Too bad the f*ck who had killed his colleague deserved what was coming to him. He was a lot of things, but inhumane was not one of them. Sure, he killed people for a living but then again, they weren't good people. Very few people were actually good nowadays.
Ashing his cigarette, he glanced around the warehouse, taking in the cement layout of it. Of all the places they could have met. A nondescript cafe, a small apartment room, or even in a damn park and whoever the hell ran the system chose a ran down warehouse. The walls were stained with dirt and muck, he didn't want to run his gloves along it to find out. There were heavy signs of aging in the building and it was a miracle the architecture hadn't crumbled upon itself. It was like an unfortunate sign of what the next day or so would be like. At least, the trip to Finland was supposed to be a short one. He'd had his fair share of trips to Finland.
Unless things got out of hand. Then again, things usually did when it involved him. Settling comfortably into his seat, he awaited the arrival of his bodyguard. His eyes were carefully watching the door for any sign of movement. His fingers curled around his cigarette a little tighter, the knowledge of the silenced revolver on the table enough for him to feel comfortable with the situation. If it turned out to be a trap, well he'd go down with a fight. And if it wasn't, well, it was never a bad idea to send a warning message about the consequences of becoming his enemy rather than being his ally.
Any moment now, the rumble of an engine, the tale telling sound of footsteps, and the god forsaken creak of the door would mark their arrival. He exhaled the cigarette smoke, turning his head away from the door. He appeared in every way to be unconcerned and unprepared for whatever was to come, though he was ready to react.
|
|
Day
ah university. keeping me off the fun parts of the internet.
|
Post by Day on Aug 27, 2017 16:38:34 GMT -5
oh god. this took so long i'm so sorry. and im terrible and made her a lesbian to keep Al and her ,, professionally...friends:))) jeSus. and i'm pre sure this might have typos bc im terrible at editing so yes </3 apologies :'(
edit: also: i love how Al is just so nonchalant about the whole thing. just smokin' livin' life. luv.
Sheryl C. Thompson alias: Ms. Cherry occupation: Bodyguard location: on the move
The loud clicking of heels was all one could hear.
Except of course for, the urgent tapping of nails on a cell phone and furious, inaudible mumbles.
Each sound was accentuated by the massive, empty, hallways of the Charles de Gaulle Airport. The white tile flooring did a poor job of complimenting the glass sides, looking out onto the Paris suburbs: Roissy-en-France. Cherry was often in France, whether it be helping with escorting high up politicians, or simply board meetings. Rarely was she here out of self interest. Sure, it was a nice city – romantics could always be found in Paris, but Cherry was not one of them. She was career driven and usually very focused of the task at hand.
Much like today’s task. Meeting her new client, acquainting herself with them, and then moving them from one place to another, safely. She had received very little information about him. Simply that the job was urgent and they both needed to be in Finland as soon as possible for a, “criminal trial?” Cherry was reading the email on her phone as she neared the airports exit. What kind of client needs to be moved for a trial? Cherry was dumbfounded, but if anything, her interest had been peaked. What kind of person was she helping? Well, she supposed she would find out soon enough. She walked out the automatic doors of the airport and was immediately greeted by the sun and a black SUV. She shoved her phone in her purse, slipped on her shades and got into the vehicle.
“Hello Ms. Cherry.” She was quickly greeted by Barry, one of her more likable colleagues, he had been driving her to her switch cars for most of her career now. In a way, he was kind of like her bodyguard. Cherry had been a bodyguard for about seven years now. Slowly making her way up the ranks, she was now at one of the highest positions in her company. She has been with IPS (international private security) for the last four years. “Hey Barry,” she responded while she took off her sun glasses, there was no need for them in the tinted car. “Where are we headed today?” her voice was gentle as she eyed him from the rear-view mirror. She always waited until the vehicle was moving and was away from populated areas before getting locations, it was an unnecessary, safety percussion she often took.
Barry adjusted himself in his seat, a small grunt left his mouth before he responded, “We are headed to an old and empty gas station, your new ride awaits you there, the address of your client’s whereabouts is in the glove compartment Ms. Cherry.” He hesitated before adding, "also...Ms. Andrea and her crew are there…” his voice trailed off, as he knew Cherry's reaction would be slightly explosive. The two had not bee getting along recently, because of off duty reasons.
Cherry was looking out the window when Andy’s name was mentioned. “Wait. What?” her nails dug into the car seat slightly as she tried not to seem too...angry. “Why is Andy going to be there, Barry do you know?” this was not part of her plan. That snake. This is my job, my client. She has no right… her thought was cut off when Barry answered, “Ms. It seems she’s just there as a precaution, in correspondence to your…client. Were you not informed of this?” his voice was full of confusion as he looked back at her. Cherry adjusted her jacket with a huff. Irritably, she answered: “No I was not.” and although she was not necessarily mad at Barry, as it wasn’t his fault he was simply the driver, she was done with the conversation and left the two of them in silence for the rest of the drive.
With the car being so quiet, Cherry had some time to think of some reasons Andy was there, with her men at that. Did she think she couldn’t take care of it herself? Was her client, a criminal? Was there danger with this job…more so than usual? Her thoughts were once again interrupted as the car slowed down. Hesitantly, Barry announced that they had arrived. Cherry grabbed her things, quickly thanked him and got out of the car, not saying goodbye. Just as soon as Cherry stepped out and closed the door, Barry had pulled away, leaving Cherry alone at the long abandoned gas station.
As she neared the building she noticed that it was not only abandoned, but completely wrecked. The pumps had all been removed and replaced with cement blocks, the glass from the building itself was all shattered and the roofs paint was almost completely peeled off. Delightful. Cherry reared the building where she unsurprisingly found a car that seemed just as run down as the gas station. They couldn’t have hidden the car better…Though it was appropriate, as no one would assume an important person was being transported in a sh*t car such as this one. Carefully, Cherry opened the unlocked door, found the keys on the passenger seat and gave it a test. It sounded fine when running, as she soon tried the AC to cool the car down. While the car was cooling, she took the time to search the glove compartment for her client’s address. To her surprise, it was a warehouse. What an odd place to pick someone up. It was about an hour away from where she was. There were so many strange aspects to this job that Cherry was ready to just get it over with, and with that, she put her sunglasses back on, put the car into drive and started on her way.
----
Cherry was so focused on her thoughts once more, she didn’t even realize she had arrived. The only reason she noticed last minute, was because she saw another car. It was Andy’s. There she was, with four men, just standing about a few hundred meters away from the warehouse’s entrance. Quickly, she pulled up next to her, turning the car off, the first words out of her mouth were: “Andrea.” A pause, then, “What are you doing here?” she opened the door and stepped out, eyeing her as she did so. Andy just smiled and nodded towards the warehouse, “Let’s go meet your client and you’ll see.” She moved her hand in a forward motion, meaning for her guys to follow her. Unimpressed with her followers and the lack of answer from her former companion, Cherry grudgingly followed as well. The two were bickering the whole walk over, until they got right up to the door.
Once at the door, Cherry got a good look at the place. It too was old and worn down, the walls were all brick, though much of it was starting to crumble. Andy moved past her, saying, “Looks home-y, doesn’t it sunshine?” Cherry’s eyes followed her as she saw Andy begin to push open the doors. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but whatever she had previously thought, was gone once she saw what was inside. It was dimly lit, yet easy to see the single chair, with a man sitting patiently in it. She noted the table with the revolver, but kept her eyes on her client. It was in this moment she realized again, that she really didn’t know anything about her client, or if this was even him. Cherry walked further into the building, her heels clicking once more on the concrete floor. She could hear Andy whisper, “Heels, really?” Though she ignored her as she neared the client.
Cherry placed her hand on her hip, feeling for her gun, as she called out in her most professional voice: “Excuse me Sir, are you awaiting assistance from the IPS?” she quickly looked back for Andy to make sure she was following, she and her men were a few steps behind Cherry. They too, seemed to know little about this job and who this person was. This job was oddly exciting because of the lack of info on it, though Cherry still found it strange she knew so little about her client. Why wouldn’t the IPS want to brief her on who she was helping?
After a few moments of hesitant advancement and no real reactions from the client, Cherry made her way in front of him, looking him up and down. She noticed he was older, about mid forty's maybe he was fifty. Yet now that she saw him, she was immediately less intimidated and straightened up, remembering why she was here – she was here to protect him, not to be weary of him. Crossing her arms and putting her weight onto one leg, she looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer to her previous question.
|
|
|
Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Aug 27, 2017 20:09:24 GMT -5
Alphonse Fournier status: Alive currently: Unamused
If there was one thing he was going to say about the crew that was coming to pick him up, it was that they were loud. Obnoxiously so to the point where he wondered exactly how the bodyguard would pair up with him. He worked solo more often than not and his assassinations were a deed of stealth and cautious planning. On the rare occasion, he took up sniping. But there was a bigger risk factor for him with performing that kind of hit. Most assassinations wouldn't be known for hours, sometimes days depending on how important the target was and how much they got out. A sniping job burnt through the news far too quickly for his own taste and it was dangerous. Even with a silencer, a manhunt wold go out and buildings would be searched and barred.
Gently ashing his cigarette, he was confident that there was more than one person. There had been the sound of a car pulling up. He had been far too unconcerned to check to see who it was. Or how many of them there was, for that matter. And then the second car came. He just hoped that they had been reasonable enough not to park too close to his blue Equus Bass 770. It was common courtesy, in his opinion. He could make out the sounds of quiet conversation, but it was far too soft for him to strain to hear and he wasn't in the mood for trying. At the very least, there was no sounds of altercation going on which meant the two parties must have been from the same employers.
Hearing the doors swing open, he glanced up to make out six figures. Two women, four men. This was quite a caravan. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at them with a thinly veiled expression of amusement. The distaste he felt at being outnumbered didn't show, but he certainly didn't like the odds. But, according to the woman who spoke, they were the IPS. International private security, now was it? He supposed that meant Anton spared them little to no details about himself. But the sheer number of people who were here to 'protect' him made it seem like a carnival on display rather than a protection deal. He would opted for the silent route, but so be it.
"I suppose so," he hummed softly to himself, eyes focused on the unit for any minute movements. Standing up and leaving his revolver on the table - it was a good kind of con, the type that left his enemies feeling a false sense of security, he headed their direction. If things got out of hand, he could take them if he was close enough to one of them. Or he would go down with them. Walking over to the window, he glanced outside at the cars parked near his car. One car in particular was absolutely heinous, an absolute disgrace. Being a collector of cars, seeing something that hideous was... well, it was quite distasteful. "But that begets the question of who you are."
He was close to one of the men, two steps and he would be in grabbing range. Disarm, contain, and manipulate. That was the plan. He wasn't certain if he trusted any of these people. There was no saying if they were even telling the truth, after all. He wanted to know their identifies, or at least their working names. Then, perhaps, there would be progress from there on. Chuckling softly to himself, he tilted his head slightly their direction, glancing at them from the corner of his eye, "I didn't think I warranted such a large unit. I'm certain there are bigger cases, I'm almost touched by this allocation of resources."
The words were quiet and gentle, unassumingly so. He was a soft spoken man, often choosing biting words or sound logic rather than just sheer volume. If he had just listened to Clement's advice, he supposed he wouldn't be here in the first place. Letting the drug lord go just to assassinate him a couple of years down the road wasn't a half bad idea, but Anton was a consistent customer. He was by no means a man who was easily swayed by money, but ruining relations between him and his employers was a surefire way to lose a good deal of jobs down the road. That would not do him any good.
Ah well, at least Seraphin supported his decisions. His wife had always been his better half, the kinder and more honest of the two. Though few would ever imagine him to be married, especially to a kind hearted if not somewhat fearsome woman. He assumed, only naturally, that the one to have spoken was the one on his case. But then again, there seemed to be some kind of tension in the unit that was currently present and he wasn't sure what it was. He knew he had given her little to no details about him, but then again, there were smart criminals out there as well.
A simple yes or no question getting little to no answer, in return asking for more information. It was the intel trade he worked in, the kind of dirty business that handled information from hand to hand. He wasn't the giving kind, especially with little to no information in return from the other party. Unless they bent first, he wasn't going to play the game how they wanted. Besides, he didn't want this. Anton did. He was just being reasonable enough to play along.
Sounds good to me! I don't mind at all :') Also, dw about the typos. We don't proofread and die like men xD My dude, Al has lost all his f*cks years ago. He's a chill dude, but also a cunning old fox. I like the obvious tension between Cherry n Andrea. Spicy. xD
|
|