The Wren: Semi-lit All Species Assassin RP. Accepting

[incompleteicarus]

"So, when did you arrive?" She asked, while scanning the celling for cameras and the front desk. She needed to know the angles of everything. She hadn't chosen this seat by accident. It allowed her a good view of everything.
She laughed softly as the receptionist behind the front desk said, very politely, "Won't you please leave me alone while I'm at work, it's not fair." into a white telephone, one owned by the hotel... Relationship problems.
She ran her fingers through her hair and looked up, the celling was an odd colour. White marble pillars and a grey celling... Clearly this hotel wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

[Noel]

"A few days ago. Four, I think." Riku answered with a shrug, tipping his head back in a yawn, during which he scanned the area behind him, noting the cameras silently: there wasn't an excess of security, that he could see. When he returned his gaze to Rayven, it was clear she was doing the same. He allowed himself to join her quiet laugh, easily hearing the receptionist as well, shooting her an amused glance.

[Tundra]

[[ssorry for my absense, I've been real busy lately. I'll have to catch myself up again XD, but I dont think you guys have gotten far other then the time skip XD. Anyway, ttyl]]

[incompleteicarus]

"Samantha saw Riku's amused look, clearly he'd heard what the receptionist had said.
"That's cool, I've only been here since last night." The plan to stagger their arrival wasn't new, but it did put some distance between them in case anyone became suspicious. "It's so cold here, and there's no swimming pool outside." She nodded her head towards the courtyard, it was absent of life.
As was most of the hotel, seemingly run by very few people that kept themselves hidden, much like the assassins in the guild. She stood up and stretched.
"Well, this hotel's a little boring. I was planning on going for a walk, if you want to join me...?" She left the question hanging. The cafe was the next place to scan, although they had detailed plans of all the security, "Samantha" thought it best to see it with her own eyes. Maybe even become a familiar face with the owner, that would help her get a good seat for the day.
Her mind was suddenly filled with the blurry picture of the woman that she and Riku had to kill. Her tattoos crawled with excitement. She smiled quickly before looking at Riku and raising an eyebrow, Come on!

[Verdana]

//Ty//

The giant genius whistled to himself as he set up three different screens. Each one was labelled according to which team it would show, in Ty's boyish hand. This as more to keep him from getting confused than anything else. He plugged wires into various slots, he pressed buttons and turned knobs. Their first meetings were about to begin. As always, Ty was excited to test his mettle. He had supplied his little sister with some very interesting goods, and had big plans for weaponary. He would not, of course, think to share them unless asked. Ty was just like that. Always had been. His mother, he knew, was busy not-hoving by being in her office. She was anxious.

Ty, in fact, felt slightly uneasy. He had broken the firewall. It had been difficult, it had taken him days, but he had found an opening. He should not have found any opening whatsoever. He was good, but the three people they were up against were better. He was suspicious. He kept his thoughts to himself. After all, nobody likes a party pooper.

He looked at the clock on the wall, and started. Ten minutes until broadcasting. He searched the room frantically for the intercom mike. He knew he'd put it somewhere! He riffled around for a minute or two, before finding the mike buried under piles of papers. He retrieved it, and with some difficulty switched it on.

We're live in five. All assassins to the control centre, please. Unless you want to miss out. Which is cool too.

Professional? Not really. But it would get the job done.

//Bree//

The airport was an excellent place to meet. People went in and out of airports. Lots of traffic. Lots of people to watch. Lots of suspicious workers who would notice new cameras or other detecting devices. In fact, the airport was an unlikely and brilliant spot for a meeting. This is what Bree had thought, and that was why she had organised for the first meeting to be held in Switzerland's bustling airport.

She sat in the small coffee shop where the three had decided to eat, looking nothing like Bree at all. She had dyed her thick hair honey blonde, and it would not usually suit her at all. Except, that wasn't the only change she had made. She was wearing dark brown contact lenses under fashionable sunglasses. She was wearing make-up, which made her look like a young adult rather than the teenager she was. She was dressed in a red trench coat, which sat on top of jeans and a blouse which served to give her plenty of curves. She was wearing high heels. Most astonishingly, she had gotten a tan, and thus looked a lot less like she was on death's door. Most bizarre of all, she had been working hard to put on weight in the week and two days which had passed since they had originally been given their task. Her efforts were paying off.

This is why, as she waits for Booker and Malberry, she is stuffing her face with a buttery, rich chocolate croissant.

Her name was, for the moment, Megan Carter. She was a British woman who was travelling for her boss, a well-known lawyer.

She had come to kill a man.

//Malicia//

In a dark, somber hotel room, a deadly woman makes a call. She does not to so from the hotel phone. She does not pick up a cellphone. She touches a small device to her lips, and speaks into it. Her voice is dry and harsh, and never raises above an almost-whisper. There is something about her which speaks of age and abuse and torment, both inflicted on her person and inflicted by her person. Her eyes flash, but there is no joy in her expression, only a naked, hungry cruelty. The mike flashes as it picks up her words, transmitting her orders into the listening ear of her newest employee.

They have arrived, she tells him.
They meet now. You will follow the team assigned to me. You will relay everything they say and do to me. You will not be caught, you will not be suspected. Is that understood?

From the bed in the hotel room, there is motion. A man, previously sprawled languidly across the bed, rises and props himself up on his elbows. He has the thin face of a man used to getting what he wants in every respect. His mouth is insolent. His eyes are haughtly.
Where is Flint? he asks, with the barest trace of a European accent on his words. Malicia does not look at him, but her mouth quirks up in a cruel parody of a smile.
It seems that our elaborate plans were for naught. Flint as found a most loyal informant to do his bidding. Family, it seems, has its uses.

[Riku and Rayven's team needs another member, as Casper has quit. Does anyone want the position?]

[Tundra]

The airport was loud, the sound of many travelers coming and going from the scene. A figure stood off to the side a little off the beaten path. His eyes closed, leaning on one of the walls away from the usual crowed. Though this would normally make one stand out, there were a congregation of plants and people not far off to his left. They seemed to be engrossed in something, arguing over what shipments were to come in today and other useless stuff. Though this man took note to listen to locations due to the chance of these assassins who were in town using the locals to get the weaponry in.

Flicking his tail slightly his eyes remained closed as his earring chimed on with whom he had been hired by.
They have arrived, They meet now. You will follow the team assigned to me. You will relay everything they say and do to me. You will not be caught, you will not be suspected. Is that understood?
"You underestimate me my dear"

His face slowly curved into a smile, opening his eyes to see the situation before him. "You got info on what their aliases are? I know their names." His eyes looked at the Coffee shop, his head unmoving as he watched people come and go. He knew the assassins were meeting at the coffee shop. really all he was interested in was the money Malicia had paid him with. Not to mention the few hidden weapons he did carry. They were all made of materials that were undetectable by readers. Not that he had much to worry about, he had no intent on actually getting on one of the planes.

He noticed Bree at one of the tables though the glass. Though he made sure he was hidden out of anyone's sight from the shop. Flicking his tail slightly as he took note at anything any of the assassins ate, drank, did. If they evens sneezed he would know. He itched for action, but not until the perfect time. He wanted to clear his mind with the sound of a bullet firing from one of his Desert Eagles into the skull of its victim. He couldn't help but smile when he pictured this. HE had to calm himself down so he could think strait though as he watched from the shadows the assassins movements.

[Derelict Draught]

""Alexander"" stumbles through the crowd, clearly having had too much to drink on his flight. He pushes off wall and person alike, wandering aimlessly and shamelessly towards the cafe. Crashing into a wall not far away, he spots an astonishingly beautiful young woman sitting at the cafe. "Bit o' a dunny this morning. Hate to be a cadger but a chinwag with that Bluey is in order. Watch an ol' Oz fang it." Pushing off the man, his hands exploring the contents of his pockets, he quickly pockets the goods and stumbles towards the table. Falling over his own feet, he crashes on the table next to Bree. Rolling slightly to face the young lady at the table, he apologizes quietly. "Sorry love. This nong's bangers have been on the barbie for a little too long. Let me take a smoko from me walkabout and be a mate, buy you a fourex(XXXX Queensland Beer) or two?"

*Bit of a dummy this morning. Hate to take advantage but a talk with that Red over there is in order. Watch an old Aussie appropriate.
**Sorry love. This fools sausages have been on the barbecue for a little too long. Let me take a break from my travels and be a friend, buy you a beer or two?

[Noel]

"Love to. I've been bored out of my mind since I came." Riku responded with an amused sigh. "Samantha" was staging everything perfectly, and it was quite easy to go along with. Rising quickly, he stood and followed hurriedly after the girl, gesturing outside. Clearly she was excited, and he was as well, already he was twitching to go. Not to mention the hidden hotel staff was unsettling, and he longed to get out.
((Slight WB here, I apologize.))

[Verdana]

Bree//

Bree sipped her cappucino (a drink she didn't like really, she preferred espresso: but cappucino suited her image and so cappucino it was) idly, her legs primly crossed. It took her a lot of effort, to stay so composed. Drink slowly, she told herself. Don't smudge your lipstick. Look bored. Don't scan. Don't let the steam swipe off your mascara. Shoulders straight. Confidence, girl! After all, Bree was acting at least seven years older than she really was. Despite the skill with which she pretended to be an adult, she was barely more than a child. It was almost disgusting that she could be accustomed to this sort of behaviour, but she was and she loved her job. She told herself that she was learning more than any child at school. Sometimes, convincing herself wasn't easy, but she always managed, more or less.

There was a commotion off to the side. Bree looked up, her eyes holding the vague, dismissive curiosity of any member of a crowd. Soon, her attitude said, as soon as she knew what the source of the noise was, she would look away and pretend it did not exist.Her eyes were clapped instantly on the young man making his drunken way to her. She almost groaned. Could he be any more obvious? However, her astute scrutiny picked up information below the surface. Though he reeked of drink, it was superficial. His stagger was staged. His eyes suggested a first encounter. Perhaps the man was not as much of a fool as she thought him to be.

He approached, and he spoke. The voice... Bree withheld a simultaneous smirk and cringe. A smirk, because despite (or maybe because of) Malberry saying that he would hate to have an Australian alias, that's exactly what he had gotten. And little Amigo had even gone one step better, and made Malberry into an escaped convict. Bree liked to think that she had inherited some of her sense of humour from Amigo. If she hadn't, her mother certainly had. However, there was also a carefully-veiled cringe, because she knew that she would have to deal with that accent for a week. The young man looked almost nothing like Malberry superficially. He was blonde and blue-eyed. Bree would know that bone structure anywhere, though.

He faced her, and he spoke. Bree recoiled very slightly, in the manner of a civilised young woman faced with something out of her comfort zone. She pushed her disgust and alarm to just below the surface of her face, and pretended to try to act civil. She gave a shy, almost apologetic smile. One hand went to her ear in a self-conscious gesture.
Oh, erm, yes, she told him awkwardly in a crisp British accent, every inch the young woman trying not to screw up her job, which was vital to her happiness and well-being, while trying to be nice. Her hand, while lifted, flicked reproachfully in Stalker's direction.
Don't overdo it. Bree was fluent in sign language. She spoke three or four different dialects. As a woman whose line of work did not take kindly to speech, and who was prone to frequent laryngitis, sign language was her salvation.

In truth, she really had no idea what Malberry had just told her. She assumed it was something small-talky. Her command for him to lower the accent was more for her benefit than for their image.

Not that she'd ever tell him that, of course.

[Derelict Draught]

""Alexander"" flops back in his chair as one so used to a life of power was accustomed to do. He gives no indication that he understood her message as he begins to watch a girl at another table with bleary eyes. "Where can a bloke get a drink around here! Bloody Admiral's Lounge kicked me out." He turns his attentions back to his table companion. "A cobber gets a tensie bit bushed in a barney and the Wallopers cut you off. What kind of a place does that? Nonsense kind of place, thats wot. Nough to make a bloke's head throb." His hand starts to explore his ill-gotten goods, all the while, he glances around with a drunken gazes examining details. "Worst part is, I'm grounded until I'm sober! Don't they know who I am? Wankers never even bothered to check." With a sigh, he pockets his 'prize'. "What about you, love? Trapped til the skies grow old?"