Krieger, PI wrote:Alright, Krieger, this is an easy entry. Our tip is sound, and we have confirmation of suspect's presence. No sign of foul play as of yet, but keep sharp. It isn't hard to blend in.
Her steps were light as she approached the entrance. The Grand Hall, just beyond, was packed with the influx of spectators, all of whom wore dresses and suits that made the crowd look like gathered royalty. The spotlights, beaming overhead up into the clear black sky, were swaying almost lazily. Everything was bathed in the golden hue of champagne, and the composed and genial chatter of people with way too much money drifted down from the towering marble walls.
The opera was here, and its audience was eager.
Her dress was smooth against her feathers as she began to climb the great wide staircase leading into the entryway. "It's been a long time since I paired with a police detective."
And it's been always since I've been paired up with a PI. Congratulations, you're the first. I'll have a complimentary cupcake ready for you when you get back.
She allowed the faintest hint of a smile to play at her schooled expression as she passed the ushers, dismissing them with a single wave of her paw. The small, decorative purse slung around her shoulder sat comfortably against her side as the last step of the staircase slipped past. "How sweet."
From where she stood, Mitra could just see the great crystal chandeliers that hung from the apex of the great building's every dome. The hot light that was filtering down from the antique lamps dotting the walls fractured through the chandeliers and cast a dazzling, scattered spectrum of rainbow spots across the ceilings and walls. If she angled her gaze just right, she could catch a flicker of light against her face.
It wasn't much longer before her paws met carpet. The doors, vast as they were, could only fit so many of the gathered crowd through at once. She'd shown up early for a reason.
"Any sign of our guy yet?" Her voice was smooth, soft, unnoticed in the din of the Grand Hall.
Nothing yet. We've had fur pattern matches with a couple of his blacksuits, but the man himself hasn't made an appearance yet. Don't know when he will, possibilities are anywhere from a back entrance to he's already been in there, even before we were here. Everyone's eyes are wide open.
"Good." She breathes slowly for a long moment, elevating herself and allowing her chin to drift upwards as she tested the air with nose and ears. "Keep it that way."
By the time she's fully crossed the threshold into the orchestral auditorium, a great number of the seats are packed in, beginning at the front and leaving scattered empty chairs and rows amongst the back. Her stride is smooth as she bypasses the first level entirely and instead makes a quiet beeline for the staircase tucked into the corner of the room. There isn't a door, and she ascends them quickly and without event, keeping her ears sharp and her eyes moving. The steps leading to the balconies above are not short, and by the time she's finished her ascent the orchestra has begun their warm-up session. The oddly haunting strings and brass echo up to her from below, strangely beautiful in their disharmony. She places one well-groomed paw on the balcony's ledge, her tail waving and her claws clicking.
It isn't ten seconds later that the lights dim significantly. Her fur, previously white and ochre, is now a muddy striped brown-grey in the orange-gold glow. The orchestra has fallen silent but for a few soft string notes, and slowly, ever so slowly the curtain begins to draw.
Mitra's eyes fix immediately on the blue-feathered viscet illuminated by the solid spotlight. His mane is tipped in fire-orange, and even from where she sits the silver of his underbelly and ears gleams richly in the light. He isn't wearing an outfit, but two strands of lights hang comfortably about his neck and tail. She can tell immediately by his movements that he is the star of the show.
Tango spotted, soldier. Suspect's entry is expected at any moment. Blacksuits aren't moving yet, but we've had a couple more fill in the gaps in their security network. Watch for prolonged movement.
Her ears flick as the blue viscet begins to sing. He's a rather even tenor, and his voice is professional and limber, if a little guttural. Beautiful.
"Mmmm." She'd have to pay careful attention to herself--she couldn't afford to have her attention pulled away from the task at hand. There was a lot at stake here.
Despite her own dedication to her job, she found herself enchanted by the show. As five minutes pass, ten minutes pass, half an hour passes without event, she listened with rapt attention, allowing herself to be drawn into the performance's spell as she waited with baited breath for the climax of the tale.
She was reminded was jarring certainty of the approach of her own tale's climax as the earpiece hissed at her.
We have our suspect, I repeat, we have our suspect, he's gone through the easterly corner entrance and he's less than thirty feet from the stage, I repeat--
Instantly her legs are spread wide and solid, awaiting the command as her gaze darts between the onlookers, seeking the odd one out. She finds him within the first few seconds, shifting subtly past the more heavily shadowed portion of the crowd and hugging the walls in his approach of the stage. Her ears were perked high, her mouth set in a hard line. She only had a fifteen second gap. She had to make this count.
A muffled ripping sound and she's airborne, legs tucked smoothly against her torso as the tatters of her slim, hugging dress fluttered silently with her. The back of her target's head approached rapidly, and she heard only one gasp before her paws met the black viscet's shoulders.
It's thirty minutes later. The singer and his audience, unharmed, are preparing to resume the show. The black viscet sits furiously thrashing in the back of the marked car parked by the curb.
"I swear, Pecans, I thought we'd lost you when I saw that dreamy expression on your face. Blue fur get you or something?" her contact teases, tucking a pen behind his ear as he snaps his notebook shut.
"What can I say? I always did love the opera," she says simply as she ties the remainder of her dress around her waist.
Mitra's favorite place to be couples rather nicely with her pastime--she, quite simply, loves the performing arts and all they entail, and she especially loves orchestral halls & opera stages. She'll spend hours at a time listening to and viewing classical musical performances. Of course, her job as a private investigator does get in the way sometimes, but she'll never forget the one mission that coincided beautifully with her love of music. What a day that was.
