2. Deep Six

November 22, 2015:

Fracture and Storm Shadow are tasked with a job from Fractures.. other employers.



NPCs: Armando, guards and a girl



Mood Music: Deep Six - Marilyn Manson

Fade In…



..Asset Fracture assigned to Operatsiya ANB.
Perimeters as followed:

Poznakomlyus' s aktivom 677. Poluchit' paket . Skryt' paket . Transport paket padeniye na 0800 ch.
Asset allowed one member to accompany as chosen. Medical assistance mandatory.


The message played across the burner phone that she's acquired, the sim card activated only at certain intervals during the day in which the phone will ring and finger print is needed to answer. She does, listening to said message with a slight stick of her lower lip out, her eyes glancing up and rolling just a touch as she slams the phone down upon the table.

"One more tea." She calls out towards the tender, the makeshift hut just enough for the boys to settle back and have a drink in, often times shooting the shit.. Veruca's previous adventures within the place known to the boys to leave her the hell alone with their flirting and eyes.

The drink was had, sipped quickly, and put aside as a few bills were laid upon the table.. a call gone out to Storm Shadow to accompany her to her latest job. At least to test the goods, she has not done so just yet.


The high rise penthouse suite was something that she rarely frequented when she was in town on a job for the Krem; the elaborate expanse of the room told of riches yet kept spartan to not make it a home. Almost everything was white, some eggshell, some cream colored, faucets chrome and fridge stocked with foods that did not have too much sugar, but made to fill bellies with protein and calories that while delicious; proved beneficiary.

The steam of the shower runs, the glass fogged as Veruca prepares for the meet, her back scrubbed with a loofa as she cracks the door to the shower to call out. "We leave soon, Storm Shadow.." To the mission.

Meet contact.
Retrieve the package.
Insert the package.
Make it to the drop.

Sounds simple, but anything dealing with the Kremlin is not.

Storm Shadow almost feels alien in such opulence. He grew up poor, barely scraping by and, although his career has lead to a largesse of funds that could allow him to live large, so to speak, he's never indulged himself. He is wary of things that are soft and warm and comfortabe, be they places, things or women. He's already prepared for their mission, having changed from the amiable street clothes in which he arrived - t-shirt, hoodie, yoga pants, sneakers - into his ninja gear, although he at least isn't wearing his mask.

He turns his head at the call, "I am aware of that. I was not entirely sure that you were," he says back evenly but with the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He makes his way to the windows and looks out over the city, the fireflies of light peeking through countless windows into the darkness as night falls.

The sound of the shower halts for a moment after his words, and soon she steps out, towel draped around herself as she makes her way into the main room of the house. "Oh.. no.." She murmurs softly, taking that approach with her arms stretched out, wet as she was but well covered enough to allow the imagination to wander. "You're not going as you."

As she reaches him, her fingers move towards his belt, hooking in and tugging so that his weaponry could fall to the floor. "We're going out in public. Thankfully.. I have an eye for your size and I've gotten you something that should fit the bill rather properly."

With a turn, she disappears into the bedroom, the clothing already laid upon the spread, his suit.. naturally, clad in the finest of white that money could buy. Perhaps it was Armani, or something from the Kors collection, either way.. it fit the bill and had enough room for him to pack whatever he wished.

"Come in."

Storm Shadow frowns slightly. He was fully capable of playing the part, but that didn't mean he took much pleasure in it. He found himself tugged along as she sees fit, restraining his defenses enough to allow her to touch him. He doesn't particularly like being disarmed in that way, but he's just as deadly without weapons as with. And, given what he knew of her capabilities, a sword likely wouldn't do him much good regardless.

As for the rest, with her parading around and obviously teasing him with her body, he tried not to let it get into his mind. Successful? Well, perhaps not entirely - whatever his discipline, he remains a mortal man. But not so much that it's going to disrupt him from his work.

"As you say," he says, preparing to change and making no show of a need for privacy. If she could taunt him, he saw no reason not to return the favor.

It was the job. Veruca was a mortal woman for all intents and purposes so there was no shielding of her eyes. She watched him as he disrobed, her own towel falling away there after with a casual turn towards the closet to her own wardrobe to be gathered. While he would wear white, she would wear black. And white. A shimmering Vera Wang that hugged her hips and curves in all the right places but still allowed for mobility should the need arise.

"For the purpose of this mission, you will be my bodyguard." Of course. For what she wears doesn't dare allowed for a weapon to be born, but little do most know that she was a weapon herself especially if that change takes hold. "There may or may not be a time for you to speak. But do as you will. The Kremlin is not lieniant, however in this case since there is obvious risk I am sure that they would want the job done and nothing further." Her accent bleeds in every now and then, certain words too hard to disguise.

"Zip me."

As she waits, bare back shown, arms pressed in front to rest upon her thighs as she looks over her shoulder with her icy blues. "Once we retrieve the package we have to move. The Kremlin requests insertion in two hours time of retrieval. You have medical experience, yes? If not, I ha'v a man who is a genie with the scalpel."

Storm Shadow listens silently, for the most part. He may not have taken a vow like Snake-Eyes, but he's never been a particularly wordy sort. He lets others do the talking. He nods in agreement to the general plan as he gets himself dressed, tying his tie with a Windsor knot and applying his cufflinks with a deft hand. Not the firsttime he's gotten dressed up.

"Bodyguards should be allowed to carry weapons," he says, but recognizes that it isn't likely to be allowed, but brings one all the same - it adds an air of verisimillitude if they have to confiscate a weapon - then they'll miss the half-dozen or so he has hidden, capable of disguising them even from an experienced patdown.

He draws her zipper up with a sibiliant hiss, fingers dancing over the back of her neck briefly as he tucks away the zipper. "I am a capable field medic - what I can do might not be particularly painless, but can do the job. Still, having an actual professional on hand never hurts."

"And I am sure that you will." She comments, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment to allow that bit of touch, sweeping her wet hair out of the way only to release it once she was zipped, tucked, and tight. "Very well. I have arranged transportation for us to the secure location so transplant can begin." She steps way from him then towards the vanity, settling upon the chair to brush her hair out, her pale features a shock against the blue and black as her eyes remain upon him within the mirror.

No. She wasn't going to engage. They were partners in the same scene. The last time she engaged she had grown soft. Considered things that no woman like her should ever consider. She would not be doing that now.

Her hand drops the brush upon the table top as she reaches for to metal rods, fingers twirling them briefly as she considers him carefully. "Do you ever smile?" She manages to say, little rods held upright as if she were to toss towards him in an attack but instead…

.. those long dark locks were soon swooped up, tangled, manuvered and placed into a messy bun neatly upon her head. Well, as neat as a messy bun could get. Her own weapons. Cleverly hidden in plain sight.

Storm Shadow begins securing his own weapons, shuriken disappearing up his sleeves, darts, garrote wires, all cleverly tucked and seeming to disappear like a magician's sleight of hand. With his skills, he could even move them arouns his body unseen during a body search, enabling him to simply shift a secreted weapon somewhere that had already been inspected. He considers her for a moment - he, too, had played with fire in the past and gotten burned as a result.

Still, her flames certainly cast quite a bit of heat in his direction.

At her question, he raises an eyebrow, "When I have something to smile about," he says. "And I usually don't until a job is done. I dislike unfinished things."

She stands, one brow lifted as she turns towards him and.. laughs. "You only smile when a job is done?" That was adorable! She wanted to pinch his cheekies! But intended as a joke or not, she understood the point. It was time for them to get going. Make-up quickly laid upon her face, blush here, bronzer there, eyeliner quickly drawn on with expertise and champagne color lipstick drawn on to complete the look. She was effecient, and took less time than someone who had been doing this for decades.

"Let's move."

Oop, quick spray of perfume because.. why not! Heels slipped on and they were out…

The club was exclusive and posh, with plenty of VIP seating. This wasn't the kind of place where people danced, but instead, for mingling, making deals, social stratification and, of course, underworld bullshit. As he expected, Tommy's gun is confiscated at the front door, but he easily slips the other weapons past the relatively shoddy bouncers. They size him up, most of them close to six and a half feet tall, apparently unimpressed by his stature. He resist the urge to teach them all a lesson.

Eventually, they make their way to a pre-determined luxury suite, soundproofing making the music sound distant, up on a catwalk and separated from the larger mingling areas and tables. The music is blaring, yes, but largely just to counteract any listening devices - it even includes a proper white noise signal in the underlayers of the sound to disrupt any attempts at eavesdropping.

Tommy steps in first, as if keeping an eye on her security, and then lets Veruca follow him in, allowing her to make any vocal introduction she likes to the man they're meant to meet, who sits at a large corner couch with a table and several bodyguards of his own, not to mention a scantily clad girl in his lap.

There was a slew of giggles as they enter the room, mostly from the girl within his lap, drawing her knees up and curling just a touch as the large man tickles her mercilessly. "Anyanka.. please.." The fat man croons, leaning in to nuzzle the woman as she shrieks loudly, falling from the mans lap and onto the ground, obviously drunk.. or high, whatever the drug of choice there was for the night. The drink that she had was spilled upon the floor, and the man lifts up with a scowl. "You fucking bitch!" He kicks her side, causing her to yelp and roll as he snaps his fingers twice to point towards the girl, in which two guards carry her off.

'Ah.. Little Orphan Annie!' He croons, arms outstretched to approach Veruca and Tommy, laughter upon his lips as she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. "Armando.." Veruca murmurs, her eyelashes a flutter as she presses the second kiss to the opposite side of his cheek in kind. The man grips her arms, squeezing her tightly.

'You haven't changed a bit Annie.. Annie! Come.. come.. you and your boy sit.. sit!'

He leads her towards the couch where he previously sat by the arm, Veruca keeping pace and settling in as she would. Armando, ever the gentleman, waits until she was settled then slips in right next to her, an arm easily draped along her shoulders.

It was clear that Veruca was bothered by this, but dealt with it all the same. "It has been a long time.." She finally speaks out, full on Russian lilt, accent clear.. crisp and natural. "I was beginning to think that you have gone from the Krem and onto other endeavors."

'Ah.. no no no.. and yes.. but we never kiss and tell, unless you want to kiss.. no? Eh.. eh?' He laughs loud, giving a nod towards Tommy and a suggestive wink. 'Have drink! Have many drink while we talk business!'

Tommy slides in to take a seat next to Veruca, but, while he can maintain his cover well enough, his cover doesn't require him to play the part of a boisterous asshole and so he does not. He simply settles in and puts himself next to her, keeping himself at hand and able to act however he needs. He knows that Veruca can defend herself, should the guy get out of line beyond the boundaries of what she can handle for her cover. Sometimes, that was the job - you had to do things you didn't like, grit your teeth and get through them.

He takes a drink but manages it carefully, not partaking in truth. He didn't expect the man to pay much attention to him anyway, not with 'Annie' so close at hand.

He looks blankly at the drunken girl on the floor, clutching iher ribs and cowering, glaring resentfully at Veruca. He just gives her a quick shake of her head to deter her from doing anything stupid.

"Business. Yes." Veruca states plainly, leaning away from the arm so that she could shift her weight towards Armando. Her lower back presses against Tommy to remind herself that he was there, though she was not frightened in the slightest. Veruca reaches out to take the offered drink, but she does not indulge as well, instead.. she blantantly leans forward to place the glass upon the table, her fingers soon joining around her bare knee, in which Armando actually grips tight.

'Da, yes. The NSA chippies.' He lets her go, then gestures towards one of the guards who presents a black, metal case, taking a knee upon the ground in front of Tommy and Veruca alike to hold the case upon his knee, which was snapped open and soon turned.

'Just as the Krem requested. Chips covered in silicone for easy insertion.. eh? Eh?' He waggles his brow as Veruca reaches out to try to touch the sillicone, but her hand was soon grasped and tugged away. 'No touching. If dis goes into body, yes? You need clean hands. How clean are your hands, little orphan?'

Veruca's fingers flex, her jaw tensing as her eyes narrow upon Armando. "Clean enough. Tommy. Verify the contents and make sure that everything is there. We do not want to take up Papa Armando's time." Her gaze averts to the girl upon the floor, one eye slowly bleeding black in order to scare her. "He needs to get back to his business with the girl."

The girl immediately looks away, her hands clasping against her ears.

Storm Shadow nods at the girl's terror - it is well deserved, after all, and better for her health if she knows it. When the case is presented, he carefully reaches into his pocket and draws out a pair of latex gloves, sliding them over his hands to show that he is prepared for such necessities.

He leans down to take a closer look - he isn't trained in such technologies, but has been given a few specific markers to look for that should verify authenticity. After that inspection, he looks up and snaps the case shut himself. "I will take this," he says to the boy who presented it, his hands firm as he gets a grip on the case.

"We're good," he says to Veruca, affirming it and then looking across her, watching Armando closely. He doesn't trust the fat man.

'But we haven't finished Little Annie!' Armando whines, his grip tightening so much on Veruca's wrist that her bone threatens to snap underneath the grasp that he has upon her. She doesn't flinch, but the bulge of vein and obvious bruising was evident beneath his fingers. Only still, she keeps her eye trained upon the girl before she blinks it back, regarding Armando with a warm smile.

"Careful." She coos towards Armando, reaching out to stroke his cheek, and chin.. and chin. "You do not want to damage property of the Krem. You know our keepers do not like when Assets fight. Whether play or othervise."

Armando has to possibly be one of the many assets who have not seen her in action, but he was well on the way to realizing just who she really is up close. "Let us go of my arm, yes sweet pea?" She lightly pats his cheek. "Little Annie has but two hours to conclude the entire deal."

Armando sighs, giving her a bit of a shove, a shove enough that causes her to bump hard into Tommy, her arm immediately drawn close to her chest as a show of vulnerability and cradled as if it truly wounded her.

'Vere is my payment, then? Eh? If I can't convince you two to stay and play I want my fucking money..'

Tommy watches with thinly veiled disgust - the man has no discipline, utterly in his cups and debauched to the point of practically pawing at Veruca right at the tabe. Tommy was no moralist, but he did have respect for decorum, rules and appearances. He could practically smell the man's fetid breath from here and, when Veruca is shoved in him, must stifled the urge he has to draw a dart and fling it in between his tonsils.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit and carefully hands an envelope to Veruca. The protocol is simple - if she takes the envelope, then they will pay and leave. If she refuses teh envelope, then he'll drop it and the two of them will slaughter everyone in the room and -then- leave.

Everything slows down for the moment, this choice. The choice to take the money and hand it over.. or to see them bleed for their transgressions. She was still looking for the person who had burned her who is inside of the Krem, and to do this would give her much joy. However.. she still had a bone to pick with them, she still needed to seem cooperative.. but with Cobra and the League at her back… she was nearly, just nearly untouchable.

Her eyes close as her wounded hand is released, fingers reaching out to curl along the envelope, which was soon tossed into the lap of Armando as she slowly and fluidly rises to a stand. The guards were on edge, for her anger and ire was palapable. And yet, the sweetest smile remains upon her face. "T'is a pleasure doing business with you always, Papa Armando.." Her arm was shook out, then held to her chest again as she looks towards Tommy. She had to put on the wounded and hurt look, to pretend that she was frightened, even though they both knew the truth.

The fat man stands, reaching out to grasp her hips to tug her back against him, her eyes wide.. then lowering.. a slight twitch within the left as he leans in close to her neck to plant a kiss, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise her hips through the Vera Wang dress she wore but yet she did not move.

'V'one more thing, Little Annie. Come back without your guard. Be like old times. Yes?'

Storm Shadow tenses where he stands, going utterly still. To most, it would seem like inaction - only an expert would see the particular way he curls his hand and recognize the marks of Dim Mak, the death touch, a single blow which, if struck precisely, can paralyze, agonize, even kill a target. It would take only a flick of his arm, a darting jab to the side of Armando's neck, to crumple the fat man in agony.

But Tommy waits. This is Veruca's play, her contacts, her employers -she knew all the elements at play. Trust wasn't easily acquired but, once given, Tommy followed through on it. While she might stab his back tomorrow, for tonight, she was his partner and he would protect his partner from all harm, just as he expected she would do the same for him.

The bodyguards he barely regarded - cannon fodder, they were no threat to the pair of them.

Veruca takes that willing step forward, her arm remaining pressed but freed from her own grip, her hand reaching up to grasp upon Tommy's shoulder as he remains stiff and still. This was a sign of trust, for that night, trust that whatever he decides to do from here on out she would be mildly okay with it. Tongue lashing given, of course, but mildly okay. She does smile, her hip twisted hard enough as she gives Armando a flourish of a smile.

"I do not think my employer nor bodyguard would appreciate me being out of his sight." She bows her head gingerly, then turns.. keeping that hand pressed lightly to Tommy's shoulder, a slight push given as a means for him to take the steps forward to lead them out of the soundproofed room.

Once cleared of the gathering, her hand drops, fingers curling into a fist as she pushes ahead.. not taking the lead but rushing to get out of the club.. the throbbing lights, the laughter and mingling of people.. the underworld.. even though this was her scene she was mad as hell and had to retain and remember the discipline to not kill them all. They were on the clock…

She didn't have the mental fortitude that Tommy did, she was a gasket ready to blow.

Storm Shadow keeps an eye out behind them, subtly, making sure none of Armando's men attempt to tail them. For the moment, things seem clear - that or they're much better than he'd anticipate and, frankly, that isn't likely. He gets them outside, the cool air of the later evening brisk but refreshing. He inhale deeply, letting it cleanse him. City air isn't great, but it's better than the inside of the club, for certain.

He gets them to the rental car, opening the passenger door for and then, once she's inside, going around and taking the wheel. He starts evasive maneuvering immediately, "How long until dropoff?" he says casually, his eyes flicking to his mirrors as he begins to work a criss-cross pattern to expose and lose any tais.

There was no cleansing for Veruca. Once they hit the open air the clock was counting down. They only had two hours to get to the medicus (bwaha), and they've already wasted thirty minutes as soon as the package was on hand. "We have an hour and thirty." She says crisply, drawing away her seatbelt to snatch the two rods from her hair to shake out her locks with a bit of force. The pins were soon tossed upon the dashboard, her feet soon propped upright as she leans forward to unlatch her shoes, taking them off as well as she leans forward to snap her fingers to gain his attention.

"Unzip me."

She felt stifled, dirty, the smell of the mans cologne upon her back was sickening. She needed to discard her dress, and lets face it, it was a very, expensive dress, to cause her to not flip shit to return to the hall to kill everyone inside.

They weren't being followed, just as well, but a hand does lift to pound hard upon the dash, followed by a slew of threats and curses in Russian and a fake hint of a spittle. "V'en this job is done we will go back and murder them all." And.. she actually means it.

Storm Shadow considers, "If you like," he says simply. It makes no difference to him whether Armando and his men live or die and, if it helps to solidify his alliance with Veruca, given they would apparently be working together for the forseeable future, he saw no reason not to indulge her particular grudge He moves a hand over and quickly complies, unzipping and steering the car with one hand through traffic as he starts to makeh is way towards the docks and the warehouse meeting to drop off the package.

Traffic has smoothed out, letting them move along relatively easily now, the later hour meaning traffic has at least thinned. The neighborhood's definitely gotten worse, though, out of the upscale region as they go into more conventionally grubby territory.

The zip frees her, so much that the dress falls from her shoulders and crumples to her waist, her hips lifting to shimmy them down her legs.. the window rolled down and soon tossed to a litany of whores who littered the corner, all of them scrambling for the cloth. While, she would have laughed, she was majorly irritated; never minding her bared body on display even as she rolls upon her knees to reach into the back of the vehicle and into the dufflebag for a pair of Jeans and a tank top to drape over her body and shimmy on. Chucks were taken and slipped on, hoody draped along her shoulders, tugged up and soon.. she slumps within the front seat, leaning forward to blast the heat as the chill of the night had gotten her.

"So does that mean anything that I ask you will do?" She looks towards him now, then out the window.. they were getting closer, for sure. "You will have to remain in the room with me when the insertion begins. I will be unconscious and vulnerable. I will not utilize my clones for this as I trust you to keep me safe. After you deposit me back to the hotel you are free to do whatever you wish." Just not with her. Surely she didn't have to say that.

Storm Shadow shakes his head, "Not anything, but I am more amenable than most perhaps, to unusual requests. But I always reserve the right to refuse - and, of courses, no means no," he says and there's almost a bit of amusement in his voice.

He listens to her reminding him of the procedure and he nods, "You will be safe, both during the procedure and while you recover. I won't allow anything or anyone to disturb you until you are ready. And I will stay with you through the night, to continue that assurance, if you will permit it. I have nowhere in particular to be."

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