01-02-2023, 07:54 PM
Adrian’s office was lit by morning sun. His empire operated within these floors. An umbrella organization that covered the many smaller hubs of his businesses. Adrian knuckled his shoulder after he shrugged from an overcoat. Arm and shoulder day hit harder this morning, but the soreness was a welcome sign of growth. It made him feel alive.
His usual protein shake waited on his desk. He downed it greedily, eager to get about his day when the ding of an upcoming appointment drew his attention to the time.
He was dressed professionally. A crisp white collared shirt was decorated with green-flecked tie and a black blazer. The gray of his eyes were bright. His hair flowing from his brow in perfect waves. In the few additional minutes that remained, he studied the open files on the myriad screens. A picture of the woman that was slated to get his attention hovered near. She was Latina, with cinnamon brown skin and dark chocolate hair. Her gaze was seductive, her poise precise. A former model, the file read. Though she was many years past the fame of her youth. She’d mothered a child since then. Deceased. And became a widow. The queen of a fallen empire, Adrian shook his head as he swiped through the images of destruction that followed.
All such research was powered down by the time she was shown in. She wore a black dress that accentuated the width of abundant hips. The bustline was modesty befitting a widow in mourning, but the curves were apparent in the designer label. Expensive earrings decorated her face, although Adrian noted the lack of a matching necklace. She had to be low on funds, and a message from a certain consultant informed him of the sale of a recent set of jewels. No doubt they helped fund this trip to Moscow.
“Señor Kane,” she said in English. Her accent was heavy, her voice musky and seductive.
Adrian stood, rounding the desk to greet her with a shake of the hand. She still wore her wedding ring. Not so desperate enough to sell it yet. So she had money and the connections to broker his time. Though, to be honest, Adrian was quite intrigued by her request.
“Mrs. Amengual,” he replied and stepped back to offer her a seat.
“Please. Call me Yasmine,” she said.
"I am sorry for your recent losses," he responded. Her eyes tightened at that. Perhaps not expecting him to open with the obvious.
She was strong, he realized. Without a flicker of pain to mar that porcelain face, she explained her situation. "My husband murdered. My child murdered. My home ripped apart. My husband's legacy gone in hours. Loss is not a powerful enough word to describe what I have endured, Señor. Kane."
He accepted the correction without comment, unsurprised to hear anger in her tone rather than grief.
"So what can I do for you?"he asked. His sources told him she had come to Moscow the week before asking for another man entirely. One that went unseen for months. Adrian had never met Ryker, though their exchanges were frequent. Even a mediator between cartels and the Yakuza needed a mediator. Someone to move shipments and smuggle weapons, drugs, humans, and every other kind of illicit trade. Such big machinery of organized crime always required grunts. And grunts for hire, trucks, forklifts, pallets, storage facilities. Adrian controlled those. He went on, the politeness from before fading to business at hand. "You have no shipments to move. No need of my services. So what could you want?"
She nodded, sitting taller in the chair. The stem of her legs crossed, flashing him with the line of feminine muscle contained in her exquisite heels. A woman of fallen power, indeed, but Adrian wasn't a narco-baron like she was accustomed to manipulating. When the moment passed without reaction, she spoke plainly.
"I want revenge," she said.
Adrian nodded. "There we go," he said, his interest genuine, but not in helping her. "Of course you do," he added, but with a sigh, he continued. "But I am uninterested in giving it to you. What else do you want?"
"I can make you rich," she said.
"I'm already rich."
"I can do things you can't imagine."
"I think you are a small fish in a big pond, Yasmine. This is Moscow. You are dancing with the big devils now."
She tensed at that, but when she laid a device on the desk, and powered up a hologram, Adrian's attention was successfully captured.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's called the oculus. There are only a few of them made, part of my late husband's legacy," she said with no small measure of pride. It was only a hologram, but Adrian turned the projection about, studying it. "But that's not what I am offering," she swiped the projection to the next one in the cue. A stick and ball image illuminated her face. A chemical structure that Adrian was clueless to interpret. "That's the chemical composition of a very special serum that the Oculus can deploy to anyone who wears it."
"A drug?" he said, studying her. He wasn't in the drug dealing trade.
"Muy especial. A very special drug," she smiled. What she explained next was unfathomable. She brought the offering to the right altar, he decided when he learned what it did. A light shone his eyes to silver. This combined with the newest venture with Natalie was breaking him into the channeler business. A very special drug indeed.
The future.
"You have possession of both?"
"Perhaps. You will be to discuss my revenge now?"
"I'm listening."
"The man who took everything from us. I want his head in my Birkin," she toed the bag on the floor. Violent. Adrian should not have been surprised. The wife of one of the world's worst drug lords. The rumors said they were legitimately in love. A bullshit emotion that drove people to incredibly bad decisions that Adrian was happy to profit from.
"Done. Who?"
The next hologram she produced was a face that Adrian recognized well. He was probably somewhere in the very building. Yasmine had no idea how close she was to her goal.
His frown was thoughtful as he scrubbed his chin before he could catch himself. He did not respond right away.
![[Image: Yasmine-e1593657886143.jpg]](https://i0.wp.com/thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Yasmine-e1593657886143.jpg)
His usual protein shake waited on his desk. He downed it greedily, eager to get about his day when the ding of an upcoming appointment drew his attention to the time.
He was dressed professionally. A crisp white collared shirt was decorated with green-flecked tie and a black blazer. The gray of his eyes were bright. His hair flowing from his brow in perfect waves. In the few additional minutes that remained, he studied the open files on the myriad screens. A picture of the woman that was slated to get his attention hovered near. She was Latina, with cinnamon brown skin and dark chocolate hair. Her gaze was seductive, her poise precise. A former model, the file read. Though she was many years past the fame of her youth. She’d mothered a child since then. Deceased. And became a widow. The queen of a fallen empire, Adrian shook his head as he swiped through the images of destruction that followed.
All such research was powered down by the time she was shown in. She wore a black dress that accentuated the width of abundant hips. The bustline was modesty befitting a widow in mourning, but the curves were apparent in the designer label. Expensive earrings decorated her face, although Adrian noted the lack of a matching necklace. She had to be low on funds, and a message from a certain consultant informed him of the sale of a recent set of jewels. No doubt they helped fund this trip to Moscow.
“Señor Kane,” she said in English. Her accent was heavy, her voice musky and seductive.
Adrian stood, rounding the desk to greet her with a shake of the hand. She still wore her wedding ring. Not so desperate enough to sell it yet. So she had money and the connections to broker his time. Though, to be honest, Adrian was quite intrigued by her request.
“Mrs. Amengual,” he replied and stepped back to offer her a seat.
“Please. Call me Yasmine,” she said.
"I am sorry for your recent losses," he responded. Her eyes tightened at that. Perhaps not expecting him to open with the obvious.
She was strong, he realized. Without a flicker of pain to mar that porcelain face, she explained her situation. "My husband murdered. My child murdered. My home ripped apart. My husband's legacy gone in hours. Loss is not a powerful enough word to describe what I have endured, Señor. Kane."
He accepted the correction without comment, unsurprised to hear anger in her tone rather than grief.
"So what can I do for you?"he asked. His sources told him she had come to Moscow the week before asking for another man entirely. One that went unseen for months. Adrian had never met Ryker, though their exchanges were frequent. Even a mediator between cartels and the Yakuza needed a mediator. Someone to move shipments and smuggle weapons, drugs, humans, and every other kind of illicit trade. Such big machinery of organized crime always required grunts. And grunts for hire, trucks, forklifts, pallets, storage facilities. Adrian controlled those. He went on, the politeness from before fading to business at hand. "You have no shipments to move. No need of my services. So what could you want?"
She nodded, sitting taller in the chair. The stem of her legs crossed, flashing him with the line of feminine muscle contained in her exquisite heels. A woman of fallen power, indeed, but Adrian wasn't a narco-baron like she was accustomed to manipulating. When the moment passed without reaction, she spoke plainly.
"I want revenge," she said.
Adrian nodded. "There we go," he said, his interest genuine, but not in helping her. "Of course you do," he added, but with a sigh, he continued. "But I am uninterested in giving it to you. What else do you want?"
"I can make you rich," she said.
"I'm already rich."
"I can do things you can't imagine."
"I think you are a small fish in a big pond, Yasmine. This is Moscow. You are dancing with the big devils now."
She tensed at that, but when she laid a device on the desk, and powered up a hologram, Adrian's attention was successfully captured.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's called the oculus. There are only a few of them made, part of my late husband's legacy," she said with no small measure of pride. It was only a hologram, but Adrian turned the projection about, studying it. "But that's not what I am offering," she swiped the projection to the next one in the cue. A stick and ball image illuminated her face. A chemical structure that Adrian was clueless to interpret. "That's the chemical composition of a very special serum that the Oculus can deploy to anyone who wears it."
"A drug?" he said, studying her. He wasn't in the drug dealing trade.
"Muy especial. A very special drug," she smiled. What she explained next was unfathomable. She brought the offering to the right altar, he decided when he learned what it did. A light shone his eyes to silver. This combined with the newest venture with Natalie was breaking him into the channeler business. A very special drug indeed.
The future.
"You have possession of both?"
"Perhaps. You will be to discuss my revenge now?"
"I'm listening."
"The man who took everything from us. I want his head in my Birkin," she toed the bag on the floor. Violent. Adrian should not have been surprised. The wife of one of the world's worst drug lords. The rumors said they were legitimately in love. A bullshit emotion that drove people to incredibly bad decisions that Adrian was happy to profit from.
"Done. Who?"
The next hologram she produced was a face that Adrian recognized well. He was probably somewhere in the very building. Yasmine had no idea how close she was to her goal.
His frown was thoughtful as he scrubbed his chin before he could catch himself. He did not respond right away.
Yasmine Amengual
Widow of Zacarías Amengual