01-21-2023, 08:31 PM
Yasmine was too ruthless to leave behind anything more than promises. No matter how hard Adrian pushed. He wanted assurances that she had exactly what she claimed in her possession and would deliver when the time came. Neither was he willing to deliver upon her demands without his own met in return. It left them at the crossroads of the consummate thieves’ bargain. The devil’s dilemma.
Her impatient tongue flicked noise behind her teeth. Breaking the trance of his thoughts. Adrian gestured at the hologram. The portrait was years outdated. The portrait of a man in an American dress uniform. Black jacket tight around the throat. Red cords lined the seams. Medals pinned across the chest consistent with a lower ranking officer.
“You know who that is, of course?”
Yasmine was surprised by the question. The absurdity of it.
“I know everything about him,” she oozed confidence, but there was a hesitation in the tilt of her chin. She wondered where this was going.
“No you don’t,” he responded. Adrian was non-threatening in his posture and tone. His hands laced across his abdomen. Leaned back in the chair. The hydraulics accepted the shift of his weight effortlessly.
He went on.
“That is Jay Carpenter.”
She interrupted. “Jay Aaron Carpenter. Former United States Marine Corps. Discharged after shooting my husband’s brother against direct orders. Social Security Number 612-“ she paused mid-number. Adrian’s look said it all.
“Your information is outdated,” he said.
“You mean Legion Premiere and Jacques Danjou,” her mask of confidence settled once more. She wasn’t without connection, then, but the Legion wasn't covert. Legion Premiere was a legitimate business. Their employees were listed. They had their own human resources department.
“Private details from a company based in Africa isn’t easy to get. I respect that,” he said.
“But I repeat myself. Your information is still outdated. You don’t know who he is.”
There were likely few people in the world that could give Yasmine Amengual some pause. Adrian was clearly not among such an illustrious list. Danjou himself was worthy of inclusion, but Yasmine likely dismissed the frenchman against foolish judgment. But there was one.
“The head you want in your handbag belongs to one of the channelers that works for the Ascendancy, and I have it on good authority that he is one of his personal favorites.”
“I don’t care.” Her eyes stared defiance, but her voice trembled.
Adrian leaned forward. Voice a whisper. “You should care. This is Moscow. It’s his world, and you’re in his city.” A flutter of wind touched their hair. Adrian’s tricks were few, and it was no more powerful than the sparks, but the effect worked. Yasmine paled.
“Understand that I can deliver what you want, but I require those items first.”
The silence stretched like living shadows, but Yasmine finally broke with a nod.
“Meet me here. Tonight.” A swipe sent the location.
So she had the device with her. The devils made their bargain. He rose to walk her out.
“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked at the door.
Her smile was all-knowing. Any hint of her previous discomfort was masterfully hidden by the slide of her eyes up and down his form.
“Is that an invitation?” she asked.
His smile did not touch his eyes. Flattered, perhaps, but dismissive. “In your dreams.”
After Yasmine was gone, Adrian was a man fixed on the displays at his command. There was information to gather.
Her impatient tongue flicked noise behind her teeth. Breaking the trance of his thoughts. Adrian gestured at the hologram. The portrait was years outdated. The portrait of a man in an American dress uniform. Black jacket tight around the throat. Red cords lined the seams. Medals pinned across the chest consistent with a lower ranking officer.
“You know who that is, of course?”
Yasmine was surprised by the question. The absurdity of it.
“I know everything about him,” she oozed confidence, but there was a hesitation in the tilt of her chin. She wondered where this was going.
“No you don’t,” he responded. Adrian was non-threatening in his posture and tone. His hands laced across his abdomen. Leaned back in the chair. The hydraulics accepted the shift of his weight effortlessly.
He went on.
“That is Jay Carpenter.”
She interrupted. “Jay Aaron Carpenter. Former United States Marine Corps. Discharged after shooting my husband’s brother against direct orders. Social Security Number 612-“ she paused mid-number. Adrian’s look said it all.
“Your information is outdated,” he said.
“You mean Legion Premiere and Jacques Danjou,” her mask of confidence settled once more. She wasn’t without connection, then, but the Legion wasn't covert. Legion Premiere was a legitimate business. Their employees were listed. They had their own human resources department.
“Private details from a company based in Africa isn’t easy to get. I respect that,” he said.
“But I repeat myself. Your information is still outdated. You don’t know who he is.”
There were likely few people in the world that could give Yasmine Amengual some pause. Adrian was clearly not among such an illustrious list. Danjou himself was worthy of inclusion, but Yasmine likely dismissed the frenchman against foolish judgment. But there was one.
“The head you want in your handbag belongs to one of the channelers that works for the Ascendancy, and I have it on good authority that he is one of his personal favorites.”
“I don’t care.” Her eyes stared defiance, but her voice trembled.
Adrian leaned forward. Voice a whisper. “You should care. This is Moscow. It’s his world, and you’re in his city.” A flutter of wind touched their hair. Adrian’s tricks were few, and it was no more powerful than the sparks, but the effect worked. Yasmine paled.
“Understand that I can deliver what you want, but I require those items first.”
The silence stretched like living shadows, but Yasmine finally broke with a nod.
“Meet me here. Tonight.” A swipe sent the location.
So she had the device with her. The devils made their bargain. He rose to walk her out.
“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked at the door.
Her smile was all-knowing. Any hint of her previous discomfort was masterfully hidden by the slide of her eyes up and down his form.
“Is that an invitation?” she asked.
His smile did not touch his eyes. Flattered, perhaps, but dismissive. “In your dreams.”
After Yasmine was gone, Adrian was a man fixed on the displays at his command. There was information to gather.