03-13-2014, 07:34 PM
"I said 'house,' not 'home.'"
He grinned slightly at the distinction, and the implications it rose. He didn't think he was a bad man, exactly, he just wasn't a good man either. Good men didn't enjoy plugging lead into other men, just for the satisfying knowledge that he was still the top dog.
Krasnyy Medved Security Solutions often saw themselves as the cream of the crop; they had ten times the number of employees as Pervaya, they had larger and longer contract terms, they provided security to some of the most important 'public sector' laboratories, facilities, and assets. But that was the difference between Pervaya and Krasnyy Medved. They protected the things. Pervaya protected the persons. They were smaller, operated quietly in the public eye yet almost entirely out of sight.
So who the hell was stupid enough to pay Krasnyy Medved to grease a Pervaya operative?
He spent a long moment savoring the view she offered as she traced a finger around his chest; the fall of her hair, how valiantly his jacket fought to keep her modesty, and how teasingly close it came to failing at the task.
Krasnyy Medved could wait; there were people at the Pervaya head office working on the mystery, and they would figure it out eventually and decide on an appropriate response. Should the target prove to have been Hood, then there would be repercussions far more violent then if it had been a botched hit on Mr Talanov. One was a matter of money and business, but attacking a Pervaya operative was personal.
He slid across the seat towards her, tracing her bare stomach softly with curled fingers, boldly moving into her personal space, "I may be heartless, but I do hate to disappoint."
They had unfinished business and he had kept her waiting far longer then he had the patience for.
At that late an hour, it wasn't hard to reach Hood's place. The neighborhood was run down, but hadn't the defeated slum feel that some parts of the city's outskirts did. His house stood out, mostly for being unusual rather then being wealthy. Carefully stacked and modified seacans were once unheard of as a building, but the trend had picked up in the past few decades. Just not so much in Moscow, the heart of the CCD.
The vehicle was pulled into the driveway and Koloman stepped out and surveyed the area with apparent boredom before opening the door for Spectra, "You two have a good night now. I hope Mr White keeps a clean house."
Hood hadn't been expecting any company that night, after all.
Hood just grumbled irritably and stepped out, giving the man a comfortable rap on the arm on his way by, "Circle the block a few times, will ya?"
Koloman just nodded, took a long moment to enjoy the view of Spectra climbing out, gave the driver a stern look to keep the younger man's eyes to himself, then climbed back in and they drove away, leaving Hood to show Spectra in.
They didn't even reach the porch before his flat mates made their presence known; the three dogs were hidden underneath the porch and seemed less then pleased with Hood and Spectra's arrival, barking and growling and snarling, although it was all just a big show.
Hood kicked one of the supports of the porch, "Shut the hell up you ingrates."
The three quieted down in short order, asides from the occasional irritable growl.
What would usually passed as a living room in most homes seemed better described as a gym and work area. The renovations were nearly complete, but the place still had a faint hint of fresh paint and wood dust. And despite all the work he had put into the place, and all the time he surely spent there, there wasn't a hint of personality to it. No photos, no books, no signs of it being a place lived in. Everything was neat and tidy, nothing seemingly 'in use.'
He grinned slightly at the distinction, and the implications it rose. He didn't think he was a bad man, exactly, he just wasn't a good man either. Good men didn't enjoy plugging lead into other men, just for the satisfying knowledge that he was still the top dog.
Krasnyy Medved Security Solutions often saw themselves as the cream of the crop; they had ten times the number of employees as Pervaya, they had larger and longer contract terms, they provided security to some of the most important 'public sector' laboratories, facilities, and assets. But that was the difference between Pervaya and Krasnyy Medved. They protected the things. Pervaya protected the persons. They were smaller, operated quietly in the public eye yet almost entirely out of sight.
So who the hell was stupid enough to pay Krasnyy Medved to grease a Pervaya operative?
He spent a long moment savoring the view she offered as she traced a finger around his chest; the fall of her hair, how valiantly his jacket fought to keep her modesty, and how teasingly close it came to failing at the task.
Krasnyy Medved could wait; there were people at the Pervaya head office working on the mystery, and they would figure it out eventually and decide on an appropriate response. Should the target prove to have been Hood, then there would be repercussions far more violent then if it had been a botched hit on Mr Talanov. One was a matter of money and business, but attacking a Pervaya operative was personal.
He slid across the seat towards her, tracing her bare stomach softly with curled fingers, boldly moving into her personal space, "I may be heartless, but I do hate to disappoint."
They had unfinished business and he had kept her waiting far longer then he had the patience for.
At that late an hour, it wasn't hard to reach Hood's place. The neighborhood was run down, but hadn't the defeated slum feel that some parts of the city's outskirts did. His house stood out, mostly for being unusual rather then being wealthy. Carefully stacked and modified seacans were once unheard of as a building, but the trend had picked up in the past few decades. Just not so much in Moscow, the heart of the CCD.
The vehicle was pulled into the driveway and Koloman stepped out and surveyed the area with apparent boredom before opening the door for Spectra, "You two have a good night now. I hope Mr White keeps a clean house."
Hood hadn't been expecting any company that night, after all.
Hood just grumbled irritably and stepped out, giving the man a comfortable rap on the arm on his way by, "Circle the block a few times, will ya?"
Koloman just nodded, took a long moment to enjoy the view of Spectra climbing out, gave the driver a stern look to keep the younger man's eyes to himself, then climbed back in and they drove away, leaving Hood to show Spectra in.
They didn't even reach the porch before his flat mates made their presence known; the three dogs were hidden underneath the porch and seemed less then pleased with Hood and Spectra's arrival, barking and growling and snarling, although it was all just a big show.
Hood kicked one of the supports of the porch, "Shut the hell up you ingrates."
The three quieted down in short order, asides from the occasional irritable growl.
What would usually passed as a living room in most homes seemed better described as a gym and work area. The renovations were nearly complete, but the place still had a faint hint of fresh paint and wood dust. And despite all the work he had put into the place, and all the time he surely spent there, there wasn't a hint of personality to it. No photos, no books, no signs of it being a place lived in. Everything was neat and tidy, nothing seemingly 'in use.'