❝I chose this, so God
help me. I will shoot
you if I have to.❞
⟶ In which nine people are recruited
to carry an ambitious plan to print
€2.4 billion. One of which is a medic,
the Professor'...
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Nadia played with her drink. They offered her a beer, but she declined to opt for a chilled glass of water instead. The initial suspense loosened, now that they were seated in a more casual setting than the attic dressed classroom. A haze of smoke billowed around her, just as it had in the bar that she and the Professor had met. She felt dazed in the fog of the intoxicating fragrances of tobacco and alcohol.
Multiple shades of blue crossed the room. It wasn't evening, but the walls of the house was worn and torn, some windows sealed with decaying old wood, collecting age old grime.Two curtained windows allowed a cool breeze stream in along with enough honeyed light for them to see each other. Beside tobacco and alcohol, she smelled the lingering ancient smoke in the dust of the painted walls and wooden floors. It had a certain charm, hidden in the dilapidated cracks lost to history and time; weathered by lonely seasons. At the very least, it was habitable.
She threw a few glances at the Professor, who was busying himself with a red square of paper. Occasionally answering any questions that Tokyo and Denver hollered out. He didn't seem to mind as they all chatted away, slowly getting to know each other. She studied the table, mapped with cities and platters of food. At least they seemed to be friendly people, even if it was just a superficial mask.
They were total strangers, friends with city names. Stuck together until the day they escaped with their billions. Belgrade didn't mind. It was this or alcohol.
She listened to all their quips and chatter, mindlessly picking at her food, not bothering to engage in their rather lively discussion. The doctor wasn't used to this sort of company or any company at all. But it wasn't unwelcome.
"What if the plan goes south? What happens if the plan fails?" Rio questioned, toying with the bread in his hands. The boy was only nineteen, yet already dabbled in multiple cyber-attacks which he expertly did so discreetly, safe-keeping his identity. He was quick to be an open book, eager to engage in a conversation with her, and he was the only person who had any sense or memory of normality. It was clear upon first impressions that he was the one who could've lived an ordinary life apart from her. Surely it was the same with her.
Nairobi gulled, shrugging, "Well darling, same as always. Back to the can."
"If all goes well, what are we doing with all that money?" Tokyo asked, which Denver's antics giddy answered. Blue eyes ignited with an excitement of life she had never before crossed, she was warming up to Moscow's son. She wasn't exactly sure what his role was though, other than being Moscow's son.
