Out now!
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♊︎Year 5067, Month 4, Day 6, Time 6:45 pm♊︎
"Oi, Dumb-ass," A stern voice on the other end of the earpiece calls for her, bringing her out of the mindless stupor she was just lost in. Her lip twitches upward in a scowl and she's tempted to insult the man on the other side with a colorful set of offenses but she thinks better of it, remembering where she is and for what.
"Was the insult necessary?" She speaks back to the man who just chuckles in a low tone.
"To see you pissed off, yes. Don't think I didn't see the scowl you made," At hearing this, the woman lifts her head, looking around the room, dimly lit by the magnificent candelabras whose lights delicately kiss the creme-colored walls in an enticing way. They make the walls appear to be made out of pure gold.
Filled with hushed-chatter and gossip of the highest class, the first place exudes snottiness and money. There's a slight whirring of a mechanism that she hears coming before above her head and for a moment she sees the grey drone break out of its camouflage to briefly reveal its self to her. That, she supposes, is where her partner is monitoring her from.
She picks up the half-filled glass of pinkish champagne that had been placed before her moments ago, taking a large swig as she looks directly into the drone's camera.
"Creep," She mutters just loud enough for the earpiece to pick it up. Exactly as she had expected, the man on the line protests, making the edge of her lip curl up into a smirk knowing she's gotten back at him. "Okay now. Concentrate. Give me a rundown of the assignment." She commands quietly, conscious of the people in finely tailored suits and obnoxiously conspicuous dresses around her. Obediently, her friend begins summing up what it is she was assigned to this place for.
"The first target's name: Giovanni Montebello."
"Italian, lemme guess, is he a mob boss someone wants dead?"
"Ooh, so close! He's actually a million-dollar entrepreneur that has recently had a falling-out with the man that filed this request. The report here says..." She hears her partner pause briefly as the small sound of pages flipping scratches at her ear. "He's the head of a sex trafficking ring for the disgustingly rich and touch-deprived perverts in the upper class. Has been for about 2 years, actually. Can you believe this man charges his customers 4k per hour?! The people willing to pay that must be horny as hell."
Her jaw clenches when she hears the information on her next victim being dutifully reported to her. Both repulsed and angered, she finds herself glad that she decided to take up the assignment before anyone else.
"Poor girls," She laments sadly, moving on before she can get too caught up in that train of thought. "Anything else I should know?" She asks, downing the last bit of her champagne smoothly while looking around the highest-of-class banquet hall she finds herself in.
Everyone is going about their own business, talking in hushed tones to not disrupt the orchestra that's currently playing "Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra. Still a classic. The smell of cheap colognes and pricey perfumes begin to sting her nostrils that she begins to get a bit light-headed. To think that the highest people of society would choose to save their money on colognes while they spend their billions on other banalities.
"The second target is the reason for this expensively decorated banquet hall. Dr. Amy Greenberg, shareholder and lead scientist to the largest company in the world— MALUS industries. She was suspected to be the mole for a project on the latest drug that's to be released into the black market for the highest bidder. Better to stay safe than sorry, I guess."
MALUS industries.
To the world, it would appear as the next revolutionary company since Apple. But to her, it was just a facade to the world of underground criminally insane people. The highest of society protecting the scum of society. Neat.
All those thousands of dollars people spend on the inventions produced and massively shipped are just funds that help the obscured but steadily growing enterprise. As the economy grows, so do the tensions between competitors and as tensions rise, so does the need for dirty work.
Which is where people like her come in.
"Alright, Goldie, Let's get this show on the road."
"Q! I told you I hate that name! It's Hetmon!" The male on the other end whines childishly.
"I know, Goldie," She teases, getting up gracefully from where she sat, tucking a loose strand of the terribly itchy blonde hair that fell in front of her eyes. How people manage to deal with long hair is beyond her.
Her lip curls up into a giddy grin as her hands begin to itch for what comes next. She can already feel the tingling in her stomach as she imagines what this kill will look like. She might even take her time on this so-called "Montebello" guy, considering the type of crappy-ass side business he has going on.
As she walks through the crowd of pampered people, she can feel their side-glances and snarky smiles trained on her.
Confidently still, she saunters through the crowd, pretending to be oblivious to it all. Some of the men check her out as she walks by, some more obviously than others thanks to the curve-hugging, navy-blue dress she has on. In this light, it appears to be different colors at once.
The column dress is a bareback with very thin, narrow shoulder straps that she's not even sure how it manages to hold up, but it does. The front is a cowl-neck design that plunges a bit lower than expected with a ruched side seam on her high-side slit.
Grateful for having listened to her friend earlier today, she goes on faithful that her tattoos are hidden temporarily by the pill he gave her. The satin dress follows her every movement with just as much elegance as the wearer.
Her fake smile, one that comes naturally to her with pent-up years of practice, holds up pretty well despite her inner battle with the disgust she has for these pigs.
While she puts up the charming front for the people around her, her true intentions go unnoticed. No one would have suspected her to be on the call for someone's head.
After all, people are gullible.
That's a lesson she learned early on.
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