| Deepest Recesses |
[05 May 2008|01:16pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 busy |
] |
[[Non Journal Entry]]
“I really don’t think we’re understanding one another,” Bethany purred as she straddled the young agent’s chest and leaned down to bare her teeth, glinting white and dangerously in the yellowing light.
His eyes widened as they came to fall on the tip of a Sais that rested a mere millimetre away from his pupil. “I’ve already sent God only knows how many of you away with the very same answer. We’re not interested in signing up to your Godforsaken initiative.”
“I’m not sure how many more of dead bodies it’s going to take to drive the point home.” She tipped her head and considered her prey through a delicate curl of blonde hair, out of place on the visage of cruelty that twisted her pretty features.
She rocked back onto stiletto heels and tipped her head, falling quiet again. “Stay right here.” Bethany eased leather clad legs off her fallen enemy and rose to her feet, smoothly and elegantly. She crossed over to the nearby window and pulled out her phone, managing to get a signal in the deepest recesses of Las Vegas. “Ralphael, cancel my three ‘o’ clock I’ve been unfortunately detained elsewhere.”
Bethany snapped her phone shut a second later and turned, frowning ever so slightly as it would appear the agent had taken it upon himself to get up and run. “Stupid boy.” She twisted her Sais and began after him, using his blood as the trail she would follow him to where she’d inevitably kill him.
She had caught this one trying to take down a couple vampires and even though she didn’t care much for the unknowns wandering this side of Vegas she wasn’t about to let them get slaughtered in some ridiculous government crackdown on the Supernatural.
So much for the land of the free.
|
|
| Stolen Snippets Of Conversation |
[05 May 2008|01:27pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
working |
] |
[[Non Journal Entry]]
“We got a deal?”
“Yeah, we have a deal.”
“Good, get it done tonight and I’ll have your money by morning.”
There’s a slight pause in the conversation and a slow inhale of smoke. “Remember, you talk to nobody. Not right now. It isn’t safe.”
Paranoia seeps in, like it does with every conversation these days.
“I get that.”
“You sure?”
A roll of blue eyes and a stolen drag of another’s cigarette. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Good.” There’s a hand and it’s patting the younger man’s cheek, like he would if he was family.
“Dude.”
Somebody laughs low and soft before it’s muffled by a small coughing fit, one too many cigarettes and some have finally gotten into the corners of lungs. “Just get it done.”
“I will.”
|
|
| The sign up ahead |
[05 May 2008|10:34pm] |
|
|