Operation: Poisoned Honey - Wages Of Sin
Dec. 24th, 2012 04:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripper posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsIn New York, about the same time as the Madrid team are finishing up their ambush, the brownstone is experiencing one of their own.
It was that twilight period that blurred the lines between 'very late' and 'very early', the time that Guys and Dolls phrased as 'a couple of deals before dawn'. The time of day when sexual liaisons tended to lead to the 'walk of shame'. Roland slipped out from under the covers as Cammie slept, put on his clothes, and quietly let himself out of her apartment.
Down in the lobby, a security guard sat. His eyes flicked to Roland as the young man came down. He'd seen the man enter with Cammie, and it hadn't been difficult to guess what they'd had in mind. Now, he was clearly headed out before any awkward morning-after discussions had to take place. Roland looked like he was headed for the door, then changed direction, crossing to the desk like he was going to ask the guard for directions or to call a cab.
As the guard opened his mouth and was about to ask what he needed, Roland reached into his pocket, where a small X-Acto blade lay, slicing the pad of his index finger along it. Then, he leaned down companionably on the desk...and stuck his finger to the guard's lips. The guard arched backward, clutching at his throat as a cocktail of dozens of lethal toxins attacked his body. He was dead in seconds, slumped backwards in his chair.
A few seconds longer to check, and then Roland crossed to the door, holding it open wide. "Let's go.
Asp strode inside first, eyes scanning the surroundings. "It's all quiet?" She sniffed. "You'll do."
Behind her, a group of black-clad figures began filtering into the lobby, spreading out. Some headed for the stairs, others disappeared towards the parking garage and other ground floor structures. The last was a blond woman, who slipped through the doors with an eerie grace. "No disturbance outside," Black Mamba reported to Asp and Roland. "Did you leave your little girlfriend alive, Death Adder?"
Roland's answering grin was cold, befitting the names the Serpent Society had taken for themselves. "I was going to leave her for last, so she could see just what she..."
Their conference was interrupted as the apartment door to the right of the lobby opened, and an old man paused, in the process of taking out a bag of trash. His eyes darted from the body on the floor and the people walking in. Before they could react, he tossed the bag at them, showering a mix of coffee grounds and orange peels in their faces as he moved to his left with surprisingly deftness for an old man. Bucky Barnes had faced war in a hundred places over the years, had seen the ruins of Dresden and walked through the gates of concentration camps as young soldiers stood in dumb horror. Fear was not a weapon available against him. Before they could stop him, he wrestled open the fire alarm and pulled the signalling switch down. Belatedly, they moved to intercept him, but the old man pulled his apartment door shut. It wouldn't stop a determined effort to get through it, but he'd already eliminated their chief advantage; surprise. They didn't have time for anything else.
"Shit." Roland's cursing was not too heated. They still had surprise on their side if they moved quickly. "Everyone has their targets." It was a statement, not a question, answered by short nods. "Then move."
It was that twilight period that blurred the lines between 'very late' and 'very early', the time that Guys and Dolls phrased as 'a couple of deals before dawn'. The time of day when sexual liaisons tended to lead to the 'walk of shame'. Roland slipped out from under the covers as Cammie slept, put on his clothes, and quietly let himself out of her apartment.
Down in the lobby, a security guard sat. His eyes flicked to Roland as the young man came down. He'd seen the man enter with Cammie, and it hadn't been difficult to guess what they'd had in mind. Now, he was clearly headed out before any awkward morning-after discussions had to take place. Roland looked like he was headed for the door, then changed direction, crossing to the desk like he was going to ask the guard for directions or to call a cab.
As the guard opened his mouth and was about to ask what he needed, Roland reached into his pocket, where a small X-Acto blade lay, slicing the pad of his index finger along it. Then, he leaned down companionably on the desk...and stuck his finger to the guard's lips. The guard arched backward, clutching at his throat as a cocktail of dozens of lethal toxins attacked his body. He was dead in seconds, slumped backwards in his chair.
A few seconds longer to check, and then Roland crossed to the door, holding it open wide. "Let's go.
Asp strode inside first, eyes scanning the surroundings. "It's all quiet?" She sniffed. "You'll do."
Behind her, a group of black-clad figures began filtering into the lobby, spreading out. Some headed for the stairs, others disappeared towards the parking garage and other ground floor structures. The last was a blond woman, who slipped through the doors with an eerie grace. "No disturbance outside," Black Mamba reported to Asp and Roland. "Did you leave your little girlfriend alive, Death Adder?"
Roland's answering grin was cold, befitting the names the Serpent Society had taken for themselves. "I was going to leave her for last, so she could see just what she..."
Their conference was interrupted as the apartment door to the right of the lobby opened, and an old man paused, in the process of taking out a bag of trash. His eyes darted from the body on the floor and the people walking in. Before they could react, he tossed the bag at them, showering a mix of coffee grounds and orange peels in their faces as he moved to his left with surprisingly deftness for an old man. Bucky Barnes had faced war in a hundred places over the years, had seen the ruins of Dresden and walked through the gates of concentration camps as young soldiers stood in dumb horror. Fear was not a weapon available against him. Before they could stop him, he wrestled open the fire alarm and pulled the signalling switch down. Belatedly, they moved to intercept him, but the old man pulled his apartment door shut. It wouldn't stop a determined effort to get through it, but he'd already eliminated their chief advantage; surprise. They didn't have time for anything else.
"Shit." Roland's cursing was not too heated. They still had surprise on their side if they moved quickly. "Everyone has their targets." It was a statement, not a question, answered by short nods. "Then move."
