Wake Up Call

AnarchysSpawn · Poison Candy

Wake Up Call

tainted love · 6...6...6...9

[ not certain if this should be posted elsewhere or on the thread considering since he's not a member of the Vatican cult I stuck him in a cafe somewhere in Rome. I can move it easily if such is teh case! ]

He rather liked the quiet of a cafe in the early afternoon. He'd gotten used to the endless bustle of Chicago and Los Angeles, and while Rome was a tourism 'hot-spot', attracting more than its fair share of attention, where he was at present seemed splendidly immune. He had been there for the better part of the afternoon, watching people he didn't know as they poured in and out of the cafe, on business or pleasure errands with smiles on their faces.. the occasional frown. It was an endless buffet of physical differences, and Six had not yet tired of sitting in the middle of it... a detached voyeur with the deceptively innocent calm of youth in his deep-set, dark eyes.

He'd paid a woman to come home with him the night before, simply because he wanted to experience another body. It wasn't loneliness, real sexual desire, or for that matter at all related to some general dissatisfaction at the chill of his bed, which normally was empty. He'd paid for it because it was interesting, and because she must have been new. He could still taste her. She'd been clean; as yet unsullied by a career of opened legs. His interest in her had been somewhat clinical - a prostitute that clean deserved some attention. She had unique features.. high cheekbones, a narrow, pretty chin.... her legs were long, her torso somewhat short, and her chest as bountiful as a plank board - he liked that. She had been from France, not Italy, and she'd spoken shattered English with a heavy accent. He'd not understood a word she had said the entire night but he'd enjoyed her body all the same, and he'd sent her on her way with her money and hardly so much as a backward glance once he'd been done. It had wiled away the hours, at the very least, and in its aftermath he'd showered and slept.

Now he found himself warming his generously large hands around an equally generously wide, bowl-like coffee cup. Inside his cappucino steamed against the conditioned air of the room. Next to it, Six had laid out a notebook... a diary perhaps, or just a scrawling pad for the endless stream of thoughts or interesting things he saw. The page it was turned to happened to be blank, and he had yet to bring out a pen, so the journal's presence was somewhat curious in and of itself. Also on the table was a pastry, half-eaten, and a pair of biscotti that he'd abandoned.

Burned toast he could conjure up without difficulty back at his unfurnished, still completely empty flat. He hardly needed to pay top-Euro for strips of burned toast. Some things that might have been curious struck him instead as just downright stupid.

A woman slipped by his table and glanced at him. Six inclined a brow and followed her figure until it disappeared.

That one absolutely wasn't clean.

-- Edited by tainted love on Friday 12th of June 2009 02:26:49 PM

Baroness DuMorne · Demonic Nobility

The rain was just getting into the full swing of things when Rowan left Xander's place. Thunder rolled lazily above her head and in the distance lightning flashed, illuminating the distant outline of the Vatican City. Rowan may have thought Xander's place incredibly over price and over hyped but you just couldn't argue with the view.

Ideally, Rowan would have extended her visit at his apartment till she could feel his urge to kick ask her to leave (i.e. "get out.") But there was work to be done and the Djavo knew quite well that all appearances aside, the gleam in Xander's eyes wasn't for her. It was for the possibility of violence to come that had him going. And as much fun as it would have been to shut her eyes and pretend that it was her and only her that got his engine revving, Rowan would still know the truth. It didn't stop her from pouting when she left the downright sterile place he called Home.

A place made slightly homier by the little touches of herself that Rowan left behind. A lipstick "accidentally" dropped behind the night stand. A pair of her panties mixed in with his laundry. There were other things, but Rowan walled those thoughts off completely lest Xander take a peek inside her mind, like he was prone to do on occasion, and find the little treasures. It was so much more fun when he discovered them on his own. No matter what, Rowan never got tired of seeing that temple vein do the Cha-Cha, sick creature that she was.

The rest of the rainy day was spent in research.

The mere fact that they picked Rowan to go snooping amid Mr.. Goldman's unmentionables was a testament to how prized the information was. Goldman's economic and influential worth aside, he seemed like an interesting nut and Rowan couldn't wait to take a peek under the shell. But even they weren't delusional enough to send in their operatives into complete darkness.

When Rowan got home she found a delivery boy waiting at her doorstep. Some poor page boy tapped to do God's work. Taking his duty quite seriously and no doubt willing to lose his life to keep the contents of the envelope safe. The ward on the silk ribbon, that held the leather envelope closed, made sure of it.The spell was woven into the silk, each strand tying the bearer's will to the task at hand. Only when Rowan's fingers touched the material did the ward break and the delivery boy could go on his merry way satisfied at a job well done.

The packet contained all the usual information a thief (or an assassin) might find useful. Who the target was. Where the target lived. Where the target worked. A rudimentary routine schedule, architectural blue prints of both the house, office and any other places of interest Mr... Goldman has been known to visit. As far as a fountain of information, the packet wasn't. It was clean, bare bones Intel that left plenty of room for Rowan to fill with her own observations. A black and white sketch she could turn into a masterpiece.

The house blue prints left a lot to be desired of course. As vast and as powerful the Vatican Cult was, they weren't omniscient. A fact that they worked very hard at keeping secret. Still, the basic layout of the house to go on was better than going in blind. All it meant was that Rowan would have to make two trips.

One would be a reconnaissance visit. A trip to scope out the security system and to see if the house was still true to the original layout or if it had been modified into an entirely different building. Add to that a concern about the security system, possible security guards and their trusty security guard dogs and Rowan literally had her work cut out for her. Not that the Djavo was complaining. Any job that required that much thought and planning was filed away under the heading of a Challenge. And lately, her life was lacking in challenges. Fun? There was plenty of that to be had, but Rowan was still waiting for her Everest.

After spending a couple of hours with the information the Vatican Cult had put together, Rowan well on her way to knowing everything she needed to know in order do her assigned task. As far as Ishmael Goldman went she did learn a few valuable things. One. There was more to the man that met the eye. Two. He was very good at keeping his unmentionables unmentioned. Three. The minute she had the funds she'd invest in one of his companies. Which in turn might put a bit of starch in Xander's britches but it was a risk Rowan was willing to take. Mr... Goldman appeared to be very competent at his job. So what if she planned to break into his house and snoop through his "diary." Didn't mean she didn't appreciate the man's business savvy.

And with additional information regarding the mystery man, Six, that had the Djavo more curious than exited. Tracking down people was remedial work. With today's advances in technology it was a shock there were secrets still left in the world, and tracking down individuals of an unusual nature was far easier than the TV shows and Movies made it seem. All one had to do is find a lead and follow it from there. And unless this Six was the second coming of Houdini he'd find himself under the giant proverbial microscope of the Vatican Cult soon enough. Whether or not there would be a giant proverbial scalpel, that was up to high muckety-muck himself.

By then, the rain had let up and the strangle hold the clouds had on the sky was starting to loosen. Sunlight filtered through the openings, creating moving islands of light on the wet pavement. Slowly but surely it was shaping up to be a nice day. Too nice a day to spend indoors fussing over plans like some evil doer from an old timey movie. Rowan was many things but she wasn't one to lurk about in her home till it was time to strike. After putting all of the papers away into her "Safe Room" the Djavo stretch, relishing the twinges of sore muscles. After a night of marathon sex that and a morning of digging through pure information Rowan felt like shopping. A little "me" time during which to relax so that she could be fresh and clear headed for when it was time to pay Mr.. Goldman's house a visit. Yes, shopping, that sounded divine.