3rd Person View:
The air was heavy with the scent of cheap perfume, alcohol & long gone cigarettes. There was a roar of chatter, both quiet conversations between underworld figures & loud discussions of those who had too much to drink. The establishment looked like a botched attempt to combine a 1920's speakeasy & a classic Hollywood theater. The chandelier fixtures gave off poor lighting, thick, gaudy red curtains with gold sashes littered the room at seemingly random locations, the maroon walls were in desperate need of a repaint & the deep red carpets had become dirty beyond the power of any cleaning solvent. The small bar towards the back was poorly stocked & overpriced while the dark colored tables plotted around a tiny stage area were tacky in both taste & feel. Surely no suave, sophisticated gentleman would find himself in such a place, right? Wrong.
Sitting at the table furthest in the back with a water downed drink in hand was the dangerous assassin simply known as Spy. His eyes were intently focused on the small stage that had a single microphone on it. He did not see nor hear the down-on-their-luck laborers or the cheating frat boy millionaires or the greedy bookies or the sleazy thugs or the coquettish prostitutes; no, he only paid any mind to the stage. Suddenly the lights dimmed, 2 bright spot lights shone on the stage & the static of a an archaic PA system turning on silenced all dialogue. "Ladies & gentlemen!" a deep voice boomed over the crackling static, "please give a big farewell & good luck round of applause to our one & only Colette D'Arc!" A burst of clapping, whistling & cheering exploded from the crowd as the woman in question walked on stage,
Colette D'Arc was around Scout's age, though God knows she is far more mature. Even from a distance everyone can tell she's tall. She's thin, but has enough curves to leave men with their mouths open & women feeling jealous. The sleeveless red ball gown she wore only made her look more beautiful. It perfectly complimented her round face & high cheek bones. It made her grey eyes pop & emphasized the glossiness of her dark, jaw length hair. It brought out the healthy glow of her pale skin. She wore only one piece of jewelry: a silver heart-shaped locket embedded with a mother of pearl. The very same locket that belonged to her mother.
Colette gave a small wave to the crowd & waited a few moments for the commotion to die down. When it did, Colette gave a nod to whoever was standing just off stage. Music began to filter out of the out of date stereo system. Colette waited a few seconds before starting to sing.
Dancing bears, painted wings
Things I almost remember
And a song someone sings
Once upon a December
Spy did not believe in Heaven or Hell or God or Satan, but he did believe that Colette had the voice of an angel.
Someone holds me safe and warm
Horses prance through a silver storm
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory
With every sweet, smooth word that came out of Colette as she sang, Spy was taken back years & years ago.
Far away, long ago
Glowing dim as an ember
Things my heart used to know
Once upon a December
He was a young man visiting his mother's grave near Lyon. There was a girl, she looked very similar to Colette minus the fact this girl had blonde hair, who was visiting the graves of her grandparents
Someone holds me safe and warm
Horses prance through a silver storm
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory
Spy remembered having lunch with her, talking with her, laughing with her, dancing with her, kissing her... Marrying her...
Far away, long ago
Glowing dim as an ember
Things my heart used to know
Things it yearns to remember
Holding their newborn daughter as she died... & giving that daughter up when his job became too risky... Regretting having to watch her grow up from the shadows...
And a song someone sings
Once upon a December
Once the song ended, the patrons of Speakeasy Fun absolutely roared in drunken delight, awe & amaze. Spy set his drink on the table & stood up. He made his way to the doors of the club as Colette bowed & her audience begged for an encore. Once outside in the chilly Autumn air, Spy took out a cigar & lit it. He took in a puff of smoke & breathed it out deeply. This was the one thing he wanted; to see his daughter. He held no delusions about the threat the team faced. Gray Mann was a powerful, intelligent man with a near unlimited number of robots at his disposal. Spy knew there was a high probability that he would die in this war... So before he could, he just wanted to see his daughter... Possibly for the last time...