Bar Mucha
A/N: My apologies for the disappearing act. It's been quite some time. I would like to thank the readers and reviewers who have continued to support this.
In my absence I have managed to scrape together some semblance of a plot and would like to extend a thank you to Drifting Reader for helping me with a particularly stubborn part which will appear in the upcoming arc.
Hopefully, I can work to this vague plan and finish off the fic but for now here's a long overdue update.
Warning: This chapter is long, it follows well in its author's footsteps and falls firmly in the realm of the verbose.
Anon Viewer Z: Thank you for the review. I well and truly chickened out at the end of that last chapter and went for the happy ending. I just couldn't think of Miria as evil. No comment on the twins aka they'll probably appear somewhere, I have no idea. Oh, that dreaded kitchen scene, I still can't believe I wrote that as you're well aware romance is not my strong point. Why did I tag this as romance again? Glad you mentioned the Teresa scene it was a little homage to I think a similar scene in the manga. Audrey and Galatea? I have no idea what you're implying =). As for Cassandra actually appearing in the fic, well I'm trying, she'll make her entrance soon. Once again, thanks for commenting.
E: Yay! Thank you for your review.
Not Sure: Update was in limbo due to the horrific scaring incurred upon re-reading chapter nine. It's taken nearly a year and more to get over it. Thank you for your review.
Guest: It's extremely late, but here's the update. Thank you for reviewing.
Guest: Thank you for reviewing and for taking the time to create an account. I'm very happy and grateful that this crazy fic has made your list. Glad the characters are working out for you as I'm taking quite some liberties with them. Oh, its very late but Galatea would like to thank you for the praise and to inform you that she is well aware that she is the best damn thing in this fic, Miria aside. Thank you for your review, love ya too.
Guest: Unfortunately, writer's block had the final say. Here's the very very late update. Thank you for your review.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything and after this chapter you'll all be thankful that's the case.
Perhaps the warning signs were glaringly obvious as the greeting that followed the opening of the door to room number six had gone unanswered. This, along with the tightly clutched phone in her hand really should have sent the alarm bells ringing but absence, however brief, dulled the senses with a certain fondness. Or it might have been the pressing matter of the rather expensive overtime fees these love hotels charged that led to the far too jovial disregard for the glaringly obvious. For as the victim swung the door open and cheerfully announced their arrival the spiky haired woman, the lone occupant of the room sprang into action. Never before had an iphone sailed through the air with such precision hitting the target square between the eyes.
Job done the improvised weapon fell to the floor, the outstretched peace offering within the target's hands following. Confused silver eyes regarded their companion whose gaze was growing more murderous with each passing second. In a single blink, the held gaze was broken. The now fuming woman stomped forward, her boots crushing down upon the remnants of what had once been a bouquet of her favourite red roses. It was surprising really and a tad annoying that between the time of their last phone call and the seconds it had taken to exit the lift and walk to the hotel door, her temperamental mood had flared to such a degree. But then that was the price of her company and the very thing that made life with her so damn exciting. She grabbed a fist full of the newly ironed shirt, the material cushioning her knuckles and executed a vicious uppercut.
"Unforgivable! This is unforgiveable. After everything, you go and betray me. Explain yourself!"
"I'd rather you go first."
The offended tone managed to mask the inner thoughts that couldn't help but wonder if this whole nightly rendezvous was proving to be a rather expensive failure. But that was the least of their worries as the iphone had been retrieved and was now dangerously close to leaving a second bruise as she brandished it forward.
"What is this?" she demanded gesturing wildly, her voice lacking its usual monotone.
"It's a phone?"
Perhaps it was the accumulation of bruises that temporarily waylaid common sense as eyes widened in recognition; the following words doing little to improve the current situation.
"Oh, isn't that my phone?"
A single glare from those silver eyes still locked upon their prey seemed to have been designed purely to inform the recipient that they would not be leaving the room alive. She angrily punched in the phone's security code, and as the screen loaded, with a flick of the wrist she displayed the source of her anger.
"And what is this?"
The cause of an early death if the current circumstances continued and probably not the smartest answer to the question as one of her hands had re-established its grip upon the shirt.
"It's a photograph…of you."
"And what is it doing as your wallpaper?"
At this point in the conversation, honesty was the only option for survival but such grim odds had never particularly mattered before. In these circumstances honesty was of little use when confidence could serve as a much more preferred substitute. The smile widened a fraction to show impeccably white teeth.
"It was the only one of you I could find."
"Why would you want my picture as your wallpaper?"
Why, was such a tricky question to answer, as the endless possibilities led towards an unsavoury conclusion, possibly a straight plunge off the closest cliff that despite the jump was managing to look quite appealing.
"If you really need to know it's quite simple…"
For when in doubt take the direct approach by prying her rigid hand from its grip upon the shirt just as the good defence handbook says. The next step is optional, but being an opportunist is second nature and she reacts on cue as if the gentle massage being applied to her whitened knuckles is definitely not at all in any way soothing.
"It's because I can't stop thinking about you."
From the mind to the mouth in less than a second and all due to a brief flirtation with the idea there could be so much more between them. But from the narrowing of her eyes it seems the consensus isn't entirely mutual as she is probably beginning to find the idea of slapping some sense into someone who clearly needs it downright enticing.
Her fingers left the entwined hold to trail gently over the face in front of her. The once murderous gaze softened as with eyes downcast she leaned forward to whisper to her captive audience.
"Until you turn off your phone and I can't reach you."
This was undeniably the wrong time for her to discover just how damn good it felt to be the cause of the disappointed gaze that was levelled at her.
"I was working."
"Oh, I believe you."
The menu upon the phone was accessed. The folder labelled pictures selected and opened to reveal the image of a tall blonde gazing seductively over her bare shoulder in the direction of the camera. The photo that followed was of the same woman only this time she had traded her lacy lingerie for a red bikini.
"So do you shuffle your wallpaper or just change it on a daily basis?"
It was unfair really all the more so as the fight response was oh so predicable but it was somewhat impressive how fluid the movement seemed, how arms encircled her waist as if the only way she could be placated was through the invasion of her personal space.
"Those are work related. You know what my job is."
"Even this one?"
She almost felt sorry as the arms released their hold. A defeated sigh followed upon seeing the picture displayed. She was looking forward to the explanation concerning the identity of the owner of the very impressive abs shown in the photo.
"He's just a model I met."
"When you were working?"
"I don't think you're in a position to complain considering what you brought home."
Mere hours ago, the accusation would have sent her into an indignant rage but she was working on her anger management and was never going to rise to the bait of someone's scorn especially not when it contained a vital clue. And this person in front of her would always prove to be the exception to the rules, if they still played by them, for emotions beyond rage and indifference become truly messy concepts when it comes to trying to understand them.
"Is this what this is about? Are you still brooding over the time I brought my friend home for dinner?"
A sudden interest in the contents of the room was enough to confirm her suspicions because for them to have lasted thirty minutes of the booked two hours without trying to speedily undress each other must be a new record. It made their current location amusing but then again their selected room's theme and name did more to confuse than excite. It was truly terrible taste that of all the options offered at a love hotel to have picked the only one with nearly sub zero temperatures. But she knew that it made them more compatible which was just as obvious as knowing that the igloo forming the main attraction of the room didn't usually come with an inbuilt sound system that had steadily played a slow romantic piece throughout their confrontation.
"You were all over him."
To think further would surely exhaust her brain and she would like to forget that she was partly responsible for the situation as she gets dreadfully over protective at times but then again they are so very similar.
Her arms encircled a suddenly tense neck, the light from the phone's screen fading as sometimes it is better to remain in the dark about some things. Or at least put up a temporary pretence.
"Why didn't you just tell me you were jealous?"
When and where, the remote was acquired would remain a mystery but as the lights dimmed to give way to the changing mood lights that splashed their colours across the walls of the igloo bringing the structure to life, she found she didn't really care. The tempo of the music increased as arms returned to their position around her waist. The climax of the piece approached, the orchestra surged towards the finale, the lovers moved to kiss and as the cymbals built towards their crescendo with a smash, the door flew open, a lone figure executing a perfect commando roll into the room.
"Freeze! Put your hands where I can see 'em!"
The gun and the sudden light in the room that clashed horribly with the still flashing mood lights killed their moment. The intruder shared a confused look with their backup who upon holstering her weapon identified their suspect with a hesitant question.
"Isley?"
"Flora." He greeted the woman by the door as the arms around his neck painfully tightened.
"Helen."
He would have nodded in the direction of Flora's partner but the tender hold of moments before had turned into an iron vice-like grip. The two Ghosts appeared to be aware of his situation, Helen holstering her gun with a sheepish look as she scratched the back of her neck looking for something to say.
"So…" Helen paused taking in their position. "Didn't you two break up?"
Sometimes there were days when Isley felt the world pulled him out of bed for the sole purpose of knocking him down hours later. His now ex-girlfriend shoved him backwards. She returned to the bed to pick up her handbag and slinging it over her shoulder she reached for the nearby pillow sending it flying towards him.
"Priscilla, please don't be like this."
A second pillow ended negotiations, Priscilla moving with her incredible speed to reclaim the first. She swung it towards Isley who ducked out of the way.
"Let me explain, Priscilla."
Unable to duck the next blow, as Priscilla had now adjusted to her new weapon, Isley further implored her, his arms keeping the ensuring volley of hits at bay.
"Priscilla, can we talk about this?"
"Who the hell are these brazen women? Are they models you just happen to know?"
The second pillow which had remained on the floor was kicked in the direction of the Ghosts with startling accuracy and as an enraged Priscilla rounded on them the two abandoned the mission sprinting for the exit. The door slammed shut just in time to block Priscilla's attempt at a head shot. Exchanging looks, Helen shrugged in response to Flora's silent question of just what the hell was going on. They turned in unison as a particularly loud thump sounded behind them, the door rattling in response. As the thumping continued, the one thing keeping them safe but sure to fall at any moment, realisation crossed the diva's features. The shaking hand of Agent Apple confirmed her fears. Helen reached forward to touch the room number upon the still shaking door. Guiding the number upwards, the two Ghosts inwardly swore as the nine formed a six. Helen was unable to stop from voicing their failure.
"Damn, wrong room."
For all her multiple faults she was proving surprisingly punctual mused Miria glancing down at her watch to see the time. It was just seven in the morning, about thirty minutes since she had checked out of the hotel opposite. The same hotel into which God Eye, followed closely by Teresa, had just bolted seconds before. So, the chase was still on then. Miria nervously twirled the car keys in her hand unable to stop her gaze from drifting back to the entrance of the hotel.
There was just one busy street between them. At least she would know exactly when God Eye left, as the hotel's only exit point could be observed from the windows of the convenience store she was hiding in. The store was also a couple of shops down the street which would give her time to make her escape the second she saw the agent. Miria jumped as she felt the familiar vibrations from her phone and answering the call she heard Hilda's worried voice.
"Are they already there?" Hilda skipped the formalities. "This is dangerous, what if you're caught?"
"They just went in," Miria updated her. "Don't worry, Hilda, I'll be leaving soon."
"Their response time is getting too quick," Hilda further worried. "I should be with you. Why did you make me go on ahead?"
"Because…" Miria dropped into a sudden crouch, her gaze now level with the biscuits placed on the middle shelf of the aisle in which she had been loitering. "You're my first priority and I'll be careful not to get caught."
"Will I ever know just who happens to be chasing you?"
Before she could reply there was movement at the entrance of the hotel, God Eye and Teresa exiting onto the sidewalk, the two agents glancing around before disappearing down the ramp that led to the underground parking for the hotel. Miria watched their progress from the gap offered between the wafers and cookies, the assassin quickly having removed the chocolate biscuits obscuring her view. The agents out of sight, Miria quickly made her way to the check-out pausing to grab some milk on the way. She placed her two purchases on the counter.
"Will that be all Miss?" the young man on the counter asked. Miria quickly removed from her pocket a small note upon which was written a symbol formed by four strokes.
It bore a resemblance to a cross with its two added strokes pointing diagonally upwards from both ends of the single horizontal stroke. Quickly hiding the note from sight, the man gave her an awkward nod of acknowledgement before stiffly walking away towards the back of the store. Miria watched him go, ever so slightly amused before she quickly glanced towards the window that offered her a view of the entrance to the hotel car park.
"Is whoever chasing you the owner of that credit card?" Hilda had taken the silence from Miria's end as a sign of reluctance. She was now changing tactics and in a direction that was making Miria decidedly unsettled.
"Hilda, we had no choice but to use the card." Miria checked the window again. No sign of her yet.
"I know and I'm beginning to think they know that too." A touch of suspicion had entered Hilda's voice. "It's strange that they're yet to cancel that card. As if they'll let you get away with everything."
"Once we leave the city, I'll leave it behind," Miria promised hoping that would be enough to make Hilda drop the subject. "Now that you're fine, we don't need to stay in this city anymore."
He had returned. A single pack of Marlboro cigarettes along with a lighter were placed besides the biscuits and milk. The man began adding up her purchases.
"One more night Hilda, that's all."
After tonight, Hilda could finally begin anew. Miria gave the man a nod to his offer of cash out, the Phantom whispering the amount she required before turning to the window again. Hilda's voice drew her back to the conversation.
"Why do I think you're talking about leaving behind more than just the credit card? What was the Rabona girl's name…Hysteria?"
"No, it's not." Miria inwardly winced at how quickly she had reacted to correct Hilda, the following questions confirming just how badly she'd messed up.
"She's…" Miria gripped the phone torn between revealing all that was on her mind or just the barest of details. She stepped away from the counter, her voice barely a whisper as she admitted.
"She's an agent working to bring down Staff."
"That's suicide." Hilda paused, a small gasp escaping as the information sunk in. Sometimes Miria hated just how easy it was for her friend to read her.
"Miria." Hilda spoke her name gently. "Oh, Miria you…you can't save everybody you meet. People will follow their own path. This … you can't distract her with this forever."
"If you ever met her you'd be surprised," Miria murmured, a slight smile forming as she continued. "She's gets distracted by everything. I mean any girl who crosses her line of sight. I don't know just how she survives in her profession."
"Reminds me of someone I know," Hilda teased. "Someone who relocates the people she is sent to kill and worries over the people who could potentially cause her harm. Miria, you have to admit you're a terrible assassin."
"That's why I'll be happy to leave it all behind."
The call from the counter for payment drew her attention, Miria returning to find her purchases already packed within a bag.
"We're sticking to the plan then?" Hilda asked waiting for the affirmative. "Whatever happens, Miria, just make it back safe."
Hilda ended the call upon hearing Miria's reply while the assassin finally giving her full attention to the counter assistant, searched within her pocket for the payment. Miria swiped the credit card before imputing Galatea's pin. Really when she had first tried the combination she had expected the card to bounce. For surely, the numbers of the security lock on her phone couldn't be identical to those for her pin. A long list of purchases later, Miria had come to the conclusion that they were, the assassin just wishing that certain details of her assignment had been just as truthful. The Phantom looked towards the entrance of the hotel a final time before exiting the convenience store and making her escape.
Four Weeks Earlier
The art of touch typing was a skill Dietrich couldn't help but curse at acquiring. Her fingers rapidly tapped upon the keyboard as she flawlessly narrowed down the location of the current assignment, while her eyes that should have remained upon the screen strayed towards her gathered comrades. The art of selective indifference was a far more useful skill, she noted slightly envious as she took in the appearance of their number three. Galatea leisurely leaned back in her chair as she chatted away on the phone to the Phantom completely ignorant of the growing tension across from her.
Maybe it was a defence mechanism the hacker reasoned as the fourth and final occupants of the room were just as unperturbed. Teresa had hardly glanced up from the notes she was scribbling. The rhythm of her pen only pausing as the number one Ghost entered some figures into the calculator by her side. As for Elizabeth, her gaze remained fixated upon the large image board that took up the majority of the wall of their conference room. Sprinkled with pictures of the various tangled strands that formed the web and overall heart of Staff's operations, Dietrich knew that her comrade was looking beyond the organisation's hierarchy and was far more focused on the edges of the unknown.
For to the side of the board, its influence on and connection to Staff unknown, was the photo of the one whom Elizabeth had spent the last week trying and failing to track down. The wildcard who, if given the chance would happily wreak havoc on all their carefully laid plans. For chaos and vanishing acts were two things that Roxanne excelled at and Dietrich was willing to bet that even with the assembled heads of Staff involved, the Chameleon would prove a far greater threat. But that was the danger of their profession, the hacker mused, a profession in which dangers could come from any direction and in any form. Dietrich jumped in her seat as her boss's coffee cup was forcefully reunited with its saucer.
"Would you stop flirting and get to the matter at hand, God Eye."
Irene's outburst had brought the simmering tension to the full boil. She had practically growled out her order, the tone enough to finally draw the attention of Galatea only for the agent to shoot the boss a chastising look at having interrupted her in such a manner and just when the conversation was heading in a more favourable direction. Irene countering her agent's disappointment with a look that would cut through steel, the added gesture with her fingers making it very clear that it would be wise for God Eye to start asking the Phantom more pertinent questions.
But warnings were just one of the many things Galatea was especially good at ignoring so the agent carried on undaunted as if the conversation had never been interrupted. Her next comment aimed at reminding the Phantom of the rather memorable moment in a certain kitchen, brought the beginnings of a faint smile to Teresa's face as if the number one Ghost had just recalled something incredibly amusing.
For Phantom Miria was currently unaware that the entire phone conversation she was sharing with Galatea was currently being broadcast for all within the conference room to hear. And with a front row insight into the dynamics of what was turning out to be a very complex relationship between her agent and a still untrustworthy assassin, Irene was beginning to regret her request for God Eye to put the call on speaker.
"So is she safe? The boss wants to know."
Remarkably, God Eye brought the conversation back to the most pressing matter at hand. Irene blinked in surprise as her thoughts now turned to places where they had no business to be as the possibilities of just what had happened between God Eye and the Phantom that had Teresa so terribly amused were suddenly endless and probably highly unsavoury.
"Mission accomplished. Hilda's safe." Phantom Miria's voice resounded loud and clear through the room's newly upgraded speaker system.
With her duty to the boss fulfilled, Galatea was now free to derail the conversation and the further it continued, the clearer it became to Irene that this was one mission debrief in which she was regretting hearing the details at first hand. For Irene really didn't want to know the questionable methods that Galatea employed in order to gain the Phantom's trust.
The assassin's voice sounded again over the speakers, the Phantom having taken offence to something the agent had said and a look confirmed that Galatea was delighted with the hostile reaction. The mere prospect of watching Agent God Eye further endear herself to the Phantom was now the sole cause of the headache that announced itself with a vengeance, Irene cradling her now aching forehead in her hands.
A faint beep sounded from the monitor behind her, the boss truly thankful for the distraction as she gave her chair a very restrained twirl, her gaze now level with Dietrich. The hacker tapped upon the screen to enlarge the blinking location of the phone as the beep had announced the completion of the trace. Although sometimes, Irene lamented as she recognised the very familiar location, blessings were curses in disguise.
Taking deep breaths as she called upon the teachings from that mediation seminar she had attended last month, Irene slowly swung her chair in the direction of her agent just in time to catch the start of what could only be a suggestive comment from God Eye. Why, Irene silently despaired as she rose from her chair and made her way over to her distracted agent.
Why couldn't that damn woman learn that mission debriefs were not the time nor the conference room the place for such activities. Although to her credit, Galatea caught on surprisingly quickly and ended the call with a quick goodbye as Irene, inches from her face hissed the following words.
"What the hell is the Phantom doing in your flat?"
"Well…," Galatea sought to explain herself as diplomatically as possible, the now guilty looking agent finding it difficult to remain focused with Irene so close.
"Would you like me to call Miria again so you can ask her?"
Taking Irene's sharply inhaled breath to be an agreement to her suggestion, Galatea gave the phone in her hand a small twirl before presenting it to the boss who made no move to claim it. Shrugging at the lack of a response, she slipped the phone into the front pocket of the blouse Irene wore and with a longer pat than was necessary to confirm it was secure, God Eye tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Irene's pointy ear to allow her to whisper unhindered.
"I'm sure it won't be too difficult. After all I'm quite certain you've got my number on speed dial."
A slight tap to the phone in Irene's pocket emphasised her point. Galatea headed for the door, her hand reaching for the doorknob only to stop upon hearing her boss's inquiry.
"Are you late to your rendezvous with the Phantom?"
Slipping both her hands into the pockets of her stolen security jacket, God Eye turned to face her boss, a smirk upon her face.
"I do have to go home eventually," she murmured. "But if you're offering your own place as an alternative then I could possibly reconsider."
"This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Irene ground out through gritted teeth. "Do you know what you've done?"
"No, but I have a feeling I'm about to find out."
"You've just removed the only guarantee of the Phantom's help," Irene informed her. "Getting the niece of Ermita out of Staff was the only condition she would agree to."
Storming over to the board, Irene ripped the photo of the now ruined safe house from its place and threw it down the table towards Galatea.
"I gave you two specific missions. The most important was to shadow the Phantom, not to be manipulated into endangering everything on the oft chance it will finally allow you to jump into bed with her."
"You have cost us quite a bit of leverage, Gala." Teresa spoke up, her gaze flickering from their fuming boss to God Eye as she assessed the possibility of things turning even more heated.
"Not to mention, Gala, I'm still shocked." Teresa's tone had changed to one of hurt, the number one placing a hand dramatically over her heart.
"Shocked that you didn't inform me the Phantom has a key to our place."
"I never authorised your request to help the Phantom," Irene pointedly reminded them, her patience now paper thin as she sent a glare in Teresa's direction not at all appreciating the interruption.
"Not only did the two of you ignore my orders and carry out your own mission, you've more than proven yourselves capable of indiscretions that severely impact upon the outcomes of ongoing missions."
"Impact the outcomes of ongoing missions?" Galatea shot back. "Perhaps if you had given me all the information I needed I would have acted more accordingly."
"Do you really think that I assigned you to secure her trust just for her skills?" Irene's glare was now firmly targeting Galatea.
"The only reason I allowed you anywhere near the Phantom was to extract the location of Operation Claymore. That electronic pad you secured was useless. Apart from the photo, we know nothing and if you had done your job I would have informed you of just why it was so damn important!"
"Miria, knows about Operation Claymore?" Galatea asked softly. Irene scoffed at her agent's response.
"The Phantom is our only link to finding out just what the hell it's all about. So, you better damn well hope you made an impression.
"I wouldn't worry too much, Irene." Galatea's smirk had lost all traces of its usual smugness.
"For despite getting exactly what she wanted Miria is still sticking to the rendezvous we discussed. She's still got my phone which she knows we can damn well track but that's the thing about her that's so incredibly easy to exploit. She trusts me because somewhere in between capturing Orsay and allowing her to rescue Hilda I might have impressed her, which makes my current assignment done. Feel free to interrogate her."
"That might be a bit complicated," Dietrich interrupted, her eyes now fixed upon her monitor as she furiously typed upon the keyboard.
"I don't mean to get in the way of your conversation, but the Phantom's on the move."
"What do you mean she's on the move?" Irene demanded. She was quickly by Dietrich's side, the three other Ghosts following.
Displayed upon the monitor was the map of the district where Galatea's flat was located, the small red blinking dot identifying the phone's location. The address above it changed as the dot moved away from the building at a rapid pace.
"That wasn't part of the plan," Galatea protested as the four Ghosts turned towards her demanding an explanation.
"Dietrich," Irene commanded. "Track her and send me the location."
The boss strode towards the door issuing orders as she went.
"Teresa, you're with me. Elizabeth…Orsay should be en route. Just make sure Raftela leaves him with something to talk with. You're in charge until my return."
Yanking the door open, Irene addressed Galatea over her shoulder, refusing to spare her even a glance.
"You can consider yourself suspended and confined to base. Just sit there and don't do anything. I don't want our agents to be further exposed by your stupidity."
With a final call for Teresa to follow, Irene strode from the room, the door slamming behind her. Sensing it would be unwise to keep her waiting, Teresa gathered her things and was half way out the door when she turned back to address Galatea.
"Oh…Just a quick question about the key. Did the Phantom steal that before or after your little moment in the kitchen?"
"Don't you have a wild Irene to contend with?" Galatea reminded her. "I think I hear her screaming."
"I guess she would if I ever told her that our little Gala was lying about a certain someone." Teresa's enigmatic smile widened, the number one tapping upon her ring finger.
"Do you need help getting through that door?" Galatea snapped, her mood further soured as Teresa's provocation had made her glance quickly towards her own hand and the engagement ring that still rested upon her finger.
Elizabeth and Dietrich glanced up from the monitor as the sound of the door banging shut echoed throughout the conference room, Galatea having slammed it in Teresa's victorious face. God Eye hid the diamond channel from sight with a turn of the ring as she leant against the now closed door fighting to regain her control that Teresa had so easily shaken.
"Galatea," Elizabeth cautiously addressed her, gesturing for her to take a look at the monitor. "You might want to see this."
Pushing off the door, Galatea made her way across the room and glancing disinterestedly at the monitor, found her disinterest giving way to intrigue.
"Is that…?"
"The Phantom just headed straight into it," Elizabeth confirmed. This drew a grunt from Dietrich who was unable to share in her comrade's sudden interest as she complained.
"It's the worst place she could have gone into. The number of buildings crammed in there, not to mention the ones that aren't even listed, makes it impossible to get her exact location."
"Not if you know the territory," Galatea smirked, unintentionally leaning closer for a better view of the screen.
Confirming her train of thought, Galatea turned to Dietrich unfazed by their sudden closeness. As God Eye's hands began to trail along the hacker's suddenly stiff shoulders she whispered close to Dietrich's ear.
"Well done Dietrich, you always send me to the best of places."
Dietrich gulped as Galatea further conveyed her gratitude, the small squeeze to her shoulders disappointingly short as God Eye withdrew. The jangle of her car keys further signalled her intentions to once again disobey orders and with a brief nod in Elizabeth's direction, Galatea exited the conference room.
"Were we meant to…?" Dietrich trailed off hoping the blush she was sure had painted the entirety of her face red wouldn't be seen in the dim light from the monitor.
"Too late now." Elizabeth sounded strangely unconcerned. "You know how she gets when she's excited."
Deciding that there was no safe response to that statement, Dietrich wisely returned to her tracking.
No matter how many times she asked herself, her thoughts arrived at the same answer bringing her back to stare at the wallpaper on the stolen phone. Out of all the things for God Eye to have used it had to have been that photo. The question of just where and how God Eye obtained it had sent her running from the agent's flat and into the nearest taxi. The far more unwanted question concerning why she had waited around for God Eye's call outright ignored. Miria's gaze travelled the length of the backseat finally settling upon the still slumbering Hilda. She couldn't allow Hilda to get mixed up in this.
Her phone buzzed announcing a call, the wallpaper thankfully hidden as the screen flashed the incoming number. The assassin watched the phone fall silent as the call failed to connect. She had completely misjudged Galatea. The reasons behind those countless invasions of her personal space were now viewed in a decidedly different light. For actions once dismissed as opportunistic and a poor show of restraint on God Eye's part were actually tricks of the trade. Galatea, the agent who was constantly distracted and oh so annoyingly smug was actually capable of doing her job.
The taxi took a sharp turn, drawing her from the revelation, the driver eager to make the corner before the traffic lights turned red. Miria stared ahead, the windscreen showing the narrowing street that would lead them out of the main hotel district and towards other more isolated establishments on the outskirts of the city. As the taxi slowed to a stop and rejoined the banked up traffic, a short buzz drew Miria's attention. The mysterious caller had left God Eye a message. Call me back we need to talk, it's Renee. Was she another of God Eye's targets or just a poor unfortunate soul who actually knew her?
Shoving the phone into the pocket of her borrowed jacket, Miria turned back to take in the slowly awakening city. The early morning rush had yet to start as her driver took the second exit on the roundabout, the taxi moving away from the highway that would later lead them out of the city. Signalling their arrival they pulled over towards the curb and as the taxi came to a stop the Phantom glanced up at the establishment. The neon sign suited the name displayed, the apartment building looking glaringly out of place amongst the office buildings and warehouses that lined the street.
"It's the cheapest and the most discreet," the driver informed her, turning in her seat to spare Miria a glance.
"Its fine, thanks."
Miria withdrew the wallet she had taken from God Eye's flat and handed over the fare. Leaving the taxi and mindful of the bandaged forearm, Miria carefully supported the still unconscious Hilda as she stepped onto the sidewalk and took her first real look at the hotel. Built as a towering apartment block each room with a corresponding balcony, the hotel roof formed into four turrets that wouldn't be amiss atop a medieval castle. As the sound of the departing taxi faded away Miria helped Hilda up to the entrance where she was met with a locked door and a single intercom.
Hesitantly pressing the intercom, Miria shuffled backwards as the door swung open to reveal a faintly lit reception area. The desk was unmanned, the polished wooden surface reflecting a small glow from the terminal on the opposite wall. Tucked into the corner was a single door. The Phantom approached it with trepidation and found it locked. Abandoning it, Miria moved over to examine the terminal and noted for the first time the sheet of instructions taped to the screen. Just as the instructions foretold, the monitor lit up with a single tap. The screen splitting into several options each picture showing the inside of the respective rooms they advertised.
The images were coloured around the edges, green for vacancies and red for occupied. The prices for the individual rooms were found in the bottom right hand corner. Upon selection, the nearby booth would deposit the key via a slot similar in design to that of a chute dispensing drinks from a vending machine. A card would also be issued that would allow entrance past the electronically locked door and the rooms beyond. The same booth served as a payment machine effectively locking the patron in the foyer until the bill had been settled.
With no other choice available, Miria searched for the cheapest room. She soon discovered that a double tap upon the image enlarged it giving a far better look at the prospective room. Tapping upon the picture of the eighth room, Miria paused. Surely that couldn't be right. Returning to the selection page, the assassin checked the seventh room for clarification and the sixth just to confirm that her present issues with God Eye hadn't led to a temporary hallucination.
No, she had read those names correctly. Midnight Seduction for room number six, Sexy Spies in room number seven and the suspiciously named room number eight, Cupid's Nursery. Her confusion grew upon reading the name of room number seventeen. The simple title of The Dungeon seemed painfully innocuous amongst the far more colourful names. A touch to the screen brought up the accompanying picture. Miria quickly returned to the menu. There was no way in hell she was ordering that one.
Out of all the many possibilities of expressing one's guilt, the choice Cynthia had made correlated well within the parameters of her file. A noticeably loud sigh echoed within the cramped space, the medic yet to turn from the window she had been absentmindedly gazing from as the silver sports car thundered down the highway. Another sigh, longer this time and Raftela understood the message behind it. The interrogator's eyes flickered briefly from the road to the probable cause of Cynthia's mood. The white chef hat the medic held constantly switched from hand to hand.
"From your report, extraction of the civilians was the only possibility."
From her observations, Raftela had summed up the majority of her sessions with the medic with one word. Reassurance. And judging from Cynthia's response it was also the quickest way to get her to talk. With all the sighing the medic had indulged in since entering the car, Raftela knew that it would be a missed opportunity to wait until their weekly sessions before assessing the latest emotional damage.
"Her whole life's gone," Cynthia murmured, her gaze still trained upon the scenery that flashed by the window.
The identity of the person in question was given away by the sudden grip upon the hat in the medic's hand and even without that glaring clue, Raftela would have known just who Cynthia was talking about. After all, it was her duty to keep well informed of newly acquired weaknesses within her comrades.
"If I hadn't walked into that Teppanyaki place, if we hadn't of chosen to meet there…They had to leave everything behind."
Judging from Cynthia's current state of mind, the aftermath of Hotel Pieta was turning out to be more serious than the interrogator's simple observations had so far revealed.
"They'll adapt," Raftela assured her. "People are remarkably good at that."
"They shouldn't have to be," Cynthia insisted turning from the window. "We should have been more careful."
"Even with the most carefully laid plans there are always civilians who manage to stumble straight through them," Raftela reminded her.
Cynthia groaned in response although she was unable to stop the smile that made its way to her bruised lips. The interrogator turned her attention back to the road, a quick double check of the mirrors informing her that further findings would have to wait. Raftela changed lanes, the two cars behind her following her move. The interrogator pressed gently down upon the accelerator, the cars responding to the change.
"I just never thought that one day I'd end up having to make that choice," Cynthia admitted, her hand picking at the inner stitching of the chef hat.
"How does Galatea do it? Just forget everyone she ever meets."
"I'm still in the process of trying to figure that out," Raftela confided, her alarm growing as a motorbike was now level with the suspicious cars.
Increasing her speed, Raftela's grip tightened upon the wheel as she began to weave in and out between cars, the three vehicles still there in her rear view mirror. Switching lanes and cutting in front of an approaching car, she ignored the beeping from the horn as a quick glance back confirmed that the motorbike had broken away from the group to stay in contact. Cynthia picked up on the change of situation as Raftela sped past their usual exit from the highway.
"We've got tails, three of them."
"They look suspicious enough to be Staff," Cynthia agreed before flicking open the glove box and removing the single Glock.
"It's a good thing we changed cars. Teresa's always bound to have at least one gun in the box."
Cynthia pressed the small button upon her arm rest. The tinted window began sliding open as Raftela took a sharp turn down the exit that announced the beginning of the currently deserted road that would take them to the waterfront on the outskirts of the city. With a nod, the medic leaned out gun in hand and as their tails followed down the exit Cynthia fired. She quickly ducked back upon emptying the magazine.
"How do you think they found us?" Cynthia asked, her hand searching within the glove box for a reload.
"I don't know…Orsay?" Raftela reasoned as she swung the car into the opposite lane to avoid the wild shots from behind.
"I can't believe we forgot about that."
Cynthia muttered and sliding the magazine into place she took advantage of the lull in fire to unleash her second volley before being pulled back inside as Raftela tugged upon her shirt.
"Take the wheel."
"Pardon?"
"Take the wheel and keep her steady," Raftela instructed in a tone Cynthia knew only too well.
"Oh no!" The medic hoped she was wrong. "You can't be thinking about doing the surgery now."
Her hopes were dashed as her comrade unbuckled her seatbelt one hand still upon the wheel. With a sigh, Cynthia followed, awkwardly climbing over the gear shift and into the interrogator's lap. As the medic gripped the wheel, her foot replacing Raftela's upon the accelerator, the interrogator clambered out from under her and tumbled into the backseat with far more grace than such a manoeuvre should have been capable of.
The switch had allowed Staff to gain on them leaving Cynthia with little choice but to nick the red of the speedometer. The car swung back into the correct lane as a headlight rounded the corner. Meanwhile, Raftela had found the release to the backseats and pulling them down revealed the interior of the car's boot and the main reason for the chase. Tied securely, a gag over his mouth and looking livid was one of the heads of Staff, Orsay. Just as the car veered wildly to the left, Raftela ripped off the temporary gag. The foul mouthed tirade was ignored for there were far more pressing matters that needed her attention. She sweetly inquired.
"Is it still standard Staff procedure for your tracker to be placed in your left forearm?"
Orsay looked up at her confused before his lips formed into a snarl.
"I don't know who the hell you are but if you think you can…"
The threat was cut off, Orsay and Raftela slamming into the side of the boot as Cynthia dangerously overtook the car in front of them. Steadying herself, Raftela slipped her hand into the inner pocket of her jacket and removed a small bundle. Its appearance seemed to change the interrogator, her balance unfazed despite Cynthia taking out one of the side mirrors as she entered a tunnel with Staff close behind.
"I'll give you two choices," Raftela intoned as she drew back the cloth that concealed the contents of the bundle. A row of polished surgical instruments, the scalpels sharpened to perfection glinted in the available light.
"One, which is affirmative, gets you anaesthetic," Raftela continued. A snap followed as the interrogator finished slipping on her surgical gloves.
"Two, which is negative, means I get to improvise," Raftela informed him. Her nimble fingers reaching for a blade removed it from its pouch.
"Although, despite whichever one you chose, understand that I will be getting that tracker out. I'm only going to give you one more chance. Does Staff still favour the left forearm?"
The blade now within her hand edged closer, Orsay's eyes widening in fright.
"It's the left. You damn crazy woman, the left!"
His eyes squeezed shut. Orsay prayed that the sight of the still moving knife wasn't going to be the last thing he saw but his quest for happier thoughts was rudely interrupted as the scalpel, cutting through rope, freed his left arm. Raftela yanked it forward, securing it with the nearby seatbelt. The arm now outstretched, the interrogator scanned the area quickly before deciding the best way to extract the tracker. Orsay's eyes opened just as she made her decision, the Staff member angrily reminding her of her promise.
"Oh, I remember you did choose the affirmative didn't you?"
Orsay was unconscious in the mere moments it took for Raftela's fist to dispense the promised local anaesthetic.
It was somewhat ironic, Elizabeth thought, that a single rule designed to uphold the moral values concerning her former profession should have robbed them of a valuable partner, for there was no doubt in the ex-detective's mind that Galatea would have made an excellent addition to the colleagues of her former gloomy precinct. But then an agent was close enough to being a detective and a profession that didn't seem to require one to have a clean criminal record. Still it was a shame, for the gift of instinct seemed to be one that was rarely handed out these days.
Elizabeth reached forward to awkwardly pat the hacker's shoulder. Dietrich oblivious, stared dumbfounded at the screen, the headset connecting her to Galatea hanging limply in her hand. The red dot had stopped. The address displayed the exact location Galatea had seconds before supplied to her. God Eye's voice sounded through the headset, the agent taking the silence as an affirmative to her suggestion.
"You would have gotten it eventually," Galatea reassured the hacker. "In that part of the city it's the only building worth knowing."
The crackling of static confirmed that God Eye had cut the connection and with the number three well on her way to securing the Phantom, Elizabeth gently extracted the headset from Dietrich's grasp. It would be best to now inform Irene that they finally had the location. Elizabeth was about to switch to the communication set linked to the boss when the base telephone let out a series of shrill rings. Passing the communication headset to Dietrich, the number five rolled her chair towards the conference table and the still ringing phone.
"I don't think any of us could have predicted the Phantom would stop at a love hotel," she told the still sulking hacker as she glanced down at the caller id.
Instructing Dietrich to inform the boss of the Phantom's location, Elizabeth answered the phone.
"Are you still on schedule?"
A sound that was unmistakably gun fire crackled over the phone, Cynthia's voice remarkably calm as she replied.
"We might be a little late…We've run into a spot of bother."
The sound of a beeping horn and the skidding of tyres cut off further words. The medic was currently too preoccupied to keep up with her side of the conversation. Elizabeth rolled her chair back to Dietrich's workspace.
"I need you to track the location of Cynthia's phone. They might have company."
Dietrich's fingers danced across the keys heeding her request, another window opening to display a map of the highway and its various exits. Narrowing down the location, Dietrich hacked the overhead traffic camera mounted at the entrance of the tunnel along the road the blinking dot had travelled.
"Three tails quickly gaining. They exited the tunnel over two minutes ago. It's definitely Staff."
"Contact the boss and tell her of the change in situation. Send Cynthia's location to my phone. I'm going to need it. We're mounting a rescue op."
Dietrich nodded and moving to send the information to Elizabeth's phone her fingers paused on the keyboard upon seeing the blinking notification that had appeared out of nowhere. A rare curse escaped the hacker upon seeing the picture.
"This isn't good," Dietrich muttered. Elizabeth joined her, the number five slipping the handgun she had just checked back into its holster.
"Oh, damn it," Elizabeth swore. "She just had to have chosen her moment now."
Dressed in the standard uniform for nursing staff, Roxanne was the perfect picture of poise as she waited in the hospital foyer for the next lift that would take her to whatever it was she was planning to steal this time.
"What the hell are you doing there?
Elizabeth couldn't help voicing her frustrations as she stared at the one she had so desperately tried to track down. Roxanne was again taunting her with the ease with which she was capable of drifting in and out of the former detective's life. Seeing the struggle upon her comrade's face, Dietrich glanced between the image and the phone still within Elizabeth's hand. And within that second, Elizabeth made her choice.
"Stay ahead of Staff. I'm on my way."
Ending the call, the number five took a final glance at the image of the Chameleon before dashing from the conference room straight towards the armoury.
Two sealed toothbrushes, two sets of pyjamas and an extensive range of body lotions and hair products were all that the bathroom cupboard contained. Miria shut the door somewhat relieved. Despite the presence of the beauty care products that held little value for her, the Phantom was relieved at the familiar appearance of the toothbrushes as a quick search of the room had shown Miria just how strange it was for there, just a few steps away was the main cause of offence.
The Phantom gingerly made her way back to the Jacuzzi. Looking inside again she verified that the painted cupids still lined the sides, their arrows at the ready. Another tired glance upwards confirmed the continuing theme, the glowing red hearts upon the ceiling earning a sigh from the Phantom. Making her way past the glass shower door that really offered no privacy at all, Miria entered the bedroom. Hilda lay upon the bed, her head comfortably resting upon the heart shaped pillows. Her bandaged forearm was carefully placed over her stomach, the scattered red rose petals that surrounded her doing little to disturb her sleep.
The assassin sat uncomfortably on the edge of the loveseat opposite as she assessed her options. Taking Hilda's current condition into consideration, she knew they couldn't get that far. Her hand unconsciously made its way to the phone inside her pocket. As she withdrew it, God Eye's wallet tumbled out onto the floor. Retrieving it and flipping it open, her fingers counted the notes inside. Money was also an issue as it was a given that Staff would have moved to freeze all her accounts.
Returning to the wallet she absentmindedly removed the first card, her head shaking in amusement upon discovering the majority of them were for clubs whose activities, although hinted at provided no further insight into the mysterious God Eye. For if there was one thing their brief time together had taught her it was that God Eye, given the opportunity, had a certain fondness for stripping. The last card now within her hand, Miria twirled it between her fingers. The surname upon it was identical to the one on the credit card, which confirmed that the name was most likely one of the agent's many covers. After all, the name Galatea was nowhere to be seen but then was that even God Eye's real name?
However, the driver's license was somewhat special, Miria thought. A rare photo and probably the only one in existence that God Eye hadn't managed to smirk her way through. Did this exchange of photos make them even then? Miria traced the edges of the phone. Why would someone as well trained as God Eye make the mistake of using such an incriminating image as her wallpaper? It was stupid really and just a tiny bit intriguing.
Hilda stirred drawing Miria away from her thoughts concerning the agent. Tucking the wallet back into her pocket, the Phantom made her way over to the bed to gingerly sit upon it. The mattress shifted under her weight reminding the assassin of her strong dislike for water beds but her musings were cut short as Hilda bolted awake letting out a scream.
"Miria!"
"Hilda!" Miria called her, grabbing Hilda's flailing arms in order to stop her from tumbling from the bed.
Her actions calmed Hilda and as her shaking hands reached out to touch the assassin's face, her wild unfocused gaze relaxed as relief overtook her.
"Miria…? You're alive," Hilda whispered drawing the assassin into a desperate embrace.
"I thought you'd be dead," Hilda continued to whisper. Miria's arms protectively encircled her upon hearing the words.
"They were going to kill you…"
Hilda stopped as Miria had taken her hand in hers to quiet her frantic state. The Phantom knelt in front of her to voice the one thing she had longed to tell her.
"I've finally gotten you out of there. It worked, Hilda. The plan worked."
"Miria," Hilda's voice cracked as she drew away. Her hand wiped away the tears that had begun to form before she cupped Miria's face, her thumb trailing along the cheek.
"It worked," she repeated, her look gentle as she further murmured. "Miria, oh you've always being reckless haven't you? I can't believe the exchange worked."
"Do you have any idea how worried I was for you when you told me you were going after Orsay?" she confessed playfully pinching Miria's cheek.
"Is that why you gave me that knife?" A rare smile formed upon the Phantom's face as she teased back before moving to retrieve the knife she had strapped to her belt, the shirt she wore hampering her movement.
Despite the discomfort, Miria had to admit her newly acquired clothing was a vast improvement over the uniform of Hotel Pieta. However, the lack of T-shirts within God Eye's closet had left her sorely disappointed. Freeing the knife from its sheath, Miria presented it with a flourish to Hilda who laughed at the action before she confessed.
"Partly the reason, although you can't think very highly of me if you thought I would pass up the opportunity to buy you an engagement gift."
"I'm actually quite glad you did otherwise Ophelia would have…" Miria trailed off her smile vanishing as she saw the dread upon Hilda's face.
"Ophelia was there?" Hilda seemed to shiver upon mentioning the name. "What happened?"
"It was fine," Miria reassured her as she scrambled to explain. "I managed to fend her off…Although she shouldn't have been at Hotel Pieta."
Voicing the nagging doubt that had been plaguing her since seeing Ophelia, Miria joined Hilda on the bed as she sheathed the knife before returning it to her belt.
"She works for Rimuto not Orsay. I don't think I've ever seen Orsay's bodyguard. It's always just been Ophelia and me as the main bodyguards. I've never met the third…"
"Pray that you never do," Hilda cut her off with a whisper, her lips trembling. "He's a monster that makes Ophelia…Wait, where's the Rabona girl?"
Hilda sprang from the bed, her eyes searching the room frantically. Miria was instantly by her side and led her back to the bed.
"Gal…The girl's safe," Miria elaborated as Hilda looked unconvinced upon hearing her falter. "She's with her father…probably being scolded."
The tense mood of moments before had disappeared as a coy smile made its way to Hilda's face. She teased back as she playfully nudged Miria.
"So, did you? You know, Miria," Hilda sighed upon seeing the confused look her companion gave her. "Did you end up going through with Staff's mission?"
"Mission?" Miria's tone matched her expression, the confusion clearing as Hilda reached for the knife at the Phantom's belt.
"That's…" Miria weakly tried to explain before she gave up and confessed. "That's…no we didn't get to the ceremony."
"I thought so," Hilda hummed as she withdrew the knife from the sheath and removed the end of the hilt to reveal its secret compartment.
Flipping the knife, two wedding bands wrapped carefully within velvet tumbled from the compartment into her hand.
"You were a nervous wreck when we bought it," Hilda reminisced. "I was sure you had a crush."
"Hilda, I don't even know her. I was just assigned to marry her…"
Even if the unwilling exchange of photos failed, their identical assignments surely left them with an even score. It was just business really between two people from opposing sides. She had Hilda and Galatea had whoever the next girl who walked by happened to be. And like the name that had been bestowed upon her it was now time for Miria to disappear from the ongoing fight between Staff, the Ghosts and whoever the hell else decided to join in. Besides, those eight kisses, or was it nine, would be more than enough to make for a memorable goodbye.
"And where do we go from here?" Hilda's question brought her back to the room, the expression upon her face making it clear that she regretted the turn in the conversation.
"We're now in this place," Hilda continued gesturing at the décor. Miria's eyes followed and looking at the love hearts covering the ceiling she let forth a sustained groan.
"When I selected it I didn't think it would be this bad."
"Cupid's Nursery? Surely this wasn't the best option," Hilda teased as she reached over for the small card by the bedside table, her action sending a twinge down her forearm.
Noticing the bandage for the first time, Hilda's smile faded as she began to frantically undo it.
"Did you remove my tracker?"
Miria nodded as the bandage came free to reveal the veins that strained against the surface of her skin. Sensing danger, the Phantom moved for her knife.
"Staff changed the tracker system." Hilda's breathing had quickened. "When you removed it, AB was injected straight into my blood. How long have I got?"
"I took the tracker out two hours ago."
Hilda took a series of deep breaths before her gaze found Miria, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"You need to get out now before I lose control."
Biting back a curse, Miria sheathed her knife and moved forward to grab Hilda's arm.
"We've done this before. You just need to suppress it until we leave the city."
"Miria, no…"
A low growl left Hilda's throat as Miria dragged her towards the door. If they could make it out of the city, she could subdue her without any civilian casualties. That thought in mind, she sprinted out of the room and down the corridor, her hand locked within Hilda's grip. Ignoring the fire escape and rushing down the stairs into the hall, she quickly swiped the card that would allow her access to the reception foyer.
Clearing the door, Miria headed for the exit where she tried the handle only for it to remain firmly shut. Damn it, the assassin cursed. The card proved useless as the door refused to open. Returning to the monitor, she scanned her options, her gaze diverting to the payment machine the cause of her problem suddenly clear. Racing towards the machine, she read the display and following the prompts selected the room number she had booked. The screen flashed.
"Are you ready to leave?"
Aware that Hilda's nails had started to dig into her palm with enough force to break the skin, Miria quickly pressed the affirmative option.
"Would you like to pay now?"
This time a brief flicker of discomfort crossed the assassin's face as a growl far more guttural than the first sounded close to her ear. Miria jabbed the affirmative button only for more information to scroll across the screen.
"You will have to pay the full amount despite having not stayed for the entire booking duration. Are you fine to proceed?"
It might have been due to the fact that the feeling in her hand had just been brutally cut off, but Miria swore that the machine seemed to stall upon receiving her affirmative as if it was well aware of the look upon her face that became more incredulous with each passing question. Thankfully, the screen displayed the amount owed and Miria, fumbling within her pocket extracted the first card she found. Luck continued to be on her side, the credit card was quickly swiped and the payment processed. The sound of Hilda's laboured breathing filled the foyer as growls that could no longer be classified as human rumbled from her throat. The screen flashed again.
"Thank you for your payment. If the room was not to your satisfaction we would be happy to re-book you into one more to your liking. Number Seventeen is now available would you like to book The Dungeon, our highly recommended bondage room?"
The innocent question would have received a far more violent response had Hilda not grown bored with crushing Miria's hand. Her nails had clawed upwards to sink into the flesh of the assassin's forearm which fact serving as a very painful reminder that time was running out, propelled the Phantom and her charge towards the exit. However, at the door Miria whirled them around back to the payment machine. Slamming her hand down upon its surface to steady them she re-read the last question. And as Hilda's eye colour turned from silver to a dangerous gold, Miria quickly confirmed her booking. The machine yielded the keys for the bondage room.
Drumming her fingers upon the arm rest, she shifted in the passenger seat, balanced her iphone on one knee and swiping her fingers across the screen revealed the address Dietrich had just texted her. Irene made a mental note to assign the hacker a new assignment upon her return to base, preferably after she had locked the Phantom in one of their secure holding cells for being such a nuisance. And she would be so sorely tempted to throw Galatea in as added company. Either way that cell had gone unoccupied for far too long. On second thoughts the Phantom's future cell mate would be a choice between God Eye and whoever the damn person was who had the nerve to steal her Mercedes. She would have to get Dietrich to solve that mystery.
"You can try starting the engine now, it's been more than five minutes," Irene commanded only for the request to be denied, her driver tapping upon her watch to prove her point.
"We've still got another minute left."
Teresa's patient tone turned a tad condescending as she continued to speak.
"I told you we shouldn't have taken the Toyota. If you had given me the chance I would have asked Gala for the keys to the Audi…"
"And you wouldn't have gotten them without a fight and quite frankly I couldn't have lasted another second in the room with that incompetent idiot."
"You know that's part of her charm," Teresa admonished. "Perhaps, we should have told her about our little secret."
"Aren't you concerned about losing the only opportunity to find out if Operation Claymore was ever completed?" Irene asked wearily.
Her gaunt face rested against the window as the tension of the recent events finally caught up with her.
"It's a project that should have never been started," Teresa murmured as she turned the key in the ignition, the engine spluttering to life.
Pulling away from the kerb, the Toyota glided forward until reaching the end of the street, the engine gave a final splutter before it cut out. Another twist of the key in the ignition brought the car back to life, the car at last making the corner. Taking the roundabout as cautiously as she could, Teresa heeded Irene's instructions to choose the second exit, entering the street at a crawl. Irene confirmed the identity of the building as Teresa began to pull over just behind a parked Audi. The boss let out a strangled cry upon seeing the vehicle and jumping from the moving car, she hit the sidewalk at a run, a stream of curses escaping her lips as she strode up the stairs leaving her agent to park the car.
"Keep the engine running. Hell knows if we'll ever get it working again if we don't!"
Irene shouted her commands as she pressed the intercom to open the door. The boss swept inside and headed straight for the only occupant within the foyer.
"Galatea! I remember saying you were confined to base until further notice."
"Irene!" Galatea had turned to greet her boss but with a well timed dodge past Irene's fist, she manoeuvred into position behind her. This tactic allowed God Eye to place a hand upon Irene's shoulder and steer her towards the monitor.
"You're a little late, but still I could do with some help."
God Eye tapped upon the screen bringing up the image of a room before quickly flicking to the image of another. Galatea looked surprisingly thoughtful.
"Would you pick two or seventeen? Judging from the occupied rooms, Miria is certain to be in one of them. I just can't decide which one is more to her liking, The Dungeon or Cordon Le Bleu. What do you think?"
Irene was saved from having to answer as the edge of the Cordon Le Bleu image turned to green. Galatea gave a small hum of approval as she whispered into her boss's ear.
"I was hoping it would be The Dungeon."
A click to their left signalled the opening of the door. Galatea's training immediately kicked in and Irene quickly found herself in a decidedly awkward situation. God Eye had pulled her into an embrace that could only be mistaken for one of the utmost intimacy. And as if to clear all remaining doubt the agent's hand came to a rest upon the back pocket of her jeans. Irene jumped as the temptation facing God Eye proved too great to resist. The two guests emerging from the corridor seemed to share her discomfort and glanced guiltily away. Whether due to having seen Galatea in action or a sense of embarrassment about being seen in a love hotel, Irene would never know as her attention was again diverted by God Eye's hand wandering towards the next pocket.
With an exchange of nods, the couple moved towards the payment machine, the younger man fumbling as he paid for the room. His partner's eyes roamed towards the two Ghosts, his gaze growing more appreciative with each passing second. A grin formed across his face just as the young man having completed the payment started to lead him towards the door. Stepping aside to allow the door to open, his grin widened as he allowed another patron through. He turned back to farewell them with an approving whistle.
"Hope you have fun, ladies."
"Sid!"
His partner's disapproval came with a slap on the arm as he dragged Sid out the door. The sound of their voices arguing, faded down the steps. Irene broke the awkward silence.
"Surely he didn't think we were…"
"No," Galatea reassured her with a smirk as she greeted Teresa who remained by the door. "I believe he thought it was all three of us."
"Aren't you aiming a bit too high Gala?" Teresa countered as she made her way towards them.
"Perhaps," Galatea admitted unable to resist giving Irene a final touch as she withdrew. "I don't fancy getting between you and your unresolved tension concerning our boss."
Her vibrating phone caused Irene to jump. She quickly answered it upon seeing the caller id while making a second mental note to raise Dietrich's pay for the hacker's most impeccable timing.
"Report."
"We've got trouble," Dietrich's voice informed her. "Staff's after Orsay. The last we heard they were travelling towards the waterfront. Agent Five is on her way to assist."
Scratch that pay rise she would probably need it to afford the rescue mission.
"There might be another problem," Dietrich reluctantly continued.
There seemed to be an endless supply of them Irene mused and closing her eyes, she began massaging her forehead as the remnants of her previous headache began to prepare for a second assault.
"The Chameleon has resurfaced." Dietrich paused, the sound of her typing heard over the phone. "Judging from the precinct chatter it seems the hospital she's targeting is where that bodyguard Agent God Eye fought was admitted this morning."
"Track her movements. Hopefully she'll lead us to who she's working for," Irene instructed. "Send Agent Five's location to Number One's phone. Agent God Eye and I will return as soon as we secure the Phantom."
Ending the call Irene turned to address her two agents.
"Teresa, I need you to head to that location. Somehow, Staff has managed to track Orsay. I don't want to lose him after the trouble we've gone through to get him. Take Galatea's car, you need to get there as fast as you can."
Irene dismissed Galatea's objection before it was voiced, the glare she gave her agent sending God Eye reluctantly reaching for her car keys. Removing them, Galatea stalled but surrendered them to Teresa after a growl from Irene. The number one and number three shared a look as the keys passed between them, a pained expression crossing God Eye's features.
"You do know I'm still paying for that Audi."
"Of course," Teresa murmured giving her a wink as she made for the door. "I know everything about you Gala darling."
Staring at the door Teresa had vanished through, Galatea was drawn back to the current mission by the sounds of Irene attempting to demolish the locked door. Regarding the room selection, a thoughtful look upon her face, Galatea confirmed the red edged image of room number seventeen. Well, it seemed as if she had something in common with Miria after all. Her gaze caught the image of the room above The Dungeon.
"Oh, that's new."
Tapping her foot to the bouncy show tune that filled the lift, Roxanne hummed along as she watched the floor numbers light up in turn. The name on everybody's lips is gonna be ….With a loud ding, the lift announced its arrival at the fourth floor. The doors slid open for the Chameleon to step out into the corridor and continue her way unchallenged towards the entrance of the nearby ward. A quick presentation of her id allowed her entry, the automated doors swinging open to admit her.
Strolling past the nurse's station Roxanne glanced down at the number scrawled messily upon her hand. Room twenty one. The Chameleon's keen eyes spotted the number and without breaking her stride she casually swiped the nearest patient folder. By the time Roxanne had reached the end of the corridor, she had acquired a pen, tourniquet, gloves and the closest machine which she casually wheeled into the private room. Two guards immediately confronted her, their hands, resting upon their respective holsters relaxed as they noticed her uniform.
Giving them both a well practiced smile, Roxanne turned towards the machine. If there was one thing about her job that she took great pride in, it was her attention to detail. Taking the cuff from its basket, she approached the bedside while turning to offer another smile in the guards' direction.
"I'm just going to take the patient's vital signs," she gestured towards the cuff. "Blood pressure, temperature, O2 saturation, all those kinds of things."
The one she guessed was the more senior nodded and stepped away from the bed, her partner following. Roxanne couldn't help but grow even fonder of those who wore the uniform. The number of times a guard's need to follow orders had helped her in her endeavours was endless, although perhaps it was time she stopped referring to the two in front of her as guards. The rather cliché duster coat and fedora gave away their true profession. But then to deny her affection towards detectives would be outright lying.
With the very presence of the detectives, Roxanne knew that she had found her prize. The thief's attention was drawn for the first time towards the patient who occupied the bed. Wincing in sympathy at the ugly bruise that formed over the face of the still slumbering form, Roxanne gently wound the cuff around the patient's arm aware that the two guards watched her every move. And if there was one thing she loved, it was playing the part. The Chameleon checked the readings on the blood pressure machine.
Satisfied, Roxanne withdrew a plastic case flipping it open to reveal a small syringe. And just as she predicted the detectives at once questioned her.
"The cannula needs to be flushed with saline," Roxanne explained. "As she's yet to awaken we have to ensure reliable access to provide fluids by intravenous means."
The explanation seemed to satisfy them. The younger detective who seemed far more prone to reaching for her gun dropped her hand away from her holster. Her movement allowed the coat to fall back into place obscuring the weapon from sight. Roxanne suppressed a smile upon seeing the tell tale glint of the silver badge clipped upon the detective's belt. The 99th precinct must have some curse over it for its detectives seemed to always stumble into her plans one way or another. Whether the two in front of her lived up to their predecessor would be the unexpected highlight of her current heist.
And ever the perfectionist in her different roles, she attached the syringe to the cannula while conversing with the detectives. The final stage of the heist was falling into place.
"She was as white as a ghost when…"
Really, she hated working for Ermita. The stupid man more often than not forgot to inform her just how prone to violence her prizes truly were. The arm she had just injected suddenly swung upwards and narrowly missed a collision with her face. Silver eyes flickered open. The arm that had missed its target quickly latched onto her uniform and yanked her down to face her now very awake prize.
At least the guards were quick to react. However, the fedora wearing detective took a direct hit to the face from the television remote the patient flung across the bed. As she staggered backwards, the patient wrapped the small cord connecting the remote to the wall around her victim's defensively raised arm. With a single tug, the detective was pulled before her tormentor who now had grabbed her around the head. The grip tightened over the well fitted fedora, before its owner was sent smashing face first into the bedside rail.
One detective down, her unconscious body falling to the floor, her partner raced to free Roxanne from further danger. The Chameleon now revealed her true intentions and snatched the handcuffs from the detective's belt. Snapping a cuff around their owner's wrist, the Chameleon secured the other to the bed rail. And taking note of her prize's finishing move, she took the legs out from under her opponent and sent her tumbling into the bedside rail where the impact knocked her unconscious.
"My information proved correct. I wasn't entirely sure you'd respond to the cue."
Roxanne at last greeted the patient whose gaze followed the detective's slump to the floor. Her expression, one of mild interest.
"How's the head?" Roxanne further inquired. "You seem intact so I'm guessing there is no pain of the phantom kind."
The grip on her uniform that had remained firm throughout the dispatch of the two detectives tightened as the patient glanced down at her id.
"You seem to know an awful lot of cues. I take it you're not a nurse."
"You could say I'm in charge of patient transfers. Although just to make sure I've got the right one, is your name Ophelia by any chance?"
"What?" Ophelia sounded pleasantly surprised. "They didn't provide you with a picture?"
"I was told I'd know her on sight," Roxanne admitted indicating Ophelia's injuries with a sight tilt of the head. "That's a very impressive bruise."
"And you're a very interesting person."
Ophelia released her grip and shoving the Chameleon backwards she vaulted over the bedside rail before she paused in her pursuit to take a look around the room. In a single move, Ophelia slammed Roxanne against the bed side cabinet, her hand reaching to toy with the name tag upon the uniform.
"I could do with your name now that we're on a first name basis."
Ophelia's justification was followed by a quick move. Her hand ripped the blood pressure cuff from her arm as she now planned to use it to choke her opponent. But the Chameleon had anticipated her intentions and easily slipped from Ophelia's grasp, their positions now reversed as Roxanne slammed her opponent against the wall opposite the cabinet.
"Perhaps we could get further acquainted once that sal…sorry, drug wears off," Roxanne sweetly informed her.
The Chameleon darted backwards as her opponent's elbow came dangerously close to hitting her chin. Now thoroughly amused, Ophelia stared her down, her eyes flickering to take in the still embedded cannula in her arm.
"My, my…" Ophelia looked briefly impressed as she surveyed the attached empty syringe. "You're making quite the first impression, aren't you?"
The tranquilizer took effect shortly afterwards and Roxanne moved forward to catch the falling Ophelia before gently guiding her to the floor. Looking around the room, the Chameleon acknowledged the heist was far from over and sighing as she ran her hand through one of her curls, she thought she might just have to give into temptation and steal one of those wheelchairs.
Though having frequently travelled the very same coastal road they were now speeding down, Cynthia had to admit she had never before noticed just how many tricky turns needed to be navigated. The upcoming sign warned about the end of the relatively flat straight part of the road, signalling hairpin bends and a steady climb for the next five kilometres. The sound of gunfire rang out. Cynthia glanced in the rear view mirror and seeing that Staff was gaining, she gripping the wheel tighter as they sped past the sign.
"Raftela," the medic warned.
"Almost there." Raftela's gaze remained fixed upon the open wound she had cut in Orsay's forearm.
The self retaining retractor she had inserted kept the edges of the wound apart and allowed Raftela to work unhindered under the car's interior light. The interrogator's forceps closed around the small tracker as she began the delicate extraction.
"Upcoming hairpin bends," Cynthia elaborated. "Raftela…"
"Wait…" Her comrade murmured, the forceps steady as she continued to gently work the tracker out.
"I really need to turn!"
"Almost there…" Raftela paused as the tracker met resistance. She moved the forceps gently back and forth to free it.
"Raftela!" Cynthia shouted as the first bend rapidly approached.
"Turn…now." The tracker came free as the medic slammed on the brakes. Raftela tumbled forward into the backseat, the prize securely held within her forceps.
With a screech from the tyres Cynthia took the turn, the sound of gunfire right behind them. Coming out of the bend, she swung the steering wheel driving them into the middle of the two way lane to avoid the hail of bullets. Dropping the extracted tracker into the drinks holder, Raftela leaned over the handbrake to rummage through the open glove box. After failing to find any suitable substitute for the item she needed, she noticed the chef hat along with the Glock that Cynthia had left on the passenger seat.
"What are you doing?" Cynthia asked in alarm as the chef hat caught on the handbrake. At the same instant the sound of gunfire resumed.
As Raftela yanked on the hat Cynthia pulled it free and none too gently pitched it into the backseat. Evading the bullets, the car screamed around the next hairpin bend. Grabbing her forceps, Raftela turned the chef hat inside out and began to unpick the inner stitching. Rounding another bend, Cynthia's gaze flickered towards the remaining side mirror to check the pursuers. She glanced briefly at the empty passenger seat. The confusion of just what had snagged the handbrake cleared as she further confirmed her suspicions with a quick glance towards the backseat.
"What do you think you're doing with my hat?" Cynthia demanded but Raftela's response was lost as the next turn was upon them.
With seconds to spare, Cynthia manoeuvred the car, the tyres screeching in protest. But she had cut it too finely and the passenger side scraped the guard rail. As the medic fought to keep the car under control, her attempts sent the chef hat tumbling from Raftela's grasp, the cotton she had managed to unpick still within her hands. Breaking from the rail and further upsetting Raftela who was just about to thread her needle, Cynthia stomped upon the accelerator and thundered onwards. Rounding the final bend with safety as a low priority, she cleared the series of turns as Raftela threaded the needle at last and moved to make the first suture upon Orsay's wound.
"Keep her steady," she ordered. The first stitch complete, the interrogator began working her way along the wound.
"That might be a bit difficult." Cynthia gritted her teeth as Staff, celebrating their mutual survival through the navigational difficulty they had just left behind, resumed firing upon them.
The remaining mirror shattered as a bullet hit its mark. One of the cars following had broken formation and was accelerating towards them. As the car drew level, the tinted window slid down, sure signs that the gunman onboard was about to fire.
"We've got company." Cynthia sped up, Staff matching her speed.
Reaching for the Glock on the front seat Cynthia picked it up and tossed it back to Raftela. Temporarily abandoning her stitching, Raftela picked up the gun and as the tinted window slid down offering her a view of Staff's gunner she fired, sending them into retreat. The Staff car smashed into the side of their silver sports car, trapping the Ghosts between their car and the guard rail. Vying against each other as they fought to push the other away, the two cars sped onwards. Glass shattered as the Staff backup car with flanking motorbike for further support, came forward and shot out the Ghost's back window.
The incoming roar of an engine reached them, a vehicle in the opposite lane rounding the corner, Elizabeth having arrived on the scene. From her position on her motorbike, automatic sawn-off shotgun in hand, she fired two rounds before speeding past the duelling cars, her shots hitting Staff's tyres. Gliding her bike between the two groups, Elizabeth aimed the shotgun at the following two vehicles. Her shots deterred the gunner in the car but put her on a direct collision course with the oncoming motorbike. Throwing the shotgun at the approaching bike sent it into a wild swerve as Elizabeth purposely swung into the path of the oncoming car which slammed on its brakes. The Ghost leapt from her bike just as it collided with the front of the car sending both vehicles crashing into the railing.
But then sometimes things don't go the way you plan for Elizabeth had misjudged the jump and the pain that shot through her body informed her that the tumble had cost her, probably a couple of broken ribs, judging from how much it hurt to breathe. The faint sound of an engine pushed the pain to the back of her mind. Two out of three wasn't all that bad but Elizabeth liked a perfect score and out of all the ways to die, getting run over by a biker wasn't on the list, besides, she'd already faked one death to get away from this organisation. Elizabeth ignored the pain as she reached for her handgun. What a damn morbid thought to send her on her way, Elizabeth mused as she drew back the safety. The number five raised her head from the ground as the sound of the approaching engine drew closer. As the oncoming lights blinded her, Elizabeth fired wildly and instinctively rolled out of the way.
The motorbike, still on course to run her down swerved quickly to the side as the high revving scream of another engine announced the presence of the incoming Audi. The car screeched around Elizabeth as the driver threw open a door just as the motorbike swerved before crashing headlong into the sudden obstacle. Elizabeth rolled behind the Audi as the motorbike and its rider taking out the door, crashed into a heap a short distance away. Teresa leant out to regard her through the missing car door.
"Well, aren't you going to get in?"
In hindsight, Raftela was beginning to appreciate the wayward attitude of the Ghosts she kept company with. The interrogator loaded the clip she had just found in the secret compartment under the backseat. Firing at the car that trapped them against the railing, she ducked behind the seats as Staff returned the favour. Really, if Galatea and Teresa hadn't decided to aid the Phantom in her quest and take her car, then their current pursuers would have been victorious, for she knew that her own car didn't have a seemingly endless supply of ammunition.
From Raftela's crouched position on the floor, yet another of Teresa's hiding places was revealed. She snatched the clip from its pouch strapped under the passenger seat and reloaded her empty Glock. Whether Teresa's hidden supplies lasted would be the question which decided their survival, the interrogator noted as she raised her weapon to fire again. The Staff car suddenly veered away as the leaking pressure from the shot tyres started to take effect. Cynthia stomped on the accelerator at this first sign of trouble and the silver sports shot past the now failing Staff car.
Peeking over the backseats, Raftela was just in time to see the shot tyre give way as the tread shredded causing the car to spin out of control and smash into the guard rail, well and truly out of the chase. Returning to Orsay's slumped body, Raftela examined her hasty stitching for the first time. Considering that she had performed the surgery under fire and at the mercy of Cynthia's decidedly dangerous driving it was somewhat miraculous that the stitches were lined up perfectly. Well, crooked from where she had started to where she had finished if she was truthful about it.
Provided the rest of the journey continued in a far more peaceful manner, Raftela was sure that the last snitches would be far neater. The interrogator was about to complete the final set to close the wound when she noticed the cut was noticeably shorter than the incision she had made upon the arm. Looking at the cut again, it seemed to shrink before her very eyes. A closer inspection revealed that the wound was beginning to heal right in front of her.
Yanking the stitches out, Raftela watched as the incision she had made closed under her fingers, the makeshift stitches falling to the floor as she stared at the unblemished skin in front of her. Quickly checking both of Orsay's arms for puncture marks and finding none, she scrambled forward leaning over the driver's seat to grab the tracker.
"Cynthia!" Raftela warned as Orsay began to stir behind her. "He's been injected with…"
Orsay struck, cutting off the interrogator as he sat bolt upright, his fingers closing around her throat and slamming her against the headrest. The action forced Cynthia forward as the car lurched into the opposite lane. The medic managed to pull them back into the right lane just as the headlights of an approaching vehicle appeared in the distance. Raftela struggled against Orsay, the drug that had been injected into his system via the removal of the tracker granting him enhanced strength. He had broken the ropes that had bound his hands and feet and Raftela was unable to pry his hands from her throat.
The opposite lane now empty, Cynthia threw the car into a series of zigzags dislodging her passengers' balance and sent the two tumbling onto the backseat. Raftela's hands desperately searched for the fallen Glock. Closing her hand around it, the interrogator smashed it into the side of Orsay's head to release his deadly hold. Orsay, lost within the effects of the drug, launched forward to sink his teeth into Raftela's hand. A grunt of pain escaping the interrogator's lips as his teeth sank further into her flesh, turned to a scream of pain as he torn free. The gun fell from Raftela's grip and onto the passenger seat as she cradled her injured hand. Two of her fingers had been bitten clean off.
Within the rear view mirror of the sports car, the image of the deserted road was shattered as Orsay let out a low growl, his eyes changing to a gold that under the drug's influence signalled the surrendering of the little humanity he still possessed. Cynthia's hands froze upon the wheel. She slammed on the brakes as the memory of that familiar gold paralysed her. The tyres of the car screeched off the road and smashed into the railing just as the Audi reached them. Teresa hit the brakes just in time to avoid crashing into the back of the now ruined sports car.
Stepping out unfazed via her missing car door, Teresa watched Orsay freeing himself from the wreck and dragging the unconscious body of Cynthia behind him. The medic was thrown aside as Orsay charged the Audi before Teresa ducked back through the missing door. The drug fuelled Orsay lunged for her, his teeth sinking into a silver object Teresa had raised in self defence. With the beast now distracted and gnawing on the retractable car key she held in her hand, Teresa pressed the boot release on the remote unit. Elizabeth scrambled into the back of the car and despite the pain from her ribs she released the back seats. As Orsay yanked the keys from Teresa's grip, the number five escaped through the boot.
Teresa herself, after ramming Orsay's head into the steering wheel darted for the backseat but Orsay, quickly recovering from the collision grabbed her trailing foot. Kicking off her shoe, she dived into the boot and emerged smiling to offer a wave before slamming it shut. Orsay who followed knocked himself unconscious as he smashed right into the sudden obstacle. A shoe down, Teresa hobbled around the car, entered through the missing door and climbing into the backseat, closely observed the unconscious Orsay.
She shoved his feet aside and repositioned the backseats locking him once again within the confines of a car boot. Before she climbed out of the car she paused to retrieve the key Orsay had finished gnawing and finding her shoe, slipped it on. She turned to regard her fellow Ghost.
"Well," she said dusting off her hands as she leant against the side of the car. "What's next?"
Confirming her booking for the room above the dungeon, Galatea unlocked the access door with the provided card and allowed the boss to stride ahead. The two agents then came upon their next obstacle. The door of room number seventeen loomed in front of them. Nudging Irene aside, Galatea withdrew the credit card she had taken the opportunity to steal from her boss's back pocket and began to work on the lock.
Inserting the plastic between the frame and the door, God Eye moved the card up and down, attempting to draw back the lock while an impatient Irene sniped at her.
"That will never work."
"You might be right. I don't think your card's as good as mine."
"Is that my credit card? When…where did you get that?"
"From your pocket." Galatea reinserted the card to try the lock again as she continued in an offended tone. "Did you really think I was just taking advantage of you, Irene? I'm shocked you think so poorly of me."
The lock clicked back, the door opening a fraction. A triumphant God Eye turned to face Irene.
"I knew they hadn't changed the locks…"
Snatching her card back and clearly not in the mood for further conversation, Irene kicked the door wide open. All subtlety gained was lost as, gun in hand, the boss stormed into a flurry of feathers. A room in disarray greeted them. Bed clothes, torn into strips lay scattered around the room. The matching feather pillows were ripped to shreds, their contents floating in the air. Upturned, its glass top shattered by the chair that had been smashed through it were the remains of the coffee table. The chair's missing leg had somehow managed to find its way through the mirror. The broken glass was scattered over the replica suit of armour that had once stood by the leather couch and now lay in pieces upon it.
Galatea let out an approving whistle, Irene quickly double checking the address that the tracker had supplied. Signalling that she would take the bathroom, Irene left Galatea a spare handgun before entering the room. Galatea followed Irene, noting that the bed head had several missing and shattered wooden slats.
"It must have been a hell of reunion Miria," Galatea whispered as she searched the bedside table to confirm her observation.
Intrigued, she turned her attention towards the centrepiece of the room. A small dungeon took up the majority of the back wall. God Eye strolled over to examine its red bars, giving the gun within her hand a twirl as she holstered it. The dungeon door swung back without a sound as Galatea approached the package that had been left for her upon the single chair. And there, perched atop a familiar wallet was the source that had led them to the hotel, Miria's picture staring back at her upon a single touch of the screen.
"The bathroom's empty." Irene had re-entered the room, Galatea meeting her at the open dungeon door to show her the iphone.
"Damn it," Irene hissed, her hand gripping the bars in frustration as she took the phone, flicked through the call log and found nothing of use.
Galatea meanwhile searched her wallet to assess the damage. The money was gone Miria having helped herself, Galatea's fingers, checking her cards paused upon finding one missing. It was now coming to her attention that a number of her possessions were finding their way into Miria's quick hands at an alarmingly regular rate. Her credit card being the latest to fall victim to the trend.
"Would you care to explain this?" Irene voiced aloud Galatea's thoughts concerning Miria's knack for stealing, the agent turning her attention to the boss and the phone she held.
Perhaps, Galatea reflected she should have turned it off before offering it to her boss as her grip, tightening upon the bars was a sign that Irene was taking the discovery of the wallpaper rather dramatically. The look she received reaffirmed her thoughts as the sound of a car reversing stalled Irene's murderous intentions. Heading for the balcony, Irene was just in time to see her Toyota perform a perfect three point turn before screaming down the street and out of sight.
Closing the dungeon as discreetly as she could, Galatea settled comfortably down on the single chair, her focus that had remained upon the frozen form of her boss distracted by the small piece of paper poking out from the edges of her wallet. A combination of four numbers had been scribbled upon it, each circled. Galatea nearly dropped her wallet upon recognising them. As her pin number stared back at her, the agent registered the small message Miria had left her, the quickly scrawled "thanks" making what was sure to be an expensive credit card bill, a small sacrifice to make. Galatea glanced down at the ring upon her finger confirming it was a very small price indeed. After all, it was sweet of Miria to have had the foresight to leave her with payment in advance.