Time: 2:50 am
Place: A large estate on the outskirts of Buenos Aires Argentina
A slight figure with feminine lines melted into the
shadows of the
tropical night, deftly avoiding the lackadaisical
movements of the
armed guards. The fact that the guards had grown
arrogant and
complacent in their patrols was still no excuse for
carelessness or
laziness on her part. She made her way silently
through the thick
foliage to a little known side porch of the
sprawling estate house.
She was thankful that the specialized
combat suit she wore reduced
her heat signature to barely nothing
as well as neutralised any scent
of her to the dogs patrolling. It
was one of the latest things cooked
up by the NSA techies. It had
self sealing gaskets, covered with a
special chemical resistant,
radar warping polymer and it was also
lined with light armour. The
suit's mask had a built in gas mask ans
NVG lenses built in. It
also obscured her features which was a big
bonus. It was
definitely living up to all the hype the lab boys were
putting on
it.
A careful scan of the area made her lips curl in contempt.
There we
no spotlights, no hidden cameras and looking over the
ground, she
detected no lasers, tripwires or pressure pads that
would set off any
traps or alarms. Leaving a gap this big was a
security sin in and of
itself. Her target was practically inviting
her in...but still no
need to get cocky...it could be a trap to
make her careless...
She made her way cautiously over the
ground to the French doors of
the patio. She looked over the
alarms on the door and almost
sneered...no one could be this
stupid. The alarm and security system
on this door was top of the
line in 1986. Stupid..... She still was
extra careful, it might be
a dummy trap, hiding the real security
system if she missed any
detail. The french door swung silently open,
she slipped inside
quietly and re-set the alarm..she then hid in the
shadows of the
grand staircase as the layout of the mansion shimmered
in her
mind. Sometimes having a photographic memory was indeed
a
blessing.
It had been a simple matter really, she'd
attended a cocktail party
hosted by her target two nights ago and
had allowed him to 'show' her
his bedroom. She made careful notice
of the halls and any escape
routes as she giggled and clung
'drunkenly'. Luckily the knock out
drops she'd laced his drink
with worked shortly after they reached
his bedroom and before he
got her bra off. She messed up the bed,
undressed him and left the
stray hair and incriminating lipstick
smudge here and there before
investigating the room, formulating
entry and escape routes. She
left half an hour later, taking care to
look disheveled and
'used'. She hid a smile as the guards smirked
after her...taking
her for a rich, loose, drunken, rather dim Swede
heiress whom
their employer just nailed.
After a couple of near misses, she
stepped into her host-now-target's
bedroom and smirked, looking at
the middle aged blond on the bed.
Hans Kohler...grand daddy was SS
who skipped out with lots of Nazi
gold and settled here. Daddy
turned that gold into lucrative drug
trade and Hansie added white
slavery to the mix, they were all still
Nazis too. Grandpa and
daddy were already dead.....to put it
simply...Hansie needed
killing. It would be less an act of homicide
and more an act of
pesticide.
She worked quickly, binding heavy sleeping Hans to
the bed...gagging
him, then finally backhanding him awake. When he
finally woke to
discover his predicament....she smiled as his eyes
widened with fury
and fear as he made noises around his
gag.....she rubbed peach oil
under his nose and whispered in
German "Mommy, I smell peaches." She
pried his eyes open
and puts in drops of LSD, waited for it to work
before slowly
strangling him to death with a piano wire garrote.
Sometimes
nothing beat an artistic death.
She waited till she heard the
crack of the vertebrate, signaling
Han's death before releasing
her grip. She left the garrote though.
She slipped out the open
bedroom window crouching into the sheltering
hedges beneath,
freezing into place as a couple of the guards stopped
in front of
her hiding place to pass a joint back and forth and to
discuss the
whores of a local establishment most luridly.
Within twenty
minutes, the guards dispersed...and after ten minutes
of making
sure she'd not be spotted, she
made her way off the estate and to
a private landing field where a
private jet was waiting. She
signed, was countersigned and she
stepped aboard the jet. She
recognised the agent on board as one of
her colleagues...Agent
Harris Wilkinson. She pulled off the hood of
her suit, causing a
silken rain of silver hair to spill around her
sharply chiseled,
pretty face. She peeled off the suit's gloves and
ran a slender,
pearl-pale hand
through it to keep it away from her
face.
"Another one bites the dust, eh DeWinter?" The
medium sized African
American gentleman asked. He bore a more than
passing resemblance to
Will Smith and took the whole MIB thing to
a whole new level.
She looked up at him with her glacier-grey
eyes. "That he did. Snap,
crackle, pop." She agreed in a
low, soft, modulated voice flavoured
with a mild Icelandic accent.
Wilkinson smirked and shook his head,
amusement lighting his sable
eyes "You're the bridge agent then?" She
asked
He
nodded a bit, then smiled. "Yer a sick bitch Maxwell, you
know
that right?" He asked as she continued to smooth her
hair. She looked
at him and gave a bright, beauty queen smile and
nodded silently,
causing Agent Wilkinson to mutter. "Village
Of the Damned reject."
Stiletto smirked "MIB wanna
be. it was at this time Maxwell De
Winter's cell rang. She picked
it up and sighed. "What so fucking
important?" She
coloured a bit. "Oh, hello father." She nodded. "Yes,
I'll
meet you in New York...you booked rooms at the Waldorf?....okay,
I'll
see you then." She snapped the cell phone shut. No rest for
the
wicked it seemed.