A meeting was well underway in the abandoned car park by the time she found the one she was looking for;
"Mr. Wesley, how wonderful to see you again," the demonic Brit purred, announcing her presence, holding a burlap sack over a shoulder and a bottle in her other hand. "I believe you were waiting for this."
The sack was slipped smoothly from her shoulder and thrown at Wesley's feet, an action that was swiftly followed by her cracking the cap of her bottle open with her newly freed hand. While the three crime lords subtly gawked at the red head in their own way, Wesley just gazed at her steadily, radiating disapproval.
"I did say a week, dear," she winked and took a sip of the frothy golden liquid.
"That you did," he murmured, glancing cautiously down at the bag before moving towards it.
Leland Owlsley was not the first to wake from his stupor, in fact he was probably the last, but he was the only one who cared enough to say something about their uninvited guest; "Excuse me, I have a few questions about our interruption here, but you can start by answering who this is?"
"No one of importance, Mr. Owlsley, I can assure you," she answered instead of Wesley, who was retrieving his gloves to look in the bag.
Owlsley, who had been facing Wesley, turned to look at her with a very patronising expression; "Considering you just interrupted a private meeting and addressed me by name, you'll forgive me if I don't believe you, Miss…"
He trailed off as he gazed at her and she took another leisurely sip of her drink, only speaking once her mouth was empty; "I won't be telling you my name, if that's what you want."
Disgruntled but not detoured, Owlsley pushed; "Not only is that unprofessional, it's bad for business."
"Ah, but I'm not a business, Mr. Owlsley and thus, I have no need to be professional. Besides, unlike Mr. Wesley and his employer who are polite to the extreme by default, neither you nor Nobo are very polite at all, so I see no reason why I should even attempt to give you a name to address me by. And before you ask, Madam Gao knows better than to ask for a name unnecessarily."
The two women nodded regally to each other. It was a show of solidarity on the redhead's part and respect to the younger woman from Madam Gao. Anything the other two men may have said in response to that was interrupted by a polite cough from Wesley. One last smug look was shot at the financial man as everyone turned to take in Wesley's passive, if a bit paler, face; the sack still held in his gloved hand.
"Is there a reason for their disfigurement, Ms. Black?" he asked blandly. At the uncomprehending red eyed blink, Wesley reached into the bag with his gloved hand and pulled out a severed head by its fair hair. Two pairs of Asian eyes narrowed at the sight of it while Owlsley just swore. The general assumption was that it was Vladimir's head, purely based on the shape of it. As the eyes had been removed along with the eyelids which left jagged, bloody scars on the surrounding areas, the nose broken into a flattened lump and the jaw broken leaving the mouth open but empty of a tongue, it was understandably a difficult guess as to which brother it was.
"Oh that! Most of that was experimentation. I cut out their tongues though, once they stopped thinking up new insults," she explained, "I left the teeth in there for you though; Just in case you wanted to check them or use them for some reason or another."
"How thoughtful," Wesley smoothly replied, "You don't mind?"
"Makes no difference to me. I'm just here to drop those off and finish my drink."
"I can see," he stated agreeably; "And your thoughts, Ms. Black, are they still as dark as your name? Or should I be calling you something different?"
"Oh no," she hummed thoughtfully, holding her bottle up to the light, showing off the last few mouthfuls of the golden drink, "I'd say my current thoughts are golden. Peachy, even; or maybe some other warm and satisfied colour."
"And there's still no chance of getting a way to contact you?"
She gave a coy smile and raised the bottle to her lips; "None at all."
Wesley sighed as she drained the bottle, but Owlsley was looking between the pair of them incredulously. His eyes settled on, Wesley when he asked; "You're just going to let her walk away? After all she's seen? With all she knows?!"
He swung around at the sound of her chuckle to see her holding the bottle out at arms-length.
"Oh, Mr. Owlsley," she cooed as she let the bottle drop.
The gathered crime lords realised their mistake when they watched it smash and Owlsley felt delicate hands resting lightly on his arms and warm breath caressing his ear with a whisper; "I'd like to see you try and stop me."
The moneyman spun around to face nothing but air. The gathered group carefully examined their surroundings, ignoring their mounting panic at their prey like feelings and the cruel laughter that echoed throughout the open car park.
Leland Owlsley felt as if he'd dodged a bullet.
Reading back over it, I think I'm still okay with keeping this at 'T', regardless of implied torture, which is really the only reason I'm concerned. If you think otherwise, let me know.
I was going to update again next Friday, but then I saw that, that was Christmas Day... So, I thought I'd update next Tuesday or Wednesday instead and have the last update on Christmas!
Again, I hope you enjoyed it!