Title: The Mission

Author: Bloodrope

Fandom: Vampire Academy

Rating: T

Previously on The Mission: "Terribly sorry, I'm Dimitri Belikov." He gave me a shit-eating smile that showed his perfection of pearled teeth and I started at him in shock. 'Holy shit, I'm fucked.' Well one thing's for sure, Lissa was probably going to be waiting for me a tad bit longer than expected, as the man who was standing in front of me was the man who I sent my life to practically. Did he know who I was? How could he have found me, especially when I was using my mother's maiden name? 'Well fuck me sideways.'

Chapter 2:

"The crime isn't the hard part; it's getting away with it."

I'm probably a hundred percent sure that the look of fear scattered across my face like a mother who just found out that her perfect child actually put gum into her arch nemesis' hair in retaliation. Now when I most desperately needed to throw up my ever-present wall that showed neither emotion nor any care in the world, came tumbling down like Jericho's wall. Quite honestly, I was scared. So many emotions ravished my internal mind, questioning as to why he was here in New York; here in front of me, well Rose Hathaway not Rosemarie Mazur. I shook my head in a feeble attempt to regain my senses, which were desperately needed to face him. His dark hazel eyes blazed tinged green by the lighting from the ceiling yet nevertheless it was breathtaking.

There was a slight look of misunderstanding on his features and I flashed him an alluring smile in attempt to act as though my previous internal meltdown/freak-out was not vital to the point of non-existence. Hopefully it'd work.

I knew who Dimitri Belikov was. Many people knew him as an art-collector and gallery owner extraordinaire in California among other things to help the community. I personally knew of him because when I sent him the painting that was supposed to be for the Strigoi family, instead got "mistakenly" mixed up.

As I waited patiently for my flamboyant and arrogant client to be ever so courteously to answer the damn phone, I started the SUV and as I started to pull out, I heard the gruff voice of his second in command, Elena. Gosh the woman might be stunning in person if you were into the whole stick figures but when she opened that fat trap of hers, let's just say that not even her beauty could make up for it.

"What?" The nasally voice sneered into the phone.

It seemed that I might've disturbed her precious time with her boss but I didn't give the slightest damn. My job was to get the painting, call and get the money at the drop, which was at the warehouse. After that, I didn't know what I was going to do. I held back profanities with all the might I could possibly muster and just to amuse myself, I grimly smiled into the receiver.

"Hi, Elena! Listen Isaiah is actually waiting for me to call him so could you be a doll and pass him the damn phone?"

I wanted to growl as she scoffed into the phone about how when she saw me she was going to show how much of a doll she was in person. I heard ruffling of things and a door opening before her voice called out loudly. My hands were firmly wrapped against the steering wheel and my knee started jostling in sudden anticipation. A few seconds later I heard his suave voice state for Elena to stop standing there and to bring him the phone. That I was an important client that needed to be taken care of.

I even rolled my eyes at that part and I could almost swear that it was the same thing Elena did if her boss probably wasn't waiting for the telephone. Who knows maybe she'd do it after she left among a few things, how was I supposed to know?

A few coughs later, his melodic voice consumed the left side of my ear giving me chills.

"Miss Mazur, it's a pleasure you've called. I was beginning to get worried especially with the reports. To be honest though, I'm quite disappointed that you caused the police to be involved."

"My apologies, Isaiah. Something's are just inevitable you know. That risk had to be taken. Overall, I wasn't caught so that shouldn't be worrying you. You'll be getting something soon though, so don't fret," I sassily replied. In my mind, I was giving him the finger muttering that he should try to break into a museum, get out in 10 minutes without setting alarms, and see what he says. Yeah I thought so, you need to have utmost precession and that old geezer probably couldn't wipe his ass without his fingers shaking. The thoughts that started to multiply in my head caused me to break out in a grin.

"You will have the Dega for me tomorrow."

It wasn't a question more a direct order and I inhaled deeply twirling my tongue in circles in my mouth.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

He snorted before reiterating that I was to be at the warehouse by tomorrow evening 11:30 at the latest or else and hung up the phone.

Or else? Who is he trying to be the boogieman that is going to come out from under my closet and drag me into the closet to be tortured? He needs someone, preferably Elena to teach him some current lingo. Old school ways were being tossed out by the second and you had to be flexible with the times if you wanted your points across. Internally though, the thoughts of "Or else" did make me uneasy. I had a very imaginative mind and to be stuck with those unpromising images and scenarios were ghastly.

I pulled out from the side parking area and sped through the narrow streets to get to the main streets where I went back to my loft… Technically, it wasn't mine but seeing as the owners of the beautiful studio had decided to go on a Vacation to India who was I to not keep the place tidy and be a helpful stranger? Of course I would… maybe even add some modifications.

As I drove down the street that was a block away from the Loft, I parked the car on the side of the street resting my head on the thick leather wheel. I wanted to pound my head constantly until I caused a concussion or massive head trauma; something that would get me out of meeting the Strigoi group. Anything would've done but alas it seems that the starts which were hidden by the Sun's overbearing rays were covered and had decided to be on strike when it came to anything Mazur related.

"Get ahold of yourself Rose. This is a job. We complete jobs even if it goes against morals if you want to live remember?" I tried to make myself see reason that tonight's meet would go on, to try and psych myself into my old mentality that if it got me cash I'd steal anything that I could. It worked slightly and I had enough courage to add some spice to tonights meeting. Grinning, I stopped my assault to my precious head, exited the vehicle, and made my way to the back seat where I pulled out a black bag and slipped my hand underneath the seats to pull out the circular container that held the stolen work of art. A surge of pride enveloped my entire core.

I stole Edgar Degas' painting. I got away with it… well so far I have. I had to be careful if I didn't want to get caught and spend the rest of my entertaining life in a cell that had steel bars as the accessory of choice. My father would absolutely enjoy that scene and probably catalog it to be replayed for the rest of my life. It would be unacceptable.

Slipping the container into the bag, I pulled back and shut the door closed taking in my surroundings. Old style buildings gathered on one side bring a vintage feel while on the other side new more modern styles of buildings graced the sides. A flush of a light peach painted the building, which had splashes of white on the rails and framed the windows. From where I stood there had to be at least 4 floors to each apartment. Cars parked on the side of the roads and some women were walking their dogs or chatting on cellphones. As nostalgic as it felt, I figured that having to deal with the same routine would get rather tiring. I couldn't understand how normal people could handle such a task. Normal… The word itself was false. To what in the world is normal. Who in this world can classify themselves a hundred percent to say that they are normal? What is the actual definition of being normal? Is it being someone who you aren't, to try and fit into the mold that people desire? If any of those questions had a yes then I didn't want to be normal. I'd be quite content in being an eccentric soul.

Normally it'd take me about 10 minutes to walk a block towards the more suburban style townhomes that could've been pictured in Style. France in itself was of high fashion but also had fascinating architecture though in some places it looked like your average neighborhood in the States. I might have been out of the country, in a foreign land, but in reality each city had something that reminded me of home and it was more interesting to find out and pick through the similarities. Such being the man's home who I have invaded. I walked through the gardened pathway behind some of the other loft doors, went up the stoned steps towards the rusty coloured door, and lifted my hand to above the railing. The brass key fumbled within my fingers and after I grasped it, I slipped it into the lock, this time not checking my surroundings that had been a habit.

The sweet smell of lilacs filled my senses giving it a slight feminine aura to the room due to the air freshener. As I shut the door, the reassuring click of the lock going into place my eyes habitually scanned the room. Times like this I felt like Jason Bourne ready for someone to sneak in and was on high alert. My quickened heartbeat was sounding in my ears in loud clomps but I quickly tried to push out the raging sense of paranoia. It must be getting to my head. It just has to be. With the meeting happening tomorrow, I had to come up with an idea, a way to get what I wanted which was the money but not really turn over the Dega so that it could be placed on the Black-market. A painting as beautiful and as vintage as Les Choristesshouldn't be exposed to the world for a battle to begin.

I had to snap out of it and think. Ideas started to form. What if I decided to forge the painting? It'd take time, precession and heat for the cracking to be precise so that it could be referenced from the 1800's. On the other hand, I could just leave town? The chicken-shit way to go. To be a laughing stock and referenced as a coward… Was I willing to go so low? No. It seemed that the only plausible way to get out alive with the painting and the money seemed to be forging it. Letting out a groan, I dropped the bag onto the chestnut hardwood floors.

Bricks lined the East, South and Western walls in beautiful reds and charcoals while the free wall was painted ivory. Dark leather lounge chairs and a couch rested on the walls with a glass coffee table in the middle. Nothing was honestly fancy about the place but it was slightly cozy for a being in a stranger's home. Some plants were scattered in pots by the windows, needing to be watered. It wasn't my job to be this nobody's housekeeper so I grabbed the bag and casually walked up the flight of stairs towards what looked to be an office while a few feet away a curtain closed off a small bedroom where a plain mattress was elevated with blue sheets.

The office area is what I was more fixated about, as it was my base where I had conducted for a week or so investigations on just the layout of the museum, what type of security and how many guards were roaming about. Uniformed and hidden about besides minor things such as opening closing; when the employees left for the night. I had also looked into escape routes from the museum to boats to borrow and escape from the island of sorts to perhaps the UK where I could take a flight and escape. To go off the grid. Papers and pictured lingered and were tapped onto the walls as a result of my thorough planning. What was on the table I pushed off with a sway of my hand, knocking it all onto the hardwood floors where the papers flowed their way under the couch and the table itself.

I expertly pulled out, placed the Dega painting on the table, used little weights to keep the corners from rolling inward, and leaned forward towards the painting looking for cracks and distinctive brush strokes to mimic besides finding the adequate paper that would fit the time. The strokes were going in an upward formation with at least a 3 mm brush. Sun angle would be during late spring early fall where the days of light were decreasing. The specific shadows that were where the man where jollying with their arms outstretched and behind them. The specific oils that Edgar Degas used for his paintings were mass-produced globally and it seemed that the blues and the reds were from slight carbon bases, which I didn't have.

I exhaled loudly and searched my back pocket for my burn-phone and dialed the all too familiar number that I'd use on dire emergencies. This I honestly believed was considered so.

"You have reached the office of Ibrahim Mazur, this is Sophia how may I direct your call?" A bored yet professional tone sweetly slurred.

"Yeah Sophie, this is Rose can you put me through to my father? It's an emergency."

I was in no shape or mood to deal with any bullshit and the woman on the phone remained silent for a minute.

"Please hold," was all she stated and the melodic classical music filled my ears. My foot tapped against the wood floor and my eyes roamed across the painting again, probably for the millionth time.

"Come on you stupid old fool, answer the damn phone. I'm not one of million dollar clients who sit on their ass for a living," I growled to the receiver.

A dark chuckle resumed from the words, which I had spoken to, and I couldn't help but mentally throw my hands up in the air. How my cursing and distaste for my father would actually get him to answer the phone. Delightful, next time I should just do that from the beginning.

"This stupid old fool that you are referring to is actually busy Rosemarie. And this Stupid old fool is actually in a meeting with foreign companies who are looking for some precious artifacts. Now what is your dire emergency? Are you out of money and you're signaling the bat light?"

I rolled my eyes at the whole bat light. How old did he think I was, 5? Still believing in such things as Superhero's when I know they are just a figment of people's imagination. I bit back though a snarky comment about the whole foreigners that were probably in his office drinking tea or their Russian Vodka.

"No I don't need any money from you, Old man. I do need a favor though," I stated with clench teeth.

I knew that the man on the other side of the phone was my father, yes and that he'd do whatever he could to make me happy but there were just some things that couldn't be fixed. He knew that I saw him as a tool and nothing more. A tool that could bring me business and also a tool that I could trade items that I had collected for things that I needed. It was known to all.

The infamous Abe Mazur was quite for a few seconds, though to me it felt like ages. My blood was rapidly coursing through my veins in anticipation. What if he denied my request of a favor? What if I couldn't get the painting completed by 11pm tomorrow in time to meet the Strigoi's? Should I even tell him about it? No, I couldn't. I briskly deleted the thought from ever entering my mind and chastised myself.

"Speak, daughter. If it is in my power, I'll see that it'll be in your hands." His stern yet truthful voice stated.

A surge of relief consumed me and I started telling him how I was in need of some oil pastels and a 37x37 cm canvas as soon as he possibly could; that I had a deadline by 10 tomorrow. He asked where I was staying and I told him Marseilles, France to which he grumbled something that was incoherent to my ears. He told me that he'd call one of his old contacts that owed him a favor and call me when I was to pick it up.

I didn't want to ask just what was he going to do to get me the supplies but thanked him and hung up.

I didn't know how to really act around Dimitri. So instead, I took a step away from him and took a few partial steps towards the first painting that was in the showcase; Boy with a Lute by Frans Hals. My eyes were transfixed on how the boys fingers were positioned and how the shot glass was positioned between his right hand while leaning against his left shoulder was the Lute. I could hear his footsteps from behind and flickered my gaze to the floor where his shadow was overpowering before resuming my critique of the boy.

"It's a beautiful piece of art," Dimitri stated as a matter of fact.

I couldn't help but mentally say, "Good one Sherlock, how about a cookie" but stated to him, "Well of course it's beautiful. Art itself holds amounts of beauty that illuminates something within each person's soul."

He nodded and moved on to the next painting that was just a few feet away from where I was currently standing. I stood there watching his large form slowly inch away from me with every step he took.

He turned towards my direction and I couldn't help but watch as strands of hair seemed to be escaping from the band that was tied to the nape of his neck, holding the forest of dark chocolate in one place rather than letting it roam free.

I stared at him in utter disbelief. Did he expect me to follow him like a dog? For me to just obey his every hypnotizing knowing stare? No. I refuse. He could fuck a duck for all I cared.

A buzzing in my buttocks caused me to in a very cliché movie that the protagonists gets a phone call in the middle of some horror story when she wishes she had it turned off before the killer chops her to tiny pieces, jump up a few centimeters. I was embarrassed and I could probably note that a color that resembled the cherry color heated on the apples of my olive tone cheeks.

Ceasing the moment, I grabbed the phone from where it always seems to be attached to and saw Lissa's name flash on the screen and with a few glares of the people in the museum answered it.

I didn't even have a second to take a breath before I hear,

"Rose! I mean come on where are you? I've been waiting here for 10 minutes. Where the hell are you? I called home and you didn't answer. Wait…. You're not having hot steamy sex are you? You didn't get arrested did you?" Her breathing escalated a few notches and it seemed that she was trying to control herself. I could just picture her beautiful face, her jade eyes that seem to run through every Dragomir darkening with utter fury.

I waited a few seconds to make sure that she wasn't going to go in for round two and walked away from the paintings noting that two caught my eye and that I might just take another look at them at another time… after hours.

I took the steps down the stairs quickly as I could in heels and when I was close to the door, I sighed in slight relief almost forgetting I had a pissed off Lissa on the other line. Damage control, Rose. Go now!

"I'm really sorry Lissa! I sorta forgot about the time. You see… Wait did you just ask if I was having hot passionate sex? The answer would be no because if I was you would be speaking to my answering machine while I'm going wild." A dark grin sketched itself onto my features at teasing her, though even I knew it wasn't a smart thing.

"Look, I'm alive, not in jail, and not screwing the living daylights out of anyone. I'm at the Museum just looking at the new showcase they're having… I am going to haul a cabbie right now and have lunch with you. Therefore, when you see me you can tear me to dragon pieces. How's that sound?" I tried to sound innocent, yet I bet I just sounded like I was making excuses. Walking down the mass amount of stairs from the museum, I locked my hand onto the railing and then took off towards the street where I was waving my arm like a banshee hoping to get someone's attention.

I did, thankfully or I was going to have to walk which wouldn't have been a pretty sight.

"So they haven't banned you from the museum yet, Rose?"

She seemed interested in me being in the museum and I could not blame her. Lissa and I have known each other since we were forced to sit next to each other in Kindergarten. That wasn't the bad part. It was the teacher who was channeling a demon when she forced us to write out our full names. Mine being Rosemarie Mazur and hers being Valissa Dragomir. Being the young innocent child that I was, I didn't say anything until she turned her back to us, grabbed one of the toys from the bucket, and chucked it at her head in retaliation.

Life in the principal's office was a joy that day but it was like gluing us together and ever since then we were best friends. Lissa knew about my life, knew what happened with the Strigoi and offered me sanctuary until everything died down.

Lissa also knew that I have been banned from three different government run museums. A beautiful thing to have your résumé I thought.

"You seemed surprised about that Lissa? Where you having a bet to see when I'd get the boot? I'm hurt."

Her soft laughter was like music to my ears and I directed the cabbie to the restaurant where I was to meet my best friend.

"Of course not! I wouldn't ever bet against you. Plus, it's not being surprised but frankly intrigued by the people who are running the place. To think that you aren't on their radar is just fascinating."

I knew that I shouldn't have taken her words as seriously as I did but I just felt like it was a jab. It hurt that even my best friend had doubts of my greatness. Well though my pride had been knocked down a few notches it'd surely be returning to its original posture soon.

"Listen I just got into the Cab and I'll be there soon okay?"

"Alright, see you later."

I rested my head against the headrest of the air filled scented cab and took in the darkness as my lids closed over my eyes.

:-:

I walked into the slightly loud and lively restaurant and stood on the tip of my toes to see if I could see the locks of blond hair. However there were a few blonds, but I walked towards the hostess and told her I was looking for a woman. I stated that she was waiting for me and motioned me towards the left side of the shop, smiling.

I nodded thanking her and walked between tables and took my seat in a booth across from her. Her eyes met mine and she put down the menu that had her utmost attention while I was gone. I tried to give her a 'Please forgive me, you know you want to' smile to try and guilt her into it and she leaned forward.

"So what's showing at the museum that has gotten your attention to miss lunch with your best friend?"

I was busted. I wondered if she'd believe me if I told her that Dimitri Belikov was there, and how he had seemed to know who I was but was very cordial about it. Or would she rather believe that I was drawn to the important pieces of art that I could get my hands on without even the security cameras and motion detectors knowing?

I figured the latter, but I told her the truth. Her mouth fell slightly agape and when the server asked what I'd like to have to drink she was still in the whole shock mode.

Turning to the woman in a very homey outfit of a yellow sundress and flats and a red hibiscus flower in her hair I asked for a coke with no ice but two lemons and took that opportunity to gaze through the menu.

"You don't think that if he knows who you are that the Strigoi do too right?"

She wounded worried, which was in Lissa's nature. One that I loved to absolute pieces but her worrying about something that could be wrong wasn't good for her and I felt guilty for letting her in on that.

I hadn't actually thought about the Strigoi really for a month. I wondered if they had given up their search for me, for the painting and lastly their money. I knew that out of all the places in the world that I couldn't go to see neither my father nor my mother who were in California and Illinois. Nevertheless, I took the chance with my best friend. It seemed that she went unnoticed on their charts and I prayed to whatever being there was.

"I don't know Lissa, but it's been a few months. They're probably checking all abandoned and unlisted islands before coming here." I tried to be nonchalant about it. My best friends' eyes flashed with worry but it wasn't for her wellbeing which annoyed the living daylights out of me. Her worry shouldn't be placed on me but to her family.

Scanning the menu, I decided on having a bowl of red rice, and some pulled pork. Lissa stated to the woman what we'd like and took off towards the back to dispose of the order and have it filled.

It was eerie to be in this awkward silence with Lisaa while everyone else in the shop was loud, lively and even laughing. Spanish music poured out from speakers and the dimmed lights that were above us had stained glass with men with guitars, but I knew that they were called something else and other musical instruments. Some even had flowers and dancers.

Silence wasn't something I could deal with especially from her but if she wanted to talk, I'd always listen to her and she knew it. It seemed though she was battling herself. Her brows furrowed inward and a crease formed on her forehead while her lips were in a grim line.

Minutes later, she shocked the hell out of me with her statement.

"You're taking me with you on your next job."

I was at the time taking a sip of my yummy coke that had tints of tartness to it and coughed loudly as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. As my eyes watered, I looked in her direction to see the utmost determination and the finality in her jaded hues. She was serious and she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

When I got myself situated on not dying and breathing normally I shook my head. I wouldn't involve her in something that she didn't need to be.

"No you're not Lissa. You have a job with your Dad's company. That and Andre would kill me."

"You're taking me with you Rose, whether you like it or not."

I felt like a broken record. Really I did. How was I supposed to make my point across that I was the hunted, that my life was on the line and I didn't want hers to be either?

Frowning it seemed that no matter what I said, she wasn't going to budge.

"Fine, but you're going to deal with your brother."

"That's easy."

I thought to myself, For you it'd be. For me I'm going to be chopped liver.

A/N: Phew well here's a late chapter 2. I'm absolutely floored by the many Favorites and Alerts that I'm getting! It's making me smile. So posting schedule: I'm going to be gunning for Fridays unless Real Life calls. I saw this on another story and I sorta wanted to try it. Still looking for a beta. PM if interested!

Pop Quiz: (No not really but tell me what you think in a Review as well as your comments!)

Do you think Dimitri knows who Rose actually is?

Does Lissa really believe that Rose is done with her cons?

Do you think that the Strigoi family knows that Rose has popped back up?

Love always,

Bloodrope