Descending the short staircase of his private yacht with a subtle smile across his face was Victor Chevalier, leader and founder of the UN's Raven Unit.
In one hand was a sleek black briefcase adorned with silver accents. The other cradled a crystal glass filled with whiskey, accompanied by a single, perfectly spherical ice cube. He strolled over to and leaned against the guardrail, taking in the breathtaking view of the setting sun casting a golden hue over the iconic Eiffel Tower. The bronzed structure stood tall against the backdrop, a sight that never failed to captivate him.
Victor indulged in a small sip of his whiskey, the tranquil symphony of waves blending harmoniously with the ambient sounds of music and the lively chatter of the people aboard. This wasn't a typical party, but the Chevalier Yacht was known for offering a unique glimpse of Paris to fortunate tourists.
A sly chuckle escaped Victor as he caught the attention of a woman dressed in a captivating red gown that accentuated her curves. Her fiery red hair added to her allure by catching the sunlight immediately, responding with a playful wink. Victor reciprocated with a nod and a teasing grin, leading to her joyful giggle.
Amid this fleeting connection, Victor's serene ambiance was disrupted by a series of beeps emanating from his phone.
Beep.
Beep.
With a raised, slender eyebrow, he retrieved his phone from the inner pocket of his impeccably tailored suit jacket. The new notification demanded his immediate attention, though it arrived sooner than anticipated.
RAVEN
Victor tapped the message, revealing the unexpected sender's message: Tatyana and I are in Kobe, Japan. Are you available for a drink and some casual conversation?
Unable to help but smirk, Victor replied promptly. Of course, but try not to wait for long.
Always fashionably late, Victor. We'll be at the New Moon Bar if you're not too late.
As some would say, Victor mused. I'll be there before you know it.
Of course.
With the exchange complete, Victor returned his phone to its pocket, picked up his briefcase, and began his way toward the rear of the yacht with a half-filled glass of whiskey. He deftly placed his drink on the tray of a passing waiter and maneuvered through the bustling crowd of passengers. Activating an intercom discreetly embedded in his specialized sunglasses, he issued a brief command.
"I require my private jet. Immediately."
"Right away, sir. A jet will be available in your vicinity shortly."
"Excellent."
A few taps later, the arrangements were in motion. Victor stood at the yacht's stern, checking the time on his polished silver watch. It read five forty-nine in the evening, which he found amusing for his standards.
'Fashionably late.'
Without uttering a word, Victor propelled himself airborne.
Fwoosh!
A streak of cobalt blue flashed through the atmosphere as Victor phased into the cabin of his sleek, black private jet. Settling into a plush seat by the window, he watched Paris's city lights transition into a twinkling canvas below before gradually receding into the distance.
The pilot's voice sounded over the plane's PA system. "Destination, sir?"
"Kobe, Japan. I have a small reunion with my top agents to attend."
"Understood."
The jet's engines roared to life, propelling Victor toward his following location with all the elegance and precision that matched his exquisite taste.
