You lookin' to go another round? {Tag: Svetlana}

It had been a few weeks since the 'bank job'.  Malik had retrieved the data from the psychic worm, and it was everything he had hoped for.  It looked like he had recovered every bank account number and access password the banker had used to hide the stolen money.  He went and verified the funds through a secure terminal, and then true to his word, handed over all the information to his employers.  A lesser man would have emptied out the accounts, taken the money, and run with it.  Not Malik though, that wasn't his stile.  To Malik, all the money in the world wasn't worth shit if you didn't have  self-respect.  The Lion had a reputation based on his personal sense of honor.  He didn't break his word, and people came to him because they trusted that.  There was also the lesson that the banker provided.  It didn't pay to steal from the wrong people.  They knew who Malik was and if he disappeared suddenly they would start looking.  Going about it this way, the people who hired him were responsible for the money, and he was just a man who provided a recovery service for a percentage of a very large sum of money.


Even though he contracted and handled the job on his own, every member of his Pride got their cut.  They were family and family had no need for greed or dishonesty.  Vanessa, Cyd, Lisette, and the rest were living it up while the Mule was in the shop for some much needed repairs and maintenance.  Right now they were holed up in a few hotel rooms in Librium while 'home' was in the shop.  Large beds, hot showers, and a lot more space to roam and lounge about were a gift from the Divine.  Everyone was still adjusting to the addition of one more to their ranks, but she was fitting in nicely.  Malik looked about the empty hotel room and suddenly felt very alone with so much space around him.  Pushing up from his chair, the Lion grabbed his coat, threw it on, and left the room, locking the door behind himself.  


McGregor's was a bar that Malik was fond of.  It was one of his regular haunts when he was in the city.  McGregor was an old solider and a good number of ex soldiers turned mercenary made the place a second home.  It turned into an unofficial recruiting ground for people who needed work done.  McGregor didn't mind, and as a show of gratitude, the place was kept respectable.  Anybody who started trouble there didn't have to worry about the police.  They had to worry about any number of mercenaries that didn't like someone shitting where one of their own called home and welcomed them as guests.  Everyone kept to themselves, and minded their own business out of professional courtesy, and things just worked that way.  


Not ten feet in the door and there was already a large frosted mug of dark lager on the bar for Malik.  He always drank the same thing, and the first was usually on the house.  Malik left money on the bar anyway.  It was more than enough for the price of the drink plus a tip.  If he didn't get charged for it, then it was all tip.  The girls behind the bar usually smiled and slipped into their tip bucket.  Again, that was just they way things were.   With brew in hand, Malik took the first glorious sip of the Lager that was brewed on premises, and savored it while he walked to the back of the bar.  Along the way he saw a few familiar faces.  To them he nodded and greeted, but he didn't sit with any of them.  It wasn't company that he came her for.  He was just tired of silence.  In the hotel, there was no rumble of engine, or hum of mana generator, and without the Pride around it was far to quiet for him.  He just wanted a table alone at the back of the bar, and some comfortable noise around him.

“His name is Malik Karver. Big fellow that likes to hang out at a place called McGregor’s. If you can find McGregor’s then you can find Malik. He should be able to help you with your task. Good luck, Kozlovski.” Flynn set the phone back in its cradle, then steepled his fingers beneath his chin. Gray-haired though he was, he at one time was Umbra’s most prized agent. Now he was overseer to a group of new flesh who had been here ten or less years. The only one of the five new agents that was worth anything was Svetlana. She worked without question and had an excellent turnover ratio. Also because of her background in Chernobyl, she had need of very little training from Umbra and only when there was a task set before her that contained an unknown element. She was being tested now and for her sake, Flynn hoped that his pupil came out with shining colors.

Sitting at the single table of her miniscule motel room, Lana stared down at the grain on the wooden table before her. She was just into her tenth year with Umbra, still considered an amateur among its ranks and they had sent her after one of their own. A deflecting agent who had been closing in on his 30th year with the faction but had suddenly had a change of heart; taking with him not only the loyalty he had once pledged to Umbra, but also its secrets. So, from its ranks she had been selected to hunt down this former Umbra agent and end his life before he could ruin the faction with his knowledge. This she could do and she would.

Rising up from the chair in which she sat, Lana stepped into her worn militia-style combat boots and snatched her hooded leather jacket off the end of the bed. It would do to conceal the two pistols she had holstered at her ribs. Dressed in all black, she was mostly concealed during her nighttime walk through the city of Librium; her only real beacon being her eye-catching red locks that hung in curls and waves around her face. She could not hide them, because if they were to be colored and she so happened to transform into her other self, then the hair would just come back its natural color once she reverted back to human. It was also her most memorable feature. Who could forget the red-haired, green-eyed vixen come to kill them?

Striding across the street, only a few blocks down from where her motel was, Lana approached McGregor’s with an easy gait. Her focus solely on the door while she used her other senses to scan the area around her for any sort of lurking threat; her nostrils flaring to catch the scent of many creatures, as well as the alcohol of which they freely drank. Inside, the noise level was only a little higher than it was outside. Male musk and feminine pheromones permeating the air from the bar’s patrons, making her nose curl up slightly as she approached the bar. “What’ll it be, miss?” Because she was on the job, Lana refused to imbibe in any sort of mind or body hindering toxin. So she ordered a glass of ice water as she perched on a stool. Her gaze staring at the shelf of liquors behind the bar as her hearing focused on the conversations flowing around her.

“So d’ja here about Kole?” … “C’mon baby, just a minute alone with ya, s’all I need!” … “Yeah, that’s the guy. Malik. Always sits alone. Drinks alone. Got a lot of pretty women surroundin’ him though.” Bingo. Taking a casual sip from her glass, Lana turned on her stool to face the room and began to scan the faces until her eyes landed on the three men who were discussing the reason she was here. All other noises faded as their conversation became her focus and she followed one man’s gaze to a solitary table in the back of the room. There sat a man with a face she hadn’t forgotten and would not forget anytime soon. For a moment she was stunned stupid; her green gaze fixed on the dark skinned man with whom had been the bane of her last job…but also the better part of it.

This was much better. The noise was exactly what he needed to calm his nerves. There was a lot on his mind, and having spent almost all of his life on one battlefield or another, dead silence was a rare thing. He had learned to think fully and completely while being shot at or having things explode around him. Malik lifted his cold mug off the table and took a deep long pull. A refreshed exhale passed his lips as he set it back down and looked over the interior of the bar. A few nods came his way and they were returned in kind but no one approached his table.

In the solitude of his mind Malik worked through his thoughts one by one until something tingled on the edge of his mind. It wasn’t a sensation that he could describe to a human. It was something deeply rooted in the beast that had been born within him, a type of sixth sense. Eyes returned focus to his surroundings, and Malik followed his instincts. Like moths to a flame his eyes were drawn to the blazing red hair. There was no way he could forget the green eyed gaze, or the golden orbs that hid behind them. ‘Why was she here?’ he asked himself and casually shifted in his chair. She was looking right at him so there was no use in pretending he hadn’t noticed her.

The shifting of his posture had served two purposes. It eased his arms so that they were out of the way. He wore a 9mm in a shoulder holster under his arm. The safety was already off, as well as the snap that held the gun in the leather carrier. It was a habit that had been born from military training. You kept the safety on and the weapon secured when you traveled, but when you were stationary, you made sure you were ready and able to defend your position. The two of them had parted on good terms but that didn’t mean they were still on them.

Malik reached out and took hold of his mug’s handle once more and lifted up off the table. He raised it in her direction to give her a toast, his way of saying hello, and took a sip. He placed the mug back down on the table top, but didn’t take his hand from it. He kept his mocha skinned fingers laced through the handle, and his hand resting leisurely on the table. The gun was worn for a right handed draw, so he kept his left hand with the mug at the ready. It would take time to draw the gun, so he would use the mug as a weapon or a distraction, to buy time for him to pull the 9 mm. Now he waited for her to make her move.

“Grayson,” clipped the voice on the other end of the connection. Lana had spun back around on her stool, quickly dialed Flynn while regaining her composure. “This better not be your idea of a sick joke!” She hissed at Flynn through the earpiece as she fidgeted with the glass of water in front of her. She was speaking fluent Russian now, which made the bartender give her curious glances every so often. “Pull yourself together, Kozlovski. You know I’m not the humorous type. Do the job with Karver’s help or else.” The connection went dead again and she was staring down at the ice cubes floating at the top of her glass. Well fuck, she thought as she combed her fingers through her brilliant red hair.

Shoring up her pride, Lana ordered two shots of the house vodka and headed over to Malik’s table. As she moved across the room she assessed his mannerisms. The way he always kept one hand free and how his body seemed tenser now than before he’d even noticed her. Was she a threat to him? Their last meeting had ended on mutual terms and though she’d thought about him since, had not begrudged him in any way. Though it did prick her some that he’d managed to delay her from getting the kill she had been contracted for. “Mind if I join you?” She motioned to an empty chair at the table while holding up one of the vodka shots to show him she’d brought a peace offering.

Might as well play nice while she could since he had the information she needed. Or so Flynn seemed to think. Without waiting for his permission, Lana nudged a chair back with her foot and sat down in front of him. Her back was to the room and while it was a major pet peeve of hers, she was attempting to show him some form of respect by taking a vulnerable seat. One of the vodka shots pushed in his direction she raised her own high in salute and then tossed it back. The burn of the liquid tingled down her throat and warmed her insides as she settled into the chair; her legs crossing beneath the table and her hands sitting folded in her lap. “I never thought I would see you again.”

But here I am, her eyes seemed to say as they twinkled at him. Her lips twitching with a grin as she glanced down at his untouched shot glass. “Don’t like vodka, Malik?” His name rolled with an exotic taste off her tongue as the Russian accent gave her tone some flavor; a drastic difference from the Librium accent that was being spoken all around them.

For beasts body language was like an open book, and Malik was an amalgamation of both man and beast. He couldn’t overhear the words that she spoke on the phone that she dialed, and it wouldn’t have helped him if he did. He didn’t speak Russian, but he did understand that her movements became agitated all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the sight of him, however their last encounter left him with the impression that she wasn’t one to be easily surprised. He didn’t relax his posture at all, instead he focused on watching her every movement. She had a very nice walk, but he couldn’t let himself enjoy her hips. He was worried about those shot glasses in her hands. If one of those was meant for him, it could be bearing poison.

The fire haired Russian finally stood before his table and asked permission to sit, so he gave her a slight smile with his full lips and motioned to one of the chairs for her to choose. ”No… have a seat.” A gentleman would have stood to welcome a lady to having a seat with him, but it would compromise his position. He wasn’t going to do that. When Svetlana moved the chair and settled down he took note of how she positioned herself and watched the shot glass being pushed towards him. ”I’d thought I’d seen enough of you, but now I see I was wrong.” There was a bit of flirtatious play in his deep voice, but none of it touched his determined eyes. She was very easy on the eyes, but the still raw flesh beneath his shirt reminded him she was more than just pretty. She’d given him wounds, some of which were going to leave scars. He’d healed enough to not wear bandages, but the hurt was still fresh enough that he had to keep himself from touching them.

He watched her reaction to his words before letting his eyes fall to the shot glass that sat in front of him. She was Russian so the choice was customary. He did like vodka but he didn’t like taking a drink from a potential enemy. It was a calculated risk. Was she too Russian to pollute the nectar they cherished more than water? Had she come to settle a score with him for interfering with her job? There was one piece that stood out in all of this though. She knew his name. He had not spoken it during their previous encounter and no one here had spoken his name aloud. She knew his name, but his face surprised her. It was quite the puzzle, and the cat in him had always been an inquisitive creature. His inner cub always loved to sniff and paw at new things.

His nose wrinkled and his big hand flowed forward to pick up the shot glass. ”I do, and I like to gamble from time to time,” he said with a rise of the shot glass and then downed the clear liquid. The taste was vodka on his tongue which meant if she poisoned him it was odorless and tasteless. His throat didn’t seize right away so if he was dying he had a bit more time on Terra. ”Nostrovia” It was a word that he had heard spoken by other soldiers who drank with friends on the battlefield in between forays. He remembered it just as vividly as he remembered everything else, but he never thought he would have the opportunity to use it. It was amazing how odd bits of knowledge from here and there came to play later in life. ”So…. You know my name, and we’ve seen each other naked…. Are you going to introduce yourself?”

“I do, and I like to gamble from time to time.” He lifted the vodka shot, called his salute and downed the clear liquid in a brave show of fearlessness. But, not to disappoint, Lana had not poisoned his drink as he had so thought. “Nostrovia,” she returned once he’d placed the empty glass back on the table. Leaning forward she crossed her arms atop the table and waited for him to finish speaking before she decided to answer.

“That is where you are mistaken. I never saw you naked… Not unless you count being nine feet tall and hairy.” Nor had he seen her completely in the buff. Even though he had torn the front of the shirt open, it had still covered the most intimate parts of her. “You got to see more of me, if I remember correctly, Mister Karver.” His inquisitiveness was to be expected. She did know more about him than he did about her and in their job field, which was a big no-no.

“Did you like what you saw?” One brow rose questioningly as she sat back, glancing briefly over her shoulder to signal the bartender. She had him bring over the bottle of vodka and refilling both of their shot glasses, returned Malik’s to him. “My name is Lana and you have something I need.” He need not know any more than the basics of who she was. Her name, her job title and what she needed from him. Who she worked for and why she needed his help were secrets that she could keep to herself.

“I’m looking for someone. I was told you know where I could find him.” A mumbled ‘Nostrovia’ as she tipped the shot glass against her full lips so the liquid disappeared into her throat. She was going against every rule she had set for herself during a job. No alcohol. No distractions. No revealing herself to anyone . Already she had broken every rule and she could thank Flynn Grayson for that. The old man was seriously pushing his luck with the werewolf; sending her on missions that were fraught with one impediment after another.

He was a New Breed soldier and always accustomed to wearing clothing and equipment that were designed to accommodate the transformation. While the beast felt free to roam around without a scrap of clothing on, but the training of a man made him understand the concept of naked even if he did have fur to protect him. She was right about the presence of clothing on her when he got his free show of her human form. "You've got a point. I did like what I saw," he said with a smirk. "If you keep acting nice, we can play show and tell later. I've got a few new scars that have interesting stories."

His posture had relaxed a great deal when he realized that he wasn't going to die of poison. Her posture set him at ease for the moment. She knew his name and apparently had a purpose for being here, so there was no danger for him at the moment. The questioned of what still remained, and if he didn't give it to her this meeting could become violent again. When the bartender finished pouring their shots Malik said, "Leave the bottle. You can put it on my tab." The bartender, knowing him as a regular, didn't hesitate. She gave the bottle a look to guess how much he should be charged, and left it on the table. "Lana? It's a nice name. Is it short for something?" He took up the shot glass before him and raised it to her before saying "Nostrovia." and downing it. The shot gave him time to think about what it was she had just said.

He reached out for the bottle and grabbed it by the neck. He poured another shot for her and then himself before placing it back on the table. "You're looking for someone and I can help you find them? If you know my name, then you know I have a reputation for being trustworthy." He picked up the shot glass and held it up in the air waiting for her to join him. "I'll listen to the name you give me, but I'll warn you first..... Depending on the name I may not help you. You can try and beat it out of me, but I won't give up a friend." He tipped the shot glass to his lips and then set it back down on the table.

Malik looked across the table at her and his face was completely calm. Even the slight smile on his lips spoke of a confident resolve that death was inevitable. His eyes told a different story though. They were fierce and as hard as steel. He was confident that he wasn't going to break. She may have seen his type before in the past. They knew that everyone had a breaking point. In interrogation that point would eventually be reached, so they never intended to make it that far. His type died fighting before they were put to the question. "You're also going to have to convince me to help you. It's gonna take more than buying me a drink...... I'm not a cheap date."

“Don’t give me a reason to act otherwise and I can be as nice as you want me to be.” The list of reasons was an endless one. He could refuse to help her, make his demands too extreme or even start a fight with her. Or he could, like all men tend to do, say something that would inadvertently set her off. Even if she was werewolf, Lana was still a woman and therefore felt entitled to having things done her way. Of course she was willing to negotiate from time to time and even could swallow her pride on occasions, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

When he asked about her name, she lifted her refilled shot glass and stared at him for a moment. “Da... But Lana will do for now.” She wasn’t about to give up her advantage over him. Knowing a person’s name without reciprocation held a lot of sway in certain situations.

“I doubt who I’m looking for you consider a friend.” Leaning back after she downed the shot, Lana produced a folded piece of paper from her jacket pocket. Once opened it showed a grainy picture of a man in his mid-forties with dark hair and a stocky build; in one hand he carried a dark briefcase while the other held a cell phone to his ear. “This is Ronald Kingsley. He is a former superior for Umbra. I was told you know where he is.” She pushed the photocopy towards him, in case he wanted a closer inspection.

“More information is going to require a more…private setting.” Her hands lifted, palm up to indicate the crowded room behind her. She was being ordered to trust Malik with her job, but she didn’t have to trust his favorite hangout. There were unknown variables that could easily overhear their conversation and if the werelion did have the information she needed, then Lana didn’t want someone else running back to Kingsley telling him that he’d been found out. “Besides, I’m a lot more convincing if you get me alone.”

Ronald Kingsley. Malik heard the name and did his best to keep his features schooled in an unchanged mask. He knew the bastard quite well. He had contracted the Pride for a job and did some double dealing. Kingsley had tried to sell the Pride to a rival corporation as New Breed test subjects for their experiments. The experiments were illegal which is why they went to Umbra and double crossed unsuspecting targets. The Pride had managed to fight their way out of the ambush, and in doing so found out that it was Kingsley who had betrayed them. After it was all said and done Malik called in some favors and got as much info on the man as he could find, and started keeping tabs on him. The dealings that gave the Lion his reputation were also why people went out of their way to help him settle the score. Kingsley's high position with Umbra was why Malik couldn't touch the bastard. Lana had said 'former superior' which meant there was a change that he wasn't aware of.

He needed to know more of what this woman wanted with Kingsley before he told her anything. He wasn't going to let the bastard off the hook for betraying his Pride. If the woman wanted to help him, Malik would keep his mouth shut, but she was a killer. If elimination was the object of her efforts then that was another story all together. "Privacy without tipping anybody off? I think I can get us out of here without causing suspicion." He reached into his coat and pulled out a bill fold. Thumbs peeled off a couple bills and tossed them down onto the table. "Follow my lead and go with it."

Malik pounded the rest of his beer, stood up from his seat, and grabbed the bottle of vodka by the neck with his left hand. He moved around the table and stood over her without saying anything for a moment then smiled. His right hand moved towards her cheek and the calloused surface cradled her chin with surprising gentleness. He leaned down and whispered quietly for only her inhuman hearing to pick up. "If you're gonna hit me, wait till we're out of here." Not giving her a chance to pull away, Malik's full lips touched hers and lingered for a moment. They were full and just firm enough to be unmistakably masculine. They parted slightly and then touched her again, closing around her bottom lip, and when he drew away, gave the lush ruby pillow a playful tug as he stood up. The kiss grew into a smile that reminded her of the cat who licked the cream, and he shifted his head beckoning her to follow him.

Not waiting for her to deck him right there should she feel the urge overwhelming the need to wait, Malik started for the door. Svetlana could see a few stares moving their way and a see a couple of smirks. A few words drifted to her ears and she overheard comments like, "Malik's at it again", "Lucky bastard", and "So that's why she was looking for him". Svetlana had come in there asking for him by name, which meant he had to give any nosey individuals a plausible reason for them meeting and leaving together. It would see the brute had a bit of sense in his head for misinformation and keeping secrets. With his reason firmly in place Malik waited outside just at the corner of the building so Svetlana could see him. Once she did he would walk a short distance down the street at a slow pace so she could catch up with him. Just in case she was upset about the stolen kiss he readied himself for a haymaker. Lana didn't strike him as the type who slapped.

"Privacy without tipping anybody off? I think I can get us out of here without causing suspicion." Scooping the photocopy back up, Lana refolded the grainy picture and slipped it back into her jacket pocket. At least he was willing to listen to her and negotiate with her for the information she needed. This really weren’t much; just Kingsley’s location and who was helping him. She needed to know what sort of obstacles she faced. Kingsley hadn’t been the most benevolent of men but every douchebag dictator always had those psychotically devoted followers; brainwashed weasels, who would do a person’s bidding with very little need for coaxing to do any sort of task to befall them. "Follow my lead and go with it."

As he rose, tossing down the cash to pay for what they had consumed and what he was taking with him, Lana turned in her chair to do the same. He stalled her by approaching her from around the table; blocking her path from standing. His muscular frame hovered over her as she watched his hand descend towards her. Her own hands grasped the furniture; one to the back of her chair and the other to the edge of the table just to keep from slapping his away. She was not good with intimacy, so the way her head tilted against his palm was slightly awkward. She was about to tell him to stop; the word hovering on the tip of her tongue when he swooped down and planted his lips against hers.

Green eyes widened as his mouth moved gently against her red lips. The pressure was gentle and then firm when he bit and tugged at the plump, lower flesh as he released her and motioned with his head towards the door. She stood with more dignity than she actually felt, sure that her cheeks were tinted pink as her head remained lowered and her eyes fixated on the floor while she walked. Oh, merciful moon she did want to hit him but only because she felt embarrassed from such a public display of…what? Not affection, but something. Outside she stopped on the sidewalk and tilted her head back, looking up at the waning crescent moon rising in the sky.

Turning in his direction, she followed behind him a few steps until she was certain that no one had followed them out of the bar. “So, what can you tell me about Kingsley? Do you know where he’s hiding?” She was too embarrassed to mention anything about the kiss. Not that it hadn’t been enjoyable but because she had not been trained to handle a situation like that. Attraction was still an alien concept to the werewolf. “What sort of help does he have? Guards or just himself?” And where was he taking her? She reached up and rubbed at the holster hidden beneath her leather jacket. "And don't try lying, I can smell a liar."

When Lana caught up to him he was pleased to see that she didn't try to break his jaw. Malik licked his lips and savored the taste of her. The kiss was in no way unpleasant even if she was tense at first. It was stolen after all. Just like Lana, Malik kept a watchful eye glancing over his shoulder to make sure they didn't have any tails. He turned down the second alleyway and walked into the shadows. While she asked her questions he looked back and forth from the wall of one building to the other. Inhuman senses cut through the dark was and searched for suitable features in the surfaces. "Come on." he said to her and crouched down.


Without warning Malik leapt into the air at the wall in front of him. His hands grabbed the ledge of a small window that was near the ceiling of the second story. The muscles of his arms and back flexed to lift his entire body and make use of the lingering momentum. His feet planted against the windowsill and Malik pushed off with all his might, thrusting him into the air towards the wall of the adjacent building. He arched his back, and whipped his legs over his head in a perfect back flip. Just like a cat, he miraculously landed on an outcropping in the building's architecture. He only stayed there a few moments, just long enough to prepare himself to jump again, and then he was airborne again. Out stretched his body flowed through the air until strong hands gripped the rough stone ledge of the opposite building's roof. Malik swung himself up and over the ledge to plant his booted feet firmly on the roof. Seven stories in three jumps, and now he was looking over the edge and calling down to Lana. "Come on up!"

Malik moved out of the way, then leaned forward on his elbows so that he could watch how she moved. Once she joined him on the roof Malik made a swift circuit to look in all directions. It was the perfect place to talk privately. There was nowhere to hide nearby, it was dark so they couldn't be seen easily, and if they ended up fighting there were no innocent bystanders. "So, you can smell a liar? I didn't know our kind could do that. I just pay attention to heart rate, pupils, and body language. It's served me pretty well, but you'll have to teach me your trick." He walked over to the center of the roof, so no one could hide in the alleyway below and eavesdrop.

"Before I even think about negotiating I want you to tell me what your business is with him." His voice was level, and his scent was patient in its masculinity. "Anything you tell me I'll take to my grave without revealing it to anyone. If you managed to find out my name and where to find me, you know I'm a man of my word." He watched her intently while she pondered his request. "If I like what I hear, we can start negotiating. If not, then I try to walk away, and you probably try to kill me for the information." His scent never changed and his voice had a matter of fact tone, as if this was just the way the world worked. He knew the truth of the situation and didn't hold it against her.

A lesser being would have been impressed by Malik’s show of getting himself to the rooftop. Lana knew what he was and was aware of the feats that the werelion was capable of. Instead of watching in awe as his body flew upwards in a series of jumps, twist and spins, she was kneeling down to tighten the laces on her boots and check the clasp of the holsters hidden within her jacket. She would follow the same path as he did; starting with a window’s ledge that she pulled herself up to and then jumped across to a fire escape.

There she rested for a split second before lunging towards an extended pole used for electrical purposes. Spinning her body around it twice so she had enough momentum to fly at the top edge of the building; her feet crested the ledge and her torso twisting so she arced into an easy crouch at his side. “You’ve never noticed how a person’s scent changes when they fib? To me it smells bitter…sour.” Facial expressions and body language could be tamed to give away nothing. Lana was very good at appearances and should her career as a mercenary not work out then she could definitely get into show business.

Rising up, she strolled around the rooftop as she listened to him. Tongue in cheek and her gaze falling on the werelion when there was a pause in his monologue. “I’ve been hired to locate him, kill him and destroy the information he has.” She peeked over the edge a few times; more curiosity than actually checking for anyone. “Kingsley is a threat to my employer, which also makes him a threat to me. Plus…I think we both know that you’d like to see him dead too.”

There had been a reason behind Flynn giving her this particular informant. Malik had a history with Kingsley that went deeper than her own. He had reason to hate the man she was hunting and reason to see him dead. She didn’t have to say out loud why that would interest Malik, he’d be able to read it in her expression. How one brow lifted in a ‘Yes, I know’ manner. His business was not just his business. It was hers too and as unfair as it was that she knew more about him than he did her, Lana would keep her secrets until she found someone worthy of knowing them. “Call it a favor. You help me and one day I help you.”

She hated owing people; made it a rule to never owe anyone anything. But this was a huge payday for her. She’d have some collateral within Umbra to have a say in the missions she took. It would also make Flynn proud; as much as she fought against him, he was the closest thing she’d ever had to a father.

It was a very nice acrobatic display that she put on, even if she did cheat and use the fire escape. Malik had seen the impressive agility she had up close and personal during their fight. Rarely did one have a chance to appreciate an opponent from a safe vantage point. When she brought up the changes in a person's scent when they lied, Malik thought back on his encounters. Every time he was searching for a lie in someone's words he was too focused on his senses of hearing and sight. The military had trained him based on what they knew. They knew the classic signs of falsehoods that machines could detect: heart rate, heat, and pupil dilatation. That is what they taught him to look for and identify using only his body's senses. They never taught him how a beast would search for the truth, and knowledge overshadowed instinct. "Can't say that I have. I've always been too focused on what I was trained to pay attention to."

He moved closer to her while she peered over the edge of the building. His footfalls were silent as the cat inside him. Malik wanted to test what she told him. While she spoke her intentions he leaned in and drew in the air slowly. His ears strained for her heart beat as was trained habit. He couldn't see her eyes so he focused on her scent. He already knew it well. She was a female and it had been filling his nostrils since she sauntered over to him in the bar. There was no change in it, no bitterness, and no sour aspect revealed. Maybe she was lying to him about the change in scent to cover up the lie she was telling now. Should he risk trusting her? He wanted to see Kingsley dead. Hell, he wanted to be the one who killed Kingsley. The bastard had threatened his Pride. That was unforgiveable. Protecting his Pride was a trait that was written into his DNA. That is why they were the only species of cat in which the females different from the males. Both perfect killers: females were streamlined for the hunt, males were built to fight and protect what was theirs.

Malik leaned closer so that he was invading her personal space. Lana could hear him drawing air through his nose and knew what he was doing. He listened and searched for changes in her, bring their bodies much closer together to drown out any foreign contaminants from the world around them. Still he found nothing in her scent that she said would reveal a lie. "No change," he rumbled quietly in her ear because he had drawn that close. He stepped away, retreating from her personal space now that he was satisfied. "No change.... That's supposed to mean you're telling me the truth." Malik looked her over while he stepped back and mulled over the offer she made. She didn't seem the type who liked owing people. That was something they shared in common. He also didn't like doing things on credit, because it left it open to the other person to make good. He couldn't hold anyone else up to the standards to which he held himself.

"A favor? I could always use another marker to call on, but that brings me to another concern. How do I know you're good for it?" This was where he excelled, getting what he was owed, getting what he wanted, getting what was his. "Everyone is more than willing to owe a favor to get what they want, but the chip is only as good as the person who throws it down. " His voice was that level baritone, only made deeper by his thick arms crossing over his chest. "I know you're good in a fight, but I don't know you. I can't ask the people I trust about your rep. Lana, the sexy red head werewolf, that's all I know about you. I don't even know how to track you down should I ever need to call in your mark. I'm guessing you're a ghost for the private sector. You're good at that, but it doesn't instill much trust in me." Trust was a risk and this man needed convincing she was worth the risk.

Her fingers curled in against the cement ledge of the rooftop. Her natural instinct was to strike out at anything that was close enough to harm her. She had to remember that he was a key to getting what she was after. So she let him draw nearer to smell her. Turning her own head slightly so that the traces of his scent wafted up to her nostrils; filling her senses with his proximity. He had a commanding presence, if only for his intimidating size. Towering over her like she was nothing as his baritone voice drifted into her ear; warm breath against her ear as the sound of his voice curled around her spine and sent shivers down her back.

“Svetlana... My name is Svetlana Kozlovski.” Turning around once he had stepped away, Lana tilted herself back until she was perched on the ledge; legs dangling over the edge and her back facing the open air of the short (but dangerous) drop behind her. “I also work for Umbra. They contract me to kill or retrieve. Sometimes both like now. I don’t kill unnecessarily and I don’t lie.” She could have killed him at the warehouse when they first met. Riddled his body with bullets the moment the back of the van opened. But that went against her own personal code of conduct.

“I can’t make you trust me. But if you refuse to help me, I’ll find a way to make you help me.” She was not above forcing a person to do what she wanted. Whether that was the instinct of a woman or something she had been trained to do, Lana was unsure. Canting her head to the side, she assessed him from where she sat. “So now you know me, yes?“ Her accent, while still Russian had faded much over the years. It was more evident when she was mad, but now she was merely calm and curious. She was going back over the things he had said; he thought she was sexy. That made her lips twitch into a barely noticeable smirk.

Svetlana? That sounded more like it. Lana fit her as a name, but Svetlana suited her perfectly. It wasn't a lie, that was her real name. Wives tales taught that people grew to fit the name that they were given, much like a liquid being poured into a container over time. He felt like a Malik Karver, and Svetlana Kozlovski felt like the name of someone who could hold their own as she had with him. The second piece of the puzzle was another thing entirely. "Umbra? That's pretty heavy business." he rumbled. Even though Umbra was a corporation, they handled themselves like the shadowy side of a ruthless government. People didn't claim to work for Umbra because they were afraid Umbra would find out.

He had done a few jobs for Umbra in the past ten years, but they rarely farmed out work. They had their own private army of soldiers and spies that they called security guards and consultants to keep the government off their backs. The only time they hired outside their staff was to maintain complete deniability should things go badly. She carried herself like the real deal up until now, and she just compromised herself to him. Whatever this assignment was, it was important to her. Important enough for him to hear a promise when she said 'make you help me' instead of a threat. That was a courteous warning. He had to admit that the woman had class.

He didn't answer her. Malik reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile. He turned it on, dialed a number, and waited three rings before it picked up. "B, it's me, I'm on the clock...... Remember that guy I asked you to keep tabs on for me last month? ....... That's the one. I need a full file on him. How long?....... Alright. Leave it in that spot where I took care of that thing for you last summer. And B, burn your phone, its compromised...... Yeah, you know I'm good for it." The conversation was quick, and over before there was time for anyone to get a trace on it if they were trying.

There was no doubt that Malik was taking her seriously. He made the call and set the ball into motion to get the information she wanted. He even took precautions to keep the identity of the person on the other end a secret, severed the trail that could lead back to them by destroying the phone, and kept the drop point a secret. There was no way she could know where it was going to be so she, or anyone else involved, wouldn't be able to intercept this 'B', or retrieve the information without him. Her marker was now his. "Your credit is good with me, but I want two things in addition. One, I want to know how to contact you so Umbra doesn't know you're identity is compromised....." , that was very smart on his part. Umbra might retire both of them if they felt her being compromised was a threat to them. "And two....I want my face to be the last thing Kingsley sees before you kill him. Do it however you want, but I owe him, and a Karver always pays his debts."

“Business is business. I do what I was raised to do.” A single shoulder lifting nonchalantly; a shrug that said it was no big deal. Lana had been raised to kill and to fight. She’d been taught to use her fear as a fuel to succeed in anything she did so that it would never overcome her. She had also been taught to use the fear of her victims. It helped her throughout the years to remember that the people she was contracted to kill were no longer individuals but instead names on a piece of paper. She never got involved in her target’s life nor tried to form a connection. Because then it became too personal and shit always ended badly. Never mix business with pleasure.

Silent throughout his conversation, green eyes tracked every movement he made; even down to the way his body naturally shifted as he stood there. “Deal.” She hopped off the ledge and strode towards him. It said a lot that she was willing to compromise with him; especially about something like this. Lana had just given him her full name and told him who she worked for. Reaching out with one hand, she would shake on it to seal the deal between them. When his hand clasped hers, the werewolf firmed her grip and pumped their joined hands a couple of times. “I’ll give you what you want. But I have my own conditions. If I find out that you’ve sold me out, I will kill everyone you love and then I’ll kill you.”

That would mean his entire Pride would pay for his stupidity. Her lack of emotional attachment to him or anyone else made it easy for Lana to make such a promise. “Are we in agreement, Karver?” She wouldn’t give him anything until he first made the deal and second delivered on his promise. She wanted that information more than she wanted this mutual respect between them. Men like Malik were rare, but they were not hard to find. Plus she was pretty sure that Flynn would understand if she chose not to use the werelion’s help. Sure he’d probably be pissed and threaten her with termination (which was more literal than most people thought) but she was positive that the old coot would have trouble finding and catching her first.

She threatened in his Pride. His life was always in danger, a fact that he accepted, but the lives of those in his pride were sacred. He valued them more than he valued his own. A lesser man would feel the need to answer such a threat. He'd be overcome by his own hint of doubt at his ability to protect them, and make threats of his own or boast about prowess. Thoughts of tearing down Umbra if any of them were touched never entered his mind. They were Pride because they protected each other, and each could protect themselves. He trusted that. He trusted them. He also trusted himself. Malik was strong enough to keep his word.

Svetlana was only talking shop and Malik respected that. Straight forward, honest, resolute, and determined, all qualities that he admired. She was strong enough to exist alone, and she offered up the one thing she had, herself. It was only fair that she balance that with the one thing Malik truly cared about, his Pride. The Lion had no intentions of ever betraying the trust she gave him, so there was no hesitation in movements when he took the hand that she offered. "Deal." he said with a firm grip engulfing her hand while he looked into her green eyes. Words had power, but truth was in actions.

Malik was glad that she hadn't opened fired the moment he opened the van door. He was glad that she stopped fighting once the banker was dead, so he wasn't forced to try and tear her open to survive. It was rare that he found people of ability who also had strong character. A rare find indeed. "We've got seven hours before the pack is ready and the drop is made." he said "Six for him to get everything together and drop it, one for him to get out of the area." There was no change in his scent, just the savory musk of a male who knew his worth. He let go of her hand and took back his own.

Looking around at the surrounding city he took in the late night cityscape and then glanced at his watch. "Its twenty minutes till eleven. Packet will be ready to pick up at 6 am. We've got time to kill until then. I'm guessing that you don't want to let your only lead out of your sight until then. Something could happen to me, I might try to take out Kingsley myself, or someone might try to black bag me in an attempt to get to you..... too many variables right?" Malik knew the game. He wasn't trained to be a spy, but he was smart and had a lot of common sense. "Seven hours to kill, Lana. How we spend it is up to you." He knew her true and rightful name but he went back to using the one she approved to give him. No, he wasn't stupid at all.

At least he was receptive to her words and regarded them not as a threat, but a direct promise. Lana understood very well that his Pride meant the most to him in this lifetime and that there was nothing more powerful than the reverence he held them too. She was not lost to such a pure devotion as that and could very well understand having a group of people so close to one’s own heart. Not from personal experience, no, but she wasn’t blind. “Deal.” But all she had to give him was herself. There was no one she was fighting for. No one to champion or to keep safe guarded from the world’s evil. Just the lone werewolf who had no personal attachment to any living or deceased creature.

Releasing his hand as he let go of hers, Lana turned away from him and strode back to the raised ledge of the rooftop. Seven hours she would have to spend in the company of a man that both confused her and intrigued her. Both curiosities which she could ill afford to look further into but hadn’t the courage enough to stay away from inspecting them. Biting down on her lower lip as she took in the twinkling lights of the city and her fingers tapped at the cement beneath her hands. “I don’t know…” She admitted rather shamefaced to him.

Lana didn’t have any spare time hobbies. If she wasn’t working then she was training. If she wasn’t training or working then she sleeping, eating or traveling across Terra like some restless nomad. Staying in a single place for too long tended to make the werewolf paranoid. “I don’t generally spend time with others unless I’m on a job. Even then it is very rare for me to engage in operations with a team. Do you have any suggestions?” Looking back at him; her head twisting just enough so green eyes could peer over her shoulder.

And there they had it.  A deal was struck and now the two of them were bond by it.  Malik waited for her to decide what it was she wanted to do, since she was the one that had the mission, but no ideas came.  Apparently she was so dedicated to her occupation that Lana had not developed a life of her own outside of the job.  He could sympathize with her.  It was only a decade ago that he was suffering the same way.  Having been born a soldier, it was all he was taught, so it was his life.  When the war was over Malik was lost.  It took time to find out who he was, choose his own path. 

 

"All work and no play, eh? ", he said to her as he moved closer so that he could lean on the ledge beside her.  It was a perfect night.  The skies were clear, there was very little wind, and the temperature was  just right.  "I know how it is.  It was like that for me too, when the war ended.  I was born and raised to be a soldier.  It was all I knew for 50 years, so when the war was over, and my unit disbanded I had nothing.  I spent the last 10 years finding my own path."  He looked over to her and the face was that of a young man, but the eyes told a different story.  They had watched the years pass, one after another, a great deal of suffering, and the twists and turns of life.  She knew the passion he held within, and saw firsthand the rage that lay dormant, but his eyes held a strange peace in them.  


   "So, you train, work, and prep for work.... You've got a job to do so let's go with what you know. Let's go to your place." he said, and then hopped up to crouch on the edge of the roof ledge.  He was ready to go just like that, then realized it probably wasn't such a simple thing for her.    "You don't have to take me home.  You have safe houses and staging places don't you?  Take me to one of those. " he said after turning back to look at her still standing there.  In true feline fashion, Malik acted as if the matter was settled, and moved on. 


He looked down finally, and leaned his head forward, as if to tell gravity it could have him..... for the moment at least.  He dropped off the side of the building, and plummeted like a rock towards the ground.  At the last moment he spread his arms out to stabilize his body, and make ready to land.  His legs were extended beneath him, but the moment he touched the ground they collapsed beneath him.  His entire body compressed like a spring, every muscle offering only a little resistance, to spread out the force of impact.  To watch him land, it seemed as if he didn't have a single solid bone in his body until he stood up.  Cats didn't jump from high places, nor did they ever fall.  They simply allowed themselves to drop. 


Malik turned his head upward to look back to Lana. He didn't call back up to her with anything trite like, 'are you coming'.  Why go through the effort of making side you were not followed or spied on only to give your position away by being loud?  The look said it all. She was on point so he would follow her lead for the time being.  He did however, have the good sense to get out of her way.  Malik took a few steps away, and waited by the wall of the far building.  Quietly he wondered where she was taking him and what it was going to look like. This was an opportunity to see deeper into and individual that started out as a worthy adversary.  It wasn't every day that an enemy became an ally. Usually it was the other way around. 

“I wasn’t born to be this way. But this is how I was raised.” Now they were getting too personal for Lana’s comfort. She had almost divulged to him her background and not because he had done the same to her, but because she had wanted to. How lonely she constantly felt that it was driving her to completely forget the self imposed isolation she had ruled for her life while working for Umbra. She looked daggers at him when he hopped up onto the roof’s ledge, decreeing that they would reconvene to her place. As if he was her Master, giving her no chance to voice an opinion, Malik leapt from the rooftop.

Lana watched him drop down to the alley below. Showoff, she thought as she mimicked him by hopping up to the ledge and then stepped off. She landed one foot at a time, ending up in a crouch with her fingertips pressing against the ground to balance out her weight as she settled once more on solid ground. “I don’t have a safe house,” she mumbled as she stood and began to lead him from the secluded alleyway. Her hands dipped into her pockets, she walked with her eyes cast down by the rest of her senses on high alert.

His footfalls weren’t far from hers before he caught up. Walking by her side with a sort of swag that only men who were confident in themselves had and a devil may care attitude. When they were stopped at a corner to allow a bit of traffic to pass before crossing the street, Lana happened at quick glance up at him. So long as he didn’t try to screw her over this night, then she had no reason to not trust him. It was a leap of faith that she was even leading him back to where she was staying. Not that it was any secret since she had nothing to fear. Lana was strong and confident enough in herself to be able to handle her own if trouble happened to come knocking on her door.

As they headed further away from the bar and got closer to her motel room, Lana’s shoulders visibly relaxed. It was the same place she always stayed when in Librium’s city. The same room too as it was especially reserved for Umbra agents. Lifting a keycard from the back pocket of her pants, the werewolf led her companion through the lobby of the two-story building and up a flight of stairs to the second floor. Hers was a room at the end of the hall with a door leading to an outside staircase on one side and an adjoining room on the other. The adjoining room was never rented to anyone as it wasn’t properly set up for guest.

Inside the room there was one double bed, table and chair, TV, microwave, mini-fridge and of course the bathroom. Her duffle sat at the foot of the bed, which was still immaculately made as she hadn’t slept since arriving in the city the day before. “This is where I usually stay when I’m here. Through that door,” she pointed to a closed door that connected to the next room. “Through there is the armory that Umbra keeps stocked for its employees.” Why was she telling him all this? Lana could be killed if Umbra ever learned that she was giving up some of its secrets.

Malik leaned against the wall and watched Lana's graceful descent to the ground to join him.  He enjoyed watching her, but he knew he wasn't going to enjoy what she was bringing with her.  He spend enough time around women to know when they were in a mood, even if there was no truly understanding them.   Her voice changed and so did the way she moved.  He knew that it was either something he did or something that head said to set her off, because all of her attitude was directed at him.  Maybe it was what he had said when he tried to find common ground.  Malik had trouble remembering that the wolves weren't 'bred' into the world like the New Breed.  


Wolves were born free, and had a choice in life of what path they would walk.  Malik couldn't imagine captivity after being born free.  The imagination was powerful, but there were somethings that it couldn't reproduce.  He was tattooed soon after he left the womb because he had 'passed inspection'.  You couldn't miss what you never had to begin with.  Malik made the walk in silence along side Lana, giving the time she needed to let her hackles fall.   He'd learned discretion was the better part of valor when dealing with females.  Women, wolves, cats, or what have you, some things were just universal.  


He kept his eyes open on the route, and when he realized they were heading towards a hotel, Malik pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket.  He shook it out quickly, put it on his head and then pulled the brim down snugly along his eye line.  A public place meant eyes, and sometimes those eyes belonged to someone who liked to tell stories.  If she worked for Umbra and they had her staying here, there was a good chance that people here worked for Umbra as well.  Between the collar of his jacket casually breaking the outline of jawline, and the cap obscuring parts of his face, they wouldn't be able to get enough for a positive id.  His clothes were always kept nondescript and common so they couldn't be used to narrow down his identity from surveillance footage.  Now all he had to do was keep an eye out for cameras and make sure he didn't give them a good shot, or enough bad shots for a composite rendering.  Good training was priceless.  


When they finally made it to the room Malik waited until she invited him in, and then moved about the room cautiously.  Lana would be able to tell that from the way he moved, he was looking for the signs of hidden cameras that normal people missed: lenses in things that people only glanced at, holes that were filled in, and spaces that should't be there.  Look at everything twice was the rule of thumb when in an unfamiliar place.  He'd escorted surveillance teams during the war, which meant he got to watch them work their craft.  Malik couldn't set up the complicated array of eyes and ears that they could, but he did make note of all the places they were fond of hiding them.  


   "Nice place," he rumbled towards the end of his self guided tour of her temporary abode.  With a look over his shoulder Malik saw where she pointed and said her armory was hidden.    "You mind if I take a look?  I'm curious to see what type of toys you get when you're on a corporate payroll."  He started towards the door, eyeing it up cautiously, first the floor and then the door frame.  Malik was looking for any tell tale signs of traps that may have been set to protect the  cache.  When he didn't see any hint of any he turned to look back over his shoulder at Lana, said,    "No comments about curiosity and cats please." , and then waited got her to open the door.  The real tour was about to begin.

Looking at his baseball cap and the way he’d flipped up his collar, Lana smirked just enough for him to see that she found amusement in his paltry disguise. “You have no need for the ball cap. Umbra already knows who you are. So long as you don’t run around telling secrets they won’t find need to…” well he could guess what she was getting at. Umbra hated snitches and did everything in their power to either defame the person doing the telling or completely eliminate them, like Lana had been contracted to do. “And there are no cameras in this room,” she pointed a finger down at the floor to indicate the room they stood in.

That would be just a total invasion of privacy for her. She still needed to keep some mystery there, between herself and her superiors. She also didn’t want them to know what she looked like without clothes on. Approaching the door to the armory, she motioned him aside and slid back the brass plaque on the door that displayed the room numbers. Behind it was a digital eye scanner that prompted her to stand motionless without blinking as a green laser flashed over both of her eyes. A brief pause while the data processed and then a robotically feminine voice welcomed her by name as a series of heavy bolts were released from their locked position. “Welcome to every killer’s paradise,” she looked back at him with a coy grin.

Opening the door, overhead fluorescent lighting blinked on to illuminate a room with heavy duty stainless steel walls and floors. Inside, the room’s three walls were each filled to capacity with various firearms of all sizes. A large table in the center of the room displayed several types of blades; daggers and swords of different styles and then bombs laid out by how powerful they were; weakest to strongest. Lining the walls on either side of the door was the combatant gear. Vest, helmets and even full body suits.

Lana took a step aside, allowing Malik entry into the room. She’d seen all this a hundred times or more and got to play with it whenever she wanted. “This is my playground.”

” “
”I said that I wouldn’t compromise you,“ he said when she mentioned his use of the cap and jacket to conceal his identity. ”When I say I’m gonna do something, I keep my word. “ That was law with Malik. He did everything he could to keep his word once he gave it. Malik stood back and watched as she slid the brass plate aside to reveal the retinal scanner. It was high tech, and brand new. The most tech he had was the Mule that they called home and that was a repaired war relic. Be that as it may, it was his. That meant more to him then all the shiny chrome and computerized voices in the world.

When the door popped open Malik waited for Lana to walk in and step aside. He stepped forward and poked his head through the door before stepping in and looked around. What he found was amazing enough to make his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. ”Is it weird to hear music playing in your head when you look at this?“ Slow steps took Malik around the room and he turned so he king gun could see it from every angle. There was every type of gun he could need on a job, from hand guns to long range rifles, and the typical BFG (big fucking gun). ”After seeing this I’m tempted to get myself a corporate sponsor. These suits must have some pretty deep pockets, and really long arms. “

A hand reached out towards one of the assault rifles, but before he touched it Malik looked back to Lana and asked for permission. ”Mind if I fondle your toys, Red?“ The smile on his face made him look like an innocent child, and he had just opened a toy chest. When he got the nod from Lana, he turned around, and wrapped his fingers around the body of the assault rifle. Moving over to the one table that wasn’t filled with perfectly placed weapons, he ejected the magazine, and pulled back the chamber to make sure it wasn’t loaded. Once it was safe, he stood with his feet planted shoulder width apart, closed his eyes, and went to work. Hands moved like methodic lightening. One piece at a time Malik field stripped the assault rifle, breaking it apart, and placed each one down meticulously.

Less than a minute later he opened his eyes, opened and he looked down at what he had done. One by one he lifted the pieces to the light and examined. ”Perfect….. Here I thought we could pass the time cleaning guns, and getting things ready for an op. If every gun is this clean we’re gonna have to find something else to do.“ He placed the last piece back down in the same spot that it put it before, and placed his hands down at either of the parts. Closing his eyes, Malik exhaled slowly, and then set into motion. The same amount of time that it took him to take the weapon apart was the same amount of time that it took him to put it back together. He opened his eyes once more and looked to her, ”Have any board games?“

“Don’t take offense to this, but I don’t trust you. Not yet, at least.” That was her only explanation for going back to the same subjects with them that they’d already discussed. Almost as if she couldn’t stress just how little she did trust the werelion. Not because of his heritage or his lack of affiliation with Umbra (which was a big part of it) but because that was simply who she was. Social skills had not been part of her training at the facility in Chernobyl, nor did Umbra require her to have them. She did not accept missions that required her to go under cover.

As he stepped into the room, Lana followed behind him but veered in the other direction as him. Malik was drawn to the bigger guns whereas she headed for the handguns. Two of them specifically were hers; the exact duplicates of the ones that she wore at that very moment. “I thought the same thing the first time I saw it.” She’d been struck dumb when she’d first been introduced to the armory. It wasn’t nearly as vast as the one back at Umbra HQ, but it was still impressive. This cache of weapons stored in plain sight and untouched except for the expert hands that handled them.

“Fondle away,” she murmured as she unzipped her jacket and pulled out the two Colt automatics. Lana was unaware of the pun that lay beneath Malik’s question. She only knew that by fondle he meant touch and by toys he meant the guns. Turning around with the two handguns brandished, she approached the table he stood at and laid both down. He caught her attention though. With his eyes closed and his hands working mechanically over the rifle as he disassembled it in perfect order.

She was silent through the process and when his eyes opened up to assess his work, Lana was standing behind and to the side of him. There was enough room between them for him to work without her being a nuisance. “Do that again.” The first time had been a pleasant surprise to watch, giving her an unrecognized satisfaction to see a man use his hands in such a way. This time as he reassembled the rifle in the same manner, Lana wanted to feel it again. “Board…games?” She looked questioningly at him as she paced backwards and then turned the corner of the table to where her two guns sat.

“Uh no. See, I’ve never had to wait seven hours for some information. So shouldn’t it be your job to…entertain me?” Looking up from one of the Colts, a slender brow rose questioningly at the werelion.

It felt good to let his mind go free of thought, and allow the rest of him to run on instinct and memory alone. The act of field stripping and rebuilding a weapon by muscle memory and senses alone was a form of mediation for Malik. During the war it was one of his few moments of Zen, his escape. Having had that moment of Zen Malik was refreshed, and looked at the red headed spy with new eyes. For a moment he thought he couldn't trust those eyes because he saw enjoyment. No, that was just his mind playing tricks on him.

"No board games, eh?", he said and then lifted the assault rifle from where he had placed it on the table. He put the weapon back on the rack from where he took it, and made sure the strap was perfectly laid the way it had been when he took it. A place for everything, and everything in its place. It was a soldier's way. "And you want to be entertained?" It was typical of a woman to want it all, but he was smart enough not to say that out loud. Women always said they wanted to be told the truth, but seldom did that end well.

Malik looked around for a moment, and then peeked his head out of the door to look at the inside of the hotel room. He saw what he needed. "Well..... we do still have that bottle of vodka from the bar. We could play a drinking game." He dipped back into the weapons room, took a bulletproof vest off of the rack, and then gathered up a handful of throwing knives off the table of blades. Back out in the hotel room he opened the closet door, draped the vest over the top of the door so that it hung on both sides, and then pushed the door closed. Malik took a moment to stand in front of the door and ran his hand over the vest. It was exactly as it should be. The vest wasn't made of plates, but of fibers that were woven together and dispersed the force of a blunt object when it impacted upon it. A blade's sharpened edge encountered no such resistance. It would part the fibers just fine.

"Here are the rules. It's a game of called shot. You pick a spot on the vest like heart, kidney, or lung between the fifth and sixth rib, and a type of throw. You can say underhanded, over handed, or eyes closed. If you call a shot and I hit it, you drink. If I miss. I drink." He reached into his coat and pulled the bottle of vodka from the inside pocket that he had it stored in all this time. The bottle was almost full since they only did four shots out of it. He set it down on the dresser and turned back to Lana. "If you don't wanna do that...." he said as he turned back to her, "....you wanna wrastle? "