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"Five days, Mr. Blandini." The smile was as audible in her voice as it was visible on her face, and she inclined her head graciously, almost sarcastically, before she gently pushed herself from the window sill into a standing position. "I suggest that when you get a spare moment, you take a look at your wardrobe. I don't appreciate representatives of my Family looking so ... untidy, if you will." Her gaze, sharp as daggers, speared the unfashionable man to his seat, sending shivers up and down his spine. He'd gotten himself into something big, here ... and there was no other way out but to cooperate with these horrible people. The woman winked at him - she actually winked - before turning and exiting the small office, followed by the dominating presence of the masked man accompanying her - but not before a final, warning glare that stopped him from thinking about alternatives. It was finally, completely clear to him that there were none. With a shaking hand, he picked up the cordless phone from it's landing spot and with his grubby, porky digits dialled in a number. "Mr. Scozzino, yes ... I was wondering if you could deliver me a few urgent items. I have a ... high priority ... customer ..."
Atanasia let herself out of the building, after jetting a quick glance around the interior of the warehouse. There were cargo containers piled upon one another, a forklift and a couple of metal cages sitting in a corner - everything was labelled deceivingly, and she smelt something like rotten fish - a particularly good way of deterring customs from searching shipments. Memories of her time in the weapons circuit flew to mind and were dismissed just as easily. She had a couple of things to do during the next 5 days, and would probably not be able to accompany Anton Phibes to the next meeting with Tomaso Blandini ... however, she knew exactly who she'd send.
<center>
Isi Salazar</center>
Better known as 'Hellcat' to most people in her life, the small Costa Rican had been Atanasia's friend since an incident in South America that had almost cost the two women their lives. About two years ago, the pair's misadventured timing landed them on a boat that was overtaken by pirates on the Amazon. Atanasia was there trading guns to an oppositional guerilla faction, where Isi was currying favour with the same people. They didn't know it yet, but they were about to become firm allies.
As the pirates waved their guns in the captain's face, the two women (formerly on opposite sides of the boat) found themselves climbing into the pirate's 'ship'. Unfortunately for them, their collision in the process of boarding the other vessel made their presence known, and all hell broke loose. Both women ended up with bullet wounds, but their boat floated free within seconds ... their only piece of luck seemed to be that the vessel in which they now found themselves hadn't been damaged.
Both bleeding and in need of serious medical help, the two women gunned the engine of the boat and sped in the opposite direction from whence they came. It had been a serious stroke of luck that the pirates had struck at sun down, but now the two found themselves on one of the longest rivers in the world without food, water, or a map. Three long days they searched for help, and finally found it in the form of 5 British would-be explorers, who had them helicoptered to Lima, Peru.
Months in hospital beds next to one another meant that the two became well acquainted. Eventually it became time to part, and Isi confessed to being part of another guerilla faction. Atanasia's beliefs and morals meant that she couldn't bring herself to associate with the Costa Rican any longer, and yet she left an offer - "If you ever leave this stage of your life behind, come find me in Italy, and I will help you set up a new life."
Isi had never thought this possible - a new life was something that was hard to find, and even harder to maintain, but Atanasia had done it, and now her guerilla past was whipping into the yester year. Now she was set up as a Seamstress in a beautiful house in the heart of Palermo, occasionally working for her friend and paying her back for what she'd done.
A knock sounded on the back door, and Isi looked up from the floor length ball gown that she'd been working on. An elderly woman with plenty of money to burn had placed an order, along with a fair few other regular patrons, leading Isi to suspect that there was some kind of masked ball going on soon, and that it would be attended by all the upperclass snobs who lived in the hills near her friend, Atanasia. She was just thinking about calling her to ask, when the knock had interrupted her, causing her to prick herself with the needle. Thankfully the fabric hadn't been stained, and the young Costa Rican stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking away the blood from the tip of her finger as she set the dress aside and dodged the piles of sewing in order to attain the hallway, and finally open the front door.
Beyond the door stood her stiletto heeled friend, flanked by a behemoth of a man who dwarfed her in size. Isi was sure her eyebrow rose ever so slightly in a questioning look that was directed at Atanasia, before she stepped aside and ushered the two in. She saw her friend warn the colossal man about there being pins everywhere, and to watch where he sat, before they disappeared ahead of her into the lounge, and she was left to shut the door and follow.
Isi: Asia, what're you doing here this time, and who's this? Do you want some coffee?
Her friend shook her head, just raising one hand, signalling that just the one cup would be fine. Isi nodded, silence ringing through her ears. Sometimes she wished she could hear her friend's voice once more, but ever since a land mine had deafened her, she hadn't regained her hearing. Sometimes she had trouble remembering how to form words, so they came out a bit stumbled, but generally she was eloquent and well-spoken. She consoled herself on those rare moments of disorderly prose with one phrase - 'Everyone makes mistakes.'
Atanasia: This is Dr. Phibes ... and I need to ask a favour of you.
Isi: A favour. Right. Name it.
And that was that - she was in, whatever it was. The debt was that great, she would go to the ends of the Earth for this woman, but it was not just that; the two enjoyed a relationship that could only be described as sisterly.
Atanasia: 5 days from now, Dr. Phibes and I were supposed to collect a shipment. Unfortunately, I can't make it ... I was hoping that you could?
The swarthy Costa Rican merely nodded, picking up her sewing once more as she eyed 'Dr. Phibes' once more. 'Asia really did pick up the strangest people in her travels. She seemed unusually close to this man however, and Isi wondered what was going on there. She was also curious about what lay under the mask, but brushed that aside as her friend spoke once more.
Atanasia: ... and I was wondering if you could whip up another suit for me? ...
Isi rolled her eyes, shaking her head ever so slightly as she glanced around the room at the piles of taffeta, silk, ribbon and satin. At the moment she really didn't have the time to do this favour and make her a suit. The woman made a flowing gesture that encompassed the masses of textile and shrugged. Atanasia grinned and winked, signing quickly back that she'd wait, before she picked up her small shot of coffee and downed it quickly. The young Italian/Romanian rose from her seat, the taller man following like a seemingly docile puppy - Isi did not believe this to be the case, and decided to probe her friend on it when they were alone some other time. She ushered them to the door, waving as they walked down the garden path. And that was the last she heard of them for 5 days, as she plowed her way through the roses and lemon meringue yellows of the dresses she'd been commissioned to make.
<center>
Atanasia</center>
It was quiet as they walked to the car, Atanasia deep in thought and Dr. Phibes quiet as ever. She'd wanted him to meet her friend, hoping that the two would get on. Instead it seemed that they were highly suspicious of one another, and that Isi planned to get a look under the good Doctor's mask. Atanasia made a mental note to warn her friend, knowing that it would do no good anyway - it was most likely that curiosity would kill the hellcat in the end.
"Isi's not bad, really ... She's a little suspicious of everyone, and then of course there's the deaf thing - a landmine, you know?" An uncertain pause, and the rush of words continued as the two slid into the low seats of the Jaguar and closed their doors. "How did it happen? Your face ... your mask ... everything?" She was vaguely scared of the answer, but she didn't exactly know why. Before waiting for an answer, she pushed the key into the ignition and started the car, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking space in record time. She'd tell Isi about the trucks later, the weapons and everything else. Perhaps she'd ring her tonight and the two could go out for a coffee. The look on her face told Dr. Phibes that the young woman wasn't quite ready for an answer to her question yet - perhaps in five days.
<center></center>
Five Days Later
As Atanasia sat behind her desk writing things out, Isi swung round on the chair opposite her, squeaking every now and then. The brunette was almost on the point of yelling at her friend, but decided against it - it was today that Isi was going to help her out, and she was insanely busy at that point in time. She spoke as she wrote out another line, her writing fluid and beautiful, having practised it for years until it was 'just so'. "Did you bring your car?" The answer was an affirmative, but Atanasia didn't see. Her friend fumed a little and then spoke out - she wasn't having a good morning, and didn't feel like speaking at that point in time.
"Yes. But somehow I don't think your friend is going to fit into it. Couldn't I just do the writing and you take him to this Michaelmas Holdings place?" Isi's half of the conversation was conducted in English, most likely to annoy Atanasia so that she'd stop writing and look at her friend. She did. "Then you'll just have to take my car, won't you?" Atanasia was fully aware that the Costa Rican had probably brought her car on purpose. It was a Mini Cooper - the old style Mini Cooper, which would only fit tiny people and most definitely not Dr. Anton Phibes. Isi made a face at her friend's reply and stood up from the chair as the Italian/Romanian muttered something that she couldn't see or decipher, as her vision had already plunged back to the paper. Isi made a very rude sign and swiped the keys off the desk from in front of Atanasia's own eyes, then stalked out of the room, going in search of Anton Phibes.
<center>
Isi Salazar</center>
The Raven haired Costa Rican found Anton Phibes buried in a book in the living room, totally engrossed - it annoyed her that the only thing she could gather this information from was his posture. His face was not visible, and his eyes were shaded by the brim of his hat. Then it just plain annoyed her that he was wearing a hat inside. She let the keys in her hand fall onto the bench and watched with a small amount of pleasure as Phibes' head whipped up and his eyes swivelled to her.
Isi: Well, Are we ready to go, then?
The eyes narrowed and the young woman almost wished she hadn't said anything. There was something infinitely dangerous about this man. She really didn't know what her friend saw in him, but there must be something in there. Somewhere. Maybe. The eyes threw daggers at her and she retrieved the keys, beating a hurried track back to the door of the room.
Isi: I'll be waiting at the car ...
~
The ride to Michaelmas Holdings was not filled with nonchalant chatter, but was flooded by Spanish music. The driving was, surprisingly, less aggressive and the young woman behind the wheel had slipped on a pair of driving glasses before she'd started the car, taking them from a small case kept inside her ever present handbag.
Although both suspicious and mildly wary of the man who now sat beside her, Isi maintained a completely emotionless face and kept her mouth shut - she let him alight from the vehicle first, and then followed him towards the warehouse, going over everything Atanasia had mentioned on this particular 'favour' - a portly man with bad fashion sense ... perhaps a customer for her? A curt reminder from her friend that if he hadn't dressed properly for this occasion, Isi was to reprimand him once more. The young woman almost smiled at this thought - she couldn't believe her friend was so hooked up on fashion when years ago she'd worn khaki cargo pants and a torn white t-shirt for days on end, her hair cut incredibly short and her feet clad in army boots. She brushed those memories away and returned to the job at hand, speaking for the first time to Anton Phibes.
Isi: The trucks and drivers should arrive in two minutes ...
Yay! I'm Done!
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