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M.S.R.P. II • View topic - Heist - "Pistols and Prostitutes"

M.S.R.P. II

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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 5:55 am 
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Intermediate
Intermediate

Joined: Tue Apr 11, 2006 11:07 pm
Posts: 63
Location: Los Angeles, California
*Three years prior to moving to Italy*

[ The Job ]

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in Bel Air, California. The sun was bright overhead and shimmered over the ocean and landscape. Presently, the twenty-three-year-old Miss Angelina DeSalle was lounging by the pool of her late husband’s spacious abode, quietly tanning in her bikini and reading a mystery novel. A strawberry margarita was held in her free hand, which she sipped at idly every now and then. All in all, she was enjoying herself immensely. The sun was warn on her skin, the birds were singing nearby, and she quite liked how the plot of her book was turning out. However, her delightful contentment was shattered by the loud ringing of her cell phone, which she’d left on the ground beside her. She gave a frustrated sigh and noted the page she was on in her book before closing it and looking down at the phone to see who it was. The front display read “Restricted Number”.

Breathing a disgruntled groan, Angelina reached down and picked up the little silver phone. She flipped it open and put it to her ear. “Hello?” she asked lazily, resting back in her lounge chair again as she waited for the caller to reply. “Angelina, this is Alpha,” a low, implacable male voice finally said, “You do remember me, don’t you?”

Angelina blinked. The alias “Alpha” belonged to her old employer. He was the head of an organization of skilled assassins in Los Angeles, called i-Temp. When Angelina had been working there, she was one of his top employees. However, that was more than a year ago now. She hadn’t heard from him ever since she left the organization last year in order to marry the husband she killed the previous summer. It was quite a surprise hearing from good ‘ole Alpha now. “Yes, of course…” she replied tentatively, “Although, I haven’t the faintest idea why you’ve contacted me,” she continued thoughtfully, suddenly sounding a good deal more alert.

“We have a job for you. I know you’ve resigned, but we need you. And I can assure you, it will pay well,” Alpha explained coolly, his voice unnervingly calm and sly. “You will be sent to Bogotá, Colombia. A prominent politician there has been causing a good deal of trouble. His name is Alexander Vega, but is more commonly known as The Barracuda. Because of him, the country has been torn to pieces by war. He has also taken to selling extraordinary weapons to a number of our enemies, terrorist groups mostly. He must be stopped. Do you accept?”

Angelina considered not taking the job for a very brief moment. But it just sounded like far too much fun to pass up. Plus, she could do with a bit more money. “Yes,” she answered simply, much to her former boss’s delight.

“Your plane leaves tomorrow evening at nine ‘o clock. Good luck.”

Well. It looked like break time was over.

[ Bogotá ]

By 9:00am next morning, Angelina was all packed and ready for her little trip. Of course, she was traveling light. This job wouldn’t take long. She wasn’t even bringing any weapons. You see, she didn’t even need to be armed for this mission. She’d done a bit of research on Mr. Vega and found that he quite enjoyed the company of prostitutes. All she had to do was dress up like a whore, get him alone, play up the sexiness to get him off-guard, then break his neck. Easy as pie.

The dark-haired seductress spent the afternoon basking by the pool again. She liked to relax before going on a mission. It had always been a sort of ritual for her. It cleared her mind and rested her body. And when she arose, she always felt energized and alert, and in the perfect mind-set to coolly kill someone. But by the time six ‘o clock rolled around, Angelina was up, dressed, and speeding off to the airport with her luggage in tow.

At precisely nine ‘o clock, her plane departed for Bogotá, Columbia. i-Temp had paid for her airfare and even seated her in first-class, so Angelina was quire comfortable. She spent the flight sipping at a glass of fine champagne and napping. Her plane finally arrived at ten ‘o clock the next morning. By noon, Angelina had gotten to her hotel, also paid for by i-Temp. She didn’t bother unpacking her things since she’d just be going back home again late that night. Instead, she called up some room service for breakfast and ate. In the distance, she could hear people shouting and guns going off. In was indeed a war-torn country. But that would make her job all the easier. The police were off-guard and much too busy to come quickly to the death of a politician. Most likely, Angelina would be on her plane back to California by the time anyone noticed he was dead.

That afternoon, Angelina treated herself to a few drinks at the hotel bar then went out to get familiar with the area. As she suspected, chaos was everywhere. Bullet holes riddled the buildings and the police were running about shooting up homes, restaurants, and even hotels. It was complete and utter madness, and all apparently due to the Barracuda. Angelina really didn’t feel that bad about killing the man.

Around three in the afternoon, she headed back to the hotel to get ready. Luckily, none of the police tried to stop her on her way as she walked through the dusty roads. And finally, she got back up to her room and headed into the shower. When she got out, she fixed her hair in loose waves and let it stay down to sway softly about her waist. She’d always been told she looked sexier with her hair down anyway. She then put on a touch of black eyeliner and a hind of deep red lipstick before going to her suitcase. From it, she pulled out a sort of black leather dominatrix get-up, along with a pair of handcuffs and a black riding whip. Sighing softly and shaking her head in disbelief, she began to pull on the provocative outfit. She tightened the corset around her torso and bust, pulled on the fishnet stockings, garters, and all the rest, then slipped on a long black coat over it. She couldn’t very well go out in public like that. She then got into some leather boots, slipped the handcuffs and whip into a purse, and headed out of the hotel to meet the Barracuda.

[ The Kill ]

After a short taxi ride, Angelina found herself standing outside an immense estate. She went to the door and was greeted by a beefy bodyguard who was built like a refrigerator. He scowled down at her and allowed his eyes to trail up and down her slender form. She obligingly unfastened her coat to let him see the outfit. His expression did not change but he allowed her inside. Apparently he was used to seeing scantily clad women coming to see the politician he was guarding. Angelina gave a charming smile and sauntered through the door. She looked over the man briefly and noticed a silenced handgun tucked into the back of his pants. Perfect. Her job just got even easier.

Before she took more than a few steps inside, the man stopped her. “Hey, wait a minute. Lemme see what’s in your bag,” he muttered, motioning her over. She obliging willingly and unfastened her purse for him. But just as he was about to look inside, she slyly dropped the handbag on purpose. The bodyguard thoughtlessly knelt down to pick it up and, when he was low enough for her to get a proper reach, she took his head in her hands and gave a sharp, precise twist. His neck broke and his body fell limp. Smirking, Angelina knelt down and grabbed the gun along with her purse. She slipped the pistol into her purse and straightened. With a flick of her dark hair, she went upstairs and easily found the master bedroom. The room was spacious, but hideously decorated. Angelina wrinkled her nose in distaste but continued inside. From the attached bathroom, she heard the sound of gargling and spitting. Then, from the door of the bathroom, a man walked out. He was slightly pudgy and had black, curly hair and dull eyes that were glazed over with intoxication and drug-use.

It was disgusting, but Angelina looked as if she wanted to devour him. She must have been a very good actress… Tossing him her sexiest smile, she motioned him forward. He smiled ravenously and eagerly came. He then circled slowly around her, eyeing every curve and every inch of her figure. “You Carlotta?” he growled lustfully, finally turning to face her. Although, he still wasn’t looking at her face. His eyes continued to wander.

Carlotta? Hm. Angelina must have beaten some other real prostitute to the job. Well, why not play along? Smiling charmingly again, she nodded. “Of course…” she purred. In answer, he nodded slowly, grinned, and shoved a fairly thick wad of bills into her hand. Well, that was an unexpected perk. He was paying for his own murder. Smiling sweetly, she walked away from him to stand by the bed. She opened up her purse, shoved in the wad of bills, and pulled out the whip. Turning back to him, she smirked and fingered it silently, eyeing him expectantly.

After a few moments of hasty foreplay, Angelina had the all-powerful Barracuda in his boxers, on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back. The poor man still thought that this was just a game. Smirking quietly, Angelina paced back and forth behind him, still clothed in the black leather. “Have you been a naughty boy?” she purred, trailing the whip across his back. The man could hardly bring himself to answer. Blinded by arousal and longing, he answered with a whimper and a groaned, “Yes…”

Angelina smirked again and shook her head. She didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up. Luckily, Mr. Vega couldn’t see her expression. She snapped the whip lightly against his back, causing him to growl with lust. Another harder snap of the whip brought a deep groan from the man’s lips. “And… Have you been selling big weapons to bad people..?” she continued quietly. At this, the man’s quivering body tensed and the chief sign of his arousal fell limp. But before he could even realize what trouble he’d gotten himself into, Angelina had pulled the silenced pistol from her purse and shot him in the back of the head. Blood spattered and pooled on the plush carpet, but the charming assassin paid little notice as she pulled her coat back on and buttoned it up. She unfastened the cuffs from the man’s hands, stuck them inside her purse with the gun and whip, then stepped over the politician’s corpse to be on her way. Within mere moments, she had left the house and was on her way back to the hotel. And within a couple hours, she was getting on a plane to head back home.

Requests:

- the reader’s enjoyment of my modest heist
- x amount of money paid by i-Temp for job
- x amount of money given by Alexander Vega (see paragraph four of “The Kill”)
- waved airfare (i-Temp would have paid for her airfare)
- the mentioned pistol with silencer

|ooc| I wasn't sure where to post this, so I hope this was alright.

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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 10:12 am 
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Professional
Professional

Joined: Sun Feb 12, 2006 7:43 pm
Posts: 270
Requests:

- the reader’s enjoyment of my modest heist APPROVED
- x amount of money paid by i-Temp for job APPROVED
- x amount of money given by Alexander Vega (see paragraph four of “The Kill”) APPROVED
- waved airfare (i-Temp would have paid for her airfare) APPROVED
- the mentioned pistol with silencer APPROVED

I enjoyed the heist very much, it was of good quality, and I look forward to perhaps reading more of your pieces. i-Temp gave you $55000.00, Alexander Vega gave you $15000.00, you get the silencer and pistol, and the waved airfare. Do enjoy.

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