Destiny cursed under her breath, a drop of sweat appearing on her forehead, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. If she didn't get these combinations right, she could be found, caught, and that would be the end of her. The FBI would be after her for turning mercenary, and the CIA would be after her for the death of their boss. She turned the last number on the lock of the briefcase and heaved a sigh of relief as it clicked and the lid swung easily open.
She reached inside with a gloved hand, snatching the blueprints and cursing under her breath as an alarm went off. With a swift movement, she had shut the briefcase and swung up into the ventilation shaft from where she entered the tiny room, shutting the grille with a soft click. Pulling her black mask down over her face, she slid noiselessly along the chute as the guards burst into the room below, guns drawn.
Misanthrope cursed as he rounded the bend, hearing the shouts of the guards. Obviously someone had reached the blueprints before he did. He wondered how they could have gotten past the guards, but shrugged slightly. Probably part of one of those so-called "agencies" which were really just chess games where the agents were expendable. He frowned a little, slithering along like a snake, his black mask only adding to his serpent- like movement.
He slid down past the grille, hoping silently that the guards didn't look up and notice him going past. The sound of bullets hitting steel shattered that hope and he moved slightly faster, hearing something up ahead and assuming it must be the one who made off with the blueprints. He kept close, watching the tiny figure ahead of him turn sharply. He followed, hoping that this unknown person knew the way out.
Cryptopath glared at the screen, watching the tiny figure snatch the blueprints out of the suitcase before slinking into the ventilation shaft with ease. He furrowed his brow slightly, tapping into the computer. The coordinates flashed briefly on the screen before vanishing and he swore loudly, checking for loose connections. If only he hadn't waited, they would have been there first, he was sure of it.
He fidgeted slightly in his chair, connecting a few loose wires, before casting a longing glance towards the desecrated remains of a Ford V10. It was a shame, he thought, that inventing and mechanics didn't quite pay off as well as this job. If they did, he wouldn't be in the mess he was now, on the CIA's Most Wanted list. Luckily, in all the jobs he pulled off, he'd worn a mask of some sort, of right now he'd be doing time at the big house. He glared again, before abandoning the computer and rubbing his hands together, settling down to work.
Nebooru cast a disapproving eye over the tests lying on the desk in front of her. Clearly, these students hadn't been taking notes, or paying attention. If they had, there wouldn't be quite so many bad grades. She took a sip from her mug, wincing at the tepid coffee before swallowing. If only she had decided to do something else other than become a genetics professor. Her true genius was wasted here. She could be out, researching more about genetics, or she could be an opera singer. Clearly, though, that wasn't going to happen, at least not yet.
The door creaked open and one of her sophomore students tiptoed to the desk nervously. "Yes? What is it?" she snapped, and the student cowered. "T-this just c-came for you, P-professor." She snatched it out of the unfortunate girl's hands, and with a wave of her hand and a brusque nod, dismissed her. She ripped open the envelope and frowned, reading the slip of paper enclosed, before pocketing it. She scowled slightly at the unwelcome news and sighed. Collecting her belongings, she pulled on her coat and walked out of the classroom, locking it behind her. She had a long night ahead.
Destiny stopped, tucking the blueprints into her shirt. Idly she wondered why none of the other mercenaries had done this job, but she shrugged a bit again. So much for 'Cryptopath', 'Misanthrope' or 'Nebooru'.she thought. She frowned slightly, wondering how on earth she was going to get out alive. She'd need a miracle, or at least someone who could get her out of here alive, maybe someone like the famous Misanthrope.
A movement behind her caused her to turn sharply and she peered into the gloom, making out a dark figure, taller than she was. Male, Caucasian, in his twenties, about six feet tall, possible a size nine shoe, a lightweight compared to what she was used to dealing with. She hazarded a guess, "The famous Misanthrope perhaps?" The figure stopped in its tracks and she saw she'd guessed correctly. She could hardly believe her luck. The white gleam of teeth flashed from the darkness before he spoke, his voice low, "And if I'm not very much mistaken you are the infamous Destiny." He bowed as much as possible in the narrow vent. "A pleasure."
Misanthrope took in the figure before him. Female, Caucasian, in her early twenties, about five feet five inches or thereabouts and maybe a size six shoe. He'd never been very good at guessing what other people were like behind the mask. He extended a hand and she eyed it doubtfully before shaking it. "So, you're the one who beat me to the blueprints." She flashed him a brilliant smile and he relaxed slightly. "Indeed I am." Her voice was low, a purr almost and if he had heard that outside of this, he could have sworn she was flirting with him. He mentally kicked himself, a gentle reminder not to mix business with pleasure. He nodded again, "Well, since we seem to be stuck here, shall we make the best of it?"
She frowned a little, "You mean look at the blueprints together?" He nodded and she considered it. "I'd have to kill you if I showed you, unless of course we teamed up." He smirked slightly, Destiny was known for her seriousness in her words and he took it as an offer. "I would be honoured to work with you, after all, you're Destiny, reputedly the most beautiful, talented and seductive spy there is." He stepped slightly closer, "But would you be willing to work with trust me?" She smirked, stepping so she was right up against him, again with the purr, "I think I could handle that, after all, with our combined skills, we could have whatever we want." She put the emphasis on the last three words and he shivered imperceptibly. Tonight was indeed starting to become interesting.
Cryptopath flinched as he saw who was ringing his cell phone. He picked it up and held it three inches from his ear before answering. "Hello?" A shrieking came out of the phone and he grimaced, before nodding, "Yes dear, of course dear. Don't worry dear, I'll have everything ready." He sighed, hanging up and grumbling softly to himself as he finished typing up his last paragraph. "Just because I work at home on this all day doesn't mean I have to cook dinner."
He frowned a bit, shutting his laptop and wandering to the fridge. He looked through the shelves without much interest and shrugged. What did he care what they were having for dinner? He pulled out the box of pasta and a bottle of ready-made sauce, filling a large pot with hot water. He turned the knob on the stove and set the pot on it, wandering off and grumbling to himself again as he tidied up, putting away the desecrated remains of the Ford V10.
Nebooru got out of the car, pulling her house keys out of her purse as she walked up the path. She fumbled with the lock, growling softly in frustration when it stuck a little. Kicking the door gently to loosen it from the frame, she stepped inside, pleasantly surprised to see the house tidy for once. "Darling?" she called and her husband stepped out of the workroom, wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Hello dear," he spoke quietly, reaching out and touching her cheek gently before pulling her close and kissing her gently. She smiled a little before sniffing, " ?"
He nodded and took her coat, hanging it up before leading her to where he'd set up a candlelit dinner. She smiled and leant over, kissing his cheek. "Sometimes, you are just too much." He grinned, "Always happy to do it for you my Angel of Music." She blushed at the pet name and sat down. He fiddled with the remote and some soft classical started playing. She sighed contentedly, "You always know how to get me to relax." He grinned a bit and gestured to the pasta on the plate. "Shall we?" She nodded and they began to eat, talking softly, just another couple in a suburban home, eating dinner.