Thread: From Russia With... [Gwen x Methos]

Of course, it didn't take long for the media to get wind of the story, which grew into a national concern overnight. Every major news station relayed the same story, hour after hour, and ended it with We'll keep you updated. Nobody knew where Valerie Hughes was. Her friends had been questioned - rather, interrogated - by the police and the FBI, and finally the CIA, multiple times. In the end, Erin and Alicia could provide no useful information. They couldn't remember names or faces, and most of what had happened that night was lost to them they did remember the hotel they had gone to with the men, and it was Erin who recalled that their room had been on the sixteenth floor. They police had raided every room on the sixteenth floor, and found nothing substantial. A lost roll of film was discovered under one of the sofas, containing pictures of Erin also in her underwear and similar immodest situations as Valerie. There was a fingerprint on the roll but it was a dead end it brought up no matches. Additionally, the website produced no leads - when they traced it back to its center of operation, Valerie wasn't there. They had taken a few people into custody, but couldn't hold them for much longer without finding more evidence, and fast. It had been nearly seventy-two hours since Valerie had gone missing, and they were no closer to finding her. Now they have Bond on the case. A folder landed on the table in front of her, and Lena Malinovsky picked it up, surveying it's contents - various travel documents, photographs, histories - with some interest. What do you want me to do? she asked in an accented voice. Keep him from finding the girl, Mr. Petrowicz told her. Lena looked up, one of her eyesbrows arched. At all costs? If that's what it takes, yes, he said. Lena nodded - nothing more needed to be said, she understood what was expected of her. Perhaps if she had been given a choice, she might not have selected her current career, which was that of accomplished female assassin. But she was good at what she did, and it was far more appealing that what she had been doing before. Not many women could call themselves a prostitute-turned-assassin. Not that Lena was exactly content with her past, but still. It was in the past, and it would stay there, no longer a part of her. However, her previous occupation did give her a leg up on the competition, no pun intended. She knew how to appeal to men and women alike, she knew just what to say and how to act to get them right where she wanted them. Lena almost always killed them when they were sleeping. A bullet lodged deep in their brain, blood and body matter splattering the bed sheets and walls, and she would walk out, collect her money and wait for her next assignment. Easy enough. Lena never fired to kill on a waking man, if she could help it. She'd only done that once. No, no, it was far easier to manipulate them into bed - the stupidity of men often astounded as well as amused her. When they saw a beautiful woman, they no longer thought with their brains, but with their pricks. Where are you keeping the girl? Lena asked, out of sheer curiosity. She is taken care of, he said dismissively. Of course, Lena said, with a slight sigh. She perused the folder once more. James Bond. Nobody has ever stopped him before. I trust you to get the job done, Mr. Petrowicz said simply. If you are successful, you will be let go. You may consider your debt fully paid. Lena perked up. Really? The man jerked his head in a semblance of a nod. She stood up, grabbing the folder as well as her black coat, which she pulled on over a simple yellow sweater and blue jeans. Well, that certainly gave her more incentive to get the job done. Lena might've learned to live with her job, and all it's consequences - physical, mental, and emotional - but that didn't mean she wanted to do this forever. She was repaying a bullshit 'debt' to Petrowicz and company, one that she had been certain would neve really be fulfilled, until now. She wondered if Petrowicz was lying to her, but knew that it wasn't necessary she would've taken the assignment anyway, no questions asked, even without his promise. He must've been telling the truth. Bond has a room at the Hilton in St. Petersburg. Now, so do you, Petrowicz explained. You know what to do. It's getting late - he'll be wanting to get some sleep, you understand? Yes, of course she fucking understood. Lena forced herself to nod and keep her expression impassive. Funny, how she was still a prostitute in many ways. Really, the only difference was that now, she murdered them afterward, she thought bitterly as she turned to leave. Lena, Petrowicz called, and she looked over her shoulder. While I will hold your debt fulfilled, and you will be free to leave, I hope that you will stay. You are a valuable asset to the company. Lena narrowed her eyes. You want me to do something else, she stated. Petrowicz didn't get out of his seat - he remained behind his desk, his arms folded on top of his, his angular, handsome yet scarred face steeled into an impenetrable expression. We need you to transport the girl. Can we trust you with this? Yes, of course, Lena said. She is with Ivan, he told her quietly. After you are done with Bond, bring her here. Then we wait for daddy's money. He looked back down at his papers, which meant that he was finished and Lena was free to go. She did so, walking into the chilly evening air and immediately hailing a cab for the Hilton Hotel. About an hour later, Lena sat at the bar, her cocktail sitting untouched beside her. She was wearing a thin-strapped dress made completely of black satin with a low neckline, and matching black heels. Her hair was softly curled and fell around her shoulders, it's dark color complimenting her brown skin. She looked around, her skilled eyes checking for Bond every few seconds. She figured he would be here - the police had checked all the rooms, but that wasn't good enough for Bond he'd have to go and check them out himself, to find whatever it was the police had missed. All Lena had to do was stop him. If Bond really was a notorious womanizer, well, that shouldn't be so hard. Lena had all the womanly charms to catch Bond's attention - all she had to do was keep it long enough to get to bed, and tire him out, so to speak. It was a simple plan. Lena took a sip of her drink, taking some pleasure in the slow bitter burn of the vodka as it went down her throat. She crossed her legs, and waited.