2011-07-21: Angel Ica Part 1

Players: Jordan Mayfair and Zoya

JordanM_icon.jpg Zoya_icon.jpg

Summary: Jordan meets up with Zoya and hires her for a new assignment.

Date: July 21, 2011

Log Title: Angel Ica

Rating: PG

NYC - Alphabet City

Alphabet City used to be the slums of New York City, but now it's a trendy part of the East Village. Its name comes from the Avenues having single letter names. Apartments have been renovated into nightclubs, restaurants, and retail-establishments. Even though this part of the city isn't home to as many of the low income and artists residents, it still holds a Bohemian feel.

Seated at the outdoor section of the Life Café, Jordan Mayfair dressed rather inconspicuously in jeans and a black T-Shirt with an intricate tribal design. He sits sipping on a rather strong smelling alcoholic concoction. As he stares across the street at the Fortune Theater, as a limo pulls up and some bodyguards scatter the area. Jordan looks at his watch. It has been sometime since he has seen Zoya, as she’s been busy. He has arranged this little meeting to see how his little assassin has been and, of course, continue the working relationship. By his legs are the table is a small little dufflebag.

Zoya has never been the type to make an appearance when any old person requests it. No, a person had to have some serious sway with her before they could ask to see her, and she would actually make a point of being there. With the amount of blood already on her hands from such previous arrangements, she'd be doing herself a disservice to ignore such a call, even after all of this time. She doesn't arrive in the luxury of a limo, she doesn't even pull up in a cab or on a bus. This woman, she walks. Her path is rarely direct, yet after some time has come and gone, the city has delivered one dark-haired assassin. She takes a seat across from you without a word, blackened sunglasses hiding the peculiar hue of the eyes lurking just beyond. Still no words are offered, looking more expectant than anything.

<Hello, my little assassin> Jordan offers in Russian when Zoya sits at the table. He snaps his fingers as the waitress rushes over and serves Zoya a drink. It is the same alcoholic concoction that he is drinking. The waitress nods her and head and then rushes off silently. It is clear from the feared expression on her face, that she has encountered Jordan before. “It has been quite some time that I’ve seen you. But all your assignments have proven successful, but still a personal meeting is always good between employer and employee. He kicks the duffelbag over to Zoya. “A gift.” In the bag, she will find a large amount of cash, a slight increase from what Mayfair pays her per assignment, a laptop, communication devices, and a small gun. It looks like an antique actually. Across the street, the limo door opens and out steps a youngish looking starlet, Angel Ica. Jordan looks her way and then back to Zoya.

Zoya only starts to show any sign of being a person in there instead of a robotic shell once spoken to, inclining her head slightly in acknowledgement to the greeting. «There is not so much little about it any longer,» she responds with the start of a malicious smirk. She doesn't turn down the free drink, barely noticing the waitress as she sweeps on through around the two. «There have been no complications that could not be taken care of,» she confirms. Her cooperation simply in showing up is probably agreement to the second point, as well. When the bag is kicked over she nonchalantly reaches down and catches hold of it, drawing it partway beneath her own chair. More cash and toys to stock her dwelling with, even if the toy inside is a small one. Only when your attention wavers off to the side does her own drift away from you, seeking out the item or detail that caught your interest. By the time she's looking back to you, one of her eyebrows has inched upward. «That one, too?» she plainly inquire

“Yes. That one also a present.” Finishing his own drink and then reaching for Zoya’s. “Though many may know who she is, I will fill you on. That is Angel Ica. A model and upcoming songstress.” People cheer for the model and scream her name. Many little girls are dressed similarly and one woman faints clutching a picture of Angel Ica. Security quickly whisk her into the theater. Shaking his head at the throngs of fans and papparazi, Jordan sips the drink. “This assignment is a bit more personal for me and so I wanted to see you personally deal with it. Extinguish Ms. Ica’s star before it brightens too much.” His tone is a bit more angered than usual, so it is clear that Ms. Ica has committed some personal grievance to Jordan. “She is rehearsing for some appearance she will be giving at the theater. I have arranged for the staff of the theater to be busy. Only Ms Ica and her entourage will be in the green room. Do with the others as you will, but kill Ms. Ica with the lovely little handgun in your bag.”

Zoya hears you out, in part all too curious as to why some fancy-dressed and far-overpaid spotlight hound got so far under your skin like that. Not that she -asks- about it, but for one with the power and resources that you have… This one must really be personal. And with a special weapon for the job, too. That's enough for her to sneak a peek, more getting an idea of the weapon in question by touch rather than revealing to the rest of the world that the bag contains things that it probably shouldn't. An undisclosed number of simpletons, and one called shot to the up and coming musically inclined bitch. Simple, but it sounds like it would make for a good run. Been a while since she's had a chance to do anything so domestic, at that. This city needs to be reminded of her presence, living amongst the millions like a barely contained plague. In an instant, her mind is settled. «When?»

One would think even for something as simple, any ideal employer would give his personal hitwoman some time and preparation. However, Jordan is not so. He knows Zoya can be creative and enjoys some fun on her assignments. So with little time to spare, Jordan finishes off the second drink that had been for Zoya, “Now.” He eyes the theater and then his watch setting off a timer. “The quicker she is killed the higher your reward will be.” Tapping his mind, he speaks telepathically to her. “I will be mind-linked with you, of course.” The crowd of fans and supporters near the theater begin to disperse, though a few loyal followers remain, kneeling at the entrance and crying and praying to Ms. Ica.

Zoya figured the response would have been 'now.' What she didn't count on is that you've effectively turned this into a game. One that almost immediately gets a familiar surge of adrenaline going through her veins. Now. And fast. The bag is closed as she gets out of her chair, abandoning it without pushing it in. The pack gets slung across her shoulder as she sets off into motion, casing the building with every step towards it she takes. Alleys, balconies? Windows on the second or third floor? Or maybe she should just push her way right through the front and let any sense of caution die a fast, agonizing death. No..she's not going for stealthy. This one's gonna be high-profile. The cold look in her eyes may remain hidden behind her chosen lenses, though the wicked glint of a smirk is left open for the world to discover. She's going in through the front, to hell with whomever tries to get in her way. As she had explained so long ago, she does things quick. Not subtle.

(OOC Note: At some point, we will finish the scene.)

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