Different places; from Friday Evening to Sunday Evening
It was a dark, somewhat gloomy bar nearby Hardvard. Emily found it to be quite good if you wanted to pretend you were someone else, and her make up with straight hair and hair dye combo already made her look pretty different. Now it was just a matter of finding the right time to make contact.
Daniel Grayson was sitting with another person not too far ago, obviously drunk. "The Marriage... of Heaven and Hell, by William Blake,” he said as he looked at the good looking girl sitting with him. ”William Blake, the poet,” he added as he smiled.
The girl rolled her eyes at him. “I know who that is. I took Brit Lit last semester.”
Daniel smiled back. “All right. Very good. Listen.” He took a more serious stance, although it was still a pretty sorry drunken attempt to look well read. Not that Daniel didn’t sound well read. Also drunk, Emily noted again. “If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.”
The girl gave him a meditative stare. “And that applies to you how?”
Daniel nodded softly. “Infinite freedom; that’s what I want.” He then carried on. “I'm weighed down by my father's expectations, my mother's disapproving eye, but mostly by the world's perception of what it means to be a Grayson.” Emily raised her eyebrows at this. Interesting.
But Daniel was still speaking. “I don't want to be limited by all that for the rest of my life.”
Emily kept acting as if she wasn’t paying attention, but she had listened every single word the two had said. “Hey, studybug.” Emily looked up; the pretty girl was calling her now. “Settle an argument for us.”
The girl then pointed her finger at Daniel. “Do you know who this man is?” Emily knew who he was alright.
“Nope.”
She smirked at her. “He is poised to be one of the richest men in America.” Emily arched her eyebrows, perfectly mimicking actual surprise.
“Wow.”
The girl nodded. “But he wants to throw all that away and become a penniless poet. Now, I think he's crazy. What do you think?”
Emily shrugged, preparing her fake accent for long sentences. “I think you should ask someone else,” said, a thin smile in her face.
To this, Daniel finally reacted. “Oh, no, no, no. We want to ask you. I mean, I can't be who I am and a poet at the same time. My parents would never allow it,” he said, and then laughed.
Taking a thoughtful stance. Emily stood up and sat next to them. “You want people to see something different when they hear your last name? Make ‘em see it. Be better than your parents.” She smiled. “There ain’t nothin’ more poetic than that.”
Daniel smiled at her, and he was about to give her what she didn’t doubt was a witty drunken retort when her friend pulled him away; apparently this one wasn’t drunk enough to get all philosophical, but that suited Emily just fine. She just waved at them as they left.
After that little exchange at Harvard, Emily had received a text from Takeda; just a plane ticket (first class), a name in Russian and an address. Emily didn’t need more information to know this was when her little dresses came in play. The message was pretty obvious; get the information regarding the name, and everything that has to do with it. She then got a second message with another address. That was where they would meet afterwards.
But first, Emily had to pay a visit to certain lovebirds. Then she would get into whatever crazy antics her mentor wanted her involved.
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Saturday night she walked into the bar, her black dress doing a great job at showing her off. Which was intended, but still, whenever Emily wanted to dress to get men she usually wasn’t trying to sneak into a human cell mafia at the same time. Walking slowly, she spotted a bartender. Good looking, but too tense and attentive to blend in the way bartenders were meant to. Still, she had nothing better to get information out of.
Closing in, she read his name on his pin. “Dobry Vecher,” Emily muttered. That was Russian for good afternoon. The bartender had been staring at her since she had arrived; another reason to try and get information from him. “Doesn’t suit you,” she said.
“What,” he asked with caution. Okay, so he was really tense. What was her deal? Not that Emily cared all that much.
“The bow tie. Or the Russian accent?” Emily pretended to think for a moment. “Both.”
The man shrugged almost imperceptibility. “Well I’m your servant. So, uh, what do you fancy, comrade?”
“Vodka.” Emily supposed she should be drinking something that made sense with the context. Also, she liked vodka.
“Okay, alright.” He got right to it. “So…you got a name?” Oh great, he was hitting on her or something. So not the time.
“Yeah; Sergei Ivovsky,” Emily said, suppressing a smile when she said the face he made. “You know where can I find him.” The man assessed her seriously, perhaps for the first time.
“Now that doesn’t suit you.”
Well that was unexpected. “What?”
“Your profession.” Okay, at least she looked the part, Emily thought. The man kept talking. “Sergei is in the V.I.P area with the other girls.”
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Emily headed to the V.I.P area as instructed, but when she got there she realized things had already started; a lineup of pretty (and desperate looking in some cases) girls was already being judged like cattle to be sacrificed…and maybe the allegory didn’t hit too far from reality.
“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” was all the man was saying as he looked at the girls up and down.
“You.” He stopped in front of the one that looked more hopeless. “You’re trembling; Dimitri will like this. Clean off your face and let me look at you again.” The he turned to face the rest of the girls. “The rest of you…”
But Emily wasn’t paying attention anymore. She had her way in now. Finding the girl wasn’t complicated; she was crying inside of one of the bathroom stalls, clearly trying to will herself to get out of there again.
Emily knocked the door. Nothing. She knocked again. “Pease, please, go, go.” She then kept saying ‘go go’ in a teary, sobbing loop.
Emily sighed. “It's your first time, isn't it?”
Silence, then the girl answered. “Who are you?”
“A friend, if you let me be,” Emily said patiently.
“I don't need friends. I need money.”
“There are other ways to make money,” she assured the girl.
There was rage in the girl’s voice when she spoke again. “Do you think I'd be doing this if I hadn't tried everything else? An M.F.A. in art history is useless in this town. At least here, I can use it to talk about Kandinsky.”
Well, talk about hitting rock bottom. Emily was starting to lose her patience. She needed to scare her just the right way. “The man that you're auditioning to meet is named Dmitri Bladov. He traffics in women, the younger the better. That's why they want you with no makeup.” A pause, but the girl said nothing. “You want to end up another victim?”
“I just want to pay my rent, maybe get a job in a gallery somewhere,” said as the sobbing took over the ire again.
“Then do that. Take this,” Emily said as she passed a pretty fat wad of money through the top of the stall. It had a number written on a paper attached to it.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because you’re gonna help me, too,” Emily said. “Find out exactly when Dmitri is expected to arrive, then text the information to that number. Tell Sergei that you want to go buy a new dress before you meet Dmitri, and get the hell out of here. Don't ever come back.”
Emily then left quickly. By the time the girl named Ashely Davenpont looked out of her stall she would find nobody there.
Back in the bar, she stopped by to wait for the text.
The bartender was staring at her.
“You didn't pay for your drinks.”
Cute. Emily sighed; she really didn’t want to put up with this guy. “Put it on Sergei's tab.”
The man kept on staring. “You don’t know Sergei; you didn’t speak with him. I watched you.”
Alright, he was better off trying to hit on her. This was just creepy. “Keep your observations to yourself and there'll be a big tip in it for you the next time I see you.”
“And when will that be?” He asked.
That’s when her cellphone buzzed, and the information she wanted from Ashley appeared. “Tomorrow.”
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At the warehouse, Takeda was waiting.
“Your father would be proud.”
Emily was just fast enough to keep the cringe of hearing those words to herself. It was almost Thanksgiving in her own world. “I don’t like this time of the year.”
He nodded slowly. “Then your mission should provide needed distraction. Are you afraid?”
Emily considered this. Seriously considered it. Then she thought about her life, and her now ‘life’ in Fandom. “No. I’m ready.”
Takeda nodded again, ever the mysterious mentor. “How are your plans against the Graysons?”
She was stuck in another dimension and that had made things difficult, but her hatred could more than different worlds. Still, Emily shrugged. Natalie would be proud. “On schedule. I've severed all ties with Nolcorp, closed all my bank accounts, set up six dummy fronts, one of which just bought a building on 57th street.”
A pause, and then Emily produced a folio with pictures in it. “Turns out Conrad Grayson is sleeping with one of Victoria's best friends... Lydia Davis,” said as she pointed to the blonde embraced in a pretty intimate hug with the man that had ruined her father. “I was working on a strategy to turn their infidelity into my entree. That was...”
Emily looked at him, totally judging Takeda for a moment. “Before you gave me this diversion.”
Takeda ignored her like a boss and then handed her another folio. “Her name is Colleen,” he said. “She was kidnapped and sold by Dmitri Bladov... 1993.”
Emily didn’t even feign interest. “Did they find her?”
“No.” Need he say anything else? Takeda moved on quickly, passing her a little skin colored thing. “With this device, we will be in constant communication. Get Dmitri alone and find me access.”
Emily looked at the hearing device. “And then what?”
“Then you're free to return to your true cause.”
Emily walked right back into the club, silently musing about how the human trafficking business didn’t even stop on Sundays, when she spotted the bartender. Staring, of course.
“You look transformed,” he said, sounding tense.
“Everything looks different in the harsh light of day,” Emily said, already annoyed. Seriously this guy.
“Which makes it even more evident why a girl like you shouldn't be here.” Emily just eyerolled at him. Strongly.
That didn’t deter him though. “I'm serious. You shouldn't have come back here. Not today.”
Emily had enough of the guy. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” She then left him, not giving him a chance to keep talking, and approached the seriously looking, obviously Russian dude not too far away.
“Excuse me; are you Sergei?”
The man shot her the dirtiest look Emily had received in some time. “Da.”
Emily pretended to shy away a bit. “I’m sorry to bother you. My roommate, um, she’s not feeling well and she wanted me...to tell you that she won't be able to meet with Dmitri today.” A pause, and an apologetic smile that wasn’t really going to work. She was counting on that. “I hope that doesn’t screw things up for you.”
Sergei was having none of it. “But it does screw things up with me.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. She’s sick.”
The man half-smirked at him. “Tell me you will fill in for her. It pays three thousand dollars.”
Well now, that was exactly what Emily wanted to hear. “Tell me how old are you.”
Emily smirked. “For three thousand dollars? How old do you want me to be?”
The man’s cellphone buzzed. “Put your hands over your shoulders. Dimitri is here.”
Emily did as told, her mind going back to the weekend with the flying japapeños while some random Russian dude felt her up shamelessly. It was over not a second too early. He then motioned her to follow him. “Bring the vodka to the table. And don't be drunk when he takes you to the back room.”
Emily nodded, and then whispered. “Takeda, can you hear me?”
Takeda’s voice came in her ear. “Yes. What do you see?”
Emily scanned the room quickly. Nobody was paying her attention, which was good. “At least five armed guards. Possible Russian militia. Dmitri's on his way in from the back entrance.”
Takeda sounded only slightly appreciative when he answered. She was going a good job, she could tell. “Good, let him take you to the safe room. When you're alone with him, I will come.”
It was all going according to plan when the bartender suddenly moved from his spot and caught up with them, looking just slightly insane. Great. “You need to get out of here, it’s not safe.”
Dimitri came out the back room, his eyes already set on her. “I can take care of myself,” Emily said, annoyed again.
But the guy wasn’t listening. “Go,” was all he said before turning to Dimitri. “Mr. Blavov…this is for Colleen.”
Oh shit.
The Russian blinked at him. “Who?”
“My sister,” the bartender said.
Oh shit.
He charged at Sergei without a second thought, without even having a weapon. This guy was clearly an idiot. Sergei took out his gun right away. “Gun!” Emily yelled, more for Takeda’s sake than the bartender’s, and then tackled him down right before Sergei and the other guards filled him with lead.
“Emily, abort the mission.” Takeda sounded slightly worried. Emily just grunted as she wondered if being the next girl about to be turned into a sex slave would save her from getting shot. Probably not. Two men came and took the bartender away, but at least he was alive. For now. “Emily, go,” Take insisted.
“I can’t,” she said as she stood up. She was still surrounded by Russians. Dimitri looked at her again with some fascination in his eyes.
“Quite a bold act for such a young girl.”
Emily smiled at him. “My daddy was in the service. He taught me how to protect myself.”
That seemed to surprise him. Or amuse him, she didn’t care. “Your daddy, huh?” Dimitri leaded her to the safe room, closing the door behind him. Emily briefly considered knocking him out right there, but the place was crowded with armed Russians. She had to do it this way, whatever the cost might be. It was just another role to play, right? Dimitri came closer, but a knock on the door made him turn around, as if he had just remember something.
“Seichas. Business before pleasure tonight,” he said, not really talking to her as he left. The electric buzz of the safe room locking meant she was stuck there. “Takeda as you still there?” Emily asked in a whisper.
“I am. Where are you?”
“In Dmitri's safe room at the west end of the hall. The entry code is 5-3-1-9-5-3.” Thanks God for those pads with different sounds for each number and hours of practice. “Door locks on both sides. Everyone is armed.”
Emily turned around. “Do not move. I will come for you.”
“The bartender with the gun…” Emily started, weary. “He’s Colleen’s brother.” Which explained a lot of things regarding the way he had been acting.
Takeda was not impressed. “Your safety must be your primary concern, not this boy.”
Emily pried open an air vent. This was so ridiculous. “He tried to help me. I can’t just let them kill him.” She could, of course, but the day had already been bad enough as it was. “I'll contact you when I find him.” Takeda said nothing else, and Emily jumped into the vent. In a tiny dress.
As Emily got closer, she heard the muffled voice of Dimitri. “We’ll give you five minutes to consider your situation. Then we take you somewhere special where my comrade's wish can come true.” Threat made, Dimitri and his guards left the room, so Emily slid her way out of the vents. Did action heroes ever wonder about accidental panty shots while getting out of those? Because Emily did.
She came closer to the bartender guy, and started to work on his bonds. He looked beaten, but far from done. “I know why you're here. I know what they did to Colleen.”
“Who the hell are you?” He asked in raggedy voice.
“An ally,” Emily said simply.
“If you were, you would've let me kill him,” the man complained.
“Killing Dmitri is not gonna bring your sister back. What do you know about the downing of Flight 197?” Emily asked, fearing the answer.
The guy replied right away. “It happened a week after my sister was taken.”
“What else? There's gotta be a bigger connection here,” Emily pressed.
The guy doubted for a moment before speaking. “My father worked as a baggage handler at Heathrow Airport. He worked the night the plane took off.”
Emily’s eyes went wide with surprise. “That's how they got the bomb on the plane.”
The not-bartender glared at her. “You didn’t know him.”
“I didn’t need to,” Emily shot right back. “They used your father the same way they used mine.” She finally managed to get rid of his bonds. “Go,” she told him. Emily needed to get back to the safe room now…
…but of course she wouldn’t, since the guards entered again, guns pointed at them. “Move, and you both die.” Dimitri came right after them. “Looks like you get to use your self-defense classes after all. Make your daddy proud.”
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After what was a totally epic fight with armed Russian ex-soldiers against a skinny but fierce blonde and a bleeding and irrational…whatever the guy was, Emily had spotted Dimitri running away. Well, she was that good when it came to kick ass, and the other guy (he said he was Aiden) had been good enough, too. Now they just had to chase Dimitri.
“Dimitri!” He called as they ran against him. Emily noticed Takeda was closing in as well. Dimitri tried to pass Takeda, but he expertly dodged and threw him to the ground. Aiden reached him, gun in hand.
“Get up. Get up and face me. Tell me who hired you to take my sister.”
Dimitri stood up, a little smile on his face. “Girls come to me willingly.”
Aiden tensed all over, gun pointed at Dimitri’s face. “Not Colleen. I was there.”
He looked like he was about to shoot, which was bad for Emily. “Aiden, no!”
Something like recognition crossed Dimitri’s face. “Aiden. Now I remember. You were just a boy when we took Colleen. She called your name when you chased after us.”
“Don’t do this, no good will come from it,” Emily urged him. Dimitri smiled. “Listen to your girlfriend, she speaks the truth.” Aide didn’t relent though. “You tell me where she is, you son of a bitch.” But Dimitri laughed. “Probably dead.” Okay, that was pretty bad.
“If you pull the trigger, you'll never know what happened to your sister,” Emily said gravelly. “Please, don’t do this.”
Dimitri took a step back. “Don’t move!” Aiden shouted at him, gun still high. But Dimitri was looking at Emily. “You saved me twice in one day.” He then turned to Aiden. “Maybe your sister was strong like her. But mostly, they break quickly. If I remember correctly, the girl you called Colleen... She even grew to like it.”
It all happened too fast then; Aiden screamed, Emily screamed, then Aiden shot several times and Dimitri fell to the ground, dead.
Takeda came closer, and patted Emily’s back. “Go, take him away from here,” he said as he looked at Aiden.
Back in the warehouse, Emily and Aiden were still waiting for Takeda, who was most likely working his magic and making Dimitri’s body vanish in thin air.
“Is this your father?” Aiden asked as he looked at a picture in the desk, the only one Emily had brought with her. Her silence was all the confirmation he needed. “What was he like?”
Emily stared at the photograph for a moment. “He was kind, generous…funny.” He was pretty funny alright, she thought with a chuckle. “Humble but strong. He would’ve died for me.”
Aiden nodded. “Like my sister.”
There was a moment of silence before Emily talked. “She didn’t deserve what she got.”
But Aiden seemed to have moved on from that. In a way. “If your sense will have me, I want to learn how to save her.”
“What if she can't be saved?” Emily asked carefully.
Aiden’s voice was emotionless, much like her own. “Then I want to learn how to punish every person that helped destroy her...”
He came closer to her. “So that no family has to suffer the way that mine... The way
that our families suffered.”
Emily looked at him, and then nodded. “It can be arranged, but I need to be on my way.” Aiden blinked confused.
“Where to?”
Emily shrugged, but she smiled to him over her shoulder. “It’s a secret.”
[ This is what happens when you write everything and then go out for the entire weekend. I ended up putting 3+ posts all crammed in one huge post of TL;DRness. Anyway! NFI, NFB, OOC okay. Triggers for half hearted mentions of prostitution, NPC death and some violence. Adapted from Season 1 episode 14, Perceptions and Season 2 episode 8, Lineage because flashbacks suck. ]
Daniel Grayson was sitting with another person not too far ago, obviously drunk. "The Marriage... of Heaven and Hell, by William Blake,” he said as he looked at the good looking girl sitting with him. ”William Blake, the poet,” he added as he smiled.
The girl rolled her eyes at him. “I know who that is. I took Brit Lit last semester.”
Daniel smiled back. “All right. Very good. Listen.” He took a more serious stance, although it was still a pretty sorry drunken attempt to look well read. Not that Daniel didn’t sound well read. Also drunk, Emily noted again. “If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.”
The girl gave him a meditative stare. “And that applies to you how?”
Daniel nodded softly. “Infinite freedom; that’s what I want.” He then carried on. “I'm weighed down by my father's expectations, my mother's disapproving eye, but mostly by the world's perception of what it means to be a Grayson.” Emily raised her eyebrows at this. Interesting.
But Daniel was still speaking. “I don't want to be limited by all that for the rest of my life.”
Emily kept acting as if she wasn’t paying attention, but she had listened every single word the two had said. “Hey, studybug.” Emily looked up; the pretty girl was calling her now. “Settle an argument for us.”
The girl then pointed her finger at Daniel. “Do you know who this man is?” Emily knew who he was alright.
“Nope.”
She smirked at her. “He is poised to be one of the richest men in America.” Emily arched her eyebrows, perfectly mimicking actual surprise.
“Wow.”
The girl nodded. “But he wants to throw all that away and become a penniless poet. Now, I think he's crazy. What do you think?”
Emily shrugged, preparing her fake accent for long sentences. “I think you should ask someone else,” said, a thin smile in her face.
To this, Daniel finally reacted. “Oh, no, no, no. We want to ask you. I mean, I can't be who I am and a poet at the same time. My parents would never allow it,” he said, and then laughed.
Taking a thoughtful stance. Emily stood up and sat next to them. “You want people to see something different when they hear your last name? Make ‘em see it. Be better than your parents.” She smiled. “There ain’t nothin’ more poetic than that.”
Daniel smiled at her, and he was about to give her what she didn’t doubt was a witty drunken retort when her friend pulled him away; apparently this one wasn’t drunk enough to get all philosophical, but that suited Emily just fine. She just waved at them as they left.
After that little exchange at Harvard, Emily had received a text from Takeda; just a plane ticket (first class), a name in Russian and an address. Emily didn’t need more information to know this was when her little dresses came in play. The message was pretty obvious; get the information regarding the name, and everything that has to do with it. She then got a second message with another address. That was where they would meet afterwards.
But first, Emily had to pay a visit to certain lovebirds. Then she would get into whatever crazy antics her mentor wanted her involved.
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Saturday night she walked into the bar, her black dress doing a great job at showing her off. Which was intended, but still, whenever Emily wanted to dress to get men she usually wasn’t trying to sneak into a human cell mafia at the same time. Walking slowly, she spotted a bartender. Good looking, but too tense and attentive to blend in the way bartenders were meant to. Still, she had nothing better to get information out of.
Closing in, she read his name on his pin. “Dobry Vecher,” Emily muttered. That was Russian for good afternoon. The bartender had been staring at her since she had arrived; another reason to try and get information from him. “Doesn’t suit you,” she said.
“What,” he asked with caution. Okay, so he was really tense. What was her deal? Not that Emily cared all that much.
“The bow tie. Or the Russian accent?” Emily pretended to think for a moment. “Both.”
The man shrugged almost imperceptibility. “Well I’m your servant. So, uh, what do you fancy, comrade?”
“Vodka.” Emily supposed she should be drinking something that made sense with the context. Also, she liked vodka.
“Okay, alright.” He got right to it. “So…you got a name?” Oh great, he was hitting on her or something. So not the time.
“Yeah; Sergei Ivovsky,” Emily said, suppressing a smile when she said the face he made. “You know where can I find him.” The man assessed her seriously, perhaps for the first time.
“Now that doesn’t suit you.”
Well that was unexpected. “What?”
“Your profession.” Okay, at least she looked the part, Emily thought. The man kept talking. “Sergei is in the V.I.P area with the other girls.”
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Emily headed to the V.I.P area as instructed, but when she got there she realized things had already started; a lineup of pretty (and desperate looking in some cases) girls was already being judged like cattle to be sacrificed…and maybe the allegory didn’t hit too far from reality.
“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” was all the man was saying as he looked at the girls up and down.
“You.” He stopped in front of the one that looked more hopeless. “You’re trembling; Dimitri will like this. Clean off your face and let me look at you again.” The he turned to face the rest of the girls. “The rest of you…”
But Emily wasn’t paying attention anymore. She had her way in now. Finding the girl wasn’t complicated; she was crying inside of one of the bathroom stalls, clearly trying to will herself to get out of there again.
Emily knocked the door. Nothing. She knocked again. “Pease, please, go, go.” She then kept saying ‘go go’ in a teary, sobbing loop.
Emily sighed. “It's your first time, isn't it?”
Silence, then the girl answered. “Who are you?”
“A friend, if you let me be,” Emily said patiently.
“I don't need friends. I need money.”
“There are other ways to make money,” she assured the girl.
There was rage in the girl’s voice when she spoke again. “Do you think I'd be doing this if I hadn't tried everything else? An M.F.A. in art history is useless in this town. At least here, I can use it to talk about Kandinsky.”
Well, talk about hitting rock bottom. Emily was starting to lose her patience. She needed to scare her just the right way. “The man that you're auditioning to meet is named Dmitri Bladov. He traffics in women, the younger the better. That's why they want you with no makeup.” A pause, but the girl said nothing. “You want to end up another victim?”
“I just want to pay my rent, maybe get a job in a gallery somewhere,” said as the sobbing took over the ire again.
“Then do that. Take this,” Emily said as she passed a pretty fat wad of money through the top of the stall. It had a number written on a paper attached to it.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because you’re gonna help me, too,” Emily said. “Find out exactly when Dmitri is expected to arrive, then text the information to that number. Tell Sergei that you want to go buy a new dress before you meet Dmitri, and get the hell out of here. Don't ever come back.”
Emily then left quickly. By the time the girl named Ashely Davenpont looked out of her stall she would find nobody there.
Back in the bar, she stopped by to wait for the text.
The bartender was staring at her.
“You didn't pay for your drinks.”
Cute. Emily sighed; she really didn’t want to put up with this guy. “Put it on Sergei's tab.”
The man kept on staring. “You don’t know Sergei; you didn’t speak with him. I watched you.”
Alright, he was better off trying to hit on her. This was just creepy. “Keep your observations to yourself and there'll be a big tip in it for you the next time I see you.”
“And when will that be?” He asked.
That’s when her cellphone buzzed, and the information she wanted from Ashley appeared. “Tomorrow.”
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At the warehouse, Takeda was waiting.
“Your father would be proud.”
Emily was just fast enough to keep the cringe of hearing those words to herself. It was almost Thanksgiving in her own world. “I don’t like this time of the year.”
He nodded slowly. “Then your mission should provide needed distraction. Are you afraid?”
Emily considered this. Seriously considered it. Then she thought about her life, and her now ‘life’ in Fandom. “No. I’m ready.”
Takeda nodded again, ever the mysterious mentor. “How are your plans against the Graysons?”
She was stuck in another dimension and that had made things difficult, but her hatred could more than different worlds. Still, Emily shrugged. Natalie would be proud. “On schedule. I've severed all ties with Nolcorp, closed all my bank accounts, set up six dummy fronts, one of which just bought a building on 57th street.”
A pause, and then Emily produced a folio with pictures in it. “Turns out Conrad Grayson is sleeping with one of Victoria's best friends... Lydia Davis,” said as she pointed to the blonde embraced in a pretty intimate hug with the man that had ruined her father. “I was working on a strategy to turn their infidelity into my entree. That was...”
Emily looked at him, totally judging Takeda for a moment. “Before you gave me this diversion.”
Takeda ignored her like a boss and then handed her another folio. “Her name is Colleen,” he said. “She was kidnapped and sold by Dmitri Bladov... 1993.”
Emily didn’t even feign interest. “Did they find her?”
“No.” Need he say anything else? Takeda moved on quickly, passing her a little skin colored thing. “With this device, we will be in constant communication. Get Dmitri alone and find me access.”
Emily looked at the hearing device. “And then what?”
“Then you're free to return to your true cause.”
Emily walked right back into the club, silently musing about how the human trafficking business didn’t even stop on Sundays, when she spotted the bartender. Staring, of course.
“You look transformed,” he said, sounding tense.
“Everything looks different in the harsh light of day,” Emily said, already annoyed. Seriously this guy.
“Which makes it even more evident why a girl like you shouldn't be here.” Emily just eyerolled at him. Strongly.
That didn’t deter him though. “I'm serious. You shouldn't have come back here. Not today.”
Emily had enough of the guy. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” She then left him, not giving him a chance to keep talking, and approached the seriously looking, obviously Russian dude not too far away.
“Excuse me; are you Sergei?”
The man shot her the dirtiest look Emily had received in some time. “Da.”
Emily pretended to shy away a bit. “I’m sorry to bother you. My roommate, um, she’s not feeling well and she wanted me...to tell you that she won't be able to meet with Dmitri today.” A pause, and an apologetic smile that wasn’t really going to work. She was counting on that. “I hope that doesn’t screw things up for you.”
Sergei was having none of it. “But it does screw things up with me.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. She’s sick.”
The man half-smirked at him. “Tell me you will fill in for her. It pays three thousand dollars.”
Well now, that was exactly what Emily wanted to hear. “Tell me how old are you.”
Emily smirked. “For three thousand dollars? How old do you want me to be?”
The man’s cellphone buzzed. “Put your hands over your shoulders. Dimitri is here.”
Emily did as told, her mind going back to the weekend with the flying japapeños while some random Russian dude felt her up shamelessly. It was over not a second too early. He then motioned her to follow him. “Bring the vodka to the table. And don't be drunk when he takes you to the back room.”
Emily nodded, and then whispered. “Takeda, can you hear me?”
Takeda’s voice came in her ear. “Yes. What do you see?”
Emily scanned the room quickly. Nobody was paying her attention, which was good. “At least five armed guards. Possible Russian militia. Dmitri's on his way in from the back entrance.”
Takeda sounded only slightly appreciative when he answered. She was going a good job, she could tell. “Good, let him take you to the safe room. When you're alone with him, I will come.”
It was all going according to plan when the bartender suddenly moved from his spot and caught up with them, looking just slightly insane. Great. “You need to get out of here, it’s not safe.”
Dimitri came out the back room, his eyes already set on her. “I can take care of myself,” Emily said, annoyed again.
But the guy wasn’t listening. “Go,” was all he said before turning to Dimitri. “Mr. Blavov…this is for Colleen.”
Oh shit.
The Russian blinked at him. “Who?”
“My sister,” the bartender said.
Oh shit.
He charged at Sergei without a second thought, without even having a weapon. This guy was clearly an idiot. Sergei took out his gun right away. “Gun!” Emily yelled, more for Takeda’s sake than the bartender’s, and then tackled him down right before Sergei and the other guards filled him with lead.
“Emily, abort the mission.” Takeda sounded slightly worried. Emily just grunted as she wondered if being the next girl about to be turned into a sex slave would save her from getting shot. Probably not. Two men came and took the bartender away, but at least he was alive. For now. “Emily, go,” Take insisted.
“I can’t,” she said as she stood up. She was still surrounded by Russians. Dimitri looked at her again with some fascination in his eyes.
“Quite a bold act for such a young girl.”
Emily smiled at him. “My daddy was in the service. He taught me how to protect myself.”
That seemed to surprise him. Or amuse him, she didn’t care. “Your daddy, huh?” Dimitri leaded her to the safe room, closing the door behind him. Emily briefly considered knocking him out right there, but the place was crowded with armed Russians. She had to do it this way, whatever the cost might be. It was just another role to play, right? Dimitri came closer, but a knock on the door made him turn around, as if he had just remember something.
“Seichas. Business before pleasure tonight,” he said, not really talking to her as he left. The electric buzz of the safe room locking meant she was stuck there. “Takeda as you still there?” Emily asked in a whisper.
“I am. Where are you?”
“In Dmitri's safe room at the west end of the hall. The entry code is 5-3-1-9-5-3.” Thanks God for those pads with different sounds for each number and hours of practice. “Door locks on both sides. Everyone is armed.”
Emily turned around. “Do not move. I will come for you.”
“The bartender with the gun…” Emily started, weary. “He’s Colleen’s brother.” Which explained a lot of things regarding the way he had been acting.
Takeda was not impressed. “Your safety must be your primary concern, not this boy.”
Emily pried open an air vent. This was so ridiculous. “He tried to help me. I can’t just let them kill him.” She could, of course, but the day had already been bad enough as it was. “I'll contact you when I find him.” Takeda said nothing else, and Emily jumped into the vent. In a tiny dress.
As Emily got closer, she heard the muffled voice of Dimitri. “We’ll give you five minutes to consider your situation. Then we take you somewhere special where my comrade's wish can come true.” Threat made, Dimitri and his guards left the room, so Emily slid her way out of the vents. Did action heroes ever wonder about accidental panty shots while getting out of those? Because Emily did.
She came closer to the bartender guy, and started to work on his bonds. He looked beaten, but far from done. “I know why you're here. I know what they did to Colleen.”
“Who the hell are you?” He asked in raggedy voice.
“An ally,” Emily said simply.
“If you were, you would've let me kill him,” the man complained.
“Killing Dmitri is not gonna bring your sister back. What do you know about the downing of Flight 197?” Emily asked, fearing the answer.
The guy replied right away. “It happened a week after my sister was taken.”
“What else? There's gotta be a bigger connection here,” Emily pressed.
The guy doubted for a moment before speaking. “My father worked as a baggage handler at Heathrow Airport. He worked the night the plane took off.”
Emily’s eyes went wide with surprise. “That's how they got the bomb on the plane.”
The not-bartender glared at her. “You didn’t know him.”
“I didn’t need to,” Emily shot right back. “They used your father the same way they used mine.” She finally managed to get rid of his bonds. “Go,” she told him. Emily needed to get back to the safe room now…
…but of course she wouldn’t, since the guards entered again, guns pointed at them. “Move, and you both die.” Dimitri came right after them. “Looks like you get to use your self-defense classes after all. Make your daddy proud.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After what was a totally epic fight with armed Russian ex-soldiers against a skinny but fierce blonde and a bleeding and irrational…whatever the guy was, Emily had spotted Dimitri running away. Well, she was that good when it came to kick ass, and the other guy (he said he was Aiden) had been good enough, too. Now they just had to chase Dimitri.
“Dimitri!” He called as they ran against him. Emily noticed Takeda was closing in as well. Dimitri tried to pass Takeda, but he expertly dodged and threw him to the ground. Aiden reached him, gun in hand.
“Get up. Get up and face me. Tell me who hired you to take my sister.”
Dimitri stood up, a little smile on his face. “Girls come to me willingly.”
Aiden tensed all over, gun pointed at Dimitri’s face. “Not Colleen. I was there.”
He looked like he was about to shoot, which was bad for Emily. “Aiden, no!”
Something like recognition crossed Dimitri’s face. “Aiden. Now I remember. You were just a boy when we took Colleen. She called your name when you chased after us.”
“Don’t do this, no good will come from it,” Emily urged him. Dimitri smiled. “Listen to your girlfriend, she speaks the truth.” Aide didn’t relent though. “You tell me where she is, you son of a bitch.” But Dimitri laughed. “Probably dead.” Okay, that was pretty bad.
“If you pull the trigger, you'll never know what happened to your sister,” Emily said gravelly. “Please, don’t do this.”
Dimitri took a step back. “Don’t move!” Aiden shouted at him, gun still high. But Dimitri was looking at Emily. “You saved me twice in one day.” He then turned to Aiden. “Maybe your sister was strong like her. But mostly, they break quickly. If I remember correctly, the girl you called Colleen... She even grew to like it.”
It all happened too fast then; Aiden screamed, Emily screamed, then Aiden shot several times and Dimitri fell to the ground, dead.
Takeda came closer, and patted Emily’s back. “Go, take him away from here,” he said as he looked at Aiden.
Back in the warehouse, Emily and Aiden were still waiting for Takeda, who was most likely working his magic and making Dimitri’s body vanish in thin air.
“Is this your father?” Aiden asked as he looked at a picture in the desk, the only one Emily had brought with her. Her silence was all the confirmation he needed. “What was he like?”
Emily stared at the photograph for a moment. “He was kind, generous…funny.” He was pretty funny alright, she thought with a chuckle. “Humble but strong. He would’ve died for me.”
Aiden nodded. “Like my sister.”
There was a moment of silence before Emily talked. “She didn’t deserve what she got.”
But Aiden seemed to have moved on from that. In a way. “If your sense will have me, I want to learn how to save her.”
“What if she can't be saved?” Emily asked carefully.
Aiden’s voice was emotionless, much like her own. “Then I want to learn how to punish every person that helped destroy her...”
He came closer to her. “So that no family has to suffer the way that mine... The way
that our families suffered.”
Emily looked at him, and then nodded. “It can be arranged, but I need to be on my way.” Aiden blinked confused.
“Where to?”
Emily shrugged, but she smiled to him over her shoulder. “It’s a secret.”
[ This is what happens when you write everything and then go out for the entire weekend. I ended up putting 3+ posts all crammed in one huge post of TL;DRness. Anyway! NFI, NFB, OOC okay. Triggers for half hearted mentions of prostitution, NPC death and some violence. Adapted from Season 1 episode 14, Perceptions and Season 2 episode 8, Lineage because flashbacks suck. ]