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tamingthemuseTitle: The Hound
Author : naughty_bangles
Rating: Gen
Summary: Nothing never goes according to plan.
Prompt #376 Retribution
The night was still fair in this last days of August, made nearly inexistent by the bright street lights in the center of Brussels. The sidewalks were busy with people, locals or tourists, coming out from restaurants, theater, enjoying an evening of pleasure and rest. It would take one or two hours more to see the streets growing calmer, and a quiet night fully setting on. For now, the cafés were still full of the mixed life of the capital during the summer holidays.
Sitting at a table in the colorful "La Mort Subite", Ben Skarkis couldn't feel more estranged from the good spirited atmosphere of the place. Alone with his beer, he was scanning the crowd for any unfriendly presence, using all his skills and training to look like any other late night customer.
His contact was late. Five minutes late. Some would call it paranoia, but Ben knew enough to be set on nerves by any delay. In his line of work, delay was simply not a thing.
He knew what he was about to do would cost him a lot if it wasn't done fast and smoothly. Nobody could casually leave his job and hope to walk away unarmed. Hope that nobody around him would stay safe and sound. It had to be carefully planned, checked and double-checked, and maybe, maybe, he could disappear without ruining someone else's life – and his own. And his contact was already seven minutes late.
Then the bell at the door rang, unheard from everyone but him, and she entered the café. She wasn't the one he had been waiting for. It could only mean one thing : he was screwed. She had brown hair reaching her slim shoulders, and bright hazel eyes that were the only remarkable features of an otherwise plain face. She wore a black woolen coat somewhat too big for her, and worn off-the-peg denim pants. When she took the coat off to put it on the back of the chair in front of him, she showed a light blue t-shirt. The perfect girl-next-door camouflage. Nobody had looked at her, and nobody would remember her.
She sat on the chair and, with a gentle smile, borrowed a drink board at the table next to them.
"It's not very wise, what you're doing here", she said, never raising nor lowering her voice, as she started a casual conversation. She looked at the board, obviously ready to take her time. It was over for Ben, and he knew it. It could at least enjoy his last free minutes and finish his beer.
"You're the Hound, right ?", he asked on the same casual tone, letting himself relax, now that the dice had rolled. If the Hound had found him, he would never be able to leave the café without her consent. His only destination now would be a heavily guarded cell.
She didn't respond, but flashed him a smile that dug a dimple in her left cheek. When a waiter came to take her order, she asked for a fruity beer in a perfect French.
"It's funny, I didn't imagine you like that", Ben commented, before taking a sip from his glass.
"It's funny, because I don't really see how someone like the Hound would be effective if he – or she – looked like a scary monster from a silly slash movie", she replied good-naturedly.
Ben had to agree with that – it actually made sense that the best tracker in the world would look armless enough to get everywhere without being noticed. He could have already seen her somewhere, and not remembering it.
"What can I expect from now ?" was his next question, and maybe the most important of the conversation.
She shrugged. "It's up to your employer. I'm only a go-between."
Ben made a face. It wasn't good for him, but there was a real chance his family would be left alone. At this point, it was all that mattered to him.
He sighed.
He shouldn't have accepted that job in the first place.
Author : naughty_bangles
Rating: Gen
Summary: Nothing never goes according to plan.
Prompt #376 Retribution
The night was still fair in this last days of August, made nearly inexistent by the bright street lights in the center of Brussels. The sidewalks were busy with people, locals or tourists, coming out from restaurants, theater, enjoying an evening of pleasure and rest. It would take one or two hours more to see the streets growing calmer, and a quiet night fully setting on. For now, the cafés were still full of the mixed life of the capital during the summer holidays.
Sitting at a table in the colorful "La Mort Subite", Ben Skarkis couldn't feel more estranged from the good spirited atmosphere of the place. Alone with his beer, he was scanning the crowd for any unfriendly presence, using all his skills and training to look like any other late night customer.
His contact was late. Five minutes late. Some would call it paranoia, but Ben knew enough to be set on nerves by any delay. In his line of work, delay was simply not a thing.
He knew what he was about to do would cost him a lot if it wasn't done fast and smoothly. Nobody could casually leave his job and hope to walk away unarmed. Hope that nobody around him would stay safe and sound. It had to be carefully planned, checked and double-checked, and maybe, maybe, he could disappear without ruining someone else's life – and his own. And his contact was already seven minutes late.
Then the bell at the door rang, unheard from everyone but him, and she entered the café. She wasn't the one he had been waiting for. It could only mean one thing : he was screwed. She had brown hair reaching her slim shoulders, and bright hazel eyes that were the only remarkable features of an otherwise plain face. She wore a black woolen coat somewhat too big for her, and worn off-the-peg denim pants. When she took the coat off to put it on the back of the chair in front of him, she showed a light blue t-shirt. The perfect girl-next-door camouflage. Nobody had looked at her, and nobody would remember her.
She sat on the chair and, with a gentle smile, borrowed a drink board at the table next to them.
"It's not very wise, what you're doing here", she said, never raising nor lowering her voice, as she started a casual conversation. She looked at the board, obviously ready to take her time. It was over for Ben, and he knew it. It could at least enjoy his last free minutes and finish his beer.
"You're the Hound, right ?", he asked on the same casual tone, letting himself relax, now that the dice had rolled. If the Hound had found him, he would never be able to leave the café without her consent. His only destination now would be a heavily guarded cell.
She didn't respond, but flashed him a smile that dug a dimple in her left cheek. When a waiter came to take her order, she asked for a fruity beer in a perfect French.
"It's funny, I didn't imagine you like that", Ben commented, before taking a sip from his glass.
"It's funny, because I don't really see how someone like the Hound would be effective if he – or she – looked like a scary monster from a silly slash movie", she replied good-naturedly.
Ben had to agree with that – it actually made sense that the best tracker in the world would look armless enough to get everywhere without being noticed. He could have already seen her somewhere, and not remembering it.
"What can I expect from now ?" was his next question, and maybe the most important of the conversation.
She shrugged. "It's up to your employer. I'm only a go-between."
Ben made a face. It wasn't good for him, but there was a real chance his family would be left alone. At this point, it was all that mattered to him.
He sighed.
He shouldn't have accepted that job in the first place.
