We'll Always Have Paris (1 pic)                  

Art and text courtesy of nyctophobia11 -  https://www.deviantart.com/nyctophobia11 

Back in his apartment, she threw herself into the best chair she could find, then twisted and shimmied her body until she felt like she had found her spot on it. He shook his head. She then criticised his choice of whiskey only to have her turn to begging when he said he would not give her any then. After much pleading on her part, he finally got her a glass, poured her a peg and then, in a move that he had mastered over the years, emptied the contents of the ring on his finger into her drink. She gratefully accepted the glass and nursed the drink when he told her she would not get another one.

 

He then excused himself as he needed to shower. By then however, she was talking to her drink instead, telling it why it was inferior to her favourite brand. He sighed and left her alone. In the shower, he finally took off his wig, and his false moustache and beard. ‘I’d like to do this with my face on,’ he seemed to tell himself in the mirror, then adding, ‘It’s not likely she’s going to remember my face tomorrow morning given how drunk she is, but then again, why take the chance?’

 

When he returned, he was a different man, but it was not like she could notice. He smiled. The drug had taken effect. She showed all the symptoms which included a vacant look, dilated pupils and a generally limp body. He walked over and examined the emptied glass, then checked her eyes and her lips. She didn’t respond. He then did something he had imagined doing since he first caught sight of her, he slid his hand lower and cupped her breast, his palm resting on and grazing her nipple elicited an unconscious moan from her lips. He wanted to check lower, but pulled himself away. There would be plenty of time for that.

 

He smiled as he reluctantly left her in her chair. At this point, all her memories would be frozen at where she last saw him and when she woke up the next morning, he would be back in his disguise. She would also be much more compliant to anything he wanted, more so than then she was drunk. His mind drifted to all the things he wanted to do to her that night, starting with getting her out of that dress, or would it have been better to do her in that dress? As his mind wandered, he instinctively went over his nightly routine of checking the locks, the security system, and finally the pistol he kept locked in a chest of drawers. Except tonight, it was missing.

 

‘Looking for this?’

 

He whirled around quickly, only to find his pistol being pointed at him by the formerly drunk and drugged woman.

 

‘What!? Who the hell are you? How did you know where the gun was?’ he growled, as his mind raced over the possibilities as well as whether he could get to her before she could put a bullet in him.

 

‘Relax, Hunter. If I wanted you dead, you’d have been dead three days ago. I’m here to talk, and make you a proposition. Oh, and perish the thought of rushing me. I’ll kneecap you before you take your first step. You prefer to lead with your right leg, right?’

 

Grant Hunter calmed himself, took a step back and relaxed. ‘Fine, but you haven’t answered my questions.’

 

‘Let’s start with the simple one first. You eyed that drawer at least three times since you brought me up here and were sizing me up. Ergo, there had to be something there that you felt offered some sense of security.’

 

‘And your random drunken staggering around of course led you to the chair with the best view of the room.’

 

‘Not bad, Hunter, not bad. I didn’t take you to be observant.’

 

‘In hindsight,’ he growled back, ‘So, how did you do it? Even if you faked your drunkenness, I saw you drink the spiked drink. But you seem completely normal.’

 

‘Come now, Hunter, if anyone should be aggressive, it should be me, after how you’ve treated me, but look at me, I’m all forgiving. And I’m not sure how many women you’ve met in your life who could shrug off the effects of your little cocktail in the matter of minutes. Nice work on the formula though; could barely taste it in the whiskey. I guess it takes longer to act than the version you inject into veins?’

 

At this point, Hunter’s expression changed. The pieces all clicked into a single impossibility. ‘YOU!? But you were sent off to Wahat Muqmira! No one escapes that place!’

 

‘Tsk, tsk, Hunter. Haven’t you heard? The old management is gone. I thought that was why the two of you went to ground?’

 

Hunter felt sick to the stomach. He involuntarily staggered back and leaned against the wall. About a month ago, they got news that the Wahat had fallen in a single night. With no clue as to who did it and how, given the place had the unofficial blessing of every scum on the planet who ever sent their prisoners there for safekeeping, everyone who had ever done business with the place was on high alert. Masika and he had split up. Then about two weeks ago, when she dropped out of contact, he had took up an identity that even she didn’t know about.

 

‘How. How did you find me?’

 

‘Would you believe me if I said I could follow your stench to the ends of the earth?’

 

At this point, Hunter didn’t know what to believe. ‘So you did this? All of this?’

 

‘Two years ago, I made a promise to every fucking son-of-a-bitch who ruined the life of a girl who was seeking justice that I would hunt them down to the corners of the world if I had to and tear them limb from limb. Unfortunately, I did not know where this place was, only its name. Its agents seem to fear the place more than they feared me, and that they could not be bribed or coerced into giving up its location. So I resorted to the only way I knew I could find the place. Get sent there myself.’

 

‘Sameera?’

 

‘Rumoured to be the only one to escape that place, but never heard of or seen since. I knew if I threw that name around, the Wahat would want to protect its ‘inescapable’ reputation.’

 

‘So, you lucked out and got us?’

 

‘Oh hell no. Got ‘kidnapped’ four times before I got nabbed by you two. Fortunately for me, your partner with her military intelligence background could not let a mystery slide.’

 

‘No one reported it on the network.’

 

‘That’s the beauty of your criminal network, if someone goes missing, they just assume they have retired.’

 

‘So now what? Revenge?’

 

‘Hell no! Since you helped me reach my objective, I’ve decided to give you the opportunity to help me out, more or less permanently.’

 

‘What do you mean?’

 

‘You will provide me with intelligence about the criminal underworld. And, access to your ‘cocktail’ of course.’

 

‘And in return you let me live?’

 

‘And your partner of course. In case you were wondering, she dropped off the radar because she was picked up by the military police for desertion. She’s serving out a sentence right now. Turns out, you can’t become a supersoldier and just quit whenever you feel like it. I tried to convince her that I could get her out of that situation, but it seems she did not take kindly to our roles being reversed. Pride and all that. I knew however, that you would be more amenable to working for me. If not, I can make her life a living hell in there.’

 

‘What makes you think I care about her?’

 

She smiled. ‘Ah, Hunter. It’s all the little things, even back when you had me strapped up in your basement, I could tell. Just as easily as I can tell your little shifts when I told you about her. Let me assure you, the feeling is mutual. Tell me, is it her ‘professional’ demeanour that kept you two from exploring your relationship potential. If you play by my rules, maybe I’ll give you a chance to see where you two could go. Do enough for me, and maybe I’ll even let you have a happy ending, better than you two deserve. Like it or not, Hunter, you belong to me now.’

 

‘Before I agree, and you know I will, I’d like to know who you work for, who do you represent?’

 

‘The Collective,’ she replied.

 

Hunter's demeanour changed. ‘I thought you worked for one of the intelligence agencies, but now, what happened in Wahat makes sense. Yes of course, I’ll work for you. Everyone dreams of working for the Collective.’ He noticed that she did not anticipate his change in behaviour. He shrugged. ‘What? You don’t know the weight your employer carries in the underworld? Are you new to this?’

 

‘Of course not,’ she replied, trying to regain her composure, then added, ‘I just thought I’d have to twist your arm some more.’

 

‘Nonsense. I feel like I’m finally moving up in life. Call me whenever you need me and, no hard feelings, right?’