About Me
The Whiteboard is a place where people can send Gestures, Attributes, Images, Comments, and much more...
This page is a permanent link to the comment below. See all comments »
JamesBarnes · M
— Alright, I neutralized the surveillance cams in here. — He said, tapping the commlink on his ear to keep her updated of his moves. That’s what he was doing when he came in—walking between the blind spots while Jenna attracted attention. The oglers had taken the bait as she blended as one of the working gals.
Barnes too had managed to look like some client’s bodyguard, glancing around for his master without much interest and making his way upstairs to the balcony. The place was softly lit by clusters of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. No signs of the man there. The soldier leaned against the railing and looked down at the stage where the reincarnated was currently busy alluring a bunch of men. She could hear the whistle through her comm. He had underestimated her and she was surprising him with the performance of the night.
But with her in play, Bucky’s biggest concern now was how to keep the necessary nasty from escalating.
«Any sighting of Rostov himself?» She asked lightly. The music from the show covering their soft conversation.
— Not yet — He confirmed, rejoining the crowd, not wanting to miss his chance to ID the job. They didn’t want to take him down in that place, but the plan was to follow him until he was a little separated from the main event, take out his bodyguards somehow, and slap cuffs on him (best case scenario). Also, according to Barnes, Andre Rostov wasn’t much for wet work himself; he hired assassins to protect him. There was some big muscle in there, indicating there would be some nasty.
Short minutes later the music stopped, announcing that Jenna’s show was over. Time was ticking. The curly-haired picked up some cash before abandoning the stage, heading to the bar. Eyes slid right over her as part of the scene. She was casing the place for Rostov, craning her neck this way and that to look over the writhing bodies of revelers, she still didn’t have a visual of the man but she had already identified some of his steroid-bulked associates. James was supposed to see something from his superior height.
And he did.
The super soldier slouched through the crowd, moving slowly, drifting almost aimlessly to her. — Guy. There. — He said, tapping on her shoulder, bending down so the word was just a breath in her ear as he passed through. Jenna got a glance of Rostov moving to the exit. Immediately after she felt a push from behind, one of the men that had witnessed her dance skills was escorting her out to take her to his boss.
Once outside the club Rostov clambered into an armored limousine. A group of women picked by his men were forced to get into the vehicle with him; including Jenna. Those curls were easy to spot. — You’re on the move. I tagged the car with a tracker, I’ll follow. — James assured her, hiding the tiny dart gun he had up his coat sleeve. —Don't do anything stupid until I get there.— Probably a hotel somewhere.
Barnes too had managed to look like some client’s bodyguard, glancing around for his master without much interest and making his way upstairs to the balcony. The place was softly lit by clusters of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. No signs of the man there. The soldier leaned against the railing and looked down at the stage where the reincarnated was currently busy alluring a bunch of men. She could hear the whistle through her comm. He had underestimated her and she was surprising him with the performance of the night.
But with her in play, Bucky’s biggest concern now was how to keep the necessary nasty from escalating.
«Any sighting of Rostov himself?» She asked lightly. The music from the show covering their soft conversation.
— Not yet — He confirmed, rejoining the crowd, not wanting to miss his chance to ID the job. They didn’t want to take him down in that place, but the plan was to follow him until he was a little separated from the main event, take out his bodyguards somehow, and slap cuffs on him (best case scenario). Also, according to Barnes, Andre Rostov wasn’t much for wet work himself; he hired assassins to protect him. There was some big muscle in there, indicating there would be some nasty.
Short minutes later the music stopped, announcing that Jenna’s show was over. Time was ticking. The curly-haired picked up some cash before abandoning the stage, heading to the bar. Eyes slid right over her as part of the scene. She was casing the place for Rostov, craning her neck this way and that to look over the writhing bodies of revelers, she still didn’t have a visual of the man but she had already identified some of his steroid-bulked associates. James was supposed to see something from his superior height.
And he did.
The super soldier slouched through the crowd, moving slowly, drifting almost aimlessly to her. — Guy. There. — He said, tapping on her shoulder, bending down so the word was just a breath in her ear as he passed through. Jenna got a glance of Rostov moving to the exit. Immediately after she felt a push from behind, one of the men that had witnessed her dance skills was escorting her out to take her to his boss.
Once outside the club Rostov clambered into an armored limousine. A group of women picked by his men were forced to get into the vehicle with him; including Jenna. Those curls were easy to spot. — You’re on the move. I tagged the car with a tracker, I’ll follow. — James assured her, hiding the tiny dart gun he had up his coat sleeve. —Don't do anything stupid until I get there.— Probably a hotel somewhere.