“Ooooi!! I'm back!” Hardy announces via yelling as she saunters through the extravagant mansion of a home belonging to her current employer. The platinum-blonde approaches a set of redwood double doors and grips the golden fanciful handles upon them, pulling at both simultaneously to reveal her presence to those within the office space, grinning all the while. Her escort follows behind and clears his throat as he also enters.
“Ahem. Yeah, the girly from before is back…” He softly adds awkwardly. Inside the room, four men are present - minus the addition of the sole female’s escort. Two bodyguards in identical black suits - one to the far left leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and the other to the right, sitting on a chair as he begins to shut & fold the newspaper he's been reading until the recent arrival. An associate, a man wearing a brown suit with pinstripe patterns and aviators with yellow lenses, sits upon one of the two comfy chairs in front of the desk. Behind that piece of expensive furniture sits the big breadwinner himself - Alexandrian Melfonny. A man within his very early 30's and unimaginable reach across various states, companies, and even political figures. His skin is of a fair complexion, his hair trimmed very short and slicked back, facial hair kept low & thin, and his physique is both slim & tall.
“Already? Don't remember gettin’ a call or message.” Alexandrian shoots the blonde a look of skepticism as he leans forward within his comfy office chair to hunch over his desk.
“Well, silly. . . As your on-the-fly errand girl, I had to make sure I went about things in the most optimal fashion possible. The less said, the better. I mean, come on. You don't want me blowing up your phone for doing the bare minimum, do you?” Hardy reasons with a cheery tone behind her words before she approaches his desk and reaches to unzip the gym bag she has hanging from her shoulder.
“So, you got them all?” Her boss questions. Soon, he's given both her answer and evidence. The mercenary of a woman retrieves nine photos and three I.D. cards from inside her bag. They're neatly organized in a way that they're separated by rubber bands, stacks of three with the identification cards placed with the related pictures. Three men, all terminated.
“Uh huh. Brought ya proof, too.” She tells him as she stands with her left hand on her hip jutting hip. Alexandrian looks through them all and soon finds himself blown away at how efficient she is.
“Yeah, okay. You did get ‘'em all. And fast, too.
“I'm glad you're satisfied with the amount of time it took me. Now, you'll give me something to smile about too, right?” She questions, cutting straight to the point.
“Hey, a deal's a deal. Cash or bank transfer?” He asks while setting everything aside.
“Hmmm… Tough one. Then again, the taxation in this country IS pretty damn absurd. I rather know that I'm spending my money irresponsibly over being robbed blind. Gimme cash.” Hardy decisively answers. At her request, Alexandrian goes on to retrieve something from under his desk and rises from his seat. The item in question is a briefcase he carries over with him toward a portrait on his wall. He momentarily sets the briefcase down so that he can use both hands to carefully remove the large frame from the wall and set it down beside him, revealing a large built-in steel safe door with a dial. He turns the dial several times to provide it with the appropriate numbers. He opens it only to reveal another door, but one with a number pad instead this time. He fluently punches in the code and unlocks it, which opens to reveal yet another steel door. Save the third one requires a key. The very key he plucks from his pocket to insert, twist, and unlock it with. Only then does he finally pick up the briefcase again and begins piling stacks of cash inside. Once he's done, he sets the briefcase down again to spare time to retrieve his key and shut all three doors again. He carries the money over to his desk and slides it over toward Hardy.
“All there.” He tells her.
“You won't get offended if I count it, will you?” She rhetorically asks. The grinning young woman doesn't wait for a response and goes on to open the briefcase.
“Maybe a little, but ya did good work. I can't complain.” He shrugs and sits to lean back into his seat.
“A groovy job, in fact.” The man wearing the yellow aviators praises.
“Those men weren't some easy-get-to schmucks. You know, I like how you operate, too. Didn't even use a burner? So discreet. That's rad, baby. How would you like to make even more money? Nearly double of what you've gotten now?” He proposes. Alexandrian raises a brow, but says nothing just yet. Still counting her money, Hardy responds.
“If you say so. Their security was a bore to get through. But hey, I'm a lady who can get it done. Give me the names and I'll come to collect later.”
“I dig the confidence, young lass! I want you to pay a visit to the Michaelsons so that I can pay my respects to them later. David, the big man himself. His wife, his brother Charles, and right hand man, Varrick Johnson. They're particularly known for owning the Michaelson Hotel.” The man tells her. Afterwards, Alexandrian finally gives his input.
“You want them out of the picture, huh? That could actually work in my favor.” He comments.
“David has a second brother, younger than them both. His name is Daniel, but most call him Danny. Smart guy. Really business oriented. If you can avoid… sweeping him, I'd appreciate that. I'll add a small bonus for it. If you decide to take the job that is.” Alexandrian explains. Soon, Hardy finishes counting her money and seals the briefcase shut.
“Hm. Alrighty. Text me the names and I'll do the rest.” With those words solidifying her agreement, she locks the briefcase and carries it with her as she turns to leave, giving a subtle wave with her free hand on her way out of the office.
“See ya soon.” Once it's clear as day the woman has left the mansion, the two associates exchange thoughts.
“Kinda’ young though, isn't she? How old is she, 17? 18?” The man with the aviators questions as he contemplatively rubs at his chin.
“I have no idea, but someone vouched for her. Didn't disappoint, either. Don't care about the small stuff so long as it gets done.” Alexandrian answers.
[ Two Days Later, Evening at 7:03pm ]
Just as she said she would, Hardy was able to dig up details on the Michaelsons after looking up their surname on the interweb. She discovers that they're a big name family with an empire in the field of Real Estate that expands across various countries, allegations of associating and aiding criminal figures from gangs, and a hotel chain that's gone global. Though it matters not to Hardy what these people get up to, the information does however help paint a picture as to why an unruly lot would want them out of the way. Tonight, she's going to fulfill that wish.
Atop of a building across from that fancy hotel, the blonde begins unpacking her equipment. Two refile cases she sets down to her left and right.
It turns out that the Michaelsons are throwing a birthday party for their son. The father and boy in question have been enthusiastically talking about it on social media, of which Hardy stumbled upon during her research.
It's taking place this very evening. With that knowledge in mind, the blonde thought to bring along with her two long barrel rifles. Not for taking down her marks from afar, but the first - the firearm with blue neon LED lights pulsating at the both sides of the gun's body - she aims down the tech-seeker scope of to find a breaker box on the roof of the hotel, then pulls the trigger when she steadies her aim. POOOF ! - TINK!
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She hits the target spot-on with a bullet designed to act as an hack-upon-contact tool and antenna for remote-control. She sets down the gun within her grasp and picks up the other, of which has a harpoon-like rod within its barrel. She moves toward the ledge of the roof she's on to both plant her left foot on top of it and take aim at a downward angle. BAMF!
She pulls the trigger and sets loose the sharp harpoon that not only punches through the glass window of a hallway, but pierces right through a lone security guard with a gushy, blood splashing puncture as it lodges itself into the wall.
However, Hardy is certainly not without lethal means. Upon her person she's wearing a fitting black T-shirt that tucks into a baggy pair of jet black combat pants, held up by a holster belt containing two handguns and a high-end hunting knife, that themselves are tucked into a pair of black shin-high military boots with buckles & straps upon them. Lastly, she wears a pair of matching combat gloves with rubber grip assistance on the palms.
“Okay, now for the next part.” She muses to herself and extends the gun's built-in stand, of which she takes a step back to bend down and hook underneath the ledge in front of her. Afterwards, she draws one of her handguns from the holster on her hips and backs up several more steps. It's all the space she needs before running forward, casually leap from the roof, and hook a grip onto the sturdy wire leading down to the 7th floor hallway via holding onto the handle and barrel of her gun. She slides all the way to her destination and seamlessly lands within a roll that leads to her kneeling in front of the unfortunate victim of her means to get inside, sitting and bleeding out as he gasps for air.
“Oh.” Hardy blinks as they meet each other's eyes. However, nothing comes of that awkwardness. The blonde's face is the last thing the man sees before his vision goes white and his body slumps over completely limp from his massive blood loss.
“Hm. Well, let's not dwell on the dead, shall we?” And with those words, Hardy uses one hand to hold her pistol while her other reaches into her pocket to pull out her jailbroken phone. She accesses an app that operates well with the hacking bullet she shot earlier and proceeds to shut off the alarms, lock down the building to prevent anyone from leaving, and then cuts the power off completely. The top notch security system she was able to use to her advantage before shutting it down activates steel barricades that block off all entry points on the first floor, thus it becomes a matter of hunting down her marks in the dark. Swift and nimble, Hardy rises up and takes off like a trackstar. Maneuvering through the corridors until she finds the door leading to the stairwell.
[Meanwhile, Down On The Main Floor…]
“Sir, we're working on getting power restored to the building, but in the meantime it would be best if you and your family took the stairs down to the panic room.” The security guard informs David while hustling beside them toward a secret stairwell that only goes down. Upon reaching it, David fishes a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door.
“Jeeze, what the hell is going on, anyway?” The middle-aged man questions.
“We're not sure yet, but we're working on finding out as quickly as we can, boss.” The security guard answers, then turns his back to the family as he reaches to press a button on his earpiece.
“What's the deal? Do we have someone looking at one of the breakers yet?”
“I dunno, but I think I hear– AAAAIIIIUAHK!?” THUMP! A voice begins to answer from the nexus of earpieces sharing a line, but is cut short all of a sudden. All that's heard is a thud of a body dropping, followed by a sudden 'snap’.
“Hello…? What was that? Are you still there?” The security guard who initiated reached out, asks, hoping for an answer. Alas, there's no response.
“Dad, what's going on? Is everything okay?” The birthday boy questions his father.
“Yeah, everything is fine, Jimmy. Let's just get down stairs.” David assures as he pulls the door open and ushers his family through the doorway.
“I don't care how you do it, but I want this taken care of as soon as you can.” David briefly turns toward his security guard before following the others.
“Understood, sir.” And with that, the guard heads off.
[Back With Hardy…]
Progress descending to the main floor has been mostly smooth. No gunshots yet, which still leaves room for optimism and uncertainty. Who could really say how high the threat level is?
At the very bottom of the building's main stairwell, Hardy cautiously proceeds to twist the door knob of the door and push it ajar while poking her head out. Unfortunately, her timing was awful this time around. Almost immediately a flashlight is shining directly on her face.
“Hey, who's there!?” The security guard who just came from escorting the Michaelsons demands. As he moves closer, he makes the mistake of letting down his guard upon seeing a young & pretty face, believing her to be a guest who's wandering around.
“Oh. Listen, we have no idea what's going on, so it'd be best if you–” Before he can finish that thought, the blonde shoves the door open with the closest arm to it while using her opposite hand to draw her knife from its sheath, and blitzes him him with the ferociousness of a leopard that leads to her tackling him onto the floor. Cold and silent, she swiftly swipes her blade across his neck with inhuman strength that makes the task as easy as cutting through butter. Blood splatters across the floor and begins pouring out of the man's fatal wound like a dam that's just been unleashed. He gasps and gurgles his own blood, but all that he's losing at such an alarming rate quickly puts him out of his brief misery.
“I'll take that…” She utters softly, reaching to pluck the earpiece from his head and slips it onto her own ear. She rises from her position of kneeling atop of the fresh corpse and begins treading forward. What luck, too. There's only seconds before she starts picking up helpful information from the other security guards on the situation. She stops to lean against the wall around the corner up ahead, casually twirling one of her long thigh-length dutch braids around as he listens.
“Have the Michaelsons been escorted out of the ballroom yet?”
“Yeah, Carlson escorted them near the reception desk.” One guard answers the question. A response that makes Hardy blink and pause. In front of her is none other than the mentioned desk at the front. She looks to her right, seeing three elevator doors along the wall, and one monochrome door with a very simple look to it. That was either the janitor's closet or the way down.
“Good. Everyone else is still in the room, so I doubt whoever this guy is won't know any better. He's taken down three guys on the 7th, 4th, and 3rd floor, so be ready for anything.” Another security guard informs. Deciding she's heard enough, Hardy drops her braid and reaches to grab the communicator in her ear, tossing it aside as she approaches the silver door. Just before grabbing the knob, she flicks her blade to fling some of the blood off of it and places it back into its sheath. She's mindful to use minimum effort when twisting and pulling, but both directions resist her attempt. It's definitely locked. She tightens her grip and gradually begins applying strength behind pulling. Then, with a sudden tug, she pries it right off its hinges before setting it aside. Knowing full well that it was probably enough noise to draw curious ears, Hardy rushes down the spiral of steps. Not by descending individual steps, but leaping down flight after flight until she reaches the bottom. It leads into a narrow space with only a left turn awaiting ahead. She ventures through and enters a wider corridor that has functional lights. And functional security, it seems. A moment of her taking a couple steps along the marble floor, an AI voice makes itself heard. A camera-like eye above and enormous vault door.
“ Identification unknown. Please leave the premises immediately. “ It orders. The blonde scoffs and proceeds onward with a carefree smug grin, unafraid to challenge whatever authority the bot thinks it has.
“ Lethal force engaged. “ And with that announcement, seamless spots on the walls flip and train turret guns upon the mercenary and open fire. Bullets fly and Hardy instinctively raises her right forearm in front of her face. Bit by bit, the barrage tears at small fractions of her clothes, however no blood is drawn. She CAN feel them, but they're equivalent to a normal person receiving fresh cigarette burns to her.
“Cute toys.” Is all she comments with under her breath before dashing forward. She puts her acrobatic talent on display by jumping to the wall to her left and then leaping up to the far – CRUNCH. Her left hand digs into the wall to make its own supportive grip as she spreads her legs and plants the bottom of her boots against the surface in front of her. Her right arm wraps around the structure of the turret and easily breaks it out of place. She lets the hunk of metal fall to the floor before using that very same arm to pluck her knife out and toss it at the AI-controlled gun with enough force to make it pierce through. She pushes off of the wall in front of her to propel herself toward the opposite surface while turning her body in the process. She manages to grab onto the resilient handle of her knife and pulls herself up, going on to use the position to put the turret within a quick choke hold and snap it out of place. That too she allows to clang onto the floor while dropping down onto her feet at the same time. Next is the massive vault door.
She wastes no time with posturing or commenting and just grabs onto what she can of the door. She begins pulling with a grunt. Despite her size, the metal round door does indeed begin to whine as it gives into her unfathomable strength. Within a few seconds, she snaps it out of place, turns sideways, and then sends it rolling down the hall she came from, where it thumps against the wall and blocks off the narrow space leading to the stairs.
“Well, hello and good evening! You're all looking quite ideal tonight. Huddling up together like that.” Hardy comments as she begins to walk forward, entering the incredibly spacious interior of the safe room that resembles a lounging space.
“That door was 3 tons… How did you get in?” David asks while standing in front of his family and pointing a gun at the intruder.
“Only 3? I thought it felt pretty light for a fancy vault door.” Hardy comments smugly. It's then that a succession of events kick off. Just as she begins reaching for her guns, the sound of a mechanical sliding door somewhere in the back can be heard opening before another man steps out to make his presence known.
“David–”
“Varrick?” The father turns his head upon hearing his friend's voice. The blonde resumes to ease her firearms out of their hostler afterwards.
“Look!” Upon Varrick's warning, David turns his attention back to her and a myriad of bullets firing off fills the air for four whole seconds. By the end of it, Hardy is the last one standing.
“Easy as usual.” The mercenary comments as she walks forward, intending to investigate that alternative exit. During this, she soon hears the soft ragged breathing and whimpering from the wife.
“Huh? Oh.” Stopping in her tracks, Hardy takes aim at the woman.
“P-please, no–” BBANG-BANG-BANG. That shoulder wound turns into fatal holes that render the woman lifeless. She places the gun she just used again away and continues onward. She finds the hidden pathway that's been left open and heads out into the night, finding herself inside within a parking lot on the other side. In front of her is a man, staring in shock, standing in front of a running car.
“Oh, Danny.”
“You… you know me? What happened–” He tries to pry for info, but she cuts him off promptly.
“Don't worry about it. Just be glad you're a lucky man tonight. Well… not that lucky. I'm taking that car.”