“Did they beg again?” He asked, stealing a glance at the woman as she changed wardrobe for a short second before focusing back on the window, where the city lay, dark and grim with imaginary blood smeared all over the street tiles and stone walls. It had taken them months, of which he had to grow more than he thought he would have, but finally they would be able to end this nightmare. But what would happen at the end ? Would he wake up? Or would he forever remain in the lucid dream. 

“Hm? Yes. Yes just.. I’m tired.” 

Blue eyes had swept up again to find the woman dressed in nothing but his shirt, which looked better on her than it did on him. “Are you?” His hand slipped from underneath his chin, extending towards the dark headed woman as if to wait for her to place her hand in his while she made her way out of the closet. 

Obsidian tresses cascaded over shoulders, softness obscured by dried blood invisible to the eye. “They always do,” she hummed, always pleased with herself in the aftermath. Sapphire irises wandered to the window, taking in the sight of silent mayhem. Quiet chaos. It was nearly time. The end. One final whisper. One final scream.

“You’ve been tired for years,” she countered, though her tone was becoming more gentle with each breath.

Noting movement in front of her, Clémence’s attention averted from the window immediately to the outstretched hand before her. “No,” she answered, placing her hand in his. “I am war and death. It’s in my blood and marrow.” And Clémence learned to love her darkness. The thing that kept her alive. “But they are not,” she surmised, knowing her darkness would seep into the children the longer they were in Rome. “And they should never have to be.”

@morte-dolce

Confined in darkness, thoughts were allowed to wonder while his right leg was bouncing on the beat of his mind, drumming and humming through the many possibilities. Ever since his escape from the prison he was kept in he had all the time to think about his future, about what he wanted. There was no denial that the man was tired, his mind and body stretched and mold by Astrid’s marvellous work. But even now that his trauma was gone, there was a weight hanging on his shoulders, the weight of his family that he began to prioritise more and more, but had done a good job at concealing it for his members. 

A breath escaped his lips just before a heavy door opened, eyes looking up to find his wife move her small frame inside the room. She was late. “Did you meet trouble?” Of course he knew that ‘meeting trouble’ would turn into ‘becoming trouble’, but as she knew well, he still allowed himself to worry.

Clémence had stopped to greet Terrance before she’d made her way upstairs, knowing full well multiple people in the house would always be concerned no matter how many times she assured them she was fine. The assassin always made it back alive, after all. She had begun unzipping the matte black ballistic suit Astrid had crafted before she entered the room, an arm slipping from the fabric as she walked toward the closet. 

“I always do,” she replied darkly, still coming down from the evening. Taking off the obsidian mask of her demoness always took quite a while, but Amando made the process quicker. Clémence pulled one of his shirts from its perch, shrugging it on as she stepped out of her attire for that evening, tossing it in a designated hamper in the back. 

“Are you alright?” she called, walking out to look upon her husband’s face.

“I’m working on trying to trace it back. I don’t like that they broke through.” She wrinkled her nose. Maggie wasn’t a fan of people messing with her security and the fact that someone had obliterated it made her antsy. “It could be. Open microphone would account for the quality. Or microphones. There’s more than one audio. There was no message or anything. Just noise suddenly. I’ve set it to record as I work and I’m running checks left and right to make sure they haven’t taken anything or accessed any recording or location devices here.” Last thing they needed was El Dickbag tracking them here or listening to their conversations. 

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us like that they broke through,” Astrid cut in, arms crossing. “Okay so maybe it isn’t one microphone. Maybe it’s all of them. Ricardo works in an office, there are probably computers everywhere.” At Maggie’s assertion, Astrid looked at Clémence to wait for the assurance that no one could find them here. 

Clémence simply listened, impassive expression never leaving her sapphire gaze. “Figure it out,” she instructed, chin lifting imperiously. “I’m going to go inform Avery to increase his security measures in case we have an issue.” The assassin gave a nod to Astrid and turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t important. About twenty minutes ago a bevy of transmissions broke through my firewalls, which shouldn’t happen. At first it was just noise, but I was able to break it up. Its like someone’s sending me audio from where ever Ricardo’s merry band of douche-bags is huddled away or something. It could be recordings, but it sounds more echoed.” She was still trying to sort through the mess.

“You can’t track where it’s from?” A silent look towards the two women who joined him before he focused back on Maggie, arms crossed. No message or any bugs they sent along?”

The lioness narrowed her gaze further in contemplation. “Echoed?” she inquired. “And it’s still going?” She paused for a moment. “Do you think it’s live?”

Finally stepping fully into the room, Clémence took her place to the left of Amando. “What about the microphones on their computers or phones? Could someone have hacked into them?”

@revamandoricci @morte-dolce @leonlioness  (any or all of ya)

She’d spent the better part of the last twenty minutes trying to figure out where the signal was coming from on this weird transmission before hitting her com. “I need leadership down in the bay ASAP.” The hacker bay that was.

“What’s the urgency?” Amando replied, not about to come down for any whim of a thing that seemed off, like he had received many times before by the other hackers. 

Astrid had the remnants of a bit of baguette in her hand as she rounded the corner, gaze narrowing. “This better be good,” she deadpanned, thoroughly unamused by virtually everything at the moment.

Clémence was entirely silent as she responded to an urgent call, her slim frame remaining in the shadow of the doorway as Amando and Astrid spoke. The demoness was always amused at how much like siblings the pair appeared. She remained silent, however, with a familiar impassive expression.

“I know just the ones. Did they contact us?”

“One requirement: Udinov is not to be involved.” Sure that would limit the pool of soldiers, but Clémence was a woman of her word. And she’d given Gabriel her word. “Contact was made,” she stated fatly. 

“I could most certainly use some good news.” Amando replied, kissing his wife on the cheek when he passed her towards his desk, tossing his jacket on a nearby chair. “Good… That’s good.” He pondered. A pen grasped between his fingers to strike down a two lines from a long list. “Most of those I visited were either dead, in hiding, or turned against me. I found one however, she works for the vice president. She can be our eyes and ears, but it’ll be risky. Now we just need an army than the few numbers we have otherwise we’re useless.”

“Politicians.” Clémence rolled her eyes, attention falling to her fingertips as she feigned boredom. “Everything is always risky,” she shrugged nonchalantly not looking up until Amando mentioned they’d need an army. An eyebrow raised as she shook her head. “Don’t offend me; we never need an army.”

Secured Call - Clemence

007: Bring five soldiers, undercover. We’ll do the same.

- line disconnects - 

FIN

Secured Call - Clemence

007: Two in the afternoon. I’ll send you the coordinations later.

Her: Got it.

Secured Call - Clemence

007: It is time.

Her: He’ll be there. What time?

Secured Call - Clemence

- phone ringing - 

Her: Yes?

@morte-dolce

“Any news from your contacts?” Amando spoke as soon as he had closed the door behind them, away from any listening ears and prying eyes. His hand moved to open up his jacket, letting the heavy fabric slip from his shoulders. Rome was at it’s worse, and he figured that looking up contacts to help them out would be a wise idea. But no telephone contact, no internet. He had been visiting contacts the entire day, escaped a soldier here and there when he was unable to blend into a crowd. He hoped Clémence had a better day.

Contacts. Such a vague term for such a specific set of people. Clémence did not answer the question immediately and instead looked Amando over with a distinct satisfaction. “Rough day, Monsieur Lèmieux?” The assassin watched Amando carefully. “I have it on good authority Ricardo has lost quite a few of his trusted officials and guards. Security breakdown at its finest. Pity for him.”

She let Clemence guide her forward, blinking slightly as she was embraced. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant… far from it. It was simply entirely unexpected. 

Maggie tensed slightly at the question, considering for what seemed like a long awkward moment. Before now she’d been able to hide the original nightmares since she’d lived alone except for Moxie. No one’d ever known. She’d never told anyone. Was she starting with Clemence of all people? 

To be fair, Clem had been there when she’d been dragged to Rome to be executed by those that were supposed to protect her. She knew more than most.. and Maggie supposed there were far worse people to discuss it with.

Maggie let out a heavy breath, some of the tension draining from her though her body language still read hesitant. “Yes.”

Clémence allowed the silence a moment to linger, not pushing the girl as she came to terms with her particular predicament. Admittedly, Clémence had an idea of what had caused it, but there was a chance Magnolia had coped. Moved past it. It was doubtful, but entirely possible. 

A hand drifted over the crown of the girl’s head, fingers gently carding through her hair. The assassin maintained an impassive gaze trained somewhere in the distance, but her voice was uncharacteristically soft. “What is troubling you?”