The Party

Helena entered the room, behind her employer.  Dressed to the nines like everyone else, the man had paid for her attire, and concealed weapons because a holster wasn't going to quite fit her "look."  Thankfully that was outside of her overall expenses, unfortunately for her proper attire meant a black slinky dress and heels. At least the latter could be used as a weapon in a tight situation. The usual body guard crew came with him and she trailed behind as if she were another guest.  Carefully keeping her distance, a comm in one ear should it be necessary, the red head made his way through the crowd, he was way too easy to spot.  Sighing in frustration she looked up at the vantage points, annoyed she wasn't watching from above. But the idiot thought he would be safer if he had more people surrounding him. She rolled her eyes internally as the conversation replayed in her mind.  Like that big brute next to him would take a bullet let alone a knife for his employer. The guy was purely muscle, made for a good show dog but nothing else. He finally stopped and so did she, pulling out her compact she "applied makeup" while exploring other vantage points from her position

The Party

The main room of the Capital City Metropolitan Museum was a grand, marble-covered affair with columns and paintings and statues. There was a small jazz ensemble playing in one corner, people and waiters milling around the centerpiece of the foyer, a giant reproduction of a Tyrannosaurus skeleton from Earth-That-Was.

Darby Mackenzie, surrounded by people he didn't know and entirely out of his element at the party and in the rented tuxedo his handlers had insisted he wear. He looked at Helena and leaned in. "Do you like parties? I don't like parties. Who are all these people? That guy? I don't know him. And he's here for me!" He muttered with a goofy grin. "All of this security seems silly to me. But they insisted. Thanks all the same." After that he lapsed into an awkward silence as the party continued around them.

The lights of Capital City drifted beneath Empress's shuttle. The cigarello in Patrick O'Doyle's mouth burned nearly to the nub, and threatened to ash over his bleach white bow tie as the so-called brains of the operation glanced over at his companion. "I probably should've made sure we have air clearance, but I'm willing to roll the dice. If all those gorram lights wavin' back 'n' forth are any indication, I'm willin' to bet that's our party just over there." Trick pointed out the view panel with a smooth and practiced shooting gesture, making a barrel from his index finger and a hammer from his thumb.

The shuttle came down in the finely trimmed green near the museum's botanical gardens, landing more roughly than it's pilot intended. "Sorry," Trick chuckled as he snuffed out the end of his stogie in an ashtray as out of place for its presence in a shuttle as its ornate design, "I don't fly as often as I used to." O'Doyle unfastened himself from the seat's safety harness, fixed his jacket's buttons, and checked his cufflinks. "Don't offer any names. Names make faces easier to remember. If someone does ask, give them a fake. Well. Not that I have to tell you that..."

The commotion of the shuttle landing drew the gathered press's attention from those arriving properly at the front entrance. Tricky stepped off the shuttle with an easy wave and held a free hand aloft for Pele to take. The pair found a walk way and approached the entrance amidst awkward stares and flashing bulbs. After all, anyone making such a brazen entrance must be somebody, right?"Hello! Yes. Thank you! Pleasure to be here. How are you? Hi. Hey there. Valet? Yes, you. Here." Trick popped his free hand into the notch of his elbow, causing the transfer of kinetic energy to propel his cupped right hand forward at a swing and tossed the keys toward a random stander by in a red collared shirt. "Hope you know how to park a shuttle." Tricky's left arm held its crooked position at an angle for Pele to slip her arm into, if she chose to take it.

When the pair entered the museum, Patrick spoke through a constant, white-toothed smile as he continued shaking hands and winking like he knew everyone in the room. "Keep an eye out for our mark." Tricky instructed Pele as he tried to keep the beat with the jazz ensemble filling the air by snapping his fingers. Doubly, the sound of the snapping near the teeny tiny communicator hidden behind his ear as well as his dubious timing would signal to anyone paying attention that he and Pele were in. "I'll blow smoke while you slip him the mickey." Tricky's smile cracked for a passing moment as he glanced up at the towering skeletal frame in the center of the space. "What is that thing? I hate it."

The night before the job, Pele dreamt she lay in a luxurious king-sized bed, sandwiched between a snoring Marty and Tricky, who was smoking a gigantic cigar. Johann was sprawled at the foot of the bed, grinning and tickling her feet while X looked on, donning a schoolgirl uniform with a scandalously short skirt. Pele felt hot and sweaty and not exactly satisfied. In fact, despite the post-coital atmosphere of the scene, she wasn't sure if anything had even happened... yet. There was an anxious feeling of anticipation in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't know what for.

She was startled by a low, familiar chuckle, and she sat up. A tall, dark figure stood at the doorway, watching her. She recognized him even before he stepped over the doorstep and let the soft, red light of the boudoir hit his face.

"So, this is where you've run off to," Cecil said, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. As he looked her up and down he had that smile on his face, the one that seemed charming at first, until you noticed the underlying smugness of it and then, underneath that smugness, something darker, a predatory gleam, like a cat preparing to pounce its prey. Despite the crew crowding around her, Pele suddenly felt alone and helpless, and she pulled the covers up to her neck.

"Well, look at you," Cecil said, his voice dripping with a condescending amusement. "Are you sure these are the kind of people you want to get into bed with, cara mia?"

Before she could answer, Pele woke up with a jolt, shivering and nauseous.


"Keep an eye out for our mark."

Tricky's voice pulled Pele from the thoughts of her dream (nightmare?) and back to the present. Right, they were at the party; part of her was amazed they'd even made it this far. She'd never say it to his face but she had to hand it to Tricky, that man had a very effortless way of pulling the wool over people's eyes. She'd let him do most of the elaborate maneuvering, settling for the role of the pretty, passive arm candy, occasionally using her smile to blind anyone who seemed like they were getting a little too nosy. She'd responded to Tricky's witty banter in like; it seemed like she could never escape this kind of pseudo-flirtatious dance she'd had to spend most of her life doing.

"I'll blow smoke while you slip him the mickey."

"I thought blowing smoke was my job," she said under her breath, flashing a smile at a party guest who passed them and let his eyes linger on her for just a moment too long. She hadn't brought out the big seduction guns for tonight, opting for an elegant but modest dress in a pale powdery shade of blue. Her perfume was a light floral with a touch of vanilla, as inoffensive and blandly pleasant as she presumed their mark to be. Her goal was not to be smouldering, but approachable and, hopefully, forgettable in the long run. Just another pretty face in a crowd of pretty faces -- emphasis still on the pretty, of course.

"What is that thing? I hate it," Tricky said, staring up at the towering replica of a Tyrannosaur skeleton and cementing Pele's impression that he wasn't very highly educated.

"What's the matter?" she asked with mock sincerity, a sneer tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Intimidated, are we?"

Before Pele could milk that train of thought for any juicy jabs at Tricky's manhood, she suddenly straightened her posture and gently tapped his arm with her free hand. With a small, barely perceptible nod of her head, she gestured towards MacKenzie, who was standing across the room and chatting up a young woman completely out of his league. He wasn't difficult to notice: with his sheepish demeanor and rental suit, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Marty picked up the binoculars from the dash of the shuttle. He zoomed in on the main room which, to his benefit, was almost nothing but glass, so the party goers might have a better view of the city around them. He scanned through the room and spotted Darby awkwardly working a small crowd. Even from here his body language was geeky. Though, in his research for the job, Miller had noticed that he actually agreed with a lot of the guy's proposals.

Momentarily dismissing the sinking feeling of his part in this man's undoing, he got on the comms:

"Oy, mark is main room of the museum... Trick, Shiri, Suri, Shiri, or whatever your name is, keep heading that way straight past the ice sculpture. Mark's next to a rather fetching brunette..."

He zoomed in further... watching her... watch the room. Marty clicked the comms back on:

"Aaand I think the brunette is on the job, stay sharp. "

Marty started tapping on the dashboard again. All he could do now was just sit and watch... as they helped elect a criminal. A slight knot formed in his stomach as he pushed the thought from his mind once again and he checked the radar screen as he tapped and tapped away on the dashboard. His cortex unit in his pocket buzzed. Probably just Mason bugging him about more corporate nonsense or a family drama he couldn't be bothered with right now. He muted it and started checking the skyline for feds.

As Johann sat on the rooftop with the lovely Miss X, his thumb went numb from having it stuck up his ass for so long. Or so it felt. Tricky lived up to his name, time and again, and if Johann wasn't the loyal-to-a-guy-who'd-saved-his-life type, and if his treats didn't generally outweigh his Tricks, Johann would have parted ways with him long ago. The thing was, Patrick O'Doyle was a showy sonofabitch and sometimes got caught up with the idea of being a crook, rather than actually doing much crooking. Still, for the aforementioned reasons, Johann hadn't yet found a compelling argument to get rid of Tricky that Tricky couldn't talk him out of. Yet.

"Oy, mark is in the main room of the museum... Trick, Shiri, Suri, Shiri, or whatever your name is, keep heading that way straight past the ice sculpture. Mark's next to a rather fetching brunette..."

Was that Marty? Was Marty telling him that Trick was already at the party? Not only at the party, inside the party! Johann was fuming. He had a mind to tell each and every one of them to bugger off and he and X could go be professionals somewhere. He tossed her a look that said as much but then remembered how far they'd come. And sitting on this roof for as long as they had with no payday? He didn't like that at all. "Radio silence, boykie." He said, not listening to the end of Marty's report.

Johann jogged over to the open air conditioning vent, twirling a finger in the air and signaling to X that they better get a move on. Suddenly it was they who were running late. He scooped up the rope and hooked it to his harness and took his position as belay. Footholds he'd hammered into the roof met his boots and, when he felt it, nodded to X that he was ready to lower her down. "Alright, poppet. Show time."

X returned Johann’s look with a grin and silent laughter. When Johann approached, she slipped out of his way, moving her hip far to the left and then to the right, finalizing her stretching regiment. Her eyes followed him while he got himself ready for her portion of the job, her fingers clenching and opening wide in time to a tune she’d gotten stuck in her head. Another hard yank proved that her own connection to the rope was secure before she moved like a shadow back to the air vent. Nearing the man, she carefully maneuvered around him until she could set her forehead against his for just a moment, as though praying to the gods of luck and villainy for their success. Pulling back, the girl winked at him and wiggled her shoulders, then slipped down into the vent slowly and carefully.

Her descent was smooth and slow, as perfect as it could ever have been thanks to Johann’s and she touched down silently within the beginning of the vent’s corridors. Pausing for a moment, X pulled back her glove’s sleeve to eye the little map she’d drawn on her arm of the interior layout of the vent systems. It was old-school and probably unnecessary, but she liked to have some low-tech tools with her on these kinds of missions. It made it harder for someone to know what she was up to. Couldn’t hack into her arm, could they? With a little nod, her glove pulled back into place, the contortionist made her way through the vents, quiet as a mouse, her brows furrowed beneath her bangs in concentration.

Before too long, she reached a grate. A quick peek through the slats confirmed that she was above the potential politician’s office and her lips quirked upward at the corners. Reaching up to the comms unit on her shoulder, the output volume turned all the way down, she tapped the PTT twice to signal that she was ready and put the earbud into her ear, turning the coms up to barely audible as she in turn waited for the signal that Trick had the target and his entourage sufficiently distracted and well away from the office. The girl sat crouched and coiled around the exit vent, chin on her knees and gaze cast down below.

Quote. "Do you like parties? I don't like parties. Who are all these people? That guy? I don't know him. And he's here for me! All of this security seems silly to me. But they insisted. Thanks all the same."

Helena offered a forced smile to her patron. She nodded absentmindedly as she continued to watch the room. Truthfully she did enjoy a good party, even a fancy party. This was the guy she'd be avoiding though, or sizing up as a potential mark. After all look at the guy, his entire demeanor screamed "take my money". But unfortunately, she was here to protect him.  Helena sighed letting go the wistful thought of a job that would be far more interesting. As she continued to scan the room, she couldn't quite shrug off the feeling that some was watching her. 

That was quickly interrupted however by a familiar face.  Helena squinted at Mr. tall dark and handsome across the room.  She knew him, but couldn't quite remember from where. Maybe Iscariot...what was it Travis...no, Trampy? Probably, that sounded like it fit him. Not that he wasn't fun to look at. In another situation she'd probably find her way moving in that direction. But not today, his presence made her uneasy.  Breaking her gaze, Helena put her hand on her employer moving him closer into the fold of his security team.

"What's the matter?" Tricky's eyes continued to scan the room, locking on to MacKenzie and his striking escort even before Pele's well-placed silent signal. "Intimidated, are we?"

Marty's instructions came over the earpiece he wore, followed by Pele's nod. It gave Trick a moment to think a little overlong about where the brunette might be hiding her holster.

"No, Miss Shiri. Not tonight." The woman moved their mark closer to a group of event security trying awfully hard not to look like event security. The wheels turned in O'Doyle's head and he wondered if he recognized the woman from somewhere. More importantly, he wondered why, of all the information he'd been fed by those that put him on the job, no one mentioned her before.  It occurred to him then that he never bothered to let the team know he was entering the building, but he was sure they were on it like the pros he knew them to be.

Tricky felt a sudden urge to break his stare at the brunette, turning his head to smile and nod to someone he was much more confident that he'd never met before. "Hey there! Fancy seeing you here. Doin' alright? Good! Good. Hey, you know me! If I were doing any better I'd have to be twins just to handle it! Ha ha ha yeah, still get that dang ol' ringin' in my ear every now and then!" Tricky made an exaggeratedly annoyed expression as he pressed a finger into his ear. "Y'all get a move on, I'll zigzag the brunette."

The call went out after Johann demanded radio silence, of course, but Tricky had been too busy hamming it up with the locals to bother listening. He took Pele by the arm and pulled her into the crowd, leaning in close with a mischievously flirtatious look. "Let's split up. Work that security team if you have to. I need to get a drink." Tricky took a tumbler from a passing drink tray, adjusted his tie, and meandered about for a moment before finally approaching Helena. He didn't bother making any eye contact, or attracting her attention however. Instead, he shuffled in sideways, pinging off the shoulders of passers by and wheeling around this way and that before finally getting in close enough to brush up against Helena and spill the mixed tonic down her slinky black dress. "Ah heck! I am so sorry, miss - say, have we met?"

Hands finally free, Johann settled in on the roof and tried to remain as out of sight as possible. According to their research, there was no other rooftop access other than a maintenance ladder on the west side of the building. He assumed it wouldn't be in use tonight by a nosy janitor or amorous guests of the party looking for a discreet place to snog. It was from surrounding viewpoints he was trying to avoid. The museum was dwarfed considerably by neighboring skyscrapers and, despite the late hour, the gala was attention grabbing with its red carpet and spotlights shooting skyward. But Johann was all in black and keeping to the shadows. He would, for the time being, have to assume he was hidden.

"Y'all get a move on, I'll zigzag the brunette."

"Brunette? What brunette? I have dossiers on his entire security team." A cortex reader appeared from out of his pocket. As he swiped his fingers over the case files, a flurry of three tough men with mean mugs flew by, each balder than the last. "No brunettes. Just Big, Bigger, and Ugly." He had their names, but that would do little to help those with eyes on. The additional security team member didn't necessary wrench their plans, but it was a complication that should have been foreseen. Johann wondered how they could have possibly missed it.

His stomach dropped. The only solution was that they'd been given information that was, at the very least, out of date if not outright incorrect. At worst it was entirely fabricated and they were in for a world of hurt. Johann considered calling the job entirely. But they were in too deep, some of them literally. He needed to find out more about this brunette. "Trick. Snap me the goose and I'll run her face, yeah?"

"I........ aaaam sooo booorreedd....."

Marty crooned, in almost sultry manner. He was really leaning into it. Performing his pi gu off for an audience of none, he cranked up the vibrato:

"Baaaabyyy I.... am so mothulohoholuving borrred...."

He punched the air as if to punctuate a note from the band playing in the background.

"Buuut baby! ... I am not to bored to fu-"

BANG BANG BANG BANG

The pilot froze for just a second.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

"Bollocks..."

He never saw anyone coming up on the security cameras. Then again, he'd been kinda flailing about really enjoying his performative boredom for a couple minutes now. He tapped the button to switch to a view of the rear hatch. A middle aged security guard had been smacking the hull of his stolen ambulance with a flashlight. He panned the camera slightly and saw the man was carrying a simple stun pistol on his hip besides the over-sized flashlight.

Johann reminded him to dress the part and was wearing a uniform he obtained by simply walking up to a paramedic at a pub across from a hospital and offering him 200 credits to have a couple of his uniforms. The first medic winked at him kinda weirdly after he offered, so he walked to the other side of the bar and asked them and made it clear it wasn't a weird sex thing. And they winked too so he just washed them a couple times and didn't tell anyone about this part of picking up the uniforms.

Marty threw open the door at the back hatch. The guard stumbled back and put his hand on his stun pistol but quickly relaxed slightly in his stance, seeing it was an apparently unarmed Medic.

"Aaayyyy sorry, mate. I'm just on union break and I wanted to sneak in a nap. You guys strict about parking? I can move."

Part of what he said was true. The former stuntman didn't really need to stay on this particular rooftop. If he sold this right, he might be able to just move the flying ambulance someplace nearby that can at least be at the front entrance in ninety seconds. He'd worked out a rough radius he could stick to and he might give up the vantage point but still stick to his primary job of being there to exfiltrate Johann and Xiǎodāo.

Marty smiled big for the guard. Trying to harness every last drop of the classic Miller family charm.

Helena had lost the dapper gentleman in the crowd. But that wasn't important now, her job was to focus on her employer and his safety, and something just didn't feel right. They moved slowly through the through the cparty, the low murmur of conversation surrounding them.  The silence was almost soothing...until a very cold, and wet substance trickled down her back.

"For all that is good and holy in the 'verse. Qing wa cao de liu mang." Helena clamped down on her back teeth in an attempt to keep quiet turning she looked to see who her assailant was. But of course. Trampy. Her lips turned inward and audible click could be heard as she forced the rage into grinding her teeth. The urge to stab the man was taking over but money was far too necessary. So she conveyed her desire to murder him in a private setting with the assistance of body language.

Grabbing him swiftly by the jacket she hissed, "What. Do you think. Your doing?" Each word enunciated thoroughly. It was unfortunate that he smelled so good and was so damn handsome, he would make a very attractive corpse.

His drink properly spilled down the back of her dress, the brunette turned to Tricky and snatched a handful of his jacket. The look in her eye - being so indicative of her desire to do him bodily harm - struck him in a way that assured him he'd seen it before, but he couldn't remember for the life of him where.

"What. Do you think. Your doing?" She accentuated the phrase in such a way that Tricky grew certain she wanted to see him squirm before committing whatever act of violence would come to mind first, and while his interest piqued and he began to recognize why the women might've left such an impression on him, his face showed only confusion as Johann's voice buzzed over his hidden earpiece.

"Trick. Snap me the goose and I'll run her face, yeah?"

Tricky didn't try to slip from the woman's grasp, but only lifted the sleeve of his jacket just slightly to allow the cortex watch on his wrist to attempt to focus on the woman's face. Light reflected off the screen as Tricky tried to position for a better shot, setting the beam to dance upon the brunette's cheeks and eyes. "Is that close enough?" Tricky asked Johann as he looked the woman dead in her eye, giving no indication that the question wasn't intended for her.

Johann pulled up the feed from Tricky's watch, the image taking a few seconds to load. He waited, his breath halted, as it crackled and pixelated and loaded. This could throw a big wrench into their plans, especially if whomever this chippy was knew who they were. They should have foreseen this. Sloppy planning was the culprit and Johann blamed everyone except for himself. If they'd just killed the guy... and then the image clarified and Johann's reaction was anything other than what might have been expected.

Cackling, riotous, belly-aching laughter.

"Bahahaha! Oh Christ, it's Helena Cain!" Johann assumed that if her face didn't jog a memory for Tricky, then her name wouldn't help. "She's a regular at Iscariot, Trick. She erm... kicked you in the tenders about six-months back. After that thing with the Osirian woman. Can't believe you don't remember, though of course, I'd bloody try to forget it, too." A weight lifted off of Johann's shoulders. She was just as crooked as they were. Or at least, traveled in the same circles. While Johann didn't particularly like that Helena had made off with the loot on that particular occasion, he admired her mettle and assumed she'd take a payday same as they would.

They would be fine.

Johann leaned back with a smile. "X, love, how we doin'?"

"X, love, how we doin'?"

Vents

The moment she'd heard the flirty commotion over the comms, X had taken that as her signal that the target and his goonies were being properly distracted. Trick excelled at that, after all, being loud and boisterous and attracting all the gazes in a room. Particularly when those eyes belonged to women. She placed the long metal anchor across the width of the vent and quickly extended it by a few inches, sufficiently locking its position with outward pressure. With one more quick tug to check the security of her harness, the girl clipped herself to the anchor and stretched as much as she could in the cramp confines of the vent.

A screwdriver was pulled from her small toolkit and she set to undoing the latches on the grating, setting it aside slowly and carefully to keep it from making any echoing noises. With that, X activated the wench on the anchor and began to lower herself through the opening, moving slowly and looking around as she descended. She paused a moment, spotting a mug with half finished and increasingly chilled coffee sat atop a pile of paperwork. Convenient, but expected. Once she was hovering over the desk, she reached a gloved hand into her backpack and pulled out the carefully wrapped package. Slowly, keeping her ear out for incoming footsteps, X set to undoing the airtight container to reveal the treasure within. One half filled syringe, two vials of what filled the syringe, and a few empty and apparently 'used' containers and drug paraphernalia.
 
Holding her breath, she began to arrange the items on his desk in a believable spread, using a little cloth to wipe some reside onto the handle of his mug as well as onto the pens and pencils available to her. She closed the container and turned her body about, pulling herself back up the rope and stuffing herself into the vent once more. When the vent was screwed back into place, she tapped on the PTT twice again, finally responding to Johann's question about her progress. Her job was done. The rest was up to the main team and the cop in their pocket.

Location: The Party

Pele's gaze followed Tricky as he moved through the crowd and approached the beautiful brunette. For a moment she wondered if the conman was looking to mix pleasure with business, but "accidentally" spilling wine on someone was a distraction trick so old that even a relatively law-abiding Companion like her saw through it. The woman, now fuming, directer her attention to Tricky, leaving her back turned to McKenzie. Three hulking bodyguards remained, so the coast wasn't completely clear, but now was as good a time as any to begin laying the groundwork.

"Excuse me, Mr. McKenzie?" she asked softly, slowly approaching the man from the sidelines. She had a shy, apologetic smile on her lips, and as she came closer she glanced up at the bodyguards as if asking them for permission, unsure of whether it was proper for her to approach a person important enough to be accompanied by security. When she talked, however, she addressed McKenzie directly.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to impose on you. It just felt a little odd to mingle with all these people without actually greeting the man of the hour himself..."

Don't overdo it, she reminded herself. She'd overdone it with Marty, and she could not afford to do that now, not when her mark seemed to be stone cold sober and surrounded by a bunch of ugly brutes ready to drag her outside by her toned yet silky arms. This was not like a Companion job: a Companion's client wanted to indulge in the fantasy, it was a mutual agreement between two parties. The rules were different when you were outright deceiving people.

Quote from: Tricky on October 07, 2019, 07:48:06 PM"Is that close enough?"

Is that close enough? Is that close enough? Was he goading her? Did he not remember their last encounter? A flicker of light hit Helena's eyes, blinding her momentarily.  Helena blinked, still annoyed, by everything, so annoyed that she hadn't even noticed the woman behind her sidling up to her employer.  Stupid move on her part but attractive men and things that angered her were her kryptonite, thus making her one of the easiest marks in this situation.

"Listen here Trampy, I don't know what you're doing here. But I don't like it. I've got work to do and I don't have the time to show you how to take a proper beating again. Do us both a favor, and leave."

Her grip remained tightly on her assailant's jacket, but only briefly. She released giving him a slight push away but not so hard that it would knock him backwards. A growl of frustration escaped the back of her mouth as she looked at her dress. Helena snatched some napkins out of the hands of a nearby waiter and wiped down what she could.

The woman blinked at Patrick O'Doyle like she couldn't believe his audacity. "Well. Reckon maybe she don't know me much after all." "Listen here Trampy," "Oh, she knows." "I don't know what you're doing here. But I don't like it." "Bahahaha! Oh Christ, it's Helena Cain!" Tricky shook his head and shrugged, mostly in response to Johann as he struggled to keep from sharing in his business partner's bizarrely infectious laughter. "Who's that?" O'Doyle didn't bother covering up his question. "I've got work to do and I don't have the time to show you how to take a proper beating again." "She's a regular at Iscariot, Trick. She erm... kicked you in the tenders about six-months back. After that thing with the Osirian woman. Can't believe you don't remember, though of course, I'd bloody try to forget it, too." "Well, you know..." "Do us both a favor, and leave."

Tricky's smile was full blown by the time Helena pushed him away and began to towel herself off as best as she could. "Why, Helena Cain! By jingo - I thought that was you! I haven't seen you much around Iscariot lately. Keeping busy, ain'tcha?" Tricky reached forward as if to help Helena dry herself off, a ploy he hoped would distract her from watching his head as he tilted it to see around her where "Siri" had MacKenzie's full attention. He wished he'd had a full glass to toast his accomplice with. "I'm afraid I can't be moseyin' off just now. Working a bit of a job myself." A gambling man as always, Tricky let loose the dice. "What are you making on this job of yours? Whadya say I cut you in on mine, and you just head on to the ladies' room to freshen up." Tricky winced visibly in response to the protest and admonishment coming in loud and clear over his earpiece, but his honey-dripped smile returned in short order. "I'll even cover the dry cleaning." He topped the offer off with a sly wink and awaited Helena's reply.

PARTY

While Big, Bigger, and Ugly seemed to keep a wary side-eye on Pele approaching the Candidate, they were a bit preoccupied with the tricks O'Doyle seemed to be playing. Despite their brute-like appearance, all three seemed ready to spring on him at Helena's signal, whose dress was most certainly ruined.

McKenzie, flustered by Pele's attentions and blushing from his neck up, floundered for words like a landed trout. "Oh... erm... well... I don't know if I would, well... man of the hour? No... you're the real hero..." Talking points handed out by his handlers flew right out of his mind. And then, Darby closed his eyes and took a deep breath and sipped his drink. "Terribly sorry. I'm just so nervous. I've never done anything like this before." He said gesturing to the lavish accommodations around them. "I just don't feel like myself." A real human moment passed over his face as he looked at Pele. "You ever feel like that, Miss...?" He trailed off, allowing Pele to introduce herself.

ROOFTOP

Had Marty been at his post, he might have noticed a lone hover vehicle park in front of the Museum and sit idling.

Location: The Party

Hook, line, sinker. Pele had figured McKenzie wasn't used to getting attention from women, especially not women as stunning as her, but she hadn't expected her charms to be this effective. The man was like a cartoon character, falling all over himself and turning the bright shade of a lobster before her very eyes.

"I just don't feel like myself. You ever feel like that, Miss...?"

What a dweeb, Pele thought. And yet...

"Please, call me Amanda," she said, offering her hand for a handshake. She had chosen a different alias for their mission to cover up the fact that Shiri wasn't her real name either, although she had a feeling most of the crew had already caught on to her and were just playing along for the sake of some crook code.

"All this formality is making me queasy. I'm not a big fan of parties myself, believe it or not. I'd much rather be home curled up with a good book, but one has to make certain sacrifices if one wants to meet the most promising Mayoral candidate this city's seen in years."

She tilted her head and smiled warmly, sizing up her prey while she was at it. McKenzie was a far cry from any politician she'd had the displeasure of meeting. She had known this coming into the job, had heard about his academic background and saintly campaign platform, watched video footage of him, and yet, it was different when she was standing right next to him. She wasn't sure why she was getting hung up on his lack of finesse. That just made him an easier target, right?

There was a lump in Pele's throat all of a sudden. She scanned the room, looking for a waiter bearing a drink she could grab. The drugging part was what worried her the most; her strong suit was distractions and subterfuge, not sleight of hand. She wished Tricky would be done with his little detour already and come lend her a hand.