A Royal Catastrophe (Mali and Quix)

A letter had come into the mail. It was from her ex-husband’s mother who lived in Bristol. The news wasn’t good. In fact, the news was devastating. It broke her heart and she covered her mouth, her eyes watering up. Sure, Carrie Lassiter and her ex were no longer together but that was because a relationship, let alone a marriage with the man was literally impossible.

News like this would be insane for her daughter, Schuyler. All Sky knew about her father was that he was from England, visited twice a year and that he and her mother were perfect for each other if oil and vinegar could ever truly mix without separating again.

Edward Crumholtz and Carrie met while she was studying abroad at Oxford. He was a graduate student at the time and she was in her second year of undergraduate studies. It was love at first sight and they were married within the year.

A little while after, Carrie found out she was pregnant, just nine months into their marriage. After their daughter, Schuyler, was born, a year later, Carrie filed for divorce. Irreconcilable differences and if Edward wanted to stay in her good graces and not be completely hated by her, it was unavoidable. She took herself and Sky back to America and that was where they had been ever since. Every year, Edward would come to visit, to be as involved in his daughter’s life as he could. He could only get out to America once or twice a year but he made it worth it. Carrie was fine with that. Sometimes they had their special moments together but that was because even though their marriage didn’t work, didn’t mean they didn’t still love each other. There was always that pull.

It was heart breaking for her to hear the death of her beloved. But it also meant that she had to tell Sky. Even if he only visited once or twice a year, he still managed to forge a close bond with his daughter.
“Hey Mom.”
Stuffing the letter away, Carrie turned to her. “Hi sweetie.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, just a letter from your grandma.”
“What about?”
Carrie sighed softly and she walked toward her daughter. She sat Sky down on the couch and she looked at her. “According to your grandmother, your father has passed away. She hasn’t included the details. I don’t think she really knows. She just found out and she sent a message as soon as she could.”

Sky was stunned into silence and her eyes watered. Sure, her dad only came to visit once or twice a year but she knew he was a very busy man. She had been a baby when her parents divorced. She understood. Every time he came to visit, it meant the world to her. It showed he really did love her and when he was here, he made it count. He didn’t come for a day. He came for a month. It felt like they were a less dysfunctional family when he was in town.

Sky and Carrie were like two peas in a pod. Obviously. They were daughter and mother after all. Carrie always had this zest for life, adventure and excitement. While she was married to Edward, they traveled most of Europe before she got pregnant. She hoped the same for Sky, that she would get to travel and see the world. As much of it as she could.

Sky wanted that too. She wanted to see the world, she wanted adventure, hell, she’d even sleep with the director of a ballet company to get where she wanted in her career. Growing up, she had always been a very outgoing and loud person. Not obnoxiously loud but she always made her presence known whether it was simply the way she carried herself or by some big statement, even if it was just ‘Hey.’ When she was just a little girl, she used to be the quietest and shyest girl. That all changed when she turned five and dominated the sandbox from the big kids, taking it back for all the littler kids. She ruled with peace, justice and always shared her juice boxes. And she also swapped the hot chocolate for liquid sand for the meanest kids. Classic. Good times.

In elementary school, middle school and high school, she always stayed active and got involved in as many school sponsored activities as she could. She started dancing classical ballet, jazz and contemporary toward the end of elementary school and she had kept up with it, even now. She also joined the track team toward the end of middle school and continued all throughout high school. She even lettered and placed at several competitions. As for dancing, she had her senior showcase and from that, was offered a scholarship to an amazing performing arts college. Her dream was to be handpicked into New York’s top ballet company and truly make her mark in her talent and art.

Right now, she was in her third year of college. She had a showcase this year and if she did well, she could graduate early and go on to New York. If not, she had another year to really make a huge impact. She worked hard, trained, ran, always kept herself on top of her game. She was competitive and when she was younger, insanely and obsessively competitive. Now, she had mellowed out but she would deck someone if they tried to deck her first.

Things were going pretty smoothly in her life. As for her love life, well Sky could never stick to one man. She had five boyfriends. None of them knew about the other and she balanced them perfectly. They each had something that the other didn’t. And if all these five guys were to fuse into one person, they would be ultimate perfect man. One, Chester was handsomely sensitive. Another, Jared was a sex god, but he was a complete asshole who fucked several other girls. He thought Sky didn’t know but there was very little that happened that she didn’t know about. But she didn’t care. Another, Jameson scored her hard liquor, particularly Jameson Whiskey. They partied together and he was amazing at going down on her, but he had a small dick. Vesper, the fourth boyfriend, was an ace with intimacy and when she needed a real pick-me-up, she could rely on him to bring her out whatever funk she was in. And then finally, there was her ballet instructor’s assistant, Ethan. He helped to train her and ‘train’ her some more. It was wild, it was hot, it was exciting and at the end of the day, he helped to improve her dancing technique like no other. But he was also vain, narcissistic and she hated it when he wore his tights even outside of the dance studio.

Then this bomb about her dad broke out and she felt like her world was starting to crash down on her. In her mind, she had a perfect life. She had a loving mother, a loving father, she was going places in her career and she could swing with the best and worst of them. Now, a fraction of that perfect life had died and the rest of it seemed to want to fall. Like a string that had been cut, or a bridge that just broke down and fell into the river way down below.

“Are you okay sweetie?” her mom asked.
“No. Are you?”
“No.” Carrie frowned and pulled Sky into her arms. “It’s going to be okay sweet pea.” She whispered. Sky started crying and nodded her head. They still had each other and they would make it through this.

Her mom pulled back and tucked a lock of Sky’s fiery red hair behind her ear. “I love you.”
“I love you too Mom. I know he loved you too.”
“I know he did. I did too. And he loved you so much.”
“I know.” She smiled meekly. Her mom wiped her tears away and then Sky did the same for her.

Carrie then looked toward the door when she heard a knock sounding. “I’ll be right back.” She kissed her forehead and got up to answer it.
Opening the door, a man in a black suit and black shades stood looking well put together. “Good afternoon.” He had some kind of European accent. She wasn’t sure if it was Scottish or Irish. “Are you Carrie Lassiter, mother of Schuyler Lassiter?”
“Yes, what can I help you with?” Those were the last words she’d ever speak.

The man raised a gun and he shot her right in the forehead. Carrie fell back on the ground, dead. There was no silencer on the gun and Sky heard the sound.

“Mom?!” She came to the door and saw her mother lying dead on the ground.
The man saw her and raised his gun at her. She jumped out of the way just in time when the shot went off, the bullet embedding into the wall. Fear coursed through her, her adrenaline shot way up but it pushed her into survival mode. The Lassiter women were anything but the ones to freeze up in a moment of catastrophe.

She stood up quickly and ran through the house, the man on her tail. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife from the knife block and turned around. Just as she did, he got right in her face and she held the knife right under his chin. She felt the barrel of his gun at her stomach. “We’re both just as fast.” She panted.
“I just need to pull the trigger and you’ll be dead too.”
“I’m faster.”
“Are you willing to wager?”
“Depends how much you want to keep talking.” She was very good as distracting apparently.

The man took in a deep breath and he looked her over. “They didn’t say I couldn’t have fun with you first.”
“Is that right?” Her fear levels spiked higher. She liked sex. Rape was a no-no. Unless it was sexy role play.
“I do believe it is.”
“Is sex your weakness or strength?”
“Strength.”
“Are pretty women your weakness or strength?” She asked.

He only grinned. It was a salacious, malicious and downright perverted grin that made her skin crawl. He was just about to move away when she pushed the knife up with all her strength, embedding the blade up his throat and into his mouth. He made this gurgling sound as he choked on his own blood. He stumbled back and his finger around the trigger of his gun pulled. Sky deflected but the bullet grazed her side.

She fell down to the ground and gripped it as it bled. The man fell to the ground, drowned in his blood, dead. Sky breathed hard and fast and her eyes stung with tears. First her dad and now her mom. What the hell was happening in the world? What was scarier was that he said ‘they.’ Who were ‘they?’

The people of the Western World remained in mourning, no more than the citizens of the United Kingdom.

Finally, the ever popular Prince Harry had met a young woman - a long-legged blonde to no-one’s surprise - with whom he desired to spend more than a week without cheating upon, and under pressure from his Father, had proposed Marriage. Evelyn Dimarco had accepted, and the wedding had been set for the twenty-second day of March, the first day of a glorious English Spring. As befitted his status as the common man’s Prince, instead of the usual pomp and ceremony associated with such an occasion, Harry had elected to follow one of the traditions of his favourite Colony, Australia, and throw an informal barbeque in the grounds of Buckingham Palace in place of a gilt-edged reception. That had been a fatal mistake.

With the amount of people to be catered for, and sausages, hamburger patties and pheasants to cook, the number of gas lines required to be installed had been massive. All it had taken was a minuscule leak in a single pipe to create an explosion large enough to wipe out every known member of the British Royal Family in one fell swoop, as well as a number of well-known celebrities, Elton John and Justin Beiber amongst them. Which was no big loss.

The Government had declared a three month period of mourning after the devastating accident and stated that the throne would remain vacant for a year out of respect for the now late Queen Elizabeth, and her reign as Britain’s longest-serving Monarch. Of course, talk had immediately turned as to who would be next to sit upon the throne. Imagine the public’s shock when, after an extensive lineage search, it was revealed to be Vladimir Ovnokov; a British born citizen and suspected Russian Mafia overlord with a number of high-profile British Parliamentarians in his pocket. His entitlement dated back to an illicit affair between Princess Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa and the Tsar of Russia in the Nineteenth century.

The citizens had revolted, but what could be done? Laws were laws, history was history, the Monarchy was the Monarchy, and in the multitude’s opinion Great Britain wouldn’t be Great without it. The war-mongering criminal mastermind, politician bribing, philandering, woman-beating pimp would be anointed in nine months time unless another solution could be found. Even the man himself had been smart enough not to push for immediate ascendancy, and that’s where MI6 Special Agent Ben Roberts entered the equation.

Barely minutes after the exposition of Vladimir Ovnokov's right to sit upon the throne, his superiors; those who weren’t on the Russian’s payroll; had begun to scour all available records in search of a resolution to the dilemma. Finally, one had been uncovered. Buried deep in the British Library archives was a document that contained an unsubstantiated and previously discounted rumour that the ‘Virgin Queen’, Elizabeth I had been wildly misnamed, and borne a child at seventeen years of age in the year fifteen-seventy. If true, and descendants could be located, they’d take precedence in the secession.

The exhumation and forensic examination of the first Elizabeth’s remains had swiftly followed, which had confirmed that she was indeed about as much a virgin as the fabled Biblical Mary and had birthed at least one child. A month of twenty-four hour a day investigations and research had then narrowed down her possible living descendants to two. An American mother and daughter, both with British heritage and residency status due to the husband and father having been born in England.

All the thirty-three-year-old operative, who’d arrived in the USA earlier that morning, had to do was to convince them to return to England, and undergo DNA comparisons to confirm their legitimacy before they were revealed to the Public. A simple task. Unless news of the discovery had also been leaked to the Russian Mafia, and those in the British Intelligence Services and Parliament loyal to Ovnokov’s never-ending stream of cash and beautiful young Eastern European prostitutes.

The six-foot-two, dark haired, brown eyed male, with slim athletic build, ruddy and pale complexion and oh-so-British accent, appraised the surroundings with a careful eye as he approached the American’s residence. With no danger in sight and no neighbours present, he felt confident that they’d be on a plane before the day was out, and on English soil by the next morning. That was before he arrived at the boundary fence and gazed upon the front door. The open front door.

BANG

Ben Roberts reacted with the speed of a cobra, as he reached into his overcoat to withdrawing a Rutger thirty-eight calibre pistol, and dropped to a crouch behind the fence. He peeked around, then realised that he couldn’t delay for surveillance, as otherwise both woman would be dead before he arrived to help. So, he moved to his feet and swung the gun side to side as he ran.

“Shit.”

The agent swore when he almost tripped over the dead woman with a hole in her head who lay on the floor, the exclamation caused more by the knowledge that there now remained only one living descendant than the sight itself, then sprinted after the running figure being chased by a man in black. As he reached the kitchen, Ben dropped to his knees, raised the barrel of the Rutger and took aim at the back of the man’s head. And that’s the way he remained, with a smile on his face, as the feisty Schuyler trumped the man’s verbal taunts then stuck a knife in his throat, and both fell to the floor in a bloody heap. The sound of the assailants gun firing as he dropped had made Ben jump, and regret his decision not to intervene, however, a swift expert appraisal told him that it was only a graze, and he holstered his weapon to approach the bodies, one dead, one alive.

His foot first touched the man and rolled him over to get a proper look at his face, “Russian, I believe, the British prefer pin-stripe,” before he focused on the woman, and offered a hand to help her up. “Bravo, though I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not the first time a member of the Royal Family has solved a problem with violence. In fact, it’s how they ascended the throne. Sorry about your Mother; and I wish we could stay and allow you the chance to say your goodbyes, but there’s no time to dally. We need to get out of here and have that wound tended. This one was just the advance party. I’m Ben.”

It was a sense of wide panic and fear that coursed through her. It made her blood feel like it was boiling but whether it was anger, fear or both, she was unsure. It felt like both and the shaking that shocked through her body made it difficult to do anything much. She wanted to cower, curl up in the fetal position cry, willing this nightmare to be over; that her mother wasn’t really dead and she didn’t really just get grazed by a bullet.

But once the man she had killed fell away and once she opened her wet eyes, she was able to see through the sheen of tears and see another man. He held a gun and she wasn’t sure who he was pointing to. But perhaps he was part of the ‘they’ that the now dead man was talking about. Gripping her side, Sky pushed herself back, further against the kitchen cabinets and she looked up. She wiped her eyes and sniffled.

Looking up at the man, he spoke and this time she could distinctly tell that his accent was British. Or just a very refined Australian since she never could tell the difference between that type. But most likely, British since his accent was similar to that of her father’s. But this man didn’t stop speaking. He offer the lamest of condolences for her mother which just made her jaw drop. But even more, he said they had to go. She couldn’t save her mom and she couldn’t give her a proper funeral? Did this man not notice that she was also grazed by a bullet that hurt like such a huge mother-fucker?!

“Jeez, you know my dad was right about you all. Aside from him, most of you are heartless!” She spat out at him. “You’re no different!” She huffed and then moved to stand but only winced because she twisted her body in a weird way that pulled at her wound. Leaning back against the counter, she looked down at her side and her eyes blinked quickly at the sight of blood. Sky was many things but what she wasn’t was impervious to the sight of blood, especially hers.

Her head spun and her knees went weak but she’d be damned if she fainted in front of this man. She didn’t even know who he was, neither did she trust him and he could be saying all this stuff, but perhaps that was simply a ploy he was using that the other had been oblivious about. “I am not going anywhere with you. The dead guy who murdered my mother mentioned ‘they.’ There are others who for some unknown reason are targeting my family. They got my mom already so who’s to say they won’t get me? And since I don’t know who you are, neither do I believe a single word you’re saying, I am going nowhere with you.” She hissed. “After all, if you really were trying to help, you would have just shot that guy instead of making me get the blood on my hands.” Uncovering her side, she held her hands up for him to see, colored in crimson. “Literally!”

Granted, she knew it wasn’t really his fault but she was kind of in an emotional upheaval right now and he was the only human near her whom she could unfortunately vent to. Besides, if he was actually there to kill her and was in alliance with the man she had killed, then perhaps talking would buy her way out of her eminent death. Something she was very good at, as previously seen just now until the knife took the plunge. But of course, as delayed reaction as ever, she remembered he just mentioned something about a royal family.

“Wait, did you say royal family?” She asked. “What royal family? Whose royal family?” Quickly, she grabbed yet another knife from the knife block. It wasn’t the butcher knife she had used before but it was long, sharp and could definitely cause some damage. Holding it out to him for her own defense, Sky looked at this ‘Ben’ character wearily. “Alright, Ben, if that is really your name, tell me what you know. But first, to insure that you don’t kill me too, I want you to slide your gun down and kick it my way. I’m not going anywhere until I know for a fact that one, you’re not going to kill me to and two, who this royal family is that you mentioned.” Granted, if he had a British accent, that left one obvious guess. But she wasn’t about to jump to conclusions.

That would only be far too convenient.

Ben held his hand out, unsure what to expect. The woman had lost her mother less than five minutes ago, and stabbed a man to death. It probably wasn’t the start to a day that Sky was accustomed to, and he wasn't surprised that she didn't jump into his arms, and accept his offer of help without question, although, underneath his unsympathetic demeanour, Ben wasn’t as lacking in empathy as it might appear. It was just that he was aware they wouldn’t be safe until they’d distanced themselves from the house, and the best way to achieve that goal was to try to not allow Sky the time to become preoccupied with thoughts about her dead mother. That, and tending to her wound, could wait.

Well, that was his first intention, however it didn’t seem the plan would work as she pulled back and rested against the counter. Momentarily, he thought she was going to fall, and he’d be required to offer to assist her to her feet for a second time, but then she recovered, and insulted his heritage. Ben refused to take the bait, and simply shot her a shrug and a roll of the eyes, as if to say he couldn’t really argue with facts, especially when the woman who spouted them had collected a knife to help emphasise her point. However, Sky wasn’t the first woman to threaten Ben with a blade, and rather than display fear, he simply shook his head, “Look, I’m sorry, about your Mother, and I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that you get to say a proper goodbye, however you need to be still breathing in order to do that."

Although he faced Sky, his senses were attuned in all directions, and the man tensed when he heard a scuffling sound; that of gravel underneath a leather soled shoe. “The bullet could have passed through his body, and struck you. A two for one deal. And, think about it, if you were my intended target, I could have shot you in the skull just as easily, or put a bullet through your knee to have you at my mercy, and saved us all this drama. I’m not dropping the gun, Miss,” he finished with a slight smile, as if to challenge her to go ahead and try to stop him as he withdrew the weapon from its holster. The metallic sound of the safety being clicked off filled the silence.

Then, the man sighed. She did deserve somewhat of an explanation. “The British Royal family. After the catastrophe a number of months ago, The UK Government expanded the family tree, and uncovered your royal heritage. Of course, some don’t appreciate an American being part of our Monarchy, and would prefer their own move closer to the throne. Such as the Russians here.” Ben kicked the man on the floor in the ribs, and waited until the corpses arms and legs returned to their original position before he rested his eyes back on Sky, “And will take whatever measures necessary to eliminate the competition. I’ll explain the rest later.”

He approached her warily, with one eye on her face, and the other on the knife, prepared to jump out of the way if it should come towards him, and kept the barrel of the gun pointed away from her body. “Believe me, I’m one of the good guys”. The agent attempted to appear as non-threatening as possible as he closed the distance between them, and spoke in a tone akin to that of a man trying to soothe an angry dog; afraid that with one wrong move it would either decide to bite, or scurry away in fear.

He opened his mouth again to persuade her, when suddenly glass shattered, and he instinctively stepped back, dropped to one knee, raised his gun in the direction of the noise, and watched a masked man in black fly through the living room window like a ninja. Ben's bullet struck him dead-centre of the forehead, and abruptly halted the intruders somersault in mid-flight. The suddenly lifeless body flattened out, and dropped like a lead-weight to come to rest half-on and half-off the side of an armchair, however Ben only heard the thump, rather than saw what had caused it as, immediately the shot was fired, he'd swivelled to face the back door, which had burst open. His next slug struck a second male in the chest, causing blood to spray from the wound as he toppled over, and revealed another man behind him.

One Ben had already noted, and even as the bullet had been in flight, the MI6 agent had used his unoccupied hand to pull the knife free from the throat of the dead Russian at his feet, and with a practiced flick of the wrist, hurled it. The blade pierced flesh with enough force to slice through his abdomen, and an inch of metal protruded from the third man's back as he swiftly collapsed, with eyes and mouth open in shock, on top of his friend. Ben scanned the area, empty for the time being, then looked back towards Sky as he moved to his feet. “Are you coming with me, or would you prefer to remain here?” He arched a brow, and nodded towards the back door, and the fence of her next door neighbour about sixty feet away. “That direction. I’ve a vehicle three blocks down, to the East.”

While she was initially weary, the more he spoke, the less she felt threatened and could believe he was there to protect there and take her to safety. Still, she wasn’t sure and even as he teased her about not putting his gun down, Sky remained firm in keeping her knife pointed at him. That is of course, until she heard the smash of a window and she knelt down on her knees, watching the action spill out in front of her—or rather around her.

A ninja-like man was shot dead and quickly and two others were killed and still, she remained alive, only grazed by a bullet. This man, this British agent spoke true. He wasn’t there to kill her. He was there to kill those who were trying to kill or harm her but he hadn’t lodged a bullet into her yet. Besides, after three more had unsuccessfully tried to intrude in, it was pretty clear that they should get a move on and she really wasn’t safe here.

Dropping her knife, Sky stood abruptly, forgetting her wound for a moment as adrenaline kicked into gear once more. “Alright, I will trust you for now considering I really don’t want to be here if there are more to come.” That and all these dead bodies were piling up and it was making it a little more difficult to stomach what contents she had in her stomach.

It was perhaps the turn of her life happening all right now. Her father died a few months ago in some catastrophe that eliminated the entirety of the royal family, including the Queen. Sky was supposedly hailed from a lineage that made her the sole heir to the entire British throne, even if she was American and there was a Russian threat—it always is the Russians, isn’t it?—that wanted to eliminate her to usurp the throne. What she was having more difficulty wrapping her head around was that she was of some kind of royal decent. She knew her father was a Duke but he had bought into his title. Surely someone who bought into their title couldn’t be eligible for the throne, could they? It all had to do with blood.

The man said that her lineage was discovered so it wasn’t by her father’s title but by her blood, her father’s blood. He must have hailed from some kind of royal blood because it certainly wasn’t her mother whose lineage traced back to the very first settlers into America but they were simple merchants or indentured servants who wanted a chance at their own land in a place where land was easy to come by.

How could she possibly be expected to be a Queen?! She was far from being an outstanding lady, she had five boyfriends and she certainly didn’t want to rule a country. Not that the Queen really had much power anymore, that was more of Parliament and the Prime Minister but still! She didn’t want that. What ‘Queen’ would be allowed to continue dancing?

All her dreams seemed to quickly dash out the window as she escaped out of her home with this British agent and toward his escape car. Only once she was safely inside the vehicle and strapped in did she let the whole weight of it all sink in. Still, she was oddly quiet. Sky wasn’t a quiet kind of person, she hadn’t been since she was five. As he drove away, she looked back and saw the profile view of her home fade away in the distance.

Sinking back in her seat, Sky closed her eyes and as the adrenaline faded away, she was left with the pain in her side of her grazed skin. She groaned softly and closed her eyes. “Fuck, that hurts.” She mumbled to herself. Plus, she also had quite the potty mouth on her, totally unbecoming of a lady, let alone a Queen. “So Ben, what is our next stop? A hospital? The airport? Queen lessons?” she snorted.

Ben sighed in relief as Sky dropped the knife, and it appeared as if she were about to trust him. Momentarily, anyway, but what choice did she have? With four strangers laying dead on the floor of her house, and the threat of more to come, he was her best option, but still, he was glad that he hadn't been required to knock her over the head and carry her out to the waiting vehicle. That would have slowed them down, and probably, when she'd awakened, have their relationship off to an even rockier start than it already was.

The MI6 agent had quickly realised that, with the Russian's having arrived before him, that getting Schuyler to London safely wasn't going to be as simple as hopping on a plane, and that they'd be required to spend more time together than he'd originally envisaged. Ben could only thank his lucky stars, that she was not yet Queen, or officially one in waiting, and that he'd not have to bow or curtsy to her. Or call her M'aam. Ben despised calling anyone M'aam.

With gun aim raised, he took one more sweep of the room, but there were no sounds except for those of emergency vehicles in the distance. Someone must have heard the gunfire, and called the authorities. Another damn complication, he thought to himself as his gaze returned to Sky. "Trust me. It's my mission to keep you alive, even over my own dead body, and I don't do this for pleasure, but I am one of the best." The agent responded before dove through the window and dashed for his car. As they ran, he kept his eyes peeled, first checking in front of the woman ready to take down any danger to her first, then darting his gaze beside and behind him. For now the coast was clear, except for the noise of those sirens, which were getting louder by the second.

He had the keys ready when they entered the black SUV - what spy didn't drive a black SUV? - and fired up the engine immediately the doors slammed shut. It was only after he pulled on to the street, and they were underway, that he caught his breath and glanced at the woman in the passenger seat. Her comment elicited a chuckle. "Somehow, I think it may be a little late for you to attend finishing school, so you'll just need to learn on the job", he replied, as he turned onto the main highway, and a police car with sirens flashing, followed by two ambulances, screamed past then on the opposite side of the road, heading for the residence they'd just departed. "However, you may already have some experience as a Princess?"

The man's eyes momentarily lit up with humour and a small smile flitted across his face as he teased, before his countenance once again turned serious, and he refocused his attention on the road. Ben went silent for a moment, and one could almost hear his mind ticking over. "The airport is out of the question." He looked back towards Sky as he spoke. "If the Russians located you so swiftly, they'll surely have men stationed there, and the same goes for the Hospitals." His gaze drifted down to the sight of blood seeping from her side, then moved back to her face. "I'm not the Royal Surgeon, but I do have a first-aid certificate, so I vote we find a motel where I can tend to that wound, answer any questions you might have, and we plan our next move. How does that sound?"

Ben's tone was firm, but contained a new tenderness to it, as did his expression, when he cocked an eyebrow to request her acquiescence and opinion. Not that he'd listen if she disagreed, but it was a good idea to allow her to believe she had a choice. "I'm afraid it won't be the Dorchester, but at least it will provide the opportunity to remain out of sight. With what occurred back there." He inclined his head in the direction of her house, "It isn't only the Russians and rogue British agents who'll be searching for us, but the local authorities as well. Possibly even the FBI."

The man shrugged, as if to say well, there there's nothing we can do about that now, as he veered off the highway, and they entered a suburb lined with strip malls and cheap hotels. Ben slowed the vehicle down, scanned their options, appraised the hookers lining the doorways, and finally motioned to an establishment named the Alhambra, with its flashing Neon pink sign, and offer of a $1.99 per night XXX cable movies. "Fit for a Queen?"

“Well there goes the entire fate of the UK if I that be the case.” She deadpanned, an unladylike snort sounding from her. If she were to learn on the job, chances are then that she’d run the country and other lands the monarchy ruled over right into the ground, possibly in flames that not even the strongest phoenix could rise up from the ashes. Then again, in comparison to rogue British agents and the Russians who wanted control, how much worse could she do?

Pressing her hand a little firmer to her wound, Sky glanced to him but her attention quickly averted at the sounds of sirens that quickly passed by their moving vehicle. She sunk down in her seat, as if afraid to be sighted by them—such a silly notion, really—and she once more glanced toward her British savior. Not that she’d actually regard him as a ‘savior’ but essentially that is what he was. “A princess?” She scoffed. “Hardly. If you only knew the list of my bad deeds, certainly not that of a princess.” Plus, she always hated it when anyone referred to her as a princess. The only person she let get away with that was her dad but only because it sounded nicer and not so stupid coming from him.

Sky thought whether or not to mention she had five boyfriend, all of whom would most likely miss her. She didn’t even feel an ounce of regret toward leaving. She couldn’t say the same, that she’d miss them. Her heart was too heavy for the loss of her father and now her mother, it was like she didn’t have room to miss or mourn for anyone else, especially her five boyfriends who all had too many flaws to be remotely worth her time. It was all really about sex and safety blankets. None of them were the one. If they fused into one, they just might be but she had too high of standards. After all, she had a strong mother and an incredible father who certainly raised her bar of what she expected in a man. But then again, it might be the fact that she was too career driven.

But her dreams of becoming a part of some well-known dance company were shot into the gutter. Though she did wonder if she could do both; rule a country and still live her dreams of dancing professionally. Somewhere in her heart there was that nagging feeling. It wouldn’t be possible. It’d be either or, but not both. And considering who she was raised by, she’d sacrifice her dreams for that of a country, if it all really came down to such. There were still so many things she didn’t know, she didn’t want to make up her mind on a whim without knowing all the facts. So for now, she was resigned to following this guy while still upholding her hope that she could dance professionally.

She caught the carefree look in his eyes, as if of humor or amusement but it quickly faded away. Was he always going to be so straight-laced or would he find a way to let go and enjoy himself? Or was it just because he was a Brit and this is what they all were like, even the recently deceased Queen of England? Shaking her head, she looked out the window as he spoke. He was certainly fascinating to listen to. She was always capable of going weak at the knees for a person with a sexy accent and this guy certainly had that. Oh goodness, does that mean there’s some part of him that is actually sexy? She almost groaned in dismay at the thought because she knew the answer and she hated it!

All she could do was nod her head at his suggestions. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders to further emphasize that she didn’t care. Neither was she fooled into thinking she actually had a choice. Chances are, if she actually did have a choice, she’d choose the wrong one anyways. Then they’d have this fight with him trying to see her way and it just didn’t seem like a good idea one bit! Plus, she wasn’t in the mood to fight with him. She was too tired and in too much pain.

Sky chose not to comment on the rest of it. She didn’t want to think about how suddenly complicated her life became. Instead, she remained silent for the duration of the drive. It was completely uncharacteristic of her since she hadn’t been a quiet kind of person since she was five. But with everything she felt right now, talking was the last thing on her agenda. She wanted her wound tended to, which he could do since he was apparently trained in first-aid, and she wanted to sleep.

They finally arrived to their accommodations that night. Some rinky-dink seedy looking hotel, passing a line of hookers along the way. It even had the ever handsome offer of cheap porn. “Oh nice. Some entertainment for you to enjoy after I pass out. Be sure to watch it from the bathroom. That is something I do not want to see. Talk about a nightmare.” She managed a laugh, though it was more so humorless than actually full of life. “Stop calling me a Queen. I am not a Queen. I am not royalty. I am just a regular American girl.” She actually snapped at him. If he made any more references to her supposed ‘royal’ blood, she was going to drop kick him and she didn’t even know how to do that!

Getting out of the car, she slammed the door shut. She moved her hand from her side, wincing as she did so since her hand was the only thing alleviating the pain right now. Sky marched up into the sad excuse of a lobby and practically glared at the ‘concierge.’

“Room?” He asked.
“Yes. One. Two beds.” She sounded miserable.
“I have only one room left. One bed.”
She glared harder at him, even gritting her teeth. “Fine.” She hissed. He didn’t seem at all fazed, as if she was nothing in comparison to the rude people he dealt with on a regular basis.
“Can I see some ID?”
“Do I look like I have my ID on me right now?”
“If you were smart, you would.”

“Talk to my fucking pimp. He’ll take care of everything.”
“O-Oh? Y-You’re…” He seemed to suddenly change tact. Going from bored and uninterested to shy and a bumbling idiot that screamed virgin! “H-How much?”
She leaned her elbow on the counter, her fingers combing into her hair out of frustration. “What?” She asked, her hand falling from her hair and slamming on the counter. “You actually think I’m a whore? Do you really think I’d even blink once at you if I was?! I have standards, you creepy perv!”

“D-Do you still want a room?” He stammered, still believing that she was a hooker.
“NO!” She turned to storm out, only to nearly slam her body right into Ben’s. “We are not staying here. He thinks I’m a hooker!”

“B-But you said—“
She turned and shot venomous daggers at him. “It was a joke!”

But the man still thought she was a hooker and by the arrival of Ben, he thought the sharply dressed man was actually her pimp.

Ben glanced around to appraise the surroundings, street-walkers in short multi-coloured leather skirts, heels, and make-up painted on their faces, as well as on their arms to conceal the track-marks. Glass from smashed light globes littered the ground, and left the area in the darkness, from where pimps watched their charges, and dealers conducted transactions, and the Neon signs advertising the names of the cheap hotels were more broken than blinking. They were only a few minutes drive from Sky's residence, but it was a completely different world, and not one future Royalty would usually be seen in. The Agent hoped that would provide cover, and allow them some space to talk, and attend to Sky's wounds.

He thought she'd caught the brief look of amusement on his face after he'd called her a Princess, but couldn't be certain that she'd understood his meaning. These American's sometimes didn't get British sarcasm, and this probably wasn't the time and place to explain that he'd just accused her of possibly sometimes being difficult and demanding. One thing he knew for sure was that he'd be wary about calling her a Queen again, as the woman obviously didn't appreciate it, and anyways, she was but a potential Queen until they arrived in London and her right to accede the throne was verified. Even then, she could refuse to accept the honour.

One eye remained on her as he drove, and he was struck by how attractive she was. The accent was kind of charming, as was her attitude - more direct and blunt than her English counterparts - but he swiftly banished the thoughts from his mind. He was on a mission, and there was no time for personal relationships, nor was he James Bond with a girl in every city. No Pussy Galore for Ben, and neither did he drive an Aston Martin, or possess an umbrella that shot poisoned darts.

Although the man had had his share of girlfriends, his occupation, which had to be kept secret, required him to be absent for much of the year, and there was no girl at home waiting for him. However, that was fine with Ben as ever since he'd been a schoolboy in long shorts, he'd dreamed only of emulating his Father by joining the services, and adventuring the world whilst serving his Country. And what could be more important than ensuring the integrity of the British Monarch was maintained.

"I'm sorry," he replied with a slight smile and crinkling of the eyes as he turned into the motel, and she finally broke the silence. He removed a hand stand from the steering wheel, and raised it in apology. "No more Queen or Princess jokes, I promise," then glanced at the sign offering XXX movies, "and I'm not a porn sort of guy." He was going to continue to say that he preferred the real thing, but then decided that would sound rather cheesy, and possibly be seen as more than a joke by Sky so, instead, averted his gaze, and searched for the best location to park.

The second he'd found a space by the wall, under a broken light where the vehicle was obscured, and reached over the back-seat to search for his medical kit, Ben heard the passenger door slam shut. Shit. "Hey, get back here." He called out for his own now-opened door, but it was too late, for she'd already disappeared into the foyer.

Ben arrived a few moments later, just in time to be almost bowled over the rushing woman, and her words reverberated in his ears. “We are not staying here. He thinks I’m a hooker!” His hands, one containing a small black bag, flew up to her shoulders to stop her slamming into him, and his eyes landed on hers, then darted to the pimply youth behind the counter. It didn't take long for Ben to comprehend the situation, but rather than attempt to resolve the misunderstanding, the agent deliberately compounded it. "It's okay, baby, you should take it as a compliment."

He cocked a brow at her as the young man's mouth dropped open, to match his eyes, and the agent's attention darted between the two, then hooked his fingers into Sky's arms, and gently maneuvered her backwards as he continued. "He's obviously never seen one as attractive as you, and isn't aware there's a vast difference between a hooker and a call-girl." Ben knew he was going to be in trouble for this, and had a feeling that Sky's wrath could be even more painful than anything his own rouge countrymen or the Russians could do, but he wanted to maintain the facade that Sky was a lady of the night, and hoped she'd play along instead of continuing to cause a scene that would draw attention.

"Isn't that right, Son?" The M1-6 spy released his grip on the woman as they reached the centre of the foyer, and fully turned his focus towards the clerk. The guy could only nod and swallow as Ben then tossed two one-hundred dollar bills on the desk, however wasn't as stupid as he looked, because he immediately knew what the man was after, and this time, didn't request ID. "I need to properly test the merchandise, so please ensure we're not disturbed, and if anyone asks, you never saw us."

The clerk, still half in shock, emitted a croak of acquiescence, and a moment later Ben turned towards Sky with a room key in his hand - Number 13, as luck would have it -, shot her his most charming smile, and pointed to the stairs. "Come on honey, I told you, time is money, and we ain't got all week."

She was waiting and expecting for this agent to whip his gun out and shoot the stupid perverted creeper in the forehead or his arm. Whichever would make a bigger statement. She figured since this kid was insulting her, Ben would take care of it. After all, he did say that he was there to protect her and ensure that no Russian or anti-British-monarchy rebel tried to hurt her. Sky simply figured he’d carry that out right here and right now.

Her eyes widened as his voice rang in her ears and his words penetrated her cognitive understanding in her brain. It’s okay, baby, you should take it as a compliment.” And even said with his accent, now this pimply person would think she was some international trades-hooker because her apparent pimp was obviously not from America. But as it all really sunk in—momentarily taking her away from the pain in her side—she felt a very deep set of anger resonate with her. He didn’t shoot the stupid guy who actually believed she was a hooker. He didn’t even try to refute the matter. He…went with it? Sky swore she could feel her eye twitch and the very angry vein in her forehead start to pulsate. She started to breathe faster, like a bull ready to ram someone right on her horns until they bled to death, a slow and painful death potentially filled with severe disease and infection!

Oof, if looks could kill. If she was Medusa, Ben would be stone. Well technically, so would that guy behind the counter as well.

It took her a moment to find a rational thought. Sky was exhausted, she was in pain, she was incredibly emotional and grouchy and she did not want to be fucked with. But as she tried to think of something other than bashing Ben’s face down into her knee repeatedly until his nose was beyond repair, she also realized why he was probably insinuating that she go along with this farce. The last thing either of them needed was for attention to be pointed to them. If they came here acting like a pimp and a whore like anyone else who probably came here if the fares were so low, it was nothing out of the ordinary.

But did he really need to pride himself and boast to this guy that he was her pimp? Couldn’t he have gone with something else? That he was the dashing bachelor and she was the young, hot and possibly underage looker whom he was bedding in a cheap run-down place? So romantic! At least it would have been interesting and not so deprecating!

Sky let out a shaky breath and she managed to force a smile, nodding her head slowly. “Well obviously.” She nearly whispered. “If I were a hooker, I’d probably be dressed like Julia Roberts with lacerations down my arms from cuts and needles.” She cast a glance back at the guy who was already working in haste to procure their bedroom without asking more questions, especially after real cash had been produced.

The vein threatened to burst though when he mentioned ‘testing the merchandise.’ She wanted to just sock him right in the nose and the jaw repeatedly because she did not like that insinuation. She certainly didn’t want him to think that this gave him any chance at all of scoring with her. Hell no! He might have potentially gotten luckier before, even when he called her ‘Queen’ and ‘Princess’ but now there was no way in hell she would ever be tempted to lay beneath him, she didn’t care how hot and sexy his accent was! Which it wasn’t. Of course…

Their room key was given and without saying a word, even after his final statement that didn’t encourage her dawdling, Sky grumbled under her breath, her back to the concierge perv. She followed Ben up the stairs and to the room, staying unnaturally quiet. The moment that he played on with the charade, she wanted to murder him and seriously rearrange his face. Now as the time passed and her jacket pulled on her wound which made the bleeding start again, she just wanted to lie down. She didn’t even have the energy for a full on verbal lashing. She wanted to lie down, sleep and wake up from this nightmare.

Because none of this could be happening right now.

Once they were in the room, Sky walked over to the bed. She kicked her shoes off and sat down after peeling her jacket off, wincing slightly as the material kept peeling off from her wound, blood sticking and peeling. Lifting her shirt a smidge, she looked down at her side, seeing red and red and more angry red. “Oh…that looks disgusting.” Shaking her head, she glanced to Ben.

“If you thought that there was any chance that you may have gotten lucky tonight, there is no way in hell that that is happening now. You will not now, or ever get to test the merchandise. And you will hate yourself because I promise that my merchandise is something every man should fantasize about.” She was still confident even in her darkest time but that’s because it was about all she had left to hang onto. Although her comment was probably borderline tacky and conceited than confident. “Let alone actually be worthy to try out. Understand?”

Although if being Queen meant she got to order people around…she might not hate that too much. “Now, be a good agent and tend to my wound so I can sleep.” She could barely keep her eyes open. Her day had been busy before all this stuff. It had just gotten busier. Throw in a bullet grazed wound that was perhaps the most painful thing she had ever endured physically, not counting losing both of her parents, she was pretty much feeling like she could die right about now.

Not to be a drama-queen or anything. How appropriate, she’d fit right in!

The agent could feel the heat rising in the Hotel foyer, caused from the flushed cheeks of the pimply Hotel Clerk, and anger emanating from Sky. The already delicate situation hadn’t helped by the boy, who, after he’d handed Ben the key, leered at the woman with undisguised sexual interest, apparently feeling entitled to do so now he’d ascertained she was a Hooker. “Oh, shit.” Ben muttered to himself, as he looked across at the young woman he’d only met an hour or so ago, and in that time had lost her Mother, been wounded by a bullet, fatally knifed a man, seen three others shot dead, advised she was heir to the English Throne, and accused of being a prostitute – well, Call Girl -, and his teeth clenched from the tension.

Skye appeared as if were about to detonate, and take him and the clerk, possibly the entire Hotel, out in the resulting explosion, however the agent wasn’t going to say sorry, for he’d only done what was required, and that was part of his profession. He’d display no fear, nor favour, not for anyone, not even Royalty, as long as the job got done. However, he would attempt to compensate for it later, without making the apology obvious, as their relationship had already gotten off to a rocky start, and, with the initial, simple plan having gone awry, and the airports and seaports under surveillance, they’d need find another way out of the country. That meant spending a lot more time with Schuyler than originally envisaged, which would go much more smoothly if she didn’t want to murder him.

Though, he did have to admit, the fury on her face intrigued and pleased him, as much as it sent a shiver down his spine. Better to have a troublesome woman able to look after herself, than one who’d drop to the ground, trembling in fear at the first sign of danger. Or conflict. As he struggled for words, then decided it best not to say anything whilst Sky herself managed to display restraint, he thanked his lucky stars that be-headings had gone out of fashion a number of centuries ago.

“Come on, Vivian.” In for a penny, in for a pound, the agent winked at the clerk, whose eyes had lowered to Sky’s tits, and wondered if the kid was the type to watch romantic comedies, and understand the references, then grasped Sky’s elbow, and directed her to the stairs. It wasn’t the most comfortable journey to a Hotel room floor that Ben had ever undertaken with a woman.

When they entered the room, he expected her fury to be released, however, instead, it seemed that the events of the day had finally their toll, and after he located the windows and fire-escapes, then closed the door behind him, he glanced at Sky. The sight of her raw skin elicited a wince of his own; sometimes a graze could be even more painful than a clean through and through; and although her anger was withheld, he soon discovered Sky remained capable of sarcasm, and had to hold back a laugh. That probably wouldn’t go down too well.

“Let me clean, disinfect, and place a bandage on it, then you’ll be as good as new in the morning.” Ben responded as he dropped the black bag on the bed, unzipped it, and brought out a bottle of liquid, cotton-wool, and a bandage. “Trust me, I’m a Doctor.” The Agent smiled when he pulled up a straight-backed, wooden chair, with two slats missing, and reached for her arm. “And, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to get lucky tonight. I’m not one for sleeping with a woman on the first date.”

His eyes crinkled as he poured some water on one of the cotton balls and wiped the blood away, then drizzled some disinfectant in to the wound, and attempted to distract her from the sting of pain. “Plus, since I just paid two-hundred dollars for the room, I couldn't afford your services.” The man grinned, then peered down at the wound, which was now clean, and really only a graze that wouldn’t take long to heal, before he bandaged it. “There, all done.”

His tone had become gentler, and after he placed the medical supplies back in the bag, Ben reached up to pull her hair back from behind her ear with one hand, and comfortingly brushed her cheek with his thumb as he did. “I’ll keep sentry, so you get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.” With that, he pulled the chair against the wall, to face the door, withdrew his weapon, and folded his arms over his chest. "If I get bored during the night, I’ll just watch some porn. That’s only $1.99."

Not only did he go along with the charade, but he called her ‘Vivian.’ If she wasn’t so angry at him, she might have enjoyed the comparison. Pretty Woman was a favorite movie of hers that she loved to watch with her mom. She and her mom shared that same dislike for Julia Roberts as an actress but they absolutely loved her in that movie. That was the only good movie she was in. Her other roles were just downright frustrating. But Pretty Woman had been a true delight. Although, the main reason for their love was Richard Gere but Julia Roberts wasn’t terrible either.

In the room, she was almost overwhelmed with emotion at the loss of her mom which came back to the forefront of her mind after she basically told Ben that he’d have no chance with her, ever. Her mom had been her best friend, her greatest love and her entire world. But she was shot, point blank and it was the most horrifying thing. Her worst nightmare had always been losing her mom. The fact that it actually happened was a bitter pill to swallow. On top of that, her father had been killed as well. She was parent-less. How could she survive? She was hardly ready to be in the world without her parents. None of it seemed real. But deep down, she knew it was. That was something she just wasn’t ready to accept.

Her wound needed to be cleaned. She couldn’t very well bite his head off for offering to do that. It was the least he could do for playing with the charade of her being a hooker, or as he called it, a call-girl. It was a step up from being a hooker but it was still insulting, even more that the stupid guy at the desk believed it! Just because she was a looker did not make her a hooker! “That is very doubtful, but I suppose at least I won’t be in physical pain tomorrow.” Mentally and emotionally, she’d most likely be a wreck. She couldn’t even go into her mom’s arms anymore to cry. That was robbed from her.

Sky snorted when he called himself a doctor. Even if he was, that didn’t make her feel any better. She hated doctors. “Calling yourself a doctor doesn’t make it any better or believable. I hate doctors.” She scrunched her nose at him, too tired to be full on malicious in her tone and choice of words. She outright laughed though about his intention to not get lucky that night. “No of course not. You just continue on with the charades of women being hookers, call them ‘Vivian’ and then get laid. Although I am sure James Bond was more suave in getting women into bed. Then again, I suppose you’re not James Bond. He at least was charming. You’re just…” She sighed and swiped her hand over her face. “Infuriating.” She mumbled miserably.

As he cleaned her wound, Sky winced when he used the disinfectant onto her wound. She breathed in sharply through her teeth and closed her eyes tightly as the initial discomfort prickled at her side. Once it abated, she relaxed and opened her eyes. Her lips twitched from hiding a smirk and she nodded her head. “Damn straight you can’t afford me. I am priceless. Add being the next heir to the throne, I am even more expensive now.” She kind of like that but being queen wasn’t something to look forward to. Queens weren’t allowed to become professional dancers. Wasn’t that looked down upon? Then again, considering it would be a huge scandal if she were to become queen anyways, why not continue dancing? Rub salt into the wound even more.

‘Our queen is American!’
‘Even worse, she’s a…a…dancer!’
But then there would always be that one perverted creep who would say, after pushing his glasses down the bridge of his nose, ‘How much does she charge for a lap dance, per chance?’

Sky nearly shuddered at the very thought of some old and disgusting geezer of Parliament harboring salacious thoughts of the potentially new queen. Even worse, she almost shuddered at the thought of actually being proven queen! There was something in her body that wanted to physically reject it in the form of some violent upchucking.

As much as she wanted to remain angry at him, even after he cleaned and bandaged up her wound, it was proven difficult to by his sudden show of affection, or at least kindness. Pulling her shirt down back over her wound, Sky looked up at him and she found herself leaning into the soft caress of her cheek by his hand. She wanted to turn her face into his hand and kiss his palm and just give into the want to be coddled, cuddled and comforted—the three C’s her mother was brilliantly known for. But she resisted of course and that soon came to be natural by his last choice of words.

Since he stood right in front of her, she had a perfect target and an outlet to take her anger, frustration and several other emotions on. Before she could even think properly to stop herself, her hand balled into a fist and made perfect contact with his crotch in a ruthless punch. She knew to be punched in the balls was a very painful experience for men. She learned that when she accidentally shoved her foot there when practicing a dance with one of her boyfriends. It was the first time she learned just how a man can squeal in a rich falsetto voice. It was highly amusing. Sure, she did repay him by massaging his balls with her mouth later that night, but that wasn’t the point.

Standing, she glared at Ben after punching him in the balls and wanted to give him blunt-trauma with her shoe repeatedly bashing his skull in. “There! Now you won’t get bored and I won’t have to listen to a woman fake-moan while you beat at it!” So perhaps she was an abusive girlfriend but she didn’t see properly or think clearly when she was loaded with rage. She ‘suffered’ from rage-black outs.

Without feeling any kind of remorse, she kicked her shoes off and went into the bathroom. Relieving herself, she then undressed down to her bra and panties. She’d wear her shirt but because it was half-soiled from the blood, she resigned to sleep in her bra and panties. Sky felt no shyness or qualms from walking out of the bathroom so scantily clad but the view of her curvaceous and healthy body was short since she climbed right into bed after. She lay flat on her stomach on the right side of the bed, leaving the left side for him and pulled the covers over her body. She left him space but she hogged the comforter which was actually quite nice for a seedy hotel.

But as the rage simmered down, the sadness kicked in. She couldn’t sleep, as much as he wanted to. She just cried. Silent. Quiet. Didn’t make a sound so she didn’t inconvenience him. No matter how tired she was and how much she desperately wanted to sleep, how could she possible fall into a slumber when her heart ached so terribly?

Ben believed he'd compensated for the references to Sky being a Hooker, and the hungry stares and obviously misogynistic thoughts his comments had elicited from the pimply hotel clerk, with the care with which he tended the young woman's wound. Although, if he'd had his time again, he most likely wouldn't have cheekily called her Vivian, as that hadn't been required as part of the plan, but simply done for fun, and then he'd have nothing to make up for.

Neither, if he'd really thought it through first, would he have teased Sky about her services being too expensive to afford. However, she didn't seem to mind, and he even imagined he'd caught a glimpse of a smile. "Lucky I'm not really a Doctor, then," he replied with a wiggling of the eyebrows, "nor James Bond. Because, honestly, with the amount of girl's he's apparently slept with, you'd require a shot of Penicillin, and four condoms. Even if he did look like Pierce Brosnan. The man is a male slut, and brings nothing but shame to us real British Gentlemen.

Ben joked, feeling more relaxed that they were out of immediate danger, and with the woman appearing willing to exchange pleasantries. However, once the wound was cleaned, and the medical supplies put away, the Spy made his most egregious mistake since hopping off the plane. With his gentle touch, he felt Sky's cheek press into his hand, as if searching for more, and that caused him to assume they'd become friends, but, as everyone learns in grade school, assumptions can be taken a step too far, and that's when the real trouble starts.

Barely two seconds after the comment about the low price of the porn movies had escaped his lips, the man's eyes widened in shock before he emitted a high-pitched squeal, jerked upright in his chair, and instinctively reached for his crotch. Then his head fell back, and his eyes began to water as the chair rocked with his groans. It eventually deposited Ben Roberts - MI6 Special Agent, and a man who'd engaged in exchanges of gun-fire and hand to hand combat with the cruelest and most depraved men humanity had to offer without sustaining barely a scratch - face first on the carpet, with hands clasped to his crotch, squirming in pain, and tears rolling down his cheeks, after having been punched in the nuts by the future Queen of England. Damn, these Americans certainly were a different breed.

So engrossed was he in the throbbing sensation affecting his family jewels, Ben barely noted her feet step past, nor did he hear the water run in the bathroom, or register that, on her return, Sky had stripped down to nought but panties and bra. His legs kicked out, and Ben groaned once more before he recovered enough to at least be able to push himself to his feet, collect his weapon, upright the chair, and drop back into it, just as she slipped into bed. Any thoughts about watching porn had completely departed his mind. Ben didn't even want to look down there, let alone touch.

"Well, I guess I did ask for that." By the time the pain eased further enough to allow him to whisper, and he glanced over to the bed, Sky was already asleep. Or that's how it appeared, although, he soon realised she was crying. They were silent sobs, but Ben knew the signs, and aware that they must be for her lost Mother, the Agent was overtaken by a sense of helplessness. He'd only met Schuyler that day, and never her parents, therefore the sympathy he could offer would probably come across as false, so he remained silent. However, at that moment, he also decided that, out of respect for Sky and her deceased parent, he'd find a way to allow her to say a proper goodbye. Ben might be a spy, but not a man without empathy.

As the first rays of the sun filtered through dusty window panes, Ben, who'd not slept a wink that night, moved from his seat. He winced at the pain in his crotch, which was now more remembered than real, and dared slip out of the room. Five minutes later, he returned with two mugs in hand; a sweet white coffee for the young woman, and for himself, English Breakfast Tea; and called out a cheery, "Good morning", when he re-entered the room.

Sky managed a few good hours of sleep that night. It took her a while. She wanted to spend hours crying but finally the exhaustion set in and she was able to sleep. It seemed like she had just fallen asleep though when she heard the all too cheery tone of some British asshole bidding ‘Good morning,’ making her groan out and pull a pillow over her head. From the crying, to the falling asleep to the constant nightmares of seeing dead bodies all around her, Sky’s mood had only worsened. If this British agent wasn’t careful, he might get another punch in the testicles if he even looked at her wrong. Not sleeping wasn’t something that Sky was accustomed to.

Being a dancer, she had an intense regime. She always woke up at about 5 AM to get an hour work out in and then two hours of morning training, mostly to limber up. After that, she’d shower and get ready for school, having plenty of time to eat a proper breakfast that her mom always prepared for her. From there, she’d go to school and after school she’d go to the library to study for about two hours so she didn’t fall behind on her schoolwork. By the time she finished with that, it was roughly 5 PM which gave her three hours to practice her routines with her dancing partner. By the time 8 PM rolled around, she was ready to go home, eat dinner, catch her mom up with everything and then go to sleep by 10 PM. She was used to a perfect seven hour sleep.

Last night? She got about two and a half hours. She was certainly not at her best.

With a heavy sigh, she turned onto her back and sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes as her hair fell over her shoulder. “Just say ‘morning.’ There is nothing good about this morning.” Throwing the covers off of her, she got out of bed and pushed her hair out of her face. Her eyes were a bit red and swollen from all the crying, with shadows from the lack of sleep. Her hair was a disheveled hot mess and it completely escaped her mind that was only wearing her bra and panties. For a dancer, she had a rather soft, slender and healthy body, not so much a dancer’s body. Sure, she loved being a dancer but she didn’t do the toning that most dancers did because she wasn’t into having abs bigger than her partner’s…or legs, thighs, and arms bigger than her partners.

Without even asking which was hers and only assuming, she plucked the mug from his hand that had the tea, completely unaware. She sipped it and let out a content sight. “Oh good, how did you know I loved tea?” Which was ‘thank you’ in Sky-language. Turning from him, she took another gulp from his tea and walked into the bathroom. Shutting the door and locking it, the sound of the shower being turned on could be heard and once it was piping hot, she stripped of her bra and panties and got right in. After about ten minutes, she felt a whole lot better. Hot tea and an even hotter shower did wonders.

Emerging from the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her body, she carried her bra and panties in one hand and his mug of tea in the other. Sitting down on the bed, she dropped her used undergarments and crossed one finely shaped bare leg over the other, bringing the mug up to her lips to take a big sip. She looked up at him, about to inquire about the plans in store for that day when her gaze slowly traveled down his front and settled on the front of his pants. Sky's head tilted and a small grin formed on her face. "How are the British jewels? Sore?" She sipped her tea again before holding it down in her lap.

"That ought to teach you not to sass off to me." She had to just get one more dig in. "But...I do feel a little bad. I highly doubt there was any ice for you to ice them with." She smiled a little hesitantly. "Any way that I can make it up to you?"

The mumbled "morning', and comment that followed when he re-entered the room elicited a shake of his head, and a roll of Ben's eyes that, thankfully, Sky would miss, as simultaneously, the bed-covers flew up to hide her face, and Ben blew on the steam rising from his mug, anticipating the refreshing taste of tea. He wasn't certain if he'd be able to find it in the States, due to the penchant of American's for coffee, and it had been a pleasant surprise, and a good omen, when he discovered the cafe downstairs carried it.

Today, he required it more than most, as like Sky, his night hadn't been filled with rest and pleasant dreams. In fact, his hadn't contained any dreams whatsoever, since he hadn't slept a wink; the task of remaining awake made easier by the throbbing in his nether-regions that had finally ceased around four am. A sigh escaped his lips even before he tasted it, but the drink didn't quite reach his mouth as his eyes suddenly widened, and the British agent's attention was distracted the sight of the slim body, clad in only panties and bra, that rose from the bed.

Before he'd become aware it was happening, and with his mind telling his eyes to stop staring, the cup was ripped from his hand, and that broke the reverie. For he realised that it wasn't the coffee that she'd grasped, but the tea. His tea. "'Hey, that's mine, I brought you coffee." He spoke up in consternation, and then, as the scalding liquid spilled from under lid of the remaining beverage he held, onto his hand, when he lunged to grab back his drink, a stream of invective slipped from his mouth.

"Ouch. Damn-it. Fuck. Bloody Hell." Ben jumped up and down, and swapped hands with the mug, and the curses didn't cease until he'd shaken every last, burning drop from his skin. Then, with the pain faded, for the second time in less than twelve hours, he admitted defeat, and shot her the biggest, brightest grin he could muster. 'Lucky guess. Enjoy." This time, he managed to keep his eyes on her face. At least until she turned to enter the bathroom, when they slipped to her ass.

Although it wasn't tea, the caffeine contained in the gross American coffee entered his blood-tream, and the man was back to full steam after his sleepless night when he sat on the edge of Sky's bed, and switched on the television for the morning news. "Shit. The agent swore under his breath when he noted they were the lead story, however, breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared they hadn't yet located a picture of Sky or, if they had, decided to not yet release it, nor her name. The item had finished when she re-emerged, and he lowered the volume. Damn, didn't the woman ever wear clothes?

After their eyes met, he watched hers lower to his crotch, which caused an instinctive reaction. Ben, slowly and carefully, crossed his hands on his lap, and cocked a brow. "Oh, they're just fine, it was but a flesh wound, and whilst I appreciate the offer." A mischievous grin crept onto his face. "We wouldn't want the clerk to hear strange noises emanating from the room, and provide him further reason to believe his assumptions correct, would we?" He was extra careful not to utter the actual word, 'Hooker', before the mirth faded from his expression, and he stood to approach Sky, and squeeze her shoulder. "We'll depart this hovel, find some breakfast, and figure out our next move. We need to find a way out of the country. Get dressed."

The demand was issued gently, but contained obvious urgency, and he didn't stop to argue, but immediately continued on his way to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, and on his reemergence, dressed in the same clothes he'd slept in, the agent's attention was immediately captured by the television screen. He winced.

"Four Dead; massive search underway for missing woman, Schuyler Lassiter", read the banner running across the screen, under images of her residence, surrounded by the flashing red lights of emergency vehicles and a throng of media vans.

His gaze made it's way to Sky to see if she too had noted it, and the reaction, if she had. They'd now discovered her name and, from there, it wouldn't take long her photograph to be plastered all over the country. "It appears your days of fame have commenced. Ever contemplated a haircut and colour change? Brunette would look nice."

Only when he cleared up the confusion about the caffeinated drinks, there was a moment of small regret but that quickly washed away as she enjoyed the tea. It was too delicious to really care that she had taken his drink instead of the coffee. Besides, once it was in her tummy, the caffeine in her system, what was she supposed to do? Barf it back up? It certainly won’t taste the way it did going down.

Her shower was most refreshing. She certainly felt a bit more alive afterward. What with stealing sips of her tea while she showered and letting the hot water erase the stains of yesterday, she felt like she could muster up enough strength to face the day. She probably soiled her bandage on her wound but it didn’t hurt as bad as it did last night. It was just a bit sore but the hot water was like a balm to it more than she would have expected.

After, she wrapped the cotton towel around her slender frame, tucking the end of it into the front, pumping up her cleavage a bit as she did so. It looked just like a strapless dress, but very form fitting, very short and not at all a dress. She pulled her wet blonde hair into a messy ponytail with the only hair tie she did have and walked out, mug in hand so she could sip from it, her undergarments in her other hand.

There she found Ben and her little propositions certainly seemed to be accepted but otherwise not needed. Her lips twitched in repressing a smile, instead forming into a smirk. “Well you know, in for a penny, in for a pound…” She mused. “After all he already thinks I’m a hooker. It’d be absolutely horrible to deprive him of the knowledge that you really gave me a rough wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.” For certainly, her mood was a lot better than it was last night. It was surprising since she didn’t get much sleep at all, plagued with the images of her deceased mother and the man she killed, but it was amazing what a shower and some caffeine could do. The puffiness and redness in her eyes were gone, so were the dark circles.

“Besides, I was so hoping to be the Vivian to your Edward.” Waggling her eyebrows, her tone was slightly sarcastic but at least her mood was good enough. Still, he declined and didn’t seem to hold much of a grudge to the fact she took his tea. Poor, stuffy, old Brit had to probably drink American coffee, something she was sure he wasn’t too accustomed to. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and she could only nod her head. “Thank you.”

She stepped away from him and looked back at him as he disappeared into the bathroom. Once the door was shut, she placed her mug of tea down on the table and dropped the towel. She put her bra on and flipped her panties inside out to get proper use of them before they would be too dirty to wear and proceeded to pull her clothes back on, minus the shirt she wore underneath her plaid button down since it was too stained and matted with her blood. Turning, she buttoned up the plaid shirt when her gaze flew to the broadcast on the television that was never shut. Her hands froze at the buttons when she saw her name flashing.

Looking around, Sky saw a remote and she turned up the volume. Her legs gave out as she sat back down on the bed, her eyes wide as she listened to the broadcast. They were searching for her. There was a twisted implication that she had caused the murders and it was also identified that her mother was found at their home, shot in the head. A picture appeared of her mother. She was smiling broadly, a beautiful smile that clearly showed she was definitely Sky’s mother. Even though her mother was a brunette and Sky a blonde, it was clear that she definitely took after her mother in beauty. Tears sprang to her eyes and silently rolled down her cheeks.

Quickly wiping away the tears, she shook her head and glanced up, seeing Ben out from the bathroom. Clearing her throat, she stowed away her emotion, that is until he brought up the idea of changing her hair. Untying her hair, the moist blonde locks tumbled down her back and she pursed her lips. “My mom was a brunette. I’d look just like her.” She brought her hand to her hair, tangling a wet lock around her finger and released it slowly. “We should probably go with red.” She said softly. “I don’t mind cutting it.” She seemed so…emotionless as she said it though.

Finishing buttoning up her shirt, she moved to the TV and turned it off, throwing the remote on the table, barely containing her emotions but trying to. Sitting down on the bed, her hair tumbled over her shoulder as she pulled her socks and shoes on and once she was ready, Sky stood and downed the rest of her tea. She wiped her mouth in the most unladylike way and looked to him. “Can we go now?”

"I think the clerk was probably so stoned that he immediately forgot our conversation once we departed the lobby." Ben had called over his shoulder as he passed her. "Plus, I'm not a wham-bam, thankyou ,'Maam type of guy. I prefer to leave my conquests properly satisfied." The last sentence had been completed just after he'd swiveled to shoot Sky a wink, and just before he'd shut the bathroom door behind him. If she could taunt, so could he.

With his gaze locked on her a few minutes later, subsequent to his exit from the bathroom, the colour drained Ben's face; not that, with his English complexion, much change would be evident; when Sky increased the volume on the television, and her legs gave way. Then he grit his teeth, and glanced up to be met with the smiling image of Sky's mother, and couldn't help but wonder how she'd cope with the shock it must have imparted, and the knowledge that soon the entire country would be on the lookout for her. Any immediate thoughts of the potential damage to their, yet to be discussed, escape plan were pushed to back of his mind when the man was suddenly overwhelmed with compassion for Schuyler. This was the very last thing she deserved to be awakened to. Even if the woman had stolen his tea.

He waited for her to crack completely, and break-down in a flood of emotion, however, although tears streamed from her eyes, Sky remained mostly composed, and that served to confirm Ben's earlier impression that she possessed a serious inner strength, for which he was grateful. She'd require it to cope with the situation at hand, and whether she was aware of it or not, it was a quality the people would look for in their future Queen. One that would gain her the respect of her Fiefdom if she decided to accept the role.

"If your Mother was anything like her daughter, I'm sorry that I never had the opportunity to become acquainted." Ben replied with a soft, sympathetic smile when she eventually approached, and nodded in acquiescence of her choice of hair colour. " Where ever we go, and whatever happens, she'll be with us in spirit, and we'll do all in our power to make her even more proud of you than I'm certain she already is." The man trusted his utterance didn't come across as condescending or false, because Sky's flat emotionless tone and demeanour had hit a nerve, and he meant every word. Bem maintained eye contact for a little while after his voice dissipated, then gripped Sky's arm, and led her out through the door to the elevator.

"Shit." That was the first utterance that slipped from his mouth when they reached the foyer, and he noted the same clerk from the previous night staring bug-eyed at a television monitor suspended from the roof in one corner. It displayed a full-screen photograph of the face of the woman who accompanied Ben.

"It's her." The wonder in the young man's whisper was akin to that you'd expect from a five-year old child on Christmas night waking to discover Santa Claus in his living room, and the shock only increased when he finally reacted to the ping of the elevator and his head shot around to be confronted with the real-life visage of Schyuler Lassiter. "It's you. The Hooker." His arm shook as a trembling digit lifted to point.

"Fuck, I thought it'd take them longer." Ben glanced sideways at Sky with an expression of annoyance pasted across his features, which swiftly morphed to one of concern when his attention was attracted by the sound of door hinges squeaking, and he watched a black, wing-tipped shoe step through the entrance.

"Shit." The British Spy's normally extensive vocabulary continued to remain that of an eighth grade bully as he immediately realised the danger, and swiftly gripped Sky's elbow with more urgency, dragged his companion behind a large potted-tree, and held a finger to his lips in a signal to be silent. From that viewpoint, his gaze moved up from the black wing-tips of the new arrival to the black suit-trousers that accompanied them, and the same coloured jacket, then came to rest on the Slavic features of the man they adorned. As the Russian slowly walked to the check-in desk, Ben released his grip on Sky, and whispered in her ear. "Behind you, six feet to the left. Fire exit. I'll meet you outside. Scream if you get into trouble."

Without waiting to see if she would obey his command, or if she were even capable of moving, the MI6 agent stepped from the foliage of the potted plant, and, with the youth still staring, drew back his jacket to briefly reveal his gun, motioned to the Russian, and shook his head. "Excuse me, young Sir, I'd like to lodge a complaint. I ordered a blonde, not a brunette."

Ben could only hope as he then approached the duo at the counter, and gave the potential assassin a cheery shrug when the man turned to see from whom the words had emanated, that his bulk, and the plant foliage, obscured the woman behind him, and the emergency exits weren't alarmed. Or that the clerk, whose expression was becoming more apoplectic and confused by the second, wouldn't suffer a heart-attack.

He was being sincere. It was odd. But it was also kind of nice. Sky wasn’t a fool to fall for it though. She kept herself well composed because she cried enough last night. She needed to keep her head clear because of what they were about to embark upon. She wasn’t an idiot. If they already posted her mother’s picture and announced about Sky, it wouldn’t be long before they found a picture of her to broadcast throughout the entire country. It dawned on her that it would make their plan to leave the hotel, let alone the country, a very complicated one. She was resolved to believe Ben even more at this point. If he was truly here to help and was actually good at his job—from all the James Bond movies she watched, MI6 were supposed to be brilliant—they would get through this. That was the task at hand. Dealing with her emotions and mourning for her mother would come later. At least she was being kept busy, so that until night time came, she didn’t think about it too much. Even though it was at the very forefront of her brain.

All she could do was nod her head at his sentiment, uttering a polite but nearly inaudible ‘Thank you’ before he took her arm and led her out of the hotel room. Thankfully, the walk from the hotel room to the foyer was easy. But the moment they got to the foyer, she heard the utterance from Ben and then looked up, her eyes going bug-eyed wide seeing her photo on the screen. It didn’t help her mood, especially when the clerk seemed to go off in wonder at seeing her photo and then the real life version of her. But calling her ‘The Hooker’ like it was her new and official title was the last straw. Her teeth grit and she stepped forward to potentially punch the stupid fucker but she felt Ben jerk her back.

There was a far clearer and present danger than the stupid clerk, who was most likely a virgin. Hence the wonder. He acted as if she was a celebrity hooker or something, as if there was such a thing. Unless…porn stars counted as celebrity hookers? After all, they did get paid to have sex.

Someone had walked through the door and now faced the clerk. Jeez, these Russians just didn’t give up! Sky wanted to cry out in frustration and just run back to the hotel room and hide. At least it was safer. Until they started to shoot the place up. Then she realized this wasn’t a movie but it was also happening like one. It was like a really bad juvenile James Bond movie happening, but it wouldn’t stop. It kept getting worse. Sure, they made an announcement about her, put her photo up so the entire country could know who she was, but the dangers kept coming. More men to kill. More men to watch die. It felt like whatever innocence she did retain was slowly being chipped away the more bodies dropped like flies.

Ben jerked her back quickly, out of sight of the Russian and whispered to her to basically turn around and run. She remembered where he parked but there was no guarantee that she’d be safe waiting at the car while he took matters into his own hands. What if he took forever? What if while she was waiting for him, something bad happened to him? What if something bad happened to her? What if the bad guys were waiting right outside where he wanted her to run? There were so many what-ifs that she could drive herself insane with them. Clearing her mind, she took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Sky was rooted to where she stood and Ben didn’t even wait to see if she obeyed him. She just stood there. She didn’t know what to do. The fear was kicking in and totally taking over whatever strength she had. There was no adrenaline to be found even though she was waiting for it to kick in. But she didn’t want to fail him. He was protecting her and she had to help as much as she could so he could protect her and succeed in it.

Staying hidden, she looked around the corner as he approached and came up with an excuse. The look on the clerk was such a dead giveaway. Sky couldn’t be there right now. That was when she finally moved and she made a hasty and quiet exit out the back door, thankfully not tripping an alarm. She came out the back of the hotel building and rounded the corner quickly, keeping her head down and trying to be as cavalier as possible. She needed to act normal.

As she neared the parking lot, there was a big black SUV and two men in black with black shades and European features waiting outside of it. She saw their guns peeking through at the waistband of their slacks and she gulped. Then the worst happened and they saw her. She wondered if they recognized her so she just averted her gaze and continued on walking. They murmured something to each other and nodded her way. That was when they started to walk toward her. Finally, the adrenaline kicked in.

Swallowing hard, she kept her composure as calm as possible. One man, a blonde, approached her and he pushed up his glasses, revealing beautiful blue eyes. Talk about the perfect ‘Aryan.’ If he wasn’t there to capture her, she’d try to pick him up, she’d love to tousle with him in bed. Or over a balcony.

“Excuse me Miss,” his voice was deep, his accent thick. “Can you step aside with us?”
“Um…” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “My mommy told me not to talk to strangers.” She tried to sound as innocent as possible, even putting on the innocent face.

Both men exchanged a glance and then snickered. “We heard your mother is dead.”
That struck a nerve and her fists clenched at her sides.
“Grab her.” The other ordered and as they lunged to her, she quickly backed aaway, flipping back twice. She faced them and breathed quickly, the adrenaline spiking through her intensely. It fueled her to evade capture.

One man lunged at her and she grabbed his shoulder, flipping herself over him and her feet came down hard on the man behind him. He went down quick since she apparently kicked him hard to his head. Landing on her feet, the other guy turned and he moved to her but she leaned forward, grabbing his hips and kicked her leg back, her foot colliding into his face. God, she was so glad she trained hard as a dancer.

The man stumbled back and while his partner was still down, she took the moment to reach down and pick up the gun from the guy who was down. She thumbed the safety off and pointed it right at the Russian, who at this point, pulled out his own gun. It looked like they were at a Mexican standoff. This man had his glasses still on. They were shiny, like mirrors. That was when she saw the man behind her starting to stand up.

Sky lowered the gun and then quickly ducked, a shot ringing off. The man behind her crumpled to the floor, lifeless and the man in front of her lunged for her. He knocked her to the ground and they rolled twice with him ending up on top of her. Sky struggled. He was trying to push the gun away from them and he was strong but she was fast. She kept pushing it to him. Then her finger slipped and she ended up pulling the trigger. The man jerked on top of her, warm liquid pouring from his wound and onto her. For a moment she thought he pissed himself but soon he went still on her.

She screamed as the realization kicked in. She killed a person. Again. Her body started to shake tremendously as the adrenaline left her and it felt like her strength was slowly leaving her the more she killed, chipping away bit by bit to leave her a hollow shell of her former self. She didn’t stop screaming and her eyes stung with tears.

What the hell was happening to her? She hadn’t cried this much since she was little. Everything was so overwhelming. It was all too much. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She was a normal girl. She was a dancer. Her entire life just turned upside down. It was one thing to have killed the guy yesterday. At least his blood wasn’t pouring on her. It was certainly a whole other thing right now to have killed again and be pinned down by this heavy dead body. She couldn’t stop screaming, wailing and crying for help.

Ben did say to scream if she got in trouble after all.

With sunglasses covering the stranger's eyes, Ben couldn't see them, but he possessed no doubts that, under the black lenses, they'd be a cold, steely blue, and that knowledge, combined with the size of the stranger, almost as wide as he was tall, and the firmly pressed together, unsmiling lips, visible when he turned to look at the man who'd interrupted, caused goosebumps to snake their way down Ben's spine. These were not men to be fucked with.

To his rear, he could hear the soft breathing of Sky, however, he didn't dare glance around to see if she'd followed his instructions, but instead kept his ears attuned for the sounds of movement as he stepped up to the counter, and placed his bulk between the assassin and Schuyler's hiding position. The clerk in the meantime, continued to stare at Ben, mouth agape, stuttering and trembling, with the news item in the background, announcing the name Schuyler Lassiter over and over.

Ben coughed to cover the sound of a scuffling sound behind him, and tensed, when the Russian's hand moved to his breast pocket, He, in turn, lowered his. "This woman." The man-in-black's accent was thick, as with Ben prepared to withdraw his weapon and shoot from the hip, he pulled a photograph from his pocket; one that matched the woman's on the television screen; and leaned over the counter to grip the shaken clerk by his shirt collar, and roughly lifted him off his feet. "Have you seen her." The kid's legs kicked out in a vain search for the floor as the Russian dropped the image on the counter, and jabbed at it with a thick forefinger.

"I, I, I." The pimply youth's voice shook and his face drained of all colour as his shirt collar tightened around his neck, and tears begun to roll down his cheeks. That's when Ben sensed a shadow slip past him, and as he winced at the noise of a door being opened, three sets of eyes turned towards her.

Thump.

The boy's torso hit the tile floor, and the Russian screamed, "You. Stop." as he pulled a semi-automatic weapon from inside his jacket, and moments later the sound of bullets shredding metal echoed around the foyer, just missing Sky as the fire-entrance closed behind her. With the man otherwise occupied, Ben dived to avoid the fusillade of shrapnel, and had freed his weapon by the time he'd somersaulted, and landed on his feet behind the gunner.

Bang.

The Russian didn't see it coming. One bullet to the back of his head, that split his skull and misted the air with a spray of red blood and gray brain matter before he lumped forward and face-planted the wooden counter.

Knowing his missile had done the job the second it'd been fired, Ben didn't pause. His acrobatics having taken him beside the entrance door, he swiftly locked it, then bounded the counter , grabbed the boy, who was on his back, panting and moaning with fear, feet scrambling on the tile, by the collar as the Russian had done, and jammed the gun in his face. It was still early, and with night clientele who rented the rooms by the hour having departed, and the Hookers catching up on their beauty sleep, Ben hoped to be able to buy some time before the murder was discovered. For that, he needed to ensure the clerk's silence.

He pressed the hot muzzle against the terrified kid's lips, and shook his head. "That woman?" he said harshly, hitting the man's teeth with the metal, and inclining his head to her image on the television screen. "She ain't no fucking hooker." As to whether he heard it before Ben twirled the gun in his hand, and tapped the butt against the man's temple, causing his expression to go blank and for the boy to fall to the floor, unconscious, was debatable.

The duo taken care of, Ben's next immediate thought was for the safety of Schuyler, and as he raced for the fire-escape, he heard her screams. "Shit." Roberts kicked the bullet-ridden door open, and sprinted out, scanning for cover even as he took in the scene before him. One man was dead, or at least knocked out, and there was another, covered in blood, on top of Schuyler. "Drop the fucking weapon." A shiver of fear, both for the woman, and at his own failure if she were dead, coursed through his veins as he approached with arms extended. He didn't dare shoot, in case the bullet hit Sky.

Then he realised it was the man who was dead. "Damn," Ben muttered as he pushed the corpse off Schuyler with one foot, reached for the screaming woman's hand, and pulled her to her feet. "Are you okay, are you injured?" The urgency in his voice was evident as he appraised her for damage, and grimaced at the unfairness of the situation that caused the tears to flow down her cheeks, which only increased when the sound of screeching of tyres pierced the air, and two more black SUV's appeared in a puff of rubberised smoke. "Fuck, these bastards don't give up, do they."

The MI6 agent fired one shot through the windscreen of each as he swiftly dragged Skyler towards his own vehicle, and gunfire exploded in return to his. With bullets flying all around them and pinging off the reinforced steel exterior, he opened the drivers side door, and placed the keys in her hand. "Pull yourself together, Sky. You drive, I shoot." Ben was going to have a lot of making up to do for his apparent lack of compassion when and if they reached safety, however, first, they needed to remain alive in order for him to be able to do that.

Her shirt was stained. She could feel it. The hot gush of what had to be his blood pooled onto her clothes and once again, she was covered with another person’s blood. This meant the second person she had killed and it was not boding well on her soul one bit. She wondered if killing in self-defense tore her soul apart each time or if it kept it firmly intact. Either way, she wasn’t sure because right now it just felt like pain and anguish, not satisfaction over the fact she wasn’t dead.

After what felt like forever, the dead body was pulled off of her and she was thankfully pulled up onto her feet. She thought for a moment that he’d pull her into his arms, something she was surprised she wanted. Sky didn’t want to be coddled and sheltered but right now, a hug would have gone a long way. At the same time, it would likely be a bad idea because if he hugged her right now, the crying wouldn’t stop for a long while and it seemed like she needed to stay in check long enough to be of some use to Ben. Based on by the way she heard the sounds of more vehicles approaching and quite rapidly with the way they skidded and burned rubbed in their quick pursuit.

Her sobs managed to come down as a spike of fear in her increased. They were essentially surrounded, in the sense that there was just her and Ben against two vehicles of men. She quickly ducked behind his own vehicle are bullets shot around them and she covered her head, not wanting to catch the ire of a burning shot. Fear spiked high but soon morphed into adrenaline. No wonder she was getting exhausted so quickly. With them being on the run and in pursuit by scary men who probably wanted bad things for her, if she was the supposed heir to the British Crown, adrenaline was her only source and hope to not completely fall apart. Behind the scenes, like in a motel room, she was a complete emotional wreck with no chance for things to cool down just so she could have the time to grieve. But her only surviving grace was the adrenaline that pushed her harder than any spark of caffeine in her blood stream.

In her hands, he shoved the car keys and she looked at them in confusion. Understanding dawned on her quick and she gulped. She hadn’t actually ever gotten her driver’s license. She actually failed the test three times. She was going to go again in about a month but then everything went to shit. She was always told that she wasn’t being alert enough in her driving, she didn’t look around enough, neither could she parallel park and they didn’t quite appreciate that she liked to listen to music while she drove, also driving one handed only. But Ben didn’t know that, neither did he have to. So…maybe in this situation, it could all be just fine?

“Uh, right.” She’d get on his case about the lack of compassion later. For now, she needed to kind of bullshit her way through driving and get them out of this situation. She needed to get her head in the game. Climbing into the driver’s side of the door, with a shaky hand, she finally managed to push the key into the ignition and turn it, turning the engine on. Shutting the door, once Ben was inside of the car, she buckled up and then quickly put the car into drive. Or well, she thought it was drive but found out, the moment she pressed down hard on the gas pedal that it was actually in reverse.

Unknown to her, there had been one of the Russians coming up behind the car and she pretty much mowed him down. The sound of a crunching sound and the fact the car went up what felt like a small hill made her freeze in horror. But their survival was on the line and she looked down. “Dammit…” She put the car into drive and shook her head. “I don’t want to know…” Pressing her foot down on the gas pedal, the car skidded forward and she gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Oh my god…oh my god…oh my god…” She whispered. It felt so foreign to drive, since she wasn’t entirely good at it. She was eighteen years old and still didn’t have her license. It shouldn’t have been so shocking but usually people her age tended to have their license already. Not Sky. The one thing she couldn’t do…

She decided not to look at Ben. If she did, he might figure out that she couldn’t drive. Her mom did her best to teach her and even when Sky thought she was ready, she still sucked so bad at it. She got the general grasp of it but sometimes it became a bit complicated and she couldn’t quite keep up. Like using blinkers…it was just really bad hand-eye coordination.

Still, she drove on and with how fast she was going, the two SUVs behind them seemed to struggle in catching up with them. But going around in circles in the parking lot seemed like a complete waste of time, especially with all the guns going off. They weren’t getting anywhere and she didn’t want one of those bullets to break the glass and embed into her skull or Ben’s. So Sky took a risk and she went out onto the main road. Of course, she waited for the clear so she didn’t kill anyone else—innocent, to boot—but once it was, she pulled out and turned an immediate right. She wasn’t exactly sure what direction she was to be going but she found the entryway onto the high way and took it. She figured if she could get them lost on the highway among other cars, the better it would be for her and Ben to get away faster.

Looking in her rearview mirror, she didn’t see the black SUVs following. She even changed lanes a few times, going in and out through them in a sort of zig-zag pattern, and as legally as she could possibly manage until she was sure that she lost them. Her hands were practically glued to the steering wheel, gripping them so tightly because she was trying her hardest to concentrate. “I think I lost them.” Her eyes were glued before her and she was trying to practice that looking everywhere thing that they said she didn’t do. It was weird but also becoming easier to manage and still drive well. “I should probably mention now that I am not a legally licensed driver. I don’t actually really know how to drive. And I’m on the highway…with cars everywhere…” She gulped. Sky felt the shakes begin again. “So…if we die, please don’t haunt my ghost and I won’t haunt yours.” She laughed slightly, trying to make a joke of what would be seen by an outsider as a comical moment, but in the moment, kind of a frightening one.

Ben could see the fear in her eyes, even through the welling tears, and wished he had a moment to stop and console Sky, and assure her that all would be okay, although that would have been a lie. Nothing would ever be the same for Schuyler Lassiter again. His seeming lack of compassion was deliberate, as their first priority was to get away from these men alive, and the best way to keep someone from going into shock was to not give them time to allow the adrenaline to cease flowing.

If she froze, with the two Suv's parked bumper-to-bumper, doors open, and men in black suits and sunglasses kneeling on the ground, and firing their automatic weapons at the couple, they'd both be dead within seconds. Ben wasn't so much concerned about the mission now, or who'd be the next fucking Queen of England, but for Sky's safety. The woman deserved a break. "Quick. GO"

He pressed the keys more firmly into her hand, anxious about her confused look, and wondering if she comprehended what he intended for her to do, and winced when a bullet parted his hair, and another thudded into the body of their vehicle, missing her by an inch. Ben screamed again, but the noise was drowned by a hail of gunfire and ricocheting bullets, and then she was in the car. "Drive.'

His weapon in hand, Ben swore as he emptied his clip, and simultaneously noted a man inching his way toward the back of their vehicle. "Behind us." The agent fumbled to reload his weapon, racing against time before the Russian reached them, and had a clear shot, when the woman surprised him again. Sky must have noticed their adversary as well, and, instead of throwing the car in first, she hit reverse, and seconds later, with a thud, the man was struck by two tons of metal. One down.

Ben shot her a glance, but didn't have time to congratulate Sky on her quick thinking as she circled the parking lot; looking for an avenue of escape, or attempting to provide him an angle for a headshot?; and, with weapon now reloaded, he powered down the window and returned fire. "Shit'. The agent ducked and yelped with each bullet that pinged off metal and spider-webbed the windshield, spraying the interior with shards of glass. As Sky finally headed for the main road, Ben changed tactics, and fired into the front tyres of their opponents' vehicles as they passed, hearing the satisfying pop of rubber.

"Put your foot down." The burst tyres didn't stop their adversaries, and the two vehicles screeched onto the road, burning smoke, with the occupants hanging out the windows, firing their weapons, however it did slow them down, and after a few minutes they'd left them far behind. "Holy shit." The agent swiveled to face Sky, and dropped his gun-hand. "They're gone. Great work." With the adrenaline departing his bloodstream, he barely managed to shoot her a smile before he leaned his head against the backrest, closed his eyes, and released a massive sigh.

Seconds later, his body jerked forward, and with eyes popped open, he stared at Schuyler, before his attention darted between her and the multitude of other vehicles on the highway. "You wha....?", The expression on his face was one of disbelief, "You mean, back there?," and he couldn't form a full sentence. "Saving us. That was an accid...?" A cacophony of laughter filled the cab, and Ben slapped his leg, before he eventually recovered his composure and shook his head in admiration. "Holy shit, you really are one in a million, so I promise I won't haunt your ghost. However, you should pull off onto a side road. We need to hide the car, and find another." There was nothing like a bullet-riddled black SUV with shattered windows to attract the attention of patrol officers

After further contemplation, he reached over and placed his hand gently on top of Sky's. "We'll locate a strip-mall, grab some breakfast, and figure out a plan. Maybe I'll finally get to have my morning mug of tea." His voice was soft, and his touch reassuring, as he squeezed her hand, and held her eyes. "It should be safe if we're careful. Just stay strong a little longer, then I'll allow you time to grieve and take it all in." A mischievous gleam returned to his features when he released her hand, and used his thumb to wipe a smear of blood from her cheek, "You can even punch me in the knackers again, if it helps."

She expected him to yell, to throw a fit, maybe even swear a bunch of words that she wouldn’t be sure were entirely legal to say. Instead, the MI6 agent just started laughing after he stuttered his disbelief in what she admitted. She didn’t know how to drive, mowing down that one Russian was a complete accident, though a miracle for them because it meant one less evil man to gun down or fend off, and she was on the high way, somehow managing not to alert attention or get them killed. Yeah, it was a wonder to her as well but at least he was taking it pretty damn well. A normal and probably sane person would have thrown some kind of hissy fit. If her mother was not her mother, she’d likely throw a hissy fit as well and probably yell at her for such reckless driving.

“Well you’re very welcome.” She smiled tightly, her grip on the steering wheel tightening since she was still shaking. “I’ll take this exit. It seems like an abandoned part of town.” It looked like a rest stop with other cars that seemed to be abandoned. Maybe one of them would fit the bill to drive for them to continue their trip in. Taking the exit, she managed to switch lanes without colliding into another oncoming vehicle and exhaled a shaky sigh of relief as she came to the stop light preventing her from turning right. There was a sign that said no right turn on red. It was a red light. So she stayed until the light turned green.

Once it did, she turned right and continued down, pulling into the lot of abandoned cars. Putting the car into park, she turned the ignition off and looked at him when his hand touched hers. She smiled gently, her shaking officially stopping by the tender moment of compassion he showed her. Now that they were safe—for now—the adrenaline ceased and she felt a headache coming on as well as exhaustion. But more than anything, she wanted to get food and go shopping. The sooner she got these bloodied clothes off of her, the better. And when they stopped for the night at another hotel, she wanted a really long and hot shower to wipe off the blood that seemed to be accumulating. What was the saying? Blood on her hands? Yeah well right now it felt dripping because this meant three men she had killed. Sure, all three of them were strokes of luck and in defense but they were still deaths that she had caused for her own survival. Don’t get her wrong, she’d much rather be the alive one as she was, and not dead, and even though they probably wanted to hard her, she still killed. A life was still a life.

“Thank you.” She said with another relieved sigh, sitting back agains the seat. She turned her head in his direction, the smile on her face real, full of her gratitude and she seemed to abandon her snide behavior since he had basically put their lives in her hands, without knowing her lack of ability to drive and she had actually succeeded too. As he swiped her cheek with his finger, she grinned slowly, her grin turning into a fully broad one no matter her fatigue. “I will take that into definite consideration. But I will promise to lick, coddle and massage them back to life after doing that.” She winked at him, enjoying a moment of innocent playful banter no matter how dirty, before she opened her door and slipped out.

Shutting the door behind her, she looked down at herself. Her shirt seemed to have taken the brunt of all the blood, her shorts surprisingly clean for the most part with only small drops of blood. She unbuttoned her shirt completely and then tied it at the bust, tucking the ties inside up toward her breasts. It showed her stomach but it also hid the blood. So if anyone saw her, they’d just think her a hussy or a slut but she didn’t really care. She was a slut, yes, but so far from a hooker because she didn’t charge for a pound. Untying her hair, she plaited it into a braid over her shoulder and it eased whatever tension she felt in her scalp, which immediately relieved her headache. Apparently she had tied it too tightly.

Walking around the front of the car, she put her hands on her curvy hips and looked around the lot. She spotted an old Honda which happened to be unlocked with the keys in the ignition. Inspecting the car, she saw that the tires were in perfect condition, the engine worked just fine when she turned it on and it had half a tank of gas. So why was it abandoned? Looking at the front two seats, she saw what looked to be old and dried throw up stains. Seriously? That was enough cause to abandon a car? With the window rolled down, there wasn’t even any stench.

Moving back over to Ben, she searched his person for a knife before going back to the car. She ripped up the back seats fabric and placed them over the old throw up stains, tucking the fabric into the back edge of the seat so they didn’t come out. Proud of her handiwork, she went back to him and presented him the car. “I give you a perfectly good Honda.” She smiled. “Can we go to a mall now? I’m starving and I’d love to buy some clothes. I mean, I know you probably like me like this, fitting the bill of a cheap hooker, but I’d like to make it out of the country unscathed and not raped.” She waggled her eyebrows, a grin forming onto her face. “I’ll even buy you a tiara.” She reached her hand up and pinched his cheek, the way a doting grandma or annoying aunt might to a little child. “Wouldn’t you like that little Benji?” She even said it in a baby voice to add more annoyance to the already annoying gesture, even giving him a nickname he'd likely hate. He didn't seem like a Benji anyways.

Ben was too taken with the irony of the situation to be angry. They'd researched Sky Lassiter's entire history since the day of her birth, which schools she'd attended, the grades she'd received, any violations of the law, her hobbies and ambition to become a dancer, and gained photograph's off the internet, and from school yearbooks. With all that, there'd been no requirement to search for her drivers licence, as to Ben the job was a simple snatch-and-fly, and they'd only be together for a couple of hours on American soil.

No wonder Schuyler's record had come up clean of traffic tickets, and that thought elicited another amused chuckle from Ben. Now that the danger was over, for the time being at least, the release of adrenaline transformed his demeanour. They'd escaped by pure luck, caused by a lack of information. What if he'd been aware the woman didn't have the first clue about handling a vehicle? Well, he would have taken that onus upon himself, and most likely, at this very minute, they'd both be slumped against the SUV's dashboard in the parking lot of the hotel, with blood dripping from bullet holes in the back of their heads.

"Why do I feel you're going to continue to surprise me, Schuyler Lassiter," Ben muttered as he wiped the smear of blood from her cheek, and sensed a change in attitude towards him. However, that didn't stop her from shocking him again, and the mans jaw dropped as he instinctively crossed his legs, that action time elicited as much by the immediate thoughts of pleasure, as they were remembered pain. "Whilst I believe in your skills, and appreciate you saving my life, I'm not yet sure that I could trust you to treat the crown jewels with the gentleness and reverence they deserve." Ben matched Sky's teasing tone, before he diverted his attention to the location she had selected to dispose of the vehicle, and nodded in approval.

The agent departed the SUV after her, and paused to collect his medical bag, and a suitcase from the backseat, and when he glanced up she surprised him again. For a woman who couldn't drive, she certainly knew a lot about cars, however, it wasn't that fact that caused his eyes to almost bug out of his head, and his gaze dropped to the toned abdomen, revealed by the shirt now tied around her waist, and the cleavage it displayed. Did she do this just to tease him? Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he deposited his suitcase on the back of the Honda. "I don't mind in the slightest, and whilst I could stare all day and more at that wonderful body of yours."

"OUCH"

The agent's words were interrupted by her pinch of his cheek, just as his grandmother always did, and he swatted her hand away and shot her a death stare before continuing. "The object at the mall is to not draw attention to ourselves, so I want you to wear this." His slight look of annoyance transformed into one of satisfaction when he held up an ankle length white trench-coat, which would likely reach Sky's knees, lifted a hand to ruffle her hair, deposited a Manchester United cap on top of her head, and maneuvered her to the passenger seat. "Sunglasses too, if you have them. Don't worry, you'll still be sexy to me." Ben threw the coat on her lap before he shut her door, and entered the drivers side.

Once he'd placed the Honda into gear, and they'd departed the lot, the MI6 agent twisted his head to gauge how she'd had taken his directions, and patted her knee. "As for that tiara, as long as it comes with a solid gold chain and some bling." Ben's white teeth gleamed in the cab, "Because, considering your Oscar-worthy performance last evening, and the fact I'm the one with the expense card, I've decided we'll purchase more of what you're wearing under, and once away, return to posing as Pimp and Hooker." After a second pat of her knee, Ben then returned his focus to the road, whistling merrily, and not saying another word until, a few minutes later, he pulled the vehicle to a stop in the parking lot of a mall, and leaned across to open Sky's door. "After you, your Majesty."

“Because I’m unpredictable, Special Agent.” She grinned. “That’s what makes me so devilishly awesome. Haven’t you heard?” She then put on her best British accent that actually sounded quite believable. “I’m not queen. I’m the devil’s mistress. And you’re on your one-way ticket to hell to meet the big daddy.” She waggled her eyebrows. Her mood had increasingly lightened but it was a simple matter of putting things into perspective. Sure, Sky was Ben’s mission but he had stayed true to that and kept her safe. He was like James Bond…But a lot more handsome and was equipped with a better sense of humor than Mr. Bond. Although if he ever ordered a martini shaken not stirred, she might double over with laughter until it killed her. Because only then would she really feel like she was in a James Bond movie. Then again, it wouldn’t be so bad. She had always wanted to be a Bond girl, whether it was a good one or a bad one. Either way, they got to sleep with the sexy agent.

That and the fact it was these moments that kept her sane after everything that happened. Without them, she’d likely be a broken husk of her former self. But with all of this, this fight for survival, she had something to keep going for. Nothing would ever justify her mother’s murder. But perhaps if everything went well, she could escape from this unscathed, go through years of therapy and maybe find a way to rule a country. Though to her understanding, England’s monarchy was more of a figure head than an actual monarchy, like the one back in the day when it actually had power. Parliament had the power and for good reason but still, the people of England did still look to their King or Queen. But she wasn’t sure she liked that idea. That was a lot of pressure. And all she had ever truly aspired to be was a dancer.

Those thoughts were dispelled by the lightheartedness of their little conversation full of quick quips and little jabs that sounded very perverted. Sky outright laughed at his reaction to her saying she’s lick, coddle and comfort his jewels after hitting them again. He didn’t seem to like it, or if he did, he had an odd way of showing it by the way he squeezed his legs together. She giggled and shook her head. “Here I thought MI6 Agents were tough as nails, feared nothing, least of all being hit in their balls.” She giggled, rolling her eyes.

Ben seemed to really approve what she did to the Honda she found. It was in perfect condition aside from the throw up stains but Sky had promptly covered them up. Once she presented the car to him, she did notice how his eyes seemed to linger more on her than the actual car. She wondered if she should have pressed her body up against the car like a pin up. That would have really driven him wild and to be quite honest, the very thought of it amused her. But it also excited her. Was she having an effect on the MI6 agent? Or was he just simply playing a little too close to the game, shaving too close to the collar, and actually thinking this was a James Bond movie where he got the girl in the end?

To her dismay though, he handed her some clothes that seemed to cover her. Sky was a confident gal, always was and she worked hard to achieve the things she had. She had no shame in exposing her body to people, so long as she wasn’t completely nude. No, that was for private times with a man, who was likely to also be naked too. What she wore and how she dressed herself only accentuated her figure and though she didn’t flaunt it often, didn’t mean she was opposed to it. Still, the white trench coat was highly unappealing but she rolled her eyes. Putting it on, she buttoned it up and was kind of thankful for the fact that no one would see blood on her. But she wouldn’t thank him. No, that would just be justifying this choice of jacket. He mussed her hair up which earned a glare in his direction. “Yeah, you better watch your balls after mussing up my hair.” And placed this offending cap on her head. Practically snatching the sunglasses out of his hands, she put them on. “You sure do know how to make a girl go from a playful mood to a seriously annoyed mood.” She hissed.

Getting into the car, she buckled up and looked to him. Though she felt annoyed, she was easy to smile at how he was able to go from giving her hideous clothes to a somewhat compassionate man. She pushed the sunglasses down her nose and looked at him. “Throw a ball and chain into the mix, I think you will fit quite the bill.” Waggling her eyebrows, she pushed her sunglasses back up her nose and sat back to enjoy the ride.

The hooker comment did not go unnoticed by her but she decided not to react. Not quite yet. Only once he parked into the mall’s parking lot, did she finally react. She unbuckled herself and then reached over to him, her hand moving between his legs, cupping him through his pants. Not in a vice grip but she knew she’d certainly get his attention this way. “Call me a hooker again and you best hope you’re not the first I send to the gallows.” She whispered, his lips brushing along his ear. “The only time I enjoy being called such names is if I am bent over…a thick cock inside of me…plundering me hard, the way a man would do to a whore.” It was almost a purr rather than a whisper. She then kissed his cheek and slowly released his jewels. “Got it?” But she wasn’t even angry. She had this smirk on her face and as she pulled back completely, her head tilted. “Good.” She didn’t even wait for him to answer.

Opening the door, she got out of the car and smoothed the jacket over her body before she began to walk, a slight pep in her step. It just might be a lot of fun to mess with this agent. If he thought she’d make this easy for him, he had a rude awakening coming for him. Schuyler was being tested by the trials she was apparently forced to go through. These little games were the only way she knew how to stay sane. And apparently her new prey was the MI6 agent protecting her. She couldn’t help it. She needed some way not to lose her mind completely. He’d just have to endure whatever went through her mind, the fact she had no filter and also that with everything she did, she only further proved how unladylike she was for any kind of monarchy throne. Scandal in England, most certainly!

Walking into the store, she took her sunglasses off and placed them atop her head. The first store she saw was a ‘Wet Seal’ and she walked right into it. She normally didn’t shop here, preferring Old Navy or even a WalMart but she liked clothes from here and it was the first sore she saw. She needed to get out of bloody clothes and into actual clean ones. She started browsing around, picking up some jeans, shorts, shirts, even some flimsy panties and bras that they sold there. If Ben was paying, well then he better buy her all this stuff. Normally she wasn’t really one for shopping but right now, just about anything could lighten up her mood. And shopping was one of them.

Ben laughed, as he'd earlier in the car when he'd discovered the woman didn't possess a licence, however, rather than in relief, this was a full-blown, natural one that emanated from deep in his belly, and the man's eyes watered when it eventually ceased. "The balls are the only location that an MI6 agent is scared to be hit. Every man has one weakness, and I'm afraid you've discovered ours. Don't let on to our opponents." Ben replied, tapping her on the shoulder, and bumping his hip against hers. I guess I'm fortunate that I don't believe in the Big Daddy, and perchance if M'aam is curious?"

The agent raised a brow, and his lips curled up into a smirk. "Her accent is a touch too Colonial, more akin to that of the lowly Australian convict class than a superior British Gentlewoman, fit for our Queen. It will require practice." His voice flattened and rose in pitch, and Ben enunciated each word slowly in demonstration of the appropriate pompous tone she'd need to adopt. Not that Sky's really had been terrible, but he wasn't going to admit that, or that she presented a challenge in the battle of wits he intended on winning. It was a pity they needed to leave, really, as if they weren't being pursued by a multitude of sadistic and determined Russian Mafia with semi-automatic weapons and no ethics, sense of humour or compassion, he could have remained there and swapped banter all day.

He also wouldn't have had to request that Sky cover up her body, an unfortunate requirement that the MI6 agent was as disappointed with as she appeared to be. "Playful to annoyed is part of our training; haven't you ever witnessed James Bond in action?" Ben appraised the trench-coat, noting it hid the blood and that with the sunglasses and hat adorned, Sky was no longer recognisable as the woman plastered across the television screen in the Hotel Lobby. After he baited her one last time about the clothing he planned to purchase at the Mall, Ben remained speechless for the rest of the journey, just whistling, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

That was until he leaned over to open the door, and her hand met his balls. The man winced, prepared for a squeeze, but that concern swiftly departed when his attention was captured by her speech. After what seemed like thirty seconds or so after she'd finished, but was likely only five or ten, he recovered his composure; damn these Americans didn't mince their words; and pretended to act as if what she'd said had had no effect, hoping she hadn't noticed the slight tightening of his suit pants. "Considering I've no experience with real Hookers, I'll take your word for that's how their clients like to treat them." Robert's smiled and pulled back to exit the drivers side door. "Personally, I prefer to bend a woman over and whoop her ass with a paddle until she's begging for cock, and calling herself a slut. Hooker or not."

Ben expression was one of satisfaction when he grasped her elbow, and she led them into the shopping centre. His clothes, five identical pin-stripe suits, were supplied by the agency and lay neatly pressed in his suitcase, so he needn't purchase anything for himself. As Schuyler chose Wet Seal, Ben released his grip and stood at the door, where he could keep one eye on the Mall, and the other on her. He took note of her sizes and when, with arms full, she approached the clerk, the spy removed a pair of thigh-high 'fuck-me' boots, an exceedingly short red leather skirt, and two tiny boob-tube tops from the racks. The latter two garments were a size smaller than Sky had chosen for herself, and Ben added the items to her pile when he joined her at the counter, and presented his expense card to the clerk. Why not, if his Government was paying for them? "For her evening profession, a lady needs to earn her keep." The MI6 agent shot his companion a grin as the woman scanned their purchases.

The spy was aware the transaction would be electronically tracked by his superiors, which was just fine, for he intended to call and request an extract once they were far enough away from the danger of their current location, anyway. However, what he wasn't cognisant of was that some of those superiors weren't exactly on his side, and that soon the mall would be surrounded by adversaries. "Or you can just wear them for my benefit, I'll compensate you." There was something about the woman that, even with the ever present threat of harm to his gonads, he couldn't refrain from taunting, and Ben whispered in Sky's ear and simultaneously issued a smack to her butt after he took hold of the bags, thanked the clerk, and headed in the direction of the Food Hall.

Glancing beside her, Sky saw as Ben walked her way but he wasn’t empty handed. No, he had some other choice items in his hands, items she wouldn’t even be caught dead in. While Sky was all for flaunting, she was the kind that like to flaunt with class. And she was pretty sure he was playing up this hooker charade a bit too much now. This had to be crossing the line, right? But oddly enough, she didn’t even scowl at him as he sidled up beside her and placed the boots, racy skirt and tube tops with the items to be purchased. No, she just smirked. It was almost as if she kind of hoped to wear that for him to really get him going. Give a nice break to his balls…yeah fat chance. He’d likely have blue balls if she wore that for him because there would be no way she’d sleep with him. This wasn’t a James Bond movie after all. Though the thought of being a Bond Girl was very attractive…

But the man just had to keep opening his mouth, didn’t he? She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing just a little bit. She decided to play up the charade a little by casting as innocent of a smile as she could to the cashier while she began to ring up the items for them. Leaning up on her toes, Sky leaned in and trailed her lips along his ear. “You really want to keep my hands on those precious balls of yours, don’t you?” She whispered in a seductive purr, though there was a threat behind them. “I hope you like ice on your balls. Keep up this hooker charade much longer and you’ll go infertile with how I beat them.” Nipping his ear lobe, she pulled back slowly and slid her arm around his back, as if she was the doting hooker who was in love with her pimp. It seemed to appease the cashier who just forced a smile, feeling awkward in this situation since it looked to her like these two were just a few shades from going full on nookie against her counter.

Everything was paid for and the smack to her rear didn’t go unnoticed. But with just a bit of her eyes widening, Sky didn’t make a sound and she smiled to the cashier as she walked out with Ben, of course making sure he took all the bags. That’s what men were useful for during shopping; holding the bags. He seemed to know that pretty well so she had to admit, he was a sharp one. But if he kept goading her…well suffice to say, he had her mind off of everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. So perhaps it wasn’t terrible. But kind of really welcome.

After getting a burger from the burger joint in the food court, Sky carried her tray to a table and sat down. She picked up the large burger and took a bite. The meat was juicy and so full of flavor, it melted right in her mouth. She moaned her appreciation and took another obscenely large bite, getting a little bit of ketchup and mustard on the corner of her mouth. She set her burger down and wiped her mouth clean and looked to Ben. “May I ask why we are keeping up with this hooker charade after all? I mean don’t get me wrong, it is amusing but at the same time, I’m getting a little tired of being paraded around as such, even if it did start off as a cruel joke by that stupid bell boy.” She grumbled.

But in the interest of staying talkative... “Although, out of curiosity, just exactly what kind of hooker do you think I would be? Cheap, high priced and high end, or…ooh even like a geisha?” She smiled brightly, as if the idea of being a geisha appealed to her. She did some research on the very existence of them after reading and then watching, Memoirs of a Geisha, finding it incredibly fascinating. While the movie had some technical errors on the entire culture of geishas, it was still beautifully depicted in a heartbreaking love story in a sense. From her understanding, there were the high end geishas that were more of entertainers and beautiful companions for men to watch, but not touch and then there were the low order geishas that were more like your common prostitute. That was her understanding at least. Sky liked to think that if she were ever a geisha, she’d be of the high end kind, the entertaining and alluring beautiful female who captured the hearts of men who kept their distance but kept their admiration known rather than a secret.

“I think I’d be a geisha.” She smiled, answering the question before he could. “Plus, those kimonos look beautiful. I’d love be given the honor of wearing one someday, let alone owning one.” They were extremely rare and a piece of art in their own right. Each kimono’s design wasn’t there just for decoration but seemed to tell a story itself. It reminded her of the beauty, delicacy, simplicity yet intricacy of traditional Indian dresses, sarees. They were a few yards of designed fabric that were arranged and layered and draped around a woman’s body, showcasing the stunning details of each part. With Sky being a dancer, she was interested in all the different types of dances of the world and with that interest of different cultures and their arts, came the interest in their fashion.

If she truly was meant to be queen, then she’d like to think of herself as a well-rounded one for not having ever actually traveled out of the mainland USA.

The very thought of this conversation took her mind off of a lot. It was just simple chatter with a relatively handsome guy—oh who was she kidding?! He was gorgeous, but she had to not find him attractive—while eating a delicious gourmet burger with perfectly seasoned curly fries and an Oreo milkshake. It felt…normal. And considering everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours or so, normal was a definite must. A truly joyous commodity that she didn't think she'd miss so suddenly. Then again, she hadn't factored in that her life would be turned upside down as quickly as normal beating a hasty retreat from her as well.