Saint Grime
Grim
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2015
- Location
- No man's land
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Dᴏᴜʙʟᴇ Cʀᴏssᴇᴅ Hᴇᴀʀᴛs || Sᴀɪɴᴛ Gʀɪᴍᴇ & LᴜɴᴀEssᴇɴᴄᴇ
- Thread starter Saint Grime
- Start date
LunaEssence
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2024
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Last edited:
OP
OP
Saint Grime
Grim
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2015
- Location
- No man's land
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CHAPTER 1 - TWO CAN PLAY AT THIS GAME
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CHAPTER 1 - TWO CAN PLAY AT THIS GAME
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The Obsidian Circle Contract Phase 1 Mission Briefing Objective: Obtain Goro Inagawa's black book Person of Interest: Goro Inagawa 
Age: 49 Height: 5 ft 9 in Spouse: Mei Inagawa Children: 1 son - Toru Inagawa Known Businesses: Chairperson and founder of Inagwa Holdings, the parent company of several legal firms and hedge funds Known Associates: Several criminal organizations including local Yakuza, drug distributors, arms dealers, and the Obsidian Circle (rumored) Additional Intel: POI is rumored to host regular parties and galas for his friends and clients, has a notable art collection spread across his estates, enjoys aged Japanese whisky, is a rumored Casanova, and has been at odds with his son recently Venue, Date, and Time: Annual Spring gala at the Inagawa Country Estate, City Sector#2, April 15, 2063, 22:00 
Security Level: High Entry Requirements: Invitation card only Entrances and Exits: 1 main entrance for guests, 1 side entrance for staff, 1 known exit at the back of the estate but assumed locked and out of use, pool area overlooks the river bank with a 20 ft drop Additional Intel: The venue has several security cameras, alarms, and smoke detectors. Goro Inagwa's study is on the second floor and the access is using his biometrics. The estate's total area is 1 acre and the mansion is 15,000 square feet. The grounds have regular patrols with guard dogs. The exact building plan is unavailable. Mission Alias: Kevin West - Venture capitalist 
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April 15, 2063 - 8:00
"Good morning Mr. Clean." A monotone masculine voice erupted from an ominous-looking laptop perched up over an empty study table. "Shall we go over tonight's mission briefing one more time?"
"Go ahead, ARIS." The machine's question was met with a grunt from Alexander who was wrapping up his morning workout with the last set of pushups. He exhaled deeply at the last reps and looked up to see the screen of his laptop light up with the briefing document.
"The client has credible intel that Goro Inagawa is the rumored bookkeeper of the Obsidian Circle; a secret society of wealthy and influential individuals that threaten the client's interests. This mission is part of a series of contracts, that if successful, will result in the elimination of the Obsidian Circle. Your first task is to obtain Inagawa's black book, a physical diary of names and addresses that according to the client's intel has the Circle's members' names. Inagawa is rumored to keep the diary on his person at all times. At tonight's event, the most probable location will be the secure study only accessible by Inagawa's biometrics."
"How credible is this intel ARIS?" Alexander asked as he got up and opened the blinds of his apartment windows to let in some of the diffused sunlight. He had a small apartment in Sector 3, situated in an average building. Nothing too grand or flashy so that he could maintain a low profile. The pollution in Sector 3 was a little lower than the slums of Sector 4 and the overcrowded megacity of Sector 1. There was enough light through the smog for his collection of plants to grow. A variety of exotic species were lined up on the window sill shelves. The place looked somewhat personalized yet hinted at the owner being detached. Except for the plants and a few handmade pots from his hobby of pottery, no personalized items were present. A simple studio with the essentials, a small chess board over a coffee table, the study table with Alexander's laptop, and another table that was a makeshift work table with tools and gadgets littered about. Of course, being the abode of a dangerous assassin, the apartment was rigged with alarms, explosives, and hidden firearms in case something went wrong.
"The Syndicate has vouched for the client's intel. I've sent a copy of the briefing over to your phone as well. You'll be going as Kevin West, an upcoming venture capitalist. The Inagawa's are holding their annual Spring Gala tonight. The client has been able to secure you an invitation card. The card is mandatory to enter the premises of the estate. Security will be tight and on high alert. Expect heavily armed security, cameras, and metal detectors. No weapons are possible. This is different from your usual contracts so a sound plan is necessary. No floor plan of the estate is available to the Syndicate and the most I have is what the client has provided. Some personal information about the Inagawa is also in the file. You must find a way to lift off his fingerprints and then create a distraction long enough for you to access the study, retrieve the dairy, and escape. The ideal escape would be out the front entrance and I would advise against a swim in the river."
Kevin West was Alexander's civilian alias. His apartment was registered in this name and so were his bank accounts. It was a simple yet effective cover. Hidden in plain sight. "Alright ARIS. I will have you online with me throughout. You'll have eyes through the cameras in the glasses I'll be wearing and ears through my phone. I'll want real-time situational analysis. I'll be carrying a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a special handkerchief for some fireworks. I'll need to you figure out the right place to create that distraction." By now Alexander was making a cup of coffee, black, no sugar, and leaning against the kitchen counter whilst soaking in the dull sunlight in his black boxers and white tank top. As he took small sips, eyes diverted to the patterned handkerchiefs he'd have on him with his attire tonight. They were on his work table and he had them laced with a flammable chemical. Nothing like a fire alarm to create a distraction at parties.
"The client has specifically requested for your services Mr. Clean. The Syndicate expects to get a five-star review. I've ordered adequate clothing based on the dress code and your tastes and arranged for a rental vehicle as well. Good luck Mr Clean."
"Go ahead, ARIS." The machine's question was met with a grunt from Alexander who was wrapping up his morning workout with the last set of pushups. He exhaled deeply at the last reps and looked up to see the screen of his laptop light up with the briefing document.
"The client has credible intel that Goro Inagawa is the rumored bookkeeper of the Obsidian Circle; a secret society of wealthy and influential individuals that threaten the client's interests. This mission is part of a series of contracts, that if successful, will result in the elimination of the Obsidian Circle. Your first task is to obtain Inagawa's black book, a physical diary of names and addresses that according to the client's intel has the Circle's members' names. Inagawa is rumored to keep the diary on his person at all times. At tonight's event, the most probable location will be the secure study only accessible by Inagawa's biometrics."
"How credible is this intel ARIS?" Alexander asked as he got up and opened the blinds of his apartment windows to let in some of the diffused sunlight. He had a small apartment in Sector 3, situated in an average building. Nothing too grand or flashy so that he could maintain a low profile. The pollution in Sector 3 was a little lower than the slums of Sector 4 and the overcrowded megacity of Sector 1. There was enough light through the smog for his collection of plants to grow. A variety of exotic species were lined up on the window sill shelves. The place looked somewhat personalized yet hinted at the owner being detached. Except for the plants and a few handmade pots from his hobby of pottery, no personalized items were present. A simple studio with the essentials, a small chess board over a coffee table, the study table with Alexander's laptop, and another table that was a makeshift work table with tools and gadgets littered about. Of course, being the abode of a dangerous assassin, the apartment was rigged with alarms, explosives, and hidden firearms in case something went wrong.
"The Syndicate has vouched for the client's intel. I've sent a copy of the briefing over to your phone as well. You'll be going as Kevin West, an upcoming venture capitalist. The Inagawa's are holding their annual Spring Gala tonight. The client has been able to secure you an invitation card. The card is mandatory to enter the premises of the estate. Security will be tight and on high alert. Expect heavily armed security, cameras, and metal detectors. No weapons are possible. This is different from your usual contracts so a sound plan is necessary. No floor plan of the estate is available to the Syndicate and the most I have is what the client has provided. Some personal information about the Inagawa is also in the file. You must find a way to lift off his fingerprints and then create a distraction long enough for you to access the study, retrieve the dairy, and escape. The ideal escape would be out the front entrance and I would advise against a swim in the river."
Kevin West was Alexander's civilian alias. His apartment was registered in this name and so were his bank accounts. It was a simple yet effective cover. Hidden in plain sight. "Alright ARIS. I will have you online with me throughout. You'll have eyes through the cameras in the glasses I'll be wearing and ears through my phone. I'll want real-time situational analysis. I'll be carrying a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a special handkerchief for some fireworks. I'll need to you figure out the right place to create that distraction." By now Alexander was making a cup of coffee, black, no sugar, and leaning against the kitchen counter whilst soaking in the dull sunlight in his black boxers and white tank top. As he took small sips, eyes diverted to the patterned handkerchiefs he'd have on him with his attire tonight. They were on his work table and he had them laced with a flammable chemical. Nothing like a fire alarm to create a distraction at parties.
"The client has specifically requested for your services Mr. Clean. The Syndicate expects to get a five-star review. I've ordered adequate clothing based on the dress code and your tastes and arranged for a rental vehicle as well. Good luck Mr Clean."
• • • • • • •
21:50 - The Inagawa Country Estate
Alexander arrived at the entrance of the Inagawa Estate in a metallic grey rental Audi, sporty yet not too eye-catching so he could easily blend in. As expected, security at the entrance was intense. He rolled his window down and presented the invitation card to the guards with confidence and the careless attitude that most guests would have; eyes up front and a bothered expression on his face that said 'Is this really necessary?'. Acting and espionage weren't Alexander's forte but it was fun to challenge himself once in a while. This mission was just that. Something out of his comfort zone and a test of his skills. The scanner lit up green and the guard returned the invitation card with a smile and nod. "Welcome and have a pleasant evening Mr. West." Tonight he was dressed in a light dull grey suit, a 3 piece consisting of a jacket, vest, and trousers, all tailored to compliment his strong physique. The shoes were black, custom-made to look formal yet give him the grip and comfort needed in case of a high-octane situation. He covered his left hand with a black glove to hide the burn scar. He wasn't the one to cover it with makeup and didn't like intrusive questions about it. The outfit wouldn't be complete without the necessary accessories and tools for tonight's engagement. His tie was dull black, matching his shoes but with tiny polka dots to add a bit of flare. There was a leather strapped timepiece on his left wrist, something of the bygone era to show he had taste in the intricate technology of the past. It was always a good conversation starter. In his jacket pocket was an elegant black scarf, dangerously laced with flammable chemicals. There was a spare inside the side pocket along with his phone, a lighter, and a packet of cigarettes, and hidden in the inner pockets were thin transparent films meant to pick up fingerprints. To communicate with and keep ARIS situationally aware, he had a small device in his ear and wore glasses with a camera on each side of the frame. A specialty technology of his employer that would pass undetected and give him a docile look. Tonight was all about blending in and coming out undetected.
Alexander drove down the driveway slowly, trying to get a good look at the premises and the security situation. The front gardens were being patrolled by a team with guard dogs and it seemed that if anything went wrong, capture was inevitable. "You were right ARIS, security is beefed up. Log in everything you see."
"Affirmative," a monotone voice rang through the device in his ear.
At the large parking, the distant sounds of guests chattering and laughing with the backdrop of live music could be heard. Knowing Inagawa's tastes, he must've hired the finest management, catering staff, and orchestra for tonight. Alexander got out of his car and strode towards the mansion's entrance. His face carried a small smirk as excitement coursed through his veins. He was unarmed in a dangerous and unfamiliar situation. A lot could go wrong yet the risk of it all was pumping adrenaline through him. Deep down he was secretly praying for something to go wrong and land him in a life-threatening situation. A situation where he could gamble his life and win. There was one more security check and a walk-through scanner at the doorway. As expected, everything cleared, and just like that the infamous Mr. Clean was in.
The hallway was lavish, lit by a glamorous chandelier in the middle. The once distant sounds of laughter, chatter, and music were overbearing now. It was a big event. Alexander wasn't the one to mingle with the high class and he never realized there could be so many of them in one place. A part of him just wanted to blow the entire place up but he knew better than to give into his urges. He was created by a member of the staff and offered a welcome drink; a champagne flute with the finest that money could buy. For a minute the glamour and high society antics around him, made him dissociate. He looked the part, walked the part, and acted the part but mentally he was lost. He was definitely out of his comfort zone. "You need to find Inagawa, now that we're in." The voice through his earpiece broke the momentary phasing out he was experiencing. "Right," he whispered and took a few sips of the drink in his hand, and began to walk around. Instinctively he aimed for the open bar at the back of the hall, a good place to do some reconnaissance without looking suspicious. He might even be able to ask the bartender the whereabouts of the host. Distractions were everywhere, from the salaciously dressed women of the city's upper class to the dangerous men with crooked money. Both spectrums graced this event.
Alexander drove down the driveway slowly, trying to get a good look at the premises and the security situation. The front gardens were being patrolled by a team with guard dogs and it seemed that if anything went wrong, capture was inevitable. "You were right ARIS, security is beefed up. Log in everything you see."
"Affirmative," a monotone voice rang through the device in his ear.
At the large parking, the distant sounds of guests chattering and laughing with the backdrop of live music could be heard. Knowing Inagawa's tastes, he must've hired the finest management, catering staff, and orchestra for tonight. Alexander got out of his car and strode towards the mansion's entrance. His face carried a small smirk as excitement coursed through his veins. He was unarmed in a dangerous and unfamiliar situation. A lot could go wrong yet the risk of it all was pumping adrenaline through him. Deep down he was secretly praying for something to go wrong and land him in a life-threatening situation. A situation where he could gamble his life and win. There was one more security check and a walk-through scanner at the doorway. As expected, everything cleared, and just like that the infamous Mr. Clean was in.
The hallway was lavish, lit by a glamorous chandelier in the middle. The once distant sounds of laughter, chatter, and music were overbearing now. It was a big event. Alexander wasn't the one to mingle with the high class and he never realized there could be so many of them in one place. A part of him just wanted to blow the entire place up but he knew better than to give into his urges. He was created by a member of the staff and offered a welcome drink; a champagne flute with the finest that money could buy. For a minute the glamour and high society antics around him, made him dissociate. He looked the part, walked the part, and acted the part but mentally he was lost. He was definitely out of his comfort zone. "You need to find Inagawa, now that we're in." The voice through his earpiece broke the momentary phasing out he was experiencing. "Right," he whispered and took a few sips of the drink in his hand, and began to walk around. Instinctively he aimed for the open bar at the back of the hall, a good place to do some reconnaissance without looking suspicious. He might even be able to ask the bartender the whereabouts of the host. Distractions were everywhere, from the salaciously dressed women of the city's upper class to the dangerous men with crooked money. Both spectrums graced this event.
• • • • • • •
Last edited:
LunaEssence
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2024
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VALENTINA MERCER
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VALENTINA MERCER
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CLASSIFED INTELLIGENCE BRIEFING Assigned Agent: Viper Mission Alias: Isobel Laurent - Art Dealer & Cultural Ambassador Nationality: French Backstory: Based in Paris, works with private collectors and high-profile museums. Known for sourcing rare art pieces and discreetly handling “sensitive acquisitions.” 
MISSION OBJECTIVE Primary Target: Goro Inagawa Objective: Recover the black book containing names, aliases, and financial records of the Obsidian Circle’s key members. The book is rumored to be on Inagawa’s person or locked within his private study. Secondary Objectives: Gather intelligence on Inagawa’s associates, including political and financial ties that could be exploited for future operations. TARGET PROFILE
Name: Goro Inagawa
Age: 49 Height: 5 ft 9 in Spouse: Mei Inagawa 
Children: Toru Inagawa Occupation: Chairperson & Founder – Inagawa Holdings (Parent company of multiple hedge funds and legal firms) Criminal Associations: Suspected affiliations with the Yakuza, high-net-worth arms dealers, and political financiers. Possible ties to the Obsidian Circle. Psychological Profile: Intelligent, ruthless, known for his pragmatism and calculated risk-taking. Enjoys games of power and manipulation. Collects art, women, and enemies. Additional Notes: • Highly private. Public appearances are rare outside of curated events. • Rumored to favor the company of mistresses over his own wife. Weakness? Leverage? • Recent security concerns suggest increasing paranoia—his study is now locked behind biometric access. MISSION SITE Event: Annual Spring Gala – Inagawa Country Estate Location: Sector 2 Date & Time: April 15, 2063 – 22:00 SECURITY OVERVIEW • High security. • Guests require official invitation for entry. • Metal detectors at the entrance. No visible weapons allowed. • Private guards on patrol—some ex-military, others hired muscle. • Guard dogs patrolling the estate grounds. • Surveillance includes motion detectors, biometric locks, and facial recognition in key areas. • Inagawa’s private study (location of the black book) is only accessible via his biometrics. ESCAPE ROUTES: • Front Entrance (Preferred, low risk). • Riverbank (20ft drop, high risk, unknown currents). • Secondary service exit (Limited access, may be locked). POTENTIAL OBSTACLES: • Unavailable estate floor plans make navigation unpredictable. • Inagawa rivals may be present • Limited access points mean improvisation will be necessary. INVITATION:
NOTES FROM COMMAND: • Do not engage unless necessary. This is a retrieval mission, not a cleanup operation. • If compromised, eliminate loose ends. • We have reason to believe the Obsidian Circle is already aware of infiltration attempts. Expect resistance. END BRIEFING |
April 15, 2063 - Inagawa Estate - 21:50:04
A driverless luxury BMW rolled up the stone-paved driveway, its sleek black exterior barely making a sound. Ahead of it, a metallic grey Audi was just pulling away from security clearance, disappearing into the lavish entrance. Valentina watched through tinted windows, dark lashes lowering slightly. Another guest. No one important.
At least, not yet.
The moment the car came to a gentle halt, the gullwing door lifted, allowing her to step out into the warm glow of wealth and excess. The air carried the scent of expensive perfume, fine whiskey, and the faintest hint of something artificial—a programmed ambiance, designed to manipulate the senses.
She exhaled slowly, adjusting the silk of her black evening gown as the lights from the floating lanterns played against the delicate fabric. The dress was designed to draw the eye just long enough to be a distraction, the high slit revealing just enough leg to spark interest, but not suspicion.
Her blonde waves cascaded over her bare shoulders, framing a face that no longer belonged to her. Emerald-green eyes flicked toward the glowing mansion entrance, scanning the security detail with the kind of casual disinterest only the rich could afford to show.
“Well that’s a bit excessive,” Wren, a smooth, semi-robotic voice, sounded in her ear.
“The dress or the event?” Valentina questioned with a slight smirk.
“Both.” The emerald green contacts also served as Wren’s eyes, able to see through Valentina’s perspective. A piece of tech that came a long way in the past couple of years.
Even though she was 99.9% sure no one here would recognize her, that 0.1% was the difference between survival and exposure. Because the name Leon Mercer still carried whispers. Her father had been both revered and despised in circles like these. He was a brilliant artist, a master of deception, and a man who didn’t just sell art. He also sold secrets. His clients? It was this crowd. The untouchable elite. Politicians, crime lords, arms dealers. Men who spoke in riddles over expensive scotch, who bought silence as easily as they bought masterpieces.And yet, even he had made the wrong deal. Even he had bled.
So Valentina never took risks, not with her identity, not in places like this. Never with any details that dealt with her past. For tonight, she wasn’t Valentina Mercer. She was the infamous, calculated, stealthy, Viper.
Inside her ear, a voice hummed to life again. “Your car was exactly 4.3 seconds behind the Audi. Did you plan that, Viper?”
Valentina smirked, tilting her head slightly as she whispered, “What Audi?”
“Ah. Of course. My mistake.” Her AI handler, Wren, was built to be efficient, strategic, and an occasional pain in her ass. A black-market system, unlike the basic intelligence models most agents used. Wren didn’t just analyze situations, he read between the lines.
At the next checkpoint, security waved a handheld scanner over her, stopping briefly at her thigh. Valentina smiled, a slow, effortless curve of her lips. “Something wrong?”
The guard, a man who was likely paid well enough to keep his hands to himself, cleared his throat and looked away. Instead, he took her exclusive invitation, scanning that next for a second clearance. “Not at all, Miss...?”
“Isobel Laurent.” The alias slid from her lips with the kind of ease that came with practice, detachment, and absolute conviction. The scanner beeped once, flashing green.
Clear.
They wouldn’t find the razor-thin garrote wire sewn beneath the lining of her gown. Or the compact glass blade nestled against her inner thigh.
Amateurs.
As security waved her through, Wren’s voice returned in her ear, laced with dry amusement. “That was cute. Almost made me nervous.”
“You don’t have nerves, Wren.”
“You’re right. But I enjoy pretending.”
A server drifted past, offering a tray of champagne in crystal flutes. Valentina took one, if only to blend in, letting the cold glass rest against her fingertips. Inside, the gala was indulgence incarnate. Chandeliers dripped from high ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow over a sea of billionaires, politicians, and criminals, all draped in couture and false pretenses. The architecture was a perfect marriage of classical grandeur and futuristic ambition. Velvet-draped walls lined with some holographic art displays, digital encryptions layered beneath traditional oil paintings, and also some traditional frescos.
Valentina moved like liquid silver, her gaze sharp beneath the mask of playful intrigue. “I need eyes on Goro Inagawa.”
“Working on it. But may I just point out the rather enthusiastic gentleman currently admiring you from across the room?” She took a slow sip of champagne, allowing her gaze to flicker briefly across the crowd. A politician. Mid-fifties. Wedding ring, but that never stopped them.
“Anything interesting about him?” she murmured.
“Aside from his taste in younger women? No.” She smiled against the rim of her glass, placing herself near a cluster of guests engaged in conversation. She was not here to be seen, but she was here to listen. A whisper of conversation drifted toward her.
”—Inagawa’s been upstairs all night—”
”—his study is locked down tighter than a vault—”
”—some kind of biometric security—”
Valentina tilted her head slightly, the strands of her blonde wig catching the low light. Wren exhaled through the earpiece. “See, I told you the intel was correct. His study is exactly where the client predicted.”
“Biometric lock. Guess that checks out.”
“Mhm. This’ll be fun.” Her gaze flicked toward the second-floor balcony, where a set of ornate double doors stood behind a red rope. Security posted at the stairs, watching, waiting. Ready.
“You think he’s carrying the list?”
“The client’s intel suggests he keeps it close.”
“Then I need to get closer.”
She drained the last of her champagne and placed the empty glass on a passing tray. Valentina needed to seem busy and social, however. So, she gravitated toward the open bar. The air inside the estate seemed to get heavier with perfume, ambition, and deception, all wrapped neatly in the shimmering glow of wealth. Conversations blended together—the clinking of glasses and hushed exchanges. Valentina moved through the crowd with graceful detachment, letting her gaze flick lazily across the room. Not lingering, never staring. Just simply observing.
As she neared the open bar, she made note of the first man she saw there. Grey suit. Three-piece. Tailored to flatter. Confident posture, but not in an attention-seeking way. He wasn’t preening like the others.
Interesting.
Valentina’s eyes didn’t stay on him, at least not long enough to be noticed. Just enough for her subconscious to tuck away the necessary details. She slid into place at the bar, a polite distance from him, yet close enough to be aware. The bartender, a well-groomed man with sharp features and an artificial smile, turned to her immediately.
“What can I get for you, Miss?”
Valentina didn’t hesitate. She was not drinking for herself tonight. Isobel Laurent had a reputation to uphold. “A glass of Yamazaki 18, neat.”
The bartender raised a brow, clearly impressed. Most women who passed through here went for wine or champagne, something light, delicate. Whiskey, especially one as rich as Yamazaki 18, was a statement.
Valentina gave him a slow smile. “Of course, Miss.” He turned to prepare her drink.
Her attention drifted away just as smoothly as it had arrived, returning to the task at hand. But then, she heard the rustle of an expensive silk gown, followed by the soft, melodic voice of a woman who carried herself like she owned the room.
“How refreshing.”
Valentina turned her head just slightly, just enough to acknowledge the woman now standing beside her, poised yet effortlessly commanding.
Mei Inagawa. Goro Inagawa’s wife.
The woman was a striking beauty despite her age, somewhere in her early forties, though she wore time like an afterthought. Smooth porcelain skin, dark almond eyes lined with subtle gold. Her hair was styled into an elegant updo, adorned with delicate jade hairpins. Her dress was a deep sapphire blue and it clung to her slender figure with effortless grace. Every inch of her spoke of old money, refinement, and quiet power.
“Wow,” Wren spoke through the earpiece. “She’s a killer.” Valentina ignored it.
She regarded Valentina with an appraising tilt of her head, dark eyes flicking briefly to the glass of whiskey the bartender had just placed in front of her. “Most women here would never touch something so bold,” Mei mused.
Valentina let a small, knowing smile tug at her lips as she lifted the glass with deliberate elegance. “Most women here are too concerned with appearances.” She took a slow sip, letting the smoky richness of the whiskey coat her tongue. It wasn’t her drink of choice, but she barely reacted because Isobel Laurent wouldn’t.
Mei’s lips curled slightly, approving. “I take it you are not like most women, then?”
Valentina gave a silk-smooth shrug, her expression one of pleasant mystery. “Not if I can help it.”
The older woman’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer as if she assessing, considering. And then, she smiled, slow and deliberate, like a cat deciding whether or not to toy with its prey. “Tell me, Miss...?”
“Isobel Laurent.”
Mei hummed, as if tasting the name on her tongue. “French?”
“By heritage.”
Mei nodded, shifting slightly as if already losing interest. But Valentina knew better. This was a test. A dance of words, a measure of whether she was worth remembering. She decided to impress her.
“夜が素敵ですね,” Yoru ga sutekidesune? - The night is beautiful, isn’t it? Valentina said smoothly, her voice carrying the grace of a native speaker.
“Show off,” Wren threw in. Again, Valentina ignored the voice in her ear.
Mei’s brows lifted, the first true sign of surprise breaking through her polished exterior. A beat. Then, the smallest hint of a smile. “日本語が話せますか？”Nihongo ga hanasemasu ka? - Do you speak Japanese?
Valentina took another sip of whiskey before answering.“流暢ではありませんが、十分です。” Ryūchōde wa arimasenga, jūbundesu. - Not fluently, but well enough.
“Impressive,” Mei admitted. That earned her a true, pleased laugh. Soft, refined, but genuine. “I like a woman who bothers to understand the world beyond herself.”
Valentina simply smiled, demure yet unreadable. Mei reached for a glass of her own, this one filled with red wine so dark it looked like ink. She swirled it lightly before speaking again. “My husband will be arriving soon. I'm sure he'll be pleased to meet you too”
The words were casual, but the implication was anything but. Valentina kept her expression composed, even as her mind clicked into place. Goro Inagawa. The man with the list.
She gave a soft nod, swirling the golden liquid in her own glass. “I look forward to meeting him.”
OP
OP
Saint Grime
Grim
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2015
- Location
- No man's land
• • • • • • •
The open bar was stacked generously with variety, from cheap ones to the most expensive money could buy. Goro Inagawa wanted his guests' drinking needs well catered to and it showed. Alexander strode towards the bar, his eyes on an empty stool at one end of the rich dark wooden countertop. The dark wood was definitely expensive, probably African Blackwood or something similar. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat, placing the crystal flute glass on the counter. His eyes roamed around, scanning the venue. The guests were still arriving as the night was young and the bar was almost empty; at least for now. Goro Inagawa was nowhere to be found and given his reputation, he shouldn't have been hard to spot. Alexander's eyes drifted to the large marble staircase to his left that led up to the second-floor balcony. The main entrance to the second floor was behind large wooden double doors, sealed with a red rope. There was security on either side and even more security along the staircase. Men and women dressed in black cheap suits, sticking out like a sore thumb. It was obvious that Goro was yet to grace the event with his presence. "What can I get you to start the night, sir?" His chain of thought was broken by the courteous ask of the bartender. "This was so metallic and acidic..." Alexander sighed and slid the crystal flute of champagne that he had barely taken a sip from towards the bartender. "Rum; overproof; neat... Heavy pour." The bartender chuckled and took the crystal flute, eyes Alexander with a curious smile. "Danger with dignity. I like your style, mister...?"
"West. Kevin West."
Alexander's reply came with a touch of poshness as he tried his best to play the part of the venture capitalist he was tonight. The alcohol was not for indulgence but was fuel for his plan to come. The bartender placed a napkin on the counter and then a lowball glass half-filled with the amber-colored liquid. "Here you go, sir. Lightly aged, overproof and with a heavy pour, just as you requested." The order was met with a nod and to keep up appearances, Alexander took a sip, trying hard to show he was used to the strong taste and burn of the hard alcohol.
"Thank you. I was wondering... I haven't been able to catch the host of the evening... One can't just waltz in here and not offer his regards to the man of the evening right?"
"Mr. Inagawa is still upstairs but rumour has it he'll be coming down anytime soon. He's probably just rehearsing some fancy moves with this new katana he managed to acquire. Some old famous one. Knowing him, I bet he has plans to show off for the ladies. Poor Mrs. Inagawa, keeping up with his antics." The bartender chuckled and left Alexander with his drink to serve another woman who had arrived at the bar.
At first, he didn't pay any heed to her but when she was chatting up Mei Inagawa, it caught his eye. "ARIS, who's the blonde getting a little too chatty with Misus?" Alexander's brown hues focused on the lady in black with a gaze that was detail-absorbing but not too suspicious. She was attractive and alluring dressed like all the other women tonight but there was something about her that bothered Alexander. He couldn't pinpoint it. Was it that she seemed to be drinking whiskey or was it that she seemed a little too conversant with Mei; who probably wouldn't prefer talking to women her husband would try to seduce.
"Isobel Laurent. French art dealer and cultural ambassador. She's quite well-known in the art community it seems. Do you want me to do a thorough background on her?"
"No, let it be. I just had an odd feeling. The art dealer explains it. Pretentious snobbish folk. Probably trying to swindle in some commission work here too. We have other more important things to do. I can't barge in through the front entrance of the second floor. I bet there is a back entrance. An emergency stairwell."
Suddenly the chatter and whispers of the guests around grew louder and harmonized as if something had caught their attention. Alexander turned his head to the direction everyone was looking at and it was at the second-floor balcony. Goro Inagawa had entered the scene and the man stood out with the deep burgundy suit he had on, a two-piece with a crisp white shirt and no tie, giving that hint of casualness that showed that he owned the place. Behind him was a member of the staff holding a large velvet cushion that had a rather regal-looking katana resting on top of it. From this distance, it was hard to make out the intricate details on the black cover of the sheathed blade. Just that there were hints of gold on the cover and the hilt. "That sword is where we get our fingerprints, ARIS. All we need to do is force it back behind the doors of the second floor." Since he had arrived, Alexander was worried about how to lift Goro's prints. Kevin West wasn't particularly a well-known venture capitalist. Getting an audience with Goro would require time and the longer the party dragged on, the harder it would be for Alexander to complete his mission.
While everyone watched Goro make his entrance, Alexander slipped to the right of the bar, to a corridor leading to the luxurious pool area at the back of the mansion. "If there is an emergency stairwell it should be facing the pool area." ARIS's voice spoke in his ear. He had his glass of fire fuel with him, as he casually walked down the corridor, passing the men's room that was at the end until he made his way out the back. The doors to the pool area were open and the night's cool air hit him refreshingly. The number of guests lingering by the poolside balcony to admire the river's view spoke about how extensive the guest list was. Even this area was fairly crowded with its fair share of staff, guards guests. The people here seemed more into enjoying the view than the socializing that took place inside. Looking around, the emergency stairwell wasn't hard to spot. There was a big green sign over a small single door that showed where it was and only a single guard was posted there. This was it. This was his way to the second floor.
The plan was simple. He'd set a fire in the men's room he had just passed causing panic and the guard at the emergency stairwell to come check it out since he was the closest. The panic would force Goro to send the katana back to its holding place whilst the situation downstairs would be under resolution. Meanwhile, Alexander would sneak up the emergency stairwell, find the sword, lift off the prints and access the study. A smooth plan. The pyromaniac inside him was suddenly excited.
"Time to cause some panic," Alexander whispered.
"Isn't it a bit too soon?"
"Absolutely not. The longer we wait, the more the crowd grows and the more my tolerance for these people thins out."
He moved slowly, with the gait of someone slightly tipsy so the full glass in his hand wouldn't arouse suspicion as he entered the men's room. Lucky for him, it was completely empty as the event had just started. People were still starting to drink. Just to be sure, Alexander checked each bathroom stall door and then located the smoke detector that was in the centre of the dimly lit, three-stall men's room. He then locked the door from the inside and got to work. Time was of the essence here. Nerves were high and he couldn't keep the room to himself for long. He placed the glass of the flammable rum right under the door of the middle stall and then took out the spare black pocket square in his side pocket laced with flammable chemicals and placed it in the glass in a way that half of it was outside and half in the alcohol. The moment this contraption caught fire, it would flame up like a Molotov cocktail and the stall door would catch fire triggering the alarms. All he needed now was a timer and that is where the cigarettes came in. He took one out, and lit it up, taking the smallest drag so as to not cause much smoke and then after breaking the filter, he placed the burning filterless cigarette against a corner of the pocket square that was outside the glass and on the floor. The still air of the bathroom would cause it to burn slowly, creating a well-needed fuse for his contraption.
"You have 2 minutes Mr. Clean."
Just as Alexander unlocked the door and carefully slipped out, he came face to face with a man wanting to go in. He blocked the man's way and gave him a sheepish expression "Ummm you might not wanna go in there, buddy... I had shrimp cocktail earlier in the evening and that doesn't mix well with vodka..." He was met with a disgusted look from the man who turned around, not wanting to take the risk.
"That was close. Nice little improv."
With that, he was back out again in the pool area, standing across the emergency stairway's door, pretending to admire the view of the river while occasionally looking at his watch. A slight nervous habit, even though he had ARIS monitoring the time for him. Two minutes passed, nothing happened. Three minutes and still nothing. Alexander was a little nervous now and then suddenly he saw the guard touch his left ear, and Alexander knew something was up. The guard's expression changed from bored to a suddenly alerted and panicked one as he ran in the direction of the men's room back in the corridor. Contrary to what Alexander expected, the fire alarms were silent. A clever move not the cause panic amongst the guest. The rest of the security in the pool area also jogged towards the cause of the problem, catching the suspicious looks of a few observant guests. And just like that, the pool area was cleared of guards and Alexander slipped past the unattended emergency stairwell door, making his way up the second floor.
"We don't have much time. They'll be scrolling through the cameras once the Inagawa's are secured and they'll be looking for you."
• • • • • • •
LunaEssence
Moon
- Joined
- Sep 25, 2024
The soft swirl of red wine in Mei Inagawa's glass marked the end of their conversation. With one final approving smile and a parting nod, the elegant woman excused herself, melting back into the ocean of silk gowns and expensive cologne. Valentina turned slightly, lifting her whiskey once more to her lips just in time to feel the current in the room shift. A murmur of breathless anticipation moved like a tide across the gala floor, followed by a subtle tilt of heads and redirecting of gazes toward the grand staircase.
And there he was.
Goro Inagawa.
The man of the hour stood at the top of the marble stairs, draped in a deep burgundy suit, his crisp white shirt open at the collar in a casual defiance of the formality swirling around him. He didn't need to impress them. He was the kind of man who owned the room before he ever stepped inside it.
Behind him, a staff member followed with a velvet cushion balanced carefully in their arms. Resting atop it, in regal stillness, was the katana. The sheathed blade glimmered even from this distance—black lacquered wood with hints of gold, the hilt wrapped in deep charcoal silk. Ornate. Rare. Dangerous.
Valentina's gaze followed it carefully.
"Is that...?"
"Confirmed," Wren said in her ear before she could finish the thought. "Katana is likely one of the biometric triggers for the study. Retinal scan secondary. Sword's the key. Or at least a very elegant lockpick."
"Of course he'd flaunt it around like a prop at a magic show."
"You're just jealous. That sword has better PR than you."
She allowed herself the faintest smile before setting the whiskey down. She was just about to take a step forward when she noticed the man standing next to her a few minutes ago was no longer there. Odd. Now, would someone not stick around to see the man of the hour? The reason everyone was there? It struck Valentina as strange because Goro was the individual everyone was waiting for. Something did not sit right with Valentina there, but she ignored the feeling for now and stepped gracefully into the current of bodies now converging near the stairs. Not too fast. Not too direct. Just enough to let herself get caught in the celebratory eddy that naturally formed around powerful men.
Goro descended the staircase slowly, shaking hands and nodding with faux humility as guests approached. He radiated wealth and arrogance—the kind of man who believed subtlety was for the poor.
And he was alone. No Mei. Perfect. Not surprising, but still perfect. Goro's rumored infidelity and risque behavior likely made Mei distant. Even in public events. Valentina timed it carefully, waiting until he turned from one eager conversation and into open space. That's when she stepped into his path, letting their eyes meet with a carefully measured gaze. Not adoration, not seduction. That was too easy and a bit of a try-hard move. Instead, she looked with curiosity. A curiosity powerful men always chased.
"Mr. Inagawa."
Goro stopped. His dark eyes scanned her from head to toe with all the subtlety of a man used to taking what he wanted. "And who might you be?" he asked, voice rich with amusement.
"Isobel Laurent," she said smoothly, offering her hand, palm down. "Cultural ambassador. We've spoken before—through your people."
He took her hand without hesitation, bringing it to his lips with just enough pressure to hint at impropriety. "Ah, the French art dealer," he mused. "They said you were striking. But they didn't do you justice."
"Careful, Goro," Wren whispered. "He's on brand tonight."
Valentina smiled politely, her green eyes gleaming. Was Goro that easy? "And they say the same of you. Though I wasn't told you were such a showman." She gestured slightly to the katana.
Goro chuckled. "A man has to have hobbies. This one's a family heirloom. I thought it might enjoy the party."
There. As he leaned closer, hand resting lightly at the small of her back, encouraging her closer towards the weapon, his other hand casually touched the katana's sheath—fingers lingering. She took note of it immediately. Then, in a single practiced motion, she slid her own hand beneath his—just lightly enough to make it look like contact, like chemistry. He smiled wider, thinking nothing of it. But beneath the glove on her right palm, a paper-thin sensor patch activated, syncing with the light brush of his fingertips and capturing a perfect fingerprint.
"Print acquired," Wren confirmed.
She withdrew gracefully, pretending to adjust a ring while offering a bashful smile. "Your collection is impressive. But you're a busy man right now, perhaps we'll speak again before the night is done."
"I'll hold you to that," he said, before being ushered away by another eager guest. As Goro turned to attend the other guests, Valentina exhaled slowly through her nose and turned her attention back toward the main hall...only to notice something had shifted. Subtle, but there. Security at the edge of the ballroom moved with just enough urgency to catch her trained eye. One of the staff whispered something into a cuff mic. Another disappeared toward the rear corridor.
"Wren."
"Already on it. A silent fire alarm just went off near the men's lounge. Internal response only. No public announcement."
Her brow lifted slightly. "Coincidence?"
"Doubt it. Someone lit a fuse." Her eyes scanned the room again. Guests still laughed and chatted over champagne and smoked oysters. But the energy was tightening like a violin string. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught it, a familiar grey suit slipping through a side corridor toward the pool area.
She didn't know him. But something about his movements…
Calculated. Relaxed. Too relaxed, actually.
"Wren," Valentina said again.
"Already flagged. No ID match yet. But he's not drunk, and he's not here for the drinks." Valentina turned her body slightly toward the bar, using the reflective surface of a silver tray to watch one of the guards begin to follow after the man. Too curious. Too fast. A small inconvenience. But one she could fix.
She moved without hesitation, intercepting the guard just as he began to break away from his station. Her expression was all honey and velvet, her voice low and amused. "Excuse me," she purred. "Would you mind telling me if this painting over here is one of Mr. Inagawa's?"
The man hesitated. "Ma'am, I—"
She placed a hand gently on his arm, eyes wide with just enough faux innocence to stall him. "Please? I don't want to embarrass myself by complimenting a forgery." He flushed slightly, caught off-guard, and glanced back toward the corridor. Just long enough. "Wren?" she murmured.
"Guard diverted. Your mystery man is in the clear—for now." Valentina's smile returned, slow and satisfied.
The moment passed in a breath.
The guard she'd stopped gave her a polite nod, confirming it was one of Goro's possessions, and then excused himself, clearly uneasy at having been delayed. He turned away, resuming his slow patrol, but now off-course, his attention shifted just enough to allow the corridor behind him to be momentarily unwatched. Valentina didn't waste it. She moved, silent and fluid, blending into the stream of guests migrating toward the bar and then away again, laughter and idle chatter forming a convenient veil and made her seem less suspicious.
"Wren, give me an update."
"Fire contained. No visual spread. Just smoke from the source. Suppression system kicked in. No guest evacuation. But they're moving the katana."
Valentina's brow arched slightly as she turned her head to where she had seen the katana last. It was nowhere in sight, but Goro was still tending to his guests. Probably to keep them even more distracted, "Back to the study?"
"Escorted up the main stairwell under security detail. Two men and a staff member. It's less than ideal if you were thinking of a smash-and-grab."
"I wasn't." She was already rounding the edge of the grand staircase, impossibly high heels clicking softly across the marble. She didn't ascend, not yet. Security still lined the front, even if thinned slightly. "Any updates on our mystery man?" Was he a rival? Enemy? She briefly tried to remember his visage, but she didn't pay much attention to his details. Valentina was foolish to brush him off like that.
"No current visuals. He slipped toward the pool area. External cam feed's obstructed. Either he knew the blind spots...or got lucky. Maybe both." She wondered if he was the one who started the fire. Her gaze flicked to the staircase once more. The velvet rope across the main stairs was still in place. Security hadn't left, just shifted and became more alert now.
The front was a no-go. But—
"Wren. Staff routes. Is the east hallway still an option?"
There was a pause. Then: "Yup. Two doors past the wine cellar. The stairwell is for kitchen staff and emergency access. Leads to the secondary hall on the second floor. No cameras. That makes things more fun. I won't have any eyes up there."
A small smile touched her lips. "Now we're talking." She slipped deeper into the eastern corridor, keeping close to the shadows cast by large wall art and opulent light fixtures. The music and laughter dulled behind her, replaced by the muffled sound of clinking glasses and staff footsteps. But just before the sound faded completely, she stopped.
Her gaze snagged, almost involuntarily, on a large canvas mounted above a decorative alcove. It hadn't registered before, but now she saw it clearly. Crimson, charcoal, and muted gold swept in a chaotic dance of brushstrokes, forming a fractured silhouette within negative space. It was aggressive. Raw. Beautiful. She knew it. Her breath caught before she could stop it.
Leon Mercer.
Her father's signature was carved subtly into the bottom corner, half-blended, like he knew it would hang here someday. The brushwork was unmistakable. A piece from his darker period when his clients demanded secrecy, not beauty. This painting was part of a collection never meant for gallery walls. This one had been paid for in blood. A flicker of memory surged. His hands, stained with paint and gunmetal oil. A half-finished bottle of wine on the windowsill. The sound of jazz and sirens leaking in from the streets below. And the smell of turpentine when he kissed the top of her head.
Valentina's heart tightened. It was only for a second. But a crack split through her carefully sculpted facade, slicing deeper than she expected.
"Viper," Wren's semi-robotic tone rang in her ear. She blinked hard. Right. Now was not the time. She needed to remain focused. And just like that the mask returned. She turned her back on the painting without another glance, and disappeared into the hallway. The hallway here was narrower, cooler. Less polished for guests, more utilitarian in its elegance. Her heels echoed a little louder against the polished black stone, but she moved with careful steps, pausing only as she passed a staff member exiting the kitchen.
"Sorry, ma'am, guests aren't allowed back—"
She flashed him a look that could cut diamonds. "I was told the wine cellar is this way. I assume the Inagawas don't enjoy disappointing their high-tier guests?" The poor man blinked, nodded mutely, and moved along without protest. Then she saw the door. Right where Wren said. Simple, unmarked, with a vertical handle and a lock she could have cracked blindfolded. But it gave under her hand, already ajar, likely used minutes ago by the very men escorting the katana.
She slipped inside. The narrow stairwell was lit only by vertical strips of low amber LEDs along the walls. It coiled up toward a landing above, the stone steps worn down by decades of use. It smelled like polished concrete and wine-dust aged, but not abandoned. "Second floor landing opens across from Goro's private office. You'll need to cross a secondary corridor and move fast. Only one guard posted there now. The others are still responding to the fire. After that, you're on your own. Do your thing."
"Perfect."
Valentina ascended the stairs, her gown flowing behind her in quiet ribbons of silk, the compact blade at her thigh a comforting presence. At the top, she paused just long enough to adjust the sensor patch in her glove, now holding the fingerprint data ready to deploy. It beeped in satisfaction. Great. This was just one of the many doors. She cracked the door slightly and peered through the sliver. A long hallway stretched ahead. It was ornate, quiet, and empty save for one suited guard standing a few doors down, facing the opposite direction from her.
Across from her in the very long hall? A pair of massive, double oak doors, their handles carved with traditional motifs. The brass plate above them read simply: Study. And leaning carefully against the doorframe was the velvet cushion with the katana now resting quietly in its sheath once again.
"Home, sweet home", Valentina whispered.
"Ready when you are, Viper," Wren assured her.
And there he was.
Goro Inagawa.
The man of the hour stood at the top of the marble stairs, draped in a deep burgundy suit, his crisp white shirt open at the collar in a casual defiance of the formality swirling around him. He didn't need to impress them. He was the kind of man who owned the room before he ever stepped inside it.
Behind him, a staff member followed with a velvet cushion balanced carefully in their arms. Resting atop it, in regal stillness, was the katana. The sheathed blade glimmered even from this distance—black lacquered wood with hints of gold, the hilt wrapped in deep charcoal silk. Ornate. Rare. Dangerous.
Valentina's gaze followed it carefully.
"Is that...?"
"Confirmed," Wren said in her ear before she could finish the thought. "Katana is likely one of the biometric triggers for the study. Retinal scan secondary. Sword's the key. Or at least a very elegant lockpick."
"Of course he'd flaunt it around like a prop at a magic show."
"You're just jealous. That sword has better PR than you."
She allowed herself the faintest smile before setting the whiskey down. She was just about to take a step forward when she noticed the man standing next to her a few minutes ago was no longer there. Odd. Now, would someone not stick around to see the man of the hour? The reason everyone was there? It struck Valentina as strange because Goro was the individual everyone was waiting for. Something did not sit right with Valentina there, but she ignored the feeling for now and stepped gracefully into the current of bodies now converging near the stairs. Not too fast. Not too direct. Just enough to let herself get caught in the celebratory eddy that naturally formed around powerful men.
Goro descended the staircase slowly, shaking hands and nodding with faux humility as guests approached. He radiated wealth and arrogance—the kind of man who believed subtlety was for the poor.
And he was alone. No Mei. Perfect. Not surprising, but still perfect. Goro's rumored infidelity and risque behavior likely made Mei distant. Even in public events. Valentina timed it carefully, waiting until he turned from one eager conversation and into open space. That's when she stepped into his path, letting their eyes meet with a carefully measured gaze. Not adoration, not seduction. That was too easy and a bit of a try-hard move. Instead, she looked with curiosity. A curiosity powerful men always chased.
"Mr. Inagawa."
Goro stopped. His dark eyes scanned her from head to toe with all the subtlety of a man used to taking what he wanted. "And who might you be?" he asked, voice rich with amusement.
"Isobel Laurent," she said smoothly, offering her hand, palm down. "Cultural ambassador. We've spoken before—through your people."
He took her hand without hesitation, bringing it to his lips with just enough pressure to hint at impropriety. "Ah, the French art dealer," he mused. "They said you were striking. But they didn't do you justice."
"Careful, Goro," Wren whispered. "He's on brand tonight."
Valentina smiled politely, her green eyes gleaming. Was Goro that easy? "And they say the same of you. Though I wasn't told you were such a showman." She gestured slightly to the katana.
Goro chuckled. "A man has to have hobbies. This one's a family heirloom. I thought it might enjoy the party."
There. As he leaned closer, hand resting lightly at the small of her back, encouraging her closer towards the weapon, his other hand casually touched the katana's sheath—fingers lingering. She took note of it immediately. Then, in a single practiced motion, she slid her own hand beneath his—just lightly enough to make it look like contact, like chemistry. He smiled wider, thinking nothing of it. But beneath the glove on her right palm, a paper-thin sensor patch activated, syncing with the light brush of his fingertips and capturing a perfect fingerprint.
"Print acquired," Wren confirmed.
She withdrew gracefully, pretending to adjust a ring while offering a bashful smile. "Your collection is impressive. But you're a busy man right now, perhaps we'll speak again before the night is done."
"I'll hold you to that," he said, before being ushered away by another eager guest. As Goro turned to attend the other guests, Valentina exhaled slowly through her nose and turned her attention back toward the main hall...only to notice something had shifted. Subtle, but there. Security at the edge of the ballroom moved with just enough urgency to catch her trained eye. One of the staff whispered something into a cuff mic. Another disappeared toward the rear corridor.
"Wren."
"Already on it. A silent fire alarm just went off near the men's lounge. Internal response only. No public announcement."
Her brow lifted slightly. "Coincidence?"
"Doubt it. Someone lit a fuse." Her eyes scanned the room again. Guests still laughed and chatted over champagne and smoked oysters. But the energy was tightening like a violin string. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught it, a familiar grey suit slipping through a side corridor toward the pool area.
She didn't know him. But something about his movements…
Calculated. Relaxed. Too relaxed, actually.
"Wren," Valentina said again.
"Already flagged. No ID match yet. But he's not drunk, and he's not here for the drinks." Valentina turned her body slightly toward the bar, using the reflective surface of a silver tray to watch one of the guards begin to follow after the man. Too curious. Too fast. A small inconvenience. But one she could fix.
She moved without hesitation, intercepting the guard just as he began to break away from his station. Her expression was all honey and velvet, her voice low and amused. "Excuse me," she purred. "Would you mind telling me if this painting over here is one of Mr. Inagawa's?"
The man hesitated. "Ma'am, I—"
She placed a hand gently on his arm, eyes wide with just enough faux innocence to stall him. "Please? I don't want to embarrass myself by complimenting a forgery." He flushed slightly, caught off-guard, and glanced back toward the corridor. Just long enough. "Wren?" she murmured.
"Guard diverted. Your mystery man is in the clear—for now." Valentina's smile returned, slow and satisfied.
The moment passed in a breath.
The guard she'd stopped gave her a polite nod, confirming it was one of Goro's possessions, and then excused himself, clearly uneasy at having been delayed. He turned away, resuming his slow patrol, but now off-course, his attention shifted just enough to allow the corridor behind him to be momentarily unwatched. Valentina didn't waste it. She moved, silent and fluid, blending into the stream of guests migrating toward the bar and then away again, laughter and idle chatter forming a convenient veil and made her seem less suspicious.
"Wren, give me an update."
"Fire contained. No visual spread. Just smoke from the source. Suppression system kicked in. No guest evacuation. But they're moving the katana."
Valentina's brow arched slightly as she turned her head to where she had seen the katana last. It was nowhere in sight, but Goro was still tending to his guests. Probably to keep them even more distracted, "Back to the study?"
"Escorted up the main stairwell under security detail. Two men and a staff member. It's less than ideal if you were thinking of a smash-and-grab."
"I wasn't." She was already rounding the edge of the grand staircase, impossibly high heels clicking softly across the marble. She didn't ascend, not yet. Security still lined the front, even if thinned slightly. "Any updates on our mystery man?" Was he a rival? Enemy? She briefly tried to remember his visage, but she didn't pay much attention to his details. Valentina was foolish to brush him off like that.
"No current visuals. He slipped toward the pool area. External cam feed's obstructed. Either he knew the blind spots...or got lucky. Maybe both." She wondered if he was the one who started the fire. Her gaze flicked to the staircase once more. The velvet rope across the main stairs was still in place. Security hadn't left, just shifted and became more alert now.
The front was a no-go. But—
"Wren. Staff routes. Is the east hallway still an option?"
There was a pause. Then: "Yup. Two doors past the wine cellar. The stairwell is for kitchen staff and emergency access. Leads to the secondary hall on the second floor. No cameras. That makes things more fun. I won't have any eyes up there."
A small smile touched her lips. "Now we're talking." She slipped deeper into the eastern corridor, keeping close to the shadows cast by large wall art and opulent light fixtures. The music and laughter dulled behind her, replaced by the muffled sound of clinking glasses and staff footsteps. But just before the sound faded completely, she stopped.
Her gaze snagged, almost involuntarily, on a large canvas mounted above a decorative alcove. It hadn't registered before, but now she saw it clearly. Crimson, charcoal, and muted gold swept in a chaotic dance of brushstrokes, forming a fractured silhouette within negative space. It was aggressive. Raw. Beautiful. She knew it. Her breath caught before she could stop it.
Leon Mercer.
Her father's signature was carved subtly into the bottom corner, half-blended, like he knew it would hang here someday. The brushwork was unmistakable. A piece from his darker period when his clients demanded secrecy, not beauty. This painting was part of a collection never meant for gallery walls. This one had been paid for in blood. A flicker of memory surged. His hands, stained with paint and gunmetal oil. A half-finished bottle of wine on the windowsill. The sound of jazz and sirens leaking in from the streets below. And the smell of turpentine when he kissed the top of her head.
Valentina's heart tightened. It was only for a second. But a crack split through her carefully sculpted facade, slicing deeper than she expected.
"Viper," Wren's semi-robotic tone rang in her ear. She blinked hard. Right. Now was not the time. She needed to remain focused. And just like that the mask returned. She turned her back on the painting without another glance, and disappeared into the hallway. The hallway here was narrower, cooler. Less polished for guests, more utilitarian in its elegance. Her heels echoed a little louder against the polished black stone, but she moved with careful steps, pausing only as she passed a staff member exiting the kitchen.
"Sorry, ma'am, guests aren't allowed back—"
She flashed him a look that could cut diamonds. "I was told the wine cellar is this way. I assume the Inagawas don't enjoy disappointing their high-tier guests?" The poor man blinked, nodded mutely, and moved along without protest. Then she saw the door. Right where Wren said. Simple, unmarked, with a vertical handle and a lock she could have cracked blindfolded. But it gave under her hand, already ajar, likely used minutes ago by the very men escorting the katana.
She slipped inside. The narrow stairwell was lit only by vertical strips of low amber LEDs along the walls. It coiled up toward a landing above, the stone steps worn down by decades of use. It smelled like polished concrete and wine-dust aged, but not abandoned. "Second floor landing opens across from Goro's private office. You'll need to cross a secondary corridor and move fast. Only one guard posted there now. The others are still responding to the fire. After that, you're on your own. Do your thing."
"Perfect."
Valentina ascended the stairs, her gown flowing behind her in quiet ribbons of silk, the compact blade at her thigh a comforting presence. At the top, she paused just long enough to adjust the sensor patch in her glove, now holding the fingerprint data ready to deploy. It beeped in satisfaction. Great. This was just one of the many doors. She cracked the door slightly and peered through the sliver. A long hallway stretched ahead. It was ornate, quiet, and empty save for one suited guard standing a few doors down, facing the opposite direction from her.
Across from her in the very long hall? A pair of massive, double oak doors, their handles carved with traditional motifs. The brass plate above them read simply: Study. And leaning carefully against the doorframe was the velvet cushion with the katana now resting quietly in its sheath once again.
"Home, sweet home", Valentina whispered.
"Ready when you are, Viper," Wren assured her.