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AlphaZero
Dracula's not an Avenger? That lying fuck!
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2013
Dubai's Atlantis hotel was the fanciest joint the in overpriced city, situated on, and under, the city's artificial island.
The great ballroom was walled with massive glass windows, looking out into the underwater lagoon the many many different species of sea creature called home. At that moment, the observation room was populated by delegates from around the world, meeting at the hotel to discuss some kind of peace treaty or nucular arms talk, or something of the such. Mingling amid the politicians aids and personal assistants kept the press folks occupied.
Men and women in expensive looking suits snacked on finger food carried about on trays by red jacketed waiters.
Max blended in well with the catering staff, six feet tall, broad shouldered and dark hair cut short. He had paid one of the caterers to take the night off and snagged the man's uniform and forged ID to get him past the absurd levels of security that everyone was being subjected to. His own room was on one of the underwater levels, the various tools of his trade stashed safely away there.
He moved with casual grace through the crowd, glasses being taken and returned to his tray. Cool grey eyes surveyed the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the senator he was hear for. The hows and whys someone wanted the man dead wasn't really important to him, all that mattered was that someone was paying good money to see the man dead.
The great ballroom was walled with massive glass windows, looking out into the underwater lagoon the many many different species of sea creature called home. At that moment, the observation room was populated by delegates from around the world, meeting at the hotel to discuss some kind of peace treaty or nucular arms talk, or something of the such. Mingling amid the politicians aids and personal assistants kept the press folks occupied.
Men and women in expensive looking suits snacked on finger food carried about on trays by red jacketed waiters.
Max blended in well with the catering staff, six feet tall, broad shouldered and dark hair cut short. He had paid one of the caterers to take the night off and snagged the man's uniform and forged ID to get him past the absurd levels of security that everyone was being subjected to. His own room was on one of the underwater levels, the various tools of his trade stashed safely away there.
He moved with casual grace through the crowd, glasses being taken and returned to his tray. Cool grey eyes surveyed the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the senator he was hear for. The hows and whys someone wanted the man dead wasn't really important to him, all that mattered was that someone was paying good money to see the man dead.