[hider=Era- Ameno][youtube]E1IbK4Eq4qs[/youtube][/hider] [u]Hannibal[/u] Hannibal gave a bow to Laxaris, his arm pretending to take off a hat he didn't have on, and the other swooping underneath his core as he backed a few steps away from his seat. "Your wish is my command." he said, standing up, a wicked, toothy smile plastered to his wicked face. He turned and walked away, his finger deftly getting placed on the elevator's buttons as he did so, as it came up and opened, Hannibal hesitated for a moment. "Oh, and one last thing," he said, turning to look over his shoulder at Laxaris. His yellow and blue eyes and their slitted pupils dancing over the group of operatives and madmen. "Love the suit." And with that, Hannibal stepped inside the elevator, and seemed to shimmer out of the eye's detection one last time, his eyes being the last to disappear, looking over those in the room until the doors closed. --- Hannibal had returned to his safe-house in the sewers after his endeavor with Laxaris and the other operatives. He was hungry, and he didn't want to spend energy hunting. Not today, no. He had food stored anyways. If was a little too quiet when he entered. He sensed no presence though, but he felt uneasy. Things weren't as they were when he had woken up that morning. He lifted his nose and took a deep whiff of the air. He smelt human flesh, but he smelt something else. It wasn't old, but it had been within the past hour or so. He moved to his appliances, and opened them up. There it was. There was the issue. With the city on high alert, the NYPD had checked nearly everywhere where they hadn't before. He, luckily, wasn't home at the time of the area's discovery, but they now knew something that consumed human flesh did. He had moved from state to state over the past two years, so they most likely didn't know it was him, but regardless he couldn't stay here anymore. He had to run, to find a new place to hide away. He slammed the fridge door in a flurry of anger, causing the whole thing to shake from the force, and turned away. His disturbance alerted something. He heard faintly from a little ways away int he sewers someone say "What was that." His hissed to himself in frustration, an intruder in his territory that he couldn't do anything about. In his haste, a small leather object fell from his pants. He looked down at it. The wallet he had received from Laxaris' agent. He hadn't paid much mind to it yet, but it was odd. He had overheard other agents, they had received cash and an ID. He had only a picture of Wally Gator and a slip of paper that had been the address. Now that it was on the floor, and the picture of Wally gator had fallen out. There was writing on the back. Sharp cursive. Most likely written by the woman that wasn't there before. Written most likely in invisible ink, and activated by a substance in the sewer's air. It was genius, and excellent use of chemistry and psychology. Whomever wrote this had to have known that he wouldn't have returned to the sewers if he was under Laxaris. It was another address. Telling him to go to the UN, and signed by a man named Cyrus, promising protection, and other operatives. He wasn't stupid. But something didn't match up. Whoever this was had to have known he was here and chosen not to go after him. But he still wasn't sure. He would show up, and check it out, and find this... Cyrus person. If other operatives were there, maybe he'd stick around and see what was going on. See why they were there themselves. And if not, lunch would be nice. He was reminded of his time, as he could hear several men's footsteps heading in his direction. He needed to move. He shifted into camouflage, and grabbed the wallet, stuffing it into his coat's pocket. His guns were in a suitcase, which was inside a backpack. He'd have to assemble them later. He threw off his coat and threw on the backpack, and then put his coat on again to keep his camouflage up. He needed to move. --- [b]United Nations, New York City 11:02 A.M.[/b] The standoff had been quiet, no guns blazing, no action, simply several automatic military grade weapons trained on one woman. The men had already radioed in, requesting Cyrus' appearance, but so far they had been denied and told to keep the Operative under surveillance until Cyrus was available. When the second operative arrived on the scene no one knew about it, not yet. But it had drawn his attention at the Mexican standoff going on, on the bottom floor of the building. He personally didn't agree with this person's fashion sense, as they were supposed to be blending in or disappearing in his case. He was doing a better job than this one was. Hannibal smelt the air. Sweat, and some fear, coupled with the hormones and pheromones produced from a sexually mature female in their prime reproductive stage of life. He had smelt it rolling off of Citrine and Chesire, but not off of that... 47 thing. It had smelt of metal and polyester, and electricity. Behind the oil and machinery and electronics of the person surrounded by guns, he smelt a woman. He smelt no fear. He liked that, she had control of the situation, and she knew it. He couldn't tell who it was though. He couldn't see her face. The ever so slight wave of his skin and clothes adapting to the world around it would no doubt be lost to her, should she see it. But he was in no position to help her, and he had no gain to do so yet. But someone else knew better. "Guns down." Came a swift and commanding reply. Immediately the men lowered their weapons and formed a line on either side of Eidyia, and saluted. A man entered the building, walking past Hannibal. He was tall, and dark skinned. Of African American decent. He wore black clothing that was concealing and long. The only part of his body that was exposed was his head. He was bald, and had a black eyepatch going over his eye, where a scar was semi-obviously placed. He was intimidating, even Hannibal would give him that despite not being intimidated. The way he carried himself in a way that demanded respect and had an aura of 'no bullshit' rolling off of him like thunder. A from was etched into his face. "Eidyia," he said, looking her over. How did he know this operative? "Twenty three, orphan since birth, joined a gang, became an operative, been playing vigilante ever since. Teleporter with the ability to simply know things without being taught." he said, looking her over. "Hannibal. Born into a good home and schooled well in Japan. Lost everything to a tsunami. Mentally scared, became an operative and emotional capabilities dropped even farther. Reptilian and amphibian physiology with reflective camouflage and advanced remote adaptive abilities. Cannibal." he said. By this point Hannibal shifted into a regular human's line of sight. His size and terrifying appearance causing a sew of the soldiers to immediately grow nervous and shifty. He stared hard at the man for a moment. Looking him over for a few seconds. "Cyrus Locke." the man said. "You gave the woman I sent for you quite a scare." Hannibal made no sound, just continued to stare into Cyrus' eyes, trying to deduce how he had acquired a brief view of his history. "Operative Rook should be joining us soon. I sent someone after him. I assume you have information in regards to our little terrorist's plans. We will wait a little longer for Agent Rook to show before continuing. You will get your deal Hannibal." Hannibal looked at the man again. How had he know how he... It didn't matter. He would find out. Instead he tore his attention away from Cyrus to stare at Eidyia. He had briefly met this operative once, he recognized her scent and whatever it was the primates that surrounded him used to cover up their natural scent from each other's weak noses. He couldn't be fooled however. He could smell through them as easily as he could see through their transparent lies. "You smell familiar." He stated simply, standing about five or six feet away from Eidyia. "And I don't smell metal in your blood. Not like last time."