The last rays of the falling sun streams through the large windows of the villa's sizable sitting room. The orange light casts oddly shaped shadows around the room, the bizarre old gadgets and trinkets scattered tactfully here and there making the back wall look much like a shadow puppet back drop. The fireplace crackles softly as the fire burns low behind the short grate. Standing still in front of the grand window Alexi waves casually down at his brother's retreating back, soaking up the sunlight while he can. In his other hand is a glass half full of a rich dark wine which he swirls absentmindedly, almost as a reflex at this point. He's never been one for wine, but when his bother is over he makes due with a single glass so Mois isn't the only one drinking. With a sigh the sun finally falls completely out of sight and he raises a hand to the rope at the right of the window. With a long tug the thick red curtains cover the window, making it safe for his night dwelling slaves to care for the room now that it's no longer working in a hosting capacity.

Alexi makes his way over to the antique couch laid out before the dying fire and takes a seat. As he pulls up his legs to rest on the couch beside him so he reclined on his side a few servants shuffle in and begin tidying up the room. [i]'I can't believe my luck. This will be perfect. Mois has never let me down, and this time will be no exception'[/i] He chuckles lightly, earning a few odd looks from his newer acquisitions, bot those who have been working for him for a while simply motion that they should keep working. Alexi sets his glass on the old ornate oak coffee table and watches with a smile as it's quickly scooped up by one of the poshly dressed servants. [i]'I still can't believe some folk out there. I mean really, some of the things they make their slaves wear! That's nothing compared to those who make them run around in the buff, but still. . . .'[/i] With another sigh Alexi rolls on to his back, a faint smile on his lips as he stretches his arms out in front of him. “I can't wait.” He murmurs to himself, dropping his arms down to res on his chest. “I just can't.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I want two units on the roof, but make sure they aren't in gear so they don't make too much noise. And for god's sake, have them check twice this time for anything hanging loose. We lost two guys lat time because someone's cell clip wasn't fastened correctly.” Mois glares down a t a few men who make 'Yes mom' comments but decides it's too late in the game to really do anything about their disrespectful behavior. [i]'I only have one chance at this, so I gotta make do with what I got. I suppose I'm lucky. There are guys been on the force three times as long as me and not had a break like this, or anything close to it for that matter'[/i] Looking over his teams again the eldest brother of the Vandros family narrows his gaze and begins his calculations. Around him many men are strapping into close fitting armor and other gear while the two roof teams check and double check their holsters and weaponry.

This is the big night. They have a solid tip in the whereabouts of the mother load, the central figure to the rebellion. If they pull this off, each man involved, who survives at least, will reap the benefits for many years to come. [i]'But none more so than my brother I suppose. If he can pull of his plan, things will start actually looking up. I mean, the rebels can always get a new rebel leader, but. . . .'[/i] Shaking out of his musing Mois takes one last look around the room before doing his own double check of his gear and the like. Patting the case to his sniper rifle he whispers a silent apology that he can't take him with this time. Instead he straps on dual holsters and slides in a couple high powered dart guns. It's his job to get to the leader first and tranque him if at all possible. Everyone else will be using live rounds, but he has a goal of his own, and he will not allow himself to fail.