[center][img]http://img.image-storage.com/3302171958/706770565e034.png[/img][/center]
[hr]
[h3][i]Prelude[/i][/h3]

"K- Katya!" Stepan loudly stammered as he threw the door open, sucking in great breaths of air as he stumbled into the decrepit apartment he had provided for her. Had she not known any better, Katya might have believed that he had actually run up the three flights of stairs. 

Still breathing heavily, the older man took a seat across from her, frowned, and reached for the bottle of vodka that stood on the table,"Katya, enough drinking. Things are finally happening! I've got a job for you, the Consortium wants-"

In a swift, well-practiced motion Katya moved the bottle out of his reach and raised it to her lips with a mischievous grin. Savoring the last bit of vodka that remained, she relished the warmth the liquid spread throughout her body. Slamming the empty bottle onto the table, she flashed a mischievous grin in the Captain's direction. [i]What was life after all, without some small measure of rebellion?[/i] 

[color=gold]"A job? What sort of job?"[/color]

"They didn't say. They just asked for someone capable."

[color=gold]"So? What does that have to do with me? I don't recall being employed by the Consortium..."[/color]

"Listen, girl, don't be difficult. I already told them we'd do it."

[color=gold]"I see,"[/color] Katya replied, forcing a smile to her lips. She had already grown tired of the old man bossing her around, [color=gold]"How much are they paying?"[/color]

"Enough...More than enough."

[color=gold]"More than enough?"[/color] Katya said, rising to her feet with a sudden grin, and reaching for the large canvas duffle bag that lay next to the table. Well-worn, army surplus, and stuffed to the brim. It held her costume and all the tools of her trade. [color=gold]"Ah well, that changes everything. Doesn't it?[/color]

The captain laughed, nodded, and handed her a business card. "Head to the Mad Monk, an old friend will be there to meet you. They call him the Tailor. Short, fat, with glasses...wearing a, ah...what are those called again? That's right! a bowler hat, wearing a bowler hat and an ill-fitting suit...he looks like someone's father, like an accountant, like no one important. Don't underestimate him though, he's like you, very much like you."

[color=gold]"Don't worry, you know me, I'm always friendly."[/color]

[hr]
[h3][i]A Morning Meeting[/i][/h3]

Katya found the Consortium operative within the depths of the tavern easily enough. He looked exactly like Stepan had told her. A stubby, middle-aged man, wearing a three piece suit and a bowler hat. American, given his accent, and unremarkable, in almost every way.

"Tailor," he said, offering her his hat, with a polite nod.

[color=gold]"Taser,"[/color] Katya replied, countering with a sarcastic wave of her hand. He frowned and Katya sensed a surge of electrical activity within him, fingers gripping tightly around the umbrella he carried and muscles readying for a strike. Smiling was pointless when wearing her mask, but Katya couldn't help but grin, things were finally getting interesting. 

"This way," the Tailor finally said, letting out a loud sigh, and gesturing for her to follow.

Neither of them spoke as they walked outside of the tavern, but Katya could feel the Tailor watching her, sizing her up, even as he lead her to the headquarters of the Consortium. She couldn't quite place it, but there was something very wrong with the Tailor, something familiar, something very distinctly three letter agency, and it filled Katya with a sense of disgust. 

"Alverton Building," the Tailor finally said, breaking the silence as he ushered her in through the back door of some looming skyscraper. Like some common criminal she thought, appropriate, but somehow it still felt like an insult.

Leading her through a maze of doors and rooms, the Tailor stopped at an elevator marked clearly "[i] Maintenance Use Only[/i]." He swiped a key card and gestured for her to enter, "Maxwell is waiting for you on the top floor."

As she passed him and stepped into the elevator, he handed her a set of car keys, "For your driver. Volkswagen, Black Golf, Level B3. Tell him to bring it back in one piece."

[color=gold]"Sure thing, портной, see you around,"[/color] Katya replied, nodding in his direction, and not missing the threat that lurked beneath his words. 

[hr] 

*([i]портной - Russian: tailor[/i])