[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmE1YjM2Yi5WbUZ1YW1FZ1NtRnVhMjkyYWNTSC4wAAA,/black-ops-one.regular.png[/img][/center]

Vanja walked at a brisk pace, covertly watching those he passed behind his dark sunglasses. He closely studied their movements and their body language, looking for the slightest clues that they were in fact something other than human. The few people he passed seemed normal enough, but it seemed these creatures have adapted to human society to some degree. Despite no official word from Bonheur yet, he presumed that he and his cohorts would be gallivanting after boogeymen yet again; it seemed like whatever shadowy organization that was in cahoots with Bonheur was not taking any chances. If Alberts was to be trusted, “the gang was all going to be here.” That was too many guns to waste on any human target in this particular city as despite being situated in what was perceived as the first-world Gravette was not home to many high value targets. Bonheur only lent out the heavy hitters in his Rolodex of mercenaries sparingly and that some group was willing to foot the bill for all the A-Listers to be here was rather unprecedented and equally suspicious. Running operations in North America was filled with its own unique risks and the possibilities for failure ran high, Bonheur must have been presented with an offer he couldn’t refuse. There was a distinct possibility that the team was being assembled to take the fall for some actual “Hunters” who were in over their heads. This would not be the first time or the last time one of those groups tried to implement a double-cross. Vanja scoffed as he remembered the gruesome fate the last group that tried to cross Bonheur endured; Reverend Milton and the Lighthouse of Awakening should have not hired mercenaries to deal with their vampire problem if they did not have the funds to pay them in this lifetime. Talks of eternal rewards were a non-starter with a pragmatist like Bonheur, what mattered was the here and the now.  All that remains of the cult nowadays is a charred path of earth in Liberia and a mass grave to go along with it. Milton was in league with some proper “Hunters” who fought monsters for a chance to absolve their sins or some such nonsense, they attempted to protect him from Bonheur’s wrath, and they were unsuccessful to say the least. 

Vanja presumed he never shook the state mandated atheism that he was taught in his boyhood as he never truly understood the motivations of those of the cloth; they seemed to needlessly sacrifice themselves for a deity that only seemed tangentially invested in their existence. Or perhaps his rejection of the faith of man cycled back to Her once again as most threads in his life did. He recalled Rakel telling him of her people’s beliefs on the unseen thread crafted by some long-forgotten goddess that unites the hearts of all conscious beings; despite their differences everything…everyone was intrinsically connected. It was something Vanja being in the line of work he was in did not like to ruminate on; her disappointment with what he has become in the intervening years frightened him more than any threat of eternal damnation in a pit of fire and brimstone.  

Vanja did not imprint himself in the minds of the few people he passed on the streets, most did not even pay him the courtesy of a second glance in his direction. He looked like any other office dweller, his non-descript suit and impeccable grooming made it look like his natural habitat was behind a desk filing paperwork at a middling firm of some sort, few would guess at a glance what his real occupation was. He took a puff on his cigar and casually flicked the cigar ash on the sidewalk. Despite the early hours there were noticeably less people walking the streets than a similar sized metropolis, the increasing number of disappearances and murders were probably wrecking untold stress on the public psyche if the numerous missing person posters plastered in shop windows were to believed. Vanja studied a thick dossier of information on Gravette before arriving and factoring in the recent revelation that Alberts was here the town certainly had a sizeable vermin problem.  Maybe an all-star team was not unwarranted after all. 

Including himself and Alberts, Vanja figured there would be seven specialists in total here. The remaining five who have yet to arrive were practically a smorgasbord of human rights abusers and other assorted ne'er-do-wells; what concerned Vanja more than their crimes was the insurmountably of their combined egos. [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9b/46/56/9b46567a2bc5411861f6d4dd2e1f56f8.jpg ]Dr. Laurissa Anderson [/url] is the resident medical practitioner who proudly served as a personal physician to a plethora of dictators and autocrats during her notorious career, while also overseeing horrifying medical experiments requested by those same men; in addition to her duties as a battlefield medic she serves the function of collecting and preserving specimens requested by the client. [url= https://avanishingworld.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/udo_kier_1.jpg] Günther von Braun [/url] the espionage specialist is the scion of a wealthy German family who received military academy training at the prestigious French Academy of St. Cyr; his wealthy upbringing did little to neuter his more base passions and he was the prime suspect in a series of brutal slayings that plagued campus before he disappeared from public life.  [url= https://i.pinimg.com/564x/a9/16/cf/a916cffc36b00aa64a0fbd7751fbe8d9.jpg]Enrique Piñón[/url], the heavy weapons and demolitions expert is supposedly serving a life sentence in the Carandiru Penitentiary in São Paulo, Brazil for his participation in three brutal heists of rather prestigious Brazilian banks; as long as the bribes keep on coming his continued incarceration in that facility is what is presented to the public. [url= https://lastfm.freetls.fastly.net/i/u/770x0/01205495c675448f833e36f0e4b35a25.jpg#01205495c675448f833e36f0e4b35a25]Nyambura Otieno [/url], the masterclass driver is purported to have raced competitively in the unground circuit until she crashed in a high stake race Johannesburg and unfortunately compulsive gambling left her in a huge amount of debt to some shady people; she is unquestionably loyal to Bonheur for the opportunity to help ease the massive financial burden on herself. [url= https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1d/02/d2/1d02d2ff04dd5a8266db03edd9137c45.jpg]QU35710N (Question)[/url] is the hacker extraordinaire and despite the occupation does know how to carry himself in a firefight; nevertheless, he is more comfortable piloting his 3D printed drones outfitted with limited offensive capabilities from a secure location.
 
Vanja felt a headache coming as he imagined navigating the proverbial sea of egotism; this day was getting worse and worse with every passing second. Caught up in his own thoughts he barely managed to avoid running headlong into a few burly looking men nursing injuries of varying degrees of severity. Well, that certainly was not something you see every day, he mused. It was clear that those gentlemen were usually on the other side of dispensing violence.  Vanja only managed to catch a brief snippet of their hushed conversation as the group hurried along, but through the vulgarities he deduced that they were cheated out of money by some kid and ran into some crazy strong broad.  Intriguing, to say the least; could be worth pursuing Vanja thought to himself as he took an long puff from his cigar.  

With the confrontation avoided he continued to walk with no real destination in mind; he was feeling out the city as he had a sinking feeling, he would be staying here for the foreseeable future. His mind drifted to Rakel as it normally did In ambient moments such as this. He mulled over the last thing she ever said to him, he could hear it as clear as the day she spoke to him. 

“My little sparrow if you remember that I love you as you traverse through the peaks and valleys of life, I’ll know.  When you gaze upon something of great beauty, I’ll see it too. When some joy fills you with boundless laughter, it is your voice I’ll hear. The barriers of distance and time are immaterial to us, we can never be fully separated. The great thread binds us all. Should you ever tire of this wild world all you have to do find me is to take this talisman in your hands and call out…”

As usual the final refrain never came; it seemed the years had robbed him of the most important part of her instructions to him. The words need to find her were in a language at the time he thought was made up, a silly language spoken between the two of them as children that he had long forgotten. He was cursed to remember her, but not how to find her; this was his lot in life, his cross to bear. He felt his grip tighten on his cigar until it snapped under the stress. He gritted his teeth as complex emotions welled up inside of him. Before he could snap, he bottled those complex feelings up once again, knowing full well the next time it would be progressively harder to put the proverbial lid his pent-up sentiments. He bent down and picked up the remnants of his destroyed cigar, he internally chided himself on his behavior. He continued walking being sure to dispose of what was once his cigar in a proper receptacle. 

He stopped at what was presumably a local watering hole, but it looked like it has seen better days as the front window was currently broken. He was sure this where that group of upstanding citizens he encountered earlier must have originated from. He moseyed on up letting out a whistle as he pretended to inspect the damage, but behind his sunglasses he was actually taking note of the clientele that he could see inside and outside of the establishment.     

He noticed the name of the tavern was apparently Saints and Sinners and was not sure if he appreciated the name ironically or unironically. In the old country it seemed they were either not that creative when naming things or the state censors just dissuaded such frivolities. He mentally shrugged. Hidden behind his shades his eyes quickly darted from person to person. Only few of the patrons stood out to him. Firstly, there was a rather muscular female who seemingly met the loose qualifications of possibly possessing a good deal of strength and being a broad.  There was also this inordinately handsome man smoking a cigarette, one’s eyes were inexplicably drawn to him and it took some will power to advert one’s gaze. It was rather hard to pinpoint who “some kid” could be as there were a few younger looking patrons milling around and age was relative to the beholder. Needless to say this was certainly an interesting locale and it seemed that a lot of interesting characters liked to partake in this fine dining experience. He could not help but let a mirthless smirk envelop his face as he was certain that this was an establishment worthy of him and his compatriots’ patronage in the coming days. Things were starting to look up.