[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210910/44a6b21b8166935a682c17f70a60e572.png[/img][/center] [indent][indent][indent][hr] It was the sort of situation that Meora Voskovec wasn’t used to. For most of her life, Meora had been her father’s protégé and second-hand. She didn’t really deal with the contracts or other people. She had her target and her role, but it was here in New York City where she would have to make adjustments to what she was used to. The Senior, a mysterious old man—she assumed—detailing who she would be working with, roughly, and where they would be working out of. Was this a permanent situation? Should she have just ignored the message in the first place? Hard gamble. Especially when people who knew her father were starting to end up in body bags. A secure job was a secure job and in the worst case of all scenarios she could just dip. She had gone over the dossiers, or well, half-of-a-dossiers. Teammates and their skillsets. No real information other than that and their handler. She supposed that the composition of the team made sense despite not knowing exactly what their assignment would be. She was a thief and subterfuge expert and she’d be working alongside extraction specialists, someone skilled with demolitions, and a few others. The easiest conclusion would be theft, but theft on what scale? More information would come with time. She needed to be patient and cautious. It didn’t take much time for her to consider all of the information she had and locating the “base” of operations. Unfortunately, she only knew pieces of Mandarin and Cantonese. Not enough for even conversational interactions, so she had to hope the man behind the counter wouldn’t try to get chatty with her as she followed the instructions that had been recorded on tape. As the wall opened up and she slinked downward into the secret area it appeared that others had arrived before she did. She scoped them out, but kept her comments to herself, at least for the time being. There was a remark by one of them about being on one of the ‘serial killer shows’ and Meora almost chuckled, but decided to keep her stoic demeanor. [color=D8A416]“There are worse ways to go out.”[/color] She commented before finding herself a place in the room where her back was to a wall and could see all of the people she’d be working with. People she couldn’t trust, which at the moment meant pretty much all of them. [/indent][/indent][/indent]