[center][h2]Hornet[/h2]
[h3]HQ - Looks Who’s Here for Dinner![/h3][/center]

The desperate and aggressive groans of an increasingly hungry belly pulled Michele more quickly the closer she came to the dining room. Soon enough, her nose caught the wafting scent of the meal being prepared… [i]Hamburgers?[/i] She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and snicker just a bit. Had she never spent time in the United States, she might not have cared much for the grease-lathed meat patty sandwiched between copious amounts of carbohydrates… she might have preferred a more typical French cuisine, perhaps Moules Marinières. But her stay on the other side of the Atlantic had warmed her to the customs and meals of the other side of her heritage. And the smell of grilling beef and melting cheese captivated her hunger; her stomach decided for her that a burger would be the perfect way to celebrate surviving her first Raven Squad mission. 

Attempting to hide that she was salivating, Michele entered the dining room. Her path brought her into an instant beeline towards the griddle. She nodded towards Sam, who was the first to greet her as she entered. “bonne soirée !” she spoke as she walked by, this being said more broadly to the team as a whole. She found herself a seat at the table as Xander handed her his burger. “Merci.” She bowed her head so much as her sore neck would allow. “I think,” she continued, now addressing Skye, “there are still some… kinks to work out in my control of the armor. But it should go better next time.”

[center][h3]After ??? Rounds of José Cuervo[/h3][/center]

Michele had miscalculated. She had misjudged her situation. It had never occurred to her that a group of mercenaries could drink each other under the table so much as the Raven Squad lot. 

She sat, trashed and laughing with a masculine bravado as her comrades swapped tales of their past endeavors. The table rounded on her as she downed a shot of tequila… they were looking for a tale with a punchline; something to snort drunkenly over. So she regaled the party with a story about a meticulously botched art heist she had played a bit role in a year or two earlier. 

"... and so…" she chuckled, wiping a hand down her face as she reached the end. "After everything we went through, we bring the piece to our client… and he looks at the boss… deadeye… and he says, "You dumbass!!! I told you to get me an authentic Monet, not Manet!" 

[center][h3]Singapore. Party Time.[/h3][/center]

Michele arrived on site a few minutes behind the rest of the team. The staggered arrival process was key to maintaining their cover; six people with no apparent business connections showing up as a group might arouse suspicion among security. 

As Sam would be going through the security check, Michele parked the "borrowed" Mercedes CLA Coupe in the lot overlooked by the penthouse. Slipping out of the vehicle she unveiled herself as wearing a simple [url=https://www.maison-alaia.com/49/49797526LS_999_f.jpg]black dress[/url] contrasted by a white pearl necklace and white leather purse with diamond studs. It was more feminine a look than she cared much for, but it was all necessary to look the part of an honored guest. She held at the car briefly to apply the finishing touch of red lipstick before making her way steadily up to the checkpoint. 

It was a slower go than was normal for her. She had sworn off high heels for most of her life; so the factor of balancing with six inches of lift didn't come second nature. She wobbled the first few steps before finding her footing, and continued gracefully from then on. Still, she looked forward to getting the task at hand started. Along with the assortment of gadgets awaiting inside, Sam had also thought ahead to customize the women's footwear. Every pair of heels retracted into the outsoles, and converted the kicks seamlessly into flats. No need to bring an extra pair of shoes for the heist!

"Welcome ma'am." 

Hornet had arrived at the checkpoint. "Good evening sir." She curtseyed to the guard. 

"Name." The guard checked down a list of guests. 

"Ulick." Michele swallowed her pride slightly, and produced the fake ID Chaos had supplied. "First name Eileen." 

"Ah. Eileen… Ulick…?" The guard seemed taken aback. 

"Yes. My parents had a strange sense of humor." She laughed and rolled her eyes reminiscently. She'd have to get back at Chaos for that one someday. 

"Oh. Very well then. Place your cell phone in the secure container and come in. Enjoy the party." 

"Of course." She left her phone with security and entered the party. She waded carefully through the buzz of dignitaries and degenerates alike. They reminded her of the clientele she used to pull jobs for… scumbags that masqueraded as saints. She bit her tongue back, and made friendly with a few other guests; Eileen Ulick was, after all, a high rolling investor looking to add Pavel's dealings to her portfolio. All the while she eyed across the room towards Sam, waiting for her cue to move. 

When Chaos slipped out and down to the executive offices, Hornet casually worked her socializing around the floor until she was positioned by the access to the lower level. Luckily she didn't need to wait for too long. Chaos was good and worked quickly. Within a few minutes the call came in over the comms that the team's gear was ready for them.

Unnoticed by prying eyes, Michele slipped out of the festivities and into the offices below. Checking that her way was clear of security, she snuck across from the stairwell and into the open office. In haste, she found what she needed, stuffing the new equipment into her purse. "The bee is in the hive," she spoke over the team comm. She tapped the heels of her shoes together Dorothy-style, and they lowered into a more wieldy pair of flats. "Ready to make some honey."