@gambler: Haha if you say so. Looking for an av right now, I'll get something up once I'm done.
What kind of Av? Masked or unmasked? SS or something else? Come on son you know I got that fire
@the_rumor: Slinging the towel behind his neck, simultaneously slipping his pampered feet into a pair of criss cross opened toe Gucci leather sandals before issuing a charismatically smug response, "Tis dat badge suppose to yield some manner of significance?" once again pausing as yet another servant appeared carefully balancing a tray containing a methodically concocted protein shake. "Excuse me, would you like one? You'll find no better nutritional stimulate in dee World mon ami."
@gambler: "I'll pass on the green shake thanks..The badge? I would say more like..Authority..Meta-human affairs you see, and no, we aren't affiliated with America..Or anyone really..That of course does not change the whole..Authority aspect.." Johnston kept his professional calm smirk on his face while explaining the weight of the badge. "Your cooperation today would be valued, and expected..Even for a criminal such as yourself and please, I really have a tight schedule I do not have time for a retort to that.."
"A fan of ancient literature Mr.Cotillard? Such as a scroll detailing some myth of a hidden temple in the mountains..You wouldn't happen to think this myth is real..Do you?" Johnston raised a brow, of course already knowing it was more than likely Cotillard has visited the supposed area recently. "Bring back any good..Souvenirs?" Although Johnston was calm, Higgins and Clay were on their toes, arms casually crossed, ready to reach for their firearms if need be.
@the_rumor: The novelty of referring to the assassin as a criminal in the same breath as a proclamation of authority brought a whimsical chuckle out of the aristocrat. "A scroll you say? Secret temples.....sounds like the making of great fiction ami. I was not aware dee MHA was in dee habit of entertaining such fantastical tales." peering over the brim of his glass. "Please, have your men relax. Such rigid posture is unhealthy for dee body." silently surprised as to why an agent of the MHA would question him about such a matter. "Surely dhere are a multitude of characters better equipped to answer your inquires. Temple ninjas arent my specialty." he mocked.
@gambler: Not even a single falter in Johnston's posture of blank yet friendly visage. "There would be purchases that beg to differ Mr.Cotillard..I didn't expect you to just explain your controversial activities, and my men over there just get excited at the chance of bringing in someone resisting a government officials questions with pampered lies..But of course now I am "confused and I must have my facts wrong".." Johnston chuckled, having dealt with men like Jean for a living. "No need to worry though right? It isn't like we are watching for anything that could be terrorism, you have yourself a nice day sir.." Johnston gave a final nod, along with a friendly smile before turning for his SUV.
@the_rumor: "Au revoir." Jean saluted. Amused by the fact government officials were still hunting terrorists in a World filled with super-powered villains and alien warlords. Turning to his glass wearing assistant he passively commented, "Make sure to send them some tailored suits. Dee covert spy business must not pay as well I as I had thought."
@gambler: She watched his lips with a quiet captivation, noticing their every detail along with the rest of his face. The sun had long set outside the grandeur cafe and the city's lights had come to life, casting a warm light over the dining duo. "Then we're agreed. Oh, and as of now, I don't have a date," she noted quickly, bringing an end to the topic. A single one of her meticulously sculpted eyebrows raised at his strayed question, the White Queen skeptical as to his interest in her family lineage. "Both my parents were born and raised in noble households within Paris, my mother being of pure French decent while my father has ancestry within Britain. Centuries of family wealth provided neither of them needed to work, however my father took up business as a young man and my mother abandoned her socialite status to aid him after they were married. From their early adulthood up until recently they ran the third largest hedge fund worldwide as well as being head aristocratic figures within France. Several years ago they sold the company piece by piece for a total gain of more than it was worth as a whole and have been retired in a different location every other day since. Croatia it's been the past couple years? I can't be bothered keeping track," she explained with an indifferent sigh, clearly bored by the surface achievements of her parents. The information she chose to give out was nothing a Google search couldn't tell you, and Valerie never gave out any useful information without a price. "They still come home often due their position within French politics, royalty by birthright as they passed on to me, otherwise they're please to live out the rest of their lives quietly." Taking another drink of her drink she let the glasses' remains slide down her throat before looking at him expectantly, interested as to his reasoning behind the surprise question, and whether he'd push for more than her vague answer.
@gambler: Tentatively rumored news of a Cotillard's recent reemergence into the ostentatious world of Europoean aristocracy had inevitably reached the ears of the vaunted Knightfall A-Lister. Harboring environmentally cultivated respect for the Cotillard lineage, Don Andres' intrinsically present objective of perpetual global prominence appropriately coupled with the tantalizing possibility of associating with one born from another family of iconic regal flair and aristocratic pedigree governed his subsequent positional transition from the Catalonian pride, Barcelona, to a global hub of fashion and style, the French capital of Paris.
A habitual testament to his consistent immaculate appearance, the White King's perfectly sculpted physical frame is flawlessly complimented by characteristic sartorial exemplification. Clad in a lavish, three-piece, two-button Ermenegildo Zegna Centennial suit, stylishly enhanced by the aristocratic charm of an accompanying vest, premier silk tie, elegant cotton-silk, and collar bar, the subtly intoxicating scent of Men's Dior enticingly radiating from his fashionable frame. Pinpointing Jean Luc's location near the Champs-Élysées, in the Four Seasons Hotel George V, Andres emerges from the luxurious interior of his chauffeured, Rolls-Royce Phantom Series ll limousine, mesmeric, dark blue eyes momentarily indulging in artistic appreciation of the hotel's architecturally majestic white-stone elegance while simultaneously approving of the surviving Cotillard's taste.
Carrying himself with genetically inherent Knightfall panache and postured regalia, the charismatic Catalan sets foot inside the extravagantly maintained hotel. In the captivating marble lobby, Andres' ocular clarity spot the unmistakable figure of Jean Luc. Approaching the Aristocratic Assassin, the Martial Arts Einstein flashes an introductory smile of urbane panache, "Senor Jean Luc, tis a pleasure", opting against a handshake, a brief and subtle inclination of the head acting as an appropriate alternative. "If you have time my friend, there is something I'd like to discuss".
Lady Grimm silently strolls into the Louvre Palace, a very famous museum primarily known for it's works of art from a variety of treasured artists throughout the centuries of Europe. Rarely seen elegantly dressed as she is now in her black cocktail dress complete with a light purple shading of lipstick and eye shadow to match. As she walks down the aisles casually, she ponders over the obsession society has with mere combinations of paint.
Interesting to most. Yet insanely boring. Continuing to pass by the works of art she notices a gruesome portrait of some battle scene during the French Revolution. Now this is a work of art. She thinks to herself while examining every inch and drop of red paint splattered on the figures of soldiers.
@valerie_huntington: Conspiratorial contemplation obsessively taunted the Duke of Cotillard's thoughts culminating in the creation of his own personal demons. Further manifested through the celebrated madonna's tale of her parents withdrawal and excessively peculiar relocating. These were thoughts however that would remain unspoken. Instead Jean Luc slipped a well manicured hand over top of the enchanting socialites gently cradling it while bringing it to his lips. "It would be my honor if you would allow me to escort you, chere." softly gracing her skin with a kiss. Purposely deviating the conversation away from his prior inquiry and towards more appetizing repartee. "Dee next step, I believe, would be dee cultivation of a proper guest list, no?" his suave accent lining an already enrapturing cadence.
Readjusting the grey sleeve of a designer cashmere Loro Paina sweater in order to maintain its fit around the corrugated groove of his forearm, exemplified attention to detail guiding his hand as a newly released Animus tablet was graced with a digital signature, the multi-tasking Duke reaffirmed the fashionably elite Knightfall's arrival with a subtle head tilt. A brief nod silently dismissing his secretary allowing the affluent Cotillard the opportunity to properly greet the authenticated, and fellow, one percenter. "Bienvenue Monsieur Knightfall." using a gate like motion with his arm, "Please, walk with me." Indulging the intellectually urbane elitist while preparing to receive the excepted influx of arriving dinner guests. "I was saddened to learn of your sisters violent misfortune. Twas comforting to learn dat you were able to exact your revenge, LeBeau was an extremist, and like all extremist, was incapable of the artistic appreciation of anything outside his realm of comprehension. Dee World will be better off once he is laid to rest." monitored modulation cunningly conveying sympathetic overtones.
As they ventured down elegantly decorated halls filled with immaculate portraits and marble sculptures, Jean Luc feverishly scrolled through his mobile device, another piece of innovative Animus tech, while still maintaining a genuine focus on the celebrated legacy. Pushing past a pair of swinging doors and into the kitchen, a comedic display of cinematic quarreling unfolded. Posturing over a plate charismatically conversing with a visually agitated Fugu chef in his native Japanese dialect. The apparent mentor determined to hand over the responsibility of the deadly dish to the Cotillard heir with no exceptions. Taken a surgically sharpened knife and performing several delicately precise incisions before handing it back and bowing, the aristocratic bluebloods were once again free to continue on. "Excuse me, as you can see, we're preparing for quite an evening. Naturally you are free to stay if prior engagements allow such an impromptu invitation." slipping his hands into the pockets of his cornsilk shaded corduroy slacks. "But I suspect your motives for coming here dis evening do not involve a culinary tasting." he lightly joked.
The stars glittered in the evening sky of Paris, almost entirely unblemished by the mesmeric lights of the city. As they did so, Zara Thibedeaux innocently wandered the streets, looking none the wiser to any watching eye. It had taken her five nights to track down one of the resting locations of the illustrious Jean Luc Cotillard, her current mark.
At the age of twenty, she had cemented a reputation as Voleuse, the enigmatic high end thief who had never been identified, nor accurately seen. Reports of her varied, sometimes male, sometimes female, sometimes five feet tall, sometimes over six. The one thing that all reports had in common was her unrivaled skill at getting what she wanted. And what she wanted now was a challenge.
Zara slid down a poorly lit alley, slinking like a cat as she went along. Once immersed in the depths of its darkness, she slipped off the hooded sweatshirt and pulled up the cowled mask of her 'uniform'. It was a skintight black suit made of a high tech weave that refracted light sources, resulting in her being invisible on cameras without the use of her powers.
It took her a quick three minutes to scale up the side of a building, silently transitioning from a fire escape to an inches wide ledge, to the sill of a window, balancing on one foot, and again to a ledge. With preternatural grace, speed and an acrobatic ability that could only be described as nearly Olympic, it was easy work for Zara to make her way to the half foot ledge that surrounded the penthouse window of Jean Luc's estate.
Invisible to any and all forms of electronic surveillance and using a suit that hid her stealthily, the little thief held out a gloved hand and slid a tool from inside it. Applying the high concentration laser to the panels of glass, she utilized a suction to prevent them from crashing to the floor. Having already disabled the routed security system, this was the last step before making entrance into the suite.
Doing so, she replaced the glass, the pads of her boots making no ambient noise as they hit the floor. She had intentionally waited until he was asleep, knowing that the ring she desired would be with him, more than likely laid out on his dresser or in a safe, simply adding more danger to this mission.
Moving with unbelievable grace and silence, Zara began quickly casing the interior.
"But of course, Senor Cotillard", a politely cast wink of suave, social magnetism affirming his worded agreement to indulge in a momentary, indirect tour of the Four Seasons Hotel George V's extravagant interior. The sympathetically voiced mention of familial deaths pertaining to the Noir Rose's ruthlessly exercised terrorism leading up to his eventual capture subtly appealed to the Catalan Adonis. "Gracias my friend, I do not intend to dwell on the subject of these familial tragedies", faintly expressed facial sorrow momentarily overcoming him, the impacting demise of both his parents at the hands of the globe's most infamous Darwinist perpetually plaguing him.
Within a space of nonexistent time, the Debonair Don's inherent, charismatic disposition made its expected return with immediacy as the sartorial duo of socially renown aristocrats wandered the hotel's captivating interior. Their eyes artistically treated to an aesthetic eyeful of blooms in the marble lobby, a sumptuous flurry of Flemish tapestries, 19th century furniture, brocade fabrics, and crystal chandeliers decoratively positioned throughout its public spaces. A briefly witnessed scene of humorous comedic appeal situated in the entered kitchen inciting a quietly escaped chuckle from Don Andres' immaculately clad, perfectly chiseled frame. With instinctive action, both arms calmly folded behind the Caballero's back, mirroring the genetically ingrained aristocratic mannerisms of his late father with physically expressed regalia and unapologetic elitism. "A humorous duo, those two, si?", a light verbal jest following their departure from the frenetic environment of the hotel kitchen.
"Perhaps, the erratic schedule of a Knightfall, much like a Cotillard's, incites a desire for momentary relaxation and isolation from our hectic routines". Subtly, the corner of his lips curl upwards, instinctively forming a faintly visual smirk of engrossing cheekiness. "You would not be wrong my friend", he paused, a quick ocular survey of their immediate surroundings, affirming that eavesdropping ears were exempt from their proximity. "Many, particularly today's youth speak of the Illuminati. Tis an interesting rumor. But this rumor, she has incited an idea. The real Illuminati, one that should be composed of the globe's most socially prominent and influential, its most knowledgeable and cunning", he paused.
"Senor Cotillard, there is none other than yourself to commence this... endeavor with", implicitly highlighting his desire to ignite a gathering of a clique, the world's elite for the historically momentous incarnation of the modern Illuminati.
Harmonic melodies resonating from the sleeping Cotillard's alligator strap Radiomir Oro Rosa watch slowly broke the assassin free from a World of fantastical dreams. A strict supplemental regime of protein drinks, multivitamins, and obsessively monitored dietary implementations, holding him to a disciplined schedule. Like clock work technologically integrated electronics brought the lavishly decorated bedroom to life, ancillary attendants systematically filing in each one directly responsible for a specifically tailored task.
Two perfectly balanced platinum coated trays were delicately presented before the groggy eyed blueblood. The first containing a small medicine cup filled with an assortment of colorfully coated pills and capsules, while the second was occupied by a single glass of "Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modigliani." At sixty thousand dollars per 750ml, it was easily the Worlds most ostentatiously expensive water.
"Merci." Jean Luc softly thanked.
Generational prestige was evident in even the subtlest mannerisms of the assassin's lifelong help. Disciplined silence and customary dignity prominently producing an avant-garde like sense of pride, even in the small collection of handmaidens working at the foot of Jean Luc's bed making sure to swim out any unsettling crease that may have formed throughout the night.
An elongated stretch proceeded a swift exit from the satin silk sheets exposing an unprecedented physique of perfected nude molding before being stylishly fitted with royal purple bathrobe. Secretive Illuminati stenciling marking the chest and back with symbolic designs. Clutching the collard sides of the robe nonchalantly admiring the reflection in the mirror, Jean Luc proceeded to slide the full length indulgence of self-absorbed vanity to the side exposing an Animus Corp security panel. Finger print analyses complete, the vibranuim door slid open revealing the assassins most prized possessions, including the irreplaceable Illuminati ring paced down from father to son for over a thousand years.
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