Hawker vs. Sharpshot #2
All characters are original characters owned by Impurest Cheese...except for Sharpshot. he's owned by @tommythehitman.
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Interpol Building, Lyon, France
The mocha skinned woman dressed in a female business suit sat at the desk, her hazel eyes boring into the elderly French man with grey thinning hair and scarred face as he flicked through the data on his computer.
"Mademoiselle King, these records are most troubling indeed." The agent stated, "Most troubling indeed. There are six ports in North Africa and Central America that are not listed on the public manifest."
"I noticed Inspector Bertrand." King replied, "I also believe there are several allegations from security forces in Mexico, Algeria and Dominica that Le Pelagic vessels have been involved in illicit trade."
"And it seems like someone else knew as well." Bertrand sighed, as brought up a set of still images of the men killed in the office. "As per our usual agreement that's a hundred thousand Euro deduction per head from your fee."
"I'm more than willing to take that reduction as long as you can get me an ID for the merc who was already there when I arrived." King stated. "My Hawker Huntress armor was able to capture half a dozen still images before I completed the data retrieval and exfil."
"I'd hardly call him a mercenary." Bertrand spat, as he typed a series of commands into his computer. "His name is Callum Hawke, although he is more commonly known by his handle Sharpshot. He has somewhat of a reputation of being a mad-dog, someone who only knows how to kill."
"So whoever hired him was really taking a gamble that he would get the job done." King suggested, as she looked at the file listing a number of Sharpshot's vital attributes and past crimes. "He was packing some exotic weaponry, that narrows down his supplier to six, maybe seven people. Should you need me to I could track him down in forty-eight hours." She added, before noticing the look of worry creeping onto Inspector Bertrand's face. "What is it? What don't I know about Mister Hawke?"
"Misour Hawke has a habit of taking his missions personally. We have a record of one of these...'habits'. Sharpshot was hired by the Colombian Government to take out a notorious drug baron based in the jungle. Rumor has it just a few hours before the attack the Baron died of a heart-attack, most mercenaries would be relieved but not Misour Hawke." Bertrand stated, pausing only to take a deep breath. "Feeling cheated Hawke killed the Baron's men, his main smuggling contact, three informants in three different cities in South America and a cafe full of people who had bought the drugs in Amsterdam."
"All because he didn't get to kill his target?" King gasped, as she took another hard look at Sharpshot's rap-sheet.
"Yes." Bertrand answered grimly, before getting to his feet. "You're fee will be wired to your account Madame King. As for Hawke...my suggestion is to pray he doesn't find you, but prepare for when he does."
"Thank you Inspector Bertrand." King answered as she shook the agent's hand as she got out of her chair. "Please keep me informed about the case and I'll be in touch should I hear anything on my end about Pelagic's activities ."
"Wait aren't you worried about this Sharpshot character Mademoiselle?" Bertrand asked.
"Of course." King answered. "It would be unprofessional not to be."
**
Volos, Greece
The three identical representatives of the Gun-Smith stared glassy eyed at the naked Greek girl sitting at the table, an uncomfortable look on her face, her graze drifting to the naked man, save for a mask over his face rummaging through the fridge.
"Tell me again why 'Attack of the Clones' over there didn't pay me in full!" Sharpshot snapped, a bottle of champagne clutched in his hand.
"You...you Didn't provide document." The girl answered in broken English, her body shaking as Sharpshot walked up to the table.
"Ah of cause, well if Hawker hadn't snatched that schedule from me maybe they wouldn't be dead!!" Sharpshot snorted. "You know whoever said If life brings you troubles, drink some Champagne, then your problems will just become bubbles was talking a load of bulls**t because my problem still looks like a thieving vulture dressed in armor." He added smashing the bottle over a wine glass, chips of glass and expensive wine raining down onto the table.
"Perhaps you should be angry somewhere else. I can find someone to talk to online about it." The girl suggested, her words causing Sharpshot's eyes to light up, as inspiration struck him.
"I got it!" Sharpshot yelled."If I Google the phrase 'class-A b***h' she should come up..." He continued as he pulled out his phone and started typing, "...and Bingo I find nothing. Jeez Melinda do you have any other stupid ideas?"
"Maybe Google Hawker?" Melinda suggested, as she looked over at the gun sitting between the three dead men and her.
"Uh uh Sadness stay in your circle." Sharpshot ordered. "Oh okay so Hawker has a Merced-In profile and she's ranked in the top ten mercenaries in the world. Not as good as me of course with my ranking of...ninety seventh?!" He threw the phone to the floor in disgust. "How can I be ninety seventh? This is an injustice indeed!" He spat as he turned to see Melinda scoop up the gun and aim it at his chest.
"Let me go I'm begging you." She gasped, as she edged towards the door of the villa.
"I was, I'm not King Kong you know." Sharpshot stammered as he reached for his own weapon taped to the underside of the table. "And you know beauty isn't gonna kill the beast this time because A I'm hot, we all know it and B..." He stopped as he saw Melinda exited the villa. "Jeez wait a go guys, you couldn't just do the whole Weekend at Bernie's shtick." He snapped at the pile of corpses.
Walking back to the fridge Sharpshot looked at his reflection in the ice. "Of course I'm hot." He murmured as he removed another bottle of champagne and smashed it over a second wine glass. "Here's to us babe," He sighed, as he picked up his phone and looked at Hawker's profile picture, "tonight I drink, tomorrow you die."
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