Agent Blaze - Aimed To Kill | SFW ver. [Blaze-Blue-Duet Part One]

Chapter 25

"Alright, Fucker, got eyes on the target," Adira whispers into her earpiece. She sits in the leather booth of a 24/7 diner, in front of a milkshake with two scoops of ice cream slowly melting, almost daring to overflow in the glass, yet only ever reaching the rim.

She still can't believe she's doing this, especially since Connor didn't name anything regarding a payment.

Whatever.

She got a milkshake, after all. It's been long since she had the chance to, generally.

The night and the lights of the skyline sparkle all the way to Adira through the huge glass windows on the side of her booth.

Only through the skyline, Adira found out what and where Connor's compound really is.

New York, in a tall building, almost grazing the clouds. In other words – nothing at all what she expected. Velocity is camouflaged as a paper industry building, with white corrugated metal walls and a neon sign on the side that all the lights have eventually gone out in at some point, squeezed on a property on the outer rim of New York.

DEVICORP on the other hand is out as bright as ever, not camouflaged yet hidden.

Adira has to focus.

A man in his late thirties in a NYPD police officer uniform sits across from her booth in the diner, his face hidden behind the New York Newspaper he's reading.

Suddenly, a woman enters the diner, and with her a swath of expensive perfume. The officer only once raises his head to glance over his shoulder and waves her over to him.

The woman's heels click loudly on the tiles and she carelessly throws her thick black fur coat into the booth first before taking a seat on the outer edge.

"Celéne, sorry to bother you at this time of day," the officer speaks up, but the woman raises her hand, revealing elegant manicured nails, and brushes off his words in an indifferent manner.

"It's not a problem. I just came here from a client."

Her voice sounds oddly hoarse, as if she has been smoking hardcore for the last fifty years and her age doesn't even allow that span of time yet.

Telling from her clothing, that woman's client probably saw her gripping on a metal pole and swinging her curves to a private rhythm.

All that, Adira spots while eyeing the melting ice scoops in her milkshake from the second on that the officer took a seat in his booth.

"I mean exactly said client. Mr Kozlov."

Adira's ears ring.

Kozlov.

Celéne's annoyed gaze now is suddenly awake. "Oh, yes? Do you want a private show as well?"

"No- uh... well, I meant-"

"It's gonna cost you, honey."

The elegant yet prissy woman orders a black tea from the waiter walking over to their booth.

The officer neatly folds his newspaper. "Mr Kozlov is in close contact with me and only yesterday introduced me to Mr Donnwell, a good friend of his. They... really mourned their friend's death."

"Sheffron?" the woman asks. Her voice suddenly has a sharp edge to it, Adira can't quite place a finger on how.

The policeman nods.

"His death was sudden for everyone in my company. He was a loyal client to me. Did you have any motive to who did it?"

"Suicide."

Celéne is stunned, but her elegant facial features soon recover and she clears her voice delicately, after the waiter served her tea.

"Oh, that's unfortunate. Mr Kozlov really wanted to show him his company."

Adira listens intently now, taking a huge gulp of her milkshake.

What company- say an address!

"The one at Soyan's Souls?" the officer asks, now a little quieter, to which the woman only nods.

"Maybe we shouldn't discuss those topics here," she suddenly notes and almost inconspicuously glances over to Adira's position.

Adira notices that, too.

Then, she abruptly stands up and grabs her fur coat, throwing it loosely over her shoulders.

"I'll see you at the Gala in three days?"

She didn't take a sip from her tea once.

The officer just nods.

And then, the woman marches out of the diner, with her the swath of her perfume.

Adira finally feels like she can breathe again.

Soyan's Souls. A Gala in three days. Whatever that means, Adira has a hint or an address.

She waits ten more minutes - finishing her milkshake in the meantime – until she allows herself to leave without looking suspicious.

"Got something, Adira?"

"Affirmative."

"You did good."

The officer fell asleep at his table.