The Notorious Mr. Pierce [REWRITING]

Chapter 1

Atlanta weaved in and out of shadows, on top of rooftops and down the sewers of the crowded streets of London. She adjusted her hood and arrived at her destination, a black mask sitting passively on her face.

She had set the scene, a cold and dark alleyway for her current deal. Somewhere she had made sure that even if someone were to venture here, they would turn a blind eye at whatever she was doing.

Winter had graced London with its presence, and the thick blankets of snow had clung onto every surface. Flakes of snow had already found its way to her cloak. White specks littered on the black fabric.

Faint and unsure footsteps echoed in the cold and dark alleyway after a few minutes of waiting. Her lips twisted into a sly smile as she recognised who it was.

"Mr. Abbot, as early as always."

A man wrung his hands. His raspy, but usually haughty and snobbish voice shook with nearly every syllable, fearful and anxious.

"M...Mr. Pierce." He said, "It's a pleasure."

Lord Casper Abbot was a short man, his unruly brown hair was streaked with thin wisps of white and fell to his shoulders in a tangled mess. His suit was in a similar state, wrinkled and torn at the edges. Atlanta had always thought it a wonder that he ever had ladies looking his way. But who was she to judge the tastes of other women?

He had requested a favor a few days ago, Atlanta remembered his small note sitting expectantly on her desk. The curt correspondence between them as delightful as any.

Atlanta turned around slowly, enjoying every moment of the theatrical gesture.

"The weather's nice looking today, isn't it?"

"Y...Well...Y...Yes, I suppose it does." Mr. Abbot was response uncertain as he took a cautious step back, whether the man realized it or not.

"A little bit wet, but perfectly ideal for illegal dealings don't you think?" Atlanta teased, yet her tone was cold.

She disguised her voice with a rough huskiness that used to be quite uncomfortable, but now was just another part of her range.

Her clothing had consisted of a white polo shirt, and a black tailcoat. Her long wavy black hair was tucked away, her green eyes were looking straight ahead. Her expression blank.

Mr. Abbot was silent for a few minutes, Atlanta was almost surprised that he didn't respond.

In her gloved hand, was firmly gripped and polished cane.

She smoothed her hand over the wood at the handle and tossed Lord Abbot a small, worn out notebook. It had clearly been with its owner for quite some time.

They were silent for a few moments. The only sound was the quiet flipping of paper as Lord Casper read page by page in awe. Soon, the book was snapped shut, the sound bouncing off of the alley walls for a brief second.

Mr. Abbot fumbled for her pockets, slipping the closed book win the his chest pocket. He straightened his battered tie and cleared his throat.

"How did you do it?" He asked, his voice wavering.

Atlanta adjusted her gloves lazily. "Your whore's chambers aren't that hard to sneak into Mr. Abbot. You of all people should know."

"W...Whore?" He sputtered, gulping as he straightened his back, forcing his chin upwards. "I ask that you have some respect for the Marchioness."

"If you want me to respect her name, I shall have to charge you extra." Atlanta scoffed lightly, her lips twisted into a cold smile that didn't reach her menacing green eyes. "But unless you decide to, I will call her whatever I want."