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FLASHBACK P.S: PLAY THE SONG 👆
The club was lit with neon smoke and punk music booming with hard bass. The dancers were erotic and distracted. Dressed in racy, ripped clothing...most only in underwear. Men and women, piled together like sardines. Like cattle. Good, Isis thinks to herself, that means the target is following the others. That she's distracted.
Isis wasn't used to hunting down women...before she used to think that the gender was to smart to get caught...until this mission. Amber White, a top assassin who slipped up. Who left evidence behind.
Isis gyrates her body, blending in with the hungry foreigners. The French. Amber, Amber, Amber....you were too easy to find. You should have a burner....and body guards. Her gaze goes to a curvy, built woman, who had height. An advantage over Isis. Then she eyes the entrance, where one bouncer stood. Just a typical man...not a spy...not with how he watched the sensual gestures of the pretty women. He was just a man enjoying the show.
Unless...you can handle yourself, that explains being wide open like this.
Amber rubs up and down between two women...like a sandwich, trailing her hands down the chest and thighs of the two women. Daring. Wild. Sweating. Feeling the beat.
The saxophone in the song vibrates Isis's soul...and mind...and desire to pull the gun she had...to end the bitch. Her stringy, blond hair covers her eyes. It's time to put it up. Time to get serious. Isis goes blank as she heads to the restroom. Before going into the tiny area, she spots Amber take a seat at a booth, whipping her long purple hair side to side, as she chats with a man.
Inside, Isis closes the door. There is only one stall in this underground club. Unisex. I'll give Paris this...they're ahead of the curve. A window was up in this area, letting in a winter chill.
Hmm...Her mind lingers a bit. Suspicious. She listens closely, and scans the small room. No one is here....relax. On the sink, she props her leg up, and removes a hair tie. Bare feet. Isis bends her head forward, then upside down, gripping her hair and putting it into a knot.
When she brings her head upright again...she feels someone behind her. Isis pauses. Her leg still raised. There is no mirror before her, just a brick wall like the rest of the joint. Quickly she uses her leg to perform a turning maneuver to injury the person. Using force and precision.
They're taller then me...go higher.
Her ankle is caged into a fist before it hits the person's face.
"Sloppy." A man says tauntingly. "Here I thought you were in the top three."
Isis turns her head to see Alexander Key, a tall, light haired, James Bond-ish man....a former partner. An old lover. "Return to Circle 7, I have this under control." Her tone goes irritable.
He lets her ankle go...but not before stroking it lightly with his thumb. "Right now you do...in a few seconds, I'm not so sure."
"Why are interfering?"
"Because I know something you don't." Alexander invades her personal space...coming face to face. His breaths brush her cheeks.
Isis glares at him. "And what is that?"
He eyes the door alertly, not taking his eyes off of it as he responds. "We have to kill everyone here."
