Dayspire
Explorer
Manhattan, New York
Home of Anthony Scarpetti
September 12th, 2005 10:35 am
Carla Fuentes was a looker. Nice dark hair, fit body, and a pair of lips that could melt that mutant Iceboy. Iceman. Whatever. The point was, Carla was a beautiful woman, but there was no way in hell Tony was going to touch her.
She was, after all, his parole officer.
“Anthony, look at this place!” Carla strolled around Tony’s home like it was her own, but he didn’t mind. Her way of strolling made it worth it. She picked up an empty bottle of beer and sighed. The house was something of a mess. Imported leather couches covered with magazines and newspapers, marble tables littered with a variety of dishes, and there was a slight… odor.
“The maid has the day off,” Anthony said with wry smile.
“Don’t give me that li-“
“No.” Anthony’s smirk vanished. “I’m serious. She’s off today.” Carla stopped fidgeting and looked up at him, sensing his mood. “I get bored easy, Carla. And when I get bored, I tend to make a mess.” Of course, that had many different meanings.
Carla nodded, clearly not getting it. “The real reason I’m here Mr. Scarpetti - it's about your release.”
Anthony leaned forward suddenly. “What? They takin’ it back?? They can’t -"
“No, no. Not at all! It’s just… my superiors want to know if this… Ummm.” Carla rooted around in her handbag for a moment, and pulled out a business card. “… Mr. ‘Clark’ has contacted you yet, and when you’re going to meet. The provisions in your release guarantee are quite clear.”
Anthony looked out his window that overlooked Central Park. Five grand a month to stay here, but he was looking instead at his own reflection. “Tonight. We’re meeting tonight.” His thoughts, normally disciplined, were in turmoil. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? What if I get signed up with a bunch of yahoos? There was an easy answer though. Go to the Trisk, or do this. Not that difficult a problem, really.
Carla walked over to Anthony’s desk and leaned over. “And the ‘Taskmaster’..?” She asked, her voice low and husky.
Tony's gaze never wavered. “He’s dead. Long live… The Professional.” His reflection gave back a rare smile.
Tony's eyes shifted to Carla. She was leaning over his desk with one of those smiles. Crap. How do I get myself into these situations?”
OOC: Let me know what, if anything you do to prepare for your meeting with your new employer, Mr. Henreich Clark. You’re to meet him – and the rest of your new ‘team’ tonight at 8pm, in lower Manhattan. Also, please give me a description of what you look like, equipment you have, etc.
Home of Anthony Scarpetti
September 12th, 2005 10:35 am
Carla Fuentes was a looker. Nice dark hair, fit body, and a pair of lips that could melt that mutant Iceboy. Iceman. Whatever. The point was, Carla was a beautiful woman, but there was no way in hell Tony was going to touch her.
She was, after all, his parole officer.
“Anthony, look at this place!” Carla strolled around Tony’s home like it was her own, but he didn’t mind. Her way of strolling made it worth it. She picked up an empty bottle of beer and sighed. The house was something of a mess. Imported leather couches covered with magazines and newspapers, marble tables littered with a variety of dishes, and there was a slight… odor.
“The maid has the day off,” Anthony said with wry smile.
“Don’t give me that li-“
“No.” Anthony’s smirk vanished. “I’m serious. She’s off today.” Carla stopped fidgeting and looked up at him, sensing his mood. “I get bored easy, Carla. And when I get bored, I tend to make a mess.” Of course, that had many different meanings.
Carla nodded, clearly not getting it. “The real reason I’m here Mr. Scarpetti - it's about your release.”
Anthony leaned forward suddenly. “What? They takin’ it back?? They can’t -"
“No, no. Not at all! It’s just… my superiors want to know if this… Ummm.” Carla rooted around in her handbag for a moment, and pulled out a business card. “… Mr. ‘Clark’ has contacted you yet, and when you’re going to meet. The provisions in your release guarantee are quite clear.”
Anthony looked out his window that overlooked Central Park. Five grand a month to stay here, but he was looking instead at his own reflection. “Tonight. We’re meeting tonight.” His thoughts, normally disciplined, were in turmoil. Can I do this? Do I want to do this? What if I get signed up with a bunch of yahoos? There was an easy answer though. Go to the Trisk, or do this. Not that difficult a problem, really.
Carla walked over to Anthony’s desk and leaned over. “And the ‘Taskmaster’..?” She asked, her voice low and husky.
Tony's gaze never wavered. “He’s dead. Long live… The Professional.” His reflection gave back a rare smile.
Tony's eyes shifted to Carla. She was leaning over his desk with one of those smiles. Crap. How do I get myself into these situations?”
OOC: Let me know what, if anything you do to prepare for your meeting with your new employer, Mr. Henreich Clark. You’re to meet him – and the rest of your new ‘team’ tonight at 8pm, in lower Manhattan. Also, please give me a description of what you look like, equipment you have, etc.