Amelia hung up the order for Cam, who washed his hands again before grabbing it and getting started on cooking. Meanwhile, the bartender, who was a lanky, haughty man, slunk into the restaurant and plopped down grumpily, his pale, thin face pulled into a deep frown.
Ava frowns when she sees the bartender arrive. Something about him automatically sets her on edge. It’s his face that unsettles her, she decides this after a moment of consideration. Glancing away from the man, she decides that it’s best not to be caught staring as to avoid putting any attention into herself.
The man sat up as Amelia brought him drink orders, which he filled right away by setting out trays with the order and cups. The woman hurried around as fast as she could, being the only waitress in the area so far.
Watching all of the commotion, Ava does feel a bit bad for the waitress. The poor woman is the only waitress in the area at the moment and it’s getting busy. Looking at her wallet again, she decides that she’ll have enough left over to leave a good tip.
The woman hurried over, looking happy and awake at her job. She kade sure to stay away from the girl's companion.
"All done? Need the check?"
“Yeah, the check would be great.” Ava nods her head. Once more, Kreja growls at the poor waitress, earning himself a flick on the ear for his poor manners.
Amelia glanced down at the dog, nodded, then scurried off again to yelp the order at the bartender, who huffed and started printing a receipt. The woman went off to grab a few people and sit them down.
Ava speaks quietly to Kreja, disappointed in his terrible behavior. It's so unlike him. While she waits for the check, she continues to pet the dog. It's an attempt to keep him calm until they're able to get out of the restaurant.
The bartender finished printing the check, plopped in a couple mints for her and stood up himself, stalking across th restaurant and plopping down the menu rather grumpily.
"Thank you for coming," He sighed softly, turned, and walked away again.
Eyeing the bartender warily, she watches as he plops down the check and stalks away. What a delightful man. With a slight eye roll, she pulls out some money to pay for the meal before standing. “Let’s go, darling.” She tells Kreja as she steps away from the table.
The bartender huffed as a heavyset man plopped down on one of the dark-colored stool.
"Don't you think it's a little early to start drinking?" The skinnier man asked warily as he poured the heavy man a drink nevertheless.
Ava leads the way out of the restraunt, taking a deep breath of the salty air upon stepping outside. She's always loved spending time at the beach. "Time to go home." She comments to Kreja. It's a long walk back into the part of the city where they reside so they really should get going.
She was greeted out by a new face standing at the greeter's station. The sun was higher in the sky which glimmered attractively on the sea not too far away. To her left, as she walked, cool AC breezes brushed against her skin.
(So, what now?)
(We could have them meet at night? They could both have the same target to kill?)
(Oh, ya, that sounds nneat.)
(Okay, great! Do you want to start or shall I?)
(Could you?)
(Yeah, sure.)
(Thanks)
A full moon hangs in a sky, stars twinkling along side it, illuminating the night. Ava observes the beautiful stone townhouse in front of her from the alleyway across the street as she finishes braiding her long blonde hair. Clad in black leather, she blends in well with her environment, making a sneak attack a good option. Any moment now, her target will be emerging from the house to head to a nearby bar. She doesn't plan on letting him arrive at his destination. It's been a couple of weeks since she started to watch the man. As someone who abuses his wife and children, the man is a perfect target. She has a checklist and if someone meets most or all of the criteria, they die. It's a simple but effective system. Reaching into her pocket, she grips the handle of one of the many knifes she has on her person. Just a few more minutes to wait.
Cameron was relaxing in the shadow of an AC unit, his mask pulled down and hanging nonchalantly under his chin as he chewed on a pistol, spinning his actual weapon, a sniper rifle, in his broad, black gloved hands. He was listening for noises below for his Contract for the night, given to him by the company he worked for. The man was known for committing massive tax crimes, and Cameron was about to deliver the retribution. He scooted forward as he heard crunchings approach, squinting and pulling up his mask, dropping the pistol lightly onto the ground below him.
When the front door to the townhouse opens, Ava fixes the black and red mask on her face and gets ready. The man, seemingly unaware of the danger that he's in, strolls outside and starts to walk down the street without a care in the world. It infuriates him that such a horrible person can go through his life without any consequences. She expertly spins the knife in her gloved hand before silently moving forward. Sticking to the shadows, she follows him until he reaches an area where the streetlights are out and there are no cameras. Now is her chance. She picks up her pace and approaches him from behind, not making a sound.
Cameron laid down quickly and set up his gun, quietly cocking it and watching under his scope for the perfect time. He held his breath. Three… two… one…
Just as her knife was about to plunge into her unsuspecting prey, a bullet wizzed down and caught him straight in the head, making him fly to the side, and her arm fly out pointlessly.
The bullet lodges in the man's head and he drops lifeless to the ground. Ava snarls in frustration and whirls around to see where the shot came from. This was supposed to be her kill! She quickly evaluates the area until she figures out the best possibility as to where it came from. Tightening her grip on her knife, she disappears into the shadows and starts to head to the sniper's nest. No one takes out her targets and gets away with it.
Cameron grinned, not having seen the angry shadow nor heard the snarl as he got up, snatching up his pistol and fleeing to the edge of the building, where he lept off of a windowsill, then curled up in a quick front-flip. He started at an easy jog, his huge boots hitting the ground quietly as he strung his rifle back over his shoulder on a strap, and hid his pistol away for any quick skirmishes.