→ phantom in the night

Deiter was not sure what he was even doing there. Ever since Milena was killed, he had questioned his place within the Syndicate. Up until now, he had been a mere errand boy, feeling her and Sera information they asked for, and perhaps a little more when the intel was too good to withhold. It was never a question of who’s side he would prefer to be on, having already built a dislike of the Vittori’s not only from what he had been told about them, but also what he had found out they had done. The question more so for him was simple: Am I stationary or am I going to move up? And was trying to move up something he really wanted to do with his life, with everything that would put on the line. Saying yes to a few more jobs was how he was going to figure himself out.

It was new to him, the lurking in the shadows waiting to meet with someone. Someone he did not even have a name for. They were each just given a location and a time to meet, like something from the crime movies he had loved as a child. Trying to keep an eye on the time was getting harder as it grew darker, not wanting to give away his position to anyone with a sudden flash of light. As nervous as he felt inside, he could not ignore the thrill that came with this assignment, realization dawning on him that this was one of the reasons people did what he was doing. Each step toward the agreed spot only heightened the excitement, before his eyes landed on the person in questioning, widening slightly as recognition hit him. Squaring his shoulders, he made sure that none of the nerves inside read on his exterior. “You were definitely not who I was expecting.”

“I could say the same thing”, the words fell from her lips with little to no regard of holding back. Channing stepped forward, dropping the hood back to its place between her shoulders. She had hid in the darkness as her alter ego for so long, had gotten so used to being two different people so situations such as this never happened. So the people she spent her time with were never the wiser, so no one knew the blood that she dipped her fingers into willingly. Deiter was only ever supposed to know her as the flower shop owner, the girl who had no shame in flirting with him as she tucked a little white flower behind his ear. Not this. Part of her almost ached at the idea of him knowing, Channing had found enjoyment in his belief that she was truly as good as the act she put on. Suddenly self conscious, Channing’s fingers reached up to brush at the dried blood on her cheek. But the damage was done, vile acts that she was known for had a face for Deiter and it was hers.

Channing swallowed, gaze remaining glued to his as the quiet of the night threatened to swallow them whole. There were so many questions to be answered on both sides, she was sure, but picking the right ones to ask right now was a task on its own. Her lips parted and closed, the process repeating herself as she reflected back on his kind words and glances. “What are you doing here?”, she finally asked, though it was meant to be deeper. What was he doing here, on this roof top, meeting her after she killed a man? Why did he want her to kill a man? Her fingers moved to grasp the knife concealed in the band of her pants, her mind going to a darker place. Maybe his kind eyes were just a trick, the same way her flowers had been. And Channing was the fool who fell for it. 

“No one except you, I’d imagine,” he replied, unable to hold in a small chuckle as he spoke, his eyes darting around the shop before landing back on her. The thoughts from their first encounter came flooding back, turning the annoyance of the errand into something more of a grateful nature. “I’m going to let you guess which one I mean,” he replied, his grin growing into more of a mischievous smirk as he spoke. Between the seriousness of work conversations, piled on to the seriousness of his conversations centered on the Syndicate, he found that he enjoyed simple moments like this. There was no play for him, just simply enjoying talking to the woman in front of him. Which was something that become rare for him even before he moved back home. “But unfortunately, I’m the new guy and we’re between interns, so here I am. Asking for your help,” he sighed, trying not to laugh at himself for how cheesy that line was. “Seriously though, I hardly know the woman, so I have no idea what to get her. What’s something safe for someone you’re not sure about their preferences?”

Channing let an amused laugh out, shrugging her shoulder carelessly. “I guess you could say that. Though, I’d like to say I know flowers better than I know people. Flowers are much easier,”, she confessed with a rare moment of honesty laced within the facade she wore in the day to day. People were complex and difficult, sometimes predictable and sometimes impossible to read. People, by definition, were puzzles meant to be solved. But that came with emotions and heartbreak. Even now, trying to read the smile that played on Deiter’s lips sent conflicting emotions and assumptions through the blonde. “Well where is the fun in guessing? I’m a girl who likes to know”, she tossed over her shoulder, turning to hide the wide smile daring to pull at her lips. “Safe? That would definitely be something along the lines of daisies or tulips”, Channing confessed as her steps carried her over to the flowers that seemed to illuminate a nook of her shop in bright colors. “I’m personally a fan of tulips in that category, but if you want my opinion I’d say do something along the lines of sunflowers. Every girl wants to be given a sunflower once in their life, even if its for a birthday”, she mused with a grin, gentle finger tips caressing the bright yellow petals. 

To the untrained eye, there was something beautiful about the city as the sun set. When the lights of the buildings and streets began to flicker on, but the architecture was still bathed in the glow of the setting suns. The purples and oranges of the sky a stark contrast to the darkness that began to swallow the city. To the untrained eye, it was nothing short of a masterpiece at work. But Channing Marx’s eyes were far from untrained. She knew too well of the grime and filth that walked the city as the light faded into black. Those were her people, her income, and her passion. They were the ones who prevented the mundane.

The whiskey in her glass touched her lips as emerald orbs turned to the man approaching, the new king of interesting, so to say. An old acquaintance with new power, Channing could practically smell it from across the room. The blonde sat up a bit straighter, uncrossing and recrossing her legs at the knees as he approached. Years had passed since they had last been face to face, the job that had brought them out of the shadows was forgotten upon her. Zephyr Jackson, however, could never be forgotten. “Looks like all these passing years have been good to you”, she mused, setting her glass between them. “Settling into the new role well?” It never hurt to have a few pleasantries before business was discussed.

The job came like they all do. Just a faceless demand for information and request for silence. It was always silence that was the stipulation for those of weak stomach and strong heart. True silence and peace of mind was something that was only possible through death, at least as Channing was taught. As long as air passed through their lips, so could words. Death had never been something that she shied away from, it was simply part of the job. A job that she had become quite skilled at over the years. This task appeared just as any other did, nothing more than a get in and get out with what I want type of situation. As the blonde tucked back into the shadows, the blood that stained her cheek lost into the shadow of her hood as Channing ventured away from the business building and to the agreed rendezvous point.

The night was beautiful, in a wicked sort of way, as the full moon hovered so low in the sky that the rooftop was bathed in its glow. Still, the fixer hung in the shadows awaiting the temporary business partner to show their face.   The part of the deal that always assured her safety and her secrecy, it was always easier to kill prey from the shadows. Whether or not this person would be another prey tonight was yet to be determined. At least, it was until the door cracked and her eyes turned to the face emerging into the suddenly now eerie glow of the moon. Channing was left stunned as the charming smile and handsome eyes she had enjoyed partaking in during their brief exchanges stood in anticipation of her arrival. How could it be? He was too innocent, too kind for a deal of this nature. Or, was he like her, merely a vapor in the sun waiting to be interpreted by whoever passed?

How he had been sent to pick up flowers instead of an intern was beyond him. Maybe it was part of the ‘new guy hazing’ he swore was going on for far too long. Flowers had never been his forte, so he was always happy to take advice from the people who worked in the shops. And when he walked into the particular shop he was sent to, he knew that he was more than happy to get her advice. Any excuse to talk to the beautiful woman he had literally run into the other week. Walking up to her, a sheepish smile made its way across him lips. “Would you believe me if I said my boss send me to get a bouquet for someone’s birthday, and I have no idea where to start?”

It took no more than a second for Channing to realize just who had walked through her door that morning. The charming smile and handsome eyes were all too difficult to miss, effortlessly seeming to whisk away all attention she had focused anywhere else previously. The thought of poisons and plans were sat on the back burner as the blonde dusted her fingers off on the jeans she wore. “Well that seems a bit like a trick question”, she offered, a wicked grin pulling at nude lips without hesitation. “If you’re asking that I believe that you don’t know how to pick out flowers for a birthday gift, then I would absolutely believe that. No one knows how to pick out flowers for a birthday”, she started, measured steps carrying her closer to where he stood. Channing was someone who was too careful and too calculating, who often times never partook in those fleeting moments. But that day in the coffee shop had stirred a kind of curiosity inside of her, one only further ignited by his presence in her shop now. “Now, if you’re asking whether or not I’d believe your simply running an errand and this is just a chance encounter? I’d have to say that one stands on shaky ground”, Channing’s steppes stopped in front of him, nimble fingers plucking a small white bell shaped flower from a pot before out stretching it to him. “So birthday flowers?”

Emerald eyes glanced over the multicolored blooms of the foxglove that stood on either side of the entrance to the store. It was not chance that had driven her to nurture such vibrant blooms, it was a job. Poison was such an effortlessly to put an end to a threat or to destroy a mark to reach the end goal of getting paid. One bloom was all it took to throw anyone’s heart out of rhythm and into cardiac arrest, it just so happened to be that they created a rather beautiful coloring in many salads. The thought amused Channing to no end, a simple joy in a creative job well done. The only thing that burst her thought process was the presence of another being. “How can I help you today?”, she questioned, eying the other quickly.

It all started with the storm warning, something that few genuinely took serious the moment they stepped into Charlie’s. Hard to when the atmosphere felt more like a rave then it did a potentially life threatening situation. Once the doors shut and the wood went over the windows, it was like people could forget about the reality outside. The music masked the cracks of thunder, the alcohol numbed that anxiety, and people seemed to be thankful for their predicament. It was a free night out, or at least, that was what some saw. Channing on the other hand, found herself in a situation she had never expected. The blonde walked around with a drink in one hand, the other ghosting along the walls. Her eyes never stopped scanning the room, waiting for the weak points to give and for something to be done. Channing Marx was a survivor,  but there was little draw to anyone here that would drive her to do anything to risk that perfectly crafted exterior. 

That is until the weak spots caved, until the water began to fill the room, and panic started to burn away any drunken haze people suffered. Channing turned for the kitchen, eyeing an exit path when the opportunity presented itself. But that was when she saw Savannah, potentially one of her only friends in this godforsaken city. They were peas in a pod, in a way, which made Channing admire the blonde. Even if her noble ambitions would end with a bullet between the eyes. If the flood didn’t kill her first. Everything happened so quickly, but in Channing’s eye it was so slow. She watched the wood make contact, she watched the blonde dip under the rising water, and she waited. Come on Savannah, get up. But nothing. 

“Fuck”, she cursed, pushing past who she could to make it to the small window that separated the kitchen from the main room. Boots first she went, slipping through the small space to break away from the crowd. Without hesitation, she welcomed the cold water against her skin as she fell into the rising tide in hopes of getting to her friend in time. Channing wasn’t going to let anything happen to Savannah, not even if it meant risking it all