Welcome to Gaia! ::

(( xd I love how you got her hopes up like that; "her real prince charming arriving...!" xDDD))

The reply to Tiffany was this:

it won't be DONe by me. probably, wonT be done by me. how, an accidenT. wheRe, wherever is convenient. when, as soon as possible. why. thats the qUeSTion... That is the questiON, Yes indeed.

After all these text messages, 'Jasmine' would be sure to destroy her mobile phone and sprinkle its crushed, powdered remains in the soup of some restaurant - the evidence to be eaten by unsuspecting diners.

Elsa was now with her new hostage - Claire. They were in a pitch black room, and Claire was wearing night vision goggles to survey Claire. The woman was sleeping, handcuffed to the rail of a bed provided for her.

((Nighty. 2:47, in the A.M., here. burning_eyes ))

Jasmine leaned back and opened a can of Dr. Pepper, happy with herself and what she had managed to accomplish. "Let's see," she mused, pausing to sip the soft drink, "The detective and his wife. Our friend the double agent, and that cop he had a fiasco with. The warehouse where some big fight occurred - the was all over the news, though they were mentioning some cover-up about an accident.... Tiffany, Tony, too. Who else...?"

The beautiful assassin was wearing black silk pants, which ended at the ankles with large, roomy cuffs, and black fur sewn into the ankles and the waist. Her shirt was a large, red turtleneck sweater, but it was unusually thick, not to mention the color being unusual for Jasmine to wear, as well. She could probably walk right into the Mafia headquarters, or the police station, and no one would even guess that she was the assassin. How lovely, lovey.

Her hair was pulled back and held with a large, black clip, so it seemed to fall straight down her back with no visible, detectable hair accessory. Her shoes were nice, warm boots. The sweater went halfway down to her knees.

Suffice to say, the forecasts for a New York night was: cold. That was when Elsa began the day; hardly at dusk, and she stayed up all night long. Doing... work. She wore no makeup, and no jewelry. That was distracting, and she did not need baubles to look beautiful. It was in her features.

And Alfone, of course. She had already ruined his life, in more ways than one. There was the Don, and the chief of police... she had yet to mess with either of them. And, of course, her 'good friends,' the Hellz Fire gang. What a bunch of clowns. Kanu was nothing without her two prime lackeys, the brute and the magician.

How could she humble the Don, and stress the chief? There was one way for both... but, unfortunately, Jasmine required a little more tact in her games. Manipulation, is the name of the game.

She left the apartment Claire was being held in, and walked down the hall, stopping at the elevator.

Once downstairs, she crossed the foyer, passing an empty front desk/registry, and entered an 'employees only' door. Inside, was a room full of equipment. Claire sat down in a rolling chair and rolled across the room.

Hell, she rolled back and forth a couple times. It was fun. But, settling down to business, she rolled to a special phone that was hooked into the wall. It was untraceable, because it didn't exist. Specialized equipment, and the phone didn't have its own number. You could only call from it, because no phone number in existence would track it down. Therefore, it was untraceable.

Elsa placed a call to the NYPD, chief Arthur whats-his-name. Her cell phone was upstairs, in the apartment, on a table, next to three loaves of bread and a container of mustard. She had walked out before it had returned a reply.

((Iris is her 'special friend?' xD))

((Who called Iris? Oh, I guess I'll know soon enough.))

These were the longest five minutes of Beans' life. He was unconscious, and the blood pooled in the floor was spreading dangerously far. Smoke was beginning to come from the oven, in which cookies were slowly transforming into lumps of coal. A spew of night sounds drifted in from the broken window. Beans' eyes were closed, and he drifted... drifted... began to drift away....

~

"N-no, no please!" Squealed a young man, hiding behind his newlywed wife. Bubba almost laughed, at the high-pitch tone that the man had. He did laugh when the woman threw some curse words at him, had the deepest voice you could imagine, and kicked Bubba without a second thought.

Must be a Russian b***h.

Bubba grabbed the woman's throat, and the man ran. The woman, however, grabbed his own throat, and they stood there, in a standoff. She was... surprisingly strong!

But Bubba had another weapon. His mechanical eye slowly disengaged itself from his empty eye socket and, while being watched fearfully by two feminine eyes, crawled down Bubba's arm, towards its victim.

The Russian woman's screams were now entirely girly, and Bubba didn't have to lift a finger to help kill her. A pity.

Well, Beans wasn't going anywhere.

Bubba lugged the body bag into his truck, in which he drove to a construction site near the wharf. It was deserted, at the moment. Apparently, nobody wanted to work in the middle of the night. Go figure.

Bubba tossed the bag over his shoulder, and walked into the construction site. There would be no easy explanation for how this body had died, and by what weapon... so Bubba wouldn't leave any trace of that.

The night was filled with the sounds of a wood chip grinder firing away.

A message screen may or may not have popped up on Jazmines laptop.

well hello, unknown entity. did you think you were to sSmart for your own goOdness? do not be alarmed. WE here wonder Where it is you reside, my dear. And- of course you will be reluctaNT to tell us- But Surely yOu of all people May undErstand Our predicameNt..but if maybE you Don't. arE Anonymous people stupiD?

-$nakebites.