Enemies? Friends? Who the hell Knows.. [Cecilia]

[Deleted]

Hmph...

That was the only thing that could be heard as a Man known as Carlo Benigo walked through the airport. Just flying in from the capital, the man was dressed in a pure black suit and looked like a secret agent right from Hollywood. But this detective was rather world renowned for his brutality and just assholeish attitude to almost everyone. Some claimed they knew of a time when that man was actually someone whom was pleasant to speak with and such, but unfortunately that time had long since passed and now they were left with a shell of the man that he used to be. Dedicating his time to work and more work rather than letting loose for a while. An easily angered man, and an easier to annoy. Nobody knew what really made him that way, but the time he became so cold he came back from a mission alone and he requested that his missions were solo only from that day forth. From that day on he dedicated every waking moment of his life to his work, and it showed, he kept his body in top condition by keeping his work up 24/7.

He exited the airport and sighed, he was to meet his new partner at the local restaurant. That would be fun. It had seemed someone had driven his black Cadillac all the way here, and filled up the tank for him. He'd have to thank the person for putting a ton of miles onto his vehicle when he got back. His sharp eyes scanned the interior of his car to make sure nothing was out of place and fortunately nothing had been moved. Getting In however he opened a latch on the ceiling and saw his guns were still there with all of his ammo. Thank god, nobody had touched anything in his car. Carlo hated people who dared mess with anything in his car and well you could say the car was the love of his life. It was the only object that he showed some form of pride in or affection towards. As he drove into the city it became apparent why the federal government sent him and this other agent here. There were absolutely no policemen out patrolling the city, and he groaned. Oh he was going to whip that police agency into shape as he did with so many other of the police forces he had come across. They'd learn not to piss off this detective, he was a former marine core head officer. He wouldn't let these lazy ass cops off easily.

Woman or Man he didn't care those police officers were going to get it. There seemed to be a recent arson in an old warehouse here in the city and yet there was no police or fire staff on the scene trying to figure out what happened. A low growl exited his throat as he continued on towards the restaurant. Carlo was going to tear up the town and take it by storm like he did many times before, no little cop was going to stop him either. His badge was in his pocket as he came to a police check on vehicles entering the uptown area of the city. Flashing his badge and narrowing his eyes the police sat there and backed off immeadiately. They seemed to know that they were in a huge amount of trouble if the feds have come to the city. His eyes stared forward and he continued to drive until the restaurant came into his field of vison. God he would hate his time here, all he wanted to do is get back home where he could be

Alone.

[cecilia]

IT WAS NEVER EASY — getting used to a new place. The woman was one whose private life was built solely upon habits; wake up at three, go for a run, take a shower, feed the dog, watch the news, read the newspaper, have breakfast, go to work, grab a coffee on the way. The patterns of her personal life were memorized and relatively permanent – very unlike those of her work life. Work life for Cecilia Sinclair was an entirely different story. If it had to be defined as one word alone, it would be this one: unpredictable[/u].

Always, Cecilia’s work life toed the line between that which was work, and that which lay behind the firmly closed doors of her solitary life. She was a federal agent – a special agent, a spy. Her job was all-inclusive to her life. Very little belonged to her alone. Naturally, Celia coveted that which was hers. Her dog. Her routine. And yet, every now and again, Work Life would take even these simple things from her by stepping out of bounds. What made it worse? In this game she played, Work always got the foul shot for its own overstep. And it was this foul shot, this play of God by the only thing she truly allowed to rule over her life, that made it so in an instant, everything she had grown used to, comfortable with, even fond of – from the map of the streets she jogged, to the brand of food she bought for Samson – because of her dedication to her job, it all changed forever.

Cecilia had relocated before – as a matter of fact, she’d done so far too many times for even a detail-oriented woman such as herself to count. Even centuries of it didn’t make it easier, however; the only routine she had never gotten used to was her life’s ultimate lack of one. Now, as she sat, swirling a spoon around in black sugary hot liquid, waiting at a tall table for two in a restaurant called ‘Bénédictine’, she could scarcely help but to think:

"Not only do I have scratch to start with, but now, I have to share it.”

She pitied the fool who would be sitting down across from her – wait. No. She hated the fool. They were a fool, after all, just for existing. Because they existed, Cecilia Sinclair, the one-woman-team, was no longer a one-woman-team. She would be a partner - an insignificant team. An actual team. One could not describe in words how furious that made the easily angered, combat-oriented lady. Yes, it was possible that Cecilia’s new “partner” was the biggest fool in history, for daring to be part of the situation that so greatly angered such a woman. If it weren’t for the relatively constricting black dress she was donned in along with her generally fancied up state of being, she would have hunted down the person directly responsible for it all that very instant and mauled them extensively, returning to the restaurant afterwards to do the same to the person waiting at the for-two table. Extreme? For her? Not a bit. But, as it were, she was hungry, and nicely dressed up. The start of her vengeance upon the world could wait until after desert. Or, at least, the second course.

A bell on the door rang above the snazzy music that was playing - immediately her head turned, and eyes, in slits, locked onto the figure being directed her way...
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