The struggling stopped as the woman's arms fell limply to her sides. The silk noose had finally tightened enough. The target's head slumped forward and her long blonde hair now covered her face, her skin already taking on the pallor of death. One of the sleeves of her pink cocktail dress hung off her shoulders and the black high heels had slipped off her feet. She had two small children and a wonderful husband; they would be home later that evening. Her prospering modeling career cut short. Deci did not really care about all that though; she had wronged someone, and that person had paid for it to look like a suicide. He quickly put her shoes back on, took her to the balcony, positioning the body to face forward he placed her hands on the rail. The police would pick up the prints during the investigation. He let her body fall over. The trick was to have as little time as possible between the murder and the splat, no coroner could tell the difference in time of death. It wasn't as flashy or as exciting as his previous job, honestly, he felt nothing could live up to that job's magnificence, but he could not pick and choose his jobs, at least not yet.
He slipped the silk scarf around his neck surveying the room for any signs of a struggle, not that he expected any. She had been half a bottle deep in wine, a routine he had noticed as he surveilled her, one hell of a night cap. She had barely put up a fight, seeing as how he had wrapped her hands in her dress, a technique that prevented scratches and fiber transfer. He saw none and turned to leave, closing the bathroom door behind him, screams were already wafting through the balcony window. He stepped into the center of the tiled room and vanished.
He reappeared in the uncarpeted area of the living room a satisfied sigh escaping him at the familiar surroundings. He grabbed the bottle of wine he had placed in the bucket before he left and began pouring it into a glass. His mind replayed the job involuntarily and he couldn't help but be unreasonably annoyed at it simplicity. "That was boring." he muttered, before grabbing the television remote and turning on the television to admire his more admiral work. He heard someone behind him. He went on the offensive, adrenaline coursing through his veins; it was obviously not Typhon who was currently on his own job and anyone else would wish they were dead when he was through with them.
He turned, every muscle in his body poised to attack. He stared, intrigued, when his gaze was met by the brown eyes of the girl from the elevator. He never forgot a face. Deici's gaze became mischievous, and a smile tugged the corner of his lips. "We meet again."
He waited, wanting to see the girl's reaction, realizing she most likely saw him teleport in. Who was she? What was her name? Why was she in his apartment? He would make this fast, incapacitate her, teleport to the safe house and get his answers there. Her screams would be heard if he did it here and Typhon would tear him a new one. He put the glass and bottle down and studied her more closely looking for an opening. A look of recognition crossed her face and she looked confused for a moment. Then tears welled in her eyes, and she walked towards him, slowly at first then with a purpose. Before he knew it she was touching him, then hugging him, crying on his shoulder. "I never thought I would see someone I met alive from that day." she mumbled on his chest. "WTF!" was all he could whisper as his mind tried to understand what was happening.
.....
Ayla pull yourself together! She stepped back and released her grip on the silver eyed man who had brought a flood of emotions racing back, feelings she thought she had buried in the depths of her mind and soul. It had only been a few weeks; she should have known that they lurked closer to the surface than she wanted to admit. She looked ashamedly up at him. He looked just as perplexed as she was ashamed, the smile on his lips frozen and awkward. "I'm sorry," she choked out. His smile faltered and he took on a more serious expression, his silver eyes carving her up.
"May I ask what you are doing in my apartment?" Even his voice sounded different, there was an edge to it that wasn't there before, was he angry?
"I'm the new helper, I just finished and was leaving when...." Her voice trailed off at the memory. She replayed it again and again, he had not used the door, he had teleported into the living room, in the spot without carpet. Her eyes widened and she couldn't hold his gaze "You teleported into the living room!" "But why? How? That should not be possible." And she was right. No such technology existed and regulations on testing facilities was STRICT to say the least. Anyone so much as caught attempting to study ways to do it were either immediately arrested, ended up 'committing suicide' or disappeared. She looked up in time to see a blur of movement, then everything went dark.
Deici sent an encoded message, took Ayla in his arms and vanished. "Typhon meet me at the safe house."