The Rogue Model

lukeminherexx

"An underwear model," the agent asked, looking the man over. He was hired to kill this guy, for whatever reason. He was warned, the man was dangerous, especially with blades. Now, however, the gunman could barely believe it.

Luke looked into the barrel of a .44 magnum, obviously enhanced by all of the after market ware it was possessing.
Few would believe that the underwear model actually was ex-military, and even served as a special agent that hunted and killed super humans, if they posed a threat to the United States and especially it's government. However, he especially liked his blades. He was a consistant sharp shooter, but almost superhuman when it came to anything with an edge.
"They like the way I fill them out," Luke smiled and shrugged.
"Ashame I have to shoot you in the face, you are such a pretty boy," the assassin chuckled, and pulled the trigger.
The result was a big hole in the pillow Luke's head was lying on only moments before. He saw no obvious silencer on the weapon, but it made little sound.
As he moved, and as shots fired again, peppering the wall of the penthouse suite only inches behind him, Luke fired back with the 9mm he kept under his pillow, that had an obvious silencer. The shots hit center mass, but did not penetrate the dark body armor of the assassin. It did, however, knock his opponent down from the impact.
At this point Luke noted that the man's body armor was way too heavy, causing him to hesitate as he tried to regain his feet. Assassination was not this man's true job, probably more like a paid killer. The man was still trying to get a good breath of oxygen into his lungs when Luke held the nine directly at his face shield. With one bare foot, Luke shoved the .44 away.
"Care to talk," Luke asked, his semi auto point blank at the man's face, Luke in nothing but his bed pants. He was pleased he at least had that on, it could have been a bit more imbarassing, considering. Then again, who was he kidding, he was not imbarassed by much.
"Got nothing to say to you, just pull the trigger, and let's see if that little piss ant of a gun of your's penetrates," the man grunted back, regaining his wind now. Truth be told, he was not afraid to die, though he would have preferred it not at the hands of a scantly dressed pretty boy.
This brought a quick movement from Luke, which resulted in a knife into first his right shoulder, then his left shoulder, the blade expertly penetrating the crease in his armor, and severing cartledge. His arms hung all but useless, after what seemed like one fluid move.
"I am good with a gun, but I am magic with a blade," Luke smiled, and stepped back. The blood was pouring under the body armor from both wounds. To the assassin's credit, he did not even grunt, but he was outraged to find that the blade in Luke's hand was his own questionite coated knife. He looked down to it's sheath on his chest armor, and saw it empty.
"Now that we have that settled, you may want to take a seat. You are bleeding bad, and will lose consciousness soon enough," Luke said, very matter of fact like. The would be assassin knew this was not a normal contract that he took on, and should very well have heeded his employer's warnings.
Luke grabbed the man by the armor, lead him to a chair by his bed, and pushed him down into it with little effort. While the assassin was adequate in self defense, he was weakened now by his own poison from the dagger, something his mark knew nothing about. In fact, he would be dead in a few minutes, quicker than the bleeding would kill him, if indeed it would have.
"Who hired you, tell me and I will leave you here, with the police and medics on the way," Luke said, now getting dressed quickly, removing his black Ermenegildo Zegnasuit from the closet.
"Hah, well, since you figured I am hired to kill you, then you know as an assassin I will not give up my client," his words were a bit more slurred than they should have been. Luke looked him over as he slipped off his bed pants, and started dressing.
He then looked to the knife that he had tossed haphazardly onto the bed.
Poisoned, no doubt.
"Fair enough", Luke said, and once dressed, he removed the sheets from the bed, and began to bind the assassin's wounds tightly, careful not to get any blood onto his clothes.
"You won't....be....saving my life," the man slurred.
"Not trying to, you are making a mess, and obviously you wont be living through this, so no need to threaten you with death or pain. Whatever poison you had on your dagger is now doing it's job." Luke finished binding the wounds tightly. No point in worrying about circulation, his only goal was to stop the man from making more of a mess. Much of his blood soaked into his own armor, but now it was starting to drip.
"I have to at least hand it to you, whatever poison you used apparently is not painful. Most killers I have dealt with like the side effects as much as the death," he pointed out. "Which means you were not hired by any of my enemies that hate me. THEY want to see me suffer first. You, well, you were going to put me out of everyone's misery very quickly."
The assassins head rolled, then his chin settled on his chest.
He was dead.
Luke wrapped him in the blanket, and then in the bed covering, before making a quick phone call from his cell.
"Miss Sneetches, I need you to come to Chicago A.S.A.P. Never mind that, I will reimburse you. Yes, I know you are in Indianapolis. No, have Mack fly you, let him know I will pay him, he just needs to wait for us. Send a clean up team ......"

"They are a very reputable team, Luke," his P.R. Agent, Miss Sneetches advised. "No one will know they were there, and no one will know what happened."
Luke nodded, as he relaxed in the Cessna. Mack was a good pilot, and a good friend. Miss Sneetches was a good P.R. Agent, and a very good assistant. She was able to get him good jobs in the modeling business, and high paying jobs in his other businesses. She was also able to contact clean up teams that could be anywhere in the US, it seemed, in mere minutes.
"Millinium City, Mack! Did you need go back to Indianopolis, Miss Sneetches?"
"No, I was done there," Miss Sneetches smiled, and relaxed as well, reclining her seat and reading a magazine. Luke never asked her about her business. It was her business.
Mack simply gave him a thumbs up from the cockpit.
Once he was relaxed, he could wonder on who sent the assassin. His best guess was government, of whom he did have some enemies. Probably not the U.S., but Washington was not entirely out of the question.
Ah well, the plane ride would be smooth, and he could ponder on it all later. Thankfully his underwear shoot had finished a couple of days ago. He was just trying to enjoy Chicago for a couple more days. The after hours life was jumping there, but alas, all was not lost, as he could still visit Club Caprice in MC. All in all, things worked out fine. He was still alive, despite the efforts of someone else wanting him very dead.

lukeminherexx

"You are nothing but a piece of trash," the woman screamed, as Luke ducked a thrown vase.
Another 50 bucks no doubt that he would be oweing Hotel Mellinnium.
Miss Sneetches was on the phone giving him all of the details of his new job, as he quickly scrawled them down.
"You weren't that good anyway. I only stayed because you have money," she screamed at him.
A naked woman standing in one's penthouse suite was usually a good thing. One that was extremely mad because you were evicting them from said suite was not that great of a thing.
"Okay, I have the info," Luke said, ducking a thrown picture, then closing the door behind him as he quickly scooted into the bathroom. He then locked it just in time, as the pounding on the door indicated that she was not done with her tantrum.
"Problems, Luke?" Miss Sneetches asked, a bit of sarcasm in her voice.
"Nothing I can't handle," he said, then clicked to end the conversation.

"Linda, I never promised you this was forever, in fact," he started, trying to explain his position on this. However, he did make a mistake even in that.
"MY NAME IS BETTY!" she screamed and banged harder on the door.
Linda, Betty, whatever. What was in a name, right?
"Betty, I never said this was forever," he corrected. It did not have the calming effect it may have had, had he not spoken the wrong name. The door was pounded on for a bit more, probably kicked, and then he heard more crashing.

Luke opened the door and the dark haired beauty was standing there, still stark naked, with his laptop in hand. She had a grin on her face, but she was not happy in the least. It was not a "I am very happy to see you come out of the bathroom so we can talk this over peaceably," grin. No, not at all.
"Now you put that down, Barbara!" he said very sternly. It was meant to show that he had had enough, and her breaking his laptop would push him right over the edge.
In fact, it only infuriated her more, and his laptop was slammed against the wall, falling to the floor in peices, almost at the same place as the vase.
"My name, is Betty," she said again, this time lower, though Luke did not quite catch that he had once again called her by the wrong name.
Well, maybe he could save the hard drive. It appeared in better shape than the last one. Eliza busted that one. Now she was one strong woman.

Betty walked over to the rogue, then slapped his face.
"I thought I could change you, you piece of trash," she said with a sneer, then kissed him harder than he had been kissed in a long time. It was kind of nice, he thought, in a strange psycotic way.
He now heard someone banging on the door. It was hotel staff no doubt, and they were hollaring to see if Luke was okay. By the jingle of the keys, he knew they were opening the door.
Betty pulled back from him, still stark naked, and grabbed her suitcase of clothes. As the door opened, and 2 women and one man entered, the man obviously the hotel manager, a dark haired model worthy beauty strolled past them, dressed in the same clothes as the day she was born, with a small suitcase in one hand, and an IPhone in the other. She walked out into the lobby, with staff eyes watching her, and entered the elevator. As she turned around, her middle finger shot up to them, and she displayed a very sassy smile. The elevator door closed with a ding. All eyes then turned back to Luke, who was in his house pants and slippers.
Luke shrugged, displaying his handsome smile.
"Women, right," he said, then winked. He ushered the three out without a word, and closed the door behind them.
They knew already that any damage would be paid for, and they would recieve even more money for their troubles. It wasn't like this was a first, though the naked woman that was making her way to the lobby in the elevator was not exactly expected.
Luke made his way to the closet. He had a job to go on. Not the underwear model type of job, but the "got somebody that needs a killing" type of job that only Miss Sneetches could deliver.
Luke was an assassin, it was true. If the price was right. Miss Sneetches was very picky on the jobs he was sent on. Never a politician, never someone that authorities would cry over. When Luke went on a killing, it was usually someone that everyone could agree needed a killing.
As Luke opened his locked leather wardrobe bag, containing his red and black work outfit, his cell phone rang.
Luke answered, "Hello".
"See you next week?" The sultry voice asked, less disturbed and less angry than before.
"Sure, Betty," he said, and meant it. He held no ill will toward her. She was more like him than she liked to admit. For some odd reason she became enraged when Miss Sneetches called, even though Betty had no idea who Miss Sneetches was. Maybe BECAUSE she had no idea who Miss Sneetches was. She became even more mad when he pointed out that she had to go. Probably because she had no idea why she had to go. Luke could not tell her it was so he could get the information for a killing he had to do, then probably go as well.
"Need me to pay for the broken stuff?" She asked.
"Of course not," he said, and meant it. They both hung up. It was then he thought to ask her if she ever got dressed. He looked to the window, and saw the snow falling. That would not stop her for a moment. With a chuckle, he began to dress into his killer outfit.

lukeminherexx

A safehouse on the edge of the city. Pudgy "Two Gun" Salone could not help but make jokes about the fact that it was actually a house. His guards could not quite grasp the joke of it all, but to Pudgy, who lived all of his life in the city, safehouses were usually apartments, abandoned warehouses, or a little hidey hole attached to a main building.
"It's a house!" he said, several times, to the federal agents that were guarding him. They just looked at him with their normal "no emotion" glares, and said nothing.
Pudgy was not a good man. No not at all. His vices included alcohol, drugs, prostitutes, gambling, and most unfortunately on two occasions, under age girls. Neither were willing participates, but Pudgy paid them well. Well, enough for young harlots. He saw the way they were dressed, all that make up. What else were they expecting, right?
Unfortunately one of them was a somebody. Rich daddys usually were a problem. Kill their son, and they want justice. Worse yet, the criminal system suddenly jumped to attention and the wheels of justice began to turn quickly. Take their daughter, no matter how much she asked for it, then you are on a collision course with a bullet train that has it's one light trained on you.
What else could Pudgy do?
It was time to rat out some of the low lifes he worked with. It wasn't the most honorable way to get out of trouble. However, when "Two Gun" Salone started naming names and pointing out buriel grounds the feds were willing to look the other way, and the wheels of justice came to a screeching halt. The crazy thing about "justice" is that as long as you held a better hand up for it to play, it was not quite as blind as people thought.

The feds were boring stiff necked types that not only did not have a humor, they probably had no idea what humor was. Pudgy really did hope this was not what his life was going to be after this was all over. They promised him a new life, a new name, a new place to live, a new job, blah blah blah. Truth be told, Pudgy didn't care about all of that. He was "Two Gun", and if anyone wanted retribution, he was willing to offer them the target. One would not think that a short fat bald man like pudgy would be much of a killer. Truth be told, that was one way of keeping people off their toes. Underestimating him was habitiual to society, and quite fun when he looked his would be killers in the eye, and smiled at their disbelief of their new perdicament.
"Stay away from the window," agent Right said, eyeing Pudgy.
"Yeah? Wouldn't want to lose your favorite witness, would you?" Pudgy grinned, but stepped away from the window. "If this place is so safe why would you be worried on that?"
"Shut up and stay away from the window," Right answered.
Two weeks now he had to endure this. No way anyone spoke to him like that in his circle. These cops were a pain, but unfortunately, a necessity until the trial was over. He already ratted two bosses out, and they were in jail, evidence stacked high against them. Killing Two Gun was the least of their worries, as his death would not change their situation one bit. Pudgy knew the game well enough. Instead, they were focusing their attention on doing away with evidence, bribing officials, threatening possible other witnesses and trying to get bail set by a judge so they could run as far and as fast as possible. Two Gun would only be hunted down once it was over. He was not a witness to the murders, he simply knew where the bodies were buried.
Of course he did. He got paid good money to dispose of such things. With the bodies now found, it would not help them to have Pudgy killed.
With all of that going through his mind, the gunfire coming from the back of the house was a bit of a shock.

lukeminherexx

The agent and the criminal stood in the living room, both of their eyes on him. Neither looked particularly scared, but both looked very shocked.
"Hello gentlemen," he smiled, and strolled into the room. It was then that the agent grabbed for his S&W .45 modified handgun. Before he could fire a throwing knife sunk deep into his forearm, causing him to miss his target by a full inch, sending a hollow point whistler into the wall right by Luke. These were hero killers, able to penetrate almost anything due to the refined Questionite that coated the tip. This is actually what caused the whistle, hince, the street name for them was "whistlers".
Agent Right slunk back, grabbing his bleeding arm, and eyeing the new intrudor. The man was dressed in a red and black outfit, with a red cape on. A smile on his handsome face.
"You only have minutes before back up arrives," Agent Right sneered.
Pudgy was going for the gun by this time, having recovered from the shock of the incident. This man may have looked like a clothes model, but he was an obvious assassin. And apparently not a bad one, since he got passed the federal agents surrounding the house. Pudgy knew the reputation of Agent Right as well, and he was one bad cop, in the sense, that no one messed with him. However, Right was out of the picture, nursing a bladed arm.

Pudgy drew back a nub, as Luke crossed the distance between him and the frantic thug, severing the offending hand that reached for the weapon. Agent Right leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes in apparent pain and dizziness, as Pudgy screamed in pain and shock.
It was just Pudgy "Two Gun" Salone and the assassin now.
"You like to hurt little girls, or so I am told," Luke said, as he put the point of the blade against the criminals throat, lifting his head to look him in the eye. Pudgy was breathing hard, eyes filled with tears from the pain.
"I dont know what you are talking about," he sobbed, eyes wild and frantic, darting around hoping for someone to save his miserable hide.
"No, you dont? So you think what you did is not hurting them? What you did is not going to harm them and their parents for the rest of their lives?" With his free hand, Luke pulls out a photo of a pretty 12 year old dressed up for some holiday, or maybe even church.
Pudgy just looked at the picture, and it was apparent he recognized the girl.
Good, that was part of the contract. The tiny video recording in his cape pin would catch it all.
"I, I am trying to make good for that. I know I cant change it, I know that." The man began to plead. "But I am trying to make up for it. I already gave away two bodies that I knew where they were, and I want to make it good."
"Well, that is a start," Luke said, and caught the glance of the supposedly now passed out agent.
"But much more has been required my friend," Luke said, and with a spin, the blade came around and dismantled the criminals head from his shoulders. Luke watched as it bounced across the room. The arms and hands of the body frantically swung about, as the last desperate cry to protect it's precious life sounded through the now mindless body.
Luke reached up and turned off his camera.

"You really had to put a blade into my arm," Agent Right asked, grunting at the pain. He would have fought on had he wanted to. He had no desire to protect this maggot that the system was allowing to walk. He knew the family of one of his victims, something the agency had no idea about.
"It will be great for the video," Luke replied, looking at the horror stricken face of Two Gun.
"Will put me out of work for the next few months though," Right called, then looked to the door. "What about my other guys. You didn't...?"
"Of course not. I simply dropped a sleep pill among them in the house, that dissipates within seconds. The outer perimeter has no idea I am even here." He assured the agent.
"What about the gun fire?"
"One of your guys was really quick with a gun. He fired wildly before he passed out."
Right nodded.
"Agent Wong will be here any moment," he said, and hit a panic button attached to his belt.
"Right and Wong, you make quite a pair," Luke said with a chuckle. "And your house cameras?"
"You knocked them out with some kind of an electric pulse, dont you know," he said, with his own grin.
Luke nodded.
"Take care of that arm. You will recieve compensation for that, and for any further injury."
"What further..." but before Right could finish, the hilt of a sword connected on the side of his head, knocking him unconcious.
Luke waited until he heard sirenes and horns approaching. He had to make it look good. He ran to the back of the house, and with a few button mashes on his own belt, he called his hover disc to his exact location.

Agent Wong watched as someone on a hover disc soared into the air, straight up, until the naked eye could see him no more. Sharpshooters were attempting to take aim, but he would be gone before they could take a shot at him.
"Get inside and see what we got," he hollared, motioning around to each to move. His friend, best friend at that, Agent Right, was in the building. He had to make sure he was okay.