Vittore Montegue
Jul 2nd, 2010, 01:06:00 PM
"Uh-oh. We may have a complication here."
The spoon dove enthusiastically into Vittore's fifth bowl of Snacksteroids, the sugar and additive-laiden breakfast cereal that he'd been addicted to as a child, and over which he'd grown a little too excited when they'd spotted it in the store gathering stakeout food this morning. Dripping with blue milk - which was now mixed with purple, green, and brown, having drawn out the colourings from the Snacksteroids - the spoon shovelled yet another heap into Vittore's mouth, which he crushed against his pallette with his tongue, squeezing out and swallowing the milk before proceeding to chew the gooey mess that remained.
"Uh-huh?" he responded, between mouthfuls, readying his spoon for another delivery.
"Yeah. Looks like our mark isn't in there alone: he's there with some hot chick."
If there was one thing in the 'verse that was absolutely guarenteed to distract Vittore from eating - and it really was a case of one, or maybe two things in the entire universe that could do it - it was the prospect of staring at a 'hot chick' through electrobinoculars. So successful was its distraction in fact that he dove for the window, scattering his bowl, spoon, and their contents across the rooftop he'd selected as his vantage point. His shoulder impacted heavily with the duracrete, but he didn't care; snatching up the binoculars, he focussed in on the alley where their mark had been waiting idly for some time.
Were Vittore an elloquent, sophisticated individual, he could no doubt have come up with a variety of ways to describe the encapsulating beauty of the woman he trained his eyes on. Comparisons to angels on Iego might have sprung to mind; or to cascading waterfalls of gold that emulated the way her hair trailed across her shoulders; or the crystal clarity of eyes that shone like stars. Unfortunately, Vittore was decidedly not a sophisticated individual, and all he managed to muster was an impish grin as his electrobinoculars' aim dropped from her face to her chest.
"Keep your eyes on the mark, Cam," he instructed, struggling to wrench the device away from his face, but eventually succeeding. He let them hang around his neck while he quickly gathered up his other gear and shoved them into his bag, before setting about dismantling the sniper rifle that had been waiting beside him on the roof. "I'm gonna move into position to intercept her."
"Why the hell do you need to do that?" Cam's voice whined through the earpiece. Like he didn't know.
Even so, Vittore mustered up an excuse. "She's talking to our target, idiot," he shot back, slinging his kit bag over his shoulder, and rising slightly to squint peer last time over the rim of the rooftop with the binoculars. You know. Just to confirm her position. And that her breasts hadn't changed at all. Good job he did, mind: she'd already finished her conversation apparently, and was already walking away. "We need to find out who she is," he explained to his brother. "Make sure we don't have to kill her too."
The spoon dove enthusiastically into Vittore's fifth bowl of Snacksteroids, the sugar and additive-laiden breakfast cereal that he'd been addicted to as a child, and over which he'd grown a little too excited when they'd spotted it in the store gathering stakeout food this morning. Dripping with blue milk - which was now mixed with purple, green, and brown, having drawn out the colourings from the Snacksteroids - the spoon shovelled yet another heap into Vittore's mouth, which he crushed against his pallette with his tongue, squeezing out and swallowing the milk before proceeding to chew the gooey mess that remained.
"Uh-huh?" he responded, between mouthfuls, readying his spoon for another delivery.
"Yeah. Looks like our mark isn't in there alone: he's there with some hot chick."
If there was one thing in the 'verse that was absolutely guarenteed to distract Vittore from eating - and it really was a case of one, or maybe two things in the entire universe that could do it - it was the prospect of staring at a 'hot chick' through electrobinoculars. So successful was its distraction in fact that he dove for the window, scattering his bowl, spoon, and their contents across the rooftop he'd selected as his vantage point. His shoulder impacted heavily with the duracrete, but he didn't care; snatching up the binoculars, he focussed in on the alley where their mark had been waiting idly for some time.
Were Vittore an elloquent, sophisticated individual, he could no doubt have come up with a variety of ways to describe the encapsulating beauty of the woman he trained his eyes on. Comparisons to angels on Iego might have sprung to mind; or to cascading waterfalls of gold that emulated the way her hair trailed across her shoulders; or the crystal clarity of eyes that shone like stars. Unfortunately, Vittore was decidedly not a sophisticated individual, and all he managed to muster was an impish grin as his electrobinoculars' aim dropped from her face to her chest.
"Keep your eyes on the mark, Cam," he instructed, struggling to wrench the device away from his face, but eventually succeeding. He let them hang around his neck while he quickly gathered up his other gear and shoved them into his bag, before setting about dismantling the sniper rifle that had been waiting beside him on the roof. "I'm gonna move into position to intercept her."
"Why the hell do you need to do that?" Cam's voice whined through the earpiece. Like he didn't know.
Even so, Vittore mustered up an excuse. "She's talking to our target, idiot," he shot back, slinging his kit bag over his shoulder, and rising slightly to squint peer last time over the rim of the rooftop with the binoculars. You know. Just to confirm her position. And that her breasts hadn't changed at all. Good job he did, mind: she'd already finished her conversation apparently, and was already walking away. "We need to find out who she is," he explained to his brother. "Make sure we don't have to kill her too."