"Nikita" (closed)

[TiredFingers]

"Nikita"​

Hans Becker laid flat on his back, looking upwards through glazed over eyes as pain surged through his body. He chuckled, but it hurt in his chest, which likely now included at least one cracked ribs.

"Nice to see you again, Niki," he greeted the young woman standing over him. "Just like old times."

The last time Hans has seen Nikita Chen she had kicked his ass just as she had just now. That had been nearly two years ago, when she'd fled the Program.

He lifted a hand upwards, inviting her to help him to his feet as he said, "I need your help."

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita looked at the offered hand and smiled before backing a couple of steps, leaving the man laying on the cobblestones.

"I don't work for you anymore," she told him, clarifying, "I don't belong to you anymore."

Nikita had escaped the Program very much the way she'd just greeted Hans, by ambushing him in an alley and overwhelming his superior strength and greater weight with her lightning speed and well placed punches.

"I told you what would happen if you ever came after me," Nikita reminded him.

She reached to the small of her back and pulled out a small caliber revolver, picked for its ease of concealment and for the fact that, unlike a semi-automatic, it wouldn't kick out a spent casing that might potentially become evidence in Hans's murder investigation.

 

[TiredFingers]

"I don't work for you anymore," she told him, clarifying, "I don't belong to you anymore."

"Well, you never belonged to me," Hans corrected. "I was just your--"

But that was all the farther he got before Nikita reminded her of the last thing she'd told him, then pulled a small handgun and aimed it at his face.

"Carmen's in trouble," he said quickly. She didn't fire, so Hans assumed she wanted to hear more. "The Program sent her on a job, and she'd disappeared."

He cautiously rose to his feet, ensuring Nikita didn't feel threatened, indicated he was going to withdraw something from his pocket, then removed and held out before her a piece of paper. On it was a single word: Nikita.

"When she vanished, we searched her place," Hans continued, stepping carefully forward to allow Nikita to take the piece of paper if she wished. "We didn't find anything we considered valuable to the case. Except this."

 

[Alice2015]

"Carmen's in trouble."

Nikita relaxed her finger from the trigger; she'd been tensing it and had probably been a second from putting a bullet through her former handler's forehead. She didn't fire, though, listening to Hans tell her, "The Program sent her on a job, and she'd disappeared."

Nikita kept the weapon trained on Hans as he stood and showed her a piece of paper. Despite having only her name on it, the note told Nikita a story no one else would have expected to hear. She knew that Hans understood this, otherwise he wouldn't have gone to the effort to find her.

The way Nikita's name was written, the way certain letters leaned or swirled or did or did not connect ... even the color of the paper and the angle of Nikita's name on it told a part of Carmen's tale for her friend.


Without taking the gun off him, Nikita took the note from Hans, backed several steps out of his reach, and studied the note for authenticity. Its legitimacy made Nikita's stomach roll. Without looking back to Hans, she told him firmly, "I deal with you and only you. If I smell the Program anywhere near me, I kill you ... then I kill them ... then I go public."

Hans knew what that meant, of course; the only reason she hadn't been dispatched by a Program hit squad was because of the fear that she would expose the highly secretive organization. Nikita looked to Hans and asked, "Deal...? Or ... do I just shoot you now and go look for her on my own?"

 

[TiredFingers]

"No, not a deal," Hans responded, knowing that Nikita might very well just pull the trigger now and do as she said, going off to search for Carmen on her own. He quickly explained, "If I don't involve Program resources, if I don't keep my bosses in the loop, they'll be suspicious. I can, however, keep your participation out of my reports. No one need know you are helping me. That's the deal I can offer."

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita considered Hans's compromise for a moment, her weapon still trained on him. She studied the note; the various hints told the former operative all she needed to know in order to get started, even if to others it might have seemed like nothing more than a name on a slip of paper.

Lowering the revolver, then hiding it again in the small of her back, Nikita told Hans, "We need a private plane, something low key, not some corporate jet … and we need to be in Montreal … like, right now."

She passed by the man, heading for the end of the alley from which he'd come, presuming he had a car waiting nearby. As she tossed the note into a mud puddle, where they water soluble ink spread to become indecipherable in seconds and even the paper would dissolve in less than a minute, leaving nothing behind, she growled over her shoulder, "Call me Niki again, and I'll break something of yours you likely cherish."

She glanced over her shoulder into Hans's eyes, then downward toward his groin to ensure he understood her meaning. Then, she turned away, still walking until she reached the end of the alley, and asked with a growl, "Do you have a fucking car someplace, or are we walking to the airport?"

 

[TiredFingers]

Hans was on his phone before they'd even reached the end of the alley, ignoring Nikita's comments about her nickname and his out of sight car. As he headed for the corner beyond which he'd inconspicuously parked, incorrectly thinking he'd be able to sneak up on the ever vigilant woman, he spoke into the phone, "I need you to schedule a flight plan for Burlington. Yeah, Vermont. Yeah, for now, immediate departure. Use the Mercy Flight info, for legitimacy. Two passengers. But make sure the plane's fully fueled. No, we're not going to Burlington. Okay, twenty five minutes. And coffee."

Hans pocketed the phone and looked to Nikita, explaining, "If the authorities check on the last minute flight plan, it'll look like we're transporting an organ between hospitals."

He could tell by Nikita's expression and lack of response that she'd probably already put that together. Part of her training for the Program had been in how to move from one point to another, sometimes beyond international borders as they would be today, without anyone taking notice. They reached his car, loaded up, and headed for the private strip twenty miles away. They got out of the city and onto the interstate without a word spoken between them.

"I like the new look, it's nice," Hans said, finally breaking the tense silence. He glanced over to Nikita, at her hair, face, and body, all of which she'd altered just enough to give her an almost entirely new look. Looking back to the concrete strip down which they were flying, he attempted to compliment her, "Of course, any look on you would be nice."

 

[Alice2015]

(OOC: For the image below, imagine it with a fashionable hoody of a similar fabric. It concealed her revolver, which was in an inconspicuous holster in the small of her back.)

Nikita ignored Hans's compliment. She knew she looked good; she knew she always looked good, unless she was dressing down for the purpose of not attracting attention. She'd been blessed with a body and face that men liked, then spent hours upon hours maintaining the first though physical training and diet and the latter through … well, through very little, as she simply had a China Doll complexion that didn't require that much attention.

Hans had always appreciated her beauty. She knew this because he'd told her such. At one point during her 4 years of servitude to the Program, they'd become very close, nearly becoming lovers. Hans had become infatuated with what Nikita had become, and Nikita had been appreciative to Hans's efforts to make her just that.

But they'd resisted. Nikita assumed Hans had passed because fraternization between handlers and their recruits and operatives -- of which she'd been one then the other -- was strictly forbidden. Nikita would have been transferred to another handler should their relationship have gone that far.

And why had Nikita passed? Because by that point in her service to the Program, she'd already decided that she was leaving. Nikita knew she was going to flee at the earliest point, and while she knew she could leave the Program, she didn't know if she could leave Hans if they had become lovers.

They continued onward in silence until they reached a small, private air field. There were a dozen or more small, single engine planes, both out in the open and inside a number of small hangars. They stepped near a twin engine Cessna that already had its props spinning. They boarded, and Nikita found its layout to include seats that could be folded away and secured to allow for cargo space.

"Wake me when we get there," she told Hans as she made a space to take a badly needed nap. She removed her hoody, holster harness, and -- with the latter -- her revolver. She laid down amongst some soft sided luggage and bags of whatever, closed her eyes, and easily fell asleep with her hand gun under her.

 

[TiredFingers]

(OOC: Thanks for this again. My God, what a look.

Hans watched lay amongst the cargo and simply pass out. He'd always been impressed with the woman's to do that, fall asleep at times when anxiety would have kept the average person from even closing their eyes. He studied her for a long couple of minutes, amazed, recalling her time under him. Nikita had been his greatest challenge as a Program recruit, trainee, and operative.

She had also been his greatest success. Nikita had excelled in every area, from hand to hand combat and marksmanship to language and socialization to computer hacking and intelligence interpretation to so much more. She'd impressed Hans's superiors so much that when faced with a situation that required a young, attractive female, they'd sent her out on an assignment 7 months earlier than they had with any other recruit. The mission had been a total success, though, Hans suspected that Nikita had had to go above and beyond with the male target to get out of his suite before the bomb she'd planted exploded, sending debris and bodies to the streets of Miami below.

Hans moved up to the cockpit to give the pilots the sticky details of their flight, then returned to a seat in the cabin to get some sleep. He couldn't. Instead, Hans found himself studying Nikita, remembering their time working together. It hadn't been their greatest of successes. Their target had been eliminated, but two dozen innocents had been killed or seriously injured as well. When they learned that Nikita had hesitated due to the civilian presence, Hans's supervisors had ordered him to terminate her continued involvement in the Program. Nikita had known that her life was in danger and responded by disappearing, only after kicking Hans's ass, of course. It had been the last time he'd seen her in the flesh, until today.

The plane landed in Burlington, rolled into a hangar from one side, refueled, and then rolled out the other side to resume its flight, this time without a posted plan. It flew low over Lake Champlain, then even lower over the forests along the shores of the Richelieu River into Canada. A sharp turn to the east, then north, then west again, and the plane dropped even lower at the suddenly illumination of two strips of lights in an open field. The pilot brought the plane down onto what, by day, appeared to be nothing more than a turf farm. Even before the plane stopped, the landing strip lights went out. Someone outside the plane opened the door, lighting the steps with a red lensed flashlight.

"Welcome to Montreal," the man said with a voice Hans found to be too jolly for 4am. As he led them away from the plane toward a car, dark except for the interior light illuminated by the open doors, he reassured Hans, "Every thing you asked for is in the car. The address you asked about is already programmed in the Navigation, which will purge when you turn the car off, deleting the record as usual."

Hans thanked the man, adding, "You'll wait--"

"--to light the field and send the plane off, yes," the man confirmed before even being asked. "We'll make sure you're gone first."

Hans leaped in behind the wheel, waited for Nikita to load up as well, then smiled as he put the car into gear, saying with feigned delight, "Like the man said, welcome to Montreal."

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita had been able to easily fall asleep because she knew Hans wouldn't let any harm to come to her. Not now. She knew this because although he'd found her, he hadn't called in a Program hit squad to terminate her. Hans was no idiot; he knew trying to take Nikita out on his own would have more likely ended up with him dead instead, just as her putting him on the back in the alley had proved.

No, he wasn't here to kill her, so … the flight had been a good time to catch up on some badly needed sleep.

Nikita had stirred at the plane's landing and its multiple course changes, but then each time fell right back to sleep. It wasn't until the craft landed on the rougher than normal airfield east of Montreal that she awoke for the last time.

And while she knew -- or at the least hoped -- that Hans didn't want her dead at the moment, Nikita couldn't be certain of the people on the ground. They may have been Program people or they may have been Hans's personal assets; while the former wouldn't have been a threat, the latter might very well have just killed her here and now, letting Hans's mission to find Carmen come to a bloody end here in the dark of a Canadian grass seed field.

She let the hoody hide her face while in the top's front pocket one hand held tightly to her revolver as the other gripped a flash bang no bigger than a roll of Lifesavers. But they got to the car and headed down the road without incident.

They were two or three miles away, heading first down a country road and then out onto a rural highway, heading for the light pollution filled sky of Montreal when Hans finally began filling Nikita in on her friend's situation.

 

[TiredFingers]

"The Program uncovered a plot to assassinate a high level member of a Ukrainian delegation set to meet with Prime Minister Trudeau," Hans finally began explaining their reason for being in Canada. "Pavlo Andruko, the Deputy Foreign Minister he heads the Ukrainian Government's efforts to get the European Union, the U.S., Canada, and other nations to put more pressure on Russia to get out of their territory, including the return of the Crimea to Ukrainian control."

Hans turned the car into a freeway access and a moment later their speed jumped to just beyond the speed limit of 100 kilometers per hour. He didn't want any undue attention from the Sûreté du Québec. Just as in the U.S., your average driver couldn't help but push his or her speed just beyond the upper limit, so to actually follow the limit at this late hour of the night might seem as if he was intentionally to avoid getting stopped by a cruiser from Quebec Safety.

"The Program needed to get someone close to the Ukrainian Delegation during its visit with the Canadian Prime Minister," Hans continued. "They sent in Carmen, using her BBC reporter cover, Meghan Deal. She had the language skills. And, what with you no longer available, she had the other skills necessary to get the job done."

Hans half glanced Nikita's way, curious as to whether or not she'd respond to his insinuation. Female operatives were recruited for a number of reasons, but it had never been a secret that along with their intelligence and ability to learn quickly, Nikita and Carmen's primary resource and ability had been their delicious bodies and their willingness to use them to achieve their goal.

He continued, "She got close to one of Andruko's Aides, and then to Andruko himself. Then, she sent an emergency message that only said the assassination plot was not what it seemed. Fourteen hours later an attempt on Trudeau's life was foiled, with the finger being pointed at a member of Andruko's team. The alleged plot -- and I say alleged because we just don't know -- it was kept in house, to give the authorities the time to collect evidence and get a clearer picture on just what the fuck was happening, as well as whether or not the threat was over."

Hans looked to Nikita again, adding, "Sometime during that fourteen hours, Carmen disappeared. We've had no contact with her, other than finding the note to you. By the way, I found that little slip of paper that seems to have affected you so much. And I kept it to myself. Just thought you should know."

He pulled the car off the freeway, and as he began selecting a series of turns that would get them into the heart of the city and to their hotel, he finished, "We have to know what's going on here because Andruko and his team are scheduled to meet with the President in six days. POTUS won't cancel the meeting, saying it's too important and that doing so would seem to be abandoning the Ukrainian people. I mean, any more than we already have."

Hans had some pretty strong feelings about Russia, its foreign policy under Putin, and the U.S. President's alleged friendliness with the country that still had hundreds if not thousands of nuclear missiles pointed at America and Europe. He generally kept those feelings to himself, but Nikita knew his thinking on the issue, so why hide it from her now. He finished as they slowed and pulled up into the valet area of their hotel, "The Program wants me, and now by extension you, to find Carmen, to find out what she knows about the happenings in Ottawa, and to figure out how this affects the U.S. … and deal with it accordingly."

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita listened closely to the details of the operation about which Hans was speaking. She knew the man well enough to know that he believed all that he was saying to be true. She also knew him well enough that he was perpetually skeptical about what he was told by his Program superiors. It was a healthy and life preserving habit to have when you were in the Program: not trusting what those above you said all the time.

What Nikita knew from that one word note Carmen had left her -- or, more specifically, from how it had been so carefully composed -- was a whole lot more than Hans knew, though, Nikita suspected he may not have trusted what he'd been told either.

At the hotel, as a valet opened her door, Nikita asked in Québécois with a perfect local accent, "Can you give us a moment, please. My customer and I haven't decided upon a price for my services quite yet … or on how long I'll be pleasuring him tonight."

The valet's eyes opened wide with shock. He'd already taken a quick ogle at how Nikita was dressed, and now he took a second gander, likely believing whole heartedly that she was indeed a prostitute.

She looked to Hans with a bit of a pleased expression, then told him in quiet English, "Gimme your phone."

She opened the console between their seats and found the burner smart phone she knew would be there. Taking it out and tapping her way to the About Phone window to find its number, she dialed it with Hans's phone, waited for it to connect, ended the call, then tossed him his phone again.

"Get out and leave the keys in the ignition," she demanded. "I have something to do before we go any farther on our little adventure together."

Nikita nodded to the patiently waiting valet, who opened her door. She indicated she wanted him to help her out, and after she used his hand to rise Nikita pulled up a bit closer to him than he'd expected, by the wide eyed expression on his face.

"Can you believe that this joker forgot the condoms?" she whispered to him, again in Québécois. "I guess if a girl wants something done right, she has to do it herself."

The young man only nodded, his face filled with a deer in the headlights expression. She turned away to curl around the back of the car, slipping the valet's access card inside the bosom of her body hugging outfit. It should get her into the hotel from the side and back entrances or at the least from the garage accesses, until it was reported lost and deactivated anyway.

At the driver's side she came face to face with Hans, smiling to him, wondering about his thoughts on the little bit of fun she'd just had.

 

[TiredFingers]

Hans could never mirror Nikita's faux accent, but he understood the language. And he couldn't help but smile and even chuckle lightly at the young valet's reaction. When she met him at the driver's side of the car, he asked her quietly, "Was that fun?"

He got the answer he'd expected before she basically pushed him out of the way and got into the car. Hans watched her speed the car away, then made his way inside to check in to the room he'd booked while in flight over the border. Once in his room, he called a contact here in Montreal and then another in Ottawa for updates. They had nothing for him.

Hans tossed his phone onto the bed and looked out upon the city. Fourteen days, he thought to himself. That was how long it had been since they'd had contact with Carmen. He himself had been trying to find her or at the least some information on her for the past eight days. And nothing, thus the reason for finally locating and approaching Nikita instead. If anyone could find the missing operative, his former, off the reservation one would.

But would it be in time?

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita sped away from the hotel, made a left, made a right, and proceeded just four more blocks before pulling up in front of a night club she knew from a previous visit to Montreal. After the valet took her keys, the bouncer took one look at her and -- knowing that the paying, male customers would love her -- unhooked the red velvet rope and invited her past the line of mostly males and couples waiting for their chance to get inside the popular dance hall.

An hour later, Nikita walked out of the club, wearing a new outfit and carrying an expensive Chanel purse filled with cash, credit cards, IDs, cell phones, and more. The men and women with whom she'd been dancing, flirting, grinding, and even making out would be realizing they'd been robbed soon enough; the woman Nikita had led to the Ladies' Room for sex and then incapacitated and stripped of the new clothes was probably awake by now, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do as she found herself naked in the stall.

She dropped into the car again and headed away to the first of three hotel rooms she would rob. Hotel card keys didn't have room numbers on them, but horny club goers were always ready to give up their those numbers when Nikita suggested that they meet for a romp between the sheets … or over the sheets … or without sheets at all.

It was almost 4am when Nikita was interrupted in the third room by the guest's arrival. A quick punch to the man's temple as he entered dropped him to the floor, and after stealing his cell phone and removing the battery for now, Nikita was done for the night. She headed back to the hotel in which Hans was likely already sleeping, and -- using the information he'd texted to her burner -- got a key from the front desk and headed upstairs.

In the door, she was ready to end her long day with yet more sleep or, if Hans was still up, deal with whatever he had to say to her.

 

[TiredFingers]

Hans had, in fact, laid down to get some rest. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten more than 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep in an actual bed. Despite the stress and uncertainty, he was out cold in less than a minute. He'd wanted to know when Nikita returned, so he'd told the valet and concierge both to keep an eye out and ring him when she returned. Neither did, which made Hans wonder if that was why she'd picked the valet's badge off his chest earlier in the evening.

He was just awake enough to hear the light tone sound at the use of the card key in the door. Habitually, he slipped his hand under the pillow to grip the semi-automatic pistol there, relaxing it only when Nikita came into his view at the opening of the short hall to the door. Her new outfit made him smile, knowing how she'd gotten it. The sight of the purse -- he didn't know Chanel from channel -- only made him chuckle a bit as well.

"I see we had a productive evening," he said, sitting up and letting his feet fall out from under the bedding. Hans didn't stand, though, because although he was wearing a tee shirt, down lower he was only in his boxers. "I'll take the couch if you want the bed."

 

[Alice2015]

(OOC: I am adding one more thing to Nikita's things that Hans sees. I put it in blue below.)

A minimal amount of lighting revealed to Nikita that Hans had in fact gone to bed but awoke upon her entry. He saw her clothes, purse, and rolling suitcase -- all new to him -- and quipped, "I see we had a productive evening."

Nikita smiled slightly, giving him a little bit of a pose as she responded, "A girl needs things."

He sat up offering, "I'll take the couch if you want the bed."

"Don't do that," she said as she headed for the bathroom door. "I ordered a little something from room service. Should be here soon. Don't forget to tip him."

Dragging her bag through the door, Nikita closed it behind her, stripped, and took a badly needed shower. She reeked of body odor from a long day, a fight, a flight, and a night of dancing.

After she'd dried, she opened the suitcase and pillaged through the contents. After she'd gotten her room key but before she'd actually come up to the room, Nikita had slipped inconspicuously into a back hallway and used the swipe card she'd lifted from the valet earlier in the evening to access the rear entrance to the hotel's clothing store. After disabling the ancient and inadequate alarm, she found and packed the rolling case with a variety of items, including more outer clothing, undergarments, and whatever caught her attention and screamed steal me, you'll like me.

She was running a pilfered brush through her hair when Nikita hear a knock at the door. She came out to find Hans and a tired looking graveyard shift bell hop at the door, the latter pushing in a small cart and the former ripping a twenty dollar bill off a generous fold of both American and Canadian money.

Both men's eyes opened a bit wider at the sight of Nikita in only a sexy bra and thong set. She was totally at ease at the attention as she stepped up close to Hans, ripped off a second of his twenties, and offered both to the bell hop.

"Take care of the man properly, lover," she spoke, again using perfect Québécois with a noticeably local accent. Nikita winked at the bell hop, to reassure him that this $40 tip was perfectly fine, despite the fact that she'd already tipped the young man and the concierge to find her something to drink and eat at what she herself had described to them as this ungodly hour. Nikita turned her back to the men -- showing off her tight, shapely, and well displayed ass cheeks -- and pushed the cart toward the bed, calling back over her shoulder, "Finish up, lover. I'm on the clock … remember?"

She hopped onto the bed, shrieked a bit as she put the relatively cold wine bottle between her bared thighs, then giggled as she began working the cork screw atop it.

 

[TiredFingers]

As he watched Nikita disappear beyond the bathroom door, Hans imagined her stripping out of her clothes and revealing that beautiful body, firm where firm was good, soft where soft was even better. He'd seen her naked or mostly naked before, twice during her training and three times during operations. She'd been a delight to ogle and had, of course, caused Hans some physical excitement below his belt line. Watching her on a hidden camera fuck a target in Berlin had obviously caused similar results in his boxers, as well as in the boxers of the technicians operating the surveillance equipment. In the presence of Nikita's handler, they'd been smart enough to keep any lascivious comments to themselves.

Knowing how comfortable she was in her skin, even when most of that skin was exposed, Hans was not all that surprised when she came out of the bathroom wearing the tiny underwear set. He was sure that the word had circulated through the graveyard staff that he was a John and Nikita a whore, so he allowed the bell hop to see him ogling the woman with a happy smirk.

"Take care of the man properly, lover," Nikita said in the local French dialect, snatching even more money that he'd have to record on his expense voucher when the mission was over. "Finish up, lover. I'm on the clock … remember?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Hans began before looking back to the bell hop, whose gaze was still glued to the ravishing beauty now jumping onto the bed. When the young man finally pulled his eyes away and looked to the paying guest, Hans waved his thick money clip before him and said with a suggestive tone, "My fear is not of running out of money but of running out of clock."

He dismissed the bell hop with thanks and closed the door behind him. Walking casually closer to the door, he watched Nikita as she popped the cork out of the bottle. He started, "Please, Niki, don't--"

But he was too late as the young woman tilted the bottle at her mouth and drank straight from the bottle. Hans only shook his head, recalling the first time the two of them had sat in the dining room of the training hall to practice decorum. She'd done that same thing then, before and after Hans had politely asked her to refrain.

Nikita had been rough back then, but as time went on she was found to be a true diamond in the rough. She'd killed a police officer and been sentenced to die of lethal injection, which -- as far as the public knew -- she had. The Program had needed a young, Caucasian operative, though, and they'd stepped in to have the lethal cocktail switched to a non-lethal one and to have their own physician in the death chamber to announce the barely breathing and seemingly dead woman deceased. After that, it only been a matter of transporting the body to their training facility in Upstate New York.

"You can take the girl out of the trailer park," Hans said as he snatched the bottle from Nikita's hand. He didn't finish the saying, though, instead -- as he looked her steadily in the eyes -- he lifted the bottle to his own lips and took a big swig. He handed her the bottle again, telling her, "We have a meeting with a man at 11am, so, get some rest. I'll take the couch, like I said."

 

[Alice2015]

"Please, Niki, don't--"

Nikita had waited for Hans to turn and look at her before she raised the bottle to her mouth and filled it with white wine. She knew he hated that, amongst other habits from the pre-Program days that she retained and acted upon from time to time, mostly just to piss him off.

She had, indeed, been a rough one before meeting the man who had, essentially, saved her life. Nikita's family had defined dysfunctional: her father had been both physically and mentally abusive to her and her mother; her mother had responded by abusing alcohol and -- after a later-in-life pregnancy that ended with a miscarriage due to a drunk driving accident -- opioids of all types, shapes, sizes, and dosages.

At 13, Nikita was raped by her father, something she'd known was coming for a long time. By that point, she was already drinking, smoking, and doping, as well as sucking cock to pay for the previous three sins, so being sexually assaulted barely even phased her.

By 15, she was burglarizing houses and businesses to pay for her every deepening addictions. After a two year stint in juvie for her less involved part in a violent home invasion -- in which the father was struck and crippled for life and both the wife and daughter raped by her male cohorts -- Nikita and some new cohorts broke into a pharmacy to steal opioids and other valuable drugs, only to find out they were all so high and disoriented from some new street drug that none of them could even read the bottle labels to find the good stuff.

When the police responded, Nikita was sitting on the street curb, out of her mind and ranting. One of the more sympathetic officers misunderstood the girl's presence there, and believing she had nothing to do with the failed robbery, let down his guard. It was then that Nikita jabbed a blade upwards into his neck, cutting him so severely that he'd bled out before the other officers even realized what had happened.

Her trial had been short, her sentence definite, and -- with no appeals filed -- her incarceration short. Nikita's life up to that point had been one of tragedy, pain, disappointment, and hopelessness, but her time in prison awaiting execution had been even worse. No one in her family came to visit; none of her supposed friends checked up on her; and she endured this lack of love and attention fully clean and sober, with a full and total ability to understand that no one cared what had become of her.

After they strapped her to the gurney, put the needles in her arm, and lifted her to see the viewing audience, Nikita saw one last horrific sight: the room was empty with the exception of the family of the dead cop and the Prosecutor who'd put her away. The last thing Nikita was ever going to see was the harsh expressions of a dozen people who felt for her the most intense hatred she'd ever imagined.

But, as it turned out, it wasn't the last thing she saw. The next day, she awoke in a startling white, windowless room that featured nothing but a mattress on the floor and a change of clothes -- also startling white -- neatly folded near one wall.

And, of course, Hans. He'd been there when she awoke; he'd explained what had happened to her; he'd explained that she'd been given a second chance, that she could do something good with her life; and he'd called her a diamond in the rough, something she hadn't understood at the time but would come to learn quickly.

Nikita had rebelled against Hans, the Program, and everything offered to her and expected from her. At first. Then … later … it all clicked. She came to understand that she could be more than she ever thought she was, that she could make a difference in this world that meant something to others and to herself. She took to the training whole heartedly, impressed her trainers and herself, and became something she never imagined herself being: a success.

Then … she blew up the corner of an entire floor of a hotel … and all the people within it. Oh, Nikita wasn't naïve; she'd known she was being trained for something that might result in harm to others, or even death to others. She wasn't being trained in hand to hand, knife work, firearms, and improvised explosives for nothing.

But seeing the concrete, steel, and bodies hit the street behind her had affected Nikita in ways she hadn't expected. She'd known then and there she wouldn't stay with the Program -- with Hans -- for long. Four years later, when her new assignment was undoubtedly going to cause the deaths of far too many civilians, she finally had enough and ran.

That had been two years ago.

And how, she was back … in a manner of speaking, anyway. Nikita didn't consider this working for the Program; she was here to find and -- if she was still alive -- rescue Carmen, then get the hell out of Dodge. She had no interest in what Hans wanted, to discover what had gone wrong with the Program's mission and act accordingly. No, once she had her friend safe and sound -- or the young woman's body, if that turned out to be the case -- Nikita was gone again, this time never to be found.

Hans began, "You can take the girl out of the trailer park."

"Fuck you," Nikita murmured in a soft voice, smirking devilishly. She watched Hans repeat her uncouth action with the bottle before haning it back and telling her about the next day's meeting. When he said he'd take the couch, Nikita laughed, telling him, "Jesus, Hans, get in the bed. I know you won't make a move on me … because you know what I'd do if you did."

Nikita reached to pull the bedding down and slipped in under it, holding the bottle out before her so as not to spill it. She took another big draw off of it, set it on the lamp table, then snatched a handful of crackers and a couple of pieces of cheese from a platter.

"Turn out the lights before you come to bed," she said before filling her mouth. After she'd chewed and swallowed, then repeated, she laid back in the bed, the blankets and sheets low enough to show off her young, shapely bosom. She had been watching Hans the entire time and now told him out of the blue and with a firm tone, "I'm not back. We find Carmen … we figure out whatever it is you are trying to figure out about this Ukrainian thing … and I'm gone again. Understand?"

She didn't wait for his answer, instead, rolling away from his side of the bed and closing her eyes. Nikita murmured, "Turn out the fucking lights already."

 

[TiredFingers]

"Jesus, Hans, get in the bed. I know you won't make a move on me … because you know what I'd do if you did."

Hans couldn't help but chuckle at that. It was true: he both knew what she could do and knew that she'd do it. Nikita hadn't been afraid to use her body or her skills with its womanly features when necessary to accomplish her Program assigned tasks. But she wasn't the type to just let some guy take her for his own pleasure either, as she'd also proven to Hans on a number of occasions.

She told him to turn out the lights, which he turned to do with pleasure. Despite knowing that he and Nikita weren't going to get intimate tonight -- if ever -- Hans was semi-stiff inside his boxers, and what with only having the tee shirt's lower inches in front of his groin, he had little doubt that his partially excited state was more than obvious.

"I'm not back," Nikita told him. "We find Carmen … we figure out whatever it is you are trying to figure out about this Ukrainian thing … and I'm gone again. Understand?"

She didn't wait for his answer, but Hans said simply, "I understand."

Nikita rolled to her side, telling him, "Turn out the fucking lights already."

Hans's hand was on the switch, and he pushed downward on it. He let his eyes adjust to the lower illumination, studied Nikita for a moment, then walked around the end of the bed to his side. He contemplated retrieving his pillow and the bed spread and moving to the couch in the other room. It was awkward, the idea of sleeping next to this sexy woman who he'd seen naked so often, who was now wearing very little, and with whom he'd never made love and likely never would. But in the end, he slipped into the bed and pulled the covers over him, laying on his back, then rolling to his side as his cock began heading toward full erection.

 

[Alice2015]

Nikita had never been able to sleep soundly next to another person … unless she was already half dead from what ever drug she was taking at the time. So often during the early morning hours, she stirred to Hans's movements and sounds. Once, she awoke to find him on his back, a bit closer to the middle of the bed; a second time he'd rolled her direction to lay on his side.

She studied him for a while that last time, then -- smirking devilishly -- she wiggled her way across the bed with a minimum of movement and rolled into a spooning position with her body ever so lightly touching Hans's at his thighs and chest. She lay there for a moment to see if he'd awoken. Seeing that he hadn't, she gently pushed a bit more back against him … and unconsciously -- she assumed -- he slipped an arm over her and pulled her tighter against him.

Smiling, Nikita closed her eyes again, enjoying the feel of her mentor's body against her own.

 

[TiredFingers]

In contrast to Nikita, Hans had never had a problem with sleeping soundly next to another warm body. It was likely due to the fact that for the majority of his adult life, he had. From his junior year of high school, when sleeping together had been a euphemism for fucking, then passing out from the relaxing euphoria, Hans had had lovers who'd either invited him to spend the night in their bed or had instead taken his invitation to spend the post-coital hours in his bed. He'd married for the first time his sophomore year of college, his second time during his first tour overseas with the Army Rangers, and his third and final time during his fourth year at the CIA.

After that last divorce, he'd been recruited into the Program. The long and short term relationships both had kept coming, which meant he often has someone to come home to at the end of a long day or a trip out of town or overseas. But because position with his new employers meant that he often put his dick into a variety of women for a variety of reasons, Hans had decided it was best to give up on the I Do phase of relationships from here out.

His dreams during the night were erotic and enjoyable, and when he awoke holding Nikita's torso in one arm and her neck in the other, Hans understood why. He didn't immediately release his hold of her, nor did he pull back his cock which was nearly at full stiffness and laying in the crevice between her firm ass cheeks. But eventually, he did ease back from her, roll away, and sit up to stare at the shades around which the morning sun was slipping in to give some illumination to the room.

He waited until his erection has subsided, then donned his slacks, rose, and made his way to the bathroom, carrying the hotel's cordless phone's handset. As he sat and peed, he called room service and told the woman who answered, "I need breakfast and coffee, two pots please, and I don't care what you bring me, so long as it will feed two people well. There'll be a hundred dollar bill for you and the bell hop to share if it I hear a knock on my door in less than ten minutes."

He hopped into the shower, was done, out, dry, and dressed in under five minutes, and exited to the bedroom half of the suite in time to see the bell hop in the other room at the short hallway that led to the suite's entrance.

 

[Alice2015]

Hans waking up had, of course, awoken Nikita as well, though she certainly didn't indicate her consciousness. She'd felt the rigidity of his cock pressing lightly between her butt cheeks, and she'd very nearly pressed back against the man's cock as if by accident, just to see if he would pull himself back.

But, she'd resisted, and as he rose and left the bed, she simply lay there with her eyes closed, enjoying the memory of having fucked with him a bit. She heard him talking on the room's phone, catching just enough to know that room service would be on its way.

Rising, she donned one of the sexy negligées she'd stolen from the hotel shop, then went to the living room of the suite with her phone to make some calls. She was halfway through her third call when the knock came at the door. She opened it, smiling politely to the wide eyed bell hop as he wheeled the cart inside. She told him to wait, went back to the bedroom -- giving him a good viewing of her swaying backside -- then returned with a twenty dollar bill.

"Thank you very much," she was saying just as the bathroom door was opening. She watched the young man leave, then snatched up a piece of toast before heading back to the bedroom to do a full turn, showing off her sexy body as she told Hans, "They think I'm a whore, so … just keeping up the story."

She laughed as she bounded for the bathroom, warning Hans, "Don't eat all the eggs. I love eggs."

Nikita took care of her morning bathroom needs, then emerged to find Hans and tell him, "A contact of mine from Ottawa is in town right now. I need to go talk to him, and I need you to come with me … to watch my ass."

She half turned to present her profile, arching her back to emphasize her buttocks before asking, "You don't mind watching my ass, do you, Hans?"

Again, she laughed, snatched up the plate that included the eggs and more, and headed for the bedroom, telling him, "I'm going to dress. We can go see your guy … then mine … and then, if we have time, there's a nice little restaurant outside town I'd like to visit."

 

[TiredFingers]

Hans didn't hide his ogling of Nikita's sexy nightie as she pranced about the room. She was wearing it to get attention, so, Han would be disappointing her if he didn't give it, right? She told him about a contact and her need for back up, and when she mentioned Han needing to meet his guy first, he told her, "Meeting's canceled. Postponed, at least. We can go meet your guy."

He watched her go into the bedroom, admiring that tight butt and yearning to be looking down upon it as he pummeled her pussy from behind. His cock twitched, and Han had to divert his gaze, reminding himself that it was better for both of them and for the mission to keep such thoughts to himself. He made his way over to the windows that looked out upon Montreal and contemplated his years of working with Nikita. Their supervisor-supervisee role wasn't the typical working relationship enjoyed -- or endured -- by most people, obviously. Most people didn't go to work each day with the intent of assassinating a threat or stealing a technology or ousting an uncooperative foreign leader.

But as he stared out on the city below, Han knew that they had two things in common with a many boss-employee pairings: he wanted to and had always wanted to fuck this particular worker, and it was without a doubt it would be far better if he just simply never did. There was just too much risk in letting their working relationship turn into an intimate, even loving one. People got stupid when their feelings for a work place subordinate or superior got in the way of doing their job. That might not be too much of an issue for some Starbuck barista whose worst error made while fawning over her or his boss might be forgetting to put the caramel in a customer's macchiato. But Han and Nikita worked with explosives and machine guns, not sugary syrups and chocolate sprinkles. A mistake made while letting your mind wander about a previous night's orgasms could result in lives lost, most particularly their own.

Hans returned to the room service cart to eat some more of the cooling food and coffee. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and after decrypting and reading the text he contemplated the day ahead. Movement caught his eye and he turned to look at Nikita as she gave him a simple pose for his reaction. He smiled, looking her up and down before saying, "You never cease to amaze me, Niki."

 

[Alice2015]

In her more casual clothes, Nikita was nothing like the woman who had arrived at the hotel the night before … twice … in different sexy club hopping dresses. She'd always been able to do this, switching her look from casual to goddess.

"I'm still the same whore you brought her to fuck last night," she said, referring to what the staff was thinking about their guest. To explain herself, Nikita opened the front of her stolen, soft, suede jacket to reveal the front straps to the holster harness. She released the lapels again, snatched a bagel from the cart, and told him, "Let's go. We don't want to be late."

……………………………

The drive was a long one, taking them more than an hour to the north. They left the city and the suburbs and were deep into rural countryside when she directed Hans off the highway and onto a dirt road. They bounced down the pothole filled road at barely 25 kph for almost a mile, passing through forests and fields alike before reaching a closed gate.

"Don't get out," she warned in a soft voice. After a couple of minutes, the gate -- which had looked old and rusty and, more importantly, manually operated -- suddenly began opening via a motor that had been inconspicuously hidden behind a bush growing around the barrier's static point. "Go ahead, but … slowly. I want a moment to look around."

Another quarter mile of dusty road put them over a small hill, and they got their first look at an old farm house surrounded by a half dozen outbuildings of various sizes, shapes, and purposes. Nikita directed Hans to casually pull up to the house so that each of them could get out with the car door protecting them.

Looking at her former boss, she could see that this wasn't what he'd been expecting when she said she was going to meet a contact. She reached across to lay a hand upon Hans's thigh, a gesture that was a bit more intimate than typical for them.

"Don't worry … I got this," she told him, giving his leg a little squeeze before she pulled her hand back and opened the door. Once standing outside, though, she leaned back in and -- with a knowing smile -- told Hans, "But just in case … if things go south, you can feel free to shoot anyone on the property. I have no friends here who I would miss … ya know?"

 

[TiredFingers]

Conner Callaghan emerged from the old house with a double barreled shotgun held casually in the crook of his arms, the hinge opened to make the weapon appear less threatening than it would have been had it been closed and ready to fire. He smiled wide with pleasure at the sight of the young beauty walking toward him from the now dusty luxury car.

"My, oh my, oh my, if it isn't the sexiest jewel thief in the Western Hemisphere," he began in English with a heavy, local accent. His gaze traveled up and down Nikita's shape before he glanced to the car's driver, then looked back to Nikita, asking, "Who's your boyfriend?"

He listened to her answer, then turned just enough to indicate that he was inviting her inside, telling her cryptically, "I have a guest you expressed an interest in talking with."

He turned and headed back inside the old house, letting the squeaky old screen door slam behind him. In the car, Hans was doing double duty, watching the man with the big, 12 gauge shotgun while also scanning the area around the house for others. As they'd pulled up, Hans had noticed at least 3 different types of footprints walking side by side and sometimes crossing in some soft ground along the driveway. The old man wasn't the only person here, that was obvious.

He wanted to get out to provide better cover for Nikita in case it became necessary. But she'd told him not to get out earlier, and Hans presumed that applied until either she suggested otherwise or all hell broke loose and it was his turn to decide his next actions.