A Different Kind of Storybook

[Maijorie Gensitine - On a plane heading out of Rome - October 11 2008 - 6:28 PM]

The contours of the first-class leather seat felt unfamiliar. A Stuart came around passing out the in-flight meal with a bright smile that seemed to be plastered to his face. He set a plate of fish, rice, and steamed vegetables on the table in front of me. I tried to smile back politely but couldn't find the muscles to work my mouth into the shape once I smelled the dinner.

"Thank you," I tried instead.

He nodded her head and moved on to the other seat. Well, it can't be that bad, can it? I picked up the fork gently and picked at the soggy broccoli, then moved on to the fish. Airplane food had never been one of the things on my favorites list. Apparently they haven't changed a thing since the last time I'd been on.

A few minutes later after forcefully digging through the meal and gagging on the strange tasting rice, I squirmed and wriggled into a comfortable position and got ready to fall asleep watching Run Fat Boy Run on the seat in front of me.

The captain's voice crackled inside the cabin. "We'll be in Venice, Italy in just a couple hours. Please relax and enjoy the flight, don't hesitate to call on an attendant if any problems arise. Thank you, and goodnight."

Before I had gotten on the plane, or even walked in the airport, I had been told that there were a line of crimes and murders that were piling up in Italy. Since they called one of the SIS (or more known as the M16) to come in, it had to be good... er, bad. Plus, I had never really been to Venice before.

I can still recall the exact words I said when I got the call... "This ought to be fun." a sly grin started to grow on my face as I put on the earphones and lean my head back, anxious to get to touch down and see what all the fuss was about.

(Connor Hanson-USA-2:00 pm)

I looked around my apartment and sighed. It was a tiring job working for the CIA, but I loved it. I tended to be sort of a dare devil anyways. I had a hot temper though that sometimes got me in trouble more often than not. I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up after my last mission to China. My time was still off, and it was affecting me more than I'd like.

My cell rang annoyingly and I picked it up. "What?"

"Conner?" a women's voice purred. It was one of my coworkers.

I smiled slyly. It was too much fun playing with women. The boss would often get mad at me for doing so, but could I help ot if they found m attractive? "Carol. It's good to hear your voice, as always. What are you up to?" I asked in my Irish accent.

"Oh...nothing much. I miss you! You were gone for a while!"

I could practically hear the pout in her voice. I grinned. "So why donzt you come over?"

She sighed. "Can't. This call is business. Plus the boss would kill me for taking another day off..."

I stiffend. "This about what's happening in Italy?"

"Yeah...it is. Everything is arranged. Private jet is waiting to pick you up. everything you need to know is in there. Have fun, and good luck. Izll miss you!" she pouted again.

I smiled. "I'll miss you too." I said that to practically every girl, but she didn't have to know that.

"Maybe when you get back you can tell me all about it." she purred.

"Most definitely." I hung up the phone and got my stuff together. I walked towards the plane and saw the boss waiting.

"Hanson." He greeted.

"Sir."

"I'm sure you'll do great. Listen, you're representing the United States of America, so don't blow this."

"Will do sir."

"Oh, and Conner, no fooling around. This is business. Don't mess with any girls. That's an order."

I tried not to smile. "I'll do my best sir." Then I got in the plane and was off.

Alanna Kozachuk> Italy> October 12th, 2008> 4:40 P.M.

Rain loudly pelted the streets of Venice. Naturally, that didn't stop the mass of people throbbing through the streets. Alanna pulled up the hood of her favorite sweatshirt from high school, mumbling to herself.

"Come on Akellah." The gentle tug on the wolfhound's leash prompted he to go faster.

A low groan emitted from Alanna's lips as the rain fell harder, causing the fat drops to bounce back upwards into her face. The only thing she hated more than being wet was stupid people. Her footfalls grew louder as she jogged over the cobblestone bridge towards her destination. Akellah happily clicked after her, the dog throughly enjoying what her human companion did not. Two, three, four more blocks were jogged until both human and dog made it to their place of safety.

The tinkle of bells sounded as Alanna pushed the door open to La Tienda de Té, Akellah hesitantly followed.

"Esperanza?"

A girl with dark complexion popped up from behind the bar. A wide grin spread across her face and her brown eyes sparkled with mischief. "¡Buenas tardes! Como estas?"

"Estoy bien. Y tu?" Alanna sighed at her excited friend.

"Eh, a bit tired." Esperanza switched back to English. "The usual?"

"Of course." responded Alanna as she took a bar seat. Esperanza flitted to the machines with a cup. Alanna studied her for a moment before a question flickered across her mind. "Hey Ranza, I've always wondered, why did you set up shop in Italy?"

Esperanza popped a top on Alanna's tea and slid it to her. She turned to flip the TV on as Alanna took a weary sip. Water flew everywhere as Akellah shook herself out.

"¡Dios mío! Control yourself, perro." Esperanza rolled up her sleeves before she wiped off the bar. She finished and leaned up against the counter. "Well, I guess I needed some time away from Spain. Italy is nice too."

A thoughtful nod was all that drew out of Alanna. The TV flickered to another story on the news. The latest murder victim had been identified. Alanna growled at the TV. Esperanza looked at Alanna for a moment then averted her attention slowly to the TV. Sighing she patted Alanna's arm. "This your case?"

Another thoughtful nod. Esperanza let out a breath she'd been holding in. There was no way to reach Alanna when she withdrew into her own little world.

"Ranza?"

"Mm?"

The pause was filled by the scatter of rain of rain on the window. "I'm expecting to meet someone here. If someone asks for me, pull me out, right?"

Esperanza crossed her arms. "Anyone in particular?"

She shook her head. "I actually don't know who I'm meeting. I just know it's someone who'll help with the case."

"Ah. I'll let you know." responded Esperanza. It was too late though, Alanna was already immersed in thought.

Asher Luna (Venice Italy 11:20 PM)

I stared down the the water, waiting woundering where the hell was everyone else, it was so quite. Venice was suppose to be for romance, not for dead bodys, bank robbers, crime. I bit my tongue. I glared down at the water, I stood in these rocky steps that looked like they were about to cave into the water at any moment I sighed. I checked my cell phone for any missed calls I got nothing.

"Welcome home Asher." I said, only telling the truth, I was borned here, my father had died here, then I left to the United States.

My eyes wandered into the water, it was a dark midnight blue, it was so cold. I crossed my arms over my breasts. I felt tears well up in my eyes but nothing fell, not one tear. I'd sat on a plane for what felt like forever and now I was staring fate in the eye. Daring it to come and find me.

"Asher?" A males voice called.

***Can someone be that person???!!!!****

Ray A'llen- somewhere over the Mediterranean: 6:00 pm

"Attention, we will be landing in Venice in just fifteen short minutes. I hope you enjoy your stay whether or not you're just stopping over." The clipped tones of the pilot came over the speaker.

Shaking his head Ray slipped his shades over his eyes as the harsh plane lights came on. He closed the folder and slipped it into his coat pocket. It gave rough details on what the hob would entail, ending by telling him to get picked up at the airport and taken to the station, where he would be fully briefed with his team mates.

His mind flashed to the last things his superior had told him. "I don't have to tell you this isn't a normal case. Normally Italy would leave this up to their police, or failing that their own national agency. The fact that they asked for outside help all but shouts conspiracy. Be careful."

Ray sighed and leaned back in his chair after buckling his seat belt. "I'm always careful." He muttered sullenly. I'd be a fool not to be. A dead fool." Idly he speculated on the odds that any of his team mates wouldn't recognize the notorious A'llen family name.

Milo Barton - Venice, Italy - October 11th 2008 -11:22 PM

Rain fell lightly, tapping his shoulders as he slowly made his way through the dark back streets of Venice. He passed few others who only hurried on, eager to get out of the rain. Honestly, he couldn't blame them as he fingered the lighter in his coat pocket. Water was the only thing fire feared.

The drizzle slowly subsided and he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and inhaling deeply before letting the smoke drift from his nostrils. A bridge loomed ahead, a silhouette of a person outlined clearly against the only streetlamps in sight. They didn't move as his footsteps grew nearer and he wondered if they even heard him approach.

Standing only a few feet away, he recognized her at once. She was staring gloomily into the water, arms wrapped tightly around herself probably for warmth.

"Asher?"

She turned at the sound of his voice, her blue eyes searching for the face hidden in the shadows beneath the hat that rarely left his head. He raised it ever so slightly and she grinned.

"Milo!"

He smiled back and joined her by the rail, glancing back and forth from the glistening blue water and her face. "Hey," he finally said quietly.

She nudged him lightly with her elbow, a mischievous glint to her eyes. "Still the same quiet Milo as always, I see."

"Yeah, well...You know me," he answered, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ashes into the river below. "How are you?"

[Maijoire Gensitine - Venice, Italy - October 12, 2008 - around 7:00 PM]

Something was nudging my shoulder lightly and right then I had half a mind to slap it away--until I opened my eyes. One of the Stuarts were standing beside me, his expression a little apologetic.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but we've arrived at our destination and we'll be landing in a few minutes."

I think I replied, but it only sounded like grumble version of, "Whatever..."

He left quickly after, leaving me in silence--or music to be more specific--until I head another voice that sounded like it was right beside me. "I'm not fat!" it whined with a heavy British accent. But no one was beside me, how could that be? Then it hit me: Earphones!

I plucked the small devices out of my ears and shoved them back into the bag they came in. The TV was still playing Run Fat Boy Run over and over and over... I wanted to drift back off into unconsciousness, but the blinking seat belt sign wouldn't stop beeping at me. If only I was allowed to carry guns on this plane...

Outside, small multi-colored lights twinkled down below. It almost made me smile, I always loved looking down out of airplanes like this. I think I was still half-asleep when the cabin pressure finally started to changed since my nose was pressed against the glass like a little kid. Out of the corner of my left eye I could see someone in the seat across smirking at me.

My face started to get hot as I tried to get myself and my things together. The man turned the other way, also grabbing his things, and then catching his sunglasses before they could fall from the bridge of his nose; he squinted at the light.

"Odd," I murmured, buckling my seat belt as I straightened up a bit.

Suddenly, the cabin pressure changed again and then tires hit the ground. I could hear some of the things in the shelves above me move around.

"We have now arrived at Venice, Italy everyone! I hope you enjoy your stay and thank you for flying with Continental Air, we hope to have you again." the sound of hatched doors could be heard shortly after the sound of a chime being range throughout the cabin. Ding, ding, ding!

I grabbed my bags and made my way to the narrow space to climb down the stairs, but probably made it only a couple steps before almost tripping. A pair of black sunglasses fell in front of me. I turned around saw the man squinting and shielding his eyes from the cabin light.

My hand grabbed the pair of glasses impatiently and tossed it back, not expecting him to catch it. The only way he could have done that is if by dumb luck, or he could be an one of the agents. I watched him put them back through the corner of my eyes, walking forward as if nothing had happened. And as I looked back, I saw something that made me squint my eyes in disbelief. His eyes reminded of a hawks, but I could stand there and question him about it, so I moved on.

Samuel Andrews; England; October 12th 2008; 1:30pm

The streets were busy and Sam tapped the steering wheel impatiently as he drove towards his destination. The first piece of action he'd seen in four years and he was being held back by traffic!

The road forked after the next set of traffic lights and Sam took the left path, pulling up not much later outside a discreet building. He looked up as the letter had instructed and grinned. A helicopter? Perfect.

Samuel walked back to his car and opened the boot, hoisting a heavy rucksack onto his back and opening a small briefcase that held a grapple hook and some other interesting gadgets. He tied the end of the rope about his waist, leaving enough slack to then tie the briefcase on as well before shutting his boot and locking the car. He knew someone would be around later to pick it up.

A foggy mist obscured the top of the tall building but Sam had a good arm and besides, the fog would help more than it hindered. He threw the hook and was embarrassed as it fell back, hitting against the wall with a soft clink. Sam caught it, paused to listen and tried again, this time succeeding in securing the line. He climbed quickly but carefully, pausing briefly when he heard the tread of footsteps. He waited until the sound had faded and then rushed the last few feet and scrambled over the side. His heart thudded but he calmed himself.

A single man stood beside the helicopter, alert and throwing brief glances at his watch. Samuel casually walked over and the man started, looking at Sam and then to the grapple hook.

"They said you liked to be difficult," the man sighed as Sam packed his gear back into the briefcase. Together they walked to the helicopter.

"Sweet," Sam said eagerly.

"You able to fly this?" the man asked sceptically, wondering just how old this agent was. Sam smiled.

"That depends... have you got some papers for me?" He took the envelope offered and tore a single corner, peering inside before he opened it the rest of the way. This was getting serious so it was time to start being cautious. And a trigger bomb in an envelope was an easy way to dispose of an old agent.

A metal object glimmered from inside and for a moment, Sam thought he'd been mistaken but as he plucked it out, he found it to be an ear piece which he attached to his ear. It crackled into life but the line was quiet apart from the almost inaudible hum.

Next, he removed a fake pilot's licence with his name and photo on and some papers authorising his touch down at several destinations. But which was the right one? The man, his job finished, saluted and left the roof.

Sam climbed into the helicopter, running a swift check.

"All systems go," Sam murmured. His voice was picked up by the ear piece that was clearly a two-way communicator.

"Andrews?" A crisp, male voice asked.

"Sure is, so where do I head first?" He received the directions and frowned as he put the helicopter into action, setting off.

"I'm staying in England?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry, it isn't for long," the voice replied. "We sent one of our agents ahead but the third is here waiting to be picked up."

"And just who am I giving a lift to?" Sam wondered. Another frequency came online as a third ear-piece was activated.

"Isabella Milan," a female voice stated.

"And which of us is in charge? Or is it the other agent?" Sam was pretty sure he knew the answer to this one. Why would they call him in if not to head the mission?

"You're all equals," the unknown, male voice replied.

*thanks for letting me join!*
[Seul Freeman - Venice, Italy - October 12th, 2008 - 8:00pm]

Seul's left hand rested on Kudo's broad forehead, stroking absentmindedly, his right on his pistol. Both were tense, and he was well aware of his heart thumping away too heavily beneath the bullet-proof vest.

He was home, sitting in an old armchair, still in uniform. It wasn't so much that he was scared as he was shocked. Seul had been with the Venice Police Force for about five years now, and the crime rise had seemed unreal. Until, a couple days ago, it had taken his brother. Murdered in his sleep.

That was the only thing that made Seul glad of the incoming agents. Normally he would have despised outside interference, but he had to admit the people needed. Rumor had it they were pulling people from all over the place, even his birthplace, the USA.

Kudo whined softly and licked Seul's hand, rousing his partner to a pace. Seul walked to the window, through the hall, near his bed, and then came back to the chair. He scratched the ruff of fur behind Kudo's ears and then fastened a chain to the dog's collar.

"C'mon Kudo," he said aloud, and the dog followed him. Moments later he was at the Police Station, determined to find out about the new arrivals. Would they come here for a briefing?

Claire Jones, Venice Italy, October 14th 2008

I sat in my office playing with the stressball. "Oi Vey," I muttered to myself. I missed my old home in America today. For the first time in three months. I had been here for seven now. I was the youngest detective. Which meant I was the best as well. At least thats what I was told when I was promoted. I forced my thoughts away from the problem at hand, hoping that by clearing my mind something would click and make sense.

Suddenly the phone rang and nearly knocked me off of the chair. I straightened myself up and answered it.

"Hello? Detective Claire Jones."

The nameless voice went on to instruct me into my further involvement with my mass murder case. He was bigger than I'd thought he was.

Asher Luna
Vinice, Italy

After having a long conversation with Milo we ended up going back to my hotel which we both found out were were staying in the same hotel.

"So you got asked on the same case too?" I asked.

"Yeah." He smiled while he put a cig in his mouth.

I took it out and threw it.

"What the hell did you do that for?" He glared jokingly.

"Your going to die for that crap." I said pointing to him, we were acting like best friends.

"Well if it's going to be the death of me, I wanna die." He smiled.

I took a sip from my coffee.

Dr. Peter Davin- Yaht headed for Venice, 5:00pm

Peter sighed as the rain began. The day had started out rather beautifully. Orginally he and his parents had been on their way to visit family in England, where he was from. But when he got a call from his boss back in the U.S they had to change course. His father, a retired agent, understood of course.

His father was proud of him, for the most part. He did wish Peter was a field agent rather than the brains but he was proud none the less. He had taught Peter how to be a good agent, taught him to fight. But in the end Peter had chosen to be the intelligence part of the CIA. Though sometimes he did work the feild and could take care of himself, he was too smart to waste.

Peter was still in his swimming trunks and wasn't too keen on getting up out of the sun (which shone despite the rain), and changing. His mother and father rushed to the inside of the ship to escape the rain. Peter moved much slower.

The rain had actually woken him up. He pulled his prescription sunglasses off his face and rubbed his eyes.

"Peter come inside!" his mother shouted. Peter stood and walked to the inside replacing his sunglasses. His sister, Evangeline, was sitting in her bathing suit reading a book.

"Did you go out into the sun at all?" He asked in his accent.

"Yes I did in fact. But the sun was making it difficult to read." He laughed a bit then looked at the title of her book, Breaking Dawn. He sighed, he had heard all the fuss about the book but didn't think it was necessary. It was just a book.

"We'll be there in fifteen minutes." His father reported. Peter nodded and shook some of the water out of his hair. He had been looking forward to England, but fun would have to wait. It had been nearly three years since he had been back. He had grown up in London with his mother until he was sixteen. Then his parents got back together and they all moved to the states with his father. Peter began to take an interest in the CIA and the minds of criminals around then and his father was all to keen for him to follow in his foot steps.

"I'm going to pack." Peter announced then sauntered off to his room and packed one rather small suitcase with his belongings. It couldn't take that long to find one murdering theif could it? He changed into a black suit and chose contacts over glassed this time. Though he knew eventually the contacts would annoy him and he would switch them out for his glasses.

When the boat docked Peter pulled out the directions to the small pub he was talk to go to. He kissed his mother and sister good bye and told his father to say hi to the guys for him. Then the yaht cast off and his family left for London.

No one would ever guess his family was involved in the goverment, they kept that well hidden, though Peter was never sure why. His father claimed to be a private investor in different companies and that was how their fortune was accumulated.

Peter headed for the pub and found it after asking for directions in italian from a few different people on the street. He walked in to find a rather beautiful spanish bartender, and a girl whose face he couldn't see staring at the television a dog, sitting at her heels faithfully. He was supposed to ask for Alanna Kozachuk.

He walked up to the bartender who welcomed him in Spanish. He replied, "Buenas noches. ¿Sabe usted donde puedo encontrar a una persona por el nombre de Alanna Kozachuk?"

Milo Barton - Venice, Italy - October 12th 2008 - 11:53 PM

Milo and Asher sat quietly in her hotel room, both taking turns sipping from their drinks. Milo had rejected the offer of coffee and instead drank water, providing the argument that coffee and cigarettes didn't mix well.

"So do you know who else they're calling in for the investigation, if anyone?" Milo asked, glancing at his companion.

She shrugged in response. "I think we're supposed to meet up sometime within the next few days. Didn't you hear about that?"

Milo nodded. "Yeah, I did. I was just wondering if you'd heard from anyone else."

Asher shook her head. "Nope. You were the first."

He stood suddenly and stretched, his fingertips nearly brushing the ceiling of the small room as he arched his back inward and raised his arms. Then, readjusting his hat, he cast her an apologetic glance.

"I'm afraid I should be getting back to my room. I haven't been sleeping very well here, and tomorrow is another early day. I'm staying in 612 on the third floor, if you need anything."

She smiled. "Alright."

He nodded and left, shutting the door quietly behind him before turning to examine the hallway. It was empty, just like it had been when they'd arrived. He headed right, towards the stairs.

Once back in his room, Milo sank thankfully onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow he had brought so he wouldn't have to use the hard ones the hotel provided. He inhaled deeply and kicked off his shoes and took off his thick jacket that was still damp from the rain.

A restless sleep stole over him while he was watching the television flicker from picture to picture on the news. Police still had no lead on the killer. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Asher Luna (Venice, Italy)

I caught myself smiling, I'd haven't done it since I left The U.S. five days ago. Twenty minutes after Milo left, I got up and started walking down the stairs. I felt myself shaking, it was so chilly. I decided now was the right time to go... I heard echo's of my boots clinking down the stairs and I kept apologizing in my head for the people on the lowest floor to hear them. I walked outside and began to welcome myself home once more.....

Isabella Swan - Helipad at the top of the bank - 1:52 pm

It hadn't even been a full half and hour since they had called me in, and I was already waiting for a helicopter. The SIS had done well, making this helipad at the top of a bank so inconspicious. It was rarely used, and when it was used they had the simple excuse of a "special transaction" - and everyone believed that.

"Who's picking me up?"

"Our other agent, Samuel Andrews."

Of course the name rang an immediate bell - he was one of the best of the best. "I thought he was retired."

"He is, but he's needed." I heard the helicopter in the distance. The chief sunk back into the building as the helicopter landed.

Grabbing the small duffel bag that held all my belongings, I quickly climbed into the helicopter and pulled on my headset as we took off again.