ᴹᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ
.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Osaka, Japan
American Raleigh Hotel
Fifteenth Floor

Thursa Benoit stood outside in the hotel car park in the drizzling rain. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the din of street noise, the sound of pedestrians making merry, the low hiss of neon lighting and the cat calls of prostitutes looking for a john.

The Hotel Raleigh was far too classy to be in this part of town but to be fair, it had been here before all of the other distractions lining the busy turnpike. Back then, it had been a quiet refuge for her. That's why she owned a flat on the fifteenth floor.

She hadn't been here in ages.

Mainly because being the Sr. Biochemist Researcher at Olympus Colony, there was no need to be on earth anymore. At least not for her. She hated it here. The filthy conditions made her wonder how anyone ever survived here any more.

With a deep breath she stepped into the hotel drive and crossed over to the huge main entrance, tapped her key card and waited for the double wide doors to slide silently open. She went in heading straight for the elevator avoiding patrons and the concierge as he was hurrying in her direction.

She didn't have time for niceties.

She was here for one reason. To collect Jethro Bascom and get him to the ISA in Israel. If she didn't, he'd never make it.
She had known him too long and in too many intimate ways to think differently.

Thursa just hoped he wasn't too drunk to reason with. She had no confidence in him these days.

When she stepped off the elevator a blast
of cold air slapped her, carrying the heavy base thump of barely muffled, blasting music as she approached the door to her apartment. She stood there for a moment listening. The base beats settled in her stomach and she felt the sudden urge to wretch. Loud music always did that to her. The words that floated out to her were as ominous as her nausea.

'...There ain't no rest for the wicked, money don't grow on trees. I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed, there ain't nothing in this world for free...
I know I can't slow down, I can't hold back,
Though you know, I wish I could.
Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked,
Until we close our eyes for good"
Yeah.."

Inside the bedroom, on a dresser littered with clothing and expensive male jewelry,
a phone vibrated and lit up again and again with an incoming call from Israel, beneath the scattered remnants of a sock and a tie, but went unanswered.

Thursa pounded on the door. The phone she held to her ear went to voicemail yet again. Frustrated, she removed her key card from her coat pocket and tapped it against the door handle, unlocking it.

When she swung open the door the music hit her like a brick wall as she walked in, past the living area and kitchen, down the hall to the back of the apartment. She could see the phone sitting on the dresser as she entered her bedroom.

With the screaming music in her eardrums a smirk of contempt touched her lips as she turned her head toward her master suite and her eyes rested on the man laying naked in her bed surrounded by three scantily dressed asian escorts.

All three of the women looked at her and smiled.

The man in the bed frowned but didn't bother to move, instead he held up the short glass of whiskey in salute while a  skinny cigar burned in an ashtray as he fondled the breasts of the topless woman closest to him.

The petite escort bent forward to regain his attention by rubbing her tit against his lips. Thursa watched as he took her breast in his mouth.

The escort moaned and grabbed his head, straddling his leg to grind her vagina against his thigh.

Thursa cleared her throat.

"What the fuck," he muttered between his clenched lips as he pulled away from his toy.

Thursa clicked off the music and looked out the wall length window to the lights of the city illuminating the dark night sky, avoiding his accusing glare.

"Yeah, what the fuck Bascom. I've been calling you for hours," she answered, still looking out the window.

"So?" He waved the women off the bed regretfully and they strolled past Thursa with dirty looks and down the hall.

"You're late asswipe. What the fuck," she reiterated.

"I told you I was resting," he reminded her, downing the last of his whisky and placing the glass on the bedside table.

Her bedside table.

"And how the fuck did you get in here anyway?" He asked, getting out of the bed, taking a drag of the cigar and snuffing it out. He slowly blew the smoke into the air.

Thursa gave him a look of disbelief.

"Remember? I own this apartment dumb shit. God I'd forgotten just how dumb you military ass wipes are. All the same. Dumb as shit. Now get your shit together and let's go."

"Fuckkkk- Alright."

"Goddamnit Bascom we have a mission to run. Or don't you want to get your daughter back?" Her voice was sultry but thick with scorn.

"The fuck Thursa. You know damn well I do. I had a flight scheduled for tomorrow but you goddamned can't wait a minute."

Thursa blinked and dragged her eyes away from his nakedness, the well hung baggage between his legs and the memories, to find the three escorts still standing down the hall gaping at her.

"What do you want?" She barked at them, raising her hand. She pointed to the door. "Get the fuck out!"

All three of the women flinched, but were undeterred, letting loose a tale-tell string of  high pitched, angry japanese cursing with arm gestures to match. It was clear they wanted their pay for services rendered.

Jethro laughed.

"The fuck," Thursa sighed. "I should have learnt the language."

But she knew what they wanted. She reached into her coat pocket and brought out a bag of cocaine and a roll of money, throwing it down the hall towards them.

They fell to the floor greedily snatching and grabbing the scattered bills, the bag of contraband and left, slamming the door behind them.

"Did you just throw a bag of coke at them? Fuck. I could have used that, Thursa." He gave her a blurry eyed glare.

Thursa looked back at Jethro as he got dressed, her disgust plain to be seen. "Don't worry dickhead, I still have yours," she mocked him ruthlessly before walking out to wait in the living room.

Jethro finally joined her, strapping on a gold Panerai Submersible Quaranta Quattro watch and smiled because she already had a line waiting for him on the solid glass coffee table.

Thursa finally allowed her eyes to roam over him.  "You look like shit."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, fuck you too-- do your line so we can get the hell out of here."

Jethro smiled. His Thursa. Always the gracious host.

Thursa's phone buzzed. She glanced at it as Jetheo finished his line, and she stood up.

"It's go time, Bascom."

He nodded, pinching his nose to clear any unwanted, noticable residue left from his face and together he and Thursa headed for the roof. He knew how she worked. They had been in love once. A long time ago.

But work and the military, taking precedence for them both, cooled the fires they had, and well, life in general, but to this day she still always had his back.

Something he'd never understand and often took advantage of. If it hadn't been for Thursa he'd have never sent Meri off to Olympus but he knew how she felt about his daughter. She had promised to watch over her like a mother and he had no doubt she had done just that.

Perhaps some of this was guilt for failing to know what Meri was up too, but he wouldn't fault Thursa. Meri was a grown woman.

They exited the elevator on the top floor of the hotel and took the stairwell to the roof.

Jethro could hear the thump of the copter blades and his heartbeat sped up. Whether plane or copter, flying was in his blood.

Thursa pushed the door open and that violent sweeping rush of wind from the compact bird hit his face and suddenly Jethro Bascom was all business.

They ran under the wings to the open hatch and climbed in. When Jethro looked up, the copilot smiled and nodded.

"What the fuck? Emalie?"

"Yeah, it's a long story."