A Game of Cat and… Rabbit?

On the snow-covered rooftop of her luxury apartment, Eevi stood, the crisp winter air biting at her cheeks as she savored the tranquil scene before her. The cityscape stretched out beneath, adorned with a pristine layer of snow, muting the usual cacophony of urban life into a serene symphony.

As she admired the beauty of the moment, her phone vibrated with a subtle urgency. Retrieving it from her pocket, she saw the familiar notification that marked the beginning of a new assignment. The screen illuminated with the details of her next target – a name and a face that would soon become etched in her memory.

The target in Eevi's new assignment was a prominent philanthropist and business tycoon named Adrian Thornton. He had been known for his charitable contributions and influence in various sectors, making him a figurehead in both the business and social realms. However, beneath the benevolent facade, rumors have swirled about the less savory aspects of his dealings. Dealings that her contractor now saw due to collect on.

“Tut-tut Mister Thornton, you don’t get to turn your nose up at money you’ve already been taking.”

The wind whispered through the silent skyscrapers as Eevi processed the information. The target's fate now rested in her hands, a decision she had grown accustomed to making with clinical precision. Her thoughts, like the winter air, were sharp and clear.

With a final glance over the snowy city, Eevi pocketed her phone, her steps echoing against the rooftop as she made her way to the door. Another mission awaited, and the assassin, healed and reinvigorated, was ready to dance once more in the shadows of New York City.

The gala was what you would expect from "society's best". The dining hall was near the top of the East Street Hotel and already it was full of most the country's most prominent upper class members. Yellow Christmas lights expertly hung around the room so their reflection on the slick, black tiled floor gave off the impression of walking on starlight.

A band played soft jazz renditions of holiday classics which seemed to go underappreciated as no one seemed to pay them any mind. They were just there for ambience. A tree, larger than life, had been...well, decorated was the word but it didn't seem right. Gold and silver orbs hung from it, then it was wrapped in more of those golden string lights. It felt lazy. No personalized ordainments, no goofy touches, it felt...impersonal.  Then the table, they were lined with white and blue-trimmed cloth, plated with what could assume was...fancier plates and cutlery?

That one Mel wasn't sure of. All she could be sure of was that the wealthy had weird standards about their eating arrangements. Even the tables had been assigned seating which...for a fancy party and charity event seemed...odd? What if you were assigned a table with someone you dreaded? You just had to spend the night with them?

Seemed overly complicated.

But she wasn't brought on to judge them, despite her qualifications to do so. No, her job was simple. She was supposed to hang out off to the side and make sure no meta-leveled trouble broke out. Or that's what she was told. Honestly, she felt like it was probably more of a flex. A "Look! I hired one of the top heroes as protection." sort of situation. Still, it was a charity event and while most of these rich people were probably sleezy and had done things she'd knock 'em out for, at least this was for a good cause.

As the clock struck eight there was a sudden clanging of glasses, like someone at a wedding trying to get people's attention. The music stopped. Standing, there was the man of the hour. Adrian Thorton. Ready to give his speech.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!"

This oughta be good...

"First of all, I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas! I am sure all of you have been very good for Santa this year." Polite laughter. "But in all seriousness, good doesn't begin to define what we have all done here tonight! Thanks to all of your contributions we have raised over one hundred thousand for the Kindness for Kids charity which is going make sure they all have an incredibly merry Christmas!" There was applause, this one more genuine.

Even Melody applauded this one. While she didn't like that she had to be here and she was sure that she wouldn't like any of these people on a personal or professional level, the charity would at least benefit kids in need. She had done her research, this one...this one was legit and that at least was good.

Thorton then waited for the applause to die down.

Eevi Vainöla sauntered into the gala, an uninvited guest but carrying herself with the air of someone who belonged there. Her "invite" had been provided with the mission, she was to be Heidi Wikström from the Ny-Gotland Grúp for the financial security of people affected by Meta-abled people. A bit on the nose really. Dressed in an elegant black gown that accentuated her lithe figure, she moved with a silent grace, seamlessly blending into the sea of well-dressed patrons. Her amber eyes scanned the room as she sought out a vantage point, her intention clear — to observe and analyze. As the gala's attendees were busy with the charity event, Eevi slipped into the role of the unassuming VIP guest.

Finding herself near a strategic spot off to the side, Eevi leaned against a gilded pillar, her eyes now honing in on the crowd. She observed the glittering ornaments, the flickering lights, and the opulence that surrounded her. Despite the festive atmosphere, her gaze remained dispassionate, and her expressions concealed behind a mask of indifference.

Adrian Thornton took the stage, and the applause rippled through the room. Eevi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the philanthropist's theatrics. Her thoughts drifted, weaving through the crowd's behaviors and interactions.

"People, always pretending," she murmured to herself, her lips curling into a subtle smirk. As she people-watched, Eevi's mind worked like a well-oiled machine, processing the nuances of each interaction, each gesture, each fleeting expression. She identified the ones putting on a show of benevolence, the self-absorbed individuals reveling in their perceived importance, and those who genuinely cared about the cause. Her conclusions were swift and unrelenting, aligning with her cynical worldview.

Yet, in the midst of her disdain for the upper echelons of society, a flicker of curiosity sparked within her. It was a twisted fascination, a desire to unravel the intricacies of the intricate dance of power and wealth. As Eevi patiently waited for an opportune moment, the gala unfolded around her, and she reveled in the shadows, ready to make her move when the time was right.

As Adrian Thornton delivered his speech, Eevi Vainöla listened with a discerning ear, her gaze fixed on him with a mixture of boredom and disdain. His words about charity and raising funds for a good cause echoed through the opulent hall, met with polite applause from the well-dressed attendees. However, Eevi, armed with the knowledge of Thornton's less-than-savory financial dealings, regarded his words as nothing more than a smokescreen. The philanthropic facade he presented clashed sharply with the shadows that lingered behind the scenes.

A cynical smirk tugged at the corner of Eevi's lips as she thought, Charity, a cloak for their sins. In her eyes, the wealthy often used such events not out of genuine altruism but as a means of whitewashing their reputations, obscuring the darker truths beneath a veneer of benevolence.

While the crowd applauded Thornton's efforts, Eevi remained unmoved, her fire-like eyes cutting through the illusion. To her, the gala was a masquerade, a grand spectacle of hypocrisy and self-indulgence. She observed the guests' reactions, noting who bought into Thornton's act and who saw through the charade. Thornton's speech may have swayed the majority, but for Eevi, it was merely another layer of deception to be peeled away. As the applause faded Eevi couldn't help an urge she had felt at the repugnant display of feigned charity around her. Her applause continued in spite of the awkward drawn out length she was creating while Thornton waited for the applause to end.

Attention was fine, she had too much to drink and was in a bad mood could always be her excuse. For anyone as wealthy as who she was supposed to be that could be forgiven and laughed off by these blue bloods. And so she continued her long, mocking, golf-clap and held an unblinking gaze at her target. She scanned the room, taking note of the raised eyebrows and exchanged glances among the guests. Eevi reveled in the discomfort she stirred, relishing the awkwardness that permeated the air. The attention she garnered wasn't the usual admiration one would expect; instead, it was tinged with confusion and a hint of annoyance.

Unfazed by the disapproving looks and the subtle whispers that accompanied her prolonged applause, Eevi maintained her facade. Each slow clap served as a testament to her disdain for the artificiality of the gathering. To her, the gala was a theater of lies, and she had chosen to play the role of the defiant outsider, exposing the insincerity that lingered beneath the veneer of high society.

As the applause eventually subsided, leaving an awkward silence in its wake, Eevi smirked, her actions a subtle act of rebellion against the fabricated glamour of the gala. She would continue to navigate the evening on her own terms, unapologetically challenging the pretenses of the elite gathering. Her amber-like eyes scanned the room, taking note of the raised eyebrows and exchanged glances among the guests. Eevi reveled in the discomfort she stirred, relishing the awkwardness that permeated the air. The attention she garnered wasn't the usual admiration one would expect; instead, it was tinged with confusion and a hint of annoyance.

Unfazed by the disapproving looks and the subtle whispers that accompanied her prolonged applause, Eevi maintained her facade of enthusiasm. Each slow clap served as a testament to her disdain for the artificiality of the gathering. To her, the gala was a theater of lies, and she had chosen to play the role of the defiant outsider, exposing the insincerity that lingered beneath the veneer of high society.

As the applause eventually subsided, leaving an awkward silence in its wake, Eevi smirked, her actions a subtle act of rebellion against the fabricated glamour of the gala. She would continue to navigate the evening on her own terms, unapologetically challenging the pretenses of the elite gathering. "Sorry, where I am from we clap until all the joy we feel leaves our body entirely. It would be rude to stop before I felt it appropriate."