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((OOC: Continued from HERE BIC ))

Location: New York
Weather: Cloudy
Terrain: Building Interior
Time: 6:05 am

Helen flipped the light switch as she entered the building. No one was around, just her. She opened her cell phone and dialed Cassandra's phone number. She was probably busy and Helen would most likely get her voice mail. A smile slightly formed on Helen's face as she was correct. "Hello, Ms. Reynolds, right after you left I got a messege from Mr. Trotter. He has accepted the offer and said he would get Vennesa. If he was able to get her last night, he should be here in the next hour at latest."

As she closed her cell, Helen walked across the floor. Her heels clicking at each step. The place was so empty... Or so it seemed. She walked over to the front desk and clicked a button under the desk. Turning around she walked towards the elevator and entered. The door closed before Helen got her key card and swiped it. She soon felt the elevator move.

The elevator doors soon opened before she walked out. She continued down the hallway. On both sides were offices which were enclosed by glass. She saw men and women with white lab coats on. Making it to the end of the hallway, she entered the last office, closing the door behind her.

"Oh, Ms. Helen," a man in a white lab coat greeted her as he lifted his head up from his computer.

"Hello," she responded as she sat down infront of the man at the desk. "I know it is a little bit of short notice but we have someone coming in today."

"That's fine. May I ask who?"

"Vennesa Bristoe," Helen replied.

"Oh,"

"Yes, so I am wondering, Are there any cells on the bottom floor available?"

"Yes, I believe so,"

"Good," she said as she got to her feet. "Oh and also, the entrance area. Can we get someone up there at the desk. Cassandra and some others will be arriving soon, and we need people up there,"

"Will do,"

"Thank you," she said as she walked towards the door and exited the office.

The leer jet landed somewhere just outside the Hamptons, on a private landing strip. It's shining white body glistened in the sun. The windows were like small portals for the people inside to look out from. From outside the plane, it seemed as if no one was inside. It was lifeless. The only thing that gave a hint of life was the piloting. The plane moved smoothly through the landing strip until it finally stopped on the side, where people rushed to fuel it up and such.

Mr. Trotter opened the door to the plane and stepped outside, looking around. He was fitted in a new suit, identical to the one he had been wearing the previous night. He held onto his new top hat as a breeze ran through the strip. He was here. . . New York. He owned a mansion in the Hamptons, but he wasn't here to visit his plot. He was here on business this time. He brought a rather large suitcase with him, on roller-wheels. He wheeled it down the stairs, trying his best to be careful with it. Some of the employees assumed there was some fine antique or something in there, but no. . .

He set the suitcase in the back of the Mercedes SUV and then climbed into the back seat. His driver tipped his own hat and gave a smile, welcoming Mr. Trotter back to New York. He replied, saying he was glad to be back, but told him he wouldn't be returning to his home. They were heading into the city. The driver didn't ask any questions, he smiled and complied. The cop parked in front of the Mercedes SUV roared to life as well, the sirens whirring and wailing. The cop car behind them roared to life, the sirens whirring and wailing, mimicking its counterpart in front of the black SUV. The black rims on the SUV started to spin as the Mercedes and the cop cars pulled away from the landing strip. . .

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Within the hour they had arrived at the building. The cop cars had offered a rather swift arrival. With no traffic to block them, they had made wonderful time. Mr. Trotter exited the back seat, went into the back of the SUV and pulled out the suitcase, setting it on the ground and allowing his driver to wheel it inside. The cops waved goodbye before pulling away and going back to their duties. Mr. Trotter entered the building himself. There was a pretty girl sitting at the front desk. He approached her, taking his time, his exaggerated swagger and suave motions apparent in every step. He was clearly from a high place. . .

"Good day love, I'm here for one Ms. Helen."

"You must be Mr. Trotter," Helen said as she walked away from the elevator. She was a little surprised not to see Vennesa around. All that she could see was a man in a suit and a suit case. "I am Christine Helen," she held out her hand for him to shake. "I am happy to see you have made it here in one piece. Please follow me,"

Turning around, Helen turned down a hallway before opening the door to her office. She closed it behind them before walking over to her desk and sitting in her chair. "Please have a seat," she said as she looked at the chair across from her.

"I am sorry that Ms. Reynolds has not arrived yet, but she should be here soon. Anyways, I haven't heard from you since last night, were you able to get Vennesa Bristoe?"

A rather attractive woman approached him, greeting him as one Ms. Helen. That was his contact. She had asked him for this job, and he had accepted. She hadn't sounded too attractive in the message, although it wasn't really of consequence to him. Her voice seemed a little more feminine now. He was impressed. If he hadn't been on a job he'd probably have her. . .Could have bought her and the whole damn company if he really wanted to .. .But that was thought for another day.

He took her hand, kissing it lightly on the knuckle, before she turned away, leading him down a hallway. He grabbed the suitcase from his driver, dismissing him, and wheeled it down the hall and into her office. She shut her door behind them. He set the suitcase next to the chair he was aiming to sit in, and then eased himself down into it, crossing one leg over the other. It wasn't the nicest piece of furniture but he could make with it.

"I'm appalled that you had any doubts, Ms. Helen." Mr. Trotter replied to her comment about him returning in one piece. She asked how the mission went, and then apologized that Ms. Reynolds hadn't arrived yet. Ms. Reynolds. . .An interesting woman, he was sure she had been out to his South African estates before, but couldn't be sure. He had a lot of parties there, although only in his public quarters of the estates. . .He enjoyed his privacy most of the time. . .

He smirked, and unzipped the suitcase and out came Ms. Bristoe, tied and gagged and conscious. He blew her a kiss. He always came through for a customer. Did he ever fail? No. . .He was Mr. Trotter. He looked up at Ms. Helen. Still chattering. Hm. . .He could shut her up. . .No, she was a client. No. He licked his lips quickly and then continued to study her. He had accomplished his task.

"I believe this is her. . ."

Helen's eyes widened as she watched Vennesa fall out of the suit case and onto her side. "Very good," she said looking back up to Mr. Trotter. She turned in her chair and picked up the phone. She called down stairs. "Hey, it's me. Could you send someone up to pick something up for me? Thank you,"

Hanging up the phone, she looked back over at Vennesa. She didn't say anything to her. She just looked. She looked at the girl's eyes. She didn't look scared. She looked angry. Helen took a deep breath before looking back up at Mr. Trotter. She then heard a knock at the door. "Come in,"

A man walked in. "You needed something moved?"

"Yes," Helen pointed down at Vennesa. "She is to be taken down to the bottom floor, untied and put into a cell. Be careful. She was a member of the BSAA."

The man nodded as he picked Vennesa up and exited the office, shutting the door behind him.

"Anyways, so how much do I owe you?" Helen asked as she looked back at Mr. Trotter.

Ms. Bristoe was taken away accordingly. Then Ms. Helen reverted her attention back to him. She looked at him with those big eyes. Although he was attracted to her, it wasn't in a lusting way. It was in a way as if. . .He were in a priceless auction, and he wanted a piece that he knew he could have, but wasn't sure if he wanted. That was the way he was attracted to Ms. Helen, and that was the same way he was attracted to Ms. Reynolds. .. Yes, he was sure he had seen her at some of his parties. . .She drew a lot of attention.

He smirked.

"You owe me nothing. . .At the moment. . ." He said, the cogs in his head churning. He had plans. He wouldn't reveal everything just yet, and if he had the opportunity to make some gains, he wouldn't waste his chances on money. . .He had plenty of that. He had enough to just pay her for letting him take the job. No, he wouldn't be paid with money. He would be requesting something a little more dangerous. . .A little more sinister . . .

For now though .. .

"I will be staying in New York. . .If you need anything, you know where to reach me, I assume."

Helen was surprised that the man wanted nothing. She lifted an eye brow as she watched him. Pushing a few strands of hair behind her ears, Helen turned on her computer. She opened Mr. Trotter's file. "Well I will keep you in mind for anything else we need. You did well, Mr. Trotter."

Nodding, Helen looked at the screen that showed the man's information. "I have your number and email." She turned to look at Mr. Trotter. Where is Cassandra? she thought as she glanced at the door. "Are you sure you want nothing?" Helen asked as she crossed her right leg over her left.

Her phone soon rang. "Hello?" she said as she picked it up.

"Vennesa is in her cell."

"Thank you. I will make my way down soon." Helen hung up. "I am sorry for that," she said.

Mr. Trotter stood. He smoothed his three piece suit and looked at Ms. Helen. She had a terrific body. . .He could almost imagine it hanging on one if his walls. Yummy. . .He thought to himself as he licked his lips briefly again. He tipped his top hat to her as an acknowledgment of gratitude. He had certainly done clean work for the Umbrella Corp this time, and he was sure they would not forget it. . .And they would need plenty of help in the future. . .

"Are you sure you want nothing?"

"On the contrary. . .I want everything." He said, before bowing. He made his way towards the door. He had his hand on the knob. It felt cold to the touch. He could feel his fingers going slightly numb from the metal. It was soothing. He simply stood there, although it was for a brief, unnoticeable moment it seemed like forever. Time seemed to stand still as his brain worked. It weaved its intricate web, and he let it do its work. He could not control it, it seemed to do it on its own almost. . .

"Perhaps you and Ms. Reynolds will stop by sometime soon. . .I'm one for parties, and I'm sure you could make it to one if I host one in say. . .A day? I'd dearly like to see her again. .." He said, before exiting. He didn't give her a chance to respond. If she needed to stay anything still, or respond, she had his information. She knew where to reach him if she really needed to say anything to him. And if it was truly urgent she could always go to his address in the Hamptons. She knew where that was as well. . .

He was walking down the hall, admiring some of the architecture, although not the most impressive it was still quite nice. Marble from Roman quarries. . .Probably 18th century, nothing too grand indeed. . .His own Hampton home had 13th century Marble. . .And stones from a Roman amphitheater. That was impressive. But still. . .Umbrella didn't need to flaunt their wealth, but neither did he. His taste was. . . .Relatively modest, although still grandeur at the same time. He didn't mind. He gave a small acknowledgment to the desk lady before his phone rang. He looked at the screen, and then clicked the Accept button on the touch screen.

"Mr. Trotter. . .You owe me a favor. . ."

A smirk formed on Helen's face. "Well thank you again, Mr. Trotter," she said as she watched him exit the room. As she got up, she noticed herself in her mirror. She was still wearing the white suit she had worn at the Oblivion Base. Her white jacket was zipped up. She also wore white dress pants with white high heels. Helen tightened her pony before walking over to the door of her office and exiting.

She made her way back to the elevator and pressed the bottom floor. She pulled out her key card and swiped it before the elevator started moving. She was going down seven floors. Helen put away her key card before the doors of the elevator opened.

It was quiet. There was not a lot of activity on the bottom floor. Helen walked down the hallway and looked at the end where she could see Vennesa. Helen stopped infront of the cell and looked through the bars. Vennesa was lying down on her stomach. "Wake up, princess,"

Vennesa's eyes slowly opened. She looked around before slowly pushing her upper body off of the ground. She pushed herself onto her hip before looking up at Helen. Her head hurt. Vennesa's eyes narrowed before she got to her feet. "What am I doing here?"

Helen lifted an eye brow as she crossed her arms. "We want to hire you back,"

Vennesa looked at Helen but said nothing.

"I'll let you think about it," Helen turned around and started back towards the elevator but stopped and looked over shoulder at Vennesa. "And don't think you can call back for help. We got rid of your head set," she said before walking towards the elevator again.

The helicopter sped across the New York skyline, making its way to the Hamptons hastily. "Bring it down on a nearby rooftop before we head in." he said to the pilot. Then Thomas took out his communicator and started an encrypted message.

--"Attention. We are going to begin the assault soon. Report to the target location."--

The helicopter landed on a nearby hospital roof. Thomas slid the door open and looked upon the facility in the distance. It was well-lit with floodlights, and was adorned with heavy infantry and barbed wire fences. As expected, there were some guards on the rooftop, but with heavy cover-fire from the helicopter, Gabbi could slip into one of the upper floor's windows undetected. Thomas gulped as he prepared for what was about to happen. He slid the door shut and meditated his means of attack. "It's time." he said suddenly, as the helicopter circled around, preparing to land in a small park across from the facility.