The empty champagne glass chinked gently as Kizzy put it back onto the proffered tray. She tugged her lips upward in a smooth and vaguely haughty smile to the waiter before turning back to the man beside her to resume the inane chatter she had grown tired of almost as soon as it started.

"Whatever did you do next, Mr. Quattlebaum?"

The thin man gave a few nasally, whimpering chuckles before continuing his story.

"Well, I sold the stocks, of course. Can't lose money on some two-bit newfangled invention, you know?"

"Oh, but of course." Kizzy assented. She glanced about the room somewhat restlessly. Their host was aloofly ensconsed in a chair, watching his party go on without him.

Mr. Walton was something of an eccentric millionaire. He seemed like he would just as soon be a recluse if given the opportunity. But he loved money. He'd worked his whole life to get where he was, and still came across as rough around the edges to many of the Midwestern socialites he threw decadent parties for. Kizzy herself had never been very interested in the man's dealings--that is, not until a few weeks ago. Lately, Mr. Walton had been extending his business into more...shall we say, shady territory, with complete disregard to the well-established Mafia influence in Chicago. He needed to go.

But in order to make that happen, Sidious needed information on this guy. Thus, it was Kizzy's job to obtain an invitation to one of his parties and perform some covert reconnaissance. However, she'd run into a snag. She had been counting on Walton to be mingling with his guests, dancing and having a good time so that she could slip upstairs and search through his personal items. She turned back to the man whom she had been forced to accompany in order to obtain entrance.

"Excuse me, Mr. Quattlebaum, but I must go powder my nose."

She rose before he could reply and promptly lost herself in the thick crowd of jitterbugging guests.

"James! James get in here," Kates hollered from her desk in the biggest room of the HQ. "I need you to do something for me. It seems there is a gentleman, by the name of Mr. Walton, who thinks it's okay to tread on our toes. Nobody really knows much about him, other than his last name is Walton, and he's some rich bastard. Well as of late it seems he's been stepping into our territory, and I need you to go to his mansion and figure out some more about him. I don't like this man already, the fact that he's gone so long un-noticed says enough."

Nodding patiently James lowers his sunglasses over his eyes, and without saying a word grabs his keys and heads out. Peeling out of the driveway from Renaissance Avenue, James stopped by one of his safehouses and grabbed a few select items for the job. It wouldn't look too good for a man in slacks and a golf polo to stroll on into a mansion uninvited. Donning a multi thousand suit, James checked his hair in the mirror of the car. All was well on that front, and as per norm the sunglasses blocked any eye contact. This was essential, so much could be told from a mans eyes.

Glancing down at the "idiot-proof" map that Naomi had drawn for him in red crayon, James smirked and gave credit to the woman. Leave it to her to use a fricken crayon during an important mission. Idiot-proof it proved to be though, as James soon found himself on the road of his destination. Slowing down and turning his lights off, James creeped along the road until the unmistakable atmosphere of a party was found. Music was playing over the grounds, and laughter was heard from roadside. It seemed Mr. Walton liked to party.

Popping open the trunk to his car, James pulled out a gun, and tucked it away in a holster invisible to the eye. It was well hidden and hadn't failed him yet, hopefully he wouldn't need it. You could never be too careful, though. Pocketing a small tubular container, and a handful of firecrackers, James headed up towards the gate. He thought he would just be able to stroll right on in, but there was guards. Of course there were guards, this guy was a secretive-multi-millionaire-stealingfromthemob-nutjob. Sliding sideways into the bushes near the guards, James stood in silence, waiting for the oppurtune moment. Seeing the guards set down their drinks and begin to relax, James pulled out the firecrackers and lit them. Heaving them quite a bit away from the guards, onto the road they began to SNAPSNAPSNAP! Needless to say the guards were curious, and went to investigate. James quickly snuck through the gate and walked calmly up the ave to the entrance of the house. He was amused to hear the guards cursing out "those damn rotten kids across the street." His decoy had worked, and he was on the premesis.

Walking through the door James smelled a wonderful aroma of cooked chicken, roast pork, and alcohol. Taking a look around James paid no particular attention to where he was roaming, and ran straight into the body of an oncoming woman. "I'm terribly sorry miss! Let me help you up." Extending his hand, James helped the woman to her feet and looked at her for a solid thirty seconds before it hit him... "Kizzy?!?!"

Kizzy dodged a pair of wildly swinging dancers and was just breathing a small sigh of relief when she collided with a solid "thunk" into another guest. Falling backward, she bit an expletive short as she looked with slightly watery eyes up at the apologetic man. She took his outstretched hand and rose to her feet, curses storming in her brain as she made sure her dress was in order. Then he said her name. Kizzy looked up in alarm and recognized the face almost immediately.

"James?!? What are you doing...heh, I mean..."

She glanced around at the surrounding people staring at the pair.

"I mean, I didn't know you were coming to this party! I'm glad we've got a mutual friend in Mr. Walton. I should introduce you to Mr. Quattlebaum, my escort..."

She steered James away from the guests (and Quattlebaum), pulling him into a quiet corner and speaking to him in a stage whisper as she glanced about nervously.

"James, we're just acquaintances as far as anyone's concerned--I've got business to do while I'm here."

She turned to leave James, then paused and whipped her head back around.

"Wait...how did you get invited to this party? It's pretty exclusive--I've had to flirt with some boring rich guy all night for the privilege."

James laughed as Kizzy clearly got more frustrated by the second. It was amusing to him to see her in this manner, normally she was calm cool and collected. Worried that he was recognized so easily, James spoke out,

"Wait a second! These sunglasses didn't trick you? Damn. I was banking on that. Hopefully no one else will notice me."

Pulling Kizzy lightly by the arm into an abandoned room James took a seat and cracked his neck

"As far as everyone's concerned we're just acquaintances? Well of course that's what they think, it's the truth! Wait... Did you say you were here for business? Then why did you have to flirt with that gentleman you mentioned? Unless... wait... It isn't exactly well known business, now is it?! I knew it! It seems we're here for the same reason then. I know what you do for a living, I had someone tail you for awhile. I'm in the same line of business, I assure you. It seems Mr. Walton has a knack for messing with the wrong people. I'm here on Kates orders, to investigate. I'd assume you're here out of free will, or on an order from Sidious. This works out well... Maybe we can team up and get this asshole off our grounds' eh?"

James stands up and locks the door, and walks around closing every blind in the room. Checking the curtains and carpets for electronic bugs and sweepers, he was satisfied in finding nothing. It would seem Walton, at the very least, wasn't paranoid. Circling back around to the center of the room, James saw Kizzy sitting there with her eyebrows scrunched up, trying to think of reasons as to why they should not partner up. James sighed and chose his words carefully,

"Kizzy, me and you have known each other for a bit of time now. I have nothing but respect for you. I am not trying to "pull one over on you," I am simply trying to make this job as easy as possible. I do not know what your intentions are tonight, but I assure you I would like to make it back home to Naomi before too long. She gets cranky if I'm out of the house too long. As to how I got in? Simple: I threw some mini explosives known as fire crackers into the road. It was the perfect distraction, it lured the guards away and allowed me to slip past the gate."

"Oh, for Chrissake...You're the only man who would wear sunglasses at night. To a party, no less!"

Kizzy stood in the middle of the room, fingering the Star of David on her necklace nervously as she watched the man scour the room and close it off. It wasn't that she didn't want help. It just wasn't in the plan, and that threw her off a little. Plus, working with anyone else could make it more risky...and wait, he'd been tailing her? And she hadn't noticed? What kind of bullshit was that? She snorted and glanced toward the door. An extra pair of hands would help, though. Kizzy sighed in soft defeat before walking to a desk in the corner of the room, pulling out drawers and carefully shuffling through the papers inside before putting them back. She glanced over to James and gave him a taut smile.

Could you start looking for any secret compartments around the room? If you do that, I'll look in the obvious places--you never know how careless a man can be.

She shrugged and picked up the Rolodex on the desk, her quick brown eyes scanning the names and numbers as she flicked hurriedly through them.

James checked the normal spots for secret passages or hiding spots; behind the picture frames, under the rugs, in the closets, and found nothing. This room appeared to be just a sitting room, nothing of any importance was going to be found here. Deciding to amuse Kizzy and look some more, James planned in his mind how this night would end. Maybe they'd end up killing Walton... That would be the easiest way to ensure that he never stepped foor on their grounds again. James shook the idea off and doubted Kizzy would be for it. Admitting defeat James walked back over to Kizzy and explained,

"Kizzy! Think about this logically. If you were throwing a party, and knew that people didn't like you, what would you do with things you wanted kept secret? I know that I would either keep them in a part of the house that had no chance of any patrons going to: the basement or upstairs, or I'd keep the information on my body. Now seeing as there's plenty of tipsy morons here, and more than a fair share of whores looking to make a quick dollar in any one of these rooms; I'd put my money on Mr. Walton having any information with him. What is he doing, anyway?"

James rubbed his temples and tried to ignore the music coming from the party. It was all so tempting to just call it a night while his friendship with Kizzy was in tact, and forget Mr. Walton existed. But Kates would not like this... She would not like it one bit. No, it had to be done. Whether James wanted to or not he knew that he was going to do the job that he came here to do: stop Mr. Walton from treading into the Detroit mobs area ever again.

"Alright Kizzy, anything you may know about this man lay it on me now. This isn't the time to try and judge my character, I want him off my back as much as you do."

Kizzy paused on a card in the Rolodex, memorizing the name and number in a moment before looking up to James with a sigh.

"Walton...he was born in Gary, Indiana...worked his way up through the steel industry, diversified, got tons of money...but he's a cold-hearted son of a bitch. Not just in business, either. He looks like he'd kill any one, man or woman, who touched him, to be honest. Well, not right off the bat...but something in his eyes just kind of scares you."

Kizzy gently set the Rolodex down onto the desk.

So, I don't think that sending a seductress after him will really work....we may convince him that there is urgent business to be tended to in one of these rooms...and knock him out as soon as he gets in. But I really planned it so that he wouldn't know I...well, we were here.

Kizzy tilts her head slightly as she gazes at the shuttered window, her hand once more unconsciously playing with her necklace.

James listens to Kizzy's description of the man and tries to think of a plan. It was crucial the Kizzy didn't get spotted by Walton doing anything less than guest-worthy. He had obviously seen her at the party already... James however had not been seen by Mr. Walton. Blinking a few times and sitting on one of the sofas, James motioned for Kizzy to sit down.

"Alright, this is the plan then. We need to either kill the man, or scare him within an inch of his life to ensure that he doesn't ever dick around with us again. Personally, I prefer killing him. The press wont have a hard time coming up with a cover story for it, he's a rich single male. Plenty of people would want him dead just to lay claims on his cash."

James sticks his hand in his pockets, toying with the tubular item he placed in there earlier. Inside was a needle, a few bullets for his gun, and a hair clip. The needle was for torture, it was easily applicable in almost any situation, whether it be sticking it under peoples fingernails, in their necks', or other places. The bullets were self-explanitory. The hair clip he "borrowed" from Naomi. She occasionally yelled at him because it was her favorite, but the many locks that it helped him pick made the bickering well worth it.

"Which do you prefer? If you wish to not be seen again by this man, then I can do it. Although I hardly think it matters who he sees, if the last thing he remembers is an intense amount of pain... If you catch my drift"

Kizzy scrunched her nose and perched on the arm of the sofa. She plucked at a loose thread in the sofa's brocade while listening to James.

I don't like killing if I can help it. And leaving him alive with torture...may provide a backlash.

The woman scanned her mind, trying to remember any bit of information about the man that may help...he bred polo ponies of some distinction...when he donated money to a cause, it was usually for children's hospitals...he had inherited one of the largest wine collections in the world...of course! Kizzy burst into a short, relieved giggle before digging into her clutch purse and pulling out a tin of Altoids.

"James, dear, if you could go find Mr. Walton's wine cellar and select a fine vintage of Merlot, I'd be much obliged."

Kizzy popped open the tin to reveal a variety of small, multicolored pills. She peered inside and began sorting through them, muttering under her breath all the while.

James nods silently and heads out the main door, shutting it silently behind him. Shaking off Kizzy's reaction he walks around aimlessly, searching for a doorway that would appear to lead to the basement. He didn't understand why she wouldn't simply kill the man, it wasn't that big of a deal. And... how would a bottle of wine help anything? Sure it would help them relax and possibly think a bit easier, but all in all it seemed like a wasted effort. Trying to act as casual as possible, James struck gold. A stone doorway led to a stairwell, heading down. Everyone else was enjoying the party, paying no attention to the man sneaking his way down to the cellar.

Walking quickly but softly, James made sure to step to the outside of each step. All too often the insides rotted out first and creaked. Although
it was very unlikely someone would hear a creak over the noise of the party, he was taking no chances. Skipping the last three steps by jumping, James landed with a soft thud on the cement floor. Taking a look around he saw that dim lights were kept on, giving him plenty of light to see by. It was easy to tell from this cellar that this man did indeed have one of the largest wine collections this side of the world.

The entire cellar, which could easily fit most small houses, held dozens... no hundreds, of rows of sparkling bottles. It was easy to tell which one's were special. They were locked in specially designed containers with a fancy looking lock on the top of it. It seemed that each keyhole was specifically designed differently, meaning a new key was needed for each one. Pulling out the hair pin from his pocket, James expertly began tweaking at the lock with it. Before too long, the lock clicked open and James pulled out an old bottle of wine, one no doubt alone worth thousands. Pocketing it delicately James flew up the stairs, and mingled into the crowd.

Finding his way back to the room where he left Kizzy, James slid into the door and shut it behind him. Turning around and walking to the couch James sat down and pulled the bottle of wine out, setting it softly on one of the cushions. Everything was going too smoothly... Perfectly almost. Looking around James noticed there was only one thing wrong... Kizzy wasn't in the room!

Kizzy glanced up once James closed the door behind him. She looked back down at the pills she had and counted out the number of small pink ovals. Seven. Should be enough for her to have just a little relaxer. She'd probably need it by the time this night was through. Kizzy delicately picked out one pill and slipped it between her lips, tilting her head back and chasing it down her throat with some of her own saliva. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, picturing Mr. Walton in her mind. The man was somewhat short but with rather wiry muscles--maybe 180 pounds at the most. For Kizzy, it took one pill to calm her down, two to make her woozy, and the third one knocked her out for a few hours. So, add on fifty pounds or so...probably would bump it up a pill. Kizzy took four pills out of the tin before slipping it back into her purse.

She clutched them in her palm and looked around for something to use as a mortar and pestle...the room yielded nothing. She rose to her feet and peered out the door. No sign of James, and time was of the essence. She slipped out and began peering into the adjacent rooms, searching desperately for something to grind the pills into dust with. Finally, she found a study--and a clean ashtray sitting next to a shot glass. She hurried over and placed the pills into the ashtray, grinding them hurriedly with the bottom of the glass and keeping an eye over her shoulder.

Once she had finished, she picked up the ashtray carefully and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Then she looked to her left...and then her right. The hallway was a marvel of symmetry, really. To the point that she couldn't remember now which way she'd come from. Maybe the pill was taking too good of effect...she suddenly blinked as the doors slid out of focus. Wait...didn't I take one just before having to get into that bastard Quattlebaum's car? Fuck. We're in for an interesting night if I'm gonna be giddy from these pills. Kizzy shrugged and turned to her left, hoping desperately it was the right way even as the drugs worked through her system to eliminate all worry.

James began to worry as the clock ticked ominously and Kizzy showed showed no sign of returning. Reaching for his hip flask James takes a swig of whiskey and smacks his lips together. Taking his sunglasses off James slowly cleans them with the soft side of his coat jacket, trying to think of a plan. If Kizzy was missing this threw a whole 'nother aspect into the night. Maybe she'd just wandered off to go and try to find some more information on Mr. Walton. That was the absolute best case scenario, anyway.

Opening the door to the main hall James looked to his left, and to his right. There were three rooms on either side of him, hopefully Kizzy was in one of them. he decided he would start at the far right end of the hallway and work his way back, hoping that his random searches through Mr. Walton's rooms' would not raise any suspicion from the patrons of the party. Quickly moving along the hall James realized the party was dying out. It seemed about only half of the guests were still here.

Opening the door to the far right, James peeks his head in to see that it was a spare bedroom. Small and orderly, it was quite obvious no one had been in this room for a very long time. The curtains were drawn and dust covered every surface, the smell of mothballs emanated strongly from the closet. Swiftly closing the door James looked over his shoulder to see if anyone had seen him peeking in, luckily everybody in the place was too busy trying to impress their dates, or not spill their drinks.  

Moving on to the next door James felt his stomach knot up in nervous tension. This was beginning to be one of the strangest nights in his life. Too bad it wasn't even close to being over. Finding that the second door was locked James scrunched his eyebrows together in frustration. He was becoming way too dependent on his skill of picking locks. Digging in his pocket for his hairpin, James smiled briefly as the lock turned out to be one of the easiest he'd ever picked. Entering the room cautiously James looked left and right, not paying attention fully to what was directly in front of him. Stubbing his toe on something James muttered indecent words under his breath, and looked down to see Kizzy sitting on the ground. Relief washed over him instantly, but something was off. She was sitting there quacking like a duck! What the hell had happened?!

Kizzy stared at the wildly whirling pair of shoes in front of her for a second, releasing a few quacks of confusion in the process. She tilted her head slowly up, taking in the man's elongated legs and contorted torso, finally studying his face before bursting into giggles and falling onto her back. She managed to force some words out around her seemingly thickened tongue.

Oh, James! James, Jimmy, Jimbo! I'm glad you're here! I have some pills...

She reached over and picked up the ashtray sitting beside her prone figure, miraculously managing to not spill any of it as she held it toward James.

These things are great! I've been taking them for...for years, since Vence died. But I thought...that Mr. Quat...no...what's his name? Wilson? No, no, no...Mr. Walton! I thought he could use them tonight, in a glass of wine so he doesn't have to feel bad about taking them. Don't you think? Then we could...we could...what was it we could do? Ah, who cares anymore?

She burst once more into giggles and let her head fall back against the plush carpet.

James couldn't help but to let out a laugh at the woman. She was completely stoned, and plainly tripping off of these pills. He had to make sure no one  saw her... If only he knew what kind of pills they were! Or how long they lasted! He tried and failed at asking Kizzy, as every time he began to talk to her she would try and bite him. This woman was off the wall insane, and he couldn't handle it. With a slight sigh he heaved her onto one of the chairs in the room, and smacked her face lightly.

"Earth to Kizzy!" He practically shouted. "We're on an important mission here! If we don't successfully get Mr. Walton to back the hell off of us, he's going to steal quite a bit of money from the mob. I knew I should have just killed him, look at you! You're in no state of mind to be doing any covert ops work." James sat down and rubbed his temples, trying to think of a way out of this mess.

Kizzy stared at James in stunned silence. His words echoed through her head, bouncing around a bit before meandering into the part of her mind that made sense of them. She nodded suddenly, her eyes widening and her head bobbing.

Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Yeah! Walton, money, right! So, we give him the wine, right, with the pills, and he'll be knocked out. I hope four isn't too much. I don't think it is, though. Then we look him over for...ev...evidansk...proof! We look him over for proof that he's doing bad things...and then we turn him into the police!

Kizzy giggled once more, then pulled James closer by his tie and began speaking in a stage whisper.

And the best part is, if he doesn't have anything on him...

Kizzy stifled some more giggles before continuing.

Then we just drop him off a cliff or something!