(fer tammylee!!!!!11!! smoooo)
*awaits to be alerted for typos* LOL, my self edits suck.
The routine of the day was simple but exacted to the point of elaborate. Waking well before dawn he performed the duty which those who serve must obey first and foremost: your needs and private activity are never an encumberment to your employer, nor are they ever observed or if you were very good, even known about. He had in fact, taken this philosophy so far that he had not spoken a single word to anyone he had been employed by within his 35 year old life time.
He had been given the assignment of Kit Fancy by the Academy little less than a year prior and though at times, it was demanding, he found a steady pleasure in the work.
Pennington took a great deal of pride that the agent was unaware of his early morning exercises which he took liberal use of the perfectly maintained private gym and then forgoing the buildings stairs, left the premises via the balcony to then run 10 km along the river. By the time Pennington had finished mediation and while he practiced his forms the sun was still hours from the sky.
He bathed meticulously and quickly in his private quarters located behind the kitchen and carefully put on his uniform article by article, saving as always, the white gloves, for last. Being the son of a fine line of British servants that had only served the Royalty of several different countries for several generations and also, the son of a long line of Shoaling Martial Artists who had run a working school in Hong Kong for as long as anyone could remember, it was needless to say that Pennington took his duties very seriously. He checked his clipped and short black hair in the mirror just once and studied his clear hazel eyes for any sign of himself. Servanthood had no room for it.
Fancy was gone on a mission but that did not mean Pennington had time to dawdle or shirk his chores. Forgoing the set of tea and fresh fruit the Agent usually ignored at the table, he instead walked through the pre-dawn dark flat and headed up the winding stairs that lead to Agent Fancy's private rooms and more, importantly, his own days mission.
Walking into Fancy's expansive bedroom he proceeded into the ample walk in closet and walked the considerable length of it until he reached the large three panels of the vanity mirror. Swinging it aside Pennington frown as his fingers danced over the keypad which quickly released the hidden door with a swooooosh.
He stepped into the brightly lit chamber letting the door seal behind him.
This would not do. Pennington looked at the carefully laid rifles, pistols, shoulder braced grenade launchers, crossbows, explosives and assortment of knifes. Agent Fancy was a bit more tidy than most he'd dealt with but the state half of his equipment came back in from the field was deplorable. Clicking a black demolition case open, Pennington scowled down at the inevitable sight of improperly arranged jumbled wires, plastics and timers.
As he was about to start dismantling each piece of each firearm to carefully oil and clean, a bank of monitor screens which sat dark along the wall flickered to life.
Pennington paused and studied the close circuit cameras that surveyed the 3 floors of the flat. The silent security system then activated, sending a row of lights across a grid of the building's schematic and then centering on a precise location of forced entry. First floor back stair entry to the fire escape. Directing the bank of the cameras in the dark flat, he then switched the cameras to infrared. Pennington carefully watched the red glow of a human form pause on the doors threshold and then finally, enter.
Calmly calculating that it was a Caucasian male, six feet two inches tall and weighing 185 pounds, Pennington took stock of the blades that were stacked in rows against the wall. He chose the two smallest and lightest and after one quick glance back at the close circuit, decided he would take care of this business in the foyer because he had just had the livingroom wood floors buffed and waxed.
Knowing that the intruder had only one of two directions to proceed further onto the premises, he paused at the top of the stairs to see which way they would travel. To his surprise, the early morning quiet was disrupted when what he knew was a 18th century antique table screeched across the floor as if someone had walked right into it. He gritted his teeth when then shortly there after he heard what he also knew sat on top of said priceless table, was a Tiffany crystal vase as it shattered.
Infuriated, Pennington decided to forgo the conveniently cleanable foyer floors and take care of this immediately. Dropping easily down the side of the stairwell he was standing right behind his target.
The struggle was less than brief and Pennington was satisfied that this would take only a few more moments of his day so he could return to the more important duties he was determined to complete before afternoon tea.
The overhead chandelier lights suddenly snapped on.
"Very nice work Pennington," Agent Fancy was standing in his arctic camo gear by the aforementioned foyer. Pennington could already see that the white jacket had blood stains on it. He frowned. That would have to soak all night.
Agent Fancy cleared his throat. "..but we need him to do our paperwork."
Pennington looked down at the man under him, which he had effectively floored and whom, was in the process of being asphyxiated.
Watts. A decidedly wide eyed and pale Nigel Watts.
Pennington released the man and stood up carefully adjusting his sleeves and brushing off the crease on his uniforms trousers.
Watts gasped as his airflow returned and he sputtered to a stand. "You couldn't just have a MAID now COULD you! HONESTLY!" He did his best to glare at everyone present as he collected himself. "The next time you ask me to meet you Agent Fancy, it will be at a CAFE!"
Pennington, now that the lights were on, looked regrettably towards the glittering remains of the vase and his scuffed floor.
The agent regarded it as he began to remove his gear. "After you've given it a nice burial we'll all need a drink."
Pennington flinched as Fancy set his snow damp pack on an upholstered chair.
"Make Watts a double."
Sighing, and after a short cold look in Watts direction, Pennington moved to comply.