Gig type: Assassination / Extraction
Target(s): Jago Pisano, Isa Pisano
Description:
I want you to take care of a certain Jago Pisano and his wife, Isa Pisano. You'll find their address in the attachment. You'll also find a child in their apartment — a girl, around 15 years old. No matter what they tell you, she's not their daughter. The guy is impotent but never managed to accept that they couldn't have kids because of him. About a month ago, he bought the girl from a couple that apparently needed to leave the country in a hurry. Classic old school human trafficking. No one's seen or heard from the girl since, so she's probably locked up somewhere. No reason for her to stay otherwise. Kill those bastards and get the girl out. Hand her over to the police or take her straight to an orphanage. I don't care. Just make sure she gets out of there.
Additional information:
The address is Rue de Palace 114, floor 27, apartment 164. Jago drives a Fiska Golem. If it's not in the garage, he's not home. Isa's been home all the time since they got their "daughter." Had someone crack the building's database. The code for the front door is 53872. How you get into the apartment is up to you. Let me know when it's done.
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Seems simple enough.
Everything has gone smoothly so far. The code for the front door of the massive skyscraper worked without issue, and the elevator didn't need any extra input. Now that she's in the elevator, she notices how quiet it is. No constant barrage of ads, jingles, or slogans. "So that's what they pay all this money for." She begins to understand why rich people move into flashy towers like this, even if the golden buttons, handles, and decorations in the elevator seem a bit much.
As the elevator doors slide open, she pulls the mask — which she'd been wearing like a beanie — down over her face. Her weapon is still in the right pocket of her pants, loaded and safety off.
The hallway is empty. She walks straight to apartment 164. Once there, she checks the door and the frame — no peephole, no camera. A little unusual for upscale neighborhoods like this but it makes her job easier so she's not going to complain about it. The door looks solid. Solid enough that she's not sure if she could break it down easily, even with her cybernetic arms and legs.
Fortunately, that's not the plan.
Next to the door is a small display where she can either ring the doorbell or scan a fingerprint. She rings. A few seconds later, a woman's voice crackles through the speaker just above the screen.
"Yes? Who is it?" The voice sounds slightly annoyed.
Just like she learned during the few months she worked customer support at Whitdyne, a software company, she puts on her friendliest smile under the mask before answering.
"Mrs. Pisano? I'm with Whitdyne, the company managing this building's software systems. We've received some reports from residents about glitches and system errors. Would you mind answering a few short questions to help us locate and fix the issues?"
A sigh comes through the speaker.
"Fine, but you've got three minutes at most."
Under the mask, she grins. The trick was so simple, it really shouldn't work — but she hears the lock click as the door opens from inside.
The woman standing there is a bit shorter than her, artificially tanned, wearing too much makeup, and has long, straight black hair and fancy looking glasses. Everything about her appearance is neat and polished. Her clothes match the look: a skirt and a high quality blouse, like she just walked out of an office.
Now she looks visibly intimidated as Valerie raises the gun right to her face.
"Shut up. We're going inside, and then we can talk. Nod if you understand."
The woman nods and steps back to let Valerie in. She enters quickly, closing the door behind her with her foot.
The apartment is large and empty. Very minimalist. A few pretentious paintings on the wall, some modern furniture, and a small carpet laid over the marble floor in the living room where they now stand.
"Is your husband home?"
Valerie lowers the gun a little, no longer pointing it directly at her. The weapon's presence should be enough to keep her in line.
"No, he's at work. He won't be back for a few hours."
Valerie strolls through the living room with a nod. She knows the woman is lying. The man's car — the Fiska Golem — was parked in the garage. She'd checked earlier.
"Oh really. Not for a few hours?"
She walks slowly toward the woman and slams the gun's grip into her stomach.
"Call him. Now."
The woman gasps, needing a moment to catch her breath, then nods.
"Jago! Can you come here, please?"
It only takes a few seconds before footsteps echo from one of the hallways. Then, a man steps into the living room.
It takes him a moment to register what's going on, and then he looks at Valerie in shock.
"W-what do you want?" His voice is shaky and full of uncertainty. Valerie points the gun at him, then gestures to the couch.
"Sit. Both of you."