Today’s song is ‘Reading The Ghost’ by Peter Connelly and Martin Iveson, taken from ‘The Angel Of Darkness’ soundtrack. You can listen to the song HERE and visit the online shop HERE.
I felt conflicted emotions and I slinked my way through the Louvre. On one hand I was extremely pleased to see that security was far from lax, and that priceless Da Vinci’s were being well looked after. However on the other hand, my K2 Impactor was being used to full effect this evening due to said staff.
It was a shame that I was unable to peruse these masterpieces whilst it was quiet. It would seem awfully dramatic of me to clear every member of security, just so I could see the Mona Lisa that little bit clearer. From the glimpse I’d had of her earlier, she looked a little different than typical public perception. I wasn’t able to assess her smile; I had vents to crawl through.
Yet here I was after a successful route on the roof of the Louvre, hiding from a guard behind what I could only assume to be a stationery cupboard. Far less glamorous than the well-dressed hallways and grandiose housings of works of art like downstairs.
His footsteps were ones that were not rhythmic; he would seem to either walk full pelt up and down, or stop and then walk three at a time. It proved difficult of when to peer around my hiding spot. I hadn’t wanted to use brute force; I much preferred using my weapon – it was far less work.
With a scuff of his boots, I peered around the cabinet, armed. It was a small window, so I took it. I fired; sending shockwaves straight through his veins as he shook and dropped to the floor. I stayed low as I went over to him and ransacked his pockets.
A security pass. PERFECT.
I let myself into the surveillance offices and dragged him inside; throwing him on the chair in the corner next to a neglected cheese plant. Poor guy. Hopefully to one of his pals, he’d look like he was having a good night’s rest instead.
With him sorted, I tackled the scene in front of me. Dozens of screens lit the room, buttons sat on the desk in front of me all labelled in French. Thankfully, I was fluent and began to scan for Carvier’s office.
My ears pricked up as I heard more heavy stomps along the floor. I tip toed to the wall which would keep me out of sight until someone was to enter.
Keys jangled and I readied my weapon, holding gloved hands around its grip. I needed these access codes but one more attendee to the slumber party couldn’t hurt matters.
Victoria Pheasey 