Gazelle was the last person that had been brought into the room, from outside the closed doors there was silence while they all waited to begin, and when that door creaked open the sound of addicting laughter could be heard. It rang about it room in a whimsical manner as the light from the hall momentarily brought extra sight to the room.
As the door slammed shut behind her, eyes had to adjust to the dim lighting once again. Her lower body was adorned in leather cladding that stuck to her feminine curves like skin, thigh high boots rested loosely about her legs, a drapey belt hung from her narrow hips holding a six-shooter and ammo. Gazelle’s upper body was covered in a sheer white flowing blouse; shadows which caressed her figure could be seen underneath, along with the outline of perky breast and budded pale pink nipples.
As she made her way to the only seat left the sound of her click clacking heels echoed about the room, while she rounded the tabled the bottom bends of her ass cheeks were exposed by two long slits in those oh so tempting pants. Her hips swayed with every motion in a sultry fashion and as her body moved you could see the contorting muscles of her abdomen tighten.
She could feel eyes land on her body as she passed the other mysterious members, a feeling she was more than used to. The most prominent glare she could feel was the one coming from Vincent, and when her head whipped about to meet his gaze with her own pitch black stormy eyes, his dropped to the table immediately.
After Gazelle’s small entrance everyone in the room would feel a sudden decrease in their energy, just the smallest amount, she was testing the waters so to speak, and the evil of the woman seeped from her very pours like a toxic taint, it radiated from her very being. Quickly reaching her chair she pulled it out to become seated; only she kicked her feet up on the table crossing one leg over the other.
"You have all brought here for a reason. Each and every one of you in this room have a special 'talent' that has brought you to our attention. Each of you possesses an ability that we need. We are the Department of Occult Warfare. Our job is to protect the world from anything out of the norm. Each one of you were chosen- soldiers, crooks, innocents- it doesn't matter who you are, you were chosen for your abilities not your moral code." The older gentleman began to speak, and with his words Gazelle watched him with great intent, thick black lashes batting every so often.
Vincent began his questioning and very suddenly came to the conclusion that he would join, but not Gazelle, that wasn’t enough for her by any means. Paranormal entities, demons, cults, so on and so forth held no real fear for Gazelle, she had fought worse, she had fucked worse, what mattered to her was pay.
“And what do WE get in return?” Her voice rang out in authority. “I’m not signing up to deal with this shit again for a righteous cause. Every person in this room has a price, and mine isn’t low.” A delicate eyebrow was cocked at the end of her statement while her head tilted to the side, a sinister smirk pulling at her full plump lips.
“Well Gazelle, you of all the others here should know we are willing to work with each of you based on your needs, I just so happen to know you aren’t interested in money though.” He paused, his voice void of emotion. “We both know what it is you really want, and I will be sure that at the end of each mission you are a step closer to that goal.”
“And if I say fuck you and walk out of here?” Her smile growing wider at the thought.
“Miss. Kiley, we opened a portal to the Hell’s once and you slithered your way out – we can open it again and force you back in.” Gazelle’s mouth dropped only the slightest amount, a light moisture building up over her forehead.
“I suppose I really have no choice in the matter at hand then.” She leaned back in her seat and began picking at her nails in contemplation. “The Department of Occult Warfare – L-A-M-E” She spoke under her breath possibly only allowing whom ever sat at either side of her to hear. Past that statement she kept silent while the others spoke.
It was then after more answers had been sought by this old man Jackson spoke – in a friendly manner, not a business level – very simply put Gazelle was disgusted at his behavior.
"I'm Jackson Archer by the way, nice to meet you all, Say, what can you all do?" Jackson asked so casually, those deep dark means of sight of Gazelle’s peered at him, her lips twisting in disappointment. Rather than answering the boy with words she simply snorted at him, then gave her attention back to her nails, which she continued picking.