Lyric Opera
Principal Artist Auditions
Lyric Opera Kc
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Lyric Opera Of The North
Auditions are by appointment only (through management or individual-arranged). For more information contact Sarah Zsohar at
[email protected]. If you are going to be in the Kansas City area and would like to inquire about auditioning, please send your resumé and request to Sarah Zsohar at
[email protected].
Additional Auditions
Children's Chorus Auditions
Support the Lyric. When you donate to Lyric Opera, you help us bring world-class opera to Kansas City and broaden our reach into the community through our many education programs. Text KCOPERA to (855) 735-2437 to donate now! Lyric Opera of Kansas City is a 501(c)(3) organization with Tax ID number. Connecticut Lyric Opera is pleased to announce that the National Endowment for the Artworks has awarded a grant in the amount of $24,000 for “To support the presentation and tour of The Emperor of Atlantis (Der Kaiser von Atlantis) by Composer Viktor Ullmann. Contact Us Please send all payments or contributions to our secure lockbox:Boston Lyric OperaDepartment 1660P.O. Box 986500Boston, MA Boston Lyric Opera Administrative Office133 Federal Street, Suite 800Boston, MA 02110Phone: 617.542.4912Fax: 617.542.4913Directions to the BLO Administrative OfficeBLO's administrative office is located on the eighth floor of 133 Federal Street and can. Lyric Opera of the North is a Professional Company Member of Opera America. Thank you to our Corporate Sponsors for their support Operating support is made possible in part by the voters of Minnesota through a grant from the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund.
Used in 52 countries - FREE for the public, FREE 30 day trial for DJs. Karaoke and DJ digital song books on mobile devices - requests sent to your DJ/KJ laptop! Also integrates with PCDJ™ karaoki and MTU Hoster. Karaoke song books on mobile devices. Mobile phone karaoke song books, karaoke song list search, mobile karaoke song search. Songbook list. How To Get Songs Into SongBook. SongBook stores all songs and playlists in a directory on your disk. You can change the song directory on the Settings page. Use Windows Explorer to copy your song files into the SongBook directory, then tap Refresh to update the song list. A sample song Greensleeves is available via the bottom right menu.
Auditions for Lyric Opera main stage production Children’s Choruses are held on a per need basis. Audition information will be listed below if a Children’s Chorus is needed for a production.
Supernumerary Information
Help the show go on! Armida opera. Volunteer to be a supernumerary (super) in a Lyric Opera of Kansas City production. For more information about becoming a super or to request that your name be placed on a contact list for open opportunities, contact Sarah Zsohar at
[email protected].
Orchestra Information
Members of The Kansas City Symphony comprise the orchestra used for performances by the Lyric Opera of Kansas City. For audition information, please call the symphony’s administrative offices at (816) 471-1100 or visit kcsymphony.org.
New Visions Spring 2021 Season
It’s springtime in Kansas City, and we are celebrating by announcing our New Visions 2021 Spring season! Our popular outdoor Soundscapes in the City programming returns with performances at Powell Gardens in Missouri and Meadowbrook Park in Prairie Village, Kansas. Then, play ball with us on May 7th for the opening of Baseball: A Musical Love Letter. Join us as we reflect on American society and culture through the lens of our favorite pastime, baseball.
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Gift certificates are currently not available for purchase on our website, so please call Ticketing & Patron Services at (816) 471-7344. A gift certificate can be emailed directly to you or to the recipient!
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Past Seasons and Performances
2019-2020
Mainstage Season:
The Abduction from the Seraglio, September 21 – 29, 2019
La bohème, November 9 – 17, 2019
Lucia di Lammermoor, March 7 – 15, 2020
The Shining, April 25 – May 3, 2020
Explorations Series:
“…When there are nine,” January 18, 2020
Cabaret: In the Mood for Love, February 1, 2020
2018-2019
Mainstage Season:
West Side Story, September 22 – September 30, 2018
Madama Butterfly, November 3 – November 11, 2018
Cosí fan tutte, March 16-24, 2019
The Pearl Fishers, April 27 – May 5, 2019
Lyric Opera Kc
Explorations Series:
High Fidelity Opera, November 17, 2018
Cabaret: Mack the Knife is the Man I Love, February 9, 2019
Penelope, March 30-31, 2019
2017-2018
Famous Opera Lyrics
Main Stage Season:
Eugene Onegin, September 30 – October 8, 2017
Everest, November 11 – 19, 2017
Rigoletto, March 3 – 11, 2018
The Barber of Seville,April 28; May 2, 4, and 6, 2018
Explorations Series:
Meet the Resident Artists, September 24, 2017
Arias and Barcarolles | The Bernstein Songbook, October 14, 2017
As One, January 27-28, 2018
American Voices, March 24, 2018
2016-2017
Main Stage Season:
Lyric Opera Kcmo
Hansel and Gretel, September 17 – 25, 2016
The Marriage of Figaro, November 5 – 13, 2016
Dead Man Walking, March 4 – 12, 2017
The Pirates of Penzance, April 22 – 30, 2017
Lyric Opera Of The North
Explorations Series:
Meet the Resident Artists, September 11, 2016
Schubert | Beatles, October 1, 2016
The Juliet Letters, January 28 and 29, 2017
American Voices, March 19, 2017
Update
In the face of this uncertain and unpredictable public health epidemic, we determined it was in the best interest of our patrons, our artists, staff, volunteers, and musicians to postpone the rest of the 2020-2021 season until we can best determine that they are safe for all concerned. The postponed performances include The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs scheduled for Feb. 27 – Mar. 7, 2021, and Carmen scheduled for Apr. 24 – May 2, 2021.
Subscribers for our 2020-2021 season will receive a credit to their Lyric Opera accounts for the value of their tickets for postponed performances. These credits can be applied to subscriptions to our 2021-2022 season and will be noted on renewal information when distributed. If you would prefer to discuss other options, please email
[email protected] or call us. Our ticketing staff is available to help 9:00 am – 5:00 pm Monday – Thursday.
On July 7, 2020, we announced the cancellation of our Fall 2020 productions including La Traviata scheduled for Sept. 26-Oct 4, 2020 and The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess scheduled for Nov. 7-15, 2020. Subscribers who did not request a refund or donated the value of their tickets by September 10, 2020 have received a credit to their Lyric Opera account.
Lifehacker lastpass. Whether you’re looking to make a change in your password management just because, or you’re a LastPass user annoyed with the service’s recent changes to its free tier, switching to the much. LastPass lives inside your browser as an extension. It’s available for just about every major browser, including Chrome, Firefox, Safari, and Opera. Head to the LastPass downloads page and install. With your LastPass data retrieved, head to the 1Password website and sign in. Click on your account name in the top right of the page and select Import. Select LastPass and then choose the relevant.
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I Hate You, I Love You
For the anon who asked: for a enemies to lover fic (sorry lovie I can’t find the actual request and I usually write them in bullet points in my book)
Author’s Note: In Microsoft Word this is 18 pages long and has a word count of 7344 words. Hope you guys enjoy it!
y/n = your name
y/f/n = your first name
y/l/n = your last name
I Hate You, I Love You
The waves lapped softly under the bridge. The light from the street lamps reflected off the water like orange jewels. I huffed a heavy sigh and raised my face to the glittered sky, allowing the chilly, wind to caress my face and toy with the loose strands of hair on my head. I swallowed the lump in my throat, the saliva in my mouth thick making it almost impossible to go down. I crunched the picture in my hand and leaned against the cold metal railings. A slight wetness from the afternoon shower clung to the metal and soaked into the forearms of my jacket.
I lowered my eyes to the crumpled picture in my hand. Dark almond male eyes stared back at me. Gently I caressed the photo, following his long straight nose with my thumb and tracing the outline of his strong bearded jaw. I looked up again and stared out at the horizon, it was lit up like a Christmas tree.
“I’m sorry John,” I whispered and let the photograph slip from my fingers into the water below.
***
Several Months Ago
“Y/n I have an assignment for you,” drawled Crowley, as he offered me an enveloped package.
I took it from his withered hand and opened it. Carefully I removed the contents – a manila folder and read it.
“The usual?” I asked, my eyes scanning the kill order and the picture of the target.
A glass clinked “, yes and the money will be wired into your account upon completion of the job.”
I stood and repackaged the folder “, until then.”
***
The rough concrete was cutting into my stomach from where I lay. I shifted slightly, my eye looking through the scope of the sniper rifle, for my target. Any moment now he would walk through the door of his office and sit at his desk which was framed by a huge glass window.
Movement caught my eye – show time. The door swung open and the salt haired target stepped inside. I steadied myself and fixed my line of sight. Slowly I breathed. The man walked to the corner right of the room and removed his jacket. A bit closer and that money would be mines for the taking. Forcefully he tugged on his tie loosening it and crossed to his desk.
He was in sight. I placed my finger on the trigger, the cross-hairs lining up with his head. Suddenly he moved off. I frowned and eased the pressure on the trigger. The door to his office opened once again and a tall slender, sharply dressed gentleman stepped in. I couldn’t see his face, as he was standing far back in the room.
I wiggled on the ground again trying to dislodge the knobby bits of concrete from my ribs. Two bright bursts exploded in the room and my target fell.
“What the fuck?!” I whispered harshly, gripping the rifle tightly in my hand.
I turned up the magnification on the scope to get a better look. My target was crawling towards the window. The new competitor followed, bringing himself fully into the light. Surprise coursed through my veins when I saw his face.
“Baba Yaga,” I whispered to the wind.
Another burst of light erupted in the room. Hastily, I lined up my competition and fired. The glass shattered and his body jerked back violently as the bullet connected. I cocked the rifle, expelling the used shell with a clink and fired again. I missed as he bolted through the door.
Rapidly I stripped and stowed the rifle, heat burning through my body. Someone had just taken my target. Sirens blared in the distance and I ground my teeth at the outcome of events.
I arrived at my employer later that day.
I burst into his room, shoving aside his secretary.
“Someone else took the target,” I hissed through clenched teeth at my employers turned form. Rotting bastard had just cost me seven million dollars.
Crowley waved his hand “, Octavia can you leave us please?”
The curvy, brunette, secretary shot me a dirty look before slamming the door shut behind her.
“Bitch,” I muttered under my breath.
His leather office chair creaked as he reclined further “, is that so?”
I stood akimbo, huffing, eyes narrowed at the chair “, what do you what me to do?”
The chair spun with a squeak “, I have another person who has trouble sleeping that I’d like you to help.”
Slowly he leaned sideways and pulled out a similar looking package from the drawer.
He tossed it across the table “, same price and make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
I swiped it off the table and left with a bang of the door.
***
Crowley smiled smugly to himself as y/n left. He picked up the phone and dialed his secretary.
“Octavia, love be a doll and ring up Stewart from me and tell him the bet is on?” he drawled into the phone.
“Right away sir,” she responded crisply “, anything else I could do for you sir?”
Crowley pondered a moment before replying “, bring your cute little ass in here and keep my lap warm.”
***
Thoroughly I read the file. Malcolm Whittaker, another high-profile banker was my next target. In two days he would be attending a conference for world bankers. He’d be arriving by plane and from the airport he’d head straight to the meeting.
I rocked myself in the recliner, studying the pictures I had taken earlier of the building designated for the conference. The walkway to the entrance of the building were lined with palm trees at least ten feet apart. The surrounding area was littered with high rise buildings. Many places where I could easily hide and get away. The multilevel car park looked highly appealing.
Whittaker was a man in a high position so that meant there would be press coverage. The best place to get him would be the entrance walkway to the building.
At my hotel room, I gathered and packed my supplies.
***
Despite the windy conditions, I was pleasantly happy that I didn’t have any concrete digging into my body. Hidden behind a white panel van in the multi-level parking lot that was several levels taller than the meeting place I waited, crouched down with the rifle braced on the concrete culvert. I checked my watch, ten more minutes till eight, any moment now.
A crowd and the press were already gathered outside waiting for Whittaker. I blew into my hands warming them before rubbing my palms together vigorously. A car passed behind me and I shrunk back slightly. Despite being properly hidden I could help but felt a little paranoid about being discovered.
I looked through the scope, a line of black SUV’s were driving in the direction of the bank. Show time. I hunkered down and fixed the magnification on the scope. With the sight directed on the black cars, I followed their arrival.
The crowd began clamouring as the vehicles came into view. My target emerged from the middle car, a wall of security buzzing around him. What kind of banker needed this kind of security? I slowed my breathing as I focused all my senses on the target. I lined him up in the cross-hairs, the guards and pedestrians making a clear shot currently impossible. I waited, patiently.
The press swarmed him, pushing his security detail out of the way. A pathway cleared and I depressed the trigger. Whittaker’s head jolted forward, red matter flew out the side of his head as he crumpled to the ground. Chaos ensued, people running, screaming and shoving each other to flee from the scene.
I gave the area one final sweep through the scope, making sure Whittaker was dead. I smiled smugly to myself, seven million dollars was mines. Now I could take that lovely Caribbean vacation I always wanted.
A dark, crisply dressed solitary man caught my attention. I pulled back from the scope alarmed, the Baba Yaga was in the crowd, hand tucked into his jacket and staring up at my position. He moved and began walking towards the parking complex.
Swiftly I stripped the rifle and chucked it in the case. I ran to the car I had stolen from the police compound and fled. It was so very hard not to sink my foot on the gas and fly out of there. I gripped the steering wheel with clammy palms as I reached the last level. Ever so slowly I exited the complex. Baba Yaga stood across the road casually holding a newspaper. Recognition lit his dark eyes as they locked on mines while I exited the building. The papers dropped and his hand flew to his jacket. I floored it and sped out onto the street.
Shit he’d seen me, I lamented, and he knew who I was.
I jumped as my phone rang. Pulling it from my pocket I checked the screen, I had been sent a message. I parked on the shoulder and opened it – seven million dollars have been deposited into your account. I smiled like the Grinch and pulled back onto the freeway.
***
A phone was ringing however I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming it. The sound grew louder. Nope I wasn’t dreaming it. I groaned and rolled, my hand patting wildly across the bed for the ringing monstrosity. I found it tucked under a pillow. I swiped my thumb across the screen and brought it to my head.
“Hello?” I croaked, my voice thick with sleep.
“I have someone who needs help sleeping,” drawled a voice on the end and the phone disconnected.
I flipped onto my back and tossed the phone aside. I groaned as I sat up and began dressing, it was still dark outside.
I shrugged on my coat and stepped out into the frigid air. Slowly I rolled my neck, removing any lingering sleepiness. I slapped my hands to my face in quick succession before taking in a huge gulp of air. The frostiness dried and burned my throat, awakening my senses even more.
Alrighty then, time to go make some mula!
I arrived at Crowley’s estate, the lavish mansion was lit up like a Christmas tree. I always wondered when I was a child what kind of people lived I such houses. Eventually I got my answer. I chuckled to myself as I waited for the guard to open the gate to the grounds. I drove up the long driveway and stopped in front of the entryway. Immediately it opened and Octavia, Crowley’s personal assistant exited holding a very familiar manila envelope.
“Mr. Crowley, apologizes that he isn’t able to meet you at the moment,” announced Octavia when she spotted me “, he has asked me to give you this.”
She offered me the envelope and I couldn’t help but smile a bit smugly to myself as I took it from her outstretched hand.
“Is something the matter?” she snarled.
I chuckled this time “, it’s not, really – .”
I shrugged and walked towards my car, Octavia folded her arms and frowned.
“I just wish I had someone who went above and beyond the call of duty the way you do.”
Her shoulders bunched “, I don’t believe I follow what you’re talking about.”
I slid into the car “, might want to put a little foundation on that hickey on your neck or someone will think you got mauled.”
Her hand flew to her neck as her eyes widened.
“Next time tell Crowley to meet me directly. This wasn’t our agreement and if this happens again he’ll have to find someone else to work for him.”
I shut the door, turned the key and sped down the driveway back to my room.
The sun was beginning to peek through the sheer curtains. I grumbled to myself and plopped on the unmade bed. Slipping my thumb beneath the flap I ripped it open and dumped the contents onto the bed, three folders fell out.
“What’s this?” I muttered and checked through the number of folders again. I was right, there was three.
I opened the top folder and read the order - Iccha Patel, some oil tycoon. I pulled the second file – Yuri Vladimir, diamond investor and mine owner. Alright, last one. I checked the contents – Marco Polo – ambassador to the United Nations. I froze – wait – was his name really Marco Polo? I doubled checked the file.
“Hmm your parents must have hated you,” I mumbled.
Another issue crossed my mind, why three files at once? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Crowley’s private line.
“Hello y/n, I see you’ve got the packages,” greeted Crowley.
“Why three?” I questioned, wasting no time.
He chuffed on the other end “, always so abrupt aren’t you.”
He fell silent and I waited for him to respond.
“Silent pressure right? They’re all in some urgent need of sleep and each one is interdependent of each other. Hence three at once.”
“Price?”
“Seven million a piece, but, if you help them before the new week starts, I’ll double the final price.”
“Consider it done and I trust you got my message.”
“I did.”
“Good,” I replied and disconnected the line and tossed the phone across the bed.
I stared at the profiles before me, three targets before the new week starts, no problem.
I slid off the bed and turned on my laptop and began digging through every aspect of their life I could find.
Several hours later I dropped back onto the bed exhausted. The room had darkened and only the blue light emanating from my laptop illuminated a small fraction of the bed. I groaned, stretched and turned over onto my stomach, it rumbled angrily, I hadn’t eaten since my visit with Crowley and I was beyond famished.
I flipped on the bedside lamp and closed the laptop. I crawled off the bed and began stripping as I made my way to the shower. My clothes leaving a trail as I moved. I hopped out of my dirty underwear and tossed it into the hamper, I’d collect the other clothes when I came out. The hot water was soothing against my skin and I purred as it slid over my body. I was almost reluctant to leave the warmth of the shower but my stomach kept protesting.
“Alright, alright, I’ll get you some food soon,” I murmured while rubbing my damp stomach.
I toweled off and dressed restaurant worthy, which in my case meant a wide legged black trousers, slim fitting white shirt, pearl stud earrings and red pumps. Pulling my hair back, I swept it back into a high pony tail. Giving myself a once over in the mirror I left for the restaurant.
The elevator ride was quick and I stepped off on the ground floor and headed towards the restaurant. The gran décor marveled me every time I entered the room.
The crystal ball chandelier hung seemingly by a thread in the centre of the room. Each hand cut crystal globule shimmering like diamonds and refracting the light brilliantly across the ceiling. The setting otherwise was very French country, the walls coated in mild pastels that seemed almost white and lined with gold. It was a large open space with close to one hundred dining spots. The tables and linen as well were white, with hydrangeas of pink, blue and green in short rounded vases adorning every table.
I spotted a familiar face tucked away in a corner table sipping a glass of wine. Their bespectacled, dark head declined, reading away.
“Winston,” I greeted as I approached the table.
Crystal blue eyes lifted to mines.
“Y/n!” he greeted and stood “, please, have a seat!”
“No, no, no,” I said declining his offer while he pulled out a chair for me to sit “, I don’t want to disrupt you.”
“Nonsense!”
I smiled knowing it to be futile to fight with him and sat. Winston raised his hand signalling the waiter. A crisply dressed man greeted and offered me a menu. I read through the food offered, unsure of what to pick.
“Um,” I began, pursing my lips “, I’ll have the steak – well done and whatever he’s drinking.”
He nodded in agreement, took the menu and left.
Winston peered at me over his glasses “, so how have you been?”
I raised my eyebrows “, I’ve been well – you?”
“The same old thing, taking care of my place and growing old.”
“Still as handsome as ever tho.”
Winston laughed heartily and took a sip of his drink, the deep violet liquid swirling in the glass. The waiter arrived quickly with my meal and left a bottle of wine, which Winston promptly poured for me. Hungrily I dug in completely forgetting Winston. A quiet snort pulled my attention off my food. I looked up to see Winston gazing at me with a bemused expression.
“Sorry,” I apologised, my cheeks heating “, been busy with some work and I didn’t have a chance to eat.”
“You mean stealing my work,” came a deep male voice behind me.
“Jonathon!” marveled Winston.
I froze, the food in mid-chew. Suddenly a chilled wind slinked into the room.
“Winston,” he returned good naturedly.
Winston held out a hand towards and empty seat to my right “, please sit. Would you like something to eat?”
He nodded and the waiter returned as he sat.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” said the Baba Yaga.
Slowly I chewed the food in my mouth and swallowed, the food going down my throat hard. I took a sip of the wine to help it slide down a bit easier.
“Have you two met as yet?” asked Winston.
I raised my head to him, for a second I was stunned. He was handsome. Inky black hair was pushed off a broad forehead, dark almond eyes were framed by strong equally inky brows, a long straight nose, full pink lips and a strong bearded jaw.
I wiped my hand on the napkin and offered it to him “, y/f/n y/l/n.”
He grasped my hand firmly, the rough pads of his fingers lightly scraping the backs of my hand.
“I know who you are,” he responded and shook my hand firmly.
“I’m –,” he began.
“John Wick,” I cut in “, I know who you are as well.”
Winston watched us interact with weary eyes.
Grasping the column of the glass he raised it towards us “, might I make a toast?”
We nodded in unison and grasped our drinks and held them afloat.
“To new friends and old ones,” announced Winston and moved his glass towards ours.
We clinked them in the centre of the table and took a long generous drink.
Winston swallowed and turned his crystal blue eyes on me “, what’s this about stealing work, now?”
I returned my glass to the table just as the waiter finished placing John’s meal on the table. I waited for him to cut into the food and chew before answering.
“John killed the target I was contracted to kill,” I answered simply.
I felt those dark eyes slid to me and narrow slightly. I continued with my meal as John chewed mindfully. He wiped the napkin over his mouth and angled himself to me.
“Thank you for the lovely gift by the way.”
“What gift?” I pondered and placed a forkful of salad into my mouth.
He dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and plunked a deformed sniper slug on the white linen “, this.”
I stared at it for a fraction of a second before picking it up and rolling it between my fingers.
“Why thank you darling, but, a gift is a gift,” I cut John a wicked smile “, don’t you know it’s rude to return a gift?”
Winston’s eyes darted between us both. The temperature in the room literally dropped as we stared each other down.
“Do remember the Continentals’ rules,” cut in Winston.
I smiled in a friendly manner at Winston to reassure him I did and continued with my meal.
“Did you have a contract for Whittaker as well?” I blurted out without thinking.
“What do you think?” he murmured, before taking another sip of wine.
The conversation came to a close then. All the while Winston kept a close eye on both of us while we ate. I finished and signaled the waiter to clear my dishes.
Placing the napkin on the table I stood “, Winston, dear, always a pleasure.”
I turned to leave and found John standing as well, his meal halfway done and a forkful of food on standby at the edge of the dish.
“Mr. Wick,” I said stiffly.
“Miss y/l/n,” he replied equally stiffly “, I do hope I don’t see you at anymore of my job sites.”
I cut him a side glance, his full lips were set slightly downwards.
“Likewise, Mr. Wick, likewise.”
I nodded at Winston again and left for my room, my hands clenched in tiny balls. Somehow, I had a feeling I would be seeing Mr. Wick again and it wouldn’t be casually.
***
“Hello again Mr. Wick!” I shouted above the roar of wind.
“Miss y/l/n!” he replied.
Quickly I glanced around the edge of the building. A bundle of green and blue barrels saluted my eyes, along with a metal ladder descending off the far side of the building. Shots whizzed through the air and I pulled back, pressing my spine into the brick. The edge of the wall exploded into bits of red sand.
“Are you really trying to kill me?!” I called out, estimating how I could make a run for the ladder.
I dropped down onto one knee and opened fire at the brink wall to the other end. I looked out quickly again, the flammable sign on the barrels catching my eye. I fired again before he had a chance and rolled out behind the barrels.
I was down to one clip and I slid it into my glock. Wick fired again at my previous position. I gazed between gaps of the barrels and saw there were some of the same kind of barrels close to where he was positioned. I hoped I could do a flash special for what I had in mind. I gulped in some air and stood, exposing my body. Quickly my eyes found my target, however Wick was quicker. He spotted me and fired, hitting me in the stomach. I grunted in pain, the searing burning sensation filling my abdomen. I fired, the bullet catching my intended target. I sped off towards the ladder as fast as I could an inferno raging behind me as the other barrels exploded.
Warm, sticky blood leaked down my left side soaking my shirt and pants as I struggled to make my way down the ladder. I was gasping for air by the time I reached the bottom. On wobbly legs I moved, my body becoming sluggish from the loss of blood. Blindly, with my hand pressed firmly to my stomach I ran into a neighbouring alleyway to get my bearings. My breath was coming out in short, shallow gasps. That’s when I saw it, a sleek grey and black, vintage 1989 Mustang, more formally known as John Wick’s baby.
I grinned to myself and hobbled to it. Thankfully the door was open and the keys even more luckily, were in the ignition.
“Oh thank God,” I grunted and got in.
I bounced the starter and the car purred to life beneath my hands. For a second I totally got why Wick loved this car, then I remembered I hated him. Taking my bloodied hand, I smeared it over the dashboard and everywhere else I could touch. It was petty but it was revenge.
“Take that bitch,” I grunted “, I hope it doesn’t wash out.”
I spied a white tee in the back seat and grabbed it. Using my teeth as leverage I split it down the centre and bandaged my wounded abdomen.
Woozily, I started the car and drove out into the traffic and back to the Continental.
I stumbled through the front doors and made my way to Charon.
“Hello, Miss y/l/n it’s very good to see you,” he greeted, his earthen skin gleaming under the fluorescent lights “, how may I help you today?”
“Can you please send the doctor to my room? It’s urgent,” I said through gritted teeth.
He gave me a once over, his sharp eyes detecting the extent of my damage.
He inclined his head slightly “, certainly madam, might I get someone to escort you to your room?”
Unable to answer I nodded. Immediately a smartly dressed gentleman firmly but gently grasped my upper arm and guided be behind Charons’ booth. Carefully I was placed in a wheelchair out of the public’s eye, where I was rolled to the service elevator.
The last thing I remembered were the silver doors of the elevator closing and me looking like I had just crawled out of hell sitting in a wheelchair reflecting back at me.
***
A pounding on the door woke me. I groaned and cussed. I made to sit up but immediately fell backwards and cussed some more. For lack of a better term, I felt like utter shit. Like someone had taken my insides, removed them and connected them back in a different order.
“Go away,” I croaked, my throat dry.
The pounding stopped and I sighed happily, now I could go back to sleep for a bit.
“Where are the keys to my car?” rasped a man.
I opened my eyes. Ah shit! John Wick was standing in my room looking as equally crappy like myself with his singed hair, bruise marks littering his face, a limp in his step and a cast on his arm.
“I think it’s in the bedside table,” I whispered, somehow relieved I hadn’t killed him. He limped to the right side and opened the drawer, not there. Wick hobbled round the other side of the bed and opened the other drawer, I heard the clink as he withdrew the keys.
A low groan escaped his lips and he sat on the bed, his body doubling over.
“Just lie down and sleep,” I told him “, it’s not like I could kill you here anyways.”
I closed my eyes again, disappointed I didn’t get to keep the car. I felt him raise from the bed, two dull thuds hit the floor and the rustle of clothes. The bed sank again. I felt the comforter pull back and cool air rush in, then it was warm again.
“You got the kill by the way,” mentioned Wick.
“Two, one,” I mumbled half asleep.
He grunted beside me. His large body radiating delicious warmth me making me even more sleepy.
***
I was warm, so warm and comfortable. I snuggled into the warmth. It was also soft and it moved? I cracked open my eyes to find my head snuggled into a broad chest. A male chest. Confused I pulled back slightly and looked up at the owner of the chest. Inky hair splayed across a white pillow greeted me. I gasped lightly. He had stayed the night.
Wick was breathing deeply and evenly, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I studied him quietly. He had full, thick eyelashes that curled slightly and almost touched the tops of his cheeks. Not to mention his mouth was ever so slightly parted. There was a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose like some star constellation.
Unconsciously I reached out and stroked one of his midnight brows. Tracing my finger across the fine hairs from beginning to tip, down his cheekbone and along his nose. He shifted slightly and draped an arm over my midsection, pulling me closer to his body. Sleep called to me again, I didn’t want to get up but I had to. Internally I groaned, tucked my head into his chest once more inhaling deeply before sneaking out of the bed.
Grabbing the phone off the hook I creeped into the bedroom and dialed reception.
“Hello good morning,” answered the front desk “, how may I help you?”
I peeked at the bed, John was still sleeping.
“Can I get an omelette, with a side of bacon and some coffee at room 257 please?” I whispered into the receiver.
“Certainly mam’,” and they hung up.
I creeped out of the bathroom, grabbed my bag with my documents and a change of clothing and hustled back into the room. Quickly I changed and rummaged through the files to make sure they hadn’t been tampered with while I was sleeping. Everything seemed to be in place and I exited the room.
I approached the bed once again, dropped onto all fours and pulled my sniper rifle case out as quietly as I could. On the floor, I opened the case and withdrew a fully loaded glock.
I stared at John sleeping peacefully on the bed, the fully loaded glock grasped in my hand. I could kill him now and get rid of any further complications. The warmth and softness of his body flashed through my mind. I closed my eyes and shook my head sharply, dispelling the memory.
A soft knock sounded on the door. I holstered the weapon and opened the door to find a food tray out in the hall. I lifted the cover revealing the food I’d ordered. Grasping the handles of the cart I rolled it inside and placed it in front of the bed. Swiping a page off the desk I was working at I wrote a message and placed it on the bedside table by John’s head.
I took one last look at the room before leaving. Iccha Patel was dead so that left Yuri. He was supposed to be having dinner today at an open-air restaurant. Easy peasy… hopefully.
***
I set up my equipment on the top of the building overlooking the restaurant. Yuri had just arrived and was talking to someone inside of the building. I sat down and pressed my back to the concrete and bit into an energy bar I had bought earlier. John flitted through my mind, the gentle sleeping expression on his face, the comforting weight of his arm around my mid-section.
I groaned and smacked my forehead. I needed to stop thinking about him. A cough alerted me to someone’s presence. My hand flew to my glock.
“Thank you for breakfast,” said a familiar voice.
Despite myself I smiled as a slight fluttering began in my stomach.
“Your welcome and thank you for the car,” I replied with a smile.
He approached me dressed in his usual formal attire, a black suit, white shirt and tie. He chuckled and held out his hand which I deposited his car keys in.
He leaned on the concrete railing and looked out at the darkening surroundings.
“Let me guess Vladimir?” he asked.
I nodded, the fluttering increasing. I stood, joining him at the railing.
“Why do I get the feeling someone is pitting us against each other?” I sighed.
He looked at me, eyes soft “, you’re not the only one.”
I picked up my rifle and looked through the scope, Vladimir was already dining.
“Take it,” I said, offering John the rifle “, if someone if playing with us let’s even the playing field and see what happens.”
He grasped the rifle and peered through the scope making adjustments as necessary. If someone was pitting us against each other it’s a possibility John also knew about Marco.
I opened my mouth to speak.
“I’m guessing you have a contract on Marco Polo as well,” he cut in while looking down the scope of the rifle.
I stared contemplatively out at the glowing lights of the restaurant. The people dining and milling around looking like ants in the distance.
“Maybe-,” I began, the wheels in my head turning “, different people want the same people terminated?”
“Do you believe that?”
I bunched my shoulders and rested my head on my hands “, nope!”
I tilted my head to him and grinned “, just wishful thinking.”
John stooped down and braced the gun on the concrete railing.
He looked at me, his dark eyes gleaming “, where’s my car?”
I gestured behind me “, alley behind the building.”
He peered back through the scope “, get ready to run.”
A grin creeped its way onto my lips. His shoulder shook slightly with the recoil of the gun. Distant screams filled the air. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me with him towards the car where we dove in and drove off towards the Continental.
“What are we going to do about Marco?” I asked as the car sped down the highway, orange light briefly illuminating the interior.
John turned left and exited onto a side road “, how about we deal with that tomorrow?”
I nodded and stared out the window at the neon lights and pedestrians going about on their business. The Continental, came into view large and luminous. John parked on a side street and we entered the premises together.
“y/n,” called John.
I turned “, yeah?”
His eyes shifted left then right before locking back on me “, how does a drink sound?”
I raised my hand to my chin and tapped it contemplatively “, as long as you’re buying, it sounds wonderful.”
He ducked his head and chuckled, a piece of raven hair escaping his do. I stepped forward and tucked it behind his ear. Time stopped. My fingers lay frozen on the spot behind his ear as his eyes gazed into mines. A warm heat filled my stomach, a sensation I hadn’t felt for a long time.
Suddenly I was pushed into John’s chest. His arms flew up protectively to prevent me from falling. I steadied myself instinctively looking up to already find him looking down at me.
I searched his eyes for a second before asking “, how bout we skip the drink and head to my room?”
He responded by grabbing my wrist, similar to the roof top and towed me to the elevator. The gold doors shut with us alone inside. I punched the number for my floor and that was the only action I was capable of before his lips crashed down on mines. He backed me into the elevator wall with his body and ground his hips against mines. I gasped against his lips as the hardness of his cock rubbed against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
My body was on fire. I needed to feel his skin against mines. My fingers raked down his back and arms. Blindly I pulled at his clothes, somehow, I managed to rip open his shirt, the tie still attached to his neck. I pushed off the wall, side stepping him and pushed John’s back into the elevator. I pulled my lips from his as one of his hands found its way under my shirt and massaged my breast, the other was cupped on my ass. I sucked a trail of possession marks down his chest. He groaned, with each scrap of my teeth, the sound reverberating and rumbling in his chest. I wrenched open the shirt widen revealing his two peaked pink nipples. Hungrily I lapped at them all the while grinding on his cock.
The elevator doors dinged open on my floor. Grasping me by the backs of my thighs John hoisted up onto his hips, his cock rubbing at my core and hurried down the corridor to my room. I pulled out the key card from my jacket and opened the door, entered, hung the do not enter on the handle and locked the door behind us.
We stayed like this for several days, eating in, taking pain medication for our wounds and have sex, lots and lots of hot, heavy, rough sex.
***
“Hello Crowley,” croaked Stewart into the receiver “, let’s up the ante since none have pulled ahead.”
“That sounds like a good idea!” responded Crowley “, let’s initiate it tomorrow.”
“May the best man win.”
“Likewise, Stewart, likewise.”
***
I awoke blissfully sore the next morning. I stretched and tucked myself into John’s warm, slumbering form. The buzz from my vibrating phone caught my attention.
“Oh great,” I grumbled and un-tucked myself from him.
I hurried to the bathroom, gently shut the door behind me. I checked the caller ID, boss shone in blue pixilated letters across the screen.
“Crowley,” I answered in a low voice.
“Apparently, Marco died this morning of a heart attack and you only managed to send Iccha Patel off to sleep… that’s not saying very much about your ability in this job if you aren’t able to help the people I ask you to help,” Crowley scoffed.
I rolled my eyes at his accusation “, the same could be said about you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he retorted.
I shrugged on John’s white shirt, his spicy cologne instantly filling the air around me. Instantly warmth pooled in my core and I felt the ghosted touches of his hands and lips on my body.
“Are you pitting me against someone?” I accused.
“Why would I do something like that?” Crowley replied flatly.
I leaned against the end of the porcelain white tub “, because you’re a bored old man with money to spend and personal vendettas to fill.”
He scoffed and a muffled can you believe this fucking girl snaked through the line. A feminine laugh echoed faintly in the background.
I sighed. “Why are you calling me Crowley?”
“I have one more job for you, it’s urgent.”
The line went dead before I could ask any questions. I stared at the lit screen showing the ended call.
“Jackass,” I huffed and began dressing. Well money was money and I hadn’t filled the quota that’d I have liked to and Crowley seemed to be telling the truth. I wrote John a note and left it for him beside his car keys.
I shrugged on my jacket and stepped out into the night to collect my package.
***
Two greyed men sat across each other in matching maroon terry cotton robes and fluffy house slipper. With legs crossed they sipped amber liquid and puffed smoke like chimneys. The slimmer of the two leaned forward and with a liver spotted hand plucked a white knight chess piece off the board and removed a black bishop from its tile. One more chess piece taken leaving a few key players and pawns on the board.
“Careful Stewart,” cautioned Crowley “, the game’s almost over.”
Slowly Stewart raised his eyebrows “, that doesn’t mean I’m going to loose.”
Selectively he chose his playing piece – a pawn and placed it in front of Crowley’s queen, blocking it from attacking any of his key pieces.
Crowley leaned backwards and laced his knobby leathery fingers together contemplatively.
“It doesn’t mean you’re going to win either,” he murmured, his glassy hazel eyes fixed on the board before him.
***
Now
I stared down the barrel of the gun at John, my eyes involuntarily prickling. John’s glock was also pointed at me, indecisiveness in his eyes. We were both contracted to kill each other and neither of us knew if the other was going to pull the trigger.
Suddenly John shook his head and lowered his weapon.
“It’s alright,” whispered John, eyes dropping, the gun in his hand slack at his side.
The glock trembled slightly in my grip as my eyes brimmed. My heart pounding away in my chest as my brain scrambled at the turn of events. I lowered my arm and my head.
“I can’t,” I gasped trying to supress a sob.
Warm arms banded around my shoulders and pulled me to a broad chest.
I buried my face into John’s shoulder “, I love you.”
Gently he rocked me as tears leaked down my cheeks “, I love you too.”
He released me after a few minutes. Taking my hand, he lead me back inside the Continental. It was early in the morning so the vicinity was mostly devoid of life. With our fingers laced together we walked to the front desk where we were greeted by Charon.
“Mr. Wick, Miss y/l/n, how may I help you?”
John smiled a little “, I need to speak to Winston.”
“Of course, please hold a moment,” Charon picked up the phone and quietly spoke into it.
Using his thumb John rubbed soothing circled on the back of my hand in an attempt to calm my frayed nerves.
Charon replaced the phone in the receiver and turned to us “, he is in the lower levels and would be most happy to see you.”
We both nodded our thanks and took the service elevator to basement night club slash bar lounge.
Winston as usual was tucked away in a corner with his dark, bespectacled head down-turned reading some document with a glass of bourbon this time keeping him company.
“Hello Winston,” greeted John above the jazzy music.
Winston looked up and gazed at us over his glasses, those crystal blue eyes briefly landing on our joined hands.
“Jonathon, y/n,” returned Winston.
He frowned slightly, his wrinkled forehead creasing even more “, weren’t you two trying to kill each other last time you met?”
We turned to each other and laughed, John’s hand squeezing mines lightly.
Winston held out his hand, the pen still clasped between his thumb and forefinger “, please, sit.”
John pulled out a chair for me and fixed it behind me as I sat. Winston’s sharp eyes took in every action. Without asking he poured us both a glass of bourbon.
He took off his glasses and rested them on the table “, now, what’s the matter?”
I licked my lips before beginning “, I think you should know the story first before we tell you the issue.”
Winston nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line “, alright.”
“Long story short, John and I have been contracted to kill the same people over a period of several months – five in total but one died of natural causes. Just – just this morning we received an order to terminate each other. We were hoping you could find out why.”
Winston nodded mindfully at my request, his eyes far as thoughts wandered.
He exhaled deeply and placed a hand upon his chin “, by chance are your employers’ names Crowley and Stewart?”
We nodded.
Winston clasped his hands together on the table “, there is a rumour that there’s currently a multi-million-dollar bet being carried out by those two on who has the better assassin working for them and people from all over the world are placing bets and wagers on it. I didn’t realise it involved you two. However, I’m not surprised seeing that you two are the best and no one would’ve predicted this turn of events.”
He gestured to our linked hands. John looked at me and smiled softly, he eyes closing to slits.
“What happens if we don’t kill each other?” inquired John. My stomach did a flip at the inquiry.
Winston picked up his glass of bourbon and stared at the amber liquid “, then they’d both hire an individual they believe to be skilled enough to kill you and keep the bet alive and running and still accumulating money.”
“Not if we kill them first,” I cut in.
Winston shrugged nonchalantly “, well there’s always that.”
We paid him our thanks and left knowing what needed to be done. With a peck on the lips, John and I left for our individual rooms.
I gathered the necessary supplies and made my way to my car for my last trip to my boss.
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