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His Louis Vuitton loafers hit the concrete ground with soft taps, his lips poked out just a bit as he whistled a small demonic tune to himself.
Stopping in his tracks, he looked up at the J. Edgar Hoover building, the location of the official FBI headquarters-just the destination he was looking for.
He stood there a few seconds, before a white man in a nice suit dropped a briefcase on his side, looking over at him.
"Are you sure this is what you want, sir?" He asked, and the man chuckled, moving his dreads back underneath the snapback hat he wore.
"Ready to have some fun." He shrugged, grabbing the briefcase and making his way towards the building, leaving the other man behind.
He entered the large sized building, a security guard near every single door in the lobby, as well as the many offices occupying the first and second floor.
He could hear the machine beeping steadily as many people walked through the metal detectors, but he passed them, walking up the receptionist desk.
A nice brown skinned lady removed her eyes from her computer, fixing her name tags as she looked up at the man, unable to see him due to the dark tinted shades he wore.
"Hi, how can I help you?" She perked, watching as his tongue moisturized his thick dark ombré pink lips.
"I'm here for an appointment with Idris Cooper." He voiced, a heavy accent laced in his words.
"Okay. Do you have an appointment?" She asked, ready to type his name in on her computer.
"No. He'll want to see me. Tell him it's Dayvon Bennett." He told her, before walking away.
He walked to stand in the middle of the floor, in view of the camera in the corner as the lady began to type on her computer.
He removed the jacket to the suit he wore, placing it on top of the briefcase. He removed his hat, and then his shades, looking up at the camera, revealing his identity.
Pressing enter on her computer, an immediate large red and flashing warning sign took over her screen, the World's Most Wanted Fugitives list loading, number #2's identity the same as the man who was previously standing in front of her.
She hit the large red button on her desk, and a deafening blaring alarm sound began to sound off in the building, at the same time Dayvon crouched to be on his knees, placing his hands behind his head.
Ten officers immediately surrounded him, guns pointed at him from every direction, and every other officer's attention in the lobby was now focused on him, guns drawn as well.
«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»
Emerging from the elevator, Idris was surrounded by security, a few agents at the door, waiting to greet him.
"Agent Vincent Jones, head officer on the Bennett case. A pleasure to meet you, sir." Vincent introduced himself, giving the head director of the FBI a firm handshake.
"Cooper, the pleasure is mine. Is it really him?" He took a cup of coffee that was held out to him by an agent, taking a sip from it.
"Yes sir. The finger prints match, tattoos, teeth, it's all him. He even gave us classified details on the Custach mission." Vincent updated him, the two of them entering the large building, many tech agents behind computers.
"Custach? What happened on that?" His eyebrows furrowed, and Vincent's did as well, looking over at him.
"We uh-we tried to kill him, sir?" He gestured with his hands, and a small 'hm' escaped Cooper's lips, shrugging, not quite recalling the case.
"Wow. It really is him, in the flesh. What does he want?" Cooper released a sigh, his eyes on Von through a computer screen, seeing him in large metal cuffs around his arms, wrists, ankles, as well as his torso.
"Nothing. He hasn't said a word. Or moved a muscle, even during the flight. He's just-there." Vincent shrugged, confused.
Von watched the officers that surrounded the large rectangular container he was being held in guard up, now looking as if they enjoyed their jobs.
"From the way people are moving, I'm guessing someone of the highest authority has arrived? Idris, wassup nigga?" He smirked in the camera, and Cooper gestured for an agent to turn on the mic.
"Watch your mouth, Dayvon." He warned, and Von smiled, shrugging.
"I know you have a lot of questions. So let's start with the first, why am I here?" Dayvon tilted his head, rhetorically speaking.
"Do you remember the explosion of the capitol in 2019, and the bombing on train number two seven eight a few months after?" He asked, looking in the camera.
A frown etched across the face of Cooper, because how could he forget? Those were the biggest terrorist attacks since 9/11.
"You probably think ain't no connection between em' huh? But I can tell you one man who was there for both attacks. Demario White." He smirked, his head tilting again.
"Demario White, 36, African American, heavy ties in Russia and India, wanted in multiple countries-died May 7th, 2018." An agent read his file aloud, and both Vincent and Cooper frowned.
"White has been dead for going on four years, Bennett. Are you here to waste my damn time?" Cooper said in the mic, looking at him through the camera.
"Well a dead man is getting off of flight Cessna two four nine to Beijing, China, right now." He shrugged, and agents immediately began searching the flight, and everyone's attention went to the large screen.
They watched the AI software reveal the identity of the dead man indeed, and they all frowned in confusion.
"Entered Beijing under the alias Suvnar Milton. Identified in both attacks, as well as the one in Yatuks, Russia, and a few others. A bank account is connected to the name, over twelve billion US dollars, sir. Number 42 on the hot 100 fugitive list." Another agent informed, and Vincent stared in disbelief.
"You have my attention." Cooper spoke, and a devious grin spread across Dayvon's lips.
"Good. I have more people you'd be interested in. Like Horace Walls, Sheyaa Joseph, and Jason Brown. Who are all currently having a meeting at the Chinese Embassy in Armenia, the basement floor, door code 22789." He told him, shrugging carelessly.
"He's correct, sir. Number 27, 92, and 66 on the hot 100." An agent pointed to the screen, pulling up security footage of the three fugitives in a room, all with slight disguises-such as hair changes, taller shoes, etc.
"I'm right, ain't I folks? I'm already knowing, youn gotta tell me. Now, I have more, obviously. But under one condition. I speak only to Saniyah Rose. Nobody else. Just her." Dayvon spoke, a demonic smile flashing, his diamond grills glistening in the light.
"Who the hell is Saniyah Rose?"
based off of one of my favorite shows 😁 anyways, welcome back bootybutts. how y'all doing?
