As part of her job, Ananke frequently takes long drives out of the city. She's loaded into the back of a truck with a few of her compatriots, carted off into the wasteland, and sent out to kill monsters with a much higher likelihood of killing her instead.

She's not nearly as tense during those trips as she is right now.

There is no armor and no guns. She's practically naked and barely armed. Even the passing of the buildings, the crawling of the city skyline, serves to agitate her further. It's like a countdown to her arrival to the club where, to be honest, she has no idea what's going to happen.

At least when she's fighting Infected, she knows that she's fighting Infected. There are formations to follow, call signs to answer, and death tolls to count. Tonight? She hasn't got the slightest clue. She's been to the Inner Citadel before- hell, she technically lives there- but North is driving them deeper into the city, where the lights are brighter and the streets much less familiar.

Speaking of North, the Major seems to be enjoying himself way too much for an official mission. Is he always this lax on the job?

"Of course sir," she drawls, still looking out the window. She's refused to look his way the entire trip. "Honored to be chosen to spend what would have been a free evening working a case that I have no specialization in." The specialist crosses her leg, unsettled. The knife was a mistake. It better come in handy at some point tonight... "What exactly is our objective here? A confession? A written ledger?" He's been frustratingly mum about the details.

Remember your basics. Sure, that'll help. "Basic training didn't exactly cover how to infiltrate nightclubs, sir," Ananke says pointedly. "It was drills and marching and uniform maintenance." She doubts any kind of training could possibly prepare her for being trapped in a car with North either. The specialist knows that if she turned her head, the Major would be sporting his signature smug smirk.

The clientele involved doesn't bode well either. "So they're filthy rich," she feels the need to clarify. Just the idea of it makes her tense up visibly. "Rich enough to look twice at me?"

You can put Ananke in whatever clothes you want, but that doesn't change the fact that she's a military orphan, born and raised in captivity for the sole purpose of being a soldier. The idea of having money, more money than you need or know what to do with, is an entirely alien concept to her, and it shows. She's sorely suited for camouflaged, and North should know that. Just one look at her body, worn and scarred and barely covered in this flimsy excuse for a dress would tip any socialite off that she simply doesn't belong.

Whatever basic training North went through when he was her rank, probably a couple decades ago, Ananke has doubts that his experience had been the exact same as hers. And even if it were, the Major is grossly exaggerating the usefulness of basic training. "I suppose not," Ananke admits, deadpan. "It looks like I've betrayed your faith in me. What a tragedy." Perhaps her ensuing uselessness will teach him better than to pluck his nest elimination soldiers out of their normal jobs, and make them put up with ridiculous assignments like this.

It's not that Ananke worries much about her appearance. In a life full of constant fighting and drills, trying to survive against the most evolved killers on earth, she's hardly worried about about scars and nicks every so often. But walking into unknown territory where she's certain appearances are everything- that's an entirely different story. If she didn't know any better, Ananke would way North were setting her up for failure.

But then he says "You'll be fine," and it honestly takes Ananke aback. Where's the taunts? The rude implications? He's being sincere and she doesn't like it. Ugh. Well at least this time around she's hoping that he'll actually be right. "Of course sir," Ananke says, not sarcastic but certainly not sincere. The fact that for once he seems to not be up to something just makes her think the opposite...

As much as Ananke prays for the moment to come, the club comes into view, the car begins to slow, and the Specialist realizes that the time of reckoning has come upon her. She contemplates lingering in the car for just a little longer, but even that right is denied to her, as North decides to do the 'chivalrous' thing and open the car door for her, exposing her to the outside world.

"Allow me." Hah. He knows that he's really doing.

The woman huffs, and then practically balances herself on the ridiculous shoes she's been expected to wear. Honestly, they would have qualified as weapons with how thin the heels were, but taking off your shoes just to stab someone with them just wasn't feasible to do. Although she'd be willing to make an exception for some people...

As much as the thought of it makes her want to vomit. It would be less suspicious for them to act as if they at least tolerated each other. Both ways. So she threads an arm through his like she isn't insanely repulsed by the idea, but that doesn't make her susceptible to his next idea.

"Nonsense," Ananke says at North's suggestion. "You and I both know you're the more convincing of the two of us by far."

After all, she's here right now, isn't she?

The confusion comes slowly, too late for Ananke to avoid what's coming next. "What are you-" The Specialist isn't given any time to react before her arm is relinquished and her back is pushed. The Major's last words linger in her mind as she realizes what he's done.

The prick.

As much as Ananke would like to immediately withdraw from the mission, slap the bouncer across the face, and then disappear off the face of the Earth, she knows that doing so is easier said than done. She has a job to do. She has a superior officer whose bad side she shouldn't get on, as much as she loathes the idea of doing what he says. Most of all, she has no idea where in the city they are and how she'd get home even if she were to leave.

Still, that doesn't mean the Specialist is about to roll over like some kind of dog. She'd still rather escape this situation with at least some of her dignity. When she approached the man guarding the club, her gait is still that of a soldier's, heels or no. North wants her to get them in? Fine.

Suddenly, without warning, she snatches at the bouncer's tie, jerks him inwards so he can only look at her in the eye. She considers her options. Violence would be an effective motivator at this distance. But would it be the most effective?

"...we'll pay you five hundred credits to let us in first," Ananke eventually decides to say. "And by we, I mean him." Her head jerks towards the Major's direction. After all, that's the kind of thing a leader does, isn't it?

The plan goes off without a hitch. And by plan, she means bribe, because thankfully the bouncer turned out to be the type of man to catch on quick, take the money given to him, and then promptly shut up. Which would have been the best case scenario for him, because Ananke's contingency plan would have been considerably less profitable for him. And more violent.

That's obstacle one out of the way. Now to conquer two through God knows how many.

Including, possibly, her own superior officer. From the way he's taken to shoving her in every general direction, he doesn't seem too pleased. She bristles under the weight of his threats. He's toeing the very line of legality here and he knows it. If they get caught, their means might have to change, but that won't necessarily prevent them from completely their mission objective, will it? "You said, and I quote, 'I think you should get us in.' It wasn't exactly an order," the Specialist points out. "Everything else was arguably conjecture."

Besides, she's not the only one who might be giving the two of them away. "And you should speak for yourself. If you keep throwing your 'date' around," she hisses, air quotes palpable, "people will catch on."