The car came to a halt a little after an hour from when it had started driving. Andy and Lily were watching a movie. They were back in the city, albeit just the outskirts, and it seemed like this was the place where the two conmen were going to be spending the night. Or, at least, where they were scheduled to report back to Altman, if they were still alive.
Jack released his hold from the bottom of the car, dripping back down to the ground. It felt devastatingly cold after the intense heat of the engine, but he ignored that too. Eight limbs emerged from the mass, soon accompanied by many pairs of eyes. He moved forward carefully, watching through many dark eyes.
They'd pulled into the parking lot of a motel, one that was neither cheap nor incredibly lavish. They pulled bags out of the car, even now, when no one was watching, looking just like two ordinary people out on vacation. The mark of professionals. The spider latched onto the underside of Ella's rolling suitcase, allowing her the honor of carrying her death right into her hotel room.
They paid with a credit card for a reserved room, one night. The transaction was over in moments, and the couple, and their unknown guest, moved off down the hallway, found their room, opened the door, and promptly locked it behind them once all baggage and people were inside.
The moment Ella and Rob closed the door, the air of a normal couple dropped away. They moved away from each other, Ella sitting near the window on the hard, wooden desk chair, Rob taking a seat on the bed furthest away from her. Jack moved towards the bathroom.
He could feel the start of a conversation blooming between them, and the fact that it was also being purposefully repressed. Apparently they had been advised, or perhaps instructed would be a better word, not to speak of it until they were reporting. Yet they wanted to. Because it had been so odd. It was easy to tell at a glance that Andy's simple innocence hadn't been just an act. There were still remains of the military in him, but he was no cold-blooded killer. At the same time, he hadn't feared them, or their not-so-subtle threats to his girlfriend. The entire situation made no sense, and the hope that it might become clarified as they spoke always lingered. They kept their silence.
It didn't matter to Jack.
He rebuilt his body in that dark bathroom. It was still intimately familiar to him. How could it not be, when he had built and rebuilt it so many times at this point. Every blood vessel, every follicle, every nerve ending, right where it belonged. Even if they knew it consciously, people never really recognized what their body was. They knew about muscles, about skin and cells and organs, but it never really mattered. Their body was simply theirs. But that's all it was to Jack now. Blood and skin and muscle and bone. Just like everything else. His consciousness had nothing to do with his body. This was just a familiar form.
He changed it, almost as though to spite himself. The hair darkened and lengthened, becoming slightly wavy. The eye color rapidly changed from green to a greyish blue, like the sky on a rainy day. Some of the height slipped away, and a bit of paunch appeared in the belly and arms. It was a man, just like any other man. Not handsome, but not ugly, with a slightly bulbous nose that was the only thing that might be memorable about his form. Well, except for the fact that it was completely naked. At least for now.
Jack had never tried organic, non-living materials, but he knew spider silk. The clothes that finally formed around him were light and almost gossamer, in plain shades of grey that clung close to his form. Anyone who looked too close would notice something rather off about it, that they didn't seem quite like any clothes that people had ever worn before. It didn't matter. He'd get more precise with the details later, when it really mattered. For now, though, Rob and Ella had much bigger concerns to worry about.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, he could feel them stiffen. Rob's hand went for the gun in his waistband. Ella was, at least, a little more subtle. "Excuse me," she said, sharp and scathing. "What are you doing in here? This is our room."
"Oh, yes," Jack agreed. "I know." In an instant, Ella was moving for a weapon of her own, while Rob trained the gun on him. Jack didn't flinch.
"Are you really going to fire a gun in here, at an unarmed man? Honestly, I thought Altman picked experienced people." Rob's arm wavered slightly, as he considered the repercussions of shooting someone in his hotel room. It stabilized a moment later. "Yeah, I suppose you are right," Jack said, a small smile flickering across his face. "Better in jail than dead."
In an instant Ella was moving. One knife in her hand was hurled across the room at nearly blinding speed, as she simultaneously moved in the direction he would have to dodge in order to avoid the throw. For a moment Jack considered catching the knife, but in the end he didn't bother. It hit him soundly in the shoulder, but he didn't flinch. Not even a trace of emotion crossed his face. His other hand flashed out, catching Ella by the throat and lifting her up off the ground to hang suspended. She gagged, and started flailing for a moment, before Jack pinched a nerve in her throat and she fell to the floor, unconscious.
He turned towards Rob, pulling the knife out of his shoulder. The man was frozen. He was not a fighter, but a conman, and while he might be able to get out of a normal situation, every nerve in his body was telling him this was no normal situation. "I suppose you can fire the gun if it would make you feel better," Jack said. "But I'd really prefer it if you didn't."
Rob's hand was shaking so bad he could barely aim the gun, but Jack watched as the muscles in his shoulder tensed, and his finger began to curl. Jack moved forward, pushing his hand over the barrel. Where there should have been a sharp crack, there was nothing but a muffled thump. Jack smiled, almost sympathetically. "It's nothing personal. Really. But I can't have you getting back to Altman to make a report. It would go against my plan.
Rob didn't seem to hear him. He was staring at Jack's hand, where a mangled bullet was resting in his unmarked palm. Jack knocked him out, too.
There was nothing of any particular interest in their heads. No information on the mission, or who might be behind it. Not that Jack had really expected it. Altman had paid them well for this job. It was the only way to get them to take it, when so many people had died. Now it would cost even more. But at least Levi would be getting his money back from this pair. They, like the others before them, would vanish off the face of the earth. Tomorrow the hotel staff would come to check the room after check out, and they would find two unopened suitcases, and beds that had not been slept in. The police would be called. Eventually the news would make its way back to Altman. He'd have to come up with a new strategy.