Sept 13, 2018 3:18:41 GMT
Post by Evelyn Winters on Sept 13, 2018 3:18:41 GMT
She didn’t like the idea of cooperating with someone. There was Axel, sure, and Cat, but they were equals, and furthermore, trustworthy. It wasn’t like Evelyn ever had much trust in the first place, but after her run in with Glasgowman, any that had existed was absolutely obliterated, unlikely to ever return. But here she was, having faith that some woman she had a fight with in a bar would remain true to her word.
There was some justification to her current objective though, something above an exchange of information; fun. She hadn’t done any proper intimidation in a while and she had to admit, she’d had a blast investigating this man. Mark Alexander, city councilman. Unmarried, no children, something of a drinker, had a thing for brunettes surprisingly enough, seemed more of a blonde kinda guy, but what did she know about that sort of thing? He had an unruly lifestyle for sure, but no major dirt.
What he did have, well, that she was quite excited to unveil.
He lived in a rather extravagant condo on the fourth floor. At least he did in New York. He had several living places all over the world. His family was quite rich, and his current occupation certainly didn’t hurt. Neither did, she imagined, his connections to the Yakuza.
It was easy enough to scale the building. All the condos had porches, it was simply a matter of hoisting herself up from one to the other. Soon enough, she’d made it to his. She easily picked the lock and slipped inside.
He wasn’t home yet. She knew he wouldn’t be home yet. He typically didn’t come home until nine o’clock on a weekday. It had just turned eight. She took a seat in the rather large chair in the corner of the room, opting to leave the lights off. She figured it’d offer more of a surprise. She pulled a knife out of a pocket, nothing too big. It was quite simple in fact, no serrations, nothing specially designed for maximum throwing efficiency or close combat, but it was razor sharp, and she loved the way it caught to light. It made the edges gleam.
As she waited, she ran her fingers down her arm, feeling the indents made by the scars covering her body. She’d left her hoodie at home, it was a bit too warm for comfort and it was still a little crusty with blood. She simply wore a black tank top and her usual black, baggy, pocket-filled pants.
As she felt her scars, she tried her best to remain unemotional. They often made her angry. She had been marred. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him. And she suppose she knew logically that she could never get it back, but she felt, if she could find him, at the very least she could do what was done to her; take everything from him. And perhaps then she would have ownership of herself again. She felt her scars to remind herself exactly what she’s doing this for. Not just for fun. But for herself. For her body. For Axel.
Speaking of Axel, he’d been rather absent today. She wondered why. Part of her missed his hallucinatory company, but part of her was glad. He often lightened her up. He never could be serious, but she felt like being serious. She’d felt something close to zen all night; a strange inner - not peace - but an inner focus, and she didn’t want that focus broken.
Time passed, Evelyn lost in her thoughts, fingers mindlessly running up and down her arm, admiring the reflection of the moon in her blade until she heard keys rattling at the door. She dropped her hand down and placed it on the arm of the chair. The door swung open, letting in a thick ray of light that didn’t quite reach her. He closed the door behind him, tossed his keys on a side table, and switched on the light. He didn’t seem to notice her immediately, or at least register her presence, but when he did, he froze, every muscle in his body stiffening. “Who are you?” He spoke.
She shrugged, “Does it matter?”
He quickly and angrily pulled out his phone, trying to hide his fear. "I'm calling the cops."
“First, let me ask you a question.” She pulled a photograph out of her pocket. “What’s this?”
He glanced up from his phone and shugged angrily. “I don’t know, some little girl sleeping.”
“Look closer.”
He looked again, this time his gaze stayed fixed, his face turned pale.
“What about this?” She held up another photo of the little girl playing with her toys, obviously taken from outside a window.
His hands dropped limply to his sides. “Where-where’d you get…”
“How about this?” She held up another photo of the little girl getting push in a stroller by a young woman on the sidewalk. They looked rather happy.
“Where’d you get those?” He asked, somewhere between furious and horrified.
“You didn’t answer my question.” She held up all three pictures like playing cards. “What are these?”
He took a deep, shaky break. “That’s-that’s my niece, and Janine, my sister-in-law in the one in with the stroller.”
“That’s certainly who the people in the pictures are, yes, but what are they?”
“I...I don’t...I don’t understand, I…” He tried desperately to hold onto his composure, but it was breaking more and more.
“I’ll tell you what they are. They’re incentive.” She stated. “Because if you don’t do what I tell you, I will kill them. Starting with your niece, Piper, then Jenine, then your brother Phil, then your mother, Sharon, and your father, Vernon, although I seriously doubt it’ll get to that, because from what I understand all you have to do is quite simple.”
“What is that.” He said, emotionless, but from the way he stated it she could tell he already knew.
“Do whatever the Yakuza tell you.”
“Are you telling me you’re Yakuza?” He asked with disbelief.
“No, I’m just a...temporary ally.”
“Okay…” he ran his hand through his hair, “okay…”
“So are you going to do it?”
“Yeah, yeah I’ll do it.”
“Okay, but if you don’t, I will kill them.”
“Okay, yeah, okay, I get it.” He ran his fingers through his hair again, using both hands this time. “I never should’ve gotten into this shit in the first place.” He muttered under his breath.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She agreed, getting up and opening the door to the porch, “but you’re stuck in it now.” She lowered her body down the railing. “I’ll be watching you.” She reminded him before dropping down to the railing below her.
She made her way down the building and started walking home, hands in her pockets. That was a lot of fun, and she wished she could have extended it further, but she was quite anxious to get back to her trailer. Cat still could barely move, though he’s been desperately trying to. She wanted to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself.
“You did well.” She heard a familiar voice from behind her.
”Thanks.” She replied, ”Thought I might be a little rusty.”
“Naw, he was scared shitless.” Axel retorted, floating up beside her. “Your whole monotone thing works wonders.” He paused, placing a finger on his chin, “Sometimes.”
”Sometimes.” She smirked.
“I mean, yeah, unless you’re intimidating them, your people skills are absolute shit. We need to work on that.”
”Sure we do.”
“We do! Emotional manipulation is an incredibly useful skill to learn!”
”As you’ve told me many times before.”
“Because it’s true! You know how much shit I’ve gotten out of people just by talking to them? Besides, look at you, who wouldn’t want to open up to you? Who wouldn’t love a face like that?”
She felt the scar running from the edge of her mouth to her cheekbone. Who wouldn’t love a face like that.
There was some justification to her current objective though, something above an exchange of information; fun. She hadn’t done any proper intimidation in a while and she had to admit, she’d had a blast investigating this man. Mark Alexander, city councilman. Unmarried, no children, something of a drinker, had a thing for brunettes surprisingly enough, seemed more of a blonde kinda guy, but what did she know about that sort of thing? He had an unruly lifestyle for sure, but no major dirt.
What he did have, well, that she was quite excited to unveil.
He lived in a rather extravagant condo on the fourth floor. At least he did in New York. He had several living places all over the world. His family was quite rich, and his current occupation certainly didn’t hurt. Neither did, she imagined, his connections to the Yakuza.
It was easy enough to scale the building. All the condos had porches, it was simply a matter of hoisting herself up from one to the other. Soon enough, she’d made it to his. She easily picked the lock and slipped inside.
He wasn’t home yet. She knew he wouldn’t be home yet. He typically didn’t come home until nine o’clock on a weekday. It had just turned eight. She took a seat in the rather large chair in the corner of the room, opting to leave the lights off. She figured it’d offer more of a surprise. She pulled a knife out of a pocket, nothing too big. It was quite simple in fact, no serrations, nothing specially designed for maximum throwing efficiency or close combat, but it was razor sharp, and she loved the way it caught to light. It made the edges gleam.
As she waited, she ran her fingers down her arm, feeling the indents made by the scars covering her body. She’d left her hoodie at home, it was a bit too warm for comfort and it was still a little crusty with blood. She simply wore a black tank top and her usual black, baggy, pocket-filled pants.
As she felt her scars, she tried her best to remain unemotional. They often made her angry. She had been marred. Her body no longer belonged to her, it belonged to him. And she suppose she knew logically that she could never get it back, but she felt, if she could find him, at the very least she could do what was done to her; take everything from him. And perhaps then she would have ownership of herself again. She felt her scars to remind herself exactly what she’s doing this for. Not just for fun. But for herself. For her body. For Axel.
Speaking of Axel, he’d been rather absent today. She wondered why. Part of her missed his hallucinatory company, but part of her was glad. He often lightened her up. He never could be serious, but she felt like being serious. She’d felt something close to zen all night; a strange inner - not peace - but an inner focus, and she didn’t want that focus broken.
Time passed, Evelyn lost in her thoughts, fingers mindlessly running up and down her arm, admiring the reflection of the moon in her blade until she heard keys rattling at the door. She dropped her hand down and placed it on the arm of the chair. The door swung open, letting in a thick ray of light that didn’t quite reach her. He closed the door behind him, tossed his keys on a side table, and switched on the light. He didn’t seem to notice her immediately, or at least register her presence, but when he did, he froze, every muscle in his body stiffening. “Who are you?” He spoke.
She shrugged, “Does it matter?”
He quickly and angrily pulled out his phone, trying to hide his fear. "I'm calling the cops."
“First, let me ask you a question.” She pulled a photograph out of her pocket. “What’s this?”
He glanced up from his phone and shugged angrily. “I don’t know, some little girl sleeping.”
“Look closer.”
He looked again, this time his gaze stayed fixed, his face turned pale.
“What about this?” She held up another photo of the little girl playing with her toys, obviously taken from outside a window.
His hands dropped limply to his sides. “Where-where’d you get…”
“How about this?” She held up another photo of the little girl getting push in a stroller by a young woman on the sidewalk. They looked rather happy.
“Where’d you get those?” He asked, somewhere between furious and horrified.
“You didn’t answer my question.” She held up all three pictures like playing cards. “What are these?”
He took a deep, shaky break. “That’s-that’s my niece, and Janine, my sister-in-law in the one in with the stroller.”
“That’s certainly who the people in the pictures are, yes, but what are they?”
“I...I don’t...I don’t understand, I…” He tried desperately to hold onto his composure, but it was breaking more and more.
“I’ll tell you what they are. They’re incentive.” She stated. “Because if you don’t do what I tell you, I will kill them. Starting with your niece, Piper, then Jenine, then your brother Phil, then your mother, Sharon, and your father, Vernon, although I seriously doubt it’ll get to that, because from what I understand all you have to do is quite simple.”
“What is that.” He said, emotionless, but from the way he stated it she could tell he already knew.
“Do whatever the Yakuza tell you.”
“Are you telling me you’re Yakuza?” He asked with disbelief.
“No, I’m just a...temporary ally.”
“Okay…” he ran his hand through his hair, “okay…”
“So are you going to do it?”
“Yeah, yeah I’ll do it.”
“Okay, but if you don’t, I will kill them.”
“Okay, yeah, okay, I get it.” He ran his fingers through his hair again, using both hands this time. “I never should’ve gotten into this shit in the first place.” He muttered under his breath.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” She agreed, getting up and opening the door to the porch, “but you’re stuck in it now.” She lowered her body down the railing. “I’ll be watching you.” She reminded him before dropping down to the railing below her.
She made her way down the building and started walking home, hands in her pockets. That was a lot of fun, and she wished she could have extended it further, but she was quite anxious to get back to her trailer. Cat still could barely move, though he’s been desperately trying to. She wanted to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself.
“You did well.” She heard a familiar voice from behind her.
”Thanks.” She replied, ”Thought I might be a little rusty.”
“Naw, he was scared shitless.” Axel retorted, floating up beside her. “Your whole monotone thing works wonders.” He paused, placing a finger on his chin, “Sometimes.”
”Sometimes.” She smirked.
“I mean, yeah, unless you’re intimidating them, your people skills are absolute shit. We need to work on that.”
”Sure we do.”
“We do! Emotional manipulation is an incredibly useful skill to learn!”
”As you’ve told me many times before.”
“Because it’s true! You know how much shit I’ve gotten out of people just by talking to them? Besides, look at you, who wouldn’t want to open up to you? Who wouldn’t love a face like that?”
She felt the scar running from the edge of her mouth to her cheekbone. Who wouldn’t love a face like that.
