Who: Vaughn, narrative. What: Picking up her Duchess presents, finding out what the music box means, traveling. Where: 104. When: Last night; Let's say a few days after her thing with Daisy & Vlad's apartment break-in. Notes: Vaughn stole Boyd's safety deposit key some many months ago, she now has the location of the bank, and pursues it.
She'd been pondering the music box since bringing it back to 104. It sat on the floor, in the corner. Vaughn's bedroom, which had once been Shiloh's, was sickly barren. But the witch was impervious to it's lack of decal. She almost preferred it; the stark walls felt like a cage of withered bones. If she'd ever been home, it was here. Inside this nothingness, this hideous cracking paint. For once, the outside matched her insides; Vaughn felt no need to decorate. Aside from a knapsack and a shoebox, she hadn't really brought anything of her own into 104 at all. Personal effects, useless atrocities. The witch wasn't exactly a woman of extravagance; although, she sometimes supposed that she could be. If Vaughn had a mind to, anyway. How easy would it be to rob a bank? Assuming Vaughn got away, she could change her face on the turn of a dime. Mug old ladies, leave them beaten in the street. Anything. Vaughn could do anything.
But the power itself didn't stir her. She wasn't a woman to act out because she could. She had lessons to teach, punishments to dole, vendettas to grind into dust. So busy, there just wasn't enough time for the little joys in life!
With her moral compass as destroyed as it was, Vaughn still held a strong sense of direction. She acted on people because they deserved it. Because they wronged her. Because they were her enemies. She didn't lash out on just anyone. Abuse her power? That's exactly how Jesus got strung up, not to mention, Hitler.
But back to the box. Vaughn had turned it over in her hands a few times. On the front, a Venetian mask. The initials JS engraved into one corner. She knew that Ainslie's last name was Singer, so the S was easy to place, even if the J meant nothing. On the bottom, the name of a bank and a three digit number. The number felt familiar to her, although Vaughn could not say why. She thought on it for days, and it plagued her, this 315.
On the third day, it came to her in the midst of a daydream. No definitive vision, but simply the want to withdraw that slim key from the shoebox inside Shiloh's closet. The very same key she'd stolen from Ainslie's room all that time ago. And, sure enough, the same 315 was engraved on the front of the key. From the very beginning, she'd recognized the key as one that belonged to a safety deposit box. Familiar because her second husband had owned several.
This led to a brief bout of research. The bank on the music box was nothing local, nothing even in the country. It would take some travel to determine what was inside the safety deposit box, and Vaughn dwelled with wonder over whether or not it was worth it. She pondered, because it was a major step. It was leaving Bellum, and it was leaving Daniel. Vaughn didn't think that was what she wanted, and she almost dismissed the trip completely.
But then, Boyd followed through. Like she always did. Boyd made that forum post, and simultaneously made up Vaughn's mind for her.
Vaughn purchased her plane ticket the next day, but there was some business to attend to before she left. She went grocery shopping for Aaron, just like any good mother would. A couple boxes of macaroni and cheese and fruity pebbles left on the counter top beside a fifty dollar bill, a Pizza Hut menu, and a note.
Aaron, I had a death in the family. I'll be home in two days. Love, V
After that, it was only her curiosity and not her timeline that took Vaughn down to the catacombs to collect her presents. And what jewels they were! Such a beautiful series of items that Vaughn stowed in her closet, right next to the gun.
Vaughn left this morning for her flight. When she landed, she was Ainslie Singer; as redheaded and darling as the original, in case the bank should recognize.. which they didn't. All they asked for, aside from the key, was a signature. Vaughn's rendition was sloppy, but they accepted it cluelessly. After all was said and done, Vaughn transferred the money into a series of multi-thousand dollar travelers checks, 1.5 billion dollars worth. They turned the stack over to her with wide, confident smiles.
The checks flipped like a wonderful rainbow through her fingers. Hello, beautiful.