Miksa Silas ♦ Bagheera (miksa) wrote in bellumlogs, @ 2010-06-04 11:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | bagheera |
Who: Miksa
What: Narrative (voice finding!)
Where: Juke Joint, exotic pet store
When: After moving in
Warnings: None
The exotic pet store was small and inconsequential. It was filled with all the sorts of things people bought on a whim and then realized they had no idea how to care for - and no desire to learn.
Miksa had walked the tight, cramped aisles two times in as many days, and she'd contacted the appropriate rescue organizations after each visit. But there was one creature inside that was for her.
The black footed ferret in its glass enclosure was harmless looking. Small as it was, it looked like a domestic ferret kit, but Miksa knew better. One of the most endangered mammals in existence, the tiny creature that was curled up, asleep in a garishly neon plastic ball. It was an insult.
She waved to the store owner, as she had the day before, and she disappeared out into the New York sun to plan. She didn't go home, and she didn't go to the park (where wolves that thought they were dogs lived). She went to the Juke Joint, and she ordered a martini, and she mapped her ways in and out on a napkin littered with peanut shells.
The store was small, but it had security. She wouldn't have much time. Opening the door would be simple enough, and the owner only took the expensive snakes home at night. She smiled a feral, catlike smile at the bartender - a woman in her twenties that looked like she would taste of bubble gum and sticky jam and dirt underneath that snug white tee - and she shoved the napkin away.
A glance outside told her it was not yet dark enough to do anything about anything, so she leaned across the bar and she tucked a very generous tip into the waistband of her prey's jeans. She could practically feel the girl's return purr, and Miksa's return chuckle was decidedly masculine in its certainty. She had pretty lips, her prey. She decided to test them out.
By the time she left the bar, it was dark enough that she would go unnoticed as she slipped into an alley and changed out of her harmless skirt and tank top. She didn't worry about slipping off every last bit of clothing where someone could see (the alley locals wouldn't talk), and by the time she stepped back onto the sidewalk it was in black jeans, her breasts bound and flattened, covered by a button down man's shirt. Her hair was hidden under a baseball cap (which also obscured her face). She knew how to swagger like a man, did Miksa, and she did just that.
The door to the pet shop opened as soon as she touched it with gloved fingers, and the security camera's red light swept over her. She kept her head down, and she counted off the 15 seconds for the alarm in her head as she worked. The glass enclosure the ferret was in wasn't locked, and he was small enough that she didn't think twice before scooping him up and putting him in the unmarked bag that now concealed her clothing. By the time her feet had found the sidewalk again, the alarm had already sounded. By the time she ducked into the nearby alley, she could hear the sirens.
By the time she walked into Bellum, she was a harmless, soft woman, carrying a designer purse and wearing expensive flats under her skirt. The kind of woman that would never need to steal anything.
And no one in the building knew her well enough to notice if she was gone for a day, working on a release.