arachnidsgarotte-blog

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

The coffee here isn't the best, but it's certainly better than the shit you got in Barcelona. That crap was literal rocket fuel in a cup, and if you were a marksman that would certainly put a damper on your aim, what with the jitters that shit gave you after only five sips. Bombs would never let you down like having to aim a gun so you stick with your babies.

A man walks by and you just know it's him. Dave. Blond hair, medium build, sunglasses dark enough that you can't see his eyes. He smiles at you, the fool, and you're startled but you grin back almost hesitantly as he turns away from you and heads to the cafe. Sneering at his back, you reach down into your purse and pull out the detonator, a device small enough to hide up the sleeve of your blazer until the time comes to make a big boom.

Now it's a waiting game for him to-- Why isn't he going inside? This was not accounted for in your plans, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, he's going to ruin everything! He turns back around and you forget to look away, shit, now he's onto you. This is just not your day.

You watch him wave over to a girl with a strange looking walking cane and shout something, and for a moment the girl looks almost... familiar. It's hard to tell with the glare of the sun off the cars and the general location of everyone around but she definitely reminds you of an old friend. But that has nothing to do with this hit and you know it. Dave's close enough to the cafe to at least do some major damage with any luck, but more likely than not you're going to have to get in and get dirty with that knife tucked up your sleeve. You toss thirty bucks on the table and leave out the small gate in the fence surrounding the patio area and walk calmly across the street to the cafe, slowly enough to show no hurry.

Normally you wouldn't put yourself in harm's way like this, but if a witness sees you walking toward the crime you're less likely to be deemed a suspect. You're halfway across the street when your thumb pressed the button and it isn't until after you've released that you realize something.

That girl is Teresa.

But you can't let that worry you; you have a job to finish.

You're far enough back to only be knocked a bit off-balance by the blast, but close enough to see the damage well. There's smoke and fire and people scrambling, and now's your chance. You can use the smoke and commotion as a cover to the knifework you're about to perform on that blond cutie you're out to get. And like hell are you going to let him get away.

Victoria Siekert always gets her kill.

You prepare yourself as well, trying to dress yourself up a little bit more fashionably than your previous dates.  After wrangling with your roommate, asking her to appraise a few different styles, you decide on…pretty much exactly what you always wear, since you’re on the verge of running late already after having wavered and prevaricated for a half hour already.  Slipping into some black jeans, a teal-and-red t-shirt, and sneakers, your one concession to dressing up is a stylish black jacket that Kendra gave you as a gift a few years ago.  Fortunately (or unfortunately), you haven’t grown an inch in years, so it still fits perfectly.  As you prepare to take off, you shoot off a few final texts to Dave to confirm everything, grabbing your more utilitarian folding cane—that, alone, indicates your trust in Dave, that you don’t bring the cane that doubles as a weapon in a pinch.

[TEXT] I'm on way out now, Dave!!! Try not to kill too many bears on your way there. I'll have to swoon with girlish abandon if you do, and then where will our date have gone? >:P 

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

You wake up with about an hour and a half to spare before you need to get to the cafe again and spend the time picking out something nice to wear. A fiery red wig (cut short in a neat bob) because you love to mix it up every once in a while, slacks, and a blazer with a white undershirt. It occurs to you that you should cover your eye color just to be safe, so you dig out your green contacts and put one in, swapping your glass eye out for its green counterpart in the process. A pair of smart pumps and some glasses finish it off and once you've donned it all, you look like an average businesswoman on a lunch break.

Perfect.

There's a restaurant across the street from the cafe that also has a patio seating area, and that's where you plan to be when shit goes down. You need to be close enough to make sure the mark is eliminated, but far enough to ensure you aren't caught in the aftermath yourself. Plus, this way, if the bombs don't do the job you can use the cover of the smoke to zip in and slit his throat with the knife tucked inside the right sleeve of your blazer. You detest when things reach that point--there's just something about bloodying yourself up that bothers you--but this certainly wouldn't be the first time you've had to resort to that.

Ah, Mumbai. Good times, good times.

This time around, you choose the relatively fancy car, one worthy of a wealthy businesswoman. You've already taken the liberty of swapping out the plates with a new set of fakes just in case, and you speed down the road to the downtown marketplace, parking your car in front of a meter approximately a quarter of a block from the restaurant. Once you've put change in the meter you enter the restaurant and request a table outside; the maître d is more than happy to oblige for a pretty young woman such as yourself.

After you've been seated you take a look over the menu, keeping an eye on the cafe from over the top of your menu. Lying in wait, one might say, sitting there with the trigger in your purse.

It's almost time.

You grin, the fact that he’d replied almost immediately pushing the situation with Victoria out of your mind without stripping away the small boost in happiness hearing from her again at all had given you.  That allowed you to focus on another message: Dave’s.  After giving it a listen, you text back promptly.

[TEXT] I'm ok. Got out of class early today. Want to get a coffee at the place downtown? >:O

“The place downtown”, as it turns out, was one of your favorite haunts whenever you wanted to get some studying done, and it had some of the best coffee in town, in your opinion.  You’d made sure to point it out to Dave while you walked by on your last date.  Hopefully he’d be interested. 

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

She hangs up on you, the bitch, and it's no skin off your nose that she didn't want a conversation after all. Besides, you've got much more important matters at hand, like getting down to the cafe to plant some explosives for this afternoon. Maybe after that's over you can get a few hours of sleep before everything goes down later but now.

Now is the time to get there and get everything set up for a successful hit.

You grab the keys to one of your less flashy cars and head out to the little cafe in town, picking the back lock and sneaking past the security system. Breaking and entering are two more things you've perfected over the years, though it's obvious they're not your strong point, considering the fact that it took you far too long to pick the lock.

The problem with making a hit in the open like this is that there are too many probabilities of shit going downhill, and fast. There are too many possibilities of where to sit so you lace every inch of the seating area inside with small amounts of C4 and quickly retreat back out of the building, lining the outside area with explosives as well. It's a hasty job and you know it, but you didn't have much time to prepare for this afternoon. Quickly, you set up some timers and some manual ignition points, more than ready for your target to show up later today.

For now it's back to the house for a couple hours of sleep and getting ready for the Big Moment.

The moment you hear the first ring, you regret picking up the phone at all.  She already let it go to voicemail the first time, and there isn’t anything you or she would even be able to say to each other.  Still, there’s a part of you large enough to have control over your phone that seeks some sort of closure, that still wants something that isn’t this abrasive, sandpapery harshness where a close friendship once resided.

The second ring happens.  You’re ready to hang up again; it was a stupid idea, you tell yourself, and you were expecting too much.  She answers, though.  It’s just as harsh and as vitriolic as you expected, but she answers.  She’s right, though; she has nothing to say to you and you have nothing to say in return, so you hang up.  The very fact that she answered, though, is enough to be a small reassurance, and it raises your mood.

You’d gone on a cute and somewhat successful date with Dave Strider about a week before, and the fact that you two were still in healthy contact was a good sign.  It wasn’t necessarily anything serious, but it was a nice relief from the emotionally heavy relationships you’d had thus far.

Having gotten the lingering Victoria situation off your chest, you shoot off a text to Dave.

[TEXT] Cooooooolkid. >;] >;] >;] 

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

You're busy packing a duffel bag with an unprecedented amount of C4 and other incendiary devices when your phone rings. Curious to see if your client is changing or editing the plans for tomorrow, you reach over and pick it up. The screen reads 'Teresa Pyrope,' and, well.

You ignore it.

It continues ringing a few more times before it goes silent, and you exhale deeply and go back to packing. Some smaller scale bombs, handheld triggers, timers, and a couple knives just in case you have to get up close and personal with your target, some guy named Dave. Your client gave you a basic description: blond hair, sunglasses, medium build. Not much to go on, but you also have a tentative schedule of where he'll be, meaning you can hit him at the most opportune moment.

Just as you finish loading your bag your phone rings again and you snarl at it, snatching it from the floor beside you and flipping it open with a huff. "I don't have anything to say to you, Pyrope," you grit out, tossing a wig into your bag for a safe and clean getaway. "The hell d'you even want from me?"

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

I'm gonna go soak in the tub.

Kenz before you go psychosnark on me I haven't forgotten about you.

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

As well it should! Not just anyone can handle bearing witness to my sheer amazingness, after all. Only the lucky few like yourself.

A single tear comes to my eyes. ::::’) This ranks among the gr8est evenings of my life. 

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

The greatest person you will ever have the pleasure of meeting, of course! But that's just my official title, my name is Victoria. Common nicknames are Vic, Tori, Toria, and Ria, but call me Vicky and so help me God I will gut you.

::::)

Nice to meet you Jade! I'm sure we'll be great friends.

aww!!! thanks! im jade harley

who are you??

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

Aradia, eh? Let me guess... you're some alternate form of Ariana motherfucking Medici here to make the remainder of my life a living hell or something, right? Great. Beautiful.

Look, I did Bad Things as a teenager and I know it.

It's over and done with, let's move on now. I've got much bigger fish to fry in this crazy messed up world and I'm on a tight schedule to do so. Picky clients and all that, and god only knows the repercussions if I don't deliver on time.

Not that my job concerns you; carry on, Aradia.

wow i was not expecting that name let me just get that out of the way victoria siekert it has a definite vriska tone to it

hi! im aradia and its a little strange you dont know who i am but then theres all sorts of alternates who dont know who i am so i can let it slide this time 

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

horridbeast started following you

apolausticarisen started following you

Did someone promise you free shit because there ain't nothing here for you if you're lookin' for that. I do, however, have coooooooopious quantities of sarcasm and bitchiness.

I have the bitch market cornered.

But hi to the both of you I guess. Victoria Siekert, at your service so long as you can afford me.

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

deadspiderwalking started following you

You are my eighth follower! How serendipitous.

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

UGH! LOOK, I'M GETTING TO IT LIKE I SAID I WOULD!!!!!!!!

I'm sorry I haven't kept up contact but things have been different lately and it's hard to find time to call old friends between begging for clients and going on tiny little jobs that ain't even worth my time.

If it really means that much to you I'll try to call or text more often or something, god.

Far too busy to allot time for a close friend it would seem or at the least I had considered us close enough but if you saw differently then perhaps I was the fool to believe otherwise. You had not even informed me that you had been employed at all much less what type of job you have accepted. Is that not the sort of information you do not withhold from friends or am I mistaken there as well?

I have been relatively well thank you for asking (after all this time). My studies in medicine have been advancing at an average if not rather monotonous rate as of late. Though one does see a humorous parallel sewing plaid and then suturing a wound (a simulated one mind you).

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

I was getting to it!!!!!!!!

You forego responding to our conversation.

You dodge answering my question with regards to your job and continue to be insufferably vague about it.

And now you insist on mending a dress on your own while I am clearly present.

Is it about time I renounce our friendship or have you already taken the liberty of doing so since the last time you bothered speaking to me?

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

I love a nice day on the job.

My client was very specific with his demands and I must say, his product came out rather nicely. Of course the lot of you don't know nothing about anything but that's fine, all you have to know is that I'm damn good at my job.

Anyway I should go mend this dress, it has a tear in it.

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

What can I say, I'm a busy woman! I'm going into work for the first time in a long while though so I'm afraid I don't have much time to chat right now. I'll be on after I clock out.

Anyway, what's up?

duplicitdaredevil started following you

 arachnidsgarotte started following you

It is a pleasure to see you again Teresa. Have you been faring well after all these years?

And the same to you Victoria even if you had not seen fit to write or call at all since we have last spoken. Is it really so much to ask for an update or a simple ‘hi’? 

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

My phone has a message. Looks like I'm going into work today. ::::)

Time to shower.

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

Trying to get under my skin isn’t going to work.

[arachnidsgarotte-blog]

And I said no, no. Noooooooo, no no no. I said no, no.

You're not the one for me.

No, no. Noooooooo, no no no. I said no, no.

You're not the one for me.

woke up

wished that i was dead

with an aching in my head

i lay motionless in bed

thought of you

and where youd gone

let the world spin madly on