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[personal profile] vengefulamethystrose
So I and the gang have been planning for a little while. Y'know, we're only just starting out. I mean, a few people have heard of us but overall we're kind of nobodies. And that might be fine for some of the mooks and idiots who follow me, but I want to be known. I want the people I rob to know who robbed 'em, and why. So we chose an unusual target, to help us make our entrance.

Bigelow Advertising was the right kind of place. Big, but not too big. They didn't really have their own security, just a couple of idiots who thought they were hot shit. And they were a growing company, so they already had lots of people's attention. And I'd seen their social media shit. It was good, and we needed good.

After all, a woman's best weapon is fear.

I stormed into the first floor of the office building, the group in tow. I sauntered up to the desk and asked which floor the advertising agency was on. I tell two of my guys to take the stairs so that we're covered there. I have two of my women go up first to make sure we don't have any unexpected surprises. I post my last woman, Felicia, at the front door. Since she's the only one who isn't a total idiot, I'm trusting her to handle it when the cops show up. Then, after a few minutes, I get in an elevator and ride it up to the sixth floor. I open the door, pull out my gun and point it at the handful of people in the office. "Nobody move." I said calmly.
Date: 2016-01-24 06:48 am (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
Open office spaces tend to be a terrible idea. But they were an easy way to look cheerful and friendly, so.

At least it looked good in the office pictures. And lets you keep track of who was coming in and out. I purse my lips at the women who come up--they don't look young enough to be anyone's kids, but they look like they were waiting for someone.

I shrug it off and go back to editing the reports into something that was actually legible (in-house) and something that was straightforward and bold (livejournal).

Cynthia draws in a sudden breath. I snap up to look at the door, she has family issues that can be surprisingly intense--

"Nobody move." I'm already frozen. Someone says, "Can I help you?" in a strangely tinny voice. When Cynthia's eyes widen in my direction, I realize it was me.
Date: 2016-01-24 07:02 am (UTC)

casey_papillon: picture of a blue butterfly on a transparent background (Default)
From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
"Uh--um." I cough. "Speaking?"
Date: 2016-01-24 07:21 am (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
What. What. What.

Invasion of personal space is usually a scare tactic, paired with lowered voice. It feels a little staged, though that could be shock--I'd always put the bad actors on when I needed the scene to feel out of focus. Glass eye? Lazy eye? Something. Exceptionally alternative presentation. Definitely staged. Not fake, necessarily, but staged all the same. The girls in the hall were hers.

"Y--y-yes ma'am. Um." I turn glance at my computer as I open a new livejournal post. That should do. Right? I can always cross-post later.

I skip the title for a moment, shakily write out, "Armed break-in at Bigelow offices," then swallow, looking down. "Uh." I title it, "Eva Blue Is Pointing a Gun at Me", then hit post.

Shit. Shitshitshit. Should've asked. "Uh." I'm shaking badly enough that my hand is clicking lightly on the keyboard. I could say I have a family?--but she wants attention, mother of two is a good dramatic article. I shut my mouth.
Date: 2016-01-24 07:43 am (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
What am I wearing today. Pearls. Damn. I take them off and set them on my desk, waiting for the girls to get to me.

Livejournal. Title: "Not Hacked" Body: "I am serious. Bigelow is currently being robbed by individuals with guns who are threatening to kill us if we do not comply. I'm losing my grandmother's pearls." Which is a lie, Rich gave them to me, but. "Atlanta, Georgia. Corner of Dogwood and 17th, sixth floor. Robbery in progress." I post that, then try to cross-post it to facebook and myspace. Someone will call. Right?

There's a commotion, and I hear Julio's shout. Of course. He has to be a hero.
Date: 2016-01-24 05:36 pm (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
"Um. I don't like Cathy very much?" someone says, voice pitched high enough I can't recognize it. I cross-post and wonder if I can get away with calling 911. I inch toward the phone on my desk. Nothing to see here, nosiree.
Date: 2016-01-24 06:41 pm (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
"Well you--said you wanted attention. So."

I glance at the person they've shoved into the center--not Cathy, Cynthia--and then back at them. "News stations are effective when you've actually got substance to advertise."

I put my hands back on the keyboard. A part of me--probably the same part that had asked if I could help her--was wondering, quite calmly, Who's going to pick up Elizabeth if they shoot me?
Date: 2016-01-24 07:52 pm (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
I breathe in, then out, counting measures in my head. My hands shake on the keyboard. I go back to livejournal and start narrating, hitting post every few paragraphs.

I want to ask what on Earth they actually want--we're not badly off, but there are simpler places for a robbery--but she doesn't seem terribly interested in clarifying. Julio finally stops talking, and Cynthia squeaks.

I write down what Ms. Blue is saying verbatim. She seems to have a flair for the dramatic, and it's at least a little more difficult to get pissed at someone who is relaying your exact words.
Date: 2016-01-27 04:34 am (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
"What!" Cynthia shrieks. "Why!"

Julio takes a breath, then pauses. "Actually, that's a good question. What the fuck."
Date: 2016-01-27 05:12 am (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
"Julio takes a deep breath," I type, "and appears to steady himself. He's clearly about to volunteer, and Eva Blue looks calm and pleased. Also, those of you at home, please find a way to contact someone in an emergency through your computer. I feel rather ridiculous right now." Post.

(Did the guard behind me just snort?)

"All right," Julio says. "I guess--"

"W-wait." Cynthia's shaking, her voice probably the steadiest part of her. "It's. It's my fault. You weren't. I mean. It's okay." Cynthia looks at Eva. "If. If you're going to shoot someone, it sh-should be me."

Julio gapes. "No it shouldn't! I'm just here because I wouldn't give my watch over! You're here because you tried to prevent a guy being shot!"

"That's not the point, at least you were risking yourself."

"So were you!"

"Well, okay, but I didn't know that--"

"And I did?"

"Look--"
Date: 2016-01-27 05:29 am (UTC)

casey_papillon: picture of a blue butterfly on a transparent background (Default)
From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
"Cathy!"

I hope it's a leg hit. Or something. That didn't look aimed; humans are good at redundancies in most of their body, just as long as she doesn't bleed out...

I'm shaking again. Too many typos to be legible until my third or fourth time through the post.

"Fuck." Julio retches. "Me, okay?"

Cynthia doesn't say a word. I glance over and she's staring at Cathy. Her lips are moving; I think she's saying, "I didn't mean it."

Date: 2016-01-27 05:46 am (UTC)

casey_papillon: picture of a blue butterfly on a transparent background (Default)
From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
"Eva Blue turns her back on the dumbstruck crowd."

I'm typing the next line before it happens.

"To the surprise of no one who has been in a meeting with him, Julio tackles her."
Date: 2016-01-27 06:00 am (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
They actually get out the door this time. Everyone freezes where they are, and I count to twenty in my head, slowly as I can make myself. Maybe five seconds.

Then I swing for the phone on my desk and dial 911. "Hello? There was an armed robbery. At least two injured, maybe more; the robbers just left." I give them the address and my name, then say that yes, I can stay on the line.

"Hey!" I cover the lower half of my phone with my hand and pretend this is a training exercise. "Who has first aid experience!" My heart is in my throat and I couldn't keep my hands steady to save my life, but. I have to do something.
Date: 2016-01-28 12:39 am (UTC)

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From: [personal profile] casey_papillon
The local news eats it up. It's on the front page of at least two newspapers the next day, and the increase in Bigelow's traffic--web and foot--is enough that they need new security and can manage to afford it.

I know that the new security wouldn't actually stop Eva Blue and company, but honestly, there's very little that would unless we gave the guards machine guns.

That, "and company," grew one smaller. Apparently our guards had managed to do something, though they'd died. That's four dead, two more injured. Ours get their names circulated hardly at at, and when they do they're quick as a breath. More often it's just one dead or two dead, depending on who they feel like counting.

I force my smile for the networks, and I let it look forced. My eyes get bright, too. I cry exactly once, the first interview, before Julio is even out of the hospital, when we're still not sure if Cathy will make it. That clip gets a lot of airtime. It shouldn't surprise me.

Eva gets called "crazed" and "psychotic" more than I would like, and, despite my best judgment, I read and listen to the responses that non-journalists have. Some of them say that if someone should have died, it should have been Julio, for masked or baldly racist reasons.

I crack my knuckles. The posts are up, and I might as well use them. Time for some spin.

I mention Cynthia's name, Cathy's name, Julio's name, and find the dead guy's name--Pyetro. I resolutely avoid writing or saying Eva Blue's name in anything recorded. She shouldn't be the point. She will be, anyway, but I don't have to help.
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