ℒucie. · @DeviousAtaxi
3rd May 2016 from TwitLonger
[Solo #4]
// Throwback - Set after college and before Solo #3 //
14th December. The date was written in beautiful calligraphy at the top of the sign in book by someone who either had way too much time on their hands or just /really/ liked fancy writing. After picking up the rather expensive fountain pen, Larissa wrote her name neatly below on one of the lines that followed. But it wasn't her name, no. Cordelia Patterman was the name she had so carefully written, followed along with a perfectly mastered signature to envy any other.
It was the perfect plan, really. They had kidnapped the beautiful blonde millionaire, made an entire copy of all that was needed from her DNA to her handwriting, and sent Larissa off to retrieve her wealth. Truthfully, Larissa had no idea what they intended to do with the woman; whether they were going to kill her and discretely wipe her life from existence or give her one heck of a scare and set her free. She didn’t know. She didn’t /want/ to know. Knowing anything would just add to another list of things she could be held guilty for. The smaller that list was, the better. If she just did what she had been asked to do, if she just did her job, then she would be able to leave this situation unharmed and with a little extra money in her pocket to get by a few more months.
“For someone with /that/ much money, this Cordelia woman doesn’t seem all too concerned about keeping it safe.” That was what Larissa was thinking to herself as the friendly enough looking guard waved her through into the holding room, the cell key clutched between her digits. “Open the cell. Take the jewels. Take the money. Never look suspicious. If anyone asks, tell them you’re taking it to a safer place elsewhere. Be believable. Never break character.” Larissa thought over each of the instructions given to her as she walked the entire length of the iron clad room, her stiletto heels click-clicking against the marble floor. With a jingle of keys and a clanking of metal, Patterman’s cell was placed down onto the viewing table, its contents methodically removed one by one and dropped into the designer looking handbag she was carrying along with her. Repeating the process in reverse she had soon returned the cell to where it belonged, locking it and walking back down the length of the room, giving the guard a polite smile as she left before she dropped the key back off at reception. They hadn't suspected a thing.
It was done. She had pulled it off. She was free from 'them'.
Or so she thought..