like a daily routine. (open)

[LULU "FARAH" MAYSOON]

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Just like any day. That’s how she thought of it, like a daily routine. Nothing different than waking up every morning and staring in a mirror, wondering why you did, wondering what made you glare up at yourself. Simple repetition, clear and sound. Nothing different than usual. Yes, that’s how it felt now, wake up- pick a target, something carrying a lot of bank- a heist beyond that of taking money, but taking respect. That challenge; like your everyday test: would she kill someone, would she snatch more than she can really hold, would she resist with force or with actions, would she die today? Running through her were all these possibilities, even as she sat their murky, distorted in the sahdows against a wall. Up high against the cinderblock channel of stone walls lining an open-way in front of her. People trotted along, oblivious, to her and what was going to happen. Directly in front of her is a large bank, sprawling Elvin design littering it and a stairway and golden rails leading to the large doors it bared.

Her gloved chocolate hands tightened in her pockets as she lay covered by most of the ebony cloak n’ cape she wore. The wide leather hat hovering over her face, barely masking the ominous red glare beneath them. Only thing that remotely stood out, since she wore her leather-suit -black as ebony- and those high rising boots and leather thigh-highs; was her inexplicably ivory hair. She suddenly raised something from her pocket, a paper, folded and wrinkled. She used her fingers to pry it open and stared at the name and number written inside. Luis Vellice Decardo, sole goal in life was to catch every bounty alive and make their lives a living hell. For herself, this meant the perfect target- steal his cash and her bounty goes skyrocketing. And considering he was actually somewhat successful at his job, though he had mercenaries doing his jobs half the time, he had some bank. Her eyes lifted grimly to the door’s presence in the distance. It was about time, wasn’t it? It was time to get this show on the road. She took a deep breath, her heart gaining in pace, fighter's flight almost an instant reaction now.

Farah pushed herself from the wall, entering freefall and landing from what seemed like two-stories of brick and glass sd if it was nothing. Not even taking a breath she started to walk forward; strong, powerful, people shifting out her way as she entered crowds, like a disruptive stone in a flow of water. As soon as she reached the doors, an iron wrapped foot suddenly slammed it right open. She felt the entire banks gaze come right over her, however kept her eyes on the male on front counter who seemed to grow nervous as she approached. Pulling her right arm from the depths of her cloak, there was a sudden swirl of shadows and darkness emanated from the open air to form mystically levitating daggers, spiraling around her wrist. She raised the revolving weapons up to males face with a limp arm and her gaze seemed nonchalant. ‘Oh god, please don’t kill me.’ Was he first reaction and as soon as he spoke those words, the entire place broke into a riot. Everyone went shrieking to the door. ”Hey dipshit, who said you can talk?” she suddenly commanded.

Farah only took a glance around until she gazed to a locked vault with extension number she wanted, all the while her held-up captive shivered to himself. ”If you want to keep your head, then you’re gonna listen real good, kay?” he nodded, shockingly of course and watched as she pointed to a specific vault number and lifted from her other pocket a folded tan sac and tossed it at him. “Fill it with everything in there.” he shook and looked around confused, and she scoffed and looked away, was this dude deaf? “Now.” she growled fiercely. Pretty much almost shitting himself, he whimpered and reached for the vault, not taking his time in sliding it open and dumping every rupee inside into the sac.

TAGS;
OOC;

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