(no subject)
It's been a difficult journey. Belle's not sure why rich folks like to live on private islands; it seems like such a waste of money to her. But this one does, and it annoys her how much effort she had to put into getting there in the first place. She's gotten a call at three am from her snoop at his stateside home, saying that he was taking in more supplies.
Two hours later Belle was on the supply ship, having hacked into it's registry, changed a new crewman (who she had drugged and put in a trunk on a different ship), to a female, and convinced the others that she was capable only because she used telepathy to cheat.
Finally, she'd found herself on the island. It was impressive, it was sandy, warm, and probably used to be home to many interesting species of wildlife. But that was before the most obscenely huge house possible had been built. When you live on a one mile by roughly half mile spit of sand, there's not much you can do in the way of ground floor. So the upper layers had been put on stilts.
The captain caught her staring. "Yeah, obscene, isn't it? C'mon girlie, let's just dump this shit 'n' go."
Belle nodded and began unloading. Luckily the man had an aversion to giving away any of his money, so there was no one to carry the supplies to the house but the sailors, who were greatly annoyed.
Once Belle got inside, she stripped out of her bulky outerclothing, revealing a plated but still very flexible guild issue costume in dark grey, including a hood that covered her hair and face.
She stalked through the house, trying to figure out where she could safely hide until night. Once she killed him, she'd steal his yacht, go to Mexico, dump it, and then hitchhike back home.
A closet full of musty coats and shoes provided good enough cover for Belle. She waited many hours, dozing off and on to pass the time. Everytime he walked by, which was twice, Belle stiffened, and tightened her grip on her knife. But he never opened the closet, and at midnight, Belle slipped out, her costume making her harder to see in the absolute black of the house.
She'd kept track of his movements, and had a good guess that he was upstairs, so she found the steps and slowly began climbing. Luckily the house was fairly new, so the steps didn't creak on her way up.
Things had been going so smoothly, she should have suspected something was up. Her target was waiting for her when she got to the top of the steps, gun in hand. "You should have stowed away, the captain noticed you were missing."
Belle lifts her hands slowly. He nods and cocks his gun. "Lay face down on the floor. Don't move afterward." She sighs and slowly complies, while he pulls out a roll of duct tape. He starts tearing pieces off, but he's having a hard time keeping his gun straight. But Belle doesn't move until he roughly takes both of her hands in his, to tape them behind her back.
There are several advantages Belle has over him. She's taller, stronger, faster, and has training. Plus, when he does shoot her, it only dents her armor. However, his bathrobe is no protection against the knife she slips under his ribs and into his heart. Belle throws him onto the floor, knife still in hand. He's not dead yet, and Belle wants to take no chances.
It's not hard to put her knife in the same hole at a different angle. She punctures each lung, and watches as he dies.
Now the only change in plan is that she has to dump his boat further south than she originally planned. She's still keyed up from the adrenaline rush when she starts his boat, and peels away from the dock.
Two hours later Belle was on the supply ship, having hacked into it's registry, changed a new crewman (who she had drugged and put in a trunk on a different ship), to a female, and convinced the others that she was capable only because she used telepathy to cheat.
Finally, she'd found herself on the island. It was impressive, it was sandy, warm, and probably used to be home to many interesting species of wildlife. But that was before the most obscenely huge house possible had been built. When you live on a one mile by roughly half mile spit of sand, there's not much you can do in the way of ground floor. So the upper layers had been put on stilts.
The captain caught her staring. "Yeah, obscene, isn't it? C'mon girlie, let's just dump this shit 'n' go."
Belle nodded and began unloading. Luckily the man had an aversion to giving away any of his money, so there was no one to carry the supplies to the house but the sailors, who were greatly annoyed.
Once Belle got inside, she stripped out of her bulky outerclothing, revealing a plated but still very flexible guild issue costume in dark grey, including a hood that covered her hair and face.
She stalked through the house, trying to figure out where she could safely hide until night. Once she killed him, she'd steal his yacht, go to Mexico, dump it, and then hitchhike back home.
A closet full of musty coats and shoes provided good enough cover for Belle. She waited many hours, dozing off and on to pass the time. Everytime he walked by, which was twice, Belle stiffened, and tightened her grip on her knife. But he never opened the closet, and at midnight, Belle slipped out, her costume making her harder to see in the absolute black of the house.
She'd kept track of his movements, and had a good guess that he was upstairs, so she found the steps and slowly began climbing. Luckily the house was fairly new, so the steps didn't creak on her way up.
Things had been going so smoothly, she should have suspected something was up. Her target was waiting for her when she got to the top of the steps, gun in hand. "You should have stowed away, the captain noticed you were missing."
Belle lifts her hands slowly. He nods and cocks his gun. "Lay face down on the floor. Don't move afterward." She sighs and slowly complies, while he pulls out a roll of duct tape. He starts tearing pieces off, but he's having a hard time keeping his gun straight. But Belle doesn't move until he roughly takes both of her hands in his, to tape them behind her back.
There are several advantages Belle has over him. She's taller, stronger, faster, and has training. Plus, when he does shoot her, it only dents her armor. However, his bathrobe is no protection against the knife she slips under his ribs and into his heart. Belle throws him onto the floor, knife still in hand. He's not dead yet, and Belle wants to take no chances.
It's not hard to put her knife in the same hole at a different angle. She punctures each lung, and watches as he dies.
Now the only change in plan is that she has to dump his boat further south than she originally planned. She's still keyed up from the adrenaline rush when she starts his boat, and peels away from the dock.