i could steal mars from the moon [heist baddies]
Jan 17, 2021 20:51:50 GMT -5
Post by brad bradford ★ d5b [arx] on Jan 17, 2021 20:51:50 GMT -5
xxxxx
The dusk pulls the ocean away from me, slow and steady as the sun sinks and spills into the surf. The beat I've had stuck in my head all damn day sounds distant and tinny against the oil drum I'd claimed as my home over a decade ago. She may be rusty and half-buried in sand now, but I can still see my victory in the jagged edges—hands unsteady, arms aching, stomach grumbling, feet bare, clothes in tatters, scalp on fire, but- this old drum belonged to me.
The back of my hand catches awkwardly—"Fuck."—on the metal as I pull my mask from it's hiding place. Maybe I deserved that for calling her 'old', but- "Coulda picked anywhere, y'know. You ain't so special," I kick sand toward the inanimate object. No response. "Whatever," I grumble, sucking at the blood on my hand. When the wind blows, the barrel hums a low, soothing lullaby. I sigh, kissing my fingertips before pressing them gently to rusty edges. "Be back later."
The sun has completely set by the time I reach the place where Echo suggested we meet. Shadows drape over me like a cloak, shielding me from law-abiding eyes and swirling floodlights. I hadn't believed Echo when he told me just how easy this would be, but apparently the guy running dock security could sleep through anything—which did include getting a dick tattooed on his face as Echo had suggested. And though I worry that any extra challenge will drag us down-
"Well, shit," I say, smile not-so-well hidden beneath the mask as I clap him on the shoulder. "Fine. I'll let ya blow one thing up, aight?" I tell myself I'm keeping that genius mind of his entertained, but really?
I'm just in the mood to watch something explode.
"pitch black, pale blue; there was a stained glass variation of the truth."