Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 14. 2024.
Alessia sighs in exasperation, thinking about what a pain in the rear end Katya has been since her arrival. She pulls the trigger of her Barrett M821A sniper rifle, groaning at the thought of the plans the stubborn girl has in store for her once she gets home. She didn't get the fake ID's, but she claims to be an original so it doesn't matter.
The bronze 50 BMG bullet travels up to 1,000kms away, piercing the brick wall of the targeted building and decimating the skull of a lone man pacing his old apartment. Removing her face from the thermal scope attached to her gun, she starts pulling everything apart to put away in the right compartments of her long and narrow black case. She then closes the luggage, hearing the locks click into place.
Now, let's see what Kat's up to...
She doesn't hear when the car pulls up in the driveway, having herself locked away in Alessia's bedroom, skimming through clothes of only dark colours in the girl's closet. The Spectre by Alan Walker is on maximum, connected to the blue-tooth system hoisted in a corner of every room in the house. With the little building also being soundproof due to adjustments made after it was bought, Alessia can't hear the music itself, but but the vibrations are loud, rocking through the concrete like grinding marbles.
Definitely more annoyed than before, she calmly rings Petro and tells him about the mission, then after a thankfully short conversation, she digs her keys from out of a pouch she has secured around her waist, presses a button on the remote attached and...silence. With that, she unlocks the front door and literally inhales the piece and quiet, before unwillingly dragging herself upstairs.
"I'm not wearing that--" is the first thing she says, entering her room, when a hanger with a short black dress is shoved into her face. "Why do I even own that?"
"Look," Katya deadpans, "We're going to a club which host raves underground on Saturday nights. A. Rave. There will be loud, upbeat music, blacklights and the best henna painting. Everybody will be dressed in barely nothing so that they can get painted and I want you to show off those long, sexy legs of yours." She smirks at the last part, unhooking the clothing and throwing it at Alessia. "Don't forget this is your night for experiences."
She catches it, frowning in confusion. "Experiences as in...experimenting?"
Kat pauses, before speaking up slowly and taking in the doll-like look in her eyes, "It depends on what you mean by that word, Lexy."
She blushes uglily, asking another question to stall, "What if the paint irritates my skin?"
Her friend walks over to her and smacks her arm. "Stop acting delicate. You're wearing the dress. Now change."
Alessia stumbles away from the girl who has become more like an obsessive mother overtime. A mother that wants their child to go to a club underaged and get drunk that is. Katya intimidates her--not in a threatening way, however, she's nervous, putting on the backless dress that has a very deep v-neckline, disappearing behind a broad built in black belt. She buckles it as tight as her waist allows, brushing down the transparent black frills that stop just beneath her bottom.
Sighing at how much air she's feeling below, she stoops, pulling out her newest pair of boots. After slipping her feet into her black, ankle boot heels and lacing them up, Katya's eyes seem to have fallen in love, watching as Alessia straightens.
She looks at her form, from head to toe, muttering, "Lovely."