Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 17. 2024.
"How was your day?" Petro asks from the passenger seat of Alessia's small sports car.
"Slightly better." She says, driving at the speed limit this time. "Weirder," A groan escapes her lips, "but, at least it was better this time.
He regards her posture. Her right hand is on the gear and her left hand is on the at steering wheel. She's relaxed in her seat with her eyes focused on the road. He's proud that she adapted to living on her own quickly and taught herself how to drive over the span of a week, during the Summer. Getting her licensed and registered wasn't a problem, now, here she is. However, he has a question for her and he needs a clear answer.
"How is school?" He has always asked her about her day, but he'd like to know her thoughts on school overall. Has her experience done anything to change her mind?
She lets out the biggest sigh ever. "As I thought, the subjects and classes are fascinating..." She trails, lifting her right hand to swipe hair from her face. "...But, the students aren't what I expected. They aren't hard to deal with though..."
The engine of the car drones on in the small silence that settles between the two, while Petro nods sardonically. She still wants to go to school. Well, that clarifies everything for now.
"We're here." Alessia states, turning into the parking lot of Petro's company. The skyscraper is one of the tallest on the City of Los Angeles and it does well as a coverup for what goes on in the very top. "I'll be coming in too."
He frowns at her. "Why?"
"I need a different model of sniper. I made a mistake." She tells him and he decides to not pry.
Still, he comments at how odd she's becoming. "You've been making a lot of mistakes recently."
She says nothing to that. Although this mistake was a honest one, it doesn't change the fact that she's losing her grip. Katya was on her mind and she forgot to collect her bullet from the apartment of that junkie she sniped. Investigators are always trying to find the Phantom and they can easily track that bullet to the model, which company creates it, who they sponsor, all the way down to the list of who are the customers that buy the model, when. She has no idea how Petro gets his weapons, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful.
She follows him into the cave of nostalgia, sauntering by older, familiar faces. Going into the same lame designed box of an elevator, she's greeted by no other than the fickle Micheal Frayer with a tablet clutched to his chest.
"Woah, Alexa! What a surprise!"
"Hello, Micheal." She gives him a brief nod, walking briskly behind Mr. Moskal to the storage room. "I'm not hear for pleasantries, so tell the little ones hey for me." She shouts loud enough for him to hear.
"S–Sure, okay."
Micheal watches unblinkingly the solemn girl and his boss disappear around a corner. A dark, depressing cloud of darkness seems to rest on her shoulders like a weightless boulder. But, it isn't weightless and somehow, she's walking.
In the world, there are many different kinds of people. Religious, non-religious, homosexuals, homophobics, psychopaths, sociopaths, buyers, sellers, thieves, man and woman, etcetera. Well, have you ever heard of someone who can see 'things'. Micheal is a person who could see things that many can't, like looking through a rift into the second dimension, a sixth sense. His eyes are said to be open. And, what he has seen drifting behind that tasteless girl is a curse made from her built up sorrows, and it is only getting stronger, heavier and harder to carry.
He didn't miss the slight drag of her feet.
Micheal turns around, shuddering, and he goes the opposite direction, tapping his fingers calculatingly on the back of his tablet.