The boutique was eerily silent, the only sound being the rustle of fabric as she walked. Once inside the fitting room, she closed the door behind her, setting her chosen items down.
As Beatrice put on the dress, she felt a strange mix of reluctance and excitement. Blade's influence was strong, but she couldn't deny the transformation in the mirror.
The low-cut neckline showcased her assets boldly, and the coat added a touch of sophistication.
"Damn…!"
"Now, that's how you use your assets!" Blade remarked with satisfaction as she played Beatrice's breasts, squeezing and adjusting them to accentuate their appearance.
She adjusted the collar of the coat, ensuring the deep cleavage was prominently displayed.
Beatrice looked at herself, a mix of surprise and uncertainty. "I don't usually dress like this," she thought, but there was a newfound confidence in her stance.
"Exactly," Blade responded, her voice smooth and persuasive. "It's time to embrace a new side of yourself. Slutty Beatrice."
As Beatrice walked, the internal struggle with Blade intensified.
"I'm going to the police station to report Atlas," Beatrice insisted, her resolve unwavering.
Blade's mocking laugh echoed in her mind. "You're delusional. Do you really think the police can protect you from him? You'll just get caught by Atlas's men."
"I have to try," Beatrice shot back, her frustration growing. "I can't just keep running forever."
"Going to the police is a suicide mission," Blade retorted. "Atlas has connections everywhere. The moment you step inside that station, they'll be alerted. You'll be caught, and all this will have been for nothing."
Beatrice paused, her mind racing. Blade's words rang true, but the thought of doing nothing was unbearable.
"So what then? What's your brilliant plan?"
"Me?"
She shifted her focus to the women's section, zeroing in on the latest new arrivals. The racks were filled with chic and trendy pieces, perfect for her needs.
She picked out a few items, her hands moving swiftly as she selected dresses, tops, and accessories.
"I would rather fuck myself cause, damn, you're hot! No, I mean, I am hot woman!"
"Shut up!"
"Sorry, I'm kidding. Think strategically," Blade replied, her tone more serious. "We need to gather evidence, expose Atlas in a way he can't cover up and take him down. Running to the police is useless. We need to hit him where it hurts, and we can't do that if we're locked up or dead."
Beatrice clenched her fists, feeling the weight of her predicament. "You're right. But we need allies, and we need a plan. Hiding forever isn't an option, Blade."
"Yes," Blade said. "We need to find someone who can help us without risking immediate exposure. Someone outside of Atlas's reach, who has the resources and the guts to take him down."
Beatrice took a deep breath, feeling a sense of reluctant agreement. "Alright. No police. But we can't do this alone. Where do we start?"
"We start by finding someone who hates Atlas as much as we do." Blade replied.
"Wait? Do you hate Atlas?"
"Excuse me, Madam? He killed me?" Blade retorted. "We need someone with power and a grudge to Atlas. Trust me, there are plenty out there. Cyrus is one of them, but it's not time to use him yet."
"Why not?" Beatrice asked.
"Because Cyrus has his own agenda," Blade explained. "And I don't like the way he tries to control us."
"Us? Now you go with us?"
"What? You need my help or not?"
Beatrice nodded, her mind clearer now. "Okay. You're right. But I know a cop I can trust to help us find out what's been happening while I was in coma and unconsious. His name is David Ramirez. He's my old childhood friend. He's hated Atlas for as long as I can remember, though I never understood why. He was against my marriage to Atlas from the start."
"Perfect," Blade said. "David sounds like exactly the kind of ally we need. Reach out to him, but be cautious. We can't afford to tip Atlas off."
Beatrice took a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "Alright. I'll find David and see what he can tell us."
"Let's get out of here," Blade whispered in her mind, and Beatrice couldn't agree more.
She made her way through the darkened streets, her new clothes hidden beneath a long coat she had found in the boutique.
*
A young detective sat at his cluttered desk in the bustling precinct, sifting through a pile of case files. The constant hum of activity around him was almost comforting, a familiar backdrop to his thoughts. His concentration was interrupted by a knock on his door.
"Detective Ramirez?" Officer Jenkins stepped in, a concerned expression on his face. "There's someone here to see you about a missing person."
"Send them in," Ramirez replied, setting aside the file he was working on.
A young woman entered the room, her face pale and drawn. She looked anxious, her eyes darting around the room before settling on Ramirez.
"Detective Ramirez? I'm Victoria Carter. I need to report my sister, Beatrice Carter Hawk, missing."
"Beatrice? Beatrice is missing?!" Ramirez exclaimed, surprised and concerned.
*