a curious case of deja vu (natasha and muse blitz)

[lance]

NATASHA DELACROIX

She'd been many things in the short seventeen years that made up up her life.

Unwanted. Adopted. Bastard. Sister. Gang member.

She'd gone by many names in the same amount of time.

Alder. Xu. Delacroix.

But right now, at this very moment, Natasha was just one thing.

Bored out of her fucking mind.

The moon rose on a clear ebony backdrop, shining in all of its mystical glory down on the quiet buildings of the District Nine underworld. But the hour did little to discourage many on the cool spring evening, scattered singles and duos and the occasional group making their presence known on the streets.

She ducked around a middle-aged couple, interest almost negligible as she looked for a suitable target. Eyes swiveled back and forth, flitting from one adult to the next with little luck.

Inwardly, she cursed. Old people were so difficult to prank.

She searches for a few minutes, slowly making her way towards the suburbs, when she finally spotted him.

Perfect.

The teenage boy was dressed comfortably but not extravagantly, a clear sign of his middle-class status, and appeared to be on his own, lost in thought.

She followed him for a while, through streets and alleyways, until finally, they were alone.

Seizing her chance, she lunged forward in one quick move, left arm encircling around his neck - a moderately difficult task, given that he had a height advantage on her by some inches - and her right removing her pistol and pressing it against his temple in one fell swoop.

"Drop your possessions right now, pretty boy." she snarled, digging the gun in to emphasize her point. "Or I'll blow your brains out before you can so much as flinch."

The gun was actually empty, but he didn't need to know that.

Not yet, anyway.

[Tom]

Writing Thinking Hearing Saying

All he wanted was a day to himself. Hot guys aside, all he wanted was a day to himself where nothing but relaxation could happen. A nice walk through the district, breathe in the fresh air and just have a perfect day, but nothing ever truly went the way he liked for it to. He should have learned by now that nothing ever goes the way he wants it to.

An arm grabs him and all he wants to do is scream, but he feels the pistol against the side of his head. Mind goes into overdrive. Heart quickens it's beats as he hears her speak about dropping his possessions and blowing his brains out. He liked his brains too much to lose them now. His parents were going to kill him when he gets home with nothing. The words pretty boy ring in his ear a little bit longer than normal. Fear strikes through his heart as he can remember the maelstrom in his dream comes back. Pulling him under the water as the air escapes his lungs. This felt like the same thing.

"M-Miss. Did you j-just call me pretty?"

Reaching in his pockets, he empties his wallet and a few pencils to the ground out of fear. He couldn't see her. Only the arm around his neck is what he can see. The pistol feels hard against his temple. He only speaks one more phrase in the terrifying situation.

"J-Just please don't hurt me."

[lance]

NATASHA DELACROIX

"M-Miss. Did you j-just call me pretty?" The boy asked, voice full of confusion and fear

She barely managed to stifle a snort in response. Boy's got his priorities straight, that's for sure, she thought, halfway between exasperated and amused.

A wallet plops to the ground, followed by the clattering of a few pencils.

"J-Just please don't hurt me." he pleaded, fear winning out over confusion this time.

She paused, as if considering the proposal, and at the count of five she decided that it was time to drop the facade.

She removed the gun and shoved the boy forward in one smooth motion, putting space in between them on the off chance that he decided to retaliate. Her snarl melted into an amused smirk as she holstered her gun. In one smooth motion, it was hidden, camouflaged back beneath the overcoat that she was wearing.

"Relax, pretty boy," she cooed towards her now ex-target. "I wasn't actually going to rob you."

That much, at least, was true.

"Trust me, the reaction alone was worth the trouble." she continued, smirk growing into full-fledged shit-eating grin.

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, and if she hadn't been brandishing a gun thirty seconds ago, one might have mistaken her for just another ordinary teenager out for an evening stroll.

But as the boy had no doubt figured out, she was no ordinary teenager.

[Tom]

Writing Thinking Hearing Saying

Fear struck through his heart. The arm loosens for a second, hesitation in her arm, or that's what he would have called it if it wasn't for the gun being removed from his head. He falls forward with a shove. His body screams to run. His heart pumping blood as his brain screams to flee from the area. That is until he heard her voice. The gun gone as he stares at her. The smirk that appears on her face sends shivers of fear down his spine.

It was a joke.

His head was processing her words. The name pretty boy coming up again, leading to him rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in annoyance. Muse pulls the wallet and pencils back into his pockets, ignoring her for a moment, until he speaks up again with the same question.

"Did you just call me pretty again? I'm not pretty. I'm more of a handsome man who is terrified of guns and being robbed."

Another roll of his eyes as he takes in her appearance. Blonde hair that flows down from her head. Pretty blues eyes that seemed so familiar to him. He's never seen her before though, but deep down, something kept telling him that he knew her. That was impossible. He's only met hot guys who he's painted and drawn. Not a girl who was pretty and deadly. Pretty deadly. Deadly pretty. Whoever she was, she struck his interest.

"Hmmm... From the gun and everything, I'm guessing you're in one of those gangs that cause trouble around here. So which one are you? A Delacroix or a Vindicta?"

His parents may not kill him, but that question might get him killed by the girl in front of him. There was no stopping him now. His interest was intrigued and when he wanted to know things, he got them. Arms wrapped around his chest, a gulp of nervousness down his throat, and curiosity stuck within his head. He was so screwed either way.

[lance]

NATASHA DELACROIX

"Did you just call me pretty again? I'm not pretty. I'm more of a handsome man who is terrified of guns and being robbed."

The indignant tone in the boy's voice teases a chuckle out of her. As I said, definitely has his priorities in order.

"What can I say?" she replied with a shrug. "Pretending to rob people is almost more fun than actually robbing people."

But the boy wasn't done yet. "Hmmm... From the gun and everything, I'm guessing you're in one of those gangs that cause trouble around here." That caught her attention, and she refocused her gaze upon him with a newfound interest. "So which one are you? A Delacroix or a Vindicta?"

Interesting.

"You certainly know your underworld well, pretty- sorry, handsome boy," she mused.

It was odd. She had the strangest feeling that somehow, she should know who the boy was, baby face and all. There was something so unknown and yet so familiar about it...

She shoved the thought to the back of her head. "You guessed correctly, though, so congratulations." The shit-eating smirk was back on her face, even as her mind worked furiously to try and connect the boy to her past.

"The name's Natasha Delacroix, of the Delacroixs, obviously." she continued. "But you can call me Nat."

[Tom]

Writing Thinking Hearing Saying

Pretending to rob people was more fun. All he could do was chuckle at her words. Robbing, pretend or not, did not sound fun, especially from his position. Being robbed wasn't fun. He's been robbed once before, though that was a misunderstanding since it was some rat who stole his favorite snack. Being a kid was rough. Parents expected everything from him, yet he hated doing really anything that they wanted him to do. He can remember the lies that they told him. He could barely stomach the things that they wished he would have done.

Eyes connect as she looks surprised at his knowledge. His parents were rich. They knew more than most people did about the underground world. Names of the gangs were easy to see, not by the common eye, but for him it was easy. Rumors among the rich were truth usually, unless it was something good about someone. Everyone had dirty laundry that could be aired. He learned that growing up from his parents. Their dirty laundry was himself, so nothing could really get him. She confirms his guess and he only smiles his grin. He was pretty good at the whole guessing game. As she introduces herself as Natasha Delacroix or Nat, his heart stops. The name felt so familiar, but it wasn't exactly right. He didn't know why, but he ignored it.

"What a pretty name for a deadly girl. I'm Muse. Muse Stratos."

His grin stays upon his face, heart upon his sleeve. The familiar name sends shivers down his spine, something seemed so familiar about her, but he couldn't put it into words. It's almost like he's seen her in a distant place so far away. As he stares for a second, he speaks again. Not knowing what to say to the deadly blonde girl.


"So, what's a deadly girl with a pretty name doing out here? Besides pranking a handsome man like me? Not enough excitement in the underworld for you?"