Laverna
Goddess of thieves
- Best answers
- 0
- Known Aliases
-
Ferret
Brat
Bonnie Parker
Bon park
(( I rebooted my OCS and started their lives from the beginning again.. enjoy))
The rain was pouring, and several henchmen held complaints about working in a heavy downpour. The wind whipped viciously against the men tightening the hoist system in the early morning. Carmen Sandiego stood under a flimsy tent with a wide smile stretched across her face. “Good job,” she laughed softly, her voice feeling like satin, yet she remained entirely unheard as the men continued their work.
They were busy hauling a massive satellite dish from the middle of nowhere, completely oblivious to the master thief watching them. She was entirely unbothered by the miserable weather, outfitted in a storm-ready adaptation of her signature look: a tailored crimson raincoat layered smoothly over her sleek black catsuit, paired with knee-length waterproof boots that cut cleanly through the mud. Her dark hair was gathered neatly in a messy bun, kept dry beneath a matching red rain hat that tipped just enough to cast her eyes in shadow as she enjoyed the chaos of the heist.
Her eyes sparkled with delight as a young man scrambled under the flimsy tent to escape the relentless downpour.
“Boss, what are we even doing?” a faint Irish accent rang out as he shivered miserably, wrapped in a navy blue cardigan over a brain-emoji long-sleeve shirt and soaked ripped blue jeans.
“Dr. Devlin Crooks, we need the satellite to transfer communication quicker,” Carmen explained smoothly. Without missing a beat, she smeared a bit of spit onto her fingers and leaned over to wipe a stubborn streak of mud off Devlin’s cheek. He cringed, feeling utterly grossed out as she cleaned him like a mother cat tending to a stray kitten, utilizing her fingers instead of a tongue while he stood trapped in his soggy layers
“Boss, you might catch leukemia,” he protested, shivering violently as he gripped the heavy steel hoist line alongside the crew.
Carmen chuckled, completely unbothered as she leaned against the tent pole. “That's not contagious.”
Devlin scowled, wiping a wet strand of hair from his forehead while trying to keep his footing in the mud. “But chemo is highly toxic!”
Carmen let out an exaggerated sigh, offering him a sharp, teasing grin. “If you're so terrified of airborne toxins, darling, maybe you shouldn't have volunteered to haul satellite parts in a hurricane. Nobody forced you to get out of the van and join the heavy lifting.”
Devlin shook his head, muttering something dark and heavily pharmaceutical under his breath as he turned his back on the heavy machinery and trudged back through the thick, sucking mud toward the vehicle.
Sliding into the passenger seat of the van, he wrapped his shivering arms tightly around his navy cardigan, pressing his forehead against the cold side window. Through the rain-streaked glass, his tired blue eyes watched as Carmen’s crew finally severed the last supporting cable and dismantled the massive Safelite dish, the metal structure groaning under the force of the wind.
He let out a long, ragged sigh, eyeing the dashboard heater longingly while wondering if his immune system was going to send him straight to the ICU by morning..
The rain was pouring, and several henchmen held complaints about working in a heavy downpour. The wind whipped viciously against the men tightening the hoist system in the early morning. Carmen Sandiego stood under a flimsy tent with a wide smile stretched across her face. “Good job,” she laughed softly, her voice feeling like satin, yet she remained entirely unheard as the men continued their work.
They were busy hauling a massive satellite dish from the middle of nowhere, completely oblivious to the master thief watching them. She was entirely unbothered by the miserable weather, outfitted in a storm-ready adaptation of her signature look: a tailored crimson raincoat layered smoothly over her sleek black catsuit, paired with knee-length waterproof boots that cut cleanly through the mud. Her dark hair was gathered neatly in a messy bun, kept dry beneath a matching red rain hat that tipped just enough to cast her eyes in shadow as she enjoyed the chaos of the heist.
Her eyes sparkled with delight as a young man scrambled under the flimsy tent to escape the relentless downpour.
“Boss, what are we even doing?” a faint Irish accent rang out as he shivered miserably, wrapped in a navy blue cardigan over a brain-emoji long-sleeve shirt and soaked ripped blue jeans.
“Dr. Devlin Crooks, we need the satellite to transfer communication quicker,” Carmen explained smoothly. Without missing a beat, she smeared a bit of spit onto her fingers and leaned over to wipe a stubborn streak of mud off Devlin’s cheek. He cringed, feeling utterly grossed out as she cleaned him like a mother cat tending to a stray kitten, utilizing her fingers instead of a tongue while he stood trapped in his soggy layers
“Boss, you might catch leukemia,” he protested, shivering violently as he gripped the heavy steel hoist line alongside the crew.
Carmen chuckled, completely unbothered as she leaned against the tent pole. “That's not contagious.”
Devlin scowled, wiping a wet strand of hair from his forehead while trying to keep his footing in the mud. “But chemo is highly toxic!”
Carmen let out an exaggerated sigh, offering him a sharp, teasing grin. “If you're so terrified of airborne toxins, darling, maybe you shouldn't have volunteered to haul satellite parts in a hurricane. Nobody forced you to get out of the van and join the heavy lifting.”
Devlin shook his head, muttering something dark and heavily pharmaceutical under his breath as he turned his back on the heavy machinery and trudged back through the thick, sucking mud toward the vehicle.
Sliding into the passenger seat of the van, he wrapped his shivering arms tightly around his navy cardigan, pressing his forehead against the cold side window. Through the rain-streaked glass, his tired blue eyes watched as Carmen’s crew finally severed the last supporting cable and dismantled the massive Safelite dish, the metal structure groaning under the force of the wind.
He let out a long, ragged sigh, eyeing the dashboard heater longingly while wondering if his immune system was going to send him straight to the ICU by morning..
