The goddaughter ((my actual storyline))

[Laverna]

(( my character doesn't fit in the storyline of the site so she's separate ))



The troublesome sixteen-year-old Laverna found herself sitting in Ms. Goldie Day’s obscure and secretive office, hidden in the maze of the Marie Curie Research Institute. Goldie wasn’t here yet; her leather office chair remained empty, and the computer’s screensaver bounced lazily across the screen, suggesting it hadn’t been touched in quite some time.





Laverna didn’t have to wait long. Ms. Day entered, a tote bag stuffed to the brim with various items swinging at her side. “Good evening, Laverna,” she greeted, setting the tote down on the antiqued mahogany desk with a gentle motion.





“Good evening, Ms. Day,” Laverna replied, her eyes cast downward as she peeked through her lashes at her therapist.





Ms. Day nodded in approval of Laverna's quiet greeting, then gently propped her chin up with a light touch. “Let’s keep your head up,” she encouraged, her tone warm yet firm.





“Now, shall we get started on why I invited you here this evening?” Goldie asked softly, pulling out the contents of the bag one by one. Laverna watched with curiosity as her therapist placed a spearmint and eucalyptus essential oil candle on the desk.





Laverna nodded as Ms. Day retrieved a brand-new lighter from the bag. In moments, the three candle wicks were flickering to life, filling the room with a calming aroma.


“I wanted to do an occupational therapy session with you,” Goldie explained, placing two empty Styrofoam cups on the table. “You’re free to leave at any time.”





“They’re empty,” Laverna grumbled, watching as Ms. Day scraped her nails against the foam, creating a soft, sizzling sound.





“They're not for drinking,” Ms. Day replied, encouraging Laverna to mimic her actions. “They’re for destroying.”





Laverna tilted her head, a mix of confusion and intrigue. She hesitated for a moment, then began to poke holes into the cup. As she tore it apart, she felt a sense of release. Within ten minutes, she had reduced the cup to a pile of foam pieces.





Ms. Day held out a small trash can, and Laverna discarded the remnants with a satisfied sigh. The session continued with quiet activities—sorting beads, playing memory games, and other exercises designed to engage her mind.





Once the hour concluded, Laverna left the office, making her way back to her dorm. She often felt a sense of watchfulness, her godmother's presence lingering in her mind as if Carmen Sandiego were keeping an eye on her every mood from afar.





.She tugged at her earrings, irritation flaring within her. She hated them, despising how they had appeared out of the blue after her move to this facility. The gold and black onyx studs seemed more like a surgical implant than mere accessories, their lack of backing making it impossible to remove them.





“Why won’t Carmen just explain?” Laverna groaned, frustration bubbling up as she felt the weight of the earrings pressing against her earlobes. They were a constant reminder of her situation, an unwelcome token from a world that felt increasingly confining.





“Beep,” it went, causing Laverna to raise an eyebrow. The sound was short-lived, abruptly silenced as if controlled by an outside source. The sudden stop reminded her of a nurse halting an IV drip, leaving a strange void in the air.





She couldn't shake the feeling that the beeping was somehow connected to her tugging on the earrings, sparking her curiosity even more. Just as she began to piece it together, the beeping ceased entirely, leaving her wondering who—or what—had intervened.





“Carmen, it’s like you can hear everything I say,” Laverna sighed, pulling out her pastel orange nightgown. “Honestly, will you ever explain your game, or will we just keep this silent treatment going?”





She was too preoccupied with her bedtime routine to notice Carmen standing in the doorway, her attention absorbed by a sleek smart tablet, fingers tapping away as if she were monitoring some unseen aspect of Laverna’s life.





“Your cortisol levels are still high, mi mija. I’m surprised Ms. Day’s treatment didn’t bring those numbers down as I’d hoped.” Carmen’s teasing voice held a cryptic quality, suggesting she knew more than she let on. Laverna caught a glimpse of something behind Carmen's playful demeanor, but she remained oblivious to the true implications of her words.





Laverna tugged off her grey and lavender striped tank top, lost in thought. As she turned around, she froze—Carmen was standing there, watching her. Her heart skipped, arms instinctively crossing over her white lace bralette. “How would you even know that?” she finally asked, the shock still evident in her voice.


Carmen reached up and tugged lightly on her own earlobe, a smirk playing on her lips. It was a silent, knowing gesture as she swiftly closed the distance between them. Without a word, she offered to help Laverna get ready for bed, her presence a quiet reassurance that she didn’t want Laverna dwelling on such trivial thoughts before sleep.





.Laverna, distracted, mentally worked through the syllables of *Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch* as she slipped into her pastel orange nightgown. The long name tumbled through her mind as she moved through her bedtime routine—washing her face, brushing her teeth, and cleaning beneath her nails, painted a dark grey this week. Carmen’s presence lingered, but Laverna focused on the rhythmic sounds of water and toothbrush bristles instead of her godmother’s cryptic silence.





.Laverna shot a glare at Carmen through the mirror, her eyes sharp with unspoken frustration as Carmen calmly combed through her unevenly cut, blue-black locks. The hair had been a product of her own hands—cut impulsively as a coping mechanism. The dye, with its dark tones and subtle blue undertones, was Laverna’s attempt to feel more connected to her godmother, whose own hair carried the same shade naturally. Yet, despite her efforts, the silent presence of Carmen felt distant, adding to the tension simmering beneath the surface.





.Carmen, ever the perfectionist, couldn’t help but notice the three things that always unsettled her about Laverna’s appearance. First, there was the small, brownish-black mark on the tip of her nose—a burn from an early childhood accident involving her older siblings, though it could easily be mistaken for a birthmark. Then there was the way Laverna hacked at her own hair as a coping mechanism, leaving it uneven and wild. And lastly, her goddaughter’s abnormally youthful look, a stark contrast to her sixteen years, as if she were frozen in a childlike state despite approaching adulthood.





Carmen could easily fix the mark and straighten out Laverna’s hair, but altering bone structure or genetics? That was a different story. Not because she lacked the capability—Carmen could do anything if she wanted—but such invasive changes didn’t align with her peculiar sense of morality. Human experimentation, purely for aesthetic satisfaction, felt beneath her, a line she wasn’t willing to cross even with all her power.





.Carmen knew Laverna’s silence stemmed from something deeper, but she didn’t push. As she retrieved a small dental kit from the drawer, she began fussing over Laverna as if she were a fragile doll. Carmen didn’t consider herself frightening, despite the unnerving quiet. She was simply scraping plaque off Laverna’s teeth—nothing sinister, just an act of care.

 

[Laverna]

."I need to teach you to brush properly," Carmen said calmly, her voice steady as she worked. "You missed a few chunks between your teeth." She handed Laverna the mouthwash, giving her a gentle nudge to rinse.


“Ma,” Laverna grumbled, her Southern accent slipping through, which made Carmen laugh

 

[Laverna]

Laverna stirred awake, the soft glow of her daybreak alarm clock filling the room with warmth. She blinked sleepily, rubbing her eyes, and took in her familiar surroundings—the cream-colored walls and the red paisley quilt that draped over her. The bed beneath her was made of feather pillows and a set of beige-gray cotton sheets, a comfort she’d grown used to.





With a reluctant sigh, she tossed the covers aside. Her mind briefly toyed with the idea of staying in bed all day, but her empty stomach had other plans. She slipped into an oversized black T-shirt that hung past her red pajama shorts and strapped on her red sandals.





Dragging herself to the cafeteria, Laverna moved through the halls with one goal in mind: eat and go back to sleep. There was nothing on her schedule for the day, and though she could have snacked on the free food in the rec room, she craved something more substantial before retreating into the comfort of her bed again.





.Laverna wasn’t in a terrible mood, but the memory of yesterday gnawed at her. The way she’d let herself be so compliant, like a dog rolling over for its master, left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t a smiling, obedient good girl—that much was certain.





This morning, she moved through the cafeteria with subtle cunning, her eyes darting around for anyone watching. She wasn’t that hungry, but the thrill of taking what she wanted gave her a spark of satisfaction. She slyly pocketed a Honeycrisp apple, then scooped a small container of peanut butter from the self-serve station. Not enough to seem like a meal, but just enough to feel rebellious.





Her yellow crocheted bag swung gently by her side, where she stashed her breakfast haul, including a bottle of grapefruit juice she managed to grab without drawing attention. It wasn’t much of a heist, but for Laverna, it was the little victories that counted.





Back in her small, cozy room, Laverna spread peanut butter on her apple and chewed it fiercely while gulping down grapefruit juice. It wasn't long before she heard a familiar knock at the door.





“Buenas días, mi princesa. Vamos a ir de compras esta tarde,” Carmen called, her voice echoing before the sound of her heels faded away.





Laverna groaned; her day off apparently included a shopping trip. Carmen had been hinting at wanting to buy Laverna some cowgirl boots.





She sighed as she finished her apple, tossing the core across the room, where it landed neatly in the trash can with a satisfying thud. Glancing down at her ensemble—pajama shorts peeking out from under an oversized T-shirt—she felt a twinge of regret. Maybe this outfit wasn't quite right for a shopping trip with her rich, classy godmother. With a resigned huff, she made her way to the closet, determined to find something more fitting for the afternoon ahead.





That afternoon, everything went smoothly. Laverna managed to stay composed, but every now and then, she found herself jumping at the sight of security guards, instinctively nervous. Carmen, ever the composed queen of crime, found it amusing and chuckled at her goddaughter’s jumpiness.





"Relax, kid," Carmen teased, her laugh echoing through the store. Despite the tension Laverna felt, the day passed without a hitch, leaving her relieved—and maybe a bit embarrassed—by the end of it.

 

[Jade]

[QUOTE="Laverna, post: 68906, member: 431}
“Buenas días, mi princesa. Vamos a ir de compras esta tarde,” Carmen called, her voice echoing before the sound of her heels faded away.
[/QUOTE]

Translated from Spanish: Good Morning, my princess. We're going shopping this afternoon.

 

[Laverna]

Laverna groaned; her day off apparently included a shopping trip. Carmen had been hinting at wanting to buy Laverna some cowgirl boots.





She sighed as she finished her apple, tossing the core across the room, where it landed neatly in the trash can with a satisfying thud. Glancing down at her ensemble—pajama shorts peeking out from under an oversized T-shirt—she felt a twinge of regret. Maybe this outfit wasn't quite right for a shopping trip with her rich, classy godmother. With a resigned huff, she made her way to the closet, determined to find something more fitting for the afternoon ahead.





Laverna stood in front of her closet, her fingers trailing over the fabrics before she settled on a light gray T-shirt with a glittery eagle design. Glitter wasn’t her thing—in fact, she hated it—but the shirt had a certain appeal, just stylish enough to pass in public. She grabbed a pair of ripped blue jeans, comfortable and worn in all the right places, and slipped into her light pink ballet flats. Finally, she reached for her amber beaded necklace, its soft glow adding a touch of elegance to her casual look. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was enough to get her through the day.





That afternoon, everything went smoothly. Laverna managed to stay composed, but every now and then, she found herself jumping at the sight of security guards, instinctively nervous. Carmen, ever the composed queen of crime, found it amusing and chuckled at her goddaughter’s jumpiness.





"Relax, kid," Carmen teased, her laugh echoing through the store. Despite the tension Laverna felt, the day passed without a hitch, leaving her relieved—and maybe a bit embarrassed—by the end of it.

 

[Laverna]

Laverna couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling as she returned to the hospital. She wasn’t sick—certainly not with cancer or anything—but there was something off about being back. Her room was sterile and cold, the only signs of life being the few personal items and gifts Carmen had carefully placed for appearances.





The windows were sealed shut. The blinds, controlled only by a discreet button, made sure no one could peek in—or out.








Her partner in crime, Devlin, lived in the facility too, but his room was oddly more comfortable. His walls were painted a deep navy, and a small grey shag rug softened the cold floor. Unlike hers, his windows actually opened.





He once told her that Carmen probably didn’t have another open bedroom in the residential wing of the "hospital." Laverna used to believe that without a second thought—before she started noticing the subtle differences that didn't quite make sense.





.


She placed her new red cowgirl boots in the closet, their box sitting empty on the floor. The closet doors, made of two full-length mirrors, were decorated with funny stickers and colorful washi tape, reflecting her personality.





Laverna tidied up her belongings, hanging the new red slip dress that reminded hof a bandana. With a swift toss, she aimed the black cowgirl hat at the upper shelf, relieved when it landed without falling—just lucky this time.





“Of course we had to go to Texas to shop and not a tienda de ropa on this side of the frontera,” she muttered, shaking her head as she admired her new purchases.





She wished her godmother was normal, but her own parents had been unusual criminals too. Memories of her father stealing peacocks from the zoo for the sheer thrill of it lingered in her mind, a strange blend of pride and disbelief.





At just eight years old, she had no idea that the Saylor family was a feared mafia. To her, her father’s antics felt like thrilling adventures rather than glimpses into a dangerous world. She remembered the excitement of that day vividly—how he had coaxed her into the backseat, promising an adventure as he drove to the zoo. The thrill of stealing peacocks, vibrant and majestic, had filled her with awe. It was only later, as she grew older, that she began to understand the darkness that lurked behind those seemingly innocent escapades.

 

[Laverna]

She remembered her mother, but the details were vague, her face an elusive blur in her mind. Perhaps it was because her mother had always kept her at arm’s length, emotionally distant, and 99 percent of the time, completely absent. Yet, there were fragments—fleeting memories she clung to. She was almost certain she remembered her mother’s curled, chin-length bleached blonde hair and those cold, unfeeling grey eyes that seemed to watch her from a distance, never really seeing her.





Her father was a player, always chasing after young women and tempting fate. With his brown hair slicked back in gelled curls, a mustache, and those striking green eyes Laverna had inherited, he had a way of charming people without effort. But he was never around. When he did appear, it was always for some silly quest he wanted his three kids to join him on, making it feel more like they were sidekicks in his adventures than his family.





She remembered her eldest brother, Charles—a real serial killer in the making. The nannies who came and went through her childhood had dubbed him "Manson," a nickname that stuck for good reason. With his short blackish hair, cold grey eyes, and unsettling, silent demeanor, Charles was the embodiment of something dangerous. He lacked any sense of remorse. Once, he had held a lit match to baby Charlene’s face, burning the tip of her nose. Laverna still bore the marks from that day, her nose never fully healing. If Charles were still alive, he would be in his mid-twenties now, but she felt a strange relief that he wasn’t.





Her sister Annalise, three years her senior, had long curly locks and piercing green eyes. Unlike Laverna, Annalise cared deeply about appearances and status, often consumed by the pursuit of designer fashion. Her hair was bleached, which led Laverna to assume their mother must have been a bleached blonde too. Annalise wasn’t cruel, just preoccupied, always chasing the next luxury item. Sometimes, Laverna wondered what her sister’s favorite brand would be if she were still alive, imagining her sifting through the latest collections with that same meticulous care.





Laverna recalled feeling unseen and unheard, though she wasn’t abused—outside of Charles, at least—and she definitely didn’t grow up without a silver spoon in her mouth. Her early years had been cushioned by privilege, almost spoiled, where she was coddled and indulged. But everything changed when Carmen entered the picture. Unlike her previous life of luxury, Carmen raised her in a way that was far more rugged and less royal, stripping away the comforts she had once known and preparing her for a different kind of world.





But Carmen had explained it to her with calm wisdom. “If you get arrested and I can’t rescue you immediately, you’ll have to handle unseasoned foods and drab situations where boredom will be your only companion. But I won’t torture you or make you suffer. Life is the best teacher, and I will not interfere with its lessons. It’s important to learn from your experiences, even the hard ones. Embrace them, and you’ll come out stronger on the other side.”





Once the doll of her late family, Laverna now slipped into a lukewarm bath, letting the warm water soothe her. After her bath, she dressed in the light orange nightgown she had worn the night before,


She laid down on her memory foam twin-size mattress—the nicest piece of furniture in the room—feeling the gentle contours cradle her.

 

[Laverna]

Laverna's short hair gently swirled around the pillow as she settled in, the lights dimming automatically, sensing she was ready for bed. Despite the room’s stark resemblance to a prison cell, Carmen had subtly tucked a few luxuries into the space. The dimming lights were one of those comforts—a small reminder that, even in this controlled environment, Carmen hadn’t stripped away every bit of indulgence. But it was still far from the cozy, carefree bedroom of a typical teenager.

 

[Laverna]

Chapter: Handle her or handler?





It was another work day. Laverna dressed in her usual suit—black and white, with a waistcoat and matching black tie. The only splashes of color came from her bold red lipstick and her piercing green eyes. After lacing up her shoes, she headed to the digital meeting room where assignments were distributed via numbers on a large screen.





Carmen had already left for her heist in Madagascar at two in the morning, but that didn’t mean the rest of the team could slack off. Laverna scanned the board for her number, 84701, while knowing Devlin’s was right beside hers: 84700.





VILE’s very own Bonnie and Clyde—Laverna and Devlin—had been assigned what seemed like a routine caper: stealing an unremarkable Aztec coin from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.





“Too easy,” Laverna muttered under her breath as she made her way over to Devlin, who wasn’t even paying attention to the assignments. She couldn’t blame him; he was a chemist at heart, not an outlaw. The thrill of planning heists wasn’t what stirred his passion, and she could see it in his distracted gaze.





“Sugar, we’re working together as usual. Looks like when Carmen gets back, she’ll go over our assignment,” Laverna greeted, a playful smirk on her face as she pinned Devlin against the wall. She was small enough that he could easily push her back, but instead, he slid down to his knees slightly, meeting her eye level.





They didn’t care who was watching; in that moment, the world around them faded away, and their lips met in a brief, sweet kiss.





Laverna grabbed Devlin by the sleeve of his navy blue shirt and tugged him back into her room. To the unknowing eye, it might have looked like she was trying to initiate a mating dance, her movements playful and inviting.





“I can’t reach the hat. Can you get it down for me?” she asked, pointing to the upper shelf where her black cowgirl hat sat just out of reach. She demonstrated her inability to grasp it, stretching on her tiptoes and failing to get even close, her frustration mingling with a hint of amusement.





Devlin shrugged and reached up, pulling the hat down from the shelf and placing it on the tiny outlaw’s head. Laverna pretended to be disappointed, pouting dramatically.





“Thanks, I guess,” she groaned, accompanied by a fake snarl that sent Devlin into fits of laughter. He nearly lost his balance, the sight of her mock frustration paired with the oversized hat perched on her head proving too much for him to handle.





He grabbed her gently and turned her head to the side, unable to resist kissing her neck. Laverna struggled at first, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy, but as his warm breath brushed against her skin, she slowly relaxed into his arms. The playful tension melted away, leaving only the warmth of their connection as she leaned into him, surrendering to the moment.





“I can tame the fierce Chihuahua, oh dear,” Devlin teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he effortlessly picked Laverna up as if she weighed nothing. She laughed, feigning indignation, but deep down, she loved the playful banter and the way he made her feel light and free in his arms.





He set her back down on the floor, casually checking his smartwatch. But instead of his vitals, the screen displayed someone else's readings under the number 84701. He quickly concealed the information beneath the shadow of his palm, making sure Laverna couldn’t catch a glimpse. A satisfied smile crept onto his face as he pretended to check the time, though his eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place. “It’s nearly lunchtime; maybe they’re serving lunch now,” he remarked, his tone casual, but there was an edge of tension that lingered just below the surface.





He carefully escorted her out of her room, softly closing the bedroom door behind them. It didn’t make a sound, the hinges silent as they stepped into the hallway. Their shoes squeaked on the freshly waxed cream-colored tiles as he guided her toward the cafeteria.





At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. Yet Laverna couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a friendly gesture. She could easily make it there on her own without his hand resting on the small of her back, a touch that felt more possessive than protective. The corridor stretched ahead of them, and as they walked, she sensed a tension lingering in the air—something unspoken that made her pause.





She didn’t question it, allowing herself to entertain the possibility that there were recruits—fresh faces vying for one of those rare interviews to work under Carmen. People who hadn’t been vetted for more heinous crimes, perhaps desperate to prove themselves.





As they walked, Laverna couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe there was a construction that had sprouted overnight around the Marie Curie Research Institute. The atmosphere felt charged, as if things were evolving behind the scenes, shifting in ways she couldn’t quite see. The sense of change hung in the air, and while she pushed it aside, a nagging instinct warned her to stay alert.





Once they stepped inside the cafeteria together, Laverna found Devlin waiting for her with a plastic tray in hand. “I’m paying for your lunch—my treat,” he chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. He realized that Laverna usually stole her food, likely for the thrill of it, and he couldn't help but wonder if Carmen was giving her some sort of allowance or if she had to find other ways to get by.





Devlin couldn’t resist ribbing her a little. “Just this once, try not to lift anything from the cafeteria, okay?” He grinned as he gestured toward the food line, eager to serve her but unable to hide his impatience.





She allowed her plate to be filled with crispy fried fish filets, perfectly coated in a crunchy panko crust, alongside a generous serving of sweet potato fries. Laverna picked a strawberry probiotic yogurt and a side salad, drenching it in balsamic vinaigrette. After filling a small cup with buttermilk ranch, she felt a small thrill of satisfaction.





Devlin mirrored her choices, loading his plate with the same fish and fries but adding a side of coleslaw and a slice of pecan pie. He filled a small cup with ketchup and, as they walked toward a table in the far corner, Laverna blurted out, “Carmen supplies the ketchup that has veggies hidden in it.”





“Really?” Devlin asked, intrigued, as they made their way to the table bathed in the vibrant red light from the massive stained glass window. The colorful illumination added an almost surreal ambiance to the bustling cafeteria.





Laverna loved fish—any kind, really—so it wasn’t long before she tore a piece apart with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. “They’re so good,” she smiled, savoring the flavor as she dipped a fry into the ranch and followed it up with another bite.





Devlin observed the fancier selections on Laverna's plate, an eyebrow raised in mild judgment. What sixteen-year-old girl opts for balsamic vinaigrette over ranch on her salad while dipping her fries in ranch, no less? And a strawberry probiotic yogurt instead of a slice of the thick, layered icing on the world-famous chocolate chip cake?





He shook his head slightly, bemused. It had to be her upbringing. Coming from a more traditional criminal family probably shaped her tastes in ways that seemed both curious and a bit naïve to him.





She sipped on an iced unsweetened tea while he enjoyed a Pepsi, the fizzy drink contrasting sharply with her choice. Devlin found himself glancing at her chest, unable to help it, though she remained completely oblivious to his gaze and the flatness beneath her shirt. He shook his head internally, reminding himself to focus on their conversation rather than the thoughts that crept in uninvited.





He didn't hate her look; in fact, he appreciated her unique style. That tight waistcoat accentuated her small waist, but it also gave off a more androgynous vibe. Devlin found himself drawn to her confidence and the way she carried herself, completely unbothered by traditional expectations of femininity. He admired how she made the 1930s men’s suit her own, even if he sometimes caught himself staring at her chest when she wasn’t looking.








She might have looked like a helpless baby to Carmen, but to Devlin, Laverna was a tempting devil, full of mischief and allure. He found himself drawn to her in a way that made his heart race, every glance and every smile igniting a spark that made him crave her lips against his.





She was small, practically pocket-sized, barely reaching the lower section of his ribcage. Her raven locks seemed to glow in the sunlight streaming through the window, casting a halo around her. Each movement she made was a blend of grace and mischief, drawing his gaze like a magnet and making her all the more irresistible.





“What did you have for breakfast? I have to report what you ate today to the boss. I don’t even understand why,” he groaned, rambling a bit too much. His face flushed a shade of red when Laverna looked up at him and bit her lip.





“I had a mocha with oat milk, a piece of toast with hazelnut spread, and a banana,” she said with a playful smile and a wink.





Devlin could tell she was lying; he knew she probably only managed to grab a banana if she was lucky. Breakfast was always a meal Laverna skipped, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and concern at her feigned innocence.





And so, their day went on with Devlin asking Laverna questions about what she had eaten, whether she had brushed her hair and other ridiculous nonsense.





Laverna stopped on her heels, the sound of her shoes squeaking against the polished floor echoing in the hallway. She turned to face him, her expression a mix of annoyance and determination. “Did my godmother think I wouldn’t notice the nature of these questions? Babe, I’m only answering because I don’t want her to replace my handler with someone I loathe. But you have to realize she’s too controlling,” Laverna exclaimed, her voice rising slightly as she pressed her body weight against her elbow, resting it against the wall with an air of defiance.





“She acts like you’re a pet,” Devlin laughed, the sound light and teasing. Laverna, determined to keep her balance, stood on one leg as she took the painting off the wall, resting it against her knee.





“Correction, zoo animal,” she grumbled, her fingers gliding across the painting of a serene lake rendered in soft pastel colors. The artwork felt familiar yet distant, a reminder of a world outside the confines of their unusual lives.





Devlin occasionally tapped away at his watch, swiping away notifications with a casual flick of his wrist, reminiscent of Carmen and the tablet she always seemed to carry. It was a small detail, but it nagged at Laverna's mind. Was he taking notes on her? Was Carmen somehow involved in this conversation, even if only indirectly? Each tap echoed her feelings of being monitored, even amid their playful banter.





“Want to help me in the lab, or do you want to do your own thing?” Devlin asked, barely looking up as he read the vitals on his watch again.





Laverna considered it for a moment. The lab could be fun, but she craved some alone time in the courtyard. With Carmen set to return that evening, she wanted to enjoy the brief freedom before the usual routine kicked back in. “I think I’ll just chill outside for a bit,” she replied, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of a quiet escape.

 

[Laverna]

Chapter: Meeting with a red coated diva





Carmen returned an hour ahead of schedule, wrapping up her latest heist with precision. The early arrival wasn’t what caught her attention—it was seeing Laverna in the courtyard, quietly admiring a cactus flower, oblivious to the roaring blades of the helicopter descending above her.





From her vantage point, Carmen's sharp eyes scanned the thorny plants and the girl was lost in thought, unaware of her return. A fleeting thought crossed her mind about when the desert greenery was last watered—something to address later. For now, she let Laverna linger in her quiet refuge.





Carmen mused, silently calculating. What had driven Laverna here? What was it about the thorns and desolation that drew her goddaughter’s gaze today?





Laverna finally rose from her spot, brushing the dust off her pants as she made her way back inside. Spotting Devlin in the distance, she couldn't help but break into a small smile before practically leaping into his arms. With a familiar ease, he caught her mid-air and carried her inside, the pair moving in perfect sync as if the world outside their bubble didn’t exist.





Carmen made her way to her office and living quarters, the quiet hum of the building filling the air as the setting sun bathed everything in a warm, coppery glow. She knew Laverna and Devlin would be coming to meet her soon, likely within the hour. Until then, she relished the rare moment of peace, the shadows growing long across the room as she mentally prepared for whatever the night would bring.





Henchmen hovered cautiously by her sides as she surveyed them. No injuries, no visible signs of illness, and they were well-groomed and presentable. It reminded her of the early days of V.I.L.E. in the early ‘90s—back then, her henchmen seemed to lack something, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what. Maybe it was her who had been lacking, but she would never admit that out loud.





As she passed the research lab, she noticed Ginger and her adoptive mother, Sara Bellum, engrossed in their work, not acknowledging her as she lingered by the window. They were performing an autopsy on a bat that had, as Carmen recalled, mysteriously died after breaking into the facility's training area.





Finally, Carmen arrived at her office, eager to conduct the upcoming meeting. She longed for a French lavender milk bath in her warm, bubbling spa tub afterward, wishing to wash her worries down the drain so she could focus on her latest evil scheme. She needed to pilfer a series of ancient coins for her new machine, which could increase the value of any object placed under its warm glow.





Her former colleagues at ACME would have dismissed this plan as “cartoon villainy,” trying to make her see how absurd it sounded.





“They said that when I jokingly told them I wanted to recreate the Tower of Babel," Carmen chuckled to herself. "They found it so amusing that they turned it into a computer game to teach kids grammar. I wasn’t amused.”





With a smile, she clicked on her computer and poked Chief, who yelped all the way in San Francisco while Carmen remained in Mexico.





“A Facebook poke, for my oldest friend,” she laughed as Laverna and Devlin finally entered the office.





Devlin had no idea about Chief’s poke button, nor did he know who or what Chief was. He couldn't grasp why Carmen wore that wicked smile on her ruby lips.





From his perspective, it seemed like Carmen was laughing at him or Laverna. The brim of her hat cast a shadow over her eyes, obscuring any hint of her true feelings.





To him, Carmen was intimidating, especially without any context for her actions. Yet, Carmen relished this effect she had on others, enjoying the power it gave her.





Carmen tilted her hat back, revealing her face, and noticed Devlin looked like he was about to faint. “Relax, I was tormenting someone else,” she teased.





Laverna nearly doubled over laughing, particularly when she spotted the spider on Carmen's hat, strutting along the brim as if it owned the place.





Carmen raised an eyebrow and removed her hat, frowning at the red-kneed tarantula, which was big enough to resemble a bow perched on the edge of her hat. “Oh, a hitchhiker,” Carmen said with a smile, placing her crimson hat on the desk.





It wasn’t long before the meeting began to discuss the heist plan, scheduled for approximately three days from now. Carmen warned Laverna that she couldn’t afford to go sightseeing during the operation, but she promised that one day, she would take Laverna to New York City to explore the museums and boutiques.





“Please don’t linger and keep your faces obscure,” Carmen warned, her voice low and edged with authority. “I shouldn’t be working with kids like you; you know how the media loves to dramatize things.”





Yet, beneath her stern demeanor, she couldn't help but ponder how ACME managed to keep teenagers in their ranks. Why hadn’t the media ever called that out? Did ACME have the power to pay off the press to cover their tracks? These questions had lingered in her mind since her own days at the organization, when she was a teenage detective navigating a world of shadows and secrets, keenly aware of how easily perceptions could be manipulated.





Laverna bravely picked up the spider, causing Devlin to flinch. That answered one question: he was terrified of the five-inch, eight-legged creature now crawling along Laverna’s arm. She grinned, reveling in his discomfort as she casually let the tarantula explore her skin, a mischievous spark in her eyes.





Carmen shook her head, a bemused smile crossing her lips. “What a partner,” she chuckled, watching Laverna gleefully attempt to place the creature on her frightened boyfriend. Devlin's eyes widened in panic as he instinctively recoiled, but Laverna’s mischievous determination only seemed to grow, making the scene all the more entertaining for Carmen.

 

[Laverna]

She laughed, her voice ringing with amusement as she instructed Devlin, “Run, Devil, run!” The taunt made him realize that Laverna wouldn’t stop until she either caught him or he vanished from sight. Panic surged through him, and he dashed away, glancing over his shoulder as Laverna pursued him with a wicked grin, the spider still poised for mischief.





“Well, those two are something,” Carmen muttered, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and exasperation as the meeting wrapped up. She turned away from the lingering laughter, making her way to her secret sleeping chambers concealed behind a hidden door disguised as a bookshelf. Once inside, she could finally gather her thoughts, allowing herself a moment of quiet after the chaos of the day.





Chapter: Departure





Devlin was surprisingly happy two days later, his custom small red truck nestled safely in the belly of the private jet. That truck was like his baby, working wonders on short, tight turns, and the eighteen-year-old couldn’t help but bounce in his brown leather boots with excitement.





Laverna crawled into the co-pilot seat next to Carmen, who was focused on the task at hand, her brow furrowed in concentration as she guided the plane down the runway. The engines roared to life, and as they took off into the sky, the hum drowned out any chatter, creating a cocoon of anticipation.





Carmen felt a thrill of confidence. The heist was just hours away, and in her mind, everything would go perfectly as it always did. She relished the thought; after all, Carmen Sandiego had a reputation for making the impossible possible.





As they ascended, she glanced out the window, noting the clear blue sky ahead. “Another smooth flight,” she remarked, allowing a satisfied smile to tug at the corners of her lips.





“Yeah, I can’t wait to hit the ground running!” Devlin replied, still brimming with enthusiasm.





“Just remember to stick to the plan,” Carmen said, her tone light yet firm. “We’ve got this.”





Laverna leaned back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What could possibly go wrong?”





Carmen chuckled, the unease she felt earlier fading as she dismissed the thought. After all, heists always went right for her, and this one would be no different. Little did they know, a storm was brewing on the horizon, but for now, their spirits remained high as they flew toward their next adventure.





They landed at a private airport, the engines of the jet winding down as Carmen expertly guided it into the hangar. Once parked, she helped unload the truck and ushered the kids out. This heist was a solo operation, meaning Carmen would be assisting via communicators while trusting them to get the job done on their own.





She gave them a once-over, checking that they were ready. “Be safe out there,” Carmen said, her tone reassuring. “Everything will be alright. You’re good teenagers; nothing will happen in Crime City.”





With a final nod, she watched as they hopped into the truck, excitement buzzing between them. Laverna grinned at Devlin as they set off for the Met Museum, her spirit high as they headed into their adventure.





Carmen took the jet into the private hangar, confident in her young protégés’ abilities. She settled into her own tasks, knowing they were capable and the plan was foolproof.





Hours passed smoothly, and the heist unfolded without a hitch—at least until about six hours in, when Carmen’s health monitor suddenly flashed alerts. She frowned at the screen, noticing it indicated abnormal stress levels for Laverna, caused by confusion, running, and strain.





“Laverna, what’s going on?” Carmen’s voice crackled through the communicator, a hint of concern threading through her words. “Talk to me.”





Silence stretched on the other end, and Carmen’s heart quickened. She tapped her fingers against the console, hoping for a response.





Got it! Here’s the revised passage with your request:





---





“Oh, ouch,” Carmen voiced as she glanced at the next warning on her tablet. A spike in Laverna's health monitor had set off alarms, indicating a concerning level of strain. She quickly closed the tablet, already bracing herself for the incoming emergency.





Meanwhile, from Laverna and Devlin’s point of view…

 

[Laverna]

Chapter: snap

Laverna’s breath came in ragged gasps as she sprinted down the narrow streets, her hand clutching the tiny artifact—a coin no larger than a quarter, its surface gleaming with ancient inscriptions. It felt heavy with history and danger, even though it was so small. Beside her, Devlin’s hand gripped hers tightly, pulling her along as the shouts of the ACME Detective Agency agents echoed behind them.





“Left! We need to go left!” Devlin urged, but in the confusion, they took a wrong turn.





“Devlin, wait!” she hissed, but it was too late. Ahead of them loomed a brick wall, the alley shrinking into a dead end. Panic spiked through her. The agents were closing in.





“We’re going over,” Devlin decided, yanking her toward the wall.





Her legs burned, but there was no time to think. They scrambled up and over the low wall, landing hard on the other side in a shadowy alley. As Laverna hit the ground, her foot twisted awkwardly beneath her, and her knee gave out. She heard a sharp, sickening crack and knew something had gone terribly wrong.





Pain shot through her leg like wildfire, but she swallowed her cry, biting her lip until she tasted blood. They didn’t have time for this.





Devlin tugged her up, oblivious to her injury. “Come on!”





Every step felt like fire stabbing through her knee, but she pushed forward, limping beside him. The tiny coin clinked softly in her hand, a sharp reminder of the mission. If they got caught now, the artifact—and everything they had sacrificed for it—would be lost.





They stumbled to Devlin’s red truck, Laverna practically collapsing into the passenger seat. Her vision blurred from the pain as she fumbled with the glove compartment, placing the coin inside with trembling hands.





“You good?” Devlin asked, his voice rough with urgency.





“Yeah,” she forced out, though her knee throbbed like it was on fire. "Go."





With a screech of tires, they peeled out of the alley, disappearing into the night, the ancient coin safely hidden—but Laverna knew her injury might be harder to hide for long.





The drive back to one of VILE's hidden headquarters felt like a blur to Laverna, her knee screaming in protest with every bump in the road. She kept her face expressionless, though her mind was spinning. The pain was unbearable, but the thought of showing weakness in front of Devlin—or worse, Carmen Sandiego—made her stomach twist.





They pulled into a dimly lit underground garage beneath the headquarters. As the truck idled, Devlin cut the engine and glanced over at her. “You coming?”





Laverna shook her head. “I’ll stay here. Need a minute.”





Devlin’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push. “Alright. I’ll be quick.” He reached into the glove compartment, pulling out the tiny Aztec coin. The thing looked so small, so insignificant in his palm, yet it held the weight of centuries, the key to some grand scheme only Carmen fully understood.





With a nod, Devlin slipped out of the truck and strode toward the building’s entrance, the coin safely tucked into his jacket. Laverna watched him go, her heart pounding despite the stillness. She trusted him to hand the artifact over, but a part of her was glad to stay behind. She wasn’t sure she could face Carmen like this—injured, vulnerable.





The garage was quiet now, the sound of Devlin’s footsteps fading into the distance. Laverna leaned her head back against the seat, finally letting out a shaky breath. She pressed her hand gently to her swollen knee, wincing as pain flared up again. This was bad—worse than she’d let on. But what could she do? The mission was done, and Carmen would expect her back in action soon.





She closed her eyes, trying to block out the pain, trying to steel herself for whatever was coming next.





As Laverna sat in the truck, eyes closed and battling the pain in her knee, she didn’t notice the figure watching her from the shadows of the garage. One of VILE’s nameless henchmen lingered by the entrance, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he studied her. He’d been assigned to keep an eye on things down here, but Laverna’s pale face and the way she cradled her leg had him on edge.





Fidgeting with his phone, he typed a quick message to Carmen: *Laverna looks bad. She’s injured, staying in the truck. Should I get help?*





He hit send, half expecting Carmen to be too busy to reply right away. But within seconds, his phone buzzed. Carmen's response appeared on the screen: *I know. She's injured. When Devlin is done with my meeting, have him take her to the medical clinic. Her readings don’t look well.*





The henchman swallowed hard, glancing back at Laverna, who still hadn’t moved. So, Carmen was already aware—of course she was. Carmen Sandiego knew everything that went on with her crew, down to the finest detail. He didn’t question how she had access to Laverna’s vital signs; it was just another layer of the genius that kept them all alive and one step ahead of ACME.





His job was clear now. He tucked his phone away, leaning against the wall to wait. Devlin would be back soon, and then they could get Laverna to the clinic. In the meantime, all he could do was watch and make sure nothing else went wrong.