Disclaimed this has been.
Day 1, Part 1: Lie, Be Spontaneous, and Spike the Punch
"A dance?"
Okay, so Artemis wasn't even sure why she'd done it. She didn't even want to go to the stupid thing, so why'd she ask? In the back of her mind, she knew it was a test. An idiotic one, but a test nonetheless. Her father was always testing her, pushing her. She wanted to know what he'd say about her doing something that didn't involve dismembering people. Or beating them senseless. Or blackmailing them. Or poisoning, stabbing, shooting, and/or stealing. After a while, it did get kind of boring.
So she'd asked.
She didn't actually want to go. I mean, who would. Unless, and she couldn't suppress the thought, she laced the punch with Botulinum toxin and watched the gyrating teenagers on the dance floor go slack, heavily made-up faces first, and collapse paralyzed onto the dance floor until they went into respiratory distress and died. Not very subtle, but undeniably appealing.
"A dance? I see no need for you to mingle with your lessers, Artemis. You are named for a Goddess of warfare. This is just another example of one of societies pointless institutions in order to propagate the preferable asininity and ineptitude in the consumers of tomorrow..."
Which meant no. Which meant she wasn't allowed. And no matter how many times Artemis told herself she didn't want to go watch people gyrate, (Really, watching your ass-fat bounce up and down is in no way appealing, people) she felt annoyed. Just a little bit pissed.
She was supposed to rule a criminal empire, and she wasn't 'allowed' to go to a highschool dance? Not 'allowed'? Her hand itched for her dagger.
Not allowed?
She didn't want to go, but still...
"...So obviously, no daughter of mine would mingle with such primitive ingrates?"
Artemis felt a mask of a smile slide over her face as she did what she did best at that moment.
...Lied...
A frown slid over Artemis' face as she looked in the mirror. Okay, so she didn't want to go to the dance, just sneak in, poison the punch, and sneak out before her father knew she was gone. But it was a job, and she could wear Ches' old leather cat suit. It wasn't a dress, but it did cling in all the right... Artemis shook her head. This was idiocy! No one should see her anyways! In and out. Just another job.
She slid into the cat suit, the leather cold against her bare skin. She glanced in the mirror. Slanted cerulean eyes contrasted greatly against her bloodless face. Long blond hair brushed against her muscular shoulders. She could be pretty. For a moment, she imagined it, but then her eyes were drawn to the darkness of her bruised cheekbone, the scar that split the corner of her eye, a gift from an old friend of her father. She zipped the suit up, and pulled her hair back, reaching back into Ches' drawer where she got the catsuit and grabbing a tube of lipstick. She applied the blood-red lipstick with a smile. Kill them all? She had a better idea.
There was one thing she had learned in that school, surrounded by those idiots. Math.
Alcohol + Teenagers= insanity
insanity + video = blackmail
...Be Spontaneous and Spike the Punch...
