Heather embraced the term 'street art'. What she did was art, graffiti not limited to gang signs and territory marking. All Sothe wanted from her was to mark drop spots for the drugs he ran, but Heather added her own flair. Where one person might make a small mark or codeword to signify it, Heather painted a cityscape.
As far as the cops were concerned, she was a vandal with talent. People in the city enjoyed her work, but authorities wouldn't hesitate to lock her up. After all, what she did was illegal.
Sothe payed her, not well, but payed her all the same despite the liberties she took. Cops didn't tend to look for drop points under what the public thought of as murals, after all.
Despite what she was about to do being just as illegal as anything else, Heather felt nervous. The letter had dictated a time and location. So at midnight, Heather was crouched in some bushes with a bag of cans. With the design already drawn out, she didn't need to bring her usual array of colors. Just those required.
Her canvas was a wall in the city's most well-known park: Delbray Park. Whoever-the-fuck Delbray must have given the crown a shitload of money to get such a nice park named after him.
At this time of night, not many people walked about. She didn't need long to do the job, but still she delayed.
"C'mon, Heather. One hundred thousand," she breathed. Her hood came over her head, blocking out the yellow hair that would make her memorable. She walked out of the bushes, casting a cursory glance around to search for witnesses.
No one.
Breathing deeply, Heather reached into her bag and pulled out brown. Brown for the dead tree. She set to work, mind closing off the rest of the world for several minutes.
Heather's hand slammed down on the alarm she'd forgotten to shut off after she'd returned home. Groaning, she rolled in her bed, spitting strands of hair from her mouth.
Then she remembered.
More awake, Heather walked to her old laptop without even pausing to put clothes on. The cold nipped at her, but she pushed the feeling aside.
The laptop's slow power-on sequence had never bothered her before, but now it was agony. She bit her lip, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table.
Ding! Success! Light came to the screen and Heather's trembling fingers shot across the keyboard. A news website came up.
"—more bold than before. The graffitist defaced part of Delbray Park. Now, this matches the style of whoever has been creating these admittedly charming acts of vandalism." Across the screen flashed several of her previous works, each vibrant and full of color depicting everything from simple things like flowers to visages of historical figures. "One police officer commented that graffitists don't usually go as public as this and that they have no suspects at the moment, but do believe all these works to be of the same hand—"
Heather sighed, a nervous chuckle wracking her body. No one had seen her. It was a relief to confirm. The lack of sleep began to hit her as she stifled a yawn.
"—the image itself has raised some reactions. Social media posts across Crimea are championing the art, criticizing Queen Elincia's reign. Several officials have come forward to condemn the message, most notably Geoffrey Delbray. Still no statement has come from Queen Elincia herself, though we expect one in the next few hours. Make sure to tune in to our interview with Geoffrey Delbray coming up—"
Heather closed the webpage. She opened up her messaging application.
Yellow: im bored pay attention to me
There was no response for ten minutes. Just as Heather was ready to give up, Blue replied.
Blue: Don't think I can for long, things are pretty hectic on my end.
Yellow: why?
Blue: My job. This graffiti news story has thrown work into chaos.
"Fuck," Heather mumbled. Blue worked in the government. Heather was responsible for ruining her day.
Yellow: will it cheer you up to know that i finally got paid? date time, babe
Blue: You don't mean today, do you?
Yellow: of course not. when works for you?
Blue: Three days from now? That work for you?
Yellow: anything you say works for me
Blue: You're incorrigible. I'll talk to you later.
Yellow: cant wait
She shut the lid of her laptop as a knock pounded on her door. Her head turned to the door and then looked down at her naked body.
"Shit."
The knocking grew more frequent as Heather finally reached the door, a shirt on that ran down to her thighs. She opened the door mid-knock.
It was a man she'd never seen before. He looked impatient as he pressed a bag in her hands before turning and walking down the stairs back towards the ground floor.
One peek inside told her what it was. Her payment. A grin spread across her face as she picked up a few pieces of gold.
This would do nicely. Now she really could take Blue out on a date.
Inside her apartment, life was good. Outside, Melior pulsed with the anger of its denizens, the pressure building.