Post by cutiepuppyfire on Oct 10, 2016 0:03:25 GMT
“Hey! That’s my soda!” Someone from the rear end of the group shouted and waved her hands in attempt to gain the attention of the girls in front. “Tell someone up there that someone stole my fucking can of Coke!”
“You’re just gonna go steal another one, Tori,” a bespectacled girl a little ways behind her retorted then went back to minding her own business.
“No one was going to ask you, Amelia.” Tori, christened so due to Tourette’s syndrome, yelled back, “I’d prefer it if someone important was to tell me about my problems, thank you very much.”
“Like Skits perhaps with her having to consult three invisible men or, better yet, Miss Cinch. Would that be better for you?”
“Of course that would make things better, Sugar…” The leader of the pack’s lavender contact lenses stared into Amelia’s with a false sense of lulling security. At the drop of a dime, her mood changed into something that Gunnery Sergeant Hartman would spout, “IF YOU WOULD WANT TO GET US IN MORE TROUBLE THAN WE ALREADY ARE IN!!!”
“Sour Sweet, be quiet. I already ensured that Cinch’s security alarm wouldn’t go off hours ago, but it’s not like you’d care.” The rest of the group glanced back at her.
“I DO CARE! Since I’m a leader and Cinch is practically our mother.” Tori (Real name: Allison Victoria Flare) shouted again and flipped part of her short, purple bob.
“Shut up, Allison.” Sour Sweet (Real name: Sharen) chided, “I’m the one in charge here. You would be in charge, but you’re related to her.”
“You know, technically, I should be running this heist since I’m the oldest of the group, right?”
“That would be the case, but you don’t actually do anything.” insulted a girl with messy, cobalt blue hair and a steampunkish pair of orange goggles.
“If you think I don’t do anything for the Shadows, then go to hell, Zap!”
“Don’t say that. We just came from there.” Zap, named after her experiences with shock therapy one too many times, responded as she pointed out their next place to rob. “There it is, girls!”
“What are we talking about, exactly?” A lady wearing headphones perked up from the top of the group.
“Don’t worry, Lemon.” Sugarcoat answered as she pulled out a small laptop and hid behind a bush. The rest of the Shadows surrounded her as they stared at the screen as a wall of codes and technical gobbledygook. “I’ve got this.” After two hours, the Shadows minus Sugarcoat filed their way back towards their domicile. “Well, thanks for staying with me, girls…” She sighed and continued to hack into the security system of the nearby museum.
The screen read Amelia’s two favorite words: ACCESS GRANTED, but afterward, there was a message that she didn’t expect. “WELCOME TO THE FILES OF FLINT LOCKWOOD.” At the sight of the flashing dispatch, she slammed her monitor shut, slipped the laptop back into its case, and ran back to Cinch’s place.
The next day, when Sugarcoat opened her computer, a set of coordinates appeared on the screen with a message. “CONGRATULATIONS. I DON’T THINK I’VE HAD ANYONE GET INTO ANY OF MY COMPUTERS BEFORE. FOLLOW THE COORDINATES ON THE SCREEN AND I’LL UNLOCK YOUR COMPUTER. YOU’VE GOT MASSIVE TALENT. WELCOME TO LEVERAGE. - FLINT LOCKWOOD.”
“You’re just gonna go steal another one, Tori,” a bespectacled girl a little ways behind her retorted then went back to minding her own business.
“No one was going to ask you, Amelia.” Tori, christened so due to Tourette’s syndrome, yelled back, “I’d prefer it if someone important was to tell me about my problems, thank you very much.”
“Like Skits perhaps with her having to consult three invisible men or, better yet, Miss Cinch. Would that be better for you?”
“Of course that would make things better, Sugar…” The leader of the pack’s lavender contact lenses stared into Amelia’s with a false sense of lulling security. At the drop of a dime, her mood changed into something that Gunnery Sergeant Hartman would spout, “IF YOU WOULD WANT TO GET US IN MORE TROUBLE THAN WE ALREADY ARE IN!!!”
“Sour Sweet, be quiet. I already ensured that Cinch’s security alarm wouldn’t go off hours ago, but it’s not like you’d care.” The rest of the group glanced back at her.
“I DO CARE! Since I’m a leader and Cinch is practically our mother.” Tori (Real name: Allison Victoria Flare) shouted again and flipped part of her short, purple bob.
“Shut up, Allison.” Sour Sweet (Real name: Sharen) chided, “I’m the one in charge here. You would be in charge, but you’re related to her.”
“You know, technically, I should be running this heist since I’m the oldest of the group, right?”
“That would be the case, but you don’t actually do anything.” insulted a girl with messy, cobalt blue hair and a steampunkish pair of orange goggles.
“If you think I don’t do anything for the Shadows, then go to hell, Zap!”
“Don’t say that. We just came from there.” Zap, named after her experiences with shock therapy one too many times, responded as she pointed out their next place to rob. “There it is, girls!”
“What are we talking about, exactly?” A lady wearing headphones perked up from the top of the group.
“Don’t worry, Lemon.” Sugarcoat answered as she pulled out a small laptop and hid behind a bush. The rest of the Shadows surrounded her as they stared at the screen as a wall of codes and technical gobbledygook. “I’ve got this.” After two hours, the Shadows minus Sugarcoat filed their way back towards their domicile. “Well, thanks for staying with me, girls…” She sighed and continued to hack into the security system of the nearby museum.
The screen read Amelia’s two favorite words: ACCESS GRANTED, but afterward, there was a message that she didn’t expect. “WELCOME TO THE FILES OF FLINT LOCKWOOD.” At the sight of the flashing dispatch, she slammed her monitor shut, slipped the laptop back into its case, and ran back to Cinch’s place.
The next day, when Sugarcoat opened her computer, a set of coordinates appeared on the screen with a message. “CONGRATULATIONS. I DON’T THINK I’VE HAD ANYONE GET INTO ANY OF MY COMPUTERS BEFORE. FOLLOW THE COORDINATES ON THE SCREEN AND I’LL UNLOCK YOUR COMPUTER. YOU’VE GOT MASSIVE TALENT. WELCOME TO LEVERAGE. - FLINT LOCKWOOD.”