Lucie had finished her breakfast only a short few minutes after Aleksandra herself had gone to get some sleep. Sometimes she still surprised herself with how voracious her appetite could be, but then again, keeping her body in the shape that it was required large amounts of nutrients.
After that she had gone about her preparations. They mostly consisted of planning for the evening ahead, but also making sure that all of the items she needed to bring with her, were accounted for. She had sharpened her knives, polished her saber and made sure it and the scabbard was well oiled, as well as checking her small gun for any left-over slug. It had been a long time since she’d fired this particular revolver, and she knew that it had been cleaned thoroughly more than once. However, she had been taught never to take any chances.
Following this she had sent out messages via street boys—paying them well to ensure they did exactly as asked—and snooped around a little herself. She didn’t hear much, only that it wasn’t anyone she knew that was responsible. At the very least, it didn’t make sense to kidnap one’s own men. And though she had no count on how many, there were a few tales of men disappearing from among her previous “family”.
The majority of the afternoon had passed with those activities, and she found herself with only one last objective to complete before she and Aleksandra could venture out on their little mystery.
And that was waking up the sleeping beauty.
A dubious claim, Lucie thought, stepping up to the door. She was clad in what one could only call combat attire: Leather jerkin and trousers, high leather boots and gloves. Shin and arm guards protected her limbs, while providing hiding spots for two knives in each armguard. She wore two belts, one sitting slightly higher than the other. In the lowest belt she held a total of four, small throwing knives, with two long daggers sitting in a pair of small scabbards near the backside of her hips, forcing her to reach backwards were she to grab them. A six-shot revolver attached to the belt on her right. The belt sitting higher had a scabbard with a sabre attached to it, both well oiled and sharpened. Finally, her hair was done in a braid, hanging over the front of her shoulder.
She knocked on Aleksandra’s door, a sly smile on her lips. She had gotten the location of the russian’s room from one of the staff, having asked nicely for once rather than playing with him like some succubus.
Aleksandra rolled over in the small bed, burying her face in a pillow as a knock came from the door. She’d woken up over half an hour ago, but the bed was soft, and boots were not soft. She preferred soft things to not soft things.
Grumbling, she eventually roused herself only to fall over the side, “Вали отсюда, богемский сука!” (Fuck off, Bohemian bitch!) She growled at the door, then muttering in English, “Some of us are trying to sleep.” She pushed herself to her feet, stumbling to the door and pulling it open as she blinked through sleep addled eyes, brushing some hair out of her face. “It’s time already, isn’t it?” She asked with a tone that suggested she was about to be lead to her execution.
Aleksandra was met with the smiling face of Lucie as she opened the door, the—in her own words—Bohemian bitch stood her ground, her amber eyes twinkling in barely contained glee. Lucie’s smile was positively impish as she nodded, letting the Russian know that it was time for them to head out.
“It is,” she said, speaking English slowly, and making sure to articulate every word as best she could. “But first,” she held up a large leather bag, “we have some things we need to take care of. The first of which,” she looked up, “is your hair.” Refocusing on Aleksandra, she motioned with a hand, silently asking for entrance into the room. She stepped inside shortly after, Aleksandra having stepped aside, though not without what sounded like half a dozen displeased grunts. Evidently the woman in question very much preferred sleep over any kind of work.
“Let me give you the run-down of what I have in mind… I’m going to have you kidnapped.”
Aleksandra blinked once, then twice. “You’re going to what.” She stated flatly, fixing Lucie with an incredulous look. “You’ll have to forgive me for not being wildly enthusiastic about such a proposition.”
Closing the door, she sat down on her chair, wishing she’d at least had some time to change out of her nightgown and into something a bit less revealing, but there wasn’t much she could do now. “So before you go and explain why I’m going to be kidnapped, tell me what it is you plan to do with my hair.” She raised an eyebrow at Lucie, “Something tells me I’m not going to like any of this one bit.”
Lucie sat down on the bed, placing her bag beside her. She seemed to consider opening it for a while, but evidently thought better of it. She turned to Aleksandra, looking her over, finding herself surprised by the gown she wore, not to mention the figure barely hidden underneath. She let as much show, eyebrows raising in a show of surprise. “I must admit, I am impressed. I had thought myself the only one who bothered to truly train themselves.” She let a small, somewhat genuine, smile tug at her lips. “But let’s leave that for another time. I was referring to your hair before because, let’s be frank, it looks like a bird’s nest. I’ll need to sort it out. But that can also be saved for a later time. I have a plan for what we’re going to do.”
She opened her bag and started pulling out the contents, lining them up on the bed in neat order, speaking as she did so. “As I said, I plan to have you kidnapped. The information Mr. Adam gave was indicates that it is only attractive men who are abducted. Not only that, but they are usually young and must be alone. I have considerable skill in the arts of applying make-up, and have taken on the role as a man before.”
“So have I,” Aleksandra interjected, before letting Lucie continue.
Lucie looked up, pausing in her sorting of her items. They ranged from clothing to blush to bright sticks of lip paint. She did not look pleased by the interrupted, though neither did she look angry or annoyed. She turned her attention back to displaying the bag’s contents. “Be that as it may,” she continued, “but fact of the matter is that your appearance is more masculine than mine, and even if we are both at the heights of men, you are moreso than I. My plan is simple: We’ll lay a trap at first, see if we can lure them out. To this end, I’ll make you look like a man. You’ll have to dress as one, act like one, and sound like one. I can help you with all of those, though the latter is particularly tricky.” She stood up then, grabbing a large brush from the pile of items she had procured from her bag. “Now let’s get that hair of yours fixed.”
Before doing anything else, Aleksandra smirked at Lucie and, playing up her accent, coughed in an unmistakeably male -albeit on the softer side of things- voice, “I doubt the latter will be as big a difficulty as you imagine.” In her normal voice she continued, “I have done much of this before, you realize.”
Regardless, she shrugged, “I can take care of my own hair, but if you insist, do what you wish.” Discontinuing conversation about hair she asked, “What about this trap you intend to lay? I have my suspicions that simply waiting around will do little to lead us to the target we seek.” She paused, “Might I request that you hold on to my own sword for me nonetheless? I suspect carrying it around might deter our quarry from making a move, if indeed your trap would otherwise succeed. If there comes a point where we must fight someone, you’ll find I’m not all that incapable with one.”
“It most likely won’t bring us the culprit, but being able to be about in the night unnoticed might give us some insight.” Lucie made the first stroke with the brush. She wasn’t kind, but neither unnecessarily mean. She figured that the larger woman could endure whatever tugs may come. She had to admit, however, that the colour of the hair was extraordinarily pretty. While as white as snow, it didn’t make her look old. Only exotic. “And you can work on that male voice of yours. I can give you a few pointers. As for your sword—” she tugged hard at a stubborn tangle, pulling a few hairs free in the process “—I can take care of it for you. Should not be a problem.” She finished with those white locks, moving to put the brush down on the bed. Instead she picked up a medium sized box, opening it to reveal a whole host of different shades of blush and other such things.
“I’ll make a man out of you,” she said, a small glint in her eyes. “But bear with me.”
Lucie stood behind Aleksandra, struggling with the latch of a binder. It just wouldn’t close, the two sides of the binder refusing to meet no matter how much she seemed to struggle. With the size of Aleksandra’s breasts, she had to use a binder to be able to pass for a man, but as it was that proved to be a challenge. She ground her teeth, muttering out a curse. “Why do they have to be so big?” She complained.
Aleksandra snickered, letting Lucie struggle with the garment for a little while. “Everything’s bigger in Russia.” She singsonged by way of response. “Surely you have a bigger one somewhere?” She then asked, not turning around but hiding her smirk all the same.
Lucie, much in the way a small girl would, harrumphed in as immature a manner as one could expect from a child. Rather than reply verbally, she pulled tighter, relentlessly crushing Aleksandra’s ribs and chest, finally getting the clasps to lock together. “I hope you like not breathing,” she muttered in Czech. An exaggeration, perhaps, but sometimes vindictiveness was justified.
Aleksandra sighed internally - some people would be childish it seemed. “I do have one of my own, you realize?” Shrugging, she turned around, folding her arms over her chest as she snickered, “Jealous, much?”
“Jealous?” Lucie asked, speaking English once more, and adopting a shocked expression. “I was simply tightening the binder so that it actually worked. Now, sit down. I still have to touch up on a few things.”
Aleksandra inspected herself in a small handheld mirror. Lucie had managed to give her face the appearance of recently shaven stubble, and she herself had a pair of men’s boots, excessively shiny ones at that. Hidden from sight were her two custom pistols, as well as a knife in her right boot and a smaller neck knife well hidden by the coat.
“I look for all the world the spitting image of a naive American man come to sightsee in Prague, and to my great horror, oh so woefully lost within the urban jungle.” She commented idly, in almost perfect American English with just the barest hint of Southern inflection. “Mr. William Christopher Wood, from Virginia, at your service, ma’am.” She offered an exaggerated bow towards Lucie.
“Should I flex my arms or something too? That’s what men do, right?” She examined her attire once more, having exchanged her usual light coat in the style of a Russian military overcoat for one that was seemingly identical, but in fact was lined on the interior with silk - an addition that had cost her no small fortune to be added, but would in fact reliably stop a handgun were such a misfortune to occur.
Lucie glanced up at Aleksandra as she studied herself in the mirror. While not one to usually brag—That’s quite the lie, Miss Ruzicka, and you know it, she thought to herself—she would admit to have done a very good job at transforming Aleksandra from a decently attractive young woman, to the very picture of a stupid foreigner. Or at least that was her original intentions, but duty had come before and she’d settled for simply making her look like a man, with a touch of foreign blood at her companion’s request. She had taken for granted the fact that everybody was capable of speaking the local language, and had planned the night ahead around that fact. Much to her chagrin, however, Aleksandra had pointed that fact out, and suggested instead that she play the part of a foreigner who did not speak the language.
Having her plans revised by others was not a pleasant experience, but for the sake of the task ahead she had allowed it. Not that I had much choice. It was either that, or leave a gaping hole in my plans.
They stood outside the gates of the mansion, a small hansom cab was parked outside, a man sitting on the raised seat in the back holding the reins of the horses. He seemed the patient sort, having neither asked them when they were to depart, nor indicated any restlessness. He was the good kind of servant to have. Lucie nodded in satisfaction, and stepped forward, only to stop before she even reached the step to it. She turned to Aleksandra, now calling herself William, and glanced pointedly between her and the cab, hands on her hips.
Aleksandra sighed, raising an eyebrow at Lucie as she herself neared the carriage. “You do realize that I consider this nonsense about men aiding women into a carriage to be just that - nonsense, yes?”
“When in Prague, do as the Praguer’s,” Lucie said quietly, loud enough for only Aleksandra to hear, presenting her hand in such a way that it could not be mistaken for anything, but an invitation to help her up and into the vehicle. She smiled sweetly, tilting her head as she looked up at the other woman. “Let me indulge, if only for a moment.”
“If you’re looking to indulge, perhaps don’t dress as if you’re intending to fit into some terrible American dime novel about a cliché assassin performing whatever cliché acts cliché assassins do in terrible dime novels.” Aleksandra raised a quizzical eyebrow, nonetheless sighing as she resumed the soft spoken Southern tone and masculine voice, “Methinks that the lady is somewhat ailed by this night air, and it has addled her thoughts. Please, allow me to assist thee lest your state worsen further, mi’lady.” She snipped, her voice almost dripping with snarkasm by the end, but still managing to seem polite and proper as ever.
Lucie, having either not heard the venom dripping from the words or didn’t care, bowed her head in a silent thanks as she was helped onto the cab, settling in the well-worn seats. She kept the mask of the delicate lady for another short while, waiting for Aleksandra, and then let it slip. She could have sworn their chauffeur shook his head at their theatrics, but ignored it in favour of going over with Aleksandra exactly what they were going to do, albeit in a whispered tone so that no one—not even the driver—could hear the two of them.
She leaned forward, speaking softly. “Once we arrive, I will wander off and disappear. You’ll find some place that’s relatively solitary, and I will shadow you. Then…”
She continued going over the details with Aleksandra as the hansom cab rattled down the streets. Tonight they were going to catch someone.
Ivar,
Danyel,
Fetzen,
washcloth,
Tim the Yeti,
oooooo,
ThatLostDude,
Damycles,
ConteAmarula,
BangoSkank
