•|Mona Adams|Pemby,Anarma|Outskirts|•
Crack.
"
Fuck." Mona sighed, resting her strained pointer finger back to it's original position. She looked down with an annoyed expression at her manicured black nail, a now above average sized split running down it's center. She huffed to herself, biting down on her bottom lip, as she started to chew the skin out of habit.
"
I swear to.." she was cut off before the sentence could leave her lips by a flock of seagulls next to her. Currently, she found herself on the outer-lines of Pemby, Anarma. Her home city, and her newest play pen. It was only 5 years ago she found herself pulled into the mysterious "city" -- or whatever people were calling it, and after a short week of exploration, she had decided to stay.
It was a few months before she heard tell of others like herself living in the city, and before she noticed not everyone around her was... well...
human.
She looked down to the floor, eyeing her shoes, which happened to be 6 inch stiletto heels; an accessory which Mona was rarely seen without and was quite often questioned about. Questions such as "how do you stand on those?" and comments like "wow, those must be killer". Common questions, common comments, ones she enjoyed giving answers to.
There was something about the small things in Mona's life that others couldn't fathom; which made the red skinned individual feel powerful and in-control.
Mona looked up, her burnt golden eyes focusing on the glistening magenta lights falling through the panes of old, nearly shattered glass above her. She was outside a run-down brick apartment building, somewhere on the outskirts of Pemby, a place she'd rarely frequent. She watched as the colours dripped from the window above her, and rode their way through the cool night breeze. The blaring music rang through her highly sensitive ears, whisking away whatever ambient sounds nature held in store for her, tonight.
She found herself tapping her long, slender hand to the side of her bared thigh, in accordance to the beat of the music. Her eyes now shut, she let the sound waves carry her through the night, washing away her current thoughts and struggles; bringing her to a moment of sheer and utter bliss. And just as soon as she had felt peace, the music turned on her, dropping to such an extent Mona felt the concrete below her shake, rumble and jump, causing her entire body's shock.
Just as easily as she had been blissful. Rage filled her.
She opened her eyes, the burnt gold now glowing with hatred. In a moments notice she found herself mimicking party-goers, walking up the small set of shambled stairs underneath the tiny brick building where the rage inducing music was coming from. This was where Mona's target was, and this was where Mona's target would stay, albeit dead.
A smile hitched the demons lips, curving her face into a sadistic grin. She made her way up the stairs, heels clacking relentlessly on the wrought iron stairs. They were rather dangerous for an individual wearing heels -- that weren't wedges. Each stair was spray painted black, with small holes and leafy looking carvings in random places. Mona found herself walking up the stairs, eyes glued to her feet to make sure her heel didn't fall through one of the stairs holes.
As she touched the landing at the top of the stairs, she looked behind her, watching the sun fall in the sky. It was a rather beautiful night, even for October; when everything started getting colder and darker, faster and faster. She walked into the party behind a rather boisterous couple hung over each other, and as she entered, her eyes scanned the room for her target. It wasn't anything amazing to look at, it was quite small in fact. There was a half sized kitchen on the far left crowded with drunk individuals, a small door that most likely lead to a bedroom directly beside it; probably occupied by a group - mid orgy. a large haphazardly made couch with a base made of a large flat of wood, and the cushion part seemed to be an old, tattered futon, and to the right, a large DJ booth, from which there was no DJ, but continuous music kept playing. On top of the crappy looking couch was a man and two women draping themselves over his sweaty, practically bare body; aside from the boxer shorts and housecoat.
Mona cocked her head to the side, no one would miss this douche. She smiled, striding up to the man with a confident gate in her step. The leather hugging her body moved with each step, barely giving room for movement, but that's the way Mona liked it. She knew all male attention was on her at that moment. It was almost like a catwalk as she strode down the center of the tiny one bedroom apartment, pulled the gold and black embellished gun from out behind her back, and shot not once, but twice, directly into the center of the futon man's head, smile never leaving her face.
The sound of screams filled the demons ears as she whipped around to watch the panic spread from face to face. Girls screaming their lungs out, men grabbing hold of their dates - and beer, high-tailing it for the small door that everyone was trying to cram their way through at the moment. Mona chuckled to herself, closing in on the dead mans body, she jumped up onto the ugly lounge he was so enjoying himself on, pushing the end of her heel into his cheek, causing his body to roll onto the ground in a heavy, ugly, dead lump.
She plopped down onto the futon, understanding now why he choose to sit here, finding it rather soft and comfortable. She sat there, twirling one of her twin guns around her pointer finger, watching as the last party guest shuffled out of the room, practically shitting themselves' and all Mona could think to do was laugh.
The music was still blaring, loud, with hard drops and continuous base; two things she was quite sick of at this point. Teeth gritted, she took aim at the two large Bose speakers, pulling the trigger and shooting directly into the center of the speakers, ending the pounding and silencing Wrath...at least for that moment.
She reached down to her side, retrieving the cellphone she kept plastered to her side with the help of her leather outfit (who needs pockets when you have skintight clothes?), bringing the phone in front of her eyes, tapping on the unlock button to open up her phones main screen. She punched in her passcode, shuffling her feet into a criss-crossed position, and began to type to a blocked, unknown number, that was simply labeled with a "?" question mark, in her phones messages.
[spoili][/spoili]
She sat back, dropping her phone into her lap, closing her eyes, listening to the blissful silence.