Heist
New AU? New AU.
Some world building: Fusion of magic and technology. Mages exist, but this is set in a sort of hybrid of future tech and magic. Not modern or ancient, but futuristic with magic!
Darevas and Felasel belong to @selenelavellan
Cirimeni belongs to @justanartsysideblog
Falon’din and the other Evanuris mentioned belong to @feynites
Minor Falon’din warning.
The Evanuris Museum Exposition. A beautiful building dedicated to the stolen wealth of the most powerful elven family in all of Thedas. Tall and white with energy running through it as the T1-AN Core makes its world debut as a reliable, and limitless, energy source. The Core sits in the main atrium of the building, though it needs no sun to power itself, Miriel knows that it casts a beautiful glow through the halls when it mingles with sunlight. It is as much an art installation as a power source.
As fascinating as the Core is, it is not her target tonight. Oh no, that would be too predictable, and impractical given her supplies. The Core is massive, weighing over five tons, and filled with so much energy that improper handling could not only kill her, but level everything in a ten mile radius. Miriel is a thief, not a murderer.
Miriel’s target, or rather targets, are smaller but just as worthy. Everyone will be expecting a move on the Core tonight, which makes other targets that much more appealing. After all, they don’t need the Core itself - just the blueprints on how it works. But that is late game, right now is just a game.
“We’re in position,” a feminine robotic voice hums in Miriel’s earpiece disguised as an elaborate ear cuff. Miriel smiles in acknowledgement, knowing that Cirimeni’s got eyes all over the building and can very well see her.
Normally she likes to be in the shadows, slinking in and out before anyone sees her. Tonight is a different story, though. There are too many guards to be able to successfully cat burgle anything. So Miriel is taking a page out of the old heist manual and going in as the distraction. Cirimeni and Fenris had debated vehemently with her about this, but it’s the best option.
She just happens to be his type.
Or at least close enough that the approximators she’s wearing can make her seem irresistible to the heir to the Evanuris wealth. Her contacts are blue, masking her golden eyes, and her face approximator softens some of the angles in her face, making her appear more doll like. Approximators cover her left arm and leg like hose, hiding the dark vine tattoos that swirl over almost the entirety of her left side. While she doesn’t think he cares about tattoos, they’re too distinctive and could give her away.
Miriel’s dressed herself in a low cut, high slit black halter dress that makes her golden skin practically glow. Her long honey blond hair is left long and down, enticing some idiot to grab it. Or perhaps a specific idiot.
“Invitation,” the guard asks at the front glass doors. Miriel smiles and produces the holographic invitation from her small purse.
“Aeva du Roche,” she purrs in a flawless Orlesian elven accent, “curator at the Jader High Museum.” The guard gives her a look and looks down at the holograph. He runs a hand over it, the electricity reacting to the slim finger piece he’s wearing on his ring finger. A band at the base of the piece clicks then turns a bright green.
“You’re cleared. Enjoy the party.” He steps aside, gesturing to the door. She half expects him to open it before she realizes that the door itself is a hologram. Eluvian tech? Fancy indeed.
She smiles at the guard, taking her invitation back before stepping through the door. The energy tickles the approximators, giving her tiny shocks along her arms, face, and leg. She shows no signs of discomfort, accustomed to the small shocks her little devices give her.
The inside of the building is more opulent and grand than the outside with immense custom made glittering chandeliers that glow blue with energy, glistening marble floors, and a roof made entirely out of glass. The ceilings are tall enough to make a giant feel small and she wonders if June took that thought into consideration when building - making sure everyone felt small when compared to the might and power of the Evanuris family.
Mythal must be delighted.
Miriel doesn’t mind feeling small, not like many of these ass kissing socialites who are only here to garner favor. Small things are rarely noticed and that is ultimately her goal - not to be noticed. Except for tonight, of course, she is banking on being noticed.
The front room is flanked by pillars that support the glass ceiling and those pillars create smaller alcoves where groups of people have gathered in meeting. Miriel walks down the center of the room toward the atrium, smiling at any passerby. The front room is for gossips, and while she normally is a fan, tonight is a mission.
The great double door are so large they cannot be opened by a person but instead either be opened by sensors or by runes. They are kept open tonight, however, allowing free exploration of the rooms. She steps through the threshold and into the atrium, and while she knows what to expect with the Core, she cannot help but gasp in awe of it. It’s...radiant, pulsating with energy within its titanium steel display case. She steps closer to it, unable to ignore how it beats like a heart -
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Someone says next to her. She turns quickly to see a tall man, a handsome tall elven man next to her. His dark hair is slicked back from his face, highlighting his bright blue eyes. This is Darevas Evanuris, son to Dirthamen Evanuris and nephew to Falon’Din, the heir. Not her mark but...enticing enough to engage in conversation certainly. He’s rumored to not be much older than she is, recently graduating with his MBA. She wonders where his twin is, the two are rarely seen apart.
Miriel lets her eyes drag over him for a second, appraising his build and his clothes, and that watch, before looking him in the eye. She smiles, “It is. A true marvel of engineering.”
Like most men, he is pleased at her roaming eye and seems to puff up just a bit for her, “I’m equally as impressed by how beautiful they made it. It’s nice to see the future is efficient and beautiful.”
“Oh yes,” she says, “It would be dreadful to have such a marvel be hideous. Especially to throw a party around it.” She is perhaps a tad too cheeky but Darevas chuckles.
“I am Darevas, by the way,” he says, offering his hand. She takes his hand, shaking it, turning it over gently to expose his golden watch.
“Aeva du Roche, a pleasure. And is this a Jacobson? Those are quite rare now, with modern technology.” She lets his hand go and he blushes slightly.
“Ah, yes. It was a gift for my recent graduation.”
“Oh? Congratulations are in order then. I would offer you a toast, but I am afraid we have no drinks.”
“We can’t have that, now can we?” Darevas looks around, spies one of the servers and beckons him over. He takes two glasses off the tray and offers one to Miriel with a charming smile. She accepts the champagne and clinks her glass to his.
“Congratulations, may your future be as bright as this marvel.” She sips from her glass, maintaining his eye contact.
“Thank you. And might I ask what is your occupation, Lady Aeva? Everyone here knows my family and business, it puts me at a disadvantage.”
Oh he is a charming one, isn’t he? She glances around the room, not seeing her mark. The night is still young and she has some time, she supposes. Getting in good with this little lordling may not be such a bad thing.
“I would not say that, your father has done quite a good job at concealing you from the public,” but not good enough to keep Miriel from digging, “I know little about you.”
“Ah, then might we play the game, then?”
“The Game? You speak to an Orlesian, darling, The Game manes something quite specific to us.” She teases and he chuckles.
“Ah yes, The Game. I merely mean the game that people who have just met each other play, where one asks a question and the other answers and asks a question in turn.”
“Oh, that game. Are you sure you are up to playing?” She teases, walking around him. He follows her a bit like a puppy. She can feel his eyes roaming over her body and for once she is not repulsed by the action. Men ogle her, they want her, and she is happy to put on a show as long as they adhere to all museum rules - look but no touching.
“I did suggest it,” he says.
“Very well. I shall begin. What is your degree in?”
“Business, specifically looking into ethics.” Now that is a surprise. Ethics from an Evanuris? Perhaps he learned about them to only better aid his family is breaking them. The family has had no issue in violating any code of ethics before. Killing people, embezzlement, theft of Dalish land and artifacts. She would not be surprised if the Core is stolen technology from the dwarves.
“I did not realize the family had an interest in business ethics,” she says off-handedly, looking at a rather dull human made bust of an old king.
“Ah, but perhaps it is not about my family and about me.” What a novel concept to have one of the Evanuris to want to step away some from the family’s interests. So novel a concept that it must be a lie.
As handsome as he is, Miriel must remember who he is, who his family is.
“Perhaps, and isn’t all higher education an ode to oneself?” she says, turning into a hallway that runs adjacent to the atrium. It is filled with more busts of famous historical figures that she doesn’t care to know.
“And you protest such things?” He asks and she chuckles.
“Hardly. Who is to say I have not written a symphony to myself with all my education?” She hasn’t, but she is playing someone who likely has.
“Have you?” He asks.
“I have. Bachelor’s, Master’s, a PhD. I am my biggest fan,” she plays.
“Dr. du Roche, then.”
“Yes,” she turns to him and leans up by his ear, “but you, darling, call me Aeva.” The air charges with slight magic and it reminds her of his lineage. The Evanuris are known to be mages and he is no different, it seems. Magic curls around them, prickling along the lines of her approximators.
“Very well, Aeva,” his voice is low and sends an involuntary shiver down her back. She needs to keep her purpose in mind, needs to not become caught up in whatever this is. Her loneliness is only outmatched by her outrage and determination.
My people will be free once again. And those blueprints are the key to said freedom.
“Do be a dear,” she says, “and show me this incredible building. I long to see what treasures your family has acquired.” Stolen more like. Darevas is a dear, though, offering his arm before he whisks her off around the museum. He is a good host, telling her about the pieces. She spots at least a dozen fake items and more that she knows to be stolen or at least acquired in illegal means. She’s seen them on the black market - she has even pawned a few of these at the beginning of her thieving career. To keep up her ruse, she tells him a few things about a couple of the pieces she knows.
By the time they return to the atrium she thinks that surely her mark has arrived. But she cannot see him and the band is cueing up a song.
“May I have this dance?” Darevas asks. She shouldn’t, it’s a bad idea, yet she finds herself taking his offered hand.
“I do so love to dance,” she says and lets him guide her across the floor. He is a marvelous dancer, leading her perfectly through the dance. It is a simpler formal dance to appeal to the widest cast of people here, but the way Darevas dances makes it feel more incredible than its actual simple steps.
The song ends and she finds she wants to keep dancing. It wouldn’t be so bad, she thinks, to stay and -
“Falon’din has entered the building,” Cirimeni says and she inwardly curses. Miriel smiles up at Darevas and draws a delicate nail down his cheek.
“You are a darling.” She extricates herself from his arms, dragging her hands down so that her fingers coil delicately over his watch. She unclasps it all the while maintaining his gaze. He is rapt with her and it almost makes her feel bad.
Almost. She steps away, disappearing into the crowd, slipping his watch into her purse. He won’t miss it. His family is made of money and if he throws a fit, she’s sure Mamae and Papae will buy him another.
Now she must set her trap for one of the worst members of the family. A rapist and a killer, Falon’din is kept along as a sort of embarrassing pet to Mythal. She makes sure the law doesn’t look at Falon’din overlong and in turn, Falon’din victimizes people throughout the land.
Miriel slinks into the shadows and up to the third floor, mapping her route. June Evanuris’s office is located at the back of the museum, overlooking both the atrium and the gardens. It is a spacious and gorgeous office but it is also sealed - only someone with Evanuris level clearance can enter. As much as a disappointment Falon’din is, he is an Evanuris. She pulls out a small appliance from her purse and places it on the door. It beeps to life and does a scan of the room beyond the glass. A hologram projects in front of the device, giving Miriel the ability to survey the room without setting off any alarms. She manipulates the hologram, looking at every nook and cranny. The blueprints are likely in a safe, on a password encrypted drive.
Aha! There, on the left wall there is a false panel. If she pops it open, it will reveal its secrets. All she needs is to get the drive, the others can solve the rest.
Next, she puts another device on the handle and activates it. This program alters the DNA scan to verify the person pulling the door is verified to enter. She has a strand of Sylaise’s hair but alas, the scanner requires a living person. The bug she’s using to override the scan isn’t even exactly overriding the scan, but rather programing it to ignore some of the DNA so that a relative to the verified person can enter.
Ah, gotta love black market tech. Unfortunately, Darevas is not close enough in relation to Sylaise for it to work with him. Miriel needs either a brother, a sister, a mother, or a father. Andruil is not at this gathering and Dirthamen is rumored to be unwavering faithful. She isn’t going anywhere close to Mythal or Elgar’nan. Sylaise herself is plastered next to June all night and will not be lured away.
That leaves Miriel with Falon’din.
Satisfied with her plan, Miriel peels off the reader and puts it back in her purse. She heads down to the atrium once more.
“Where is he?” she whispers.
“In the eastern wing of the atrium by the fountain, sulking.” He won’t be sulking for long. Miriel touches up her lipstick and fluffs her hair. Time to get this show started.
It should terrify her, what she is planning to do, but instead she feels a sick sort of glee. Nothing makes her happier than robbing assholes. The music in the hall rises as she descends the stairs.
There he is, leaning against a pillar, scowling at the fountain, arms folded over his chest like a petulant child. The only other person she loathes more is Mythal, but she is at least not trying to lure and seduce Mythal.
Miriel steps slightly out of the shadows and poses a little, tilting her head back, exposing her neck. Falon’din’s gaze flickers up, back down, then up again, settling on her.
Got him.
She shifts her weight and bats her eyelashes. Intent blazes in his eyes and stalks forward. She grins, crooking her finger at him before bolting up the stairs.
Have to be faster. She bolts up the two flights of stairs, flashing smiles back at her pursuer. His age has slowed him but he is still dangerous, she knows. At the top of the stairs, she turns and beckons him more.
“I found the perfect place,” she croons, backing up to June’s office.
He’s breathing heavily but still moving towards her.
“I can’t get it open,” she pouts, “maybe you’ll get it open?” She bites her lip, hoping he doesn’t just forego the room completely. Her luck is with her, however and he grasps the handle. There is a noticeable whirr then click and the door eases open.
“Oh you are amazing,” she purrs, slinking past him inside. Close the doo-
He follows her inside, grasps her hair and pulls.
“Ah!” She cries as he yanks her head back to look at him.
“You’re a tease, aren’t you?” He slants his mouth over hers and she has to resist gagging. The plan, she has to remember the plan. And fortunately, she planned for this occurance.
The fingers on her left hand press into her palm, typing in a code into a the approximator. Electricity seizes her arm and she shoves her hand up to Falon’din’s face.
He screams as the electricity courses into his body and the buzzer saps his magic but he is bigger than she anticipated and it’s not enough to down him like she had originally hoped.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He shouts charging her. His hand comes around her throat as he throws her against the glass, making it crack. She cries out in pain before the hair is slowly squeezed from her. Her eyes go wide as she realizes she has made a horrible mistake.
He tears her dress down, exposing her.
Can’t breathe - ! But she can remember. Miriel gives a small hop, lifting her feet to launch a kick into his knees. He buckles, surprised enough that his grip loosens. She reaches up and pulls on his fingers, twisting them until break. He shrieks in pain but she doesn’t let up. She grabs his hair and knees him the face.
Go down, go down. But the bastard is tough and he is beginning to cast.
Shit! She leaps over to the desk and grabs a heavy vase. She clubs him over the head with it, then knicks him for good measure before noticing -
Oh no.
His head...is at a sickening angle. Blank eyes stare at nothing and she realizes he’s dead.
She killed him. The Falon’din Evanuris. She, Miriel of clan Bellenan of ill repute and questionable methods, killed Falon’din Evanuris.
She….she’s never killed anyone before.
“We’re coming! Get the blueprints!” Cirimeni shouts in her ear. Right, the...the reason she’s here. Swallowing back the urge to vomit, Miriel stumbles first to the computer. Might as well steal all the files. She plugs in the drive that will pull all the files then limps over to the wall. She presses the panel and a screen appears. Right, the safe. She raises her left hand with the approximator and presses it against the screen.
“Override it,” she says.
“On it,” Lasvala says. The current in her arm is horrendously uncomfortable as it always is, the prosthetic is still wired into her nervous system even if it is designed to be the ultimate subterfuge weapon. “Got it.”
The screen disappears and the panel slides down to reveal a small case. She grabs it just as the door opens and light blasts in from the party.
“Aeva!” Darvas shouts then looks down to see his quite dead uncle. Shit!
Horror crosses over his face and another person appears next to him, “You fought him off…what do you have?” The other person asks and she has no time to explain herself. They’ll kill her, she’s most wanted now. Goodbye Miriel the Thief, hello Miriel the Murderer.
Asshole had it coming, though.
She grabs the drive from the computer then turns, running to the window. She tosses a ball of electricity at the glass and it shatters just as she clears the threshold.
“AEVA!” Darevas shouts.
Overhead is the telltale whirr of the Bird - a weird cross between car, helicopter, and plane. Miriel grabs the lowered cable with her left hand and it takes off, pulling her up as it sails over the gardens.
Her last view of the museum is of Darevas at the broken window, stunned and horrified. She shouldn’t care, really shouldn’t, he’s one of them. It doesn’t matter that he’s into ethics and a divine dancer or that he could potentially be different. Because he’s not different.
The Evanuris are users and abusers.
And she killed one tonight.
The hatch opens up and she crawls into the Bird.
“Took you long enough,” Cirimeni says through her Artificial-Voice Modulator Torque - Y edition, or AMITY for short. “Did you get it?”
“I killed him,” Miriel murmurs, “but yeah, I got it. Plus all their files.”
“Yes! Shit, Miri, you were so cool! Something outta the movies,” Lasvala says as they help her into a seat.
“Maibrit will be happy,” Cirimeni says as she flies the Bird higher into the sky to avoid detection.
“Yeah.” Miriel leans against the seat and tries to calm down. She did it, she got the blueprint.
And became a killer.