MISGUIDED GHOSTS.

ROXANNE STEELE | thirty-two | hitwoman for the cavalry | dancer at crimson velvet | the devil in a new dress.

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of bugs, prison, death

roxanne... or should i use your real name to get your attention?

TLDR: roxanne is sent a text message from pantheon and is forced to make a choice, herself or the cavalry? but, considering the anonymity of their attacker, roxanne believes it's far more nuanced than that. after decades of running new york city, maybe it's not them who have the power anymore.

LOCATION: la madrugada, back offices FOR: emiliano del castillo

DESPITE THE DEMENOR THAT cruz wears somewhat like a scar -- sarcastic and with skin like worn leather, they do have the occasional soft spot every now and then. emiliano del castillo just so happens to be one of them. having seen each other through over a decade of time with the mob -- cruz had always believed his assertion was imminent ( even if they'd never say something that fucking soft out loud ). thus, she gives him a bit less lip than one might expect from him. thinks a bit longer before making a choice -- wondering if it would potentially jeopardize the deal he had sent them on.

friendship, somewhere along the way, seemed to happen naturally. somewhere along the way nods of approval turned to occasional jokes. and as some would say -- the rest is history.

LOCATION: a neutral hotel, late night FOR: augustine bell

OF COURSE, CRUZ KNOWS what they're doing -- sleeping with someone who shares a different loyalty than them. and yet, there's a part of them that can feel their brain melting out of their ears the moment their eyes fall on a beautiful woman. augustine bell is one such particular case -- leading to frequent visits to hotel rooms that were likely a far cry from the contingency leader's stomping grounds. and yet, cruz prided themselves on making sure the other woman soon forgot about her surroundings -- making them worth her while.

the room smelled of cigarette's and lavender detergent, the dealer's body wrapped in well-loved white sheets. there she was -- the other woman poised elegantly across the room. cruz rarely ever found themselves unable to keep their cool -- and their head was still level. they release an exhale as they adjust, a cocky smile on their face.

LOCATION: crimson velvet, late night FOR: open! ( 0/5 )

HER POCKETS MAY HAVE already been overflowing -- but roxanne steele was like a lioness. never quite satisfied, always not just looking for her next mark, but her next means of entertainment. having just come on the stage -- it was back to the tracking portion of her job. she was just as awake as she had been when she walked in the door ( she would credit it to her own efficiency -- when the red bull can she'd thrown laxidasically in the trash on her break was simply finally kicking in ), nodding in approval to one of the other girls as she witnessed her poised in the lap of a wall street banker as if he was wrapped around her finger. classic. even some of the wealthiest men in the world possess weak spots -- no matter how much they moan and groan that they don't.

LOCATION: la madrugada. FOR: rüya nacar.

OH, WHAT A NIGHT IT had already been. frankly, cruz wasn't suprised at all by the audacity of people -- particularly grown men. although they weren't phased, they were particularly annoyed. and yet, they would go on with the rest of their evening knowing that emiliano would cut them another check. that was what all this was for -- right? another check, so they could pay for their overpriced shithole they called an apartment. and yet, they had always been like a fucking cockroach -- always landing on their feet.

eyes were scanning the area around them, watching for anyone familiar amongst the sweaty bodies and pounding bass. that is, until their eyes fall on rüya, engulfed in the club lighting. cruz was familiar enough with the woman, considering that nico had the tendency to peak in on their work every now and again. thus, they find themselves comfortable enough to approach her.

LOCATION: celestina's office, mid-day FOR: celestina de castillo

IS THERE A CERTAIN amount of joy they get out of keeping the boss lady on their toes? absolutely. in their line of work, they find themselves searching for any kind of amusement they can. and yet, they know they'll be loyal to the mob until the moment they take their last breath. in their heart of hearts, they know that they'd probably be dead had it not been for their work with them. the mob had given them a chance to get their feet underneath them, making a living in one of the most expensive cities in the country.

" boo. " they great celestina as she enters her office, having been planted with their legs slung over the arm of her chair and crossed for the past twenty minutes. they soon find themselves sitting at attention, as if awaiting some sort of command -- but there's always going to be the part of them that's unable to keep from laughing. of course cruz was aware that in the beginning -- they had driven the woman fucking insane. and yet, as they had worked together in the capacity they had -- just like anyone else, they'd evolved.

LOCATION: the plaza hotel FOR: camilla caravelli

IS CRUZ WELL AWARE that they stick out in the glamour and prestige of the plaza hotel like a sore thumb? hell, perhaps the better description was to say a broken thumb. mangled, disjointed and a fucking mess. and yet, they've tried to put some amount of effort into their appearance so they didn't look like they crawled out of one of the many sewer grates in their fair city. they had the ability appear like some kind of young professional, even if they felt like three children in a trench coat. hair was still a mess, however -- never unable to be anything but wild and free.

of course, camilla is always as graceful as cruz has known her to be -- almost like a princess in her own right. of course, they're more than aware that the blonde is intelligent enough to put the pieces together on what their presence here could possibly mean -- related to either their shared business, or someone else's pleasure. in this case -- it was the latter. a guest had wanted to have some fun later, a wealthy man who had always praised cruz for their discretion, even if their mouth left little room for small talk.

LOCATION: a shitty neutral dive with a dartboard FOR: luca delano

" i know y'got this whole broodin', angsty thing goin' on... but y'haven't spoken a word in like -- too long. "

CRUZ IS NO STRANGER to dives like these. in fact, they thrive amongst the dust and the grime. amongst one man's trash -- cigarette smoke clinging to their hair and the sound of pool balls clacking together their soundtrack. they've taken a surprising liking to luca -- because cruz found themselves far from the kind of being who stuck around the fighters of the mob. that is, when they weren't getting themselves into some bullshit. then, then she needed them. and yet.... there was a sort of odd, unspoken understanding.

forearms lean against the bar as they make an attempt to catch their attention, before their hand raises in luca's line of sight, with a birdlike whistle. " yoohoo -- hey there space cadet, wanna come down t'planet earth? 'cause i need a partner for'a game of darts. " now that they can see that she has his attention, a glimmer of chaos seems to make itself apparent, excited by the prospect of what was to come the rest of the evening.

hands come to rest on their chin as their lips coil upwards into a small, fortold to be cocky smile. perhaps because they know that deep down, there's a competitive streak that's quite literally woven into the mob's dna. " c'mooooooon, pretty please? loser buys drinks the rest'a the night. and you know me... mama didn't raise a bitch. "

LOCATION: sinatra's jazz bar FOR: stella visconti

" oh my goodness, don't you just look stunning! "

OF COURSE, ROXANNE IS well aware that she's late. red-bottom shoes hit the floor with haste that is uncharacteristic for the otherwise confident charmer -- maybe because she actually liked stella, quite a bit. effort was made in relationships like these, and she didn't want to let any of them go to waste. especially someone as magnetic as stella. alongside her fellow hitmen, they were thicker than thieves in a way that only people who lived their lives could be.

the woman adjusts her dress before she begins her strut down the aisle, finding a sense of warmth as she feels several pairs of eyes on her. good attention, bad attention -- it didn't quite matter. regardless, it held no relevance in this moment. all of her focus was on her collegue in the nearby booth.

LOCATION: aslan's office, mid-afternoon FOR: aslan durmaz

" have i ever disappointed you before, boss? consider it done. "

ROXANNE IS POISED EVER so elegantly across from the noble boss of the cavalry, glossed lips poised in a gentle smirk as she ever so curiously awaits his response -- the hum of the air conditioning unit their only soundtrack of their weekly pas de deux. of course she knows the answer -- no, never. for some of the most dangerous things come in some of the most glamorous of packages.

she knows that she's the frequent choice to take on more high-profile hits, especially when it came to high-profile men. like a black widow, she would catch them in the magnetism of her web -- with words as sweet as honey on her breath. so much so, that their eventual demise would have come as a complete surprise. clean, quick and with minimal mess. would allow for easy cleanup for all parties who found themselves involved.

adjusting her legs coated in black nylon tights -- a small bubble from her gum breaks the dam created by closed lips. he had always been a difficult one to read -- something that had taken even her by surprise, a tactic roxanne was highly capable of in her expansive career. mysterious, brooding and dark.

LOCATION: high caliber, late evening FOR: miray durmaz

AH, THERE WAS SOMETHING weirdly peaceful about the range in the evening. so much more room to focus -- with little interruptions and not a single distraction. after all of these years being away from the suffocating clutches of her father ( in fact, roxanne finds the idea of any man having any kind of control over her suffocating ) -- she's replaced his militance in her youth with a calm rhythm, the sound of the firing weapon causing nearly no reaction.

and then, of course -- there were the moments where she got to sneak behind the iorn curtain, and come face to face with her favorite supplier. there was nothing roxanne adored more than a strong woman, but one who didn't command respect; the feeling took to her like static drew one close.

LOCATION: crimson velvet FOR: achillas zubair

JUST LIKE ANY OF the other dancers within the walls of the crimson velvet, roxanne was mentally preparing herself for anything but a quiet night. makeup littering her station in a manner that appears to be a far cry from her polished appearance -- a glass of red positioned ever so casually to the left side. as if her eyes were not aglow already, silver glitter and lacquered eyelashes illuminate them even further as she reaches for her wine red lipstick, the finishing touch -- that is, until a member of the security team calls to her from the doorframe. someone's here t'see ya, roxy.

" patience is a virtue, darlin'. they can wait. " the woman hums, eyes not yet deviating from her reflection as she finishes applying the final piece to her look. she would never give someone the luxury of gazing upon her with a face half done. and then there was the factor that her time ordinarily cost money. " never rush a lady. "