#crowleysbutthole

Dude I just went over her blog.....SHE KICKS ASS! I AM SO FOLLOWING HER NOW! :D

Sinead’s theory on sleep was that it didn’t exist. And why did you need something that didn’t exist? She thought it was a pure waste of time, and time was something that Sinead was desperately in need of. Especially tonight.

It was a little after 1:00 in the morning, and Sinead got ready for her attack. Her silhouette was created from the several computer screens that confronted her in the dark room, a cigarette that loosely hung out of her mouth thinly hazing the room that mingled with loud rap music. She wore a black bra and her underwear, lazily typing away at one of the keyboards that was marked with a green post-it note. She paused as her phone that she had replaced just a few days ago gave off an alarm at 1:15.

Sinead turned it off, suddenly agile as she stabbed out her cigarette and stood up, turning off the music and throwing on her large black sweater, leggings, and flexible grip-shoes. Let’s hit it, she thought as she tucked away the Glock into her utility belt attached to her leggings and grabbed her dufflebag of supplies. And with that, Sinead exited the dirty Motel 8, nodding inconspicuously to the obviously high hostess who didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

The League didn’t exactly hide themselves, hardly living up to their counterparts. It had been simple to grab blueprints of the layout of their house and a briefing of their current security status. She simply had to make a few calls to some family “friends” and in less than a week she had brewed up a plan.

And thus the plan started to turn its wheels tonight.

The first step was to scale the wall that bordered the mansion. She pulled on her ski mask (“No matter how stereotypical, it works,” her dad always said) and avoided the security cameras as she scaled the wall. Without hesitation Sinead’s hands reached out for the top of the wall underneath the barbed wire as she thrust herself over in an arc, curling into a spinning ball as she completely cleared the barbed wire. Sinead uncurled and landed softly and soundlessly on her feet in the backyard, wasting no time as she crouch-ran to the terrace window that led to the grand salon.

With a professional speed Sinead opened the window, disarming the security alarm before opening wider than a centimeter, and then slipping inside. She hugged her body to the wall, keeping herself hidden in the shadows as she checked the study first.

Score, Sinead thought as she quietly pushed open the already cracked door to peer inside, finding the olive-skinned girl asleep in a chair. She pulled out the chloroform and rag quickly, silently tiptoeing over to the woman as she soaked the rag with the fume, only hesitating once as the woman dangerously stirred. But nothing came of it, just a rustle in the woman’s deep dreams. Sinead covered her mouth and nose quickly, knocking the woman out for a good hour or so with no change in her physical state since she was already technically unconscious. Sleep, Sinead thought as she slung the woman over her shoulder, makes you so vulnerable.

Sinead purposefully walked out the front door, purposefully was seen by the security cameras, and purposefully walked out the front gate. It had all been planned; she wanted these Avenger posers to see her leave with no sign of entry.

After she was a safe distance away she took off the suffocatingly hot ski mask and brought the unconscious leader off of her shoulder and instead slung the arm around her. She carried the woman into the Motel 8, nodding to the hostess and saying, “Too much to drink.” The hostess nodded back lazily, too high to care.

And now, it was time for the interrogation.

This

This

So I am in the process of making a customizable model of the pack house in LEAGUE verse.

That means you guys get to design your room.

Like, put in the basics where you want them.

Like that?