#milo001

It’s not a proud moment, but she needed to ask her parents for money. It’s happened before -- sometimes bills just catch up to her, even if she’s really careful with her budget. She knows her parents have heaps of money, and they will grudgingly help her out if need be, it’s just horrible asking. She’s already feeling pretty forlorn by the time she makes it to the Xavier Institute.

She’d not called ahead to say she was coming, but since she grew up there nobody gives her a hard time about going in even if she’s not a student. It’s around lunchtime, so she guesses they’ll be in the dining hall -- and they are, with a guy about Tiffany’s age, and they look so engrossed in the conversation. 

She could go over. But, she can’t. They’re talking to him like they should be talking to her; enthusiastic smiles, laughing kindly at the things he says, nodding. At one point her dad even claps him on the back, like you can just imagine him calling the guy ‘champ’ or something. It makes Tiffany feel queasy. Obviously he’s a mutant, and obviously that alone is enough for them to show more interest in him than they’ve shown in Tiffany for years. She can remember, vaguely, hopeful times when they thought she might develop a mutation.

It had been just two days since Pestilence had sat in the theatre Iniya had bought for them and watched Priscilla Rubin get shot in the head for her betrayal. It was pointed, a clear message, and yet somehow managed to stink of desperation. Now that they were under Death’s thumb, sold out by Charlotte, they were clinging on to whatever control they felt they had left through drastic measures that apparently included public executions. It was unnerving to see the family she'd once had great faith in unravel so rapidly, but more unnerving still was the text they’d received that morning instructing them to report to Milo Pierce, the executioner himself, in his office at PEST.

The last time Iniya had been summoned to their Seraphim’s office alone, it was to receive the news that she was being promoted to Power after the purchase of the theatre. Somehow, they doubted that they’d be getting good news again. Chances were the meeting was to assign her a task to complete or give a status update on her money laundering operations, but it did feel distinctly as though they were being called to the headmaster’s office for some form of punishment. Knuckles rapping sharply on his door, they waited for confirmation before entering, sitting in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. She took a moment to arrange herself carefully, back straight and hands neatly clasped on their lap, before clearing their throat. “So, what can I do for you?”

One thing was to be said about Pestilence - they were good at shutting people out.

Of course, that was of no help to May, who had been digging around for quotes and information surrounding the company’s status since she’d planted a bomb in one of their labs. Various underlings she’d managed to corner offered next to nothing, too low down the totem pole to know anything other than it’s a bit fucked up. The Pinketts themselves had ignored all her requests for an interview, which may well have had something to do with the onslaught of online abuse she’d been hurling at FemEn over the past few days, but hey, she couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it. But all of this meant that in all her sheer, insufferable curiosity, May was reaching for a last resort, and attempting to open a door which hadn’t been opened in roughly seventeen years.

Saying the words I need you to get a message to Milo Pierce had felt strange, like singing along to a song you used to know but only remembering half of the lyrics. At one time it had been her intention to repair the damage she’d done, but upon returning to London in 2011 and discovering her old friend firmly in bed with the Pinketts, she had turned her back, unsure that she wanted to get reacquainted with a person willing to sell themselves so easily. A few months shy of ten years later, and there she was, thrusting an olive branch into an inferno and blindly hoping she wouldn’t get burned. It did not sit right with her that the circumstances of their reunion were going to be because she needed a favour, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

May lurked among the shelves of the history section of the library, staring at the pages of a book about the French Revolution without really seeing. It didn’t feel worth it to sit down. If he showed up at all, it was doubtful that this meeting would last long, and at any rate she didn’t want to be out in the open. It was just as the thought that he wasn’t going to show entered her head that he appeared suddenly at the end of the aisle and approached. Her prepared greeting of thank you for agreeing to meet with me died on her lips as her eyes took him in, trying to match the man before her to the teenager she’d left behind. Frequently over the years she had wondered how it would feel to see him again, but in those moments where her thoughts were tangled in the past, she had never anticipated just how much guilt would return. Her throat ached, one sudden, hard throb which she chose to ignore, and she cleared her throat as she closed the book in her hands.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to come.” 

there was no secret that there was someone after the people in talia's life. her team had mentioned fears for her own life, that she should move or hire projection, but talia feigned innocence that these killings were all unrelated to her and it was just freak coincidences. first it was her competitor on social media, then her ex-boyfriend, slowly people around her disappearing and winding up dead. police had no leads, there were no speculations. but talia had an idea. she could feel the eyes watching her, though she didn't know who they belonged to. frankly, talia didn't care. she loved the attention, the idea that someone was going to great lengths for her attention, to take care of her. more than most it seemed. that night she's alone in her apartment, blinds on her window open, balcony door unlocked. was it crazy and unsafe? absolutely, but something in talia loved the idea, loved the risk. she steps out from her bathroom, hair wet from her shower, skin soft and slick, towel wrapped loosely around her before she faces the window, as if forgetting the curtains were wide open and her lights illuminated her as she let the towel drop, hopefully giving whoever it was following her a good view.

The Ghostface motif was a two-person job. There really was just no way around it. James focused on all the violence and Milo focused it into an obsession with Talia. Milo had been her friend for so long and was constantly overlooked for more appealing guys. That was where James came in. He got closer to her, able to ease his way into being her boyfriend because he was also an influencer. It was a different genre than Talia's content, but he was still popular and rich nonetheless.

They watched her closely, Milo in full costume and James in his normal clothing just in case she tried to find a friendly face. It was easy enough to get a key to her home when the killing started, playing the concerned partner bit. They watched her little show until James rang her doorbell before letting himself in with a key while Milo waited outside. "Babe, it's just me! Come on down and we'll watch a movie." He got her settled on the couch with a wine cooler and a blunt, putting on an old horror movie. "It's alright... I know how stressful this all is." James was letting her get good and faded, pulling her into his lap once she had a couple wine coolers along with the weed. He coaxed her into removing her pajamas, chuckling a bit at how faded she was. James simply held her until she passed out, kissing the top of her head. It was time to play the game.

James let Milo into the house, gesturing toward Talia on the couch. They tied James to a chair from the kitchen, setting him up across from the couch she was sleeping on. Once everything was set, Milo pulled Talia into his lap so her back was against his chest. There was another old horror movie on the TV and James started struggling in his binds as Milo woke her up. He held a knife to her throat, teasing her pussy with his fingers as he gestured for her to just watch the movie as if nothing was happening. They didn't give her enough time to sleep it off, simply adding the grogginess of just waking up to how much she'd smoked and drank.

really the reason she was with james was just for her fame, for her follower count. made for great content, upped her followers, and well it worked well enough. she wasn't absolutely in love with him but he served a purpose, so when he asked for a house key she didn't see the harm in it, at least he could come and go as he pleased. and it seems like...well tonight he was ruining her plans to put on a show from her bedroom window for whom was ever stalking her, she was so sure that someone was. "coming." she calls out a bit annoyed and quickly dresses, paying no mind to what she's actually wearing. it was just james after all. bored, she lets james smoke her out, sips on the wine coolers a bit too quickly, the heaviness of the weed working it's way through her system as she pays no mind to what's on screen, instead falling into james arms, letting sleep over take her. and then it feels like a heavy dream, james's hand moving down her body, something slipping against her neck and she shifts. "james..." she mumbles, eyes fluttering open to see a new movie on the tv, and then james. across from her. tied up. wait that wasn't right. why was...she tries to sit up but she's feeling too heavy. and there was...something against her...someone else behind her. fingers moving down her front, sliding into her underwear, already soaking wet as the strangers fingers move and she can't help but moan lightly under the touch. "who...what.." she shifts, stiffen as she feels the blade, heartbeat quickening.

James makes a show of struggling in the chair, making it clear that he's fighting to get to her. They made sure that Milo tied him down securely, wanting to ensure that she could inspect his bounds up close without seeing anything.

Milo spoke up to her groggy questions, using the voice changer in his mask to hide his identity. "What's the matter, whore? You were so clearly teasing me earlier... You wanted my attention." He chuckled as James struggled at Milo's taunting, hand moving away from Talia's pussy to grope her breast. "You're such a good little performer, so it's only fair your little boyfriend gets to see it." He grabbed the second blunt James had rolled, lighting it and holding it to her lips. Milo knew she was already faded, but the plan was to keep her that way. James had stocked them up before he was bound, leaving plenty of weed and wine coolers nearby to keep her from getting too clever.