𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓:
Murder worked better than mascara
(1927)

TW: Mentions of murder, killings, gore, death, and rape

GENESIS' red lips release an annoyed huff as she places the rim of the glass filled with old forester whiskey on her lips, the liquid gliding smoothly on her tongue with a hint of its bittersweet taste that she had gotten used to.

She was outfitted in a gorgeous gold sequined flapper with fringe that made her dark skin glow in the dim red light of the bar and a matching feather headband that wrapped around her forehead, her face was done up in true flapper style, and luscious black hair was wavy and pinned back, a long diamond necklace wrapped around her neck.

Genesis placed the glass on the table as her red lipstick stained the rim of the glass. She drummed her fingers against the bar. The sound of the singer hitting high notes is muted in the background as she focuses her hearing on the man at the other side of the bar talking about the bets he made and won, with two women glued to his lap that are wearing enough colourette in their faces to cover a damn bare white wall.

Kingsley James is married to an ill wife, a father of two, a not-so-loving husband, and most of all, a businessman who just suid a black family for stepping inside his shop—the whole family was put to jail, and last time she heard it they were not treated well in prison.

To Genesis. She could just compel this entire bar and kill Kingsley in an instant. Still, when they are consequences of being dealt with—meaning the victims she is trying to avenge get caught up in her schemes, she has to calculate her moves, take on a responsibility and deal it with things in a mortal way, specifically in the legal side of the law.

"Planning bloody murder?" A voice with a thick southern drawl snapped her out of her listening as a man in a crisp black Brook Brothers jazz suit, his wrist occupied by a black and silver Rolex, and short black hair combed neatly towards the back as he removed his black fedora, placing it on his lap. Genesis' sense of smell was invaded with fresh, woody, and slightly oriental fragrance.

He sat beside her, a black leather suitcase at the bottom of his feet that wore oxford's classic black and white wingtip shoes locked in between.

Elliot Cresswell gives her a grin as he orders a drink of his own, a bourbon.

"You bet." Genesis replies with an accent of her own, french, and she never did want it to fade. She wanted something that would make her remember her humanity and her life in northern France that would ground her on earth between what is right and good.

A smirk formed on her plump red lips.

"Any luck?" He asks, taking a sip of his drink as he sighs in contentment, placing it back on the bar.

Elliot gives her an expectant look.

Genesis shrugs, looking back at Kingsley with disgust as the man shoved his tongue into the girl's mouth that is sitting on his lap.

"None so far, but that wouldn't stop me." Genesis answers as the bartender refills her drink. Genesis looks at him with a dazzling smile as both of their pupils dilate, "Go away," She compels ever so sweetly. The bartender nods, moving to the other end of the bar.

Elliot chuckles. "Nothing could stop you, not even Stefan Salvatore." He gives her a challenging brow as Genesis releases a low groan.

Stefan Salvatore. A man she met last year, he was charming, with his humanity turned off. Genesis rolled her eyes at the thought of him. Just thinking about what Stefan Salvatore told her yesterday, that maybe they were too different from each other, that she was too much, he didn't say it in that way. Still, it was hinting—indicating in his use of words and tone that Genesis' personality was too much for him to handle.

His loss.

How was she supposed to know that murdering a group of confederate supporters and leaving their bodies at the entrance of the police station with an "I am racist, rapist, and a homophobe" placard wrapped around their necks wasn't his thing?

So much judgment from a man who murdered his own father.

Even without his humanity on, he still has his limits, and Genesis did that with her humanity on. How coward of him.

At least what she did was do some justice. Who knows what they could've done? Or what they had done to the families they falsely accused of theft and terrorism allegations, even the women they raped.

They stole a person's life, too, and robbed them of hope for a better future. Anyone could have done what Genesis did when they're a vampire with enhanced hearing and can compel a person to enlist their deepest darkest secrets.

She did the bare minimum. A fight to do the right thing. To let the victims' family have peace, knowing that the people who wronged their loved one is dead and murdered in cold blood and brought to shame when their bodies are left for the public to see.

The news is buzzing with life. Politicians on a suicide pack because guilt had eaten their souls and a written confession of their sins, and a copy sent to every news outlet, of course, they're not guilty.

Bad people never feel guilty, at least in Genesis' case.

It's the not-so-legal side of her deal with Elliot, but he didn't really mind.

Elliot was going clean, whatever clean means in a lawyer's vocabulary, meaning not winning cases of corrupt and horrible clients in his favor.

That's when Genesis barged into his life—in a literal sense, and she barged into his office, making a deal for them to begin a partnership, perfect timing, he might say.

He was seeking redemption at the time of the cases, and he won so easily for bad people that don't deserve to walk freely in the streets—when he was human, mistakes were made.

But as a vampire that was turned in the year 1838, he was stuck at the endless pit of guilt for decades, couldn't take on any cases, until Genesis came to him like a devil in disguise of an angel when she told him her conditions back in 1921.

They were partners ever since that blossomed into a beautiful friendship.

Genesis Ackerman heard of Elliot Cresswell, of course, the lawyer who dominated the courtroom and won every case that was given to him but disappeared for decades until Genesis found him. She wanted the best of the best regarding her plans, and Elliot Cresswell fitted the role of a good lawyer.

He instantly agreed. Genesis brings him clients—victims, and background information that could help support the case. In return, he must defend them with everything in his might and win the case and bring them justice.

Tomorrow, Genesis will bail out the family that Kingston put in jail. And she needed to make sure that it didn't happen twice.

There isn't arsenic that couldn't fix and finish the job once and for all. And it works wonders. The coroner's office always suspects it was an alcohol overdose or alcohol poisoning. She used her magic once. Well, she just prefers the mortal way of murdering men. It's much more thrilling and exciting.

Honestly, murder works better than mascara.

"I want to end this dull night already," Genesis says with a sigh as she stands up. She has been feeling an itch that someone was watching her, which is never good, and she wants to go home. Elliot prepares himself as he sits straightened his back, excitement glittered in his black eyes.

"Show time." Elliot grins as he cracks his knuckles, chugging down his bourbon.

Genesis then pretends to drunkenly walk towards the bathroom with a hazy look on her face, and she stumbles towards Kingsley and his women. It all happened so fast that they didn't notice her slip the liquid arsenic in Kingsley's champagne. The two women in his lap stood abruptly, shrieking, looking at Genesis annoyingly.

Elliot then came from behind, sweeping Genesis and holding her waist. He looks at them with false apologeticness and embarrassment, "My apologies, ladies, gentleman. My fiancée had too much to drink for the night," as he carries her in his arms. At the same time, Genesis wrapped her arms around his neck, mumbling drunkenly in his chest.

"Learn to control your bitch, then," Kingsley grumbles out as he takes a sip of champagne. Elliot hides a smirk creeping its way to his face. "Again, my apologies," Elliot says with a slight bow of his head. Turning around and heading towards the exit, he hears Genesis snicker.

"Let's see if he can say bitch when his mouth is foaming with his saliva."

The next day, Kingsley James was found in his car, dead.

Author's Note:
— Elliot Cresswell, everyone!
— The line "murder worked better than mascara" is inspired from the book 'Murder for the modern girl' by Kendall Kulper. Read it it's an amazing book set in the 1920's!