Share
MidReal Story
Master Thief Kael
Anonymous
Mar 24
Scenario:eu era um especialista em disfarces e decido testar isso me disfarçao de minha irma sara 12 anos usando um skinsuit do corpo e cara dela e tenhos outras peles ana filha de um guarda vamos ver que outra menina vou ser
Create my version of this story
Kael
first_person_protagonist, male. He is a skilled impersonator and thief. He is cunning, resourceful, and determined. Kael uses his skills to infiltrate a party by disguising himself as a young girl. He steals a valuable gemstone and encounters Ana, whose skin he already has. Kael's mission is complex due to a traitor among his group and the presence of powerful guards. He is motivated by both personal gain and family obligations.
Ana
side_character, female. She is the daughter of a guard. She is protective, intelligent, and cautious. Ana has a skin used by Kael to impersonate her appearance. She initially distrusts Kael when he approaches her at the party. Her father's presence adds to the tension, as Kael aims to steal from him to fulfill his mission.
Jelena
side_character, female. She is a skilled thief within Kael's group. She is brave, resourceful, and perceptive. Jelena helps Kael navigate the party by identifying potential threats and offering suggestions. Her ability to think on her feet is crucial in their daring plan to steal from under the guards' noses.
I stared at myself in the mirror, not quite able to believe my own reflection.
I was a master of disguise, and I had just put on my best skinsuit yet: one that looked just like my twelve-year-old sister Sara’s body and face.
I had other skins, too: one belonged to a girl named Ana, the daughter of one of the guards at the enemy stronghold where I currently was.
I had taken her skin from her bathroom that morning, and I had other skins for a few of the other girls who lived here, too.
But right now, I was Sara.
And not just any Sara: Sara in a fancy dress with a low back and a skirt that flared out at the hips, perfect for easy running…or quick access to my knives.
"Kael," a soft voice said behind me.
I turned and saw my sister coming into the room.
She was carrying a small box and looking anxious.
"Sara."
I smiled and went over to her.
Not that she knew me as Kael, the skilled thief who had just escaped from the enemy’s stronghold; to her, I was just her big brother.
"Hey," I said, taking the box from her.
"What’s this?"
"It’s your mask," she said, looking around nervously.
"I wasn’t able to find any more skins for you to use. I’m sorry."
"It’s okay," I said, smiling at her.
She was so innocent and naive; she had no idea what I really did or how I looked without my disguise.
I opened the box and examined the mask.
It was a perfect replica of her face, down to the tiny freckles on her nose and the scar she had gotten when she fell off her bike last summer.
I turned it over in my hands, testing the elastic that would hold it in place.
The material was cool against my fingertips, and I knew that it would be lightweight and comfortable to wear.
"Thank you," I said, smiling at her.
"You’re welcome," she said, smiling back at me.
"I’m glad you like it."
"I do," I said.
"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for my date."
"Okay," she said, nodding.
"Have fun."
I watched as she left the room, then turned back to the mirror.
I carefully placed the mask over my face, making sure that it lined up perfectly with the neckline of the skinsuit.
The seams disappeared as the mask bonded with the rest of the disguise, creating a seamless illusion. I adjusted my dress and took a step back to admire myself in the mirror.
The mask was perfect: it captured every detail of Sara’s face, from the shape of her eyes to the curve of her lips.
I practiced a few of her expressions in front of the mirror: the way she tilted her head when she was confused, the way she bit her lip when she was nervous.
I could feel myself becoming her, slipping into her skin like a second self.
There was a knock at the door and I heard a guard’s voice calling out to me.
"Miss Sara! Are you ready?"
"Yes," I called back.
"I’ll be right there!"
I quickly hid the empty box under my bed and smoothed out my dress one last time.
As I opened the door, the guard gave me a scrutinizing look.
"Your father wants to see you before you leave," he said, his voice gruff but respectful.
"My father?" I replied, feigning surprise while my heart raced; this was not part of the plan.
"Yes," the guard said, gesturing for me to follow him.
"He’s in his office."
I nodded and followed the guard down the hallway, trying to maintain Sara’s delicate walk pattern: shorter steps, slight hip sway, hands clasped demurely in front of me.
The guard’s heavy footsteps echoed off the marble floor, and I concentrated on matching my pace to his.
He glanced back at me twice, and both times I responded with one of Sara’s shy smiles.
The rustle of my dress against the marble floor was the only other sound as we walked down the dimly lit corridor.
We passed several closed doors, each one adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to leap out from the shadows.
The air was thick with the scent of old wood and dust, and I could feel the weight of history bearing down upon us. As we turned a corner, I caught a glimpse of a security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling.
Its cold gaze swept over us as we passed beneath it, and I mentally mapped its location for future reference.
Another camera was positioned at the far end of the corridor, its lens trained on the door to my father’s office.
The guard stopped in front of that door and checked his communicator before knocking softly.
After a moment, he opened the door and motioned for me to enter.
As I stepped inside, I heard him mutter something into his comms device before closing the door behind me.
My heart raced as I tried to make sense of this sudden change in plans.
Had my cover been blown?
Or was this some kind of test?
I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on the present moment.
Whatever happened next, I had to be ready. As soon as the guard closed the door behind me, I quickly reached up to adjust my voice modulator; it was hidden beneath the high collar of my dress, and I could feel it pressing against my neck.
I had programmed it to mimic Sara’s voice perfectly, but there was always a chance that something could go wrong.
"Sara," my father said, looking up from his desk with a stern expression.
"I need to know if you’ve seen anything unusual around the estate lately."
I hesitated, knowing this was a critical moment.
I sat rigidly in the leather chair across from "father’s" mahogany desk, keeping my hands folded in my lap like Sara always does.
The office was dimly lit, with heavy curtains blocking out most of the sunlight.
The walls were lined with dark wood panels, and the air was thick with the scent of old books and cigar smoke.
I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together in front of him.
"Unusual?"
I repeated, forcing myself to blink slowly as I tried to mimic Sara’s thoughtful expression.
"Yes," he said, his voice firm but controlled.
"There have been reports of strange noises coming from the east wing at night. Have you heard anything?"
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my heart rate steady.
"I was practicing piano there earlier today," I lied, knowing that Sara took lessons in that section of the house.
"I didn’t hear anything unusual."
He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving mine.
"And you haven’t seen anyone suspicious lurking around?"
I shook my head, trying to maintain Sara’s innocent expression.
"No, father. I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary."
He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the desk as he studied me intently.
"Very well," he said finally, leaning back in his chair once more.
"You may go now." I stood up quickly, smoothing out my dress as I turned to leave.
But just as I reached the door, I heard him speak again.
"Sara?"
I turned back to face him, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Yes, father?"
He smiled slightly, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite read.
"Be careful tonight," he said softly.
"There are those who would seek to do you harm."
I nodded quickly, trying to keep my expression neutral as I turned and left the room.
As soon as the door closed behind me, I let out a shaky breath and leaned against the wall for a moment.
What had that been about?
And what did he mean by "those who would seek to do you harm"?
Was it just a threat?
Or was there something more going on here?
I pushed myself away from the wall and started walking down the hallway again, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. The guard who had escorted me to my father’s office was still standing outside the door, watching me closely as I approached him.
"Miss Sara," he said, his voice gruff but respectful.
"Your father wants me to escort you to the ball now."
I nodded, forcing myself to maintain Sara’s delicate walk pattern as I followed him down the hallway.
The guard’s heavy footsteps echoed off the marble floor, and I concentrated on matching my pace to his.
We passed several closed doors, each one adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to leap out from the shadows.
The air was thick with the scent of old wood and dust, and I could feel the weight of history bearing down upon us.
As we turned a corner, I caught a glimpse of a decorative mirror hanging on the wall.
It was an antique piece, with intricate carvings etched into the frame.
I slowed my pace slightly, pretending to adjust my dress as I glanced into the mirror.
But what I was really looking for was any sign of surveillance cameras.
I scanned the reflection carefully, searching for any telltale signs of hidden lenses or microphones.
And then I saw it: a small black dot in the corner of the mirror’s frame.
It was almost imperceptible, but I knew what it was: a camera. I continued walking down the hallway, trying not to draw attention to myself as I mentally mapped out the location of the camera.
I knew that there would be more like it throughout the estate, and I needed to be prepared if I was going to have any chance of completing my mission.
As we approached another corner, I heard the guard mutter something into his comms device.
I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but it sounded like he was receiving some kind of update from security headquarters.
I glanced back at him quickly, trying to gauge his reaction.
He looked tense, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to whatever was being relayed through his earpiece.
And then he turned his head slightly, looking in my direction as he spoke again into his comms device.
"Yes, sir," he said, his voice firm but controlled.
"I understand."
He paused for a moment, listening intently before responding once more.
"Roger that," he said finally, ending the transmission and turning back to face me. As we continued walking down the hallway, I couldn’t help but wonder what had just happened.
Had there been some kind of security breach?
Or was this simply a routine update from headquarters?
I approached the guard, mimicking Sara’s timid posture with my hands clasped in front of my dress.
"Excuse me," I said in her soft voice, "but is everything alright?"
He turned to face me, his radio still crackling with static as he studied my face intently.
His hand rested on the butt of his weapon, a habit that I had noticed among many of the guards here at the estate.
I could hear the sound of other guards rushing past us, their heavy boots clicking against the marble floor as they responded to whatever emergency had just been reported.
Through the open doors of the ballroom, I could see guests whispering to each other and glancing around nervously.
The guard hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing how much information he should share with a child.
And then he spoke, his voice low and serious.
"There has been an incident," he said, his eyes scanning the hallway behind me as if searching for any sign of danger.
"But there is no need to worry. Everything is under control."
I nodded slowly, biting my lip like Sara often did when she was anxious or uncertain.
"Are you sure?" I asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
He hesitated, glancing around before leaning closer.
"Just stay close to me, Miss Sara," he whispered, "there's more going on than you know."
I trail behind the guard through the dimly lit corridor, carefully matching Sara's shorter stride while my pulse thunders in my ears.
The guard's boots click against the marble floor, echoing off the walls as he leads me deeper into the estate.
We pass by ornate wall sconces that cast flickering shadows on the walls, and I can't help but feel a sense of unease.
My dress rustles with each step, the fabric brushing against my legs as I try to maintain a steady pace.
Two more guards pass us in the hallway, speaking in hushed tones about securing the perimeter.
I clutch my hands together like Sara does when she's nervous, and I notice the guard glancing back at me occasionally.
As we approach the ballroom's towering double doors, I can hear the distant strains of classical music and the murmur of voices.
The guard pauses, his eyes narrowing as he listens to a sudden burst of static from his earpiece, and then he turns to me with a look that makes my heart skip.
"Miss Sara," he says, his voice low and urgent, "we need to get you inside now."
I follow him through the ornate double doors and into a sea of swirling gowns and polished shoes.
The room is alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of champagne flutes.
Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting dancing patterns of light across the marble floor.
I keep my head down, mimicking Sara's shy demeanor as I weave between the guests.
The guard's hand rests near his weapon, a subtle reminder of the security that surrounds us.
We pass by tables laden with delicate hors d'oeuvres and towering centerpieces of fresh flowers.
The air is thick with the scent of perfume and the distant hint of cigar smoke.
As we make our way deeper into the ballroom, I catch glimpses of familiar faces: dignitaries, celebrities, and influential figures from around the world.
They mingle and laugh, their conversations punctuated by the occasional flash of a camera or the soft strains of music drifting from the orchestra. The guard leads me to a corner of the room where a young girl in a blue dress sits alone at a table.
She looks up as we approach, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.
It's Ana, the girl whose skin I already possess.
She watches me intently as I take my seat next to her, her gaze flicking between me and the guard who stands watchfully nearby.
I clutch my hands together nervously, trying to maintain Sara's timid posture as I scan the room for any signs of danger.
The exits are clearly marked, and I note the positions of several other guards stationed around the perimeter.
I lean close to Ana, my voice barely above a whisper as I speak.
"I want to show you something," I say, trying to channel Sara's innocent enthusiasm.
"It's upstairs in my room. I think you'll like it."
Ana raises an eyebrow, her eyes darting briefly to the guard who watches us from his post a few feet away.
"What is it?" she asks, her voice low and cautious.
I hesitate, trying to come up with a convincing excuse for us to leave the ballroom.
And then I remember the crystal butterflies that Sara had shown me earlier, their delicate wings glinting in the light of her bedroom window.
"I have a new collection," I say, my voice filled with excitement.
"Crystal butterflies. They catch the light so beautifully."
Ana's eyes widen slightly, clearly intrigued by the idea of seeing these delicate trinkets up close.
She glances at the guard again, and I can tell that she's weighing her options carefully. The guard shifts his attention briefly to a commotion at the entrance of the ballroom, where a group of guests are arguing with one of the security personnel.
I take advantage of the distraction to reach out and gently tug on Ana's sleeve.
"Come on," I whisper urgently.
"We have to go now."
Ana hesitates for a moment longer, and then she rises from her chair with a fluid motion.
Together we make our way through the crowd, our movements swift and purposeful as we head toward the marble staircase that leads up to the private quarters of the estate.
As we climb the stairs, Ana leans in close, her voice barely audible over the music below.
"Why are you really taking me up here?" she asks, suspicion lacing her words.
I glance back to ensure the guard isn't following before whispering, "There's something you need to know about tonight's incident."
I guide Ana through the dimly lit hallway, my hand gently holding hers like Sara would.
We reach a small study tucked away in a corner of the estate, its walls lined with leather-bound books and antique furniture that exudes a sense of history.
I quickly scan the room for any hidden surveillance devices, my trained eyes searching for any sign of monitoring.
Satisfied that we are alone, I lock the heavy wooden door behind us and slide the brass bolt into place.
Ana sits down in a burgundy armchair, her blue dress spreading around her like a pool of midnight sky.
She watches me intently, her arms crossed as I move away from the door.
The sound of footsteps echoes outside, but they pass by without pause, fading into the distance.
I approach Ana slowly, noticing how she tenses up slightly as I draw near.
"Ana, you need to know that the incident was staged," I say, my voice steady but urgent.
Her eyes widen in shock, and she leans forward, whispering, "Staged? By whom?"
I take a deep breath, meeting her gaze with unwavering resolve. "By your father."