Alone with Him [Prada/Dela]

Despite her reputation around HQ, one of the Rune Knight's laziest members was doing exactly what was expected of her, which she did more than people realized. Being in the Spec Ops branch lent itself nicely to her secretive ways, and while she admittedly used the resources more for her own devices than she did in the interest of her employers, she did still go out of her way to do her job when she had enough information to do so. In this case, in her normal wandering and information gathering, she'd come across several leads here and there about a certain brazen dark mage. His name was Prada. He was a menace. He didn't really try to conceal his dealings, yet the Rune Knights could never get near him. Though Dela rarely volunteered her extensive knowledge on most goings on in Fiore to the RK unless she was pressed, this particular whisper was too crisp and clear to leave alone.

It took time, though. Once Dela put her mind to something and committed, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her specialty was to infiltrate places no lawman should be within one thousand meters of, other than to raid it. It was like watching a chameleon at play, the way she could transform herself into whatever role she needed to play to get into the place she needed to be. One would think such a thing would be easier for someone of plain looks and with not her striking blonde hair and tropical oceanic blues, but it was almost as if her blonde hair was a veil. There were a ton of blondes all over the world, and the pale hair had the tendency to attract the eye and imagination, but not be so notable that her face would be committed to memory. She was just another cute blonde, one of many. In fact, she was one of a matching set to further diminish her uniqueness, not than anyone had seen Elle. With the right outfit, right persona, right accent, right researched backstory, Dela could become anyone and darn near get in anywhere. Why, she got into the Rune Knights immediately after quitting a dark guild with no problem at all, did she not?

If her information about Prada was correct, and it was, then she could predict his next location. Not many law enforcement officers had even heard of the Silk Road, let alone knew where it was. For this operation, Dela had to do the long con. A month and a half before the auction, she settled her sights on an older mob boss who had recently lost his arm candy girlfriend to his upstart son. Capitalizing on his dented ego, once more her flaxen hair caught the eye of a prideful, rich scumbag who didn't want to be that pathetic old man who wasn't getting any even though he could certainly afford it. It was pathetically easy to fill the bimbo void in his life and just be shown off to other wrinkly old friends, other than for his...more pointed expectations. Lucky for her, most men tune out in health class and literally cannot fathom how the female reproductive system works without intense terror and avoidance, so being on her monthly for a month straight raised no flags other than the one of horny frustration and surprisingly patient hope that her promises of "later" would be worth it. Her promises were about to run out in more ways than one.

She'd been seated in the masked crowd, bosoms pressed up against the chunky arm of her temporary sugar daddy as she laughed at every unfunny joke and begged for overpriced snacks. He'd dressed her up in a slinky black number to offset his gleaming white suit. True to his perverted ways and general obsession with her body, what little it did cover was so tight it might as well been her painted skin. From the way he had her dripping in gold and diamonds, she wondered if she was the intended payment for items that caught his eye, but no, he just liked his women as superficial and flashy as possible.

Her eyes scanned for her target, and sure enough, he stood out like a bedazzled sore thumb. No mask. Brazen as an unbroken stud. She smirked in satisfaction, but the hard part of the job had only just begun. It was one thing to spot him, but entirely another to initiate a takedown. Dela wasn't a combat mage of any substance. Sneaking, bargaining, deep undercover work, information brokering, all those she could do. But when the stuff hit the fan, it was time for her to get outta dodge. She had a team of Rune Knights expertly hidden outside. Normally she'd be wired for communication, but the Silk Road cut no corners. Somehow, someway, she needed to get close enough to plant a tracker on him which would light up as soon as he stepped foot out of here. Then her job was done. If it was fumbled from there, it was hardly her fault.

The auction progressed and then suddenly got spicy. The goldmake wasn't a surprise, but apparently it was to the security. She watched as people died right before their eyes, but she hardly batted one single glued, gaudy eyelash. In the chaos and screams of escaping criminals, no one would hear her, but Dela snickered as the MC tried to call for the Rune Knights. It always amused her how criminals would call for the law to the scene of their own crimes when they felt threatened. The very people they defied, hated, and killed were suddenly the only people they could trust to save their sorry hides, even at the expense of some potential jail time. It was also ironic that there was already a Rune Knight here, hanging back and watching, waiting for her moment to get close.

Her date wanted to run too, of course, but there was a reason she picked him. His sex drive overrode any sense of self-preservation he had. All she had to do was turn to him, smoosh her cleavage up a little extra, and pour on some waterworks and charm. "But, Daadddyyyyy!" she wailed in a high pitched whine, tugging on his arm to get him to stay back. "I really, really wanted that egg! You aren't gonna let this little s*** take it from the big, bad Hercule Bladdstone, are you? If I don't have it, I just don't think I'll be in the mood tonight, Daddy! I'll be soooo disappointed, my little heart can have nothing else!  Please!" she begged, fluffing his ego and speaking to his smaller, dumber head. He was tempted but hesitating. Now for the kicker. "Jimmeson wouldn't back down..."

Oooh noo, his son wasn't stealing another one of his toys! Not one that was finally about to put out if he could just get her this dragon egg! Besides, heck yeah he was Hercule Bladdstone, the richest mob boss in Shirotsume! Taking her hand, he puffed out his chest and stalked his way up toward the stage. "Just who do you really think you are?" he asked, taking the thick cigar from his lips for just such an occasion. These were serious talks, after all, and he was falsely secure in his own bodyguards who faithfully came up behind him, despite the golden statue reminders. "I'm buying my woman that item. You can't just waltz in here and take whatever you please for free! Even among us crimelords, there's order and decency to uphold," he chastised Prada.

Knowing this would go horribly, Dela slipped her hand from his and clacked her way out of the immediate danger zone. She observed Prada, wondering if he could read her face. The expression she had there was one that any mob bimbo would have. Disloyalty. The look of approval a woman like the one she was playing could give a vastly superior option. Prada had more jewel, more power, and unquestioningly better looks. If he said the word, she'd jump at the opportunity to be on his arm and in his bed. The ditziness of her character would be oblivious to the danger (no one would kill a pretty, easy woman, riiiight) and mask her clearly absent fear of death. Dela stepped toward the egg and wrapped her affectionate hands around it, planting a clear, discreet tracker on it as she did so. Not waiting for him to gild her, she picked it up and came to stand at his side. "Who cares about rules? Let's go," she said to Prada with a smile, betraying her old man for the new one. Shooting her shot. If she could just get Prada to bite or at least revel in Hercule's wounded hissy fit, she'd get a tracker on him and could get out of here before she was killed...again. It was always a risky gamble, but with her situation, there were very few situations where the worst case scenario for everyone else wasn't just another way out for her.


[wc: 1520 || Thread Total: 2527]

"I did, of course, Tête de noeud," she sassed, eyeing the spear just in time. Dying here on the platform wouldn't have been a bad way to get out of further trouble, but she hadn't planted that tracker on him yet. If he ditched the egg quickly, then this would be a rather large waste of her time, and if there was anything the lazy girl hated more, it was wasted effort when she did decide to spend it. Instead of a graceful backbend out of the way like most spies would do, she avoided the jab with a knee-jerk fall, landing right on her butt with the egg still clutched tightly. She wasn't ready to give up her game yet. Sure, the Minstrelois slip up had just jumped out of her, drawn out by just how truly dickheaded this man was and the shock of such a quick kill attempt, but bimbos could be sassy and know a few Minstrelois insults, right? "Eeeey! Watch it with that thing! You almost impaled me," she gasped in dim misunderstanding, letting out a laugh as if she thought it was an accident. "Save the spear-poking for later, yeah? Geez," Dela smiled, getting back to her feet with a wobble.

Holding the egg out like a shield, she hoped he'd reach out for it. She'd strike then, as a last effort to get the tracker on him before calling off this whole thing. Out of all the bad character traits in Prada's file, they'd missed his hurry to off anyone he encountered that was the least bit of a minor inconvenience and his immunity to pretty girls. What a brat. Dela knew she was already being far too hopeful that she'd get another chance unless she could entice him somehow. "Aren't you interested in me at all? Just this egg? That seems awfully boring to only take stuff and not the women throwing themselves at you, you know? I hope I didn't get all gussied up for no reason," she said, stepping closer. "Take me and the egg and whatever else. I can't stand the sight of that old guy who's been pawing me all day. I'm sure we'd have a good time, if even for a day, somewhere nice."

[wc: 377 || thread total: 3650]

What was it with bad guys monologuing? She was freakin standing there with an egg that costed more than what she'd have in her entire life in her hands, offering herself to him and...he starts just jabbering away. Trying to keep her bright, bimbo eyes from returning to their cynical selves and rolling back into her head took a level of control that only a seasoned infiltrator would have, but it was only barely enough. This Prada guy was a piece of work indeed. Yeah, yeah, no good nobody, right, she was gonna die. Mhm, heard it all before. Couldn't there be a villain didn't have an inflated sense of self for a change? Did they all have to be narcissists and/or psychopaths? At this point, she'd give up pizza for a week just to run into a bad guy that wasn't utterly hatable, that maybe did his super-villainy stuff because he had a sick wife or kid, or just had self-esteem issues and murderous plunder made him feel like he was worth something...mix it up a little....

Then Prada broke his speech earlier than she anticipated. The motion was so fast that she'd missed it, but then it was all too clear. When she'd said she couldn't stand Hercule anymore, she hadn't really been considering what that would imply. Empty horror filled her as she realized she might have gotten him killed, though logic and reasoning told her he was doomed anyway. It still felt like her fault, and from several different angles, it was. If she hadn't been Hercule's date and pushed her luck trying to get trackers on things, he probably would have escaped with the rest of the underground auction attendees. The man was gross, old, and a total skeeze, but...watching him die like that wasn't easy for her, someone who was supposed to serve and protect. Dela had seen some things in her long life, many of which were highly unpleasant, but this one was just so senseless and gory that she had to avert her eyes.

Now they were alone and he was materializing a throne. Ah, there was the rest of the monologue. Dela zoned out a little, mulling over her own plan of action. Prada was stronger than her sources had revealed, so at this point, it looked like death was her best option. The others in her operation should hopefully be pulling out since she'd given them a time limit. If she wasn't either dead or out of there in ten minutes, it was safe to assume she'd failed at least part of it and they should save themselves. Dela wasn't a big fan of collateral damage on her missions. While she had the benefit of a lot more detail than most, it wasn't always 100% reliable. Like now.

Where was he in the monologue? Right, the glory days of his youth. The Rune Knight simply watched as the magic circles and chains appeared around her. She didn't even flinch. It was too fast, plus she wasn't a very combat-focused operative. Nothing she had in her very limited arsenal would help her in any way, so the best she could do was hold still as she was wrapped up and held still. "I mean, really, I clearly wasn't trying to run," she muttered under her breath, letting her assumed persona melt off of her. He went on. Something about respect. Something about piss...what was it with narcissists and piss? Where they dogs, feeling like they wanted to hike their legs and just shower anything they did or didn't like in pee to show superiority or dominance? Now that she thought about it, it probably had something to do with guys and their dicks. There'd been quite a few predictably narcissist women she'd taken down in these types of operations, but they never touted that stuff they squatted and peed on was worth any more or less than anything else.

Feeling as if her eyes would roll so far back that they came back around again if she listened to him any more, Dela sighed heavily and silently thanked whatever was up in the heavens he finally shut up. "God, I thought that was never gonna end," she said, her voice distinctly different. Gone was the purposefully vapid, nasally tone, and instead her slightly deadpan one replaced it. "Please, save me if you have any more of whatever you were gobbing on about and I will definitely thank you with my last breath. I'll truly be honored if the way things ought to be is silent," Dela said, staring him right in the eyes with a bored expression. "One of these days, I'm going to monologue too. Equal opportunity monologuing for the hero, the villain, and the innocent bystander. Everyone gets to go on a tangent about how they want everyone to really feel about them and why their pasts justify it, and then by the time everyone is done boredom is so palpable that the killer has fallen asleep and everyone gets to die another day."

Yeah, he wasn't bad looking, but it was his personality that made him repulsive. She wondered if he knew that. And she didn't just mean the whole killing people and stealing whatever crap, but his actual personality, the one who thought it looked cool to make a throne of gold to sit on while he declared everyone around him were filthy nobody pig bacteria beasts. "Wait, am I a filthy nobody, pig, bacteria, or beast? You gotta pick one for consistency's sake," she critiqued, looking thoughtful. "Maybe you should write these things down and rehearse beforehand, to make sure your degrading comes off as somewhat thoughtful."

[wc: 951 || total: 6000]