l.o.t.m Thoughts: Before you commence your angry rant (if you have already read my other work), this is not a highly serious project. Maybe it will be one in the future, but at the moment, it is a medication for my writer's block. There. Also, this contains an overload of AU - thus, the freedom to actually write something. But I do like the idea...

Disclaimer: I only wish I could own Twilight - heh, like everyone else. But, these OC's are mine.


Dusk's Puppet Game

By: love.of.the.moonlight

Prologue: The money isn't worth it

I only had one use for this lousy job. Stick it out with the scum of a boss I had, collect my paycheck, and leave before sunrise, without any comments. Maybe that's why the jerk took such a liking to me - I did what was asked without much of a fuss. But what else was I entitled to?

Certainly not this: having a knife centimetres from my throat, and an eager, sadistic, maniac wiling to spill my blood. The blade, rusted and dull, did not appear likely to end my life quickly. Which intended that pain was going to ensue - plentiful amounts, at that.

"He always picks the ones with the best scent," my captor commented in a spine-tingling compliment. "This will be a treat that I haven't indulged in…for fifty years, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to postpone that fantasy."

My eyes grew wide, searching the darkness frantically for his face. I sensed the hold on the knife grow tauter as I gulped in oxygen.

He jumped down from an overlying beam with an ominous smirk that sent a pleasurable thrill into my soul. "Or maybe it won't happen at all."

One: Do you speak Italian?

With my hands tucked into the pocket of my dull grey coat, I strolled away from the harbour dock back into the city. Sundown had passed an hour ago, and my job commenced in fifteen minutes. Might as well come in early and accrue some additional money, I reasoned.

The West Coast held an indescribable charm to me the first day I arrived for college. Granted, I wasn't fond of the fluctuating weather forecast, but I basked in the boundless sovereignty I had. This was my kind of location - where I had my own private space, lovely scenery, and enriching education.

I gazed up at the defined colours of the atmosphere above me. Rich indigo spread across the sky with specks of frosty silver embellishing its seemingly endless reach. I hurried along, wary to stay within the passageway that the streetlamps elucidated for me. Perhaps tonight I would finally creak those blinds to my office open.

When I arrived at scruffy building known as Donald Visseto's agency, I creaked the door open, setting off the entrance bell. "It's just me," I called to the back room where my boss lounged all night, while I shrugged out of my jacket, setting it on the coat rack.

"Gotcha," he responded faintly. "I'll be out for a bit…just maintain the phones and such." The back door slammed behind him.

I settled into my black leather office chair, pulled the headset out from the desk drawer, and then attached it to the debonair processor I couldn't even trust existed in an uninviting place like this. Danny Visseto - not Donald Visseto - always had such lavish commodities inside…but never bothered to restore the outside. This puzzled me, but I disregarded it, pressing the power button to activate the computer.

Danny Visseto was my boss - a few years older than me, perhaps, but vile, immature, and possessing sinister good looks. He attended my university, advertising the open secretary position at his father's business to anyone in his view. I happened to be unfortunate and desperate enough to hear and accept the position in my literature class. The looks the other girls gave me the rest of the day were almost intolerable.

This was my fourth day on the job. Work was sluggish - no more than three people called a night, so I opened my Internet browser to play online pool. After the first three days perfecting my skills on a practice table, I felt confident enough to join a social table. But the question was, which one?

Music fans. Looking for a relationship. Highly competitive. Night owls. Those four links along with almost a millions specific tables that I couldn't quite fit into appeared to be taunting me. Maybe it would be better to stick to my safe little practice table…

Before I could aim with my mouse, a small window popped up onto my screen. Senseless Shadows would like to invite LitJewel913 to their table. Yes, the screen name I chose was highly laughable. It was better than some other names girls in my dormitories had chosen.

"Why not?" I reasoned aloud, clicking on "okay". A new table came to my screen, giving first move to me. I took aim, held down my right mouse button, and pulled back on the mouse pad. A satisfactory two balls made it in.

Nice shot - typed"Senseless Shadows". Do you play often?

Well, not so much online. I played a few times growing up, but was never quite good, I replied while he scored four. My jaw dropped while I added - I guess you're a pro.

I'm a casual player. I just do this when work's slow.

I couldn't help but let out a laugh. Hey, me too.

Your turn, my mystery opponent pointed out, and I missed, to my astonishment. Ouch - they added last-minute.

I had a phone call! I lied jokingly, adding in one of those smiley icons for fun. I removed my headset, knowing that it would take a full hour until the telephone rang.

"Senseless Shadows" scored two more. I took more time with my aim this turn, trying a daring shot that called for the perfect ricochet off of the corners. My precise planning paid off - "LitJewel913" made three.

So, do you know which table I led you to?

I froze, glancing back at the lists I had on my computer. I don't know, "Night Owls"?

Actually, it's a sub-board reserved for locals. This comment caught my interest.

Locals? Really, that's interesting. After two more moves, the game concluded - "Senseless Shadows" emerged victorious. Another game? I typed in a question, but felt a demand should have been entered instead.

Sure, I have some spare time.

I was allowed the opening move, dropping three to my score. Maybe I'll be lucky this turn?

My suggestion was met with an evenly matched score. You never know, LitJewel - entered my challenger.

I'll admit - the name is tacky, I responded in embarrassment. Just call me Bella.

Bella. Italian for beautiful, I assume?

An amount of two was added to my score. I guess so. I wouldn't know.

You don't speak Italian? What a shame - it is one of the best Romance languages. A grin spread across my lips. "Senseless Shadows" sure was sly - and a little teasing.

What about you? Who is this "Senseless Shadows" that is so gifted in pool and words? I clicked send just as they collected the same score I had.

Edward. Of course I speak English - just incase you were wondering.

I edged forward in gains by a mere point before it was his turn again. That's a relief. I thought you might switch off to Irish or something.

The entrance bell faintly rang as Danny's "girlfriend" - I use this word lightly because from what I've heard, she's rarely in town, and spends most of her time in Italy or Russia - Yvette Rosova came in. Her dark golden hair was swept into a tight bun, shades over her eyes as usual, and dressed in the most luxurious Italian attire - entirely in black. She tossed a folded note over to me in a faded, ancient-type parchment that read, "Danny knows I'm coming." She strode past me, entering Danny's office, then leaving through she same back door he did. These people were striking me as odd the more time passed by.

Hello? Are you still there? My computer emitted a tiny beep, startling me. As much as I'd hate to say, you've lost again.

What can I say? I shot back, clicking on new game. Work started to pick up.


Before You Go...: Let me recap: A.) This is strictly for emitting "toxic" overcreative juices. B.) Funky things will appear in this story. C.) I haven't played online pool in over three years. Hopefully, this expirement will be less demanding than Shades of the Sunset...oh well, we'll see.

-Sweet dreams, love.of.the.moonlight