From Zhalia's diary

23th June 2009, Monday, 1:54

The Organization Central

Prague, The Czech Republic

Dear diary,

Soon I'll become a princess…

Just kidding. I'm not some five-year-old to start my diary like that; it's not even pink, neither fluffy nor scented.

There's a grain of truth in this sentence, though. I just should've added that before I put the diadem on my head, I'll have to get one prince eliminated… or one annoying frog, if you prefer. Although I would rather avoid the kissing part as much as possible. It shouldn't matter what shape the prince will be in just before getting rid of him, I guess.

But let's not put the cart before the horse. I have to sort this out myself because I still can't believe that after three years of inconclusive work and laying in waiting I'm finally heading towards a certain, more specified goal.

It all started when I was sitting in Klaus' Prague office and observing how a huge, yellow slug crawled across his wiry hand. The researcher stroked the mollusk's bare, slimy skin with his long, wrinkled fingers, just like most people would scratch their favorite pet. It wouldn't surprise me if it was one; given Klaus' twisted sense taste, he could have come wrapped in a scarf made of the ugliest kind of moray eel and I wouldn't even bat an eye.

However, oddly enough, Klaus didn't look as if he had enjoyed the weird caress at all. On the contrary, he seemed discontent, and it was not exactly because of the slime left on the sleeve of his claret shirt. The man finally couldn't stand it and, with just one impatient flip, he shook the slug down to the open jar, which, despite all the obvious signs, didn't contain water (and I've learnt the hard way it's better not to know what it was).

'A failure, again. It does not even sting', he murmured, screwing the lid and observing the slug, which now didn't look like a big boil on his hand anymore, but resembled a gigantic jelly instead, levitating in the mysterious liquid up and down, and around, and again, and so on; hypnotizing… It was hard to take one's eyes off it. However, Klaus managed to do so and then noticed that the files which he had given me a moment ago had been lying on my lap safely for few minutes.

'Aren't you reading?', he growled, piercing me with his greenish-brown right eye, enlarged monstrously by the monocle thrusting his lower eyelid.

'Why would I?', I answered with another question, throwing the papers back onto his desk lightly. 'I already know everything I should. Don't forget that it was me who collected most of the information from the Huntik database.'

'Except the most important ones', he said stingily. 'That DeFoe paranoid had to guide you.'

I shook my head with all the loftiness I could have gathered – despite the pretense, this comment hurt.

'He got lucky, that's all. If I had bumped into those kids…'

'Exactly', Klaus interrupted me roughly. 'If you had. But it was DeFoe who caught all three handsome birds at once…'

'He hasn't yet', I corrected dismissively, laying back on my chair. 'I'll make it before him, you've got my word. That freak who smells conspiracy everywhere doesn't stand a chance against me.'

'I hope so', Klaus mumbled with dissatisfaction; he'd like to see the results of my actions instead of just me talking about them.

'You said yourself I'm better than him', I stated just to pacify him a bit. Men love when you invoke their wisdom and shrewdness, especially when they are convinced of their own superiority. My mentor is no exception.

'Indeed', Klaus' furrowed face, an ideal inspiration for all the Frankenstein's monster films, lightened a bit (which is hard to notice if one doesn't know him well, because his face always looks as if it was twisted in a grimace). 'We do not have to lie to ourselves, Dante Vale is not a superhero without an Achilles' heel', he speculated snootily while I was playing with the edge of my bandanna, pretending that it's madly interesting. As if I didn't had a clue what he was talking about, even if I delivered him most of the currently analyzed information myself. 'He is only human, of course, highly intelligent, clever and dangerous in battle, but still a mere mortal. And a man; those, as we both know, have their flaws… They like women very much, for example.'

'Or other men, alternatively', I barged in. I was getting bored with this speech; he liked dramatic intros way too much. I wished we could just get to the point. 'In extreme cases, young boys, children, dogs, ducks, sheep…', I enumerated casually.

Klaus grimaced as if disgusted by my suggestions. One could think he was too prudent to accept that such abnormalities exist. If I didn't know that he deals with abnormalities on a daily basis, and willingly, I'd probably care.

'He is a standard case, no aberrations', he summed up dryly, cutting the discussion before it started. 'Therefore we can lure him with a very suitable bait.'

It was my turn to bristle like an irritated cat. I hated when he underestimated my role, as if the only advantage I had over DeFoe was the fact that I had a pussy and a pair of tits.

'I love your compliments, Klaus', I repaid him rattily. 'A bait. Sweet, really.'

'Zhalia, no one would deny that you are already a young woman, beautiful and alluring, aware of your advantages', he tried to placate me with his flattery. 'Dante Vale would be handicapped if he ignored that.'

Those compliments meant nothing to me. It was the Organization, not a beauty pageant. Good presence may have been a useful bonus, but there was a lot more to cover.

Judging from Klaus' appearance, lowering my morale right before the action wasn't exactly his plan.

'However, it is your knowledge and commitment to this matter that are your main assets', he added in a futile attempt to get rid of my gloomy stare. 'You were chosen by the Professor himself and he would not put so much of Organization's effort if he did not believe in success.'

This was more of an argument, so I loosened up a bit. Indeed, our superior certainly had other reasons to choose me, apart from my smoking hot appearance. He wasn't exactly a man who could be easily impressed with a pretty face. He knew I know how to use it to my advantage. Although I wouldn't like to use it in vain.

'Klaus, remember that: If he's some kind of a scabby old fogey, I'm out of this', I warned him, underlining those words with a bloodthirsty eye flare, although I knew that at least one is not true – Vale was born in 1980, so - definitely not old.

'DeFoe states he looks pretty well', he murmured – not because he was moved by my warning (we both know those were just empty threats), but for peace and quiet.

'In men's dictionary, 'pretty well' may mean protruding ears or smallpox stains', I snarled, crossing my arms. 'Besides, that's a bit general, and in DeFoe's mouth it sounds even less trustworthy. What?', I gave back his incredulous, irritated stare. 'Wanna get rid of garbage, hire a dustman.'

'You should be familiar with his appearance, you found his photograph in the database', he stated with annoyance.

'Yeah and it was taken three years ago', I reminded him. 'And he looked retarded already, with all those stupid hair. Many things could have gone even worse since then. For example, his center of gravity.'

Klaus furrowed his brow, not getting the allusion.

'He may have put on weight', I explained mercifully. 'Get a beer belly, a double chin. Or go gray. That happens even in his age.'

'He is not even thirty years old', Klaus jawed me; oh well, that's a sensitive matter for the old geezer. 'Dark-haired', he tried to save the day, digging into his memory and drawing out details which were usually quite insignificant for men. 'He wears a brown duster. Quite tall. Has a beard.'

'Oh great', I sighed excessively. 'I hate bearded ones.'

the old man snorted, annoyed with my female whining about the topic which he considered unimportant. Well, he wouldn't be the one 'in the field', so easy to say.

'What is the difference?', he blurted out.

'Fundamental', I responded trenchantly. 'You won't be the one scratched by those bristles like a wire scourer. Just try using pumice on your face… and other sensitive body parts, if it comes to that', I added euphemistically, earning another disgusted glare from Klaus. 'Your description doesn't put me in an optimistic mood. I'd rather check him myself. However, if I had an actual photo, it'd be much easier to negotiate the price…'

'I am glad you have not been so talkative in front of the Professor', Klaus chided me which shut my trap in a moment. He is right; I went too far, forgetting myself. I should have learned my lesson that in the Organization, it's better to keep your lips pursed, and tightly. Even your own mind isn't the safest place to be thinking such bold thoughts. Klaus must have been thinking the same.

'The price is not the priority here', he continued sternly, raising his voice a little; was it another safety measure, in case we were heard? 'It is a chance for both of us to show our loyalty to the Organization. The Professor surely values those who serve him, and he has a way to show it. Just imagine the possibilities when we…'

'Alright, alright', I turned him away; I knew his arguments too well, and to be honest, I feel weird when we talk like that; just as if we were watched by a hidden camera. 'What am I supposed to pull out from Vale? Just please tell it's not only about an equipment from his pants', I added in a murmur, but it went unappreciated, probably event unnoticed, because Klaus' face suddenly radiated fervently with zeal.

'Everything', he said greedily and his eyes burned fanatically. Maybe I'd have gotten scared if I wasn't used to it. 'Everything you will be able to. He is Metz's protégé, his favorite hound in the kennel. The Foundation's leading agent, the pride and joy of Huntik. He has got thousand pieces of information in one finger.'

'Couldn't we just have a rummage around his skull?', I proposed with dislike. 'Can't we get along without bag of tricks and a red light to go all the way?', I added caustically.

'Few squadrons tried to capture him already, with no result', he shook his head. 'He is a real beast, a machine. There has to be a weakness, a loose screw. It is well known from the ancient times that a man gets destroyed the most easily by a woman, even the Bible needed to admit it. You should appreciate that you will be the one destroying the fundamentals of such an immense association', it didn't sound like a request, rather like an order.

'I'd appreciate it more if I wasn't told to screw with him', I winced in disgust, finally addressing an elephant in the room.

'You agreed to use every method in order to squeeze the information out of him', Klaus reserved providently in a lowered voice that didn't sign anything good. 'It is up to your creativity how you do it. If other means fail you… you can only blame your lack of suitable abilities. However, we both know this is not the case', he leaned forward to me, piercing me with his gaze like a butterfly in the showcase. I turned my head aside, but I couldn't run away from his persuading voice. 'You do not have to be at his beck and call, for he will be the one to beg for your attention. He is a key weapon to destroying the Foundation from the inside, but he is not to be given a pole position in your private game. He has to be the one to adore you and to desire to give you his soul, let alone few Huntik secrets…', he carried on with a dreaming expression, tapping his fingers, as if he looked forward to the moment when the Foundation mysteries would get into his hands.

'You say it as if I had ever taken liberties with them', I threw in just to drown this sound and shrugged. 'It's just some kind of a… mating dance of a praying mantis, using your favorite biological way of speaking.'

'Do not soft-soap me', Klaus snapped tartly. 'Ryder… danced with you, however, you did not bite his head off.'

I turned away, trying to look as if it didn't affect me at all.

'We're just partners with benefits. Nothing personal', I waved my hand nonchalantly.

'I would rather you avoided giving such privileges away to anybody', Klaus stated wryly, pursing his lips into a thin line, as if he had just swallowed a lemon.

'Anybody, anybody', I mocked him. 'At least I had an opportunity to meet Ryder earlier and I knew what to expect, and this guy is only a whole folder of documents about what, where and when he was doing. Strange that no one wrote when he had shits. They treat him like some guru…', I pursed my lips.

'You must treat him in the same way', Klaus ordered. 'He has to lose his head for you… literally', he smirked at his little joke. 'Crush him like a lemon. Take advantage of him. Make him do anything you tell him. But do it so he will not even be aware of betraying his kin. Let him feel as if he was the one holding all the cards, bluff to let him win all your deck. He will pay for that lavishly. With his own skin', he laughed so nastily that I heard the phlegm bubbling in his throat. I ignored it bravely.

'Can you just leave it to me?', I requested, wincing mechanically. 'I have more experience in dealing with men anyway…'

Klaus rolled his eyes, but right away he also nodded. I triumphed inside; my opinion did matter, after all.

'Splendid', I commented shortly, standing up. 'May I go now?'

'Why? To devise a plan?', he investigated like a child asking about Christmas gifts.

'You could say so', I responded evasively.

'You can do it here', he noticed.

'Not quite', I corrected. 'I need my wardrobe. I must think over in which attire I'll amaze this Vale guy.'

'Does it really matter so much?', Klaus smiled with sympathy.

Oh well, it's only Klaus who prefers his experiments over women and probably only new discovers excite him. I gave him a condescending look, which was enough for an answer.

'I also need some funds', I added lightly.

'What for?', he bristled. Every reference to outgoings make him angry.

'For a beautician, hairdresser, new underwear', I enumerated tirelessly. 'How am I supposed to be effective without it?'

'You look well already', he insisted.

'Does he have to fall into our clutches immediately?', I asked. Klaus nodded. 'So I don't need to look good. I must be astonishing. It'll pay off soon, promise.'

'I have a feeling that it is only an excuse to let you have some pleasure from this', the old geezer growled with anger, handing me a credit card.

'That's right', I laughed disrespectfully, hiding it in the pocket. 'I guess I deserve it in return for blood, tears… and lots, lots of sweat, don't I?', I added suggestively, stretching my back just to expose my smooth moves.

'If Vale equals to Ryder, you will get your payment in kind', he responded as suggestively and, in addition, meanly.

'This spite was unnecessary', I raised my brows haughtily, sending him my infamous cold glare. 'I don't expect to have much fun.' I winced, somehow I didn't really want to think about it. Besides… It's really HARD to come up to Ryder's, I thought involuntarily, then I shook my head dismissively. 'I'm going, I'll prepare for the hunt.'

'Just do not overdo it', he warned me. 'If you look too perfect, he will not believe you are on a mission, more likely in the spa.'

'That's better for me', I assured him with self-confidence which could have been taken as pride. 'He won't expect what awaits for him… and then…'

'And then?', Klaus repeated urgently, but his face indicated that he knew exactly what I wanted to say.

I returned this mean grimace. In fact, he couldn't have predicted the end. I pointed at the top of his desk.

'You should name this slug Dante Vale', I encouraged him.

'Why?', he got surprised, throwing me a suspicious stare.

CRACK!

The jar exploded, splashing the transparent liquid all around and sending pieces of glass flying. Klaus quickly raised a guard around himself; it stopped the glass splinters, which fell onto the floor, and the drops of sticky gung, flowing down like an exceptionally glutinous rain. Right in front of the old man's eyes landed also a shredded, yellowish slice with a reddish edge, which slid down the spherical barrier lazily.

'Because he will end up the same', I dispelled the doubts, lowering my raised hand. Just in the right moment, the remains of the slug peeled away from the cover with a smack and landed on the floor with a sloppy sound. Very suitable dramatic effect. Surely it made some impression on Klaus.

However, I haven't checked if it did, just turned on my heel and headed to the door. When I was leaving, I dared to slam the door, just to accentuate my diva departure. After all, I couldn't hold back a smile. Bravo, Zhalia. Nice performance. Quite nice.

Though I'll have a chance to prove I can do much better. This was just a prelude to my time in the spotlight.