Chapter One: A rumor in Googleplex
Ten years Later…
A burly man walked down the street of Russia's second greatest city. He had a look about him that caused everyone to avoid him, if slightly. He walked over to a newspaper stand, glancing at the headline: PRINCE PHINEAS! ALIVE OR DEAD? He chuckled lightly. As if the papers would know a thing like that.
He stopped at an old looking wood door. He knocked twice and whispered a passcode. The door swung open, revealing-
"Isabella!" The young man's face broke into a crooked grin. "I thought you were the one who called me."
The black haired girl smiled blandly at him. "Buford. Glad you could make it. Come on."
She led him through the black market, ignoring the vendors and stopping only to buy a ratty scrap of fur. Buford didn't mind. It gave him time to size up the young lady in front of him.
She hadn't changed much. Her expression was a bit harder and colder than he remembered, but otherwise she seemed the same. Cute would have been the first word to describe her, what with her hair bow and bright pink attire. Buford knew, or rather he had learned, that beneath that adorable outside was a tough woman who could and did do anything she set her mind on.
They reached a room overlooking the city square. Isabella locked it while he looked around. It looked as though it had once been a child's bedroom. There were toys scattered all through the small space, the bigger ones covered in tarps.
"So," Isabella started. "Whatch ya been doin'?"
He shrugged. "Not much. Roughing up some of the… less corporative people for whichever boss bids higher."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Hired brawn?"
Buford shrugged indifferently.
She nodded swiftly. "That might work with what I have in mind."
"Which is…?"
She tossed him a newspaper.
"The lost prince?" Buford exclaimed. "But that's just a rumor. …Isn't it?"
"They never found his body." Isabella reminded.
"That doesn't mean he's alive!"
"He doesn't have to be." She crossed to the other side of the room and started packing a large leather bag. "We'll find a boy to play the part, and teach him what to say. We'll dress him up and take him to Danville, pass him off as the prince, then have more money than we ever have in our whole lives! Don't you see?" She turned back to him. "This could be our big ticket out of here. No more Googleplex. No more forging papers, no more hired muscle!"
Buford raised an eyebrow. "You've really thought this through, huh?"
"I've had time."
"Hmmm," Buford mused. "So where do I fit into this?"
"The truth?" She crossed to a large window and stared out of it. "I can't do this alone. It's too big. And, sad as it is, you are the only one I trust enough to help me out here." She faced him. "You don't have to though. I won't force you."
Buford smirked. "I didn't say I wasn't in. Just wanted to make sure I was in for a reason, ya know?" He looked down at the paper in his hands and frowned. "It might be hard to find a match for him though. I mean," He held it up. "How many people have heads shaped like triangles?"
Isabella shrugged. "It's surprisingly common in the other kingdom areas. Not common enough to be an everyday thing, but not rare enough to be unheard of."
"And how, exactly are we going to look for someone who fits the bill?"
"I rented out a theater on the other side of the city. I also made the… necessary payments for advertising."
"Well, then." Buford folded the paper and stuffed it into his coat. "I guess we'd better head out then." He grinned. "If this person is going to fool the Crown Prince, he'd better be real convincing."
