Sorry about not updating on all my DP stories. I went on an eight day trip to Tennessee and the wifi was shit.
Valore, Princes and Bad Guys
Ten
Narcissistic Cannibal-Early Rise
The thorn crown sat uncomfortably on his head as he glanced about the room. "I have called you here," said the Dark King, lacing his fingers to prop up his scarred chin, turning his attention to the strategy map on the table, "to discuss my son, heir to my throne, and his bride to be, a little girl by the name of Chloe."
A maid poured more blood-wine into his cup and he took the bottle from her. "She's fifteen, sire," said a tall, thin man with a hawkish nose. Prime Minister Davidoff. "Her height is four-foot-ten and she weighs ninety-six pounds."
The king shot the minister a look. "Not basic information," he spat as he oh so calmly hurled the bottle at the man's head. It exploded and rained red. "M-my apologies, your majesty," the soaked man stammered. "She walks. In the mornings…and at night," the minister said.
"That could work in our favor," murmured the king. "Get me my Black Rune team." Several women scurried out of the room. "What about the boy?"
"He mainly stays inside, often glued to her hip. Won't let her do anything alone. Paranoid perhaps?" Dr. Gil, a renowned observer of the criminally insane, murmured, flipping through her notes. Wisps of hair escaped her braid. "When confronted, he will walk away if he can and if he can't, he runs like the devil's on his heels."
"Run like hell," the king chuckled. His friend had taught the boy well, helping him channel his rage into something less…aggressive, more passive. When he took Jennifer's child away, the boy would surely follow, and then, only then, could he teach his son about true power, true strength.
"The Black Archive team has arrived, your majesty," said Margaret as she crawled on her hands and knees and kissed his rings. He beckoned them and a team of about forty men crowded into the room. The leader was the king's age, with graying brown hair and three nasty scars across his throat, like a cat had taken a swipe at him.
"Your majesty," murmured the leader as he bowed on one knee, a fist on his heart. "You may stand," the king suggested and the Black Archive team got to their feet. Several men coughed, some leaned back against the walls casually.
"What do you need, sir?" the leader of Black Archive asked, his serious brown eyes meeting the king's. "I need you, and your team, to kidnap her." He slid a picture of Chloe across the table. "The princess of Buffalo?"
"Yes. And the boy, with the black hair and green eyes, is to follow her. Bring her back here and he will trail like an animal after his master," sneered the king, cracking his knuckles. "When?" someone in the back asked. "In four days' time."
The king picked up a pile of papers. "Make sure Derek can see you take her," he added, dipping his quill tip in the red blood wine in his glass. "Don't use any names around her, only Alpha One and Beta Six," the leader told his team.
"Oh, and watch them for a few days. Get a feel for them," suggested the king and sent them off.
oOo
The warehouse was just the right height for his team to spy on the castle. Maids and servants bustled in and out; every now and then, the leader of Black Archive would catch a glimpse of the boy's sister and brother and adoptive father. Of course hew as the only one who knew the boy's biological father's identity, just like the kind was the only one who knew who he was.
He sat in the tree, camouflaged with leaves as he watched the events unfold on the street. Children played in muddy puddles; street women sold themselves off corners; peddlers tried to sell things—business as usual. It was as he was putting down his magnifying glasses that he spotted them: Chloe and the king's son, heading up the steps, her arm tucked into his.
The leader leaned forward, watching them interact. The girl was a natural beauty, not busty or striking; strawberry blonde hair gleamed down her back in a curtain of loose curls and big blue eyes blinked up at the prince; she was dressed in a modest pink gown with a bow pinned in her hair.
The boy was sharp, intimidating and dark, just like his father. Tendrils of ebony covered his head and curled just above the nape of his neck, his green eyes (he'd inherited them from his mother) flickered every where, scanning, searching, and his cheeks were flushed bright red with acne. He was a strike contrast to the girl's pink with an all made ensemble.
He paused outside the door, turning around as he looked about. His eyes drifted from the ground to the skyline, searching building tops and trees. When the boy's eyes rested on the tree the leader was in, the man held his breath until he felt dizzy and his vision began to go hazy.
The girl appeared, grabbed at the boy's arm and said something. His cheeks went red as he turned his attention away from the leader and headed inside. The leader laid on his back and caught his breath, making sure he wouldn't pass out before he headed back to the base.
"A few cuts of meat," one of his men, the finest cook out of all of them, was saying when he entered the data base. The leader wiped the sweat from his brow and decided to hit the shower.
Steam filled his lungs with each breath as he stood under the hot spray, his eyes shut. The men outside laughed and snorted, unaware of their leader having a little breakdown. Tori had grown into a beautiful young lady; Simon was handsome and Kit…he looked older, worn.
"You okay?" someone asked as they knocked on the door. "Yeah, fine," the leader lied. How could he have faked his own death and turn to a life of killing and kidnapping for the infamous Dark King?
As the leader dressed, he didn't see the scary man leading a dangerous team. He saw a man named Andrew Carson, former king of Buffalo, New York.
Andrew Carson should've died the day the Dark King had asked him to assist.