AlteredTundra — Roleplayer Guild

  
In most cases, Francisco was cool as a late winter night in Madrid. Confidence was hardly lacking when it came to him and the way he often carried himself was both obvious and vague - even teetering on the brink of mystery. He was the kind of man that even trained professionals such as famed detectives and psychiatrists would find extremely difficult to read. And such was the nature of being a thief of his caliber. To maintain a deceiving facade was likely on the top of the short list of what every single person who operates within the shadows for their professional career kept. So why was it this job he had been tasked with brought such an unnerving excitement out of him?

The closer he seemed to be to obtain that which he was hired to snatch from the upcoming gala, Francisco seemed to be acting uncharacteristically to how he typically was. The man had found himself shaking every other minute, not able to keep still or focus on the entertainment he paid bundles of crisp Benjamins for. With just one touch of his hand to the phone on the nightstand by his bed, they would be sent to his room whenever he desired it, yet pleasure was the furthest thing from his mind right now. His train of thought was like a revolving door of rotating contemplations. At one point, the man was heavily in the middle of the job itself, then going as far as to wonder what sort of security the gala would have. He knew such a thing like The Atis (as it seemed to be called now) would not only generate a lot of social media buzz and the like, it would be heavily guarded, too. That crossed his mind at a point, but what seemed to stay was the repercussions of failure. In its simplest form, Francisco wasn’t exactly keen on finding out what his employers had in mind should he fail to capture that book.

He stood in the bathroom of his glamorous hotel room, facing the mirror. Francisco had groomed himself almost in an obsessive-compulsive way in just the last few hours. Sleep had escaped him. Nerves be damned. He had to focus and focus he shall. He just took one last look. His hair was combed to perfection. His dark locks had been oversaturated by the premium hairjel he brought with him from Spain. It had a certain shine to him that made him look like the Spanish version of James Bond - but a lot more dashing. His skin was gently coated with olive oil (somewhat of an odd choice). It allowed his normally bronze skin shade to give it a glossy shade, furthering the flawlessness of his winning complexion. And, of course, a man of such quality and high maintenance like Francisco Delgado Jr wouldn’t be complete without a specifically-crafted three-piece suit imported straight from the most exclusive tailor that money could buy. He ran his hands along the suit, admiring every sewed button and strands of the various fabrics. The leather was so subtle made him further appreciate how much of an artwork it really was.

“Move over, Antonio Banderas,” he smirked at himself in the mirror, making sure his jacket was perfectly aligned with his vest and shirt. He did the same with his tie, tightening it just enough to leave no gaps between the top button and his jacket. Every element at play was to his unusually-high standards. “Francisco Delgado is taking over.” He shot himself a single wink before he left as only Francisco could.

Into the Badlands, he went.

Francisco had gotten himself well acquainted with The Badlands as the best he could since arriving, especially since he had that informative meeting with the mysterious figure known simply as The Bird. In the almost weeks he’s been around, he has absorbed as much as he could: where to go, who to find when he needs to, and which areas to avoid. For the most part, Cisco maintained a distance from the areas that which have been rumored to be dangerous territory for the likes of him, but there were still a few things the Spaniard had to handle before he was absolute in his preparations for obtaining the book that tops all books in existence. And to do that, the man had to meet with someone he heard could get him the tools needed. Of course, he has his own, but even the Delgado family name couldn’t earn him some pull when it came to certain tech.

Just about three miles from the hotel he had been staying at, Francisco walked through a busy street, the sounds of people talking on their phones, walking and talking to themselves, and several cars honking away at all of those who ignore the civil rules of a society that thrived on such. He was one that usually stood out when he walked in such a nice suit and with hair groomed in a superior way that made men jealous they looked that good and women swooning, As much as he would just find it the icing on the cake if he could soak it all in, he had a meeting to attend to and this particular person - a person, mind you, that Francisco has known for years - was one for punctuality. Thankfully, Francisco was right on time when he arrived at a motel simply called At End’s Meet. 

Charming title Francisco thought as he showed up with his briefcase. Yeah, talk about looking too good for your surroundings.

At the front desk of some rundown outpost like those top-life mall security guards call their station, Cisco saw an overweight, greasy-looking man with bald spots all over his hair, warts and boils spread across his triple-chin face and attire so stained with week-old food that it nearly made Cisco throw up on his expensive suit. 

“Are you lost? Wall Street is that way.” He pointed towards the towering bridges and skyscrapers in the opposite direction.

Cisco gave the el culon the fakest, genuine smile he could force himself to feign. “I am the expected guest of Room 69.”

“I’m sure you are. Too bad no such room exists.” 

He really was going to make this hard for Cisco, wasn't he? He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a wad of cash. Based off of the size, he pulled out an easy three-thousand dollars in small, unmarked bills. “Perhaps this will clear your memory, señor?” He handed the man the ball of cash.

With eyes wide open and a laugh, the man reached over to the wall of keys. “Second floor, last door on the right.”

“Gracias señor.”

“A word of advice, amigo?”

Cisco gave him a curious glance. “¿Qué?”

“Don’t lollygag. This isn’t the kind of place your kind.”

Now he really wanted to punch his lights out, but Cisco still kept on that smile of his from before. “Appreciate the warning, señor. Have a good day.”

Cisco had found his way through the parking lot and followed some people who seemed to know who he was. When they called out his codename that only the person who he was at this rundown motel to see would know, The Casanova, he knew to follow them. Several flights of stairs later and a few that led down to a hidden building that was only accessible through a secret panel on one of the ground floors, Cisco was finally able to reach the ‘second’ floor that the manager of the motel told him. Cisco felt misled, but he did remember the manager said the second floor, he didn’t say which one it was. But alas, Cisco was getting hung up on the wrong details. He was to head to the end of the path and he would be at door 69.

As he walked, it became painfully obvious to Cisco this was certainly, as one would call it, the bad part of town. Sirens, gunshots, fights of both verbal and physical, and just about anything bad that could happen was, in fact, happening in real time as he walked. Below him, he saw someone got shot during a bad drug deal. Following that, several gang members came and beat down a single person for, as Cisco perceived it, wearing the wrong color. 

What a pity, really. So many lives lost because animalistic instincts take control over the emotional side of the human soul where logic should reign supreme.

Cisco wasn’t bothered by what he saw, but he did find it insulting to those of superior intellect - like himself -had to walk the same earth with them infecting. Just one of many things Cisco hoped to correct one day. One task at a time. First the Atis, then bug extermination. He had to remind himself as he came to Room 69.

And with the designated knock sequence he was told to use with only one shot to nail it, he knocked on the door: three consecutive knocks, two knocks with half-a-second space between them, and three additional consecutive knocks. 

As he waited for nearly three minutes, Cisco was understandably ticked. While he had accepted this person he was meeting was secretive and wanted to ensure he wasn’t someone to fear, there was the part of Cisco that was growing impatient. It had gotten to the point where he was about to simply walk away. Though what he came all the way out to the ghetto to obtain was paramount to his mission, he was a resourceful man. He had alternative ways of getting the job done, though any other way that didn’t involve having the right gadgets was a bit tedious for him. 

Fortunately for Cisco, he wouldn’t have to wait a single moment longer. He heard the sounds of locks being unlocked and latches unlatched. He heard a  chain that was usually connected to a contraption slide over. Then finally the doorknob lock was subtlety heard as the door itself would start to crack open a moment later, though when cisco pushed it open, he saw no one waiting for him, so the man walked through. 

The room was as empty and lifeless as, well, as he expected from it belonging to this motel. Something interesting that caught his attention, however, was a light from deeper into the room. As he ventured closer, it became apparent what the source of those lights were computer monitors. The bigger shocker was how, when he finally reached a secret room, Cisco saw someone sitting in front of the monitors. Approaching with caution, Cisco heard a door suddenly close behind him. 

Now the usually-confident Francisco Delgado was starting to wonder if he was lured here by an enemy who hoped to kill him. Of course, he didn’t jump to any sudden conclusions. First off, he’d put on the charming facade and introduce himself. “I’m Francisco Delgado and I--”

“Please take a seat, Francisco Delgado Jr,” the voice of someone who sounded very commanding said, their hand gesturing to the chair exactly three feet to the left of where Cisco sat.

This was starting to feel familiar. Cisco hoped this wasn’t actually The Bird but in a different location. ”Can we begin yet?” He asked not out of impatience but confirmed that he wasn’t, in fact, lured under false pretenses.

“Just a moment.” The person at the desk said, mumbling something, though, after about three minutes, they were done. “Okay! We should be safe.”

Safe? Safe from what? “That’s excellent news! Now, can we assume that our original arrangement can proceed without pause?”

Cisco got no immediate answer. What he did get, however, was the addition of overhead lighting, which illuminated the room. To his genuine bewilderment, Cisco saw wires, strings, and just about everything one could think would be present in the bunker of a paranoid conspiracist. 

“What is all of this?” Cisco asked as his eyes wandered to every wall, then finally to the person sitting in the chair. Again, his genuine shock could not be faked even if he wanted to. “Wait, you’re the person who I’m meeting? You’re…” Cisco’s throat tightened, his own surprise throwing him for a loop. “Of all people, I never expected to see you here, Isabella.”

Smiling, the person previously thought to be a male, revealed her attractive, well-rounded face of similar skin color to Francisco’s, though hers was just a shade darker and her eyes were cooling with a breezy shade of oceanic green, and her hair, though dyed several shades of the rainbow, had a foundation in dark sienna. The features she had and the way she postured her lean figure, to anyone who saw her but mainly how Cisco saw her, the resemblance was uncanny and it went without question..

“Cissy, you’ve gotten fatter since the last time I saw you. Then again, brother, you’ve been more on the bulkier side, haven’t you?” 

Isabella’s words shot him right through the heart. “And you’re as cold as ever, Belle.” Cisco relaxed his shoulders, giving her only but a loving smile that a brother could give to his sister. “I thought you went off the grid. Why are you here in The Badlands?”

“The same reason you are: for a fresh start,” she admitted, but Cisco didn’t seem to believe that was the full story. “Never mind that, I trust you want The Eye?”

Right to it, huh? “Only if you can secure it for me.”

“You never did trust me at my word.”

“Not since you poured gasoline on my fresh laptop because you were mad at me.”

“That’s cause you embarrassed me in front of my boyfriend and Papa.” Isabella scowled, turning around as Cisco heard some sequence of buttons.

And a moment later, a part of the floor opened, revealing a small, eye-shaped button the size of a lapel pin. “Snazzy.”

“And top of the line. Get within twenty feet of any remote, security system, and all circuits will be fried for a full five minutes. That includes infra-red cameras, all forms of locks, and sensory systems will have a period of a slow reboot. In that time, you will need to act fast. Additionally, most modern cellphone batteries will overheat and cause any systems connected to them to also be shut down,” Isabella explained, “Cisco listen, this is NSA-grade tech. It was used in the cyber attack in Toronto last week. I hope you know what I am risking by getting you this to you.”

In a rare moment, he gave his sister a sweet smile. “I know, niñera. I appreciate it.”

She turned back to her computer monitors, pressing yet another button that would send an app download to his phone. “When you’re ready, simply activate that app, press the iris of the device, and you will have everything you need to get what you came to this place for

Francisco stood up, pocketing The Eye. As he walked to the door, he heard Isabella speak out to him. “Cisco, you never saw me.”

“Be seeing you, Belle!” He said, smiling.

Leaving the motel area and returning to his hotel room within minutes, Cisco collapsed on his bed, thinking about everything he had to go through to get this far. Perhaps, when he finally obtained The Atis, Francisco could work on righting the wrongs he committed in his past. None were so pressing in his mind than what he did to Isabella and why she’s on the run.

“One difficult task at a time, Francisco.”
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