Queen_Prosaic: forum

(1)

I don't know why you're here or who you are but I hope my words are riveting enough to keep your attention. My name is...

"What do you think?"

"Uh..." I looked down at my phone and pretended to be the only one on this flight. If I don't say anything, I'll disappear. If I don't say anything—

A finger stabbed at my chest, not once, not twice, but a few times every second, and in the end I was forced to shift my to focus to the girl in front of me. The owner of the offending digit. Staring into her big, brown eyes made all my uncertainty leak out of me. "Sure?"

"It's a killer first line," she shoved herself against me, her busty chest squashing my arm, "isn't it?"

"It's a little..." I tried to frame my criticism nicely but all I could think about was the fact that her bright red lipstick was smudged and the rest of it was now on my shirt's collar. No wonder everyone is looking at us. "Needy."

"Needy?" She looked appalled, offended and outraged. I held up my carry-on so that her fist slammed into it and not my face. "Needy?! I took all your advice, goddamnit."

All I could do was shrug, did into my bag and stuff another salted pretzel into my mouth—something for this incredibly long trip down the isle. "You can't force a reader to pay attention. It's like telling a three year old not to rub food all over their face when they eat, they were going to do it anyway but now you gave them more incentive."

"It's innovative."

"It's too meta for my taste." I chewed thoughtfully until the crunch of the pretel dissolved into paste. "Did you copy Kubo?"

"W-What? N-no way," she sputtered, pushing past me to get to her seat. If anyone wondered why we had gone to the toilet together, they didn't voice it. Their glares of suspicion were enough and disapproving stares were enough.

I ate another pretzel.

No, we didn't have sex on an airplane, as exciting as that would have made this boring work trip. My colleague here—the aspiring author—was stuck with me for the next twenty hours and I was stuck with her for the next forty-eight—I'll explain why in a bit.

"Why would I copy a cartoon?" She snorted, not at all sounded guilty for doing exactly that. "I'm making art."

"Cartoons are art."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and strapped herself in. "You should get ready for the turbulence, darling."

"Please," I stuffed my bag into the overhead bin and settled in beside her, "don't call me that."

"C'mon," she lolled her head to the side, arranging her features to create the sultry look she had worn when she was down on her knees a few minutes ago, "we're married."

"Only on paper." My seatbelt locked with a soft click. I let out a soft breath, feeling calm rush through me as I looked out the window just in time to see the plane's right wing cut through a cloud. "Now, please focus and detonate the bomb."

I'm in need of a HUUUGEEE supply of lolipops. Hit me up if you're the person I'm looking for. I give a fair price... I mean, take a look at the lolly market. You'd make a nice profit off me ;)

I pay in full cash, so meh. Dollars don't grow on trees, so first come first serve. Let's make the safest trade of your life.

"Thanks." Queen shot the woman a tight smile and disappeared down the hall.

(2)

While I tightened my seatbelt in anticipation of[background color=var(--bbc-body-bg-color)] the bomb to going off, Amelia casually flipped through a magazine. "Did you really expect me to do what you said?"[/background]

"What did you do with the vial?" That was the only thing I was really concerned about. Anything that would give Dahlia an excuse to kick me out of the organization was a priority.

She held her hand to reveal it, the most explosive substance known to man hanging off her fingertips. I gritted my teeth, feeling a headache worming its way through my skull. Oh, how I wanted to kill her right this moment. "What do you want?"

She placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know your target is on this plane."

I stared into her eyes, enjoying the naive, oblivious look I got in return. "They are."

"And we are supposed to be cooperating." She pressed her lips together, a new, benevolent mask replacing the seductive one. "But I don't like killing innocent people just to get to one person."

"What do you want us to do?"

"We'll get him at his hotel," she said cheerfully, "no one needs to get hurt."

Except you. My eyes dropped to my wrist, following the ticking second hand of the watch my father had given me. Twenty-one hours and thirty minutes till Amelia and I parted ways and my contract to kill her officially started. "We'll do what you say."

She nodded, thoroughly pleased with herself for this successful doublecross. "I knew you would say that. I've got one hell of a bargaining chip, don't I?"

I let her think what she wanted, running my hands over my jacket to check that the second vial was still in there. The most explosive substance known to man, but it's no better than sand without this.

"Let's get a room together," she said, already planning out the rest of our day, "it'll be more convenient that way."

+ = Continue the story.
~ = don't continue the story. It's lame.
C = They don't get a room together. Privacy is important.
D = The hotel only has one room left and it's the presidential suite right opposite the target's room.
Z = A backstory on the "most explosive substance known to man".

[You can choose up to 3 letters/symbols. So your reply can be "+ C Z" if you're greedy (lol). Bye.]

Thanks to @Lunchtime and @Sonnet for participating <3

(0)

{24-HOURS EARLIER}

"Your newest mission."

"My newest target, you mean." I hooked my pinky around hers, letting my expression drop into a coy grin. "Boss, when will you stop pimping me out to random women?"

"When someone finally manages to shoot that smug grin off your face." She quickly pulled her hand away, wearing a look that promised a long and painful death the next time I touched her without any gloves on. "Why don't you sit down?"

"How can I say no?" I walked around her chair to drop into the one opposite her. "Nice restaurant, by the way," I crossed my legs, drumming my fingers on the table, "business must be blooming."

"Save the niceties for later, Agent Dent," she cut into her steak, "have you read her file yet?"

"Do I need to?" I took a napkin off the table and started folding it into a rose. "A delicate flower like her? Dahlia, I can handle a hundred of her in my sleep."

"I appreciate your confidence," Dahlia smiled, staring emotionlessly at your swiftly moving hands, "but I'm afraid your cheap tricks won't be enough to charm her. This rose has particularly poisonous thorns. If you fail, you won't be the first."

"Don't say that like you won't blame me if I do." I let my smile fall and stuffed the folded napkin into my wine glass. Liquid rushed into the cotton flower, dyeing its perfect white fabric wine-red and drowning it. "You've been waiting for an opportunity to kick me out of the family, haven't you, sister-in-law?"

She slid a thumb drive over the table to the side of your plate, giving it two small taps before raising her hand to ask for the bill. She smiled at the waiter when he arrived, then pointed at you. "He's paying."

"My pleasure." I forced a smile and watched her leave. "I'd be insane to eat any of this."

The waiter walked over to silently show me the receipt. The first thing my eyes landed on was the cost of the wine—a figure with six zeros. It took everything in me not to curse her to death. "Damn, that bitch must be crazy."

"It's not nice to call your sister a bitch, sir," the man said.

"In law, Cuzo, you keep forgetting. I swear, she wants me dead." I grabbed Dahlia's glass to drain what little remained of the expensive wine. "Help me look into Amelia Devonshire."

"What about the thumb drive, sir?"

"Toss it." I got up and grabbed the near-empty wine bottle. "And pack up all this food."

"Master..."

"Cuzo, the family is watching. I have to succeed without using her resources. You know this." I scanned his outfit, from the elaborate, silk bow tie to his polished dress shoes. "The next time you pretend to be a waiter, can you please look less rich and handsome? You're lucky Dahlia is blind. If she wasn't, your cover would have been blown in two seconds."

"Just because you have the money to buy it doesn't mean that you should wear it. What type of waiter wears Armani?" I wagged a finger in disappointment. "Make sure to test the food for poison before giving it out."

Cuzo bowed his head in a mock of submission. "Yes, Master."

{MISSION START: INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT}

"Target just up ahead," Cuzo's voice buzzed loudly in my ear, "initiate first contact."

"I'm getting some interference," I stared at the man that had just cut behind my target in the queue, dressed exactly like I was. He had both hands suspiciously and was looking around too often to not be up to something. "Ask the team to handle it."

"Interference in sound transmission or the mission?"

"Both." I took out the earpiece and shoved it into an hidden pocket in my suit as I lined up as well, my carry-on luggage dangling loosely from my shoulder. My competition nervously palmed the weapon he carried, a carbon fiber-plastic creation meant to evade airport security. I should have known that Dahlia would make the contract public to increase the rate of failure but I didn't expect to open it up to noobs like these.

I waited until he was escorted out by "security" before quietly shifting into place behind my target. She hadn't even turned to see what the commotion had been about. "Amelia Devonshire?"

She turned to me with a brilliant grin, her eyes glazing over with recognition. She knew me. Or at least, knew of me. "You are?"

I offered her my arm. "Your new husband."

"Where did you take my old one?" She grabbed onto the crook of my elbow. "No, don't tell me. You suit me better."

"Darling, I'm flattered."

You hand over your ticket and she does the same. Your stamped passports are handed back to you. The ticketing agent flashes you both a wide smile. "Enjoy your flight, Mx and Mrs Devonshire."

"You took my name," Amelia leaned in to whisper, "I'm the one who's flattered, Agent Dent."

I smiled warmly, all the information I had gathered on her rushing to the front of my mind. "As I should, Agent Thorn."

{MISSION IN PROGRESS: AIRPLANE CONVENIENCE}

Three hours into the flight, Amelia decided that we were far enough from the airport and over enough ocean to start. She signalled me with her eyes then headed for the toilet. Five minutes later, I joined her.

"You should have been done by now." I locked the door behind us, staring down at her kneeling body. "Get up."

She swept her hair over her shoulders and ignored me, prying a small piece of metal into a gap in the floor to reveal another compartment. "Did you bring it?"

I reached into my pocket and brought out a little vial, dangling it in front of her by its chain. "You better have an excuse ready for why we're both in here."

She slowly rose to her feet, running her manicured nails down my chest. "I heard that you're a writer. Do you want to see my..."

She grabbed my collar and pulled me close to press her lips to mine then took a step back and used her thumb to wipe off the color that had transferred to my lips. "...book?"

Queen's gaze drifts to the person speaking from the front desk. She's the receptionist?

"A room, for starters," they answered, jabbing their thumb in the direction of the other patrons crowding the lobby. "Somewhere far away from that lot. Secluded, with at least one window facing out to the street, if that's not too much to ask."

Queen didn't think the building looked much special, or that any "perk" advertised on the ad was necessarily true, but they had nowhere else to go. Well, that wasn't true. They couldn't afford to go where they really wanted.

So I guess this will have to do. With a sigh, they dragged their battered body through the swinging doors, nearly crashing into a woman who decided to rush out at the exact same moment.

"Weird." They cleared their throat and went in before the doors slammed shut, immediately scanning the establishment to see if it was up to standard. I really hope I don't regret this... but I'm pretty sure I will. They waved enthusiastically to hide their disappointment, wearing a wide, unnatural smile. "Uh... I saw the ad? A motel, right? I'm really glad I found this place!"

129

I wrote this on a flight. Out of boredom, I spent my time in the forums and decided to post something. So, here's this story, I guess. The next part, and if there's even going to be a next part, is up to you.

Include the following in your reply depending on how you want the story to go [I'll go with the most requested]:

+ = Continue the story.
~ = don't continue the story. It's lame.
C = The bomb goes off, the plane explodes.
D = The bomb doesn't go off. Oops?
Z = A flashback about what happened before this (including what happened in the toilet).

Thanks for reading. I hope it was entertaining. You can choose up to 3 letters/symbols. So your reply can be "+ C Z" if you're greedy (lol). Bye.

[I'll be updating everyday—probably]

(1)

I don't know why you're here or who you are but I hope my words are riveting enough to keep your attention. My name is...

"What do you think?"

"Uh..." I looked down at my phone and pretended to be the only one on this flight. If I don't say anything, I'll disappear. If I don't say anything—

A finger stabbed at my chest, not once, not twice, but a few times every second, and in the end I was forced to shift my to focus to the girl in front of me. The owner of the offending digit. Staring into her big, brown eyes made all my uncertainty leak out of me. "Sure?"

"It's a killer first line," she shoved herself against me, her busty chest squashing my arm, "isn't it?"

"It's a little..." I tried to frame my criticism nicely but all I could think about was the fact that her bright red lipstick was smudged and the rest of it was now on my shirt's collar. No wonder everyone is looking at us. "Needy."

"Needy?" She looked appalled, offended and outraged. I held up my carry-on so that her fist slammed into it and not my face. "Needy?! I took all your advice, goddamnit."

All I could do was shrug, did into my bag and stuff another salted pretzel into my mouth—something for this incredibly long trip down the isle. "You can't force a reader to pay attention. It's like telling a three year old not to rub food all over their face when they eat, they were going to do it anyway but now you gave them more incentive."

"It's innovative."

"It's too meta for my taste." I chewed thoughtfully until the crunch of the pretel dissolved into paste. "Did you copy Kubo?"

"W-What? N-no way," she sputtered, pushing past me to get to her seat. If anyone wondered why we had gone to the toilet together, they didn't voice it. Their glares of suspicion were enough and disapproving stares were enough.

I ate another pretzel.

No, we didn't have sex on an airplane, as exciting as that would have made this boring work trip. My colleague here—the aspiring author—was stuck with me for the next twenty hours and I was stuck with her for the next forty-eight—I'll explain why in a bit.

"Why would I copy a cartoon?" She snorted, not at all sounded guilty for doing exactly that. "I'm making art."

"Cartoons are art."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and strapped herself in. "You should get ready for the turbulence, darling."

"Please," I stuffed my bag into the overhead bin and settled in beside her, "don't call me that."

"C'mon," she lolled her head to the side, arranging her features to create the sultry look she had worn when she was down on her knees a few minutes ago, "we're married."

"Only on paper." My seatbelt locked with a soft click. I let out a soft breath, feeling calm rush through me as I looked out the window just in time to see the plane's right wing cut through a cloud. "Now, please focus and detonate the bomb."

Dead

Honourable punchbags

I'm in need of a HUUUGEEE supply of lolipops. Hit me up if you're the person I'm looking for. I give a fair price... I mean, take a look at the lolly market. You'd make a nice profit off me ;)

I pay in full cash, so meh. Dollars don't grow on trees, so first come first serve. Let's make the safest trade of your life.

Sup

Double : $2

As far as any newbie can.

24, 10, 37, 3, 28

It doesn't get better than a newbie with a million dollar gun.

So much money. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Lol. Donate to the church, maybe? Thanks for being so kind, giving to us poor folks.

24267

Work Slave