𝖨𝗇 𝖬𝗒 𝖣𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 : 𝖱𝖾𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 | 𝖪𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖳𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇

𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾

"The Daily Mail : 'Masked Phantom Of Futuristic Couture' Strikes Again"

"In The Now : Fabric Factory Burned To Ashes; Culprits Identified"

"Messenger : 'The Wicked Daydream' Casts One More Nightmare"

Piles of newspaper littered the carpeted floor. Thick puffs of white, cigarette smoke permeated the dark room, leaving a pungent trace of nicotine in the air. Ash powdered the carpet as a sharp heel from a sequin-studded boots tapped the surface. Y/N sat on her springy chair, a long quellazaire rested between her fingers.

She boringly scanned the front pages, darting her eyes from one, black, gothic font to another. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she used the edge of her footwear to flip the paper over. Her masked face adorned the centerfolds, each grayscale photo depicting her as a restless villain- a scandalous yet iconic criminal.

Y/N knew the press hated her existence; she knew how they had perfectly tricked the public into thinking that she was the bad guy- which is true, but she was never the worst of the worst. Crumpling one in hand, she threw it into a bin and missed. She scoffed.

"Miss," a voice pitched from behind. "Brilliant news. The factory's now nothing but a pile of rubbish."

"Just as I wanted," Y/N maliciously grinned, her red lips sparkling before the bright fireplace. "Well done, Pugsy."

She flicked another newspaper. She watched as another image of her came into view. Foul captions striked her vision as she skimmed. It didn't faze her however. If anything, she took them as compliments. A laughing menace. A mad beauty. An outlaw celebrating the neverending chaos. She loved the infamous persona she had materialized. She loved the attention. She loved her dirty power.

"Le Centrale : City Of Coussac Stunned As 'Le Mystique' Bags Another Crime"

"Le Mystique," Y/N read out loud. "I like that alias, don't you, Pugsy?"

The buff man nodded. A bemused sigh broke the silence alongside a ticking grandfather clock. Y/N stubbornly stood, her forefinger tapping the quellazaire to sprinkle a pint of ash to the velvet. Her company stared at her dangerous frame, a familiar shudder tickling his spine. Y/N pushed the heavy drapes aside. The view of her wretched city greeted her from afar. Scowling, she took one last whiff off her cigarette  before tossing the holder aside.

"I'm bored," she breathed. "All these incompetent cops and their big, fat puppeteers hiding behind the municipal doors for nothing. I suppose it's time for me to start another show, no?"

"Jang Ivy's hosting a fashion ball this weekend," Pugsy informed. "All the elites are invited. You should make an appearance."

"Of course, the mayor's daughter always has to grab the spotlight," Y/N held her chin up. "But I exist, so the stage is mine, darling. After all, I was born to be the main spectacle of any occasion."

"The media begs to differ, miss."

"I don't care," she casually shrugged. "Tainted or not, we all know who's the real motherfucker in this game, Pugsy."

Y/N abandoned the dusty panes and sauntered across her study. Slumping back to her seat, she shot her ally a mischievous gaze.

"Round the boys this instant," she ordered. "This devil wants to have some fun."