A Pyrrhic Victory (AE x Victiorian Virtue)

[AlluringEnigma]

Sierra Simmons had never really experienced a moment where she truly dropped everything. She was a confident multitasker, and her life consisted more or less of reporting on the mundane processes of the local political machine. Despite living in a town full of scandal and intrigue, she had spent most of her last five years relegated to busywork. It seemed her fiery temperament and sharp wit was hardly conducive to the bureaucracy of local news. The luster of her dream job had faded fast when she realized the hurdles she would have to jump through in order to get the stories she deserved.

After years under her far less talented seniors, she had finally struck a bargain with the devil, and tonight it seemed it would pay off. Sierra nearly dropped her phone as the tip was relayed to her. The veracity of her source was yet to be determined, their deal struck upon their first meeting in some hole in the wall restaurant, but if his information was good, Sierra would soon find herself on the express track to the top.

As soon as she heard him disconnect, she dropped the phone on the bed of her small apartment. There was an urgency in her actions, even if she had about an hour to reach a bar only a few blocks away. Either way, she had to be dressed properly for such an event. This was her big break, and she planned to look smashing for the occasion, even if no one was there to witness her outfit.

As per her usual standard, her flaxen locks hung below her shoulders, slightly wavy but worn without any sort of preparation besides that. Deciding that she couldn’t exactly justify a ballroom gown without drawing more attention than she desired, Sierra instead settled on a blue cocktail dress that clung to her pale figure, a dark-colored affair that was only a few shades darker than her irises. Sierra had never been a model, but she was in good shape for a twenty eight year old. When dressing to impress, she tended to draw more attention to her bust than her behind, as the former drew far more attention than the latter. Nothing about Sierra approached the flawless perfection that models strove for, but any girl would be happy to have her features.

With a little more than half an hour to spare after applying a generous layer of cherry-red lipstick and her usual array of makeups, only a short walk separated her from her big break. The whole journey to the bar, her black high heels clicking along the pavement, she could feel her heart beating against her chest. The thought crossed her mind that the arrangement she had made would have further implications than a simple exchange of information, the devil she had bargained clearly wanted more out of her than a weapon to take down his enemies through the press. However, Sierra quickly brushed it aside, confident that whatever he wanted she would be able to downplay or manage.

Her train of thought was short for this world anyways. Her immediate entry into the bar revealed the exact information she had been seeking. The councilman, a man famous for his stone-cold stare and hard stance on crime, was seated on the lap of a man half his age. Councilman Jones’ grandiose and uncoordinated movements clearly indicated just how drunk he was. Sierra could hardly reach for her phone fast enough.

With the advent of the digital age, news no longer waited until the morning to be reported. Her editor was practically salivating by the fourth or fifth shot, and the news was broken to the site, credited directly to her. Sierra Simmons had just broken the biggest news story of the year for the city. No doubt political allies and enemies were already jockeying to profit, or avoid disaster, off Frank Jones’ impending doom. The general public would be unaware until tomorrow, but the major players had already set their gears in motion; Frank Jones was politically dead.

As per her source’s implicit request, she immediately texted him “Frank Jones is no more. Assume you’re still interested in meeting, like you specified at first meeting. I’ll wait for you at the agreed spot. Let me know if plans change.” Sierra Simmons walked out of the bar, the grin on her face unaffected by the looming meeting with her source. Today was a new beginning for the young-ish reporter, and almost nothing could ruin her spirits.

 

[AlluringEnigma]

Her new handler, so to speak, had the fashion sense of a mafia man in the golden era of organized crime. He oozed class from head to toe, the expense of his outfit showing in the subtle details of an expert tailor. From what Sierra knew of the man, the outfit seemed to fit him. A good bit of the city ran through him and the outfit reflected just that, commanding attention and respect from all those who saw it.

Consequently, it wasn’t exactly tough for her to discern him amongst the patrons at the Broken Spoke. The bar was typical for the inner city, full of trodden down ethnic men drinking away the grind of their daily lives. It was clear just from his outfit that James didn’t belong. The blonde, as she walked to his table began to wonder why he chose such a hole in the wall to meet. While discretion was certainly advised, Sierra Simmons was not recognizable enough to warrant such an incognito place.

She quickly dismissed the train of thought. Trying to discern the meanings of his every action was futile, he was far more informed than her. Sierra needed to make sure that her flow of information remained uninterrupted. The Frank Jones story would soon vault her career upwards, but she couldn’t afford to lose that new place among the stars by being complacent.
Despite the man’s attractiveness, he was quite good looking for a criminal even with his scar, she had little interest in him romantically. Not only would such a notion violate her last remaining shreds of impartiality, it was risky to date any sort of criminal, especially a kingpin. Sierra intended to tantalize, promising far more than what she ever intended to deliver; perhaps a flirty line here or an accidental brush-up there, but nothing more than that else she risk him insisting on anything more than a professional relationship.

Upon reaching the table she flashed him a warm grin, extending her hand to shake. The key to this meeting was confidence, at least in her mind. If she came off as subservient in any way, it would give him the upper hand in their relationship. Sierra wanted to do her best to convince him that she was just as essential to him as he was to her. Perhaps she was ignorant of the intellect James no doubt possessed or perhaps she simply hoped he was far too busy to really take advantage of her, but it was doubtful that he really thought she held any of the cards.

Sierra took a seat across from him and smiled as she picked up her drink, swirling it around in her hand as she spoke. “I must say, you delivered just as promised. It almost makes me want to know how you knew where he’d be and who he’d be with.” Sierra paused for a moment, before adding “Don’t worry, I’m not actually interested in your methods, just your information.” The champagne-haired girl took a sip of her martini. She wasn’t much of a fan of the particular drink, but it would have been unwise to refuse what he offered.

“So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to know why we’re meeting. After all, it seems a simple phone call would have sufficed if you had another lead. I’m not sure what else we would have to talk about.” Sierra was doing her best to remain calm and collected with a slight hint of flirtation, but she suspected that she wasn’t completely suppressing her nerved from his hawkish gaze. The truth was she had no idea why he had called her here, and that scared her. She wondered if he would even tell her why they were meeting, he didn’t seem like the man who just gave away information without reason.

 

[AlluringEnigma]

Sierra took a deep breath as she absorbed his words. Her past was not littered with dark secrets and regrettable choices, but rather one of boring mundanity. In fact, the prospect of creating some sort of dirt on her scared the rising reporter to death. This man took his business seriously, and she had no idea what he would require of her to fully trust her. The thought was exhilarating in a way, though. There was a new flood of adrenaline from the uncertainty of his request. This new life of sneaking around in the shadows, living in the gray areas of journalism, excited her and was something akin to an adventure novel.

Tentatively, and with a bit of a quivering in her voice, she began to speak. “Trust is important. I can understand that Mr. Rose. However, I’m afraid I have no dark part of my soul. I’m afraid my life has been quite ordinary up until this point.” Sierra Simmons paused and took a drink. Despite her distaste for the drink, the burn of alcohol on her throat helped her to swallow her decision. She had flirted with the devil in her first meeting, but her next words were akin to signing on the dotted line.

“You give me valuable information. You take me more seriously than any of the other workers at the paper. You buy me drinks and have the common decency not to talk down to me. I’m willing to trust you since you trusted me. I’ll do whatever you ask of me. Whatever you need to ensure my discretion, I’m willing to give” she added.

Sierra leaned back and took a deep breath as she realized the implications of her statement. She had just given a blank check to a conman, and the thought terrified her. However, this was her last option. She had no meaningful career in journalism without his information, and that was the most important thing in her life.

A few moments of silence felt like eternity, and she broke first, quietly asking “What do you want me to do?” she asked, her voice revealing just how nervous she truly was.