PIXEL
Bouncing on my heels, I was practically vibrating with glee as I waited for the group to follow me. When Aunt Phea had ordered me to come here, I wasn’t sure what to expect. However, it was an opportunity to get out of the house and away from all of my sisters and cousins, so I’d eagerly jumped at it. I never expected it to actually be enjoyable. I liked Loren and the Mascros. They were good people, and they didn’t treat me like I was lesser-than because I was more of a 'behind-the-scenes' Siren.
It was nice to be appreciated for my genius for once.
The fact they let me run wild with my ideas also suited me. It was a level of trust I wasn’t often given. Back home, I was Pixel, the screwup. Or, Pixel, the one who always went too overboard. Perhaps my least favorite moniker was Pixel, the Siren with no game. Being surrounded by your gorgeous family day in and day out only reminded you how much you failed at being an actual Siren.
The real reason I was behind the scenes was that I sucked at being a true Siren.
It had been a total gamble for me to distract the guards on the rescue mission, and truth be told, I hadn’t done well with it either, considering I’d blown it up. Oops.
Yeah, I had a penchant for explosives. They were too fun not to play with.
“So, what do we have?” Loren asked as she took a seat.
I clicked a button on the remote, and a screen lowered from the wall. Once it was in position, I hit play from my laptop. The live feed came into view, and everyone turned to watch it.
“It’s showtime,” I said, smiling as I zoomed it in onto our target. Jacqueline Hanover and Dayton Mascro sat at a table with a few others. I didn’t know who they were, but the others did based on the looks around the room.
“Son of a bitch,” Oscar the Grouch sneered, looking at the table in disgust. I didn’t inquire who it was yet; it didn’t matter. The main event was about to occur.
“Wait for it,” I said, watching a separate screen on my laptop. The moment the numbers cleared, I looked over at the projector screen. “Now.” I turned up the sound so we could all hear.
The waiter looked nervous as he walked over to the table, bending down to whisper into Dayton’s ear. The Kingpin’s face turned red, and he slammed his fist onto the table, making everyone around him jump.
“Rerun it,” he demanded.
The waiter looked nervous but held his ground. “Sorry, sir, but it’s been run three times, and the company is saying we should report it stolen at this point. Do you have another card?”
Dayton’s face began to glow red with irritation as he stared at the waiter. “Here,” Jaqueline said, producing a card and handing it to the waiter. He hurried off, wanting out of Dayton’s murderous gaze. Jacqueline patted Dayton’s arm like he was a misbehaving schoolboy, his deadly gaze turning to her. He jerked his arm free, turning back to his guests.
“This is my son’s doing,” he stated, daring them to argue. It didn’t take long for the waiter to return, this time with the manager in tow.
“Sorry, ma’am, but it appears your card was declined as well.”
At this point, the whole restaurant was watching. I could only assume that Dayton had wanted to be seen, giving himself a solid alibi. The downfall of that was it also gave us a larger stage to set them up and watch them fall.
Jacqueline didn’t seem to care that everyone was watching, or perhaps it was a more significant faux pas for her to be accused of being poor. “No, that’s not correct. Try it again!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in volume.
A few people I’d sent in started to pull out their phones, recording the incident. Once I saw them being streamed with the hashtag we’d made, I set my bots free, lighting up social media. This would be trending before they even left the restaurant.
As Loren’s mother started to escalate, I realized Dayton was being too quiet. I looked up and found everyone watching. Turning my head, I found him staring right at the camera feed we had playing. He mimed slitting our throats before he stood, dropping his napkin on the table. He pulled Jacqueline with him, not listening to the manager yell for them to stop and pay their bill.
The rest of the men around the table looked around worriedly, trying to figure out what was happening. Dayton and Jacqueline made it to the door but then were accosted by paparazzi outside, hurling questions at them left and right.
“Is it true you’re bankrupt?”
“Did you sell your daughter to become richer?”
“Why did you fake your own death?”
“Are you the real reason behind the D&D Trade corp stock crashing?”
“What are your plans now that you’re back?”
“Do you believe you’re above the law?”
As they attempted to fight off the cameras and reporters, we watched as Dayton looked around for his men. The men the Mascro guards had already bound and gagged twenty minutes ago. The next part was my little secret that I’d set up, wanting to put them both in their place.