"Malcolm Eldridge was quite aware of the situation he was putting both himself, and his family in; but his pride and nobility continued to drive him further. Though what happened next would have been a shock, even to him. We have been unable to release any particular names, but we can announce that the Delacruz gang - a ruthless and cutthroat band of various criminals - were involved with the incident that night.
Mr and Mrs Eldridge were brutally murdered in their own home, the intruders easily managing to bypass the security measures the family had already set into place. By the time police arrived at the scene the criminals had fled, taking anything of value along with them.
One body was not accounted for though, that of their only daughter and child, Victoria Eldridge. She was 14 years of age when the attack occurred, and authorities believe that she may have somehow escaped the terror. She has not been spotted since that evening, but we are still hopeful that she is alive, and safe.
We wish to extend another public plea for information regarding her whereabouts. If you have seen anyone resembling this girl, please call..."
The small hand-held television was suddenly propped up beside the woman's head, she smiled, mimicking the image of the 14 year old almost perfectly before she tilted her head to the side, her blue eyes sparkling inquisitively as she regarded the bartender known as Maurice. "Have you seen this girl?" She teased in a serious monotone, mocking the voice of the news presenter they had just been listening too.
Maurice didn't find it as amusing, his bushy eyebrows knitted together in a frown, "Git goin', and behave yourself at the party."
The woman stood from her seat, tossing the device she'd been holding onto the bench, "You might want to keep watching, who knows what I'll get up to tonight." The news broadcast had finally ended, ushering in a pathetically predictable soapy that she knew the old bartender was fond of. Why anyone would waste their time with such drivel, she did not understand, but it kept him entertained in her absence.
"Oi, be careful with the t.v. would ya? Cost me an arm and a leg." Maurice chided, growing irritated by Victoria's carelessness when it came to technology. She simply waved a hand at him, turning on her heel, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips when she thought over his comment. It'd been her money, and it hadn't cost her an arm and a leg, more like an entire Delacruz member. The best trade she'd ever made.
The tavern was empty at this time of night, not that it was ever technically 'full'. It allowed them to converse freely, without having to worry about who could possibly overhear. As soon as she stepped out of the musty old place, reality kicked in.
Ever since the death of her father and mother, no single person had been courageous enough to stand up to the so called 'bullies' of the streets. The crime rate had risen to astounding heights, and the criminals themselves had sunk to horrible lows, prepared to do almost anything for a couple of bucks.
Though that wasn't always necessarily a bad thing.
Victoria felt out of place this evening, usually when she traversed the city it was in some sort of bulky cloak, or a hooded jacket. She had certainly changed in the past 10 years, but the solitary posters that sometimes littered the streets, portraying her as a 14 year old were somewhat unnerving. She couldn't afford to be recognized, not now, not ever. It would destroy her entire cause, everything she had been working towards since she'd become an orphan. That was why she'd spent quite some time playing with her appearance before this outing.
Her eye color was her usual, stand-out feature. The abysmal blue would ultimately be her downfall; so she'd organized a pair of contacts to lighten the shade. As for the rest of her face, she'd played with her make-up, highlighting certain features while disguising others. It hadn't turned out too bad actually, even Maurice took a few moments to realize it was indeed her. Then there was her figure. A slinky black cocktail dress and a nice pair of heels did the trick, she'd filled out considerably since her last public sighting...
Victoria was the perfect escort. A wonderful combination of elegance and inappropriateness. Enough to make a man's blood boil and his inside's curl. She just hoped that the Delacruz bastard she was meant to be accompanying actually showed. What had his name been? Brodie... Brooklyn... Bruce...
After turning another corner she arrived at her destination, sighing in relief when she saw the car parked and patiently waiting for her. She crossed the street, examining the car when she grew closer to it. Some type of new model Bentley, if she'd assumed correctly. It was classy, to say the least. Hopefully the owner resembled his beast.
The driver's door opened slowly, revealing a lanky middle-aged man. When he'd straightened out properly she cringed - he was much, much taller than her. "Good evening miss." He chimed pleasantly, opening the one of the back doors before looking to her expectantly. She mumbled a thanks and slid into the soft leather seat, quite aware of the man that sat across from her.
Conversation wasn't what she was being paid for, so she remained silent, her hands crossed in front of her. It took all of the self-control she had to refrain from snickering, her 'host' for this evening was utterly entranced. She'd recalled his face immediately, and he was now permanently registered in her mind. He had kicked down their door, over 10 years ago, and fired the first bullet. This man thought he'd gotten lucky tonight, but he was so, so wrong.
