Plotting is the most fun a girl can have.
Nothing like a new beginning to spark your creative muse.
Legs crossed over one another, the rest of her person firmly planted in a silk sofa, courtesy of the modeling agency she’d blessed with her business for — how many years?— quite some time, to say the least, Junko sat in thought. Two slender digits rested on either side of her angular jaw, her pout partly borne of boredom and partly borne of a lack of victims around a place already tainted too deeply without her help, she let out an exasperated sigh before resigning to another hour wasted on the search for new campaigns. Despair spread by itself at a painfully slow pace — that was no fun, not at all. Watching an art you’d devoted your entire being to disseminate at such an unbearable rate wasn’t at all pleasant. There was no chase, no satisfaction behind each event. It left a girl hollow and bitter, that hollow excuse for relief. What she desired was the real thing — to dig her ruby talons six inches deep into the flesh of any pathetic target, to violate their hope and enjoy the euphoria of victory.
But where did one find such a worthless piece of trash? This was the real question. Too many had closed their hearts off to strangers, and faking a bond lacked appeal, at least for now. Perhaps releasing this pent up resentment, this agonizing ache, would lift her spirits. But only perhaps. Still, a small chance seemed better than nothing, at least with a shroud of madness on her side; despair had a way a tracing her path with care and precision, never allowing its mistress to stray too far from its reach. Having gained such a loyal follower, the ominous presence wouldn’t relinquish its iron grip so easily. Not that she could point a finger — the ones she’d managed to twist and bend to fit her will, humans of lesser existences, were always the least fun but the most effective at carrying out her dark means. Of course it took a bit of her satisfaction away, not being able to do the dirty work herself all of the time, but discretion was necessary. If you wanted to rule the world, secrets would be the most crucial piece of the puzzle.
“Upupupu …" In her demented mind, though as the trains of thought were conducted in full clarity, it remained perfectly logical, she pondered ways to bring about a wonderfully sadistic end for earth.. It would, of course, need to be fit of one of her unique stature, one last act to bring about an end to the foul existence human beings had prolonged. Many would argue that new breakthroughs and discoveries opened new doors, made people worthwhile. This, however, couldn’t have been more incorrect in the eyes of she. They searched all, and could never be incorrect in their observations. It simply was impossible — nothing had been overlooked. These new things, these blind stumbles for a falling star or two among her glorious shroud of night were pitiful, miserable, and downright wrong. Quite simply, life had no hope. It never would, and never had, and for that, Junko would never stop the impending doom that this cruel, cruel world had been begging for since the start.
Insanity had such a numbing lull, one that was as irresistible as Junko herself. Knowing full well of her good looks, ones that had granted her such stardom as a result of such plastic and superficial features, she took little care in feigning surprise upon discovering yet another target, a pure, clean city awaiting her despair’s sweet embrace. A place full of new opportunity and amiability, a place begging for her mark to be left behind. How could she not oblige, in such a situation, anyhow? As a self proclaimed queen, her title self bestowed, she had the most sincere of obligations to corrupt the vast expanses of her rule. There would always be virgin flesh begging for the lash of her cruel, venomous words, ruins in need of further desolation to heighten their keen beauty. With her vast ability and cool heart, Enoshima Junko was the only girl for the job. Now came about the matter of deciding one one punishment that would serve a queen well, that would bring a chuckle to rose petals lips as well as a thin trickle of scarlet, depending on the gruesome nature of her crime.
Where to find that, you might ask?
The only way to exploit fear was to find it in others. Perfectly aware of what must be done, though it had evaded her so very long to come across, she rose from her throne to take a self assured step. Nothing that the superior Junko, the one in control when duress was no threat to her clever and evasive way of being, could ever be less that queenly. The superior Junko was stronger than any man, was tougher than the steel from which had produced her cheap, tin heart. Even in the solace of her own hotel suite, there was always reason to walk with a bit of swagger, to exude confidence and make sure all those filthy pigs walked as you deserted them just like they’d done to you when your angelic aesthetic had been obscured by a layer of muck and dust, all courtesy of the streets. Though she could feign bitterness, and perhaps even mean it, there was one thing to be said on the negligence she’d suffered all those years — without it all, she certainly wouldn’t have these grandiose schemes to put into action.
A tongue moistened plump, sugar lips, careful not the smudge the sheer layer of gloss that gave her dollish appearance and extra oomph. Charcoal lined the vibrant sapphire gaze that flickered with a rage so insatiable it could drive a man to madness, only a hint of the power she could wield if it were called for. Thick lashes fluttered against porcelain flesh, tender and yet so chillingly perfect, only highlighting the intensity of her imploring stare that bored into any who dared meet it. Lush curls of strawberry blonde cascaded down her willowy, falling to the small of her back with ease and tumbling over her full chest in a way that seemed nearly too adulterous to be displayed so brazenly, all to give the youngest Enoshima a rather haunting beauty that could be rivaled by no other. With a quick and fluid gesture, she’d already made it through her own barriers and out the door. This, it would seem, was too simple to be true. Of course no one suspected her, the teen with a body rivaling the biggest bimbos that had sold themselves out before her. One slender, yet irrecoverably toned, leg dangled, the owner of the heavy boot attached hesitating for dramatic effect, before the feminine figure followed in pursuit. Feeling all attention trained upon her, and before the grande entrance she’d planned, no less, Junko couldn’t help but allow a Cheshire grin to cross her elfin features. Gifting her admirers with a three fingered salute, she continued on without another word. Clicking against cool tile, her boots left a melody of finality behind their mistress, a dismissal without a single syllable.
Ah, the irony of it. Wasn’t that just the way they’d all take their final breaths at her hands?
Giggling at the sheer divinity of that musing, a hidden connection no others would care to make, she threw out two thin arms. Hoping the cool air would pacify her excitement, at least enough to dull her conspicuous appearance, today seemed a wonderful day to find a new place to strike. Locked and loaded, she had only to say the word and the missiles would fire. No mercy would be met by the unsuspecting citizens, only the harsh reality of their foolishness. Who, after all, should greet such a mysterious girl with a warm welcome? Enough maws agape, ashes surrounding their bloated and stiffening corpses, had been left behind for anyone with even an ounce of common sense to know. Oh, but wait — what a tragedy. No one knew the mastermind behind all of that, it was merely a freak accident. Yes, that was how mankind had chosen to rationalize one of her best works. A personal favorite, the old conquest was now only remembered by those with no interests outside of scholarly duties and, of course, the perpetrator herself.
“C’mon, you filthy pigs. I expected more of a fight from the top of the food chain," she snickered, cupping her hushed cursed in one hand with ease. Now was no time to reprimand the stupidity that would, no doubt, be the final key in her hostile takeover. The world needed suspicion, and a lot of it. Didn’t it send off some kind of alarm when a girl of her stature, already a respect 5’7” and blessed with an hourglass figure, walked in just about anywhere, let alone such a publicized location, by her lonesome? Where was a guard? Where was the boy of the week, one to make tabloids for a simple spark of curiosity they’d aroused within the famed Enoshima Junko? It was almost too easy, this analysis. Humans grew stupider by the second, the air slowly depriving them of any chance at logical thought. Hope flourished, another testament to this idiocy that never seemed to cease in its entirety. But then again — the thrill was all about the agony her excruciating would inspire. If the public wished to stay ignorant to her plans, to never have any doubt, she’d let them. Had they clued in, though, it could have been the absolute best thrill to take them out.
Speaking of a new victim — come on, now, little rodent. Do you wish to seal your doom?
Spinning on her heel, to sure of herself not to fall flat, the stiletto boots she so often donned screamed in protest of her haste. Tendrils of silky blonde flew with her, beating against the chest of another like a whip. Though her company must have expected some sense of surprise, it was most certainly not the case with Junko. A strange brand of crazy she was, a real freak on a collision course, who would flash such a smile at a stranger. Not one to hold back on enthusiasm, the rush of being disturbed when in her darkest thoughts had only loosened any sense of constraint she’d still been in possession of. This man — yes, definitely a man, — had only stopped her the time, if her predictions had been correct. With one finger resting on the head of a rather expensive looking watch, the glassy surface embedded with a spiderweb of cracks and fragmented crystal, one could hardly see the daintily painted numerals beneath the chaos. Taking a tentative step back, his nasally voice only confirmed her suspicions. Casting her features downward, more than a little disappointed, idle fingers combed the state of disarray that had come about of the short and woefully average interaction. Giving a slight shrug of reply, he gave a hurried thanks before waddling away, his awkward aura still lingering long after his disappearance.
Well that was no fun. Huffing a bit, sulking on the street corner she’d occupied for far too long, Junko sighed and fluffed her mane once more. Shaking out the tension that pent up ecstasy had manifested into, she turned once more. Though more sensible in speed, it lacked the rash logic of a girl of her title. As a fashion girl, one deserving of the highest title in her country, perhaps the whole, miserable world, she should seem much more animated. That disappointment, though, had taken far too much of her energy to put up an equally brazen and facetious facade. These people were all bellow her, anyhow — lesser souls. It wasn’t as if they’d noticed anything else a bit peculiar about her personage, and upon second thought, she doubted that her lack of pep would hardly be a point of interest for anyone. Azure gaze still glued to the dull, bleak grays that all muddled against the vibrancy of their beholder, she couldn’t have been less in thought than she was on the busy streets of a town that would meet its demise on her mere whims and wishes. A bit of laughter came about at that, though an at perfectly controlled by she. Everything was under her grasp, as she was supreme and —
“What — ? —hey, you! Watch where you’re going, you dog!" Snapping at the second intrusion of her plotting, the short fuse on her explosive temper effectively triggered by an air of casual indifference that had been budged out of place by this man, or woman, she wasn’t quite sure which. No matter the gender of the intruder, it had been unwelcome and would only lead to another spark of despair at the idle hands of a young mastermind. Jaw turned, her intense stare landing upon an unsuspecting passerby, Junko considered the ramifications of acting so enthusiastic one moment and so aloof the next. Were people really that stupid, or was it expected for a celebrity of her standing to act out in such irrational fits and whims? Deciding she didn’t much care, as sticking to a plan letter by letter was no fun. Let suspicions fall upon her, if these mutts decided to awake from their stupors. It only made the game that much more intriguing, that much more worth it. Examining a splayed hand, admiring her own manicure, she awaited some kind of rushed apology from the stranger before a quick run for safety. Allowing her gaze to flicker over the unfamiliar features, not too interested in any particular point — no one proved to be very intriguing, as she’d had enough eye candy to last a lifetime by looking in a mirror, — Junko gave a grimace of dismay. "Why are you even still here, you filth?"
Lips stretching into a wide, beaming grin, her intent expression reeking of malicious intent, she implored some kind of response. Tapping her foot, pulling out each and every stop at intimidation she could manage, she taunted and teased her new victim. They’d managed to last this long, and therefore, were worthy of capturing her attention. Lest they turn into yet another blemish on the face of an already dreadful day, this new toy could prove some source of enjoyment. Methodical means of torture, each horrific and woefully envious, came to her in cloudy weather, after all, and today she was on fire; the screams of innocents would be just the thing to perk her up, if needed. This in mind, Junko managed to loosen the tension in her feminine figure, letting her hips sink and her shoulders go lax. Shooting a customary greeting, her warning flares up, she felt a new personality take over. Outrageous; that was one word to call it. Though it’d made its appearance many times before, this third shift in persona was sure to induce a good deal of confusion within this new little animal, this fresh prey. Sculpted brows raised, her posture radiating power, she practically barked a formal introduction.
“Be lucky you met me, scum. You know who I am? Let me inform you, pathetic loser! It’s Ensohima Junko-chaaaan! Bow to me, maybe I’ll let you walk away with a story to tell!" Crossing her arms around a full chest, she awaited some kind of timid stutter, perhaps a nervous quirk or two that would make the model shudder with despair, weaken her knees with the misery of such an unsatisfying response, shatter her own long standing despair with a dagger of uncertainty. Ah, but that was taking it all a bit too far. Wasn’t she over thinking it, just a bit? Perhaps it’d be best to simply respond with due information to assess and break down before entertaining such a delightful concept. First impressions were always important, after all, and she had no intention of letting someone escape without reaping a reward from her efforts; what a terrible feeling that would be! "Mind tellin’ me who exactly ya think you are? Or do I havet’a do somethin’ extreme for that to happen?”
titsay
2087
turnnoffyourmind
theartofmadeline