layla 'double betrayla' fairbourne (boundless) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-12-01 22:51:00 |
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In a dark basement lair laden with discarded soft drink bottles and empty crisp packets, the owner of the @deatheaters Hooter handle was performing his nightly rituals on the internet. “Order of the Phoenix? More like Order of the Penisless. What have you liberal morons ever done for Wizardkind??,” he typed, snickering to himself as he snorted a gob of snot back up his weepy nose. “Why don’t you—” Tragically, the connection dropped before he could hit Send, and the current @deatheaters shouted at the ceiling, “Moooooom! The internet’s out again! FER SALAZAR’S SAKE MOM, WHAT DID YOU DO?! MOOOOOOM!” The door to the basement creaked open, and the sound of boots on the groaning stairs came a moment later. When the masked and cloaked Death Eater reached the bottom of the stairs, she announced her presence as her wand twirled through her fingers gracefully. “Mum’s not home,” she lied. The woman in question was merely stunned upstairs in her living room. “Besides, I’m not here to talk about your mum or her basement you’re living in — I believe you have something that belongs to us.” Brandon Dooley hadn’t been hard to find; his name was in the damn profile. He turned to face the unfamiliar voice, his eyes going wide at the sight of the Death Eater. Though he’d spent most of his time looking at artists’ renditions on the internet, nothing could really prepare him for meeting The Real Deal. “Merlin fuck! Is this a joke? Horatio, is that you? Wait—” He paused, then added, his voice hushed with awe, “Are you a girl?” He was too busy imagining who could be behind the mask that he completely ignored the latter part of her statement. Annoyed at the thought that this was a joke of any kind, Layla sneered behind her mask. “No,” she answered crisply, wand stopping it’s motions and resting in the palm of her hand. She slashed it to the right and a stack of Mountain Dew Code Red bottles hissed, fizzed, and then seemed to melt into globs on the already stained carpet. Her voice, altered as it was, still was distinctly feminine and so Layla ignored the question to press on. “The next time it’ll be your fingers, or your testicles. I want the Hooter account. You know which one.” He watched his collection bubble and melt with a mixture of terror and awe. “Hot,” he mumbled, though it was unclear whether he meant the plastic-lava mess or the Death Eater in front of him. He fell to his knees in front of her. “Anything you want! You can have anything you want. Fingers, testicles, Hooter… you name it, it’s yours.” he babbled. “You know, I’m like, your biggest fan, right?” It was a good thing the mask covered her look of perplexity because that would have ruined the mood. How did this idiot know she was hot, anyway? Not that he was wrong, of course, Layla mused. “Just the Hooter. I’ve changed my mind and don’t want to hear you say testicles ever again.” She shuddered mentally. “Of course! I’ve removed it from my vocabulary! I’ll never say it again!” he said quickly, then reached over to grab an old Chinese food menu and a marker. He scribbled the username and a password and handed it to her, hands shaking. “Thank you. Thank you.” Plucking the menu between her thumb and one finger with her black-gloved hand as if it held a deadly disease, Layla took a step back afterwards. She’d caught a whiff and wondered if this disgusting being was having a contest with one Willy Locke for most unbathed. And yet, despite coming what she’d come for, Layla was too curious for her own good. “Are you some fan or something?” He nodded eagerly. “Your biggest fan! This is such an honour. Such an honour.” To prove just how grateful he was, he moved to kiss her feet. “No!” she exclaimed, a little more harshly than she attended as the man moved towards her where she was standing. “No, that’s fine,” she amended, more sweetly and hating herself more than anything at this very moment. It was obvious how to use this creature. “The Dark Lord… appreciates—” she very much doubted that “—your dedication and support.” She paused, trying to think of words that wouldn’t make her hurl. “And so would I, if you kept up the support online, and in particularly slandered our enemies.” Thankfully the mask meant she didn’t have to smile or hide how disgusted she felt. His heart skipped a beat. The Dark Lord wanted his support. She wanted his support. “Anything for you, my Dark Goddess. I will destroy your enemies and spread your Evil Word, absolutely. Anything you want. Thank you for this opportunity to show my support for your Cause.” “Good.” Layla raised her wand to Apparate, but then a thought struck her. Why not give this hapless idiot a little show? He did support them, after all. “Perhaps we’ll be in touch.” They wouldn’t be. “And clean your room for Merlin’s sake.” Her wand swished, conjuring and trailing unnatural black smoke through the air that within seconds shielded her from view as if she were disappearing into darkness. It was a stupid parlour trick. Layla Fairbourne merely apparated out silently from the smoke leaving the young man alone in his mother’s basement. Even if the former owner of @deatheaters hadn’t been choking on the smoke, she would have taken his breath away. “Whoa,” he managed finally, still too stunned to get up off his filthy basement floor. “I gotta tell my WoW guild about this.” |