[color=silver][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/9HVDZ7z.gif[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/K3mtjUv.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/yojCt6l.gif[/img][/center]
[indent][hr][/indent]
[indent]Francisco Delgado Jr. was one of those men who never stayed in one place for more than a week at a time. It wasn’t good for the trade he specialized in. His employer understood that which was the exact reason why he was only contracted for jobs that included him to acquire entry into whichever location his target — no matter whether it was a person or object — was, procure his target, and once it had been made secure in the designated drop off point, the usual orders he’d receive through a secure line was to meet an associate of his employer who’d handle the transfers: Item for payment. That was how it went. Always.

As soon as the transaction had been done, the next series of orders for Francisco after any job was to lay low in exactly five towns over and await the next job.

This was Francisco’s life. This was what he did every month, receiving exactly one-hundred-thousand US dollars each time a job had been completed. And each time, he’d assume a new identity to ensure absolute anonymity. 

Of course, there were always risks. It came with the nature of the job, but Francisco, being the kind of resourceful man that he was, always had a backup plan in case things didn’t go according to what his handler specified he’d do. 

Such as his most recent job that had him tailing an Italian businessman who was importing [i]special[/i] goods with an appeal from various well-connected parties. Among these goods was a special statue, which was rumored to have been crafted over a century ago by some great craftsman that has found its way from one pair of hands owning it to another. It was strange. It was one that had the form of two dragons or serpent-like creatures interlock in each other’s forms and ended up facing opposite directions of each other. It was also said it had two, priceless gems 

That’s what Francisco was hired to obtain. It wasn’t the statue itself that he was contracted to steal. Those gems that were rumored to be worth more than the largest fortune was what a certain representative on behalf of the Rossi crime family, someone represented Giovanni Rossi’s interests, was in New York City for. There was a special shipping container coming at night on a freighter. The dock workers who were set to work that night had been paid off and a group of seven men who had been hired through various shell organizations to investigate the shipping container the statue was said to be in. However, when it went down and Francisco had been listening in not far from it, he overheard through the phones of the hired muscle’s phones(he synced his with theirs), he heard them speak in Italian but was able to catch a few phrases that he knew.

The bitch isn’t here.

That’s what they said. On that night, Francisco had to assume the ‘bitch’ was the statue, which had brought his investigation to a speeding halt. 

And a few weeks passed. Francisco had reported his failure to his handler but told them he’d keep searching. He never liked to leave jobs unfinished and for a month more, he had kept his ears peeled and contacted all of the contacts he had made in his lengthy career. They had sent him anywhere from the neighbors of America’s north, Canada to his distant cousins, Mexico. He also found himself in the various, surrounding countries and islands. A full month and the trail had gone from hot to cold; lukewarm to scathing hot only for him to catch his first, major break.

According to one of his exes who was fortunate to forgive him after she caught him with her sister alerted him of a city that really had no name. It had several of them, but the most common name for it was called ‘The Badlands’. As weird as it sounded, the lead was credible. His ex had heard it from someone that you only knew through the process of “I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy”. Francisco hadn’t known what the details exactly, but she had told him all she knew and that the statue was somewhere in the Badlands.

Once he had arrived in this odd city, he discovered something about it almost instantaneously: it was full of wonders. It had equal parts of modern architecture and gothic imagery. It was like something straight out of a picture book that highlighted religious buildings and technological breakthroughs. That wasn’t even considering how beautiful its parks and rivers were. How one could easily get lost in its vastness, Francisco was reminded of his homeland of Spain. Not because it had similar appearances, but rather how it seemed so beautiful and rich with stories. Not one moment had gone by that he found himself in awe, practically forgetting his real reason for coming here.

Though he didn’t forget about his purpose for trekking here, it would’ve been rude of him to not enjoy the sights. Who knew how long he’d have before the job demanded his full, usually-divided(mostly towards the opposite sex) attention? As they say: Gotta enjoy the little things.

So, Francisco had done just that. For a full day(and some into the next), he indulged in some of what this place had to offer. From casinos to clubs, he spent several c-notes just giving into the temptations. He had even paid for a few nights of some…[i]private[/i] entertainment. If this city truly was a bad land, then he’d show them just how [i]bad[/i] he could be. 

But of course, after a while, he was contacted by his handler. They informed him that the statue had made its reappearance at some building known as the Herilon Building. At the moment he was told this, Francisco could have sworn he saw that name before. Only after pondering it seriously did he remember. Of course, it came after he had pounded away a glass of wine. It was this odd building which had some angelic statues at the top of it. Apparently, there was a big story behind it. One of his [i]friends[/i] told him about as they were ‘talking’. It had been quite the tale. Something symbolic, sure, but probably not up Francisco’s alley. Although, it did give him some ideas.

But first thing’s first! He had to pay for the time well-spent with his “friend”.

He handed his female companion of the night a few one-hundred dollar bills. She was a beauty. Her skin was like freshly-fallen snow but her eyes had a glimmer of burnt auburn while her hair was a natural honey shade. She was so thankful for his hospitality, she gave him her personal number should he need it for [i]anything[/i]. [color=brown]“Como siempre, mi hermosa rosa.”[/color] He spoke, his voice oozing a rich, Spanish accent that practically made her knees weak as she forced herself to walk out the door, closing it as she left Francisco to his solitude.

He was in a room he had paid to stay in for a full week. This had come just before he got the news about that Herilon building and had staked it out, showing up as someone who loved art, which wasn’t a total lie. He did enjoy art of all kinds, but he was doing this purely to scope the place out. Every day around midday, he had dressed up in his finest suit that brought out every part of his physical attributes in the perfect way. His eyes that glimmered like amber but toned down when in the artificial light of the building and his dark locks were groomed back to show off his above-average forehead, but most importantly, in the light, his normally-light brown skin was darkened just slightly, yet it was obvious to anyone who glanced towards his direction that he was a charming, attractive male. And if they met his expectations, there might’ve been a glance back at them.

This was Francisco Delgado Jr, Spain’s Forgotten Rose. A fire had fuelled his passion for anything — or any[i]one[/i] — he did. And like the sun had on the day he’d take action in Herilon, Francisco rose from his bed, a glimmer of red aligning as the sun shone in his face. He stretched to the sounds of birds chirping just on his balcony. 

Time to get to work.[/indent][/color]