"Our mom didn't buy any guns—that's lame," the blue-haired girl muttered as she tore through the small house, searching for weapons. "Guess we'll have to settle for a good old knife," she said, her expression darkening. Despite her small frame, she now possessed the physical prowess and mentality of a top-tier assassin, though she lacked actual field experience. That gap in her skillset felt like an insult to her bloodline. She needed to kill to cement her and her host's place in the family's history and power structure.
Her methodical preparation for the act was chilling: a combat knife from an old survival kit, clothes she didn't mind ruining with blood and gore. "I'm missing traps—tripwires, garrotes—and some religious stuff. Magic too. I need so much, but I have so little."
"Wait," she paused. "Where the hell are those unnatural bastards?" Chloe quickly hid her amateur murder kit under the kitchen sink. She had access to her host's memories, but unlike the higher-ups, she didn't have a supernatural radar.
Her friends seemed normal enough for punks. Nothing supernatural about them—except one. Their friend's hair was an unnatural shade of red, a color that didn't exist in nature. And there was only one bloodline with that shade.
Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain hit Chloe. The switch between personalities was excruciating. She staggered back upstairs to her bed, hoping her other side wouldn't discover the little project she had started. "Jesus, fine! You can have your turn, you spiteful—" Her cries were cut short as her personality shifted.
"Fucking hell, my head... it's about time that migraine went away." She had no idea how much time had passed since she took those meds and passed out, but they must've been potent. "Guess I better get to the schoolwork Mom left me."
To the outside world, she was just a thug. But off the streets, she only bent the rules for her closest friends and her mother.
---
School was boring, but a necessary step toward success in the American economy. Though having a fancy certificate didn't guarantee a job, it was better not to think too hard about that. That's what I—Kloud—decided as I sat in the school parking lot, grateful my parents had let me take Dad's old car.
Yesterday had been full of chaos, but I was relieved today seemed normal. At least, until I heard the sounds: *Clank. Crack. Tear.*
A hole in space-time opened in front of me. Shit. The chaos had followed me after all. From the crack, a grey arm emerged—ashen and fire-scarred. I jumped back as fast as I could. In the blink of an eye, the creature was already right in front of me. Its black eyes, horns, ashen-grey hair, and muscular frame screamed one thing: it wasn't human.
"Leave me alone! I don't even know you!" I yelled, trying not to provoke it. Its inhuman speed was terrifying—it could cross distances in a fraction of a second.
"Bastreeeee!" it screeched, launching itself at me. I dodged, adrenaline surging, and shouted, "Fine, then! Come at me, motherfucker!"
But the next thing I knew, I was flying across the parking lot, slammed into the nearby playground.
"Fucking hell!" I cursed. Something was definitely broken—maybe several things. My leg had a deep gash, and it looked like the thing had thrown me here. No time to think. Boom. Crack. The berserker crashed into the playground. I dodged, but the shockwaves threw me into a tree. Blood streamed from my mouth.
I staggered to my feet, using the tree for support. I had to find an opening. My left eye could make out magical energy from the creature's movements, confirming it wasn't fighting at full strength. Its ashen figure appeared behind me—this was my chance.
---
As the beast charged, Kloud, injured and leaning against the tree, did the unexpected. She turned and kicked it with all her remaining strength. The blow connected.
The beast retreated, following its master's orders. They feared that continuing the attack would awaken her true power—a risk neither of them wanted to take. Their boss wouldn't tolerate more obstacles.
"How the hell am I going to explain the blood in the car?" Kloud muttered, coughing up more blood. At least the car was unharmed—but she sure wasn't.
*Chapter end.*
Where have I been writing fanfiction duh I'm coming back