Authors writing the story:

Alcyon Moire, Brisken, Devilish Dream

Wandering in the Mists

Running

Mikan

My breathing abruptly stops when I hear the heavy footsteps make their way up the creaky, wooden steps. Please, I pray, please let him stumble past my room, please.

The sound of his erratic steps disappears as he tread down the long, carpeted hall. I can just see him: his lavender locks sticking to his ghost white skin, his black cloak swaying with his unstable body. Somewhere in his pockets are little baggies filled with white powder, needles, and his signature mask to shield his clouded periwinkle eyes.

Suddenly, the footsteps cease by my door. I cling onto the soft, pink pillow captured within my arms and abide. My heart slams against my chest and I feel the itching urge to open my lips and let oxygen enter; but I cannot. If I breathe, he'll know that I'm here and the devil will recruit me for another 'memorable meeting'.

My oak wood door is brutally ripped from its hinges and in walks my living nightmare. Just as I thought, he's sweating like a pig and is as pale as paper. I know he's been taking some of his own magic by the way the man is already seemingly out of breath; just from walking up the stairs and stumbling down the hall.

His clammy hand rises slowly and eventually points one long finger at me. My face, once filled with trepidation, is emotionless. It's best to not show fear before the Demon. After all, that's how he feeds.

"You," That voice shakes me from my very core, but I do not flinch. Instead, I stand tall and sturdy, awaiting his next move. Will it be a blow or a command? Only time will tell.

Judging from his stumbling and the horrid stench rolling off from his very being, he is drunk. Plus he seems to have gotten high from his own weed since he's shaking and dripping with sweat.

"Bitch, answer me when I speak!" He grabs my tawny hair and yanks it to the ground. I saw the move coming before he even spoke, but if I dodged it, all hell would break loose. Agility, combat, and intelligence wise, I was stronger than Persona; you'd think I'd win a battle against him. But there are two things that obscure my victory.

1) He always carries a gun in his black, leather boots.

2) Persona is my father.

"You're gonna traffic for me tonight, eh?" I clutch my fists and bite my bottom lip to prevent myself from attacking him and letting loose a string of profanities.

"Yes, Persona," my voice sounds small and weak; I hate it. But if I dare sound any stronger or braver, he'd shoot me, right through my stomach. Trust me, he's done it before. True, he was drunk and high, like now, but still, no father should do the things that he does to me.

Persona always makes me traffic his drugs. Ever since I could walk, he's been teaching me how to fight, how to put a gun together and how to wield it, how to make deals, even how to create drugs; rip-off ones of course. After several attempts, he's also taught me how to assassinate people without a single trace of remorse and how to always keep an ear and eye open for suspicious sounds or acts. I am eighteen. I've been jumped fifty times, shot twelve, stabbed twenty-one, and left for death eleven times.

As you can tell, I'm not your average girl.

Persona throws me across the room and mutters, "Good girl," before starting to waltz out of my room.

But before he can leave completely, Sumire storms in.

"Daddy!" She whines. "I'm much better at selling drugs. Why don't you ever send me?"

He glares at his other daughter as she cocks a hip and flips her forest green, permed hair behind her shoulder.

"Because," Father snaps. "You cannot handle yourself. The only reason you come back with the proper amount is because you act as a frickin' prostitute."

Her jade wells swell with un-shed tears. "But-"

"Mikan always comes home with at least 50 bucks extra," Persona walks around her but stops when their shoulders are touching. "Maybe if you taught the damn virgin how to live, she'd be even more valuable."

With that, he shoves his shoulder into hers, resulting in her falling, and stumbles out of my threshold.

Following routine, I walk over to the muddle of a girl on the floor and offer my hand. As usual, she denies it like my hand could infect her.

Instead, Sumire stands on her own and glares daggers at me. "This is all your fault, bitch."

"Permy, how many-"

Her hand makes a futile attempt to scratch my face. "Do not call me that!"

I shrug, "It suites you." Plopping down on my bed, I pat the area next to me. Permy just puts her nose in the air like a spoiled puppy. "Are you going to help me?"

Her evil smirk makes an appearance on her porcelain face as she slowly nods. "Look like a total whore. They can never resist it when your boobs are spilling and your butt is hanging."

I groan. "Permy, I'm not a slut like yo-"

"Just do it moron," She hisses.

I already knew that getting the buyers horny would make them buy more, but I hated dressing like a skank.

"And you better do it, or else there will be hell to pay," Sumire's tone is one of promise.

"Persona won't allow that," I mumble under my breath.

Her cat-like ears perk up and she suddenly rounds on me. Before I can register that she has amazing hearing, Permy's got a firm grip on my collar.

"You listen here bitch. Daddy only uses you because he wishes you dead! If he were to send me out on those dangerous missions, he'd be pacing the family room worrying his fat ass off about whether or not I am okay."

Her grip suddenly tightens and our noses touch as she leans forwards. "But when you're gone, we are praying by our beds that some accident will happen so that you'll be out of our lives for good. Then, we could move on and become a happy family. A normal family! But no, you have to fuck everything up! You're such a self-centered whore!"

With that, she shoves me to the ground and goes out the way she came in.

Sighing, I stand and start to prepare myself for the new task. I know every weakness and strength of every druggy in a twenty-mile radius of here. One common weakness that never fails: Looking like a horny prostitute. Sad to say that Permy was right when she said I could rake in more dough if I skanked up.

I throw on my skimpiest clothes and strut to the mirror. My auburn hair falls in soft waves down to the middle of my back. I'm wearing a pink tube-top that cuts off above my navel with a denim mini-skirt. Sadly, I was wearing a thong underneath - the small piece of fabric because if the men were horny, they'd buy more. All I had to do was bend down, show off my butt, snap up, and they'd be shoving a twenty down my push-up bra.

Fish net stockings crawl up my endless, tan legs. For shoes, I chose a pair of black, strappy, 5-inch heels; they make me go from 5' 4'' to 5' 9''. Lastly, I coat myself with thick, black eyeliner, foundation, mascara, lip gloss, and perfume.

I gracefully sashay down the hall, practicing how to move my ass to make it look huge and enticing.

Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see Persona lounging on the clean, white sofa. "Persona."

He looks up at me and squints, trying to decipher which me was the real one probably. "What?"

I sigh and cock my hip out to one side, placing my manicured hand on top of it. "When and where is the deal and with who?"

His hand runs through his greasy mop while he contemplates my question. "I think…" In my Father's state, he wouldn't know his own name.

I roll my eyes and abide for his 'hallelujah' moment. Snapping his fingers, he says, "22 Lincoln Drive at 2 pm. The third alley on the right. Supposed to be with the horny fellas and the code is, 'fine day, ain't it'. They should reply with, 'the suns hidden behind the clouds'. Your reply has to be, 'the sun doesn't shine in hell. It's a fine day, ain't it?'"

I nod my head while memorizing every detail of the routine. "Thanks."

As I turn to leave, he calls out, "Be careful, and bring Sumire. Maybe the bastard can learn a thing or two."

Shuddering, I call up the stairs, "Permy, you're coming with." I can hear the clicking of her heels rapidly make their way down the hall. "But you're only observing from the shadows."

Her once eager steps become slow and solemn. Shaking my head, I open the door and strut towards the drive.

Persona and I share the sleek, black convertible. I put the keys in the ignition and impatiently wait for the drama queen. Eventually, she makes an appearance on the steps and starts to make her way to the car.

As she takes her damn time, I observe my sister. We have no semblance. I have auburn curls; she has an emerald sullied, straight mane. She obtained jade wells while I worked my hazel orbs. Sumire is tall, curvy, and pale; I am short, not as curvy, and tan. There is one thing we do share though; we are both stubborn as hell.

Once she finally pop-squats into the passenger seat, I back out of our colonial mansion and speed off.

The wind blows through my hair as I zoom down the quite roads. It was the middle of the day on a Tuesday. Most are either in school or at work. I bet Serina's worrying her whiskers off about me by now. She'll call later and I'll explain my dilemma and all will be well again.

The whole car ride is tense. I can tell that Permy wants to kill me but then that would result in the car swerving and killing her as well.

I park my car on the street across from Lincoln Drive and make sure to lock it. In the rear-view mirror, I double-check everything. Makeup? Check. Hair? Check. Drugs in thong? Check. Push-up bra working? Check.

After checking to make sure no cars are passing by, I strut across the street with Sumire tailing behind me. Lincoln Drive is your average big-city neighborhood. There are apartments left and right and a small park nestled between two buildings on the left. Teenage boys are skating in the deserted street while girls fawn over them.

As the third alley on the right comes into view, I make sure no one suspicious is watching. Besides the teens and Sumire, I'm alone.

Stealthily, I slip into the dumpy alley and hide in the shadows. I check my watch to find it to be exactly 1.50.

Rule number one about dealing drugs: Show up early and hide in the shadows in case of a scam.

After sitting idle for ten minutes, five guys probably in their early twenties waltz coolly into the alley.

I turn to my sister. "Don't move, don't speak, and don't do anything rash and stupid."

The men stop by us and circle up.

"Where the hell is he?" One of the scrawny ones with a goatee asks.

"I don't know. He's always early. Persona should-"

I reveal myself to the five druggies. "Never speak a dealers name out in public, morons."

They all scan my body hungrily. "Like what you see?" I ask in a flirty manner.

The boys smirk and start to circle me. On the inside, I'm gagging with how slutty I'm acting. But on the outside, I maintain my suggestive smile and cool attitude.

"Fine day, ain't it?"

Each guy sends the others wary glances and they all halt their actions of surrounding me. "The suns hidden behind the clouds," says goatee guy.

I smirk. "The sun doesn't shine in hell. It's a fine day, ain't it?"

Greedily, they nod and give me expectant looks. "You here for-?

"Yes," I interrupt the idiot before he can utter the words. "God, you cannot be this loose. Cautious and sneaky, or else we'll stop supplying."

"We'll change!" A bulk man pleads. His face his pale and under his eyes lay black bags. The side effects of drugs.

"Yeah, just hand over the 'gold'."

I hold my hand out and give them expectant looks. Reluctantly, each fork over the said-amount. I count and glare pointedly at the group. "We are missing fifty dollars here boys." Each look at the other, silently asking if they were the one to pay less.

I was lying, they paid enough; but my manipulating skills could get me an extra 50.

Purposefully, I drop one of the hundred-dollar bills and let out a suggestive, "Oops." I bend down and slowly catch it between my fingers. When I stand up right again, they're all gazing at my chest.

The goatee guy hands over another hundred with a suggestive wink. I ignore him and snatch the bill. Keeping my eyes on the boys, I put my hand down my skirt and pull out the white powder filled baggies.

I cannot tell whether their ogling at my magic trick or the drugs.

Slowly, I push the bags forward; but as they go to get them, I sharply pull them back. "I want some juice boys. Spill."

They all look at one another, begging each other to have some gossip. I'm still a teenager, I can't live without gossip. Sure Serina is constantly gossiping, but she blabs about people and subjects I don't know or understand. These boys knew what I favored.

Finally, a short and stout guy that's bald steps forward. "You Persona's daughter right?"

I nod my head warily, completely forgetting that he just spoke my father's name out loud again.

"We was gambling last night. He was drunk as fuck," Short and Stout chuckles at the humorous memory. "He let something slip," His eyes turn downcast and he starts to fidget, unsure of whether or not to reveal the secret.

"Go on," I purr.

A grin spreads across his grimy face. "I asked: Persona, how's the auburn-haired chick doin'? He gives me a confused look, so I clarified: Ain't she your daughter? Then he starts to laugh like its some funny joke. Wanna guess what he said?"

Any secret of Persona's is worth dying for. So, I pretend to lean in eagerly, though I can't stand another minute of his disgusting roving eyes on my body.

As expected, he bends down till his lips are barely inches from my ear.

His raspy breathe rolls down my spine, making me shiver in distaste. But none of that registers, because his words had sent me from Earth to Hell.

Natsume

The suitcase resounds through the otherwise silent room. Even though it is 2 pm, Kuoniji's office is pitch-black. Even so, I can feel the other presences: Luna, Tsubasa and Axel.

My 'father' takes a quick peek within the metal container before shutting it and passing the somewhat heavy object to Luna, who is standing in the shadows on his left.

"Good work, Boy." A sinister smile spreads across his fugly face. "Of course, I'd expect nothing less of someone I've personally trained."

It's true, Kuonji had trained me to assassinate living things and destroy dreams and hopes, all the while showing nothing but a blank expression. He's taught me the secrets of being the best: Never let your guard down, never show emotions, never make true friends, always know everything about the subject, and be as silent as a cat.

That's how I got my code name, the Black Cat, because I am as stealth and nimble as the purring beauty. My crimson red eyes and raven-feathered hair also gave me the appearance of the spooky feline. Plus if we cross paths, you're bound to get a shit load of misfortune.

I clench my fists tighter behind my back in response to his grimace. I make sure to keep my emotions in check and to show nothing of my thoughts. An eerie silence ensues his revolting comment. I stand, abiding for him to dismiss me. Minutes pass by and I start to feel more and more restless. Our usual routine is me assassinating the target, bringing what Kuonji wants, presenting the object, and being dismissed immediately.

Something wasn't right.

Finally, Luna harshly pulls the curtains open, revealing my two demons. Kuonji's sitting on his throne in a brown suit. His caramel, cold slits narrowing from the sudden change of lighting. As he shakes his tiny head, his chocolate, shaggy hair sways.

"Dammit, Luna," He grumbles in an irate manner.

Luna chuckles while draping her arms around his neck from behind. Her beryl orbs flicker in amusement as she muses, "Sorry, I'm just so sick of no one acknowledging my beauty."

A snort escapes me before I can hold it back. She glares pointedly at me before flipping her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. She stands to her actual eight, 5' 6'', and brushes the wrinkles on her skirt out. Eyes lock on her target - me - as she starts shaking her ass in a form of walking. Once we are inches apart, Luna halts and cups the side of my face.

The witch has a threatening and powerful aura about her. Even though she was almost 6'' shorter than me, I felt somewhat intimated and weak. It doesn't help that I know of her favored ways of torture and reprimandings.

I lowly growl to signal my distaste.

Her scoff makes me want to slit her scrawny throat. "Why do you always insist on making animal noises Natsume, huh?"

"Tch," is my reply as I turn to look away from her probing pools.

She grabs my jaw and snaps my head back to her direction, forcing me to stare at her. "Do not disrespect your boss, Natsume. You could get yourself fired."

Roughly, I slap her hand away from my tanned face. It's as though she has venom leaking from her fingertips when she touches me.

"Ever think that that's what I want?" I challenge.

The small mole above her lip on the left twitches earning a smirk from me. But it quickly vanishes when she leans closer until her red-covered lips meet my ear. "Ever think of the consequences?"

Kuonji having enough of our little banter, interrupted, "Luna, stop this. Natsume, Tsubasa, Axel, you are dismissed."

Gladly, I leave the 'hell room' as we call it.

"You almost got your fucken head bitten off, dude," chuckles Axel. My glare silences him.

A hand clamps onto my shoulder and steers me towards my room. "Doesn't matter, what's imperative is that I beat your ass in another round of air hockey!" Tsubasa challenges.

I shake his hand off of my shoulder and send him a hateful look. He dismisses it as though it is only a fly; which pesters me even more. "No."

Tsubasa laughs and runs to the table, claiming a paddle.

"I knew you'd say that."

I start to walk towards the couch to stare at the flat screen. "Axel, poor Natsume's finally scared of something."

Instantly, I change directions and trudge over to the table. "I'm afraid of nothing."

The game begins. Tsubasa's breaking a sweat within the first minute and Axel's following the puck as it bounces back and forth. A small smile forms on my face; the guy looks retarded with his clementine eyes darting back and forth and his tongue sticking out slightly from concentrating so hard. Axel's blonde hair is pulled into a low pony since the lad refuses to have his hair shorter than the middle of his shoulder blades.

Meanwhile, Tsubasa is attempting to continue playing while wiping his navy, shaggy hair out of his azure eyes. His start tattoo that is located underneath his left eye his scrunching up and down, looking as though it's dancing. I notice all of this while terminating Tsubasa. It's an assassin's job to notice every detail about every single object.

That's why I'm the best in the organization.

Kuonji's standing behind me, supervising my cooking to make sure I don't try anything funny.

"When will it be ready?" He grunts.

I shrug.

In response to my rude reply, he smacks me across the top of my head. "Well estimate asshole!"

Sighing, I answer, "Five minutes."

He nods before turning and walking towards his vibrating cell. "I'll be back in a second. Don't try anything."

As he leaves, I take out the small bottle of transparent liquid and pour it on top of nine out of the ten dumplings sitting atop of his plate. I make sure to memorize which dumpling isn't infected with the sleep-inducing chemical so that when he asks me to test it, I'll chose the right one.

By the time Kuonji arrives, I've set up our dinner on the small table.

As usual, he says, "Eat this dumpling." Shit, he chose one of the infected ones.

I go to reach for the dumpling he is pointing to but 'accidentally' bumps into the glass of water close to his lap. As I lunge to 'try' to catch the glass, I slightly turn his plate so that the dumpling that isn't infected is in the area where he pointed to.

Kuonji abruptly stands, causing the chair to let out an ear-piercing screech. "You fucking moron! You don't mess up on jumping from a 10 story building without breaking anything but you fucken mess up on reaching for a fucking dumpling!" He throws a punch to my face which I begrudgingly allow. "Bastard, clean this up!"

Quickly, I grab a dish towel off of the counter and wipe up the wet area. I stand and am about to dispose of the soaking item, but Kuonjis slap across my face halts me.

"Are you retarded? Bitch, clean up the whole fucken mess!" He screeches while waving his hands down to where the water is staining his khakis. My eyes travel down to the wet area. Damn, it's on his dick.

"You sure you don't want Luna to do that?" I ask haughtily.

For a moment, he's furious, but then, his sharp features take on a contemplating appearance. The frickin moron was actually thinking about saving his soaked jeans for the prostitute? After a full minute of finding the positives and the negatives of my idea, he sits again and says for me to do the same.

Before he demands me of it, I reach across the table and gulp the dumpling down. He seems satisfied and begins to choke down his meal.

I hide my grin and pleased crimson wells in the shadows of my raven bangs. No longer would I have to tolerate his brutal beatings when I was on a mission for too long. I won't have to deal with his outrageous mood-swings, keeping me on my toes for when he could strike next. No more checking my food to make sure he didn't slip anything in it for a test. Maybe, I could live a normal life; not get ambushed while grocery shopping or watch a comrade whisper his last word, "Run."

I shove a dumpling down my throat, not even registering the taste. All that matters now is that I was finally going to escape.

Ruka

The sun is close to setting now. The sky is colored different hues of red, purple, pink, and blue. It's a magnificent sight to see, with the ocean appearing as infinite and the waves crashing on the soft, bash sand. Seagulls screech in the air, but they only seem to add to the charm of the terrain.

I should've been enjoying this scenery. But I am alone, and I could never have fun when she is not by my side. My heart still feels the pain and my mind still replays every cherish-able memory of ours. After hearing the news, I vowed to find out what sort of cruel bastard would do something like that to someone like her.

That's why I'm here, watching the sun set on this serene beach. I was here to finally fulfill my promise. Tonight was the night. Tonight, I would find out who the murderer was.

"Stunning, isn't it." came a gruff voice from behind me.

I turn to see Detective. "Yeah. Just like her."

The older man sighs and sits beside me on the warm mineral. He props his arms up on his knees and stares ahead for a couple of minutes, admiring the scene. I'm dying to know if he found out any clue at all, but Detective likes to take his time.

Eventually, he spoke. "Ruka..."

In the reflection of his eyes, I saw myself. I witness how pitiful I look; my cobalt orbs praying with hope and my blonde locks swaying slightly with the gusts. My pale complexion has gone from a stunning pale, to a ghostly white ever since she was gone.

"Please Detective, just spit it out," I plead.

He turns from my penetrating gaze to look out at the ocean. "I couldn't find a single trace of anything, Ruka."

I curse and slam my clenched fist into the sand. He continues, "There were no finger prints on the knife except for her own. There was no other evidence besides the knife and since she died in an alley, there are no tapes recording the murder. I'm sorry."

Reluctantly, tears slide down my cheeks. How damn hard was it to find a murderer? Apparently extremely hard since I've hired twenty morons and none have prevailed.

"You know why I make you call me Detective and not give you my real name?" Asks the said man.

I shake my head but don't dare look his way. If I looked into his soft, lime green eyes, I'd fall for the trap. He'd wrap me around his pinky with his consoling words and I'll be okay. I'll forget all about her and move on. But I never want that. I want her to stay with me; in my heart and in my mind.

Detective sighs, "It's because I made the mistake of giving a client my name. When I came to the conclusion that there was no murderer, that his brother had committed suicide, he sought out revenge. Revenge for concluding on something so 'ridiculous' as he said and revenge for telling him of something so horrid."

I snap my head to him, ignoring his comforting eyes. "Are you saying that she-"

"No. I'm simply telling you my story," I give him a weary look. She would never do such a thing. I gave her everything and we were happy.

"He ended up dead. Tried to push me off of a precipice but missed and fell off. Now, I keep my name hidden, in case of some incident having some semblance to that happens again."

Perplexed, I ask, "Why are you telling me this?"

Detective shrugs and faces the ocean yet again. "Because, people sometimes go crazy from knowing and other go crazy from not knowing." His hand picks up a small pile of sand. Detective stands and lets the sand fly with the wind. "Most of the time, it's best to not know."

With that, my last hope trudges away.

I was left sitting in the dunes, contemplating his words. Best to not know? How could I move on when my fiancee was murdered and I don't even know by whom? The question nags me day and night; I can only imagine the feeling when I give up on my vow.

But... Would Kana be pleased with how I am spending my money and life now? No. She's probably shaking her head down on me from Heaven, wondering why I'm not living my life, but dwelling on the past.

Maybe... I should give up? It would make a lot of my loved ones content. My mother would stop constantly calling me to beg me to get a life, my father might be less embarrassed of his obsessed child, and my cronies would have a load off of their shoulders. Plus Kana, she'd probably be overwhelmed with joy to watch me live an exciting and successful life.

"I'm going to give up the search Kana. I'll live a daring and auspicious life so that you can smile and laugh in Heaven. Please forgive me for breaking my promise. I'm only doing this for you."

After watching the sun completely vanish, I stand and dust off the stand from my shorts.

Tomorrow, I'm booking a plane to Tokyo. I'm going to change my life for the better.

Hotaru

I am not a dumbass like most human beings. Ever since I've left my secluded, modern condo, someone has been tailing me. Now who might it be?

So there are two options:

1) An insane moron who wants to die mentally and physically

Or

2) Some skilled fighter who wishes for vengeance because of something I've done

Hopefully it was the former, since that way I could end this encounter quickly. But as safety precautions, I should head to one of my booby-trap areas in town.

After weaving through a highly populated section, I reach my destination. It's a quiet, serene park with trees spotting the green lawn. A fountain sits approximately 50 yards from me and the target. A finger-print scanner on the upcoming tree should catalyze all the traps. They have been wired to recognize me and not trigger anything, but allow me access.

I am now 25 yards from the fountain and none of the traps have gone off. Either this moron is so stupid that I lost him in the crowd, or he's intelligent enough to stay far behind to not be noticed.

To bad for the stalker, Hotaru Imai notices everything.

That's how I know that this person is extremely intelligent and skilled, but not for the said reasons. It is staying in the trees, jumping from limb to limb to avoid my traps.

A small smirk graces my lips as I sit atop the gray granite of the fountain. Peeking over the ledge, I examine the reflection. An 18-year-old girl stares back at me with her violet, hard eyes. I can see how pale her skin is even from the wavering reflection. Her lavender locks are chopped into a pixie-style, giving her a more serious and deadly aura.

But I wasn't looking at my reflection to admire myself; I was abiding for the stalker to show its position in the trees. I reach down and lightly touch my fingertip to the cool, smooth water. Small rings explode from my tip and go rippling across the mini-pond.

From the outside, it appears that I am lost in a daze. That is just how I want it. The stalker, thinking my guard is down, shifts in the tree behind me. I can now see that the person is wearing black yoga pants and a fitted green t-shirt. They came prepared, but not prepared enough.

I send my finger, still touching the water, flying to where I see the image in the reflection. I tap the target, now known as a female, twice on the water's surface. On the stone underneath the water, I see my bow and arrow arise from its hidden compartment.

The machine draws itself back until the string is taut. Then, an arrow, with the tip as a pig head, flies and nails my pursuer smack in the chest. She falls from the tree, landing perfectly on her feet. Too bad for her, she's landed on my land mine illusion section.

The woman starts screeching while running from imaginary explosions as blood gushed from her wound Her hair is velvet and it reaches mid-chest when straightened like now. The lady's eyes have a semblance of black with hints of azure specks. Judging by the way that she's acting from my trap, she is not a skilled assassin or anything relating to the murderer.

All this woman is, is a lucky bastard that thought she outsmarted me.

After a couple of minutes of watching her dance in amusement, I halt the fake bombs and trap her in a net. She now lies on the ground, pinned by the flexible steel blanket.

Holding my cannon in a threatening manner, I ask without any emotion, "Who are you and why were you following me?"

The beauty scoffs and stops struggling momentarily, "As if I'll-"

I did not allow her the pleasure to finish. Instead, I click the button located next to the net with my foot. Stalker Girl makes a very unattractive sound as an electric current washed through her.

After a considerable amount of time, I lift my foot and repeated my question.

Her black orbs glare at me and I cannot help but marvel at how her azure specks seem to dance with her emotion. "I'm just here to deliver a message."

"From who?" I question leaving my face blank.

The woman bares her teeth at me, like an animal hissing. "I refuse to-" Threatening to step on the button that results in electrocuting her again cuts her off. "Not again, please."

I glare icily at her. "Answer the damn question. I hate wasting useful time." My growl seems to shake her.

Clearly not enough. "No. I'm here to deliver a message. You can either kill me and never be the recipient of it or you can listen and release me."

Instead of replying, I lower my cannon and stare expectantly at her.

"Release me first," is her answer. Wrong answer.

I step on the button and watch as she clutches her chest and seethes in pain. Eventually, she stops gurgling and just shakes in spasmodic movements.

Her last words are, "We are coming for you."

Brisken

4th co-authored story. Do support.