Chapter Eleven: In Which Her First Hunt is Done

"Cat, today's going to be one of the most important days of my life."

Dahlia was all anger, ambition, and confidence. She didn't fear anything, other than failure. If anything was going to get in her way, it would either be herself or death. She was very thirsty for vengeance, and Crane's tempting offer had appealed to her in so many ways. 'A chance to turn the tables on her tormentors' . . . Splendid. Simply splendid. That sold it. Besides, she was wise - If she had declined, he probably would have poisoned her, too, to silence her. No fear of that however. Dahlia accepted quite willingly.

Pacing about her small room in only her black underwear, she spoke to her feline friend as she picked out the day's clothes, "Professor Crane gave me a bottle of his special formula last night too, Cat. He said it was permanent like the gas he used on Natalie at the hospital. She went so crazy that they sent her to Arkham, a place for the criminally insane. Arkham! Can you imagine?" Finding a suitable ankle-length rippled skirt that she had never worn before, Dahlia began to slip it on. "She must have been completely out of her mind for that to happen. This isn't a poison - It's like justice in a bottle. It serves her right." Quickly flipping through her closet, she also found a clean long-sleeved and unhemmed shirt. She hid it with an oversized black hooded sweater.

"It's completely just, right, Cat?" The black cat just yawned and stretched out across Dahlia's pillow on her side, lightly clawing at the bed frame. Dahlia nodded. "Right. An eye for an eye. And after getting beat up and tripped and getting my things stolen for years, I think I deserve to dish out some fear too." To finish up her preparations for school, the goth headed to her vanity mirror and spread on some lip gloss and light eye shadow. It was one of her rare times wearing makeup, but she wanted to start looking better for Crane. Even her scare the previous night didn't break her attraction to him. She smiled at her reflection, and batted her eyelashes, practicing her charisma. Then turning back to Cat, she nodded once again before hiding the spray bottle of toxin under her skirt and in her thigh-length fishnet stocking.

"I deserve some peace once in a while. And I'm going to get it."

There was one other thing that Dahlia grabbed before heading off, and that was one of her favorite possessions from her childhood that her grandmother had given her. It was a white porcelain mask, with black ribbons hanging from each side. It had only one large and narrow eye hole, the other shut eye painted on and decorated with black gems, and a long and narrow, toothless grin. Both high and elegant cheek bones were red with rouge.

She hid it in her other fishnet stocking.

"So how is he?" Caitlin side stepped from her group of friends to stand in front of Dahlia. The only thing that kept Dahlia from plowing through this time was curiosity of what she planned to say next. But all it provided was more anger, as she continued in a sarcastic and cruel tone, "Bet he wasn't energetic enough to keep a slut like you entertained in the sack, huh?"
"Get bent." And so she did plow through . . . only to feel an unpredicted shove from behind, sending her onto her knees and causing her to drop her books. Laughter followed, and Dahlia only sighed furiously to herself as she gathered her things before many people stepped on them.

"I'm taking over now that Natalie's out of the picture, Witchy." Caitlin hovered over Dahlia, planting an uncomfortably firm hand over the girl's black hair. "Talk to me like that again, and I'll finish the job that Natalie started." Dahlia slapped it away and quickly jogged off.

As usual, she was in Crane's classroom early, and took advantage to have some private chit chat with him. Upon entering the door, she saw him reclining at his desk, just like any other day, but noticed that while he was reading papers he held in one hand, his other hand was gently massaging his side. Before he even noticed her there, she stepped forward and said in an openly sympathetic tone, "I'm so sorry about that, Professor Crane. I didn't even think about it when I did it."

Looking up from his notes, Crane at first held a confused look on his face, but then too realized that he had just given away the sore muscle in his abdomen. He glanced down to the hidden bruise, then back up to Dahlia as he smiled, "Oh, no, Miss Rhodes. It wasn't your fault, after all. You certainly do put up quite a decent fight, though." She smiled bashfully, still feeling quite guilty, and he continued. "You seem much better from last night. Are you feeling well today?"
"Mm hm." With shut lips, she replied. Her shoulders and back were still bruised and ached from being pinned to the floor so firmly, but she was sure that that's not what he meant. "I'm fine, Professor."
Placing the papers down, Crane leaned forward and spoke, cautious of their privacy in the unlocked room, "Miss Rhodes, now that we are associates in this endeavor for justice, I do insist that you refer to my by my first name." Smiling, he purred, "Jonathan."
Dahlia replied with a sassy glance, "Only if you do the same for me."

The bell rang, and suddenly the door swung open with students marching in. Dahlia nodded to Crane, ready to continue the more important part of her intended conversation at a more opportune time, as she headed up to her seat.

So Caitlin truly wasn't as rich or high-class as she let on at the university. Peering carefully around the corner of the building, Dahlia watched her leave a fast food restauraunt with a bag of french fries in hand, munching on them as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. This long day of stalking proved quite embarrassing for Caitlin, had she have found out. Her most hated enemy now knew of her basic home life, her extreme vanity, and her lack of implied wealth, among many other things. Though Dahlia did admit, she could put on a pretty good front for the other students, but once out of the gates, she was just an average person.

Finally, finally the shielding night had come down in full bloom. The stars were dull, and the cloudy sky helped conceal the darkness. Perfect. It was time.

Hidden behind a dumpster in an alley, Dahlia stripped off her sweatshirt and took out the tie in her hair, letting it hang straight down and to her shoulder blades. Hiking up her skirt, she took the porcelain mask, then placed it over her face and tied it with the black ribbon, making sure to hide it underneath her hair. She dumped the sweatshirt and ripped off the top layer of her skirt as well, leaving just the thick knee-length slip underneath.

And calmly, she slipped back out onto the generally empty street. Caitlin was still in view, seemingly wandering aimlessly up ahead at the next block. But Dahlia kept her cool - She followed calmly and with patience, ignoring the confused or amused stares of the passer-bys. With every step she grew closer and closer, until finally she found Caitlin quite conveniently parked at a deserted street corner, digging through her purse. Slowly she stalked up behind her, careful of the potentially noisey heels of her boots. "Ugh, where is it . . ." Caitlin said aloud, completely oblivious.

No one was looking, or even in the immediate area. . . . Dahlia took her opportunity. Thrusting her hand forward, she clenched onto Caitlin's bleach blonde hair and was quick in yanking her back, the girl shouting in pain and dropping her bag. The alley behind the corner store would suffice. The white-masked mystery kept pulling and pulling, and once far enough back between the narrow walls, she jerked Caitlin back and up against the fence.

"What the hell . . . !" Caitlin planted both hands on the back of her head, slightly hunched over as she glared up at the stranger. "Who the hell are you?" Dahlia stepped forward and placed a swift kick into her chest, knocking her back onto her hind quarters and knocking the wind out of her. After coughing, Caitlin lifted herself up slowly, now her eyes holding fear. It was the kind of fear Dahlia had always held inside herself, and finally seeing it in the eyes of her enemies was thrilling and exciting, and dangerously joyous.

"Remember me." Was the last thing Dahlia said before she slowly lifted up her skirt to her thigh, taking the bottle of fear toxin from her stocking, and spraying it into Caitlin's blanched face.

Unfortunately, Dahlia didn't realize that it wouldn't have been that easy for her. Now that Caitlin was hallucinating and seeing things no other person was seeing, she was screaming in terror, backing herself up into a corner and refusing to remained silent. It was quite annoying on her ears. The sounds had attracted a male pedestrian who immediately ran into the alley. "What's wrong?" He half asked, half shouted in worry. Dahlia turned around in surprise, feeling her heart begin to beat fast with adrenalin. "Hey, you! What are you doing to that girl!" She couldn't risk getting caught whatsoever. So she rushed forward, and once close enough, leapt into the air and landed another swift kick, this time into this man's neck, knocking him away and knocking him out. As soon as she was back on the ground, she scrambled off and didn't look back.

"Cat . . . Tonight was the best night of my life . . ."

Dahlia was stretched out on her side next to Cat, cradling the porcelain mask in her hands. She held it close to her face and studied its contours, smiling to it, and running her fingers across the smooth texture. "You should have seen her face . . . She was so frightened of me . . . She was screaming as if she were crawling with spiders, or face to face with rabid wolves. Who knows what was flashing in front of her eyes with the toxin's effects . . .

"And the best part is that she won't be kicking me around anymore."