Author's Note: This is just a testing chapter. I may have to rewrite it-- but hopefully not, if I receive flames on this… And F.Y.I. The lyrics are from Britney Spears' new song "Toxic".

Chapter 2:

"Daemetriyah…" Jaevyn coolly began, "Your brother seems to be in town."

*Baby, can't you see/I'm calling/A guy like you/Should wear a warning/It's dangerous/I'm fallin'/

There's no escape/I can't hide/I need a hit/Baby, give me it/You're dangerous/I'm lovin' it*

"Shut up, Jaevyn." I fiercely remarked. And Daemon? I asked my mother, leaving out the "and I" part. Whether or not you two or fighting or arguing about the usage of military combat techniques or any other bellicose issue, you two still stay grounded, herein and forthright. She then coughed, substituting that for silence. All I can say is for the both of you, is when he's dangerous, you're formidable. And when he is toxic, you are potent. So, when mixed together, all that can be described is an eruption- but no, not criminally vulgar, but that of a proven time and time again, human body-and-mind-defying, breathtaking, mysterious, illusive, whimsical, and seductive, exuding enigma personas- that, of a smoldering courtesan lady temptress- in your case, a cadre of military "hot dawgs", and he is the gentleman at hand…

"And don't forget that your father is, too." he then pointed out, sending me back down to earth.

*Too high/Can't come down/It's in the air/And it's all around/Can you feel me now*

"I'm sure they are." I replied, lightly sighing, and toning it down a bit. And I know that I've seen you both in years of illustrious undercover work, and the evasive, yet painstaking process of classroom sit-and-learn *slash* live-and-learn techniques that have more than paid off.

"Daemon will be arriving directly at "Tragic Kingdom", shortly," he seemed to have soothed, "Look for him."

"Don't think I won't." I hurriedly replied, itching to get him out of my sight… In addition, though, you two are worldly and under-worldly-renowned for your more-than gracefully-stunning beauty, mental quick-witted prowess, emotional void, moral cause, and lastly, a keen human intuition-got-hunter gaming instinct in this high-tech digital world-sense-of-regard-on-high. And in the end, it's the good moral judgment and the wistfully silent praised that matters…

*I'm addicted to you/Don't you know that you're toxic/And I love what you do/Don't you know that you're toxic*

And with those words, Jaevyn abruptly left with his crew in obvious unity, leaving myself to converse with my own mother, who surprisingly just arrived. With an "escort". Also, in which Timothé e was about to approach, but decided to back off at the last second upon eyeing my mother's arrival, as well; for he knew that getting into an argument between my mother and I is not exactly the most pleasant of things… But yes, she too has the essence of both Kitana and Vitalinee- rarer even, to have been given a precious onyx teardrop pentacle pendant by Dominique, herself- however, I have one, too-- and to have a careening mystic aura that demands attentiveness when seen by other witches and vampires, alike, of which I sadly do not possess… But I knew then what we were about to discuss- in public, when I felt a cold chill surge through my veins, by an icily given glare from Diomache- Dia, for short, who is my mother.

*Flashback*

"Daemetriyah, what happened to you?" my father asked abruptly, while eyeing myself meticulously, ignoring the apparently rude stares, and hushed remarks from his dinner guests.

"A fight…" I quietly began, much less, equally annoyed.

"Come here."

I did as I was told. When I got no more than 2 feet in front of him, I said nothing as he silently eye-balled the large and noticeably crusty blood wound near the front of my head's crown, or the black-eyed right eye, the broken, bruised, battered, and sliced right cheekbone, cut lip, the extremely-large, yet stitched X slice into my left arm, the scratches on my lower left arm, the numerous still-bloodied slits on my still-aching wrists, my broken right arm in a make-shift cast, or the torn and gaping flesh wounds visible through my equally-torn-and-bloodied tank top, on my lower back. Yes, I knew that I was in very bad shape- only lucky to have been still conscious through so much blood-loss… Lastly, 2 intersecting diagonal gashes on my lower abdomen marked the end of this fierce, bloody battle.

"Did you drive home like this?" my father, Richard- or Rich, as he likes to be called, softly inquired.

"No…" I whispered.

"I did, sir." one of my best buds, Andreu-Fabian commented.

"Well then…" he began in obvious irritation, "I don't suppose either of you have a damned well good excuse as to why you and the rest of the 'squad' would show up ill-mannered, poorly-dressed, and immensely out-of-character in front of elite U.S. commanders during dinner." he hurriedly, yet obviously remarked- for we knew this was coming. But we only stood there in stoic silence, heads lowered, shown as a sign of submissions to one's forthcoming threat, that never came…

"Respect, daughter. Show some respect to your elders… next time." he articulated smoothly and coherently.

However, my vision was now aligned elsewhere…Oh don't worry Jaevyn; you're not the first person to dump me, and you most certainly won't be the last. I found myself thinking about how I edgily nonchalantly told my ex, then walking away without an utter response from him, until it was already seemingly too late.

Daemetriyah, wait! he suddenly then called out, after me. In return, I flipped the bird, but kept on walking without ever turning my back around. It's all over, I found myself remembering my saying that. Or so, they have said…

Shaking my head mentally in disgust, I turned to my left and saw Andreu glaring at Tim, all the while. Like H*ll he did, for I was burning- no wait, heating up inside, for having him see me like I was, under such formal circumstances, in comparison to his prim and proper, tucked and tailored black suit. Heck! If it weren't for an attendant's lack of information misinterpretation, we would have not gone through a wild and f*cking goose-chase, half-way around town, as insisted by her, to eventually lead us to peril in ultimate doom!

*Flash-Forward to Now*

"Daemetriyah…" Dia began, leading me too a far-more secluded booth, away from the other individuals dining, "I have a vision for you… Listen and observe. And no, you cannot go 'partying' tonight with Adia and Isis."

But before I can protest- even feebly in such a populate setting, for I knew she said that because of recent events, and not because of "business", a vivid vision enhanced and heightened my senses and clung to my aura.

"The choice is yours." the black-robed figure solemnly spoke.

Hesitantly, I saw that she took the knife, with a more-than questioning look in her eyes. Then glancing carefully at it, she smirks as the dagger slightly cuts her fingertips on her left hand, giving off a trickle of light-sanguine liquid. She knows this weapon well; it is a swept-hilt dagger, crafted from the finest bronze and high-carbon EN-45 spring steel. It may not have been the deadliest of its kind in hand-to-hand combat- or otherwise, but it still was pretty damn effective, like now, for instance. She expected better from the man, but obviously, this will have to do…

"You know very well of the consequences, my dear," he raptly began, "You can live a lie, or die the truth… There are no other options for you, my dear little one."

"So it is true," she coldly began, "I am the lie living for you so you can hide… father. Well, good-bye now, for in life, I am no longer yours."

Now, without much trepidation, she forcefully plunged the knife straight into her heart, churning it until she bled her very life-source dry, drowning now in her own lungs…

Blinking, I "awaken" from this vision- similar to a vision of a psychic's, only to find questioning looks from Adia, Isis, mom, and her "escort", staring back- or through me, maybe. *Sigh* This is going to be one damn long night… I thought. For I know that with every vision I have, there comes trouble…