Trigger Warning:

- assault

The lunar eclipse rises high in the night sky, tinging everything a shade of crimson.

I bask in its wicked glow.

Then Madam Ahearn brings me from my radiant reverie into disappointing reality.

We are standing outside her ex-husband's home, an hour drive from her home. This home is not impressive. But what do I care? My job is to get the disgrace of a man to confess and free the three girls held captive. Play savior. I do not have a problem with that. What I do have a problem with is the fact that I'm wearing palazzo trousers with a full-sleeve Disney shirt and sneakers.

"From what angle, does this outfit appear frightening?" I gesture vivaciously at the ensemble. "I look less like a murderess and more like a clown. I hate looking like a clown."

"Most children find clowns terrifying," she says as a matter of fact.

"Well, that doesn't work in our favor if your children find me terrifying."

"But don't you want to terrify my ex? Besides, his childhood fear of clowns persists to this day. Now he will be tortured by a clown killer. How fitting."

I don't have a retort for that, so petulantly I persist. "This outfit is insulting. I want to change."

"Too late for that. Your clothes are in the laundry," she scolds. "We had a deal, and I will not let it be for naught. Now go. I have to return to the task force and play dead, too. Otherwise, my colleagues will be suspicious when they wake up and find my mysteriously gone."

"Making a fool of myself in front of your daughters," I mutter. Then I raise my voice. "When I return, I demand a feast of sweets and milk. No comments about diabetes, weight gain, or anything like that. And the sweets must be nut-free."

"My home is not a buffet, Selene."

"Lucifer Morningstar is suppressing her pride to meet her end of the deal. She is trying to be compassionate while temporarily sacrificing her aesthetic. At the very least, she can get a reward of her choosing," I complain.

"Just like my middle daughter. So argumentative." She stares at me like a mother fed up with her toddler. "You are glory and deprecation - sunlight and shadows - the scuttle of a scorpion and the melody of a nightingale. The breath of the sea and the cannonade of a storm. Happy?"

"Not in the slightest." Although, I remember that line well. It is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books. That tempers my indignated ego a little. "Can I at least have my cane? A little semblance to my bloodthirsty persona?"

"No."

Never mind. My ego flares again. "Who'd deny a poor cripple her cane?"

"If the cripple is you, then any woman with sense."

"I need the cane to walk with ease."

"Let's be honest: you won't use it much for walking. Besides, you have your knives to compensate."

Again, I don't have anything to counter that. So, I simply glare and usher her to give me the earpiece and choker. On the front of the choker is a secret camera, designed to record voice and visuals of her former husband's imminent confession and so that Madam Ahearn can watch everything live, and the earpiece allows me to hear Madam Ahearn's instructions. I trespass into the home. The electricity buzzing from the outdoor cameras, motion sensors, and sound recorders tingle, and I turn myself invisible. All devices are stable, fixed in one position. But one camera is situated above the front door, making it impossible to enter without being caught. I walk in a circle around the house stealthily, searching for other possible entrances. Suddenly, I spot a window partially open. I levitate myself to it. Well, this won't be difficult to break into. Pulling the window farther open and removing the mesh net, I climb inside. And bless my luck, it is the ex-husband's bedroom.

The room reeks of alcohol, and the source is from the tens of glass bottles scattered on the floor. At the very least, a drunk man will be very off his guard. Said man lies on the mattress, snoring without a care in the world. A girl lies next to him, a few years younger than me, with hair and skin much like her mother's. This must be the middle daughter: Thalia. I thought she was asleep, but her eyes fly open when the floorboards creak with my first step. I clap a hand over her mouth before she can scream, and I bring a finger to my lips. I usher her to get up and join me by the window. After fumbling through the ridiculous trouser pockets, I unfold a letter and show it to her. Instantly, she pulls the letters from my hands, studying every word like a new specimen has been discovered. I already know what the letter reads. I was there when Madam Ahearn wrote it.

My dearest lights of my life,

I found a way to get all of you out of that hellhole. We can leave your father forever, and live together once more. The girl who brought this letter to you is my accomplice. She will help you escape whilst collecting the truth from your father. Do as she says without any complaints, and do not underestimate her. She is the infamous Bone Crusher Killer, the case I am in charge of. I know I have always said to keep your dignity and never stray from morality. But, my angels, I was desperate. I had to sacrifice everything I believed in to have you back. The end justifies the means, that is the principle I am operating on.

Love you forever,

Your mother

Thalia stares at me with a mix of trepidation and respect. "Show this letter to your sisters. Gather all your things and meet me in the drawing room," I order her. "Be as quiet as possible." She nods vigorously and creeps toward the bedroom door, gaze alternating between me and her dozing father. The moment she shuts the door behind her, I turn toward my newest victim. According to Madam Ahearn, he keeps a safe, containing all the evidence of his misdeeds. If it were simple enough to hijack the safe with a burst of electricity, like Kaminari-san's quirk, I would have done so already. However, there are biometrics, passcodes, and a multi-lock combination involved. Electricity will not solve the combination problem, and it may trigger safety mechanisms. Searing through metal with fire risks burning the evidence and the house. Shredding the metal into scraps involves using Midoriya-san's quirk, which is too big of a risk for my frail body. Pounding the metal until a hole is created using Kirishima-san's quirk or Tetsutetsu-san's quirk generates too much noise, and the neighbors will be alerted. Corroding and cutting the metal with precise points of water will get the job done - even using Shigaraki's decay ability will - but that will reveal my quirk. The last thing I need is to give another lead to the task force responsible for capturing me. Better that the owner of the safe open it himself.

The question is: how? I could threaten him to open it, with a dagger at this throat. But he is a legal officer, so he must be well-trained in physical combat. That dagger will be positioned at my throat in an instant. Perhaps, I can disarm him first. He is intoxicated, so I suppose I can break a few fingers and toes. But he needs those fingers to open the bloody safe, and I don't have my cane to break them in the first place!

Frowning, I consider my last option: entering his dreams and, subsequently, his memories. So utterly time-consuming and the riskiest of options, because if happens to be a lucid dreamer, he might just remember my face. That is more damning than having an indication of my abilities. With the officers I had put to sleep hours ago, the process was easier because I was already invisible, so they would have no recollection of a face. And Midnight-sensei's quirk typically does not permit lucid dreaming. Should I implement the same method on him?

That would require me to vanish, wake him up for a moment, then sedate him with sleep pheromones, and finally project my astral self into his subconscious. So wonderfully simple, I sigh. I climb onto the bed and roll him over, so he lies on his back. Madam Ahearn's voice pierces my ears: "Selene, what in tarnation are you doing? Get away."

"Getting your revenge," I whisper furiously. Then, I shake his shoulders fervently. Finally, just as my hands tire from the motion, his eyes flutter. That much sobriety will do. Like an avalanche, I permeate the room with pink gas and direct it toward his mouth and nose. His eyes shut again and the snoring returns. His dreams are the easiest ones I have ever infiltrated. But they are also the most useless ones I have encountered.

Carnal fantasies, wine sampling, packets of full cigarettes … his childhood doggy, a healthy friend group, an ambition to receive a medal of honor. I pause. Control yourself, Selene. Do not let yourself feel any sympathy for this disgrace of a man. Remember what he has done. Compassion has no place on any battlefield … magical or otherwise. Regaining confidence, I resume. After what feels like a lifetime, I catch a glimpse of what resembles a metal box. It's the safe. Within his closet. He opens it and searches for something. I see paper files, photo and video memory cards, and what looks like a sum of cash. Black money, I bet. Hope rises inside me, knowing that what Madam Ahearn told me was true. Perhaps I can read the combination, too. But that hope is immediately replaced with disappointment as the passwords and lock combination warp into swirls and curves, much like a dream. Soon I am surrounded by darkness and thrown out of his dreams into reality. His REM cycle must have ended.

Unfortunately, I am at the start again. I need that evidence because by simply recording his confession and handing it to the police, he could claim that everything he said was a lie to save his life. I know of that loophole; that is why when I committed all those murders, I skipped confessions and went straight for undeniable proof. Looking at his disgusting, peaceful self, I sigh in resignation. Looks like I will just have to wake up the scoundrel.

I could slap him repeatedly. It would awaken him whilst be immensely satisfying. After all, Madam Ahearn gave me permission to torture him. I straddle his hips and crack my knuckles, preparing for those gratifying slaps. Madam bursts my eardrums again, again asking me what I am doing. "Doing what I can to get that evidence," I reply. She breathes heavily, preparing for a lengthy scolding.

All of a sudden, our positions our reversed. Now he is on top of me, and I am below him. I lie stunned for a moment. Then it hits me. I was not pulled out of his dreams because he entered deep sleep … it was because he had awoken.

He is awake!

His weight presses into me, and an awful premonition seizes me.

"Mmm, you smell sweet, little angel. Perfect compliment to the odor of alcohol," his sultry voice groans into my neck.

I choke back tears.

The scoundrel is awake, and he has me trapped in his bed.

Citations:

"You are glory and deprecation - sunlight and shadows - the scuttle of a scorpion and the melody of a nightingale. The breath of the sea and the cannonade of a storm. Happy?" - Splintered by A. G. Howard

"Who'd deny a poor cripple his cane?" "If the cripple is you, then any man with sense." - Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

"Compassion has no place on any battlefield ... magical or otherwise." - Unhinged by A. G. Howard