It was already night when Nash dragged himself into his apartment. His legs ached from wandering the city all day, his wallet felt emptier than ever, and his mood was one breath away from collapsing. He dropped face-first onto the mattress, stared at the cracked ceiling for a moment, and sighed deeply.
"This is insane, do I really have to fight a whole gang..." he muttered. "But if I keep living like this, I'll die in some ditch anyway. So screw it."
He shut his eyes. His consciousness sank, flowing into that other tether that was not flesh but porcelain. The world shifted, and suddenly he was staring through Hina's pale eyes, the cool air of the outskirts brushing her face. She was still lying hidden in tall grass beneath the trees, exactly where he had left her.
Nash sat Hina's body upright and stretched. "Alright, time to move."
With a single step, Hina launched forward. Her legs moved like pistons, faster than any human should ever run. The forest blurred as she tore across dirt paths and grassy fields. Nash laughed, exhilarated by the speed. "Hell yeah, this is better than any car. This feeling never gets old."
The excitement did not last long. As Nash traveled for a while through the forest, something strange came into view.
A figure lingered among the crooked trunks, tall and draped in ragged black cloth that fluttered though there was no wind. Its face was hidden, yet Nash felt eyes drilling into him, endless and sorrowful. Its mere presence made the trees bend away. The air thickened, pressing on him like water.
"What… what the hell is that thing? That is got to be a supernatural." Nash whispered.
The figure tilted its head. A sound like weeping echoed faintly through the branches. The air grew colder. Hina's porcelain body trembled for the first time since Nash controlled it. His instincts screamed.
Nash clenched Hina's fists. "Creepy bastard... Should I try fighting it? No… maybe… actually, yeah, let's see how where does Hina's indestructible body rank in this world."
He took a cautious step closer. The figure did not move, but its sorrowful aura grew heavier. Then, before Nash could blink, it vanished. No sound, no trace, only silence where it had stood.
Nash turned rapidly in every direction, scanning the shadows. "What? Where the hell did it go?" He dashed through the underbrush, searching. Branches snapped underfoot, but the thing was gone as if it had never existed.
After ten minutes of fruitless hunting, Nash spat on the ground. "Unlucky. First scary ghost looking supernatural I found and want to fight but it chickens out. Damn."
He shook off the shiver lingering in his chest and pressed on. After an hour of running, the trees thinned and giving way to the edges of the outskirts. The glow of distant lights grew brighter. Soon he heard it, music. Loud, thumping music carried on the night air.
Nash crouched low, pushing Hina's body to the tree line. Ahead lay rows of decrepit houses and warehouses, but the streets between them were alive. Music blasted from speakers, people laughed, shouted, and danced in the open roads. Fireworks popped in the sky, mixing sparks with cigarette smoke. The stench of alcohol hung heavy.
Nash blinked. "They're… throwing a party?"
He leapt silently onto the roof of a two-story shack and peered down. Dozens of people filled the street, some human, some clearly not. A man with glowing veins twirled a metal pipe like a baton. A woman's hair burned like fire, yet she laughed and drank without catching flame. Tattoos glowed on arms and necks, rune-marks alive with power.
"This is way worse than I thought," Nash muttered. "A whole damn festival. How the hell am I supposed to sneak around here?"
He crouched, waiting, letting about an hour bleed by. The more he watched, the more doubt gnawed at him. His plan had sounded bold in the morning. Now it looked suicidal. "Maybe I should wait. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Or next week... Or never."
As he debated, headlights flared at the far end of the street. A car screeched into view, tires screaming. The music faltered as people turned. The car braked hard, and a man leaned out the window, shouting.
"They're coming! Black Vultures are coming!"
The effect was instant. The wild street festival shattered into chaos. People screamed and scattered, rushing into houses. Tables overturned, bottles smashed. Some did not flee. A few transformed before Nash's eyes. One man's skin split into chitin plates. Another grew claws like blades. A woman with pale skin dissolved into mist, her laughter replaced with a ghostly wail.
The ground trembled. Nash's pulse jumped. "Holy crap. This is like a damn monster zoo."
On a nearby rooftop, a figure crawled into view. A wiry man with sharp eyes and a rifle strapped across his back. He crouched like a predator, scanning the street below. Then his gaze locked with Hina's.
For one tense heartbeat they stared at each other.
The man grinned and raised a hand. He gave Nash a casual wave, as if greeting an old friend. Then he tapped his rifle, signaling. Get ready.
"What?" Nash muttered, dumbfounded. "Does he… does he think I'm one of them?"
Before Nash could react, engines roared in the distance. Headlights appeared, not one car but many. Black SUVs rolled to a stop at the far streets, doors slamming open in unison. Men and women poured out, some carrying guns, others glowing faintly with rune power, others in their supernatural forms.
They fanned out, not charging recklessly but spreading with precision, boxing the neighborhood in. A net tightening around prey.
From his rooftop perch, Nash saw it all. The party, the panic, the rival gang advancing. And in the middle of it, he sat in the body of a porcelain doll mistaken for an ally.
He clenched Hina's fists, heart pounding. "Well… I wanted chaos. Guess I got it."
The night was about to explode.