Euphoria

prologue - strangers in the dark

It's a dark and gloomy night, but you walk alone down the silent streets.

There's not a soul in sight, save the crescent moon hanging in the sky, your only companion. Night has fallen and it's getting late, and your friends are all gone, having just realized you've all lost track of time. In your haste to return to the little apartment you call home, you've (quite unwisely, now that you think of it) decided to take a shortcut down one the spookier alleys. You know for certain it'll take you home – you've walked it countless times during the day. But this time is different, and as you walk along, you're starting to seriously regret your decision. You never know about the creatures that thrive in the dark, after all.

You've been warned about them before, by the lucky few who have survived their encounters to tell the tale. Everybody knows to be wary of the supernatural nightlife, knows to lower their voices when they speak around the metaphorical campfire. You know about most of them: the witches, who escaped a fiery death at the stake long ago and now live among mankind, running amok with their magic; the werewolves, who live at the mercy of the wax and wane of the moon, at best a little worse than a man and at worst a little better than a beast; the shifters, who are experts at hiding in society, the apparent lesser of the evils.

Of course, you can't forget about the most dangerous ones of them all: the vampires, soulless undead who lured their victims to their doom with their unnatural beauty, who fed not on ordinary food and water, but preyed on other creatures, preferring to drink the blood of humans who live and breathe as you do. You don't think you've ever encountered any of them before, and you hope that you're lucky enough never to.

But of course, as fate will have it, luck is not your friend.

stomp.

Your eyes widen, and you can't help but suck in a breath. Peeking over your shoulder, you see nothing but the shadows beside you. It's deathly silent out there. Calm down, Y/N, you tell yourself firmly, it was probably just a monster rat. If it attacks you, just whack it with all you've got. You're still spooked, and you walk a little faster, hold your phone a little tighter. The battery is low, but you know that 1% you've got will last you long enough to get to safety. Having a mere semblance of comfort is better than nothing at all.

STOMP.

You whip around, suspicious. You're certain you just heard footsteps. But once again, there's nothing to be seen but the lonely lunar light. The peacefulness of the night should put you at ease, but today it just seems eerie. You rub your eyes with a scowl, careful not to move your contacts. You're probably just hallucinating due to sleep deprivation.

It's too quiet –

A sweaty hand grips onto your bare arm, and you yell at the top of your
arms. You know you're loud enough to be heard by any source of help – the singer's lungs you've trained so hard to achieve aren't for nothing. You try to
shake off the disgusting hand, but your efforts prove fruitless: attached to the hand is a leering middle-aged man, whose breath reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke. "Hey, pretty girl," he sneers as he paws drunkenly at your body. "I'll show you a good time."

Disgusting.

He's not one of them, as you'd originally feared, but he's dangerous all the same, especially when he's drunk (but sober enough to be a pervert) and you have your, uh, assets. In the daylight, men would only dare catcall, whistling ©rudely at your body. You crack your knuckles. Ideally, you'd avoid a fight, or any kind of violence, but at times like this you don't really have much of a choice, do you? It's probably time you practice your kickboxing skills anyway. Your kicking might be rusty, but you can still throw a mean right hook.