Kiss of Death (Isaac Foster X Fem!Reader)

CHAPTER ONE {Nothing Interesting To Report}

CHAPTER ONE {Nothing Interesting To Report}: START!

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You woke up in a room, your ass and back stiff from sleeping upright on the chair you were on.

All in all, a good start to what you were about to experience, right?

Was I sleeping? you asked yourself.

No. I don't remember falling asleep at all.

That means I fell unconscious by unnatural means.

Since you didn't recognize the strange room you were in, with its large windows revealing the opalescent blue moon hanging in the sky and disconcerting lack of furniture apart from the chair you were on, that meant you'd probably been kidnapped.

Nothing unexpected. All the investigating you'd been doing for your articles was bound to lead to a strange situation like this one. Yup, yup. This is fine, you told yourself, ever the apathetic optimist.

At least I'm not tied up...or anything else... Where am I?

You stood up, patting all over your body. When satisfied, you placed your hands on your hips, and arched your back to get rid of the stiffness.There was no reason to be particularly concerned right now; you had to save your energy for escaping or whatever it was that protagonists in these kinds of situations did. Besides, you had your pepper spray, camcorder, audio-recorder, boot-knife, and other stuff, so all was well.

When you walked through the lone door on the opposite side of the room, the keychains on your hiking backpack and sleeves jingling loudly, all you were greeted with was an empty corridor. There were security cameras dotting the wall, red lights blinking.

If whoever brought you there was going to watch you like a creep, you might as well make it cringy and annoying, right? You had close to zero dignity anyway, and it would also be a good way to test if whoever was watching you could react to your actions. You immaturely blew kisses and posed dramatically at every camera.

There was a chain link door in the middle of the corridor, an electronic lock preventing you from progressing. The red light emitting from the lock not only indicated it wasn't going to open anytime soon, but also provided a small source of light for you.

Scrawled on the wall next to the room at the end of the corridor were the words: 'You must figure it out for yourself. Who-and what- are you? Are you an angel, or are you a sacrifice? Know thyself and the gate will open.'

Dramatic bitch-ass motherfucker, you thought, walking into the room.

"Ooo! This room has furniture!" you exclaimed.

There was a single table in the center of the room with an ancient-looking typewriter placed on it. Not that ancient if the dust on it has recently fallen onto the table, you noticed.

The walls of the room were mirrors, so you took a few seconds to examine yourself. You were still wearing the same dark grey letterman with yellow wings on the sleeves and back, the same blue-and-red shorts, black hiking backpack,, the same boots and socks, the same keychains attached to your sleeves and backpack (pumpkin, serpent, skull, angel-puppy, sword, St. Peter's cross)...