Anthony was about to follow someone who insanely had began to flee in front of his eyes, the athletically cut man no older than himself completely lost to horror and grief and pushed to the point of failed reason.

As he was about to, however, Anthony fell back into the embrace of a solidly built torso, arms clamped to his own chest as a foreign hand came up and seized tightly around his mouth, forcing him quiet.

The ground was shaking, and there was light, but it could not find a way beneath the couch he presently hid beneath for shelter. The young man struggled momentarily and tried to turn his head, to identify the one who was restraining him against his will but found for now he could not. He could only feel the abnormally hot surface of his flesh.

The man, whose name he hadn't learned, was running, and he could clearly see the outline of the college student's form as the panic-stricken soul bolted from under the couch frame and into the light, disastrously into the open. He was not clear of the sofa for long though, having chosen to hide below its veritable cover as Anthony had himself.

In only the span of a couple of heartbeats, the tiny African American man was suddenly lost beneath the mass of a tanned female ped, the shape, and form of which Anthony knew all too well. With pretty white decorated toes, facing parallel to the couch edge, the foot annihilated utterly the man beneath its heartless step. The force was like a moon crashing to earth, and upon seeing this casual disregard for human life, the poor spectator wailed in abject horror as his unknown captor kept his hand over the lower half of his face, keeping him muffled despite the grizzly scene before them. 

Mira's foot slammed the carpet floor, sending out an echo of sound like a cannon discharging, the sheer weight of her bare sole enough to crush savagely the insignificant human garbage trying to flee at her feet. The soft, worn carpet offered no semblance of lessening the impact, and the man whose body had essentially detonated beneath her meager, though to the remaining small men, massive movement, was most assuredly not spared any amount of pain. In one smooth, dismissive motion, she quickly slid her foot backwards, as if trying to rub off or grind away the tiny mangled remains of blood, viscera, and indistinguishable bones, the act itself by her intentions being more like an insult than it did carry any realistic, practical purpose. The former man was now a dead mite, beneath the awesome power of something as simple as a step from her amazing body, and though there were few to witness his end, she treated his short sad attempt at survival with utter indignity and contempt because it was the truth of the universe.

“Shhhh...”

A voice whispered behind Anthony, into his ear, the sound now familiar to him as was the absolute strength of the form that had grabbed a hold of his seated body. The soft, just barely audible warning coming from right next to his skull with an unmistakable hint of excitement.

“She has very good hearing. Be silent.”

Anthony strained lightly still, but did as he was told as his chest undulated out of his control, and sweat ran down the side of his head with anxiety.
Mira's foot came back down after its scrape to where it had crushed its latest victim, a faint red mess and smear the only remains of the person who had been there alive moments ago. She planted her standing form back to a relaxed posture as she spoke to someone unseen, likely between her gigantic fingers high above, held up to her face.

“Wanna try messing with Anthony, or me, now? You disgusting little worm?”
Someone, though it was faint, definitely spoke back as the question burst from the titanic woman's lips, anger and clear animosity resounding within the room as result.

The being of black tribal tattoos and god-like tendencies controlled Anthony's body as he slowly started to settle down, his heavy breathing and muscles coming back under his command as his hysteria started to subside.

“Wait until she's done.”

Anthony felt a tremor in his lungs as his eyes softened in fear and regret at what had just been suggested. When next he replied, he hoped not to lose his composure in doing so.

“But, she's going to kill them!” he whispered sharply back, fighting tears in his eyes.

“Yes, she is.” The large man with slightly elongated canine teeth said,

“Would you like to be among them?”

Anthony's eyes were wide but he didn't reply, he knew what he wanted to say, but Mira spoke again before he could, seemingly taking a sniff of the air, then speaking.

“Your scent is revolting,” she began, obvious distaste in her tone, “So eating you is out of the question. And your little friends trying to scurry away by my toes didn't feel good to me at all to squish."

She pauses for a second before continuing, thinking to herself, "Honestly, I don't even care enough to try and enjoy myself at this point. I just want you dead.“

There was another reply, something was frantically said, though only a loud shriek of, “no,” and, ”please,” were the only discernible syllables in the fearful response.

Mira sighed and muttered out a low comment, darkly not one of anger or of vengeance, but of indisputable boredom.

“Your begging is just annoying to me, in fact, one word pretty much sums up your entire existence at this point. You're just...”

There was noise after that, something that wasn't pleasant, and along with it, came the end of any sounds other than Mira's own voice, which she assumed only she could hear.

“...A nuisance.” She breathed out, as she murdered the last of the group she'd kidnapped and brought home with her and Anthony.


#    #    #    #


-Earlier That Day-


Sizzling and popping. That’s what Anthony was greeted with when he first walked into the kitchen after waking up in his still damp clothing from the previous day. Mira was at the stove, skillet handle gripped and wielding a spatula as she jostled the contents of the pan before her. She glanced up for a second, looking over her shoulder and catching a silent glare from Anthony, who, despite being captivated by his roommate’s glorious morning appearance, could not completely stop his emotions from carrying over from the night before.

She turned back and smiled beyond sight as she called out to him, over the slight noise of cooking,

“I can smell you from here,” she says trying to not laugh.

Anthony wasn’t amused, and was still physically, as well as mentally, recovering from leftover shock.

“You know, you made me think I was going to die. I thought you were genuinely going to kill me...” He said folding his arms and leaning against the far wall slightly.

“Oh you’re fine,” she said casually with a dismissive wave of her utensil.
 
“Besides, we learned a lot from that experience, so it made it all worth it, wouldn't you say? You learned not to be rude, and I learned you taste freakin' amaaaaazing.” She says happily, rolling her eyes upwards and almost moaning out the last word as she stands at the counter edge, one leg straight, the other bent.
 
Anthony feels a tingle of embarrassment at Mira's casual admission and stutters as he partially hesitates to ask for more details.

“I...I taste good?” he says, afterwards raising his right hand and scratching his nose, looking to the floor apprehensively. The remark seems to be a compliment, and though its nature may be slightly dark, he still enjoys Mira's cute, albeit atypical courtesy.

The wondrous female, hair a slight mess that only accentuates her attractiveness, turns her head to behold him, saying next,

“I always knew you would...”

A couple of seconds pass as she turns back to the skillet, continuing her efforts at cooking.

Anthony speaks up again, only more questions coming to mind as his last one is answered.

“Does me being, you know, scared or freaked out have anything to do with it?”

“Eh, it depends on the person, and usually its kind of like, essential. But you,” she says smiling to herself and nodding approvingly, her focus on the eggs and meats she's preparing, “you would taste great without being scared.”

Anthony considers this as he moves over to the table, taking a seat after pulling out a wooden chair. He knows this probably isn't something he should be proud of, as essentially his roommate is saying he's at an increased risk of death in a particularly grim fashion because of it, but he can't help but feel a little proud regardless. Mira has just also commented on something the young man can tell she's been desensitized too, a blackened fact of reality that she's apparently eaten enough people to know everyone has a different flavor, a fact he wisely chooses not to dwell on.

“You had me going last night, you know? I’ll give you that." He chews on his lip recalling the crazy day before, feeling a strange sense of arousal at the fresh memory. "But did you have to be so convincing?”

“If I hadn’t you wouldn’t have tasted so sweet…and I wouldn’t have had as much fun. Don’t you want me to have fun?”

 She says, knowing full well her friend is smarting most about her intent to be as genuine as possible to maintain the illusion of his imminent death. Something that as she has explained, makes things all the more intoxicating for her in the end.

Anthony clears his throat and nods for a moment in return,

“Yes, I want you to have fun,” he says conceding his front. It is true the young man adores making Mira happy, and at the present time, he sees no way of avoiding his own trepidation while simultaneously giving her what she wants. It was definitely a rush to be on the receiving end of Mira’s, “affection,” but he knew he was always going to be surprised by her intense nature, no matter what.

“Just, man, you’re really good at role-playing,” he starts to laugh as he shifts uncomfortably in his slightly heavier than usual shirt.

“Not my fault your fantasy happens to be my fantasy.”


#    #    #    #


Anthony took another bite of eggs, the exquisite texture, and pieces of ham, hotdog, and chives mixed in satisfying his early morning hunger and warming his stomach. Mira was across from him, taking smaller, slower bites and staring over at the young man with slightly wide eyes as he scarfed down her modestly prepared breakfast. She tries not to laugh, and fails, as she asks,  

“Were you hungry?” 

She says trying to resist a follow-up smile and failing at that as well. 

“Mmm!” Anthony swallows as he nods his head and smiles back, “Yeah, but it's also just really good! Seriously! You're really good at cooking!”
 
“Its just eggs and toast,” Mira says dangling her fork over her plate trying to stay modest, elbows resting on the wood surface, cheeks flaring with endearment, “Its nothing special.” 

“Maybe not to you, but I never cook, and you put a lot of meat in here, which I love! I’m sort of a meatysaurus.” 

Mira laughs and takes another bite herself, chewing and talking with the far side of her mouth, growing more comfortable with not having to pretend to be lady-like in situations uncharacteristic of her natural behavior.  

“Yeah, me too, I mean, I like vegetables, but I love chicken, beef, and pork especially. Even though a lot of that is pretty bad for you.” 

“Well, you know what they say,” Anthony begins as he takes a drink, finishing his breakfast, “the best things are bad for you.” 

The pair have been up for a couple of hours by this point, and Mira had taken it upon herself to make the pair some food while Anthony sat at the table after a quick shower, a cleaning which Mira agreed he had desperately needed despite her part in the reason for his filthy appearance. Mira had woken up early, and though she had placed Anthony in her room to sleep, she had moved him to the couch as she had been doing thus far in their partnership, to avoid once again him seeing her private domain. She was silently anxious about when he would bring up yesterday’s game and it’s agreed upon prize, though she knew she didn’t really have to honor the circumstances, and could easily defeat any argument her pet human came up with in rebuttal, in more ways than one. 

Anthony stood and gathered his plate and silverware, stepping over to Mira and gesturing for hers as well, the girl appearing also to be done eating. She handed it to him and stood herself, taking her glass over to the fridge as Anthony put the dishes in the sink nearby, heading back to sit at the table after he’d done so.  

The young man sat looking at his phone, sifting through social media posts and funny gifs, he wore his gym clothes from the day before, as his regular clothes were of course, not something appropriate to be in. In a simple, plain grey t-shirt and some shorts, something he enjoyed wearing as much as Mira did, he traced lines and poked buttons as his roommate opened the fridge about to pour some more juice for herself. 

Mira looked over her shoulder, a hint of excitement about how she was about to break the casual morning with her favorite personal trait, that of unpredictability.  

“So how long have you had a foot fetish?” she said as if nothing were odd or out of place. 

Anthony had just begun taking a drink from his cup as he coughed and choked on small bits of light pulp, the surprise, and subject of the unorthodox question Mira had so easily brought up quickly turning his mind upside-down. He dropped his phone down quickly and coughed into his hand, looking over at his smiling roommate as she turned to close the refrigerator door.  

“Who...Who starts a conversation like that?!” he stammered out in caught entirely off guard. 

“What? It’s just a question.” 

“Well, ok, sure, but don’t you think maybe now isn’t the time?”
 
Mira stepped over to the kitchen counter and lifted herself up and onto it, sitting on the cool platform with her ankles crossed and dangling her legs as she took a sip of her cup’s contents before speaking again. 

“What's wrong with now? It's just the two of us. You swear as if it’s a big deal, it’s really not." She says obviously being truthful and hoping to relax his nerve, "You don’t have to be so embarrassed. I mean, you already know what my kink is, it’s pretty obvious. So I think it’s only fair you shared too.”  
“Right but I mean, it’s…you know… it’s just sorta personal. I don’t just tell everyone things like that! And so randomly too!” 

“Well, good thing I’m not everyone.” She said bouncing her eyebrows humorously as she took another drink, savoring the acidic sweetness of her favorite orange juice brand as she kept her eyes on him expectantly. 

“So come on, tell me. I’m sure you’ll like where I can take things from there.” She says with a smile, setting her cup down, her meaning not entirely clear and deliberately vague, leaving her intent up to Anthony's imagination. 

“Oh jeez,” The man says rubbing his forehead apprehensively; thinking about, despite what Mira has reassured him with, how embarrassed he is and how she might also take advantage of this new information. 

He sighs; Mira is right of course and had noticed quickly, especially from what she had said shortly after they had first been in each other’s company, the truth of his most private thoughts. Anthony is comfortable with his prospective crush and her view of him, but he has to push himself to remember, considering when compared to her own tastes, he’s relatively tame.

“Uh, well,” he starts nervously, trying to go slowly due to anxiety, but also hoping to not come off incredibly weird, “It’s only been since like, the beginning of college or after high school, it's not like I’ve always enjoyed stuff like that. It’s only after I dated a couple of girls that I realized I found that appealing.” 

Mira tries to ignore Anthony's casual mentioning of other girls, she has to remind herself that she asked the question, and she tells herself its unreasonable to assume that others may have been involved in his fantasy at some point. She thinks on that, and then asks,

"So do you have pictures and videos? Do you watch footsie porn?” Mira says with a somewhat excited smile. 

“What?! No!” Anthony says turning bright red as his friend laughs from across the room, “I just know that’s what I’m into, and it’s not like, a huge part of my life or anything. I still obviously like everything else normal guys like, I just particularly enjoy that specifically as well, too. Like people are attracted to eyes or whatever. You know?” 

Mira has her hands on the counter edge as she starts to swing her legs forwards and backwards slowly, unlocking their ankles and narrowing her eyes as she continues next, 

“So, what do you think of mine then?” She says lowly, purposefully trying to fish for some personal compliments, curling her lip and pushing down onto it with her top row of teeth in anticipation of the boy’s answer and hoping its positive.

Anthony hesitates and glances down to the table, licking his lip nervously and clearing his throat, worried at Mira’s coming reaction, but even more scared of what she might do if he foolishly tried to lie. He's hoping she doesn't find his answer creepy or odd, but there's no other alternative.
“Well...They’re... “he makes a nervous, and pointless, throat clearing  noise into his hand's gathered fist, trying to buy himself precious moments, “they're... perfect.” He mutters at last, looking up and over to her as he struggles to remain composed, embarrassment red on his face as he says nothing further.

“Perfect?” Mira says with a smile, pleased with herself, and excited at his appraisal. 

“Like, the best you’ve ever seen? Really?!” She says wearing her grin with rising affection, her eyes lighting up like miniature dark stars in response.
Anthony smiles back anxiously and nods once, certain of his answer as his brown-haired crush beams in response, something that comforts his anxiety and makes him smile even wider. 

Mira hops down from the counter and heads over to where Anthony is seated, placing a finger on his shoulder and saying down to him with an eager instruction.

“Don’t go anywhere I’ll be right back.” She says rushing slightly passed him and heading down the hall.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Anthony calls after her as she reaches the door to the apartment’s only bedroom.

“Just wait there for a second!” she calls back with enthusiasm, something that is contagious to Anthony as well as he turns back to the table feeling a blend of curiosity and anticipation. 

Mira isn’t gone long, and the young man at the table hears a clanking of sorts as the girl comes back to the kitchen, carrying in both hands a small plastic box of about a dozen or different colors of nail polish, in no particular order and some clearly having been used more than others. Anthony blinks in surprise but has a partial idea about where this is inevitably going.

 “Since you’ve been so good lately,” the girl says aloud down to him as she stands adjacent, “I want you to pick a color for me to wear.”

Anthony blushed and glanced at the box, then back at Mira as she sits down in a chair next to him,

“A color?”

“Yeah, come on, it'll be fun! I want to know what you like so I can wear it for you!”

The young man gulps of his body's own accord and mutters out, more than a little surprised, and not an insubstantial amount captivated by his friend's show of gratitude. She's just admitted she wants to do something for him, to intentionally flaunt or gift him with a private form of happiness, and he struggles suddenly come to grips with the small honor he's received.

“You...Want to wear it for me?”

  “Yes, I want to wear it for you.” She quietly says out to him, no spark of humor or mocking tone in her voice this time.

Silence comes for a moment as Mira stares over at Anthony, his emotions ticking away like a clock and slowly coming to understand what she's saying to him.

“But don't get too excited,” she says beginning to sift through the contents of her small box, inspecting different colors and placing them in loose piles as she does so, “I mostly only have different whites and darks, I'm not super fond of bright yellow or warm colors.”

“No, that's- that's fine. I like you in white...In general.” Anthony says, at last gathering his fluttering thoughts, “You're really pretty in white, Mira.”
She pauses while holding a small white glass jar, of the all the others this one, in particular, seemed to have the most of its contents missing, indicating it was probably, also, her favorite color. She smiles over to him and closes her eyes, moistening her lips before replying, inhaling deeply before uttering to her not-so-secret crush.

“Thanks...You're sweet...”

He grins back to her, not able to stop his teeth from breaking across his lips, clearly excited for her affection and the simple moment they were sharing.

“And um...I...” Mira starts, slightly scolding herself inwardly for not offering a compliment in turn, and hurriedly trying to reciprocate.

“I think you look good in everything!”  

Anthony blurted out laughing, trying to act as though he hadn't noticed Mira's obvious difficulty with flirting with him.

“Well, I appreciate it. I always try to look my best for you, so I like to wear, “everything,” he says, placing emphasis on the last word, taking a playful poke at her minute flash of awkwardness.

Mira blushes bright red and closes her eyes, turning partially away.

“I just wanted to say...You don't look awful...I mean....ugh...Whatever, you know what I meant!”

“Yes,” he says plainly, smiling at her, “I know what you meant.”


#    #    #    #   

The whistle blew again, and everyone slowed their paces immediately, a short five-minute break being announced with the sharp sound of the stand-in referee's tool. Kyle trotted over to Anthony as he brought his fist up to bump with his best friend's, the evening game had gone well for them, and though they were winning, it was not by any means, a normal pick-up match.

Three of the opposing players in the game were actually members of the school's reserve basketball team, while one other, the best of the four by a significant amount, was a friendly, darker skinned man that had taken to Anthony and Kyle's team, to make things even. Anthony was dripping sweat as he walked over with Kyle to the sideline near where Mira sat in the adjacent bleachers, a few steps beyond the area for the participants. 

Mira picked up both boy's respective water bottles and handed them over, both guys taking in great mouthfuls of the cold ice water as she set down her typical notepad and pen.

Anthony swallowed hard and gasped, only now catching his breath and nodding sharply to Mira,

“Thanks, hope you're not too bored.”

The young man says to her playfully, smiling as he sets his bottle back down, Kyle wiping his face on his forearm before interjecting.

“Yeah, its gotta be boring watching him,” indicating to Anthony with a smirk, “He's always been the less interesting of the two of us.”

Mira glances for a brief second before smiling back at Anthony and shooting at the small Loki imposter,

“I'm not really into sure what the rules are, but I know the basics, and I like watching you. And for the record, you're much more interesting than Frodo over here.”

Anthony covers his mouth as he almost explodes into laughter, his female friend smirking and narrowing her eyes at Kyle.

“Hey! That's not funny man!”

He says, trying foolishly to defend himself, but he's taken a poke at Anthony, and to Mira, no one is allowed to do that; except her.

“Yeah? What do you have listed for your height on your Tindr profile? 5'6? 5'7?”

The other two members of the conversation laugh again as Kyle leans forward, right-hand index finger raised and swinging in frustration,

“I'm 5'8 and a half dammit! And I don't need Tindr anymore, I'm seeing Allison, remember?”

“Easy man, we're just playing,” Anthony says while still chuckling.

As the three converse, and the break starts to come to a close, through a hallway that leads past the bleachers and outside of the gymnasium, Allison comes around the corner as if on cue, book bag over her shoulder and waving as she approaches.

“Hey you guys! Hey babe!” She says making it over to Kyle as he moves away to meet her, Anthony and Mira quickly exchanging a neutral glance. Allison is dressed for class in a set of jeans and a striped button up shirt, whereas the boys of the group are in athletic clothes and Mira has on a pair of denim shorts and her favorite jacket.

Kyle shares a quick peck on the cheek with Allison as she comes to stand with everyone else, putting her bag down next to Mira.

“How much of the game is left?” she says to everyone.

“We're almost done, maybe another ten minutes or so, not long. Are you gonna stay?” Kyle answers for everyone quickly.

“Yeah! Definitely, I'll hang out with Mira while you guys have fun! Good luck, baby!” she says, calling out to Kyle as the whistle is blown again, indicating the break in the game over.

The two boys swap encouraging words and jog back to the opposite edge of the court, Allison glancing down to Mira, her demeanor still deceptively pleasant, though the half demon can tell she's lying through her eyes and smile.  The demonette's blood starts to tremble, not out of fear, but understanding she's in the presence of a genuine threat.

“So, how are you, Mira?”

Mira picks back up her notebook and looks down to it, trying in no way to engage in polite conversation, she doesn't want to be friends with this woman, and she doesn't want to spend any more time than she has to with her pretending to be.

“I'm fine, thanks.”

“Oh good! Well, how's your boyfriend? You guys doing well together?”

Mira sighs at the question, internally frustrated with her efforts to maintain some kind of calm appearance.

“We're seeing each other, but he's not my boyfriend,” she says, a small prick of regret at the admission coming up to her throat, though not because the fact is some kind of secret, but because she wants the opposite to be true.
“Oh, I see, so he hasn't asked you out?”

Mira looks up now from her notebook, irritated she's no longer alone and her attention has to be directed elsewhere, a group of her dark hair, sharpened to a long point, drooping down before her face as she turns.

“No, we talked about it, but we're staying friends for a while.”

Allison glances around suspiciously before leaning slightly over, her voice already naturally a bit deeper than Mira's as it comes out next with a conspiratorial tone.

“Is it because he's tiny for part of the day?” She whispers despite the arena's noise.

Mira's whole body goes still as she maintains a stare with the blonde woman, her green eyes not shifting as she subtly acknowledges she knows the truth of their situation, for the first time someone else admitting so. Anthony's roommate considers for a moment this is some kind of play for him, or about him in the least, and even though she's not surprised to hear her prospective boyfriend's observation had been true, she is taken aback by Allison's ease at which she offers that information.

“What's it to you, bitch?” Mira says, all order of nicety or calm evaporating at the possible threat she poses to Anthony. She's done pretending, and it seems Allison is too.

The green-eyed girl scoffs, and then smirks, looking away and watching the boys play basketball, taking care not to let on to anyone else the subject of their private conversation's subject matter.

“Just don't let anything happen to him, you freak.” Allison starts to say as she looks back at Mira, finishing the short exchange with an insult that makes the demon girl's blood boil in anger, her eyes narrowing in silent reply. The two are in a deadlocked stare, an unseen strike of lightning dancing between their harsh judgments of each other as they both openly display their animosity towards one another.

Mira would very much like to kill her, right now if she could, as the background noise of the large gymnasium echoes and cascades, she starts to consider to herself how she might go about doing that, though she can tell it would be a far different hunt than anything she's ever tried previously.

As the pair remain quiet, their stare is at last broken by a rising sound of abrupt commotion, the sounds of rising male voices and a seemingly brief struggle ensues as the pair both glance over tot he basketball court. The orange and black ball bounces away, disregarded as the two teams seem to be gathering together, pulling and shoving at one another, shouting insults and a few members trying to stop whatever is going on in the center of the group, mostly out of sight.

“Hey! HEY! That's enough, Kyle!” Mira picked out from the chorus of howls and jeers, the voice that had shouted clearly her roommate's.

Anthony was tugging on his friend by the waist as he tore the man away, his limbs still flailing and grasping for another player as a few of his own teammates were pulling him aside in turn. The pair were in the center of a quickly improvised circle the other men and a few bystanders had made out of familiar cultural practice, and as Anthony and the substitute player on their team pulled him off and away, a second, more angry cry from across the emptied ring of the court.

“Fuck you kid, your feet were moving! Punk!”

The two sides were relatively separated when Mira and Allison both got up and began making their way over to the confrontation, the pair of them sharing a worried look as they stepped onto the smooth wood of the court.

The scuffle had been broken up it seemed for now, as Anthony and his fellow African American teammate let go of Kyle, his teeth gritted and fists balled up, still hungry for more though and feeling insulted.  The other set of men released their own member and the young man, around the same age as Kyle and Anthony, though taller than the brown-haired man's best friend, pointed an accusatory index finger at the pair and shouted to them specifically.

“You two assholes are banned, I don't wanna see you back at my court!”

Obviously confused and taken aback at the crazy thought of that sentence being enforced, or even remotely valid, Anthony shot back in an instant, his own blood running up so soon after playing and the brief fracas.

“The court doesn't belong to you man, get your head outta your ass!”

That comment evidently didn't help the situation as the opposing player, his short black hair and equally dark eyes scowled at the reply from the man a few inches taller than him. The apparent leader of the group, the one that Kyle had gotten involved with, surged forwards before his friends were able to restrain him this time, and Anthony saw now that he was now the target of his renewed assault, not his buddy.

There were only a few meters between the packs of boys as Anthony's attacker closed the distance in an quickly, racking back his right fist and preparing to fire into his face as he lunged to get into range. Anthony could see it coming, and in a heartbeat, on instinct, brought his left arm up to cover his face and slanted his torso fractionally to the right. The length of time which the two were engaged was short, but the prospect for injury to either party was severe, especially now that they were not held back by any of the onlookers.

The other man's fist rebounded off of Anthony's blocking forearm and bicep with a sharp thud of pain. In response, he struck out immediately after on pure reflex,  throwing forward his right elbow, his reach was greater than his would-be assailant, but he was too close to try and cock back his whole arm's length to counter in time.

Mira, as well as everyone else in the gathering, gasped out as the hard bone of Anthony's elbow connected with the other man's face, sending him to the floor in a single counter strike, his opponent collapsing onto his backside and leaning on his arm, dazed and trying after a few seconds to prop himself up. A chorus of, “ohhh's,” came up in response to the strike, nothing that seemed to be egging the two on for more, instead the noise taking from most, a tone of approval.

“Woah man, stop, take it easy bro! He's always a dick, man!”

The African American man stepped towards Anthony and placed himself in front of his body, lightly placing his palms down onto his chest and pushing him back, though Anthony himself could worryingly feel his adrenaline urging him to shove him aside and continue the fight further.

Mira appeared next and pushed the darker skinned man away, eyes calm and voice measured as she next placed a single hand over his heart,

“Hey, that's enough.”

Anthony felt his blood boil at trying to be contained, despite the person trying to help being the most important person in his life,

“Did you see wha-,” he said pointing a finger over at the man over Mira's shoulder, now getting helped to his feet, a thin trail of blood running down his left nostril and dripping onto his shirt.

“I don't care what he did,” the demonette said flatly, next raising her voice fractionally and her speech taking on a more scolding pitch, “I said...That's enough.” She said with commanding finality, but for good measure, gathering the digits of her hand except for her index finger, which kept its position above his pulsating life muscle.

Anthony settled himself, looking down at Mira, who mirrored staring up at him. He swallowed hard and wiped his face with the back of his hand, getting the sweat off his upper lip and nodding down to Mira as she let his eyes sink to the ground, suddenly a little ashamed of himself.  He looked back up in time to see her glance back at his former basketball opponent, the pair of them staring over as he called out in a mocking tone,

“Yeah that's right bro, listen to your slut!”

The demonette's partner lost it in that moment, and the animalistic snarl that roared from his lips at the insult made all in earshot's eyes widen in alarm. Mira, thinking quickly, grabbed onto Anthony's left arm as Kyle seized his right, the pair having difficulty holding him back as he still took a step or two forward, towards the jerk who was now clearly afraid and taking a step back with his friends. The African American guy wrapped his arms around the frenzied young man's torso and pulled him back, adding his strength to his restraint and beginning to finally drag him away and over to the edge of the court as he bayed for blood at the injustice to his prospective lover.


“Come on man, come on, its not worth it, bruh!” the new addition to Anthony's team was heard trying to reason with him, and as the trio managed to get him away over to the hallway for the gym exit, Mira could feel herself growing intoxicated with affection, her senses tingling at such a display of defending her honor, and his ability to inflict pain upon others.

#    #    #    #


Anthony had his things in a bag over his shoulder, the sun setting as the last half hour of time before 7 PM ticked away, Mira at his side as they made it to the sidewalk leading to the parking lot. She was smiling, though by comparison her roommate was quiet and reserved. She needed to let him know everything was alright, and to do so she decided to speak, even if it may be too soon after the whole incident with the other basketball players just a few minutes before.

“You got a little speed in you... I have to say, you always seemed quick, but you really surprised me.”

Anthony sighed as he glanced down then back to his path,

“Yeah, I used to fight with my older cousins all the time, and I sort of got into trouble a lot in high school with people.”

Their steps are equal in pace as Mira continues, her flip-flops making audible, appropriate noises as she trotted along, her white nails proudly on display for all to see.

“Thanks, Anthony, for sticking up for me earlier.” She says quietly, offering a small, different type of smile this time, one that says she's thankful to have someone like him around by her side.

He licks his lips nervously, and lowly says down to her when he's let out a sigh of preparation,

“You should never be treated like that. He wasn't going to insult you and get away with it if I could do something about it,” He pauses a moment, “You should have let me.”

“No, we don't have time for that kind of thing,” she reminds him saying, something Anthony hadn't considered, completely lost in the moment of the situation, “but if we had, I would have let you. It was cute to see you angry and all ready to take it out on someone...And...I like the way you treat me...” She comments giggling, reflecting on the image of her favorite person red hot with emotion at her expense.

Anthony clears his throat and replies, a little bashful at being told something so forthcoming by Mira, and as the two share an endearing look, they make their way near to Anthony's car as he reaches for his bag to get his keys out. A voice calls out from behind them though, the nearly empty lot revealing easily a group of men as they approach, walking between the cars, the dark-haired and eyed college student Anthony had gotten mixed up with at their head.

“Hey asshole, you leaving already?”
The young man who was a part of Anthony's team is among them, and the group stalks closer to the pair as they turn around at the pronouncement. Mira and her friend reverse around as he sighs heavily, understanding what they've apparently followed them for, and hurriedly exchanging a glance with her.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, what you say we get to know each other better, man?” The man says tapping his nose painfully and upholding an obvious facade of courteous sincerity.

Anthony leans over without making it obvious he's going to speak to Mira, the girl herself not at all bothered by the approaching pack. This group of former sports opponents openly suggesting they've come to enact violence on him, and possibly, to his dread, Mira.

“Mira, listen to me,” he begins, deadly serious all of a sudden as he lowers his voice, “I want you to take my keys and get away from here.”

She glares but keeps her eyes on the advancing squad, muttering, in a not so subtle voice of anger,

“Don't ever tell me to run, you're lucky were out here and not at home. Besides, there's only four of them.”

“This isn't going to go well, Mira, seriously, get yourself out of here.”

She looks up to him now, not affected by the imminent threat of a beating in the slightest.

“It's 6:55." She says up to him, coming to, in her mind, what is the sole logical conclusion.  "There's only one way out of this, I know you won't like it, but I'm sorry.” The demonette says with grim resignation, taking steps forward towards the loosely grouped men, away from the protection of Anthony, whose eyes go wide in surprise and his heart begins to sink. He suddenly understands, with horrifying revelation, he realizes what Mira is about to do, but he's frozen in place, firmly unable to act as the sheer terror of her intent sinks its fangs into his mind.

“Hey there boys, I'm Mira, Anthony's roommate!”

She continues to take steps closer as they stop, she has already, while her friend foolishly contemplated her retreat, scanned the immediate area to check if there would be any witnesses to what she was planning to do. And to her relief, and simultaneous regret, there was only Anthony.

“What?” The leader asks in confusion, “What do you want, bitch? Get out of the way or-!”

She cuts him off, not slowing her pace, “Oh trust me,” she mutters as she gets into range with her last step, there's not a lot of distance in between them, but with a little luck, she'd get them all at once.

“I'm much worse than a bitch, human.”

She ripped her black ink pen from her pocket and drew an ancient rune on her palm, the very same she had drawn out of sight on the cold kitchen floor for Anthony all those weeks ago, the surface of which as it completed began to brighten with red colored air and sizzled with unnatural temperature of neither heat nor cold.

The men saw the light and heard her final statement of inhumanity, but were transfixed by the totally unreal nature of her words and actions. Mira began to smile as she realized, even now, if they tried to flee, it would be too late.

“Mira! No-” was all that Anthony could muster as he doubled over in agony, falling to his knees, then rolling onto his side, teeth clenched and bones on fire, blooding rolling onto his tongue as he felt the same change the group was about to undergo, happen to him.

The inhuman girl slammed her palm flat on the asphalt of the parking lot, a red ring forming in an instant, circling and exploding the area with abnormal light and strange arcs of perverse crimson electricity.  A couple of them cried out, it was impossible to tell which, but the instant Mira's palm had impacted the floor, it was already done, and their cries of agony fell on largely deaf ears, save of course for her own.
 
Anthony tried to shut out the pain but simply could not,  gritting his teeth and groaning in frustration and anguish at what he knew Mira had done, combined with his recent change.

The group was still in a loose pack, all of them brought to the black tar floor, standing no more than an inch in height and obviously all disoriented.

Mira loomed overhead, looking down at them without emotion, reaching down into her bag and fiddling around for a very important item she'd been carrying as a habit since moving away to college. She saw them before her sandals, her toes making them look like tiny insects as she stood menacingly high above, a couple of them now looking back up at her and beginning to panic with increasing fear.

At the next moment, she plucked a modified vial she had taken from a chemistry class from her bag, the tube of glass topped with a cork that had a small pin hole poked into it for air, empty, and ready to receive its next batch of poor prisoners.

She knelt down and her immense body, uncaring gaze, and fingers filled the vision of all the human ants as they tried in pointless vanity to scatter before her encroaching form. She plucked them,  one at a time and placed them, kicking and screaming into her small receptacle, placing the top back on and lifting the vial up to her eyes after finishing, poking the exterior as a child might poke a fish tank in dull curiosity.

They panicked even more, but all seemed to have survived their swift, unforeseen, reduction in stature as her massive finger tapped the glass with little regard for their safety.

She held the tube in her enormous grip, the huge image of her fist wrapping around and cutting off most light into the container, and quickly turned to find Anthony, her heart skipping a beat as she realized he had reduced in size as well, right on schedule.

“Anthony?!” she said with a tiny jolt of apprehension, “Where are you?! Say something!”

She spied his bag on the ground and hastily began scanning the ground, not moving another inch, no matter where she expected him to be.  Her eyes flashed around as she kept a firm hold of her newest victims, her chest undulating as she felt a creep of worry slither around into her stomach.

At last after a few moments, but what seemed like agonizing minutes, she found him next to his simple black, draw-string bag, trying to sit up from a fallen position, groaning in pain and panting.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed out heavily, stepping over to him, her footfalls making the earth tremble at her casual stroll, next carefully kneeling down to him, “there you are. Are you alright?” she said, her frighteningly large presence filling his vision.

He coughed, and felt himself want to  vomit, not yet catching his breath as he attempted to reply,

“You- Mira, You-”

“I know,” she said remorsefully sympathetic, “but it was the only way. Come here.”

The gorgeous non-human popped the cork of the vial with her free hand and with great care, took Anthony by his shirt and tipped the vial, letting him slide down to where the rest of the miniaturized men were captive.

“I'm sorry Anthony, it's the only place I know you'll be safe.” She said with a sincere apology, her face, however, contorting an instant later to that of livid anger and palpable threat.

“If any of you lay as much as a finger on him!” she paused letting her rage-filled tone sink in, clearly having the desired effect as the all of the men except for her friend cowered in fear, “I'll feed you to an ant hill, you little pests.”

With that, she shoved the cork back into the vile top and placed the container back into her purse's side pocket, quickly scooping up Anthony's bag, and more importantly, his keys, so that she could drive them all home, where for some of them, the night would end with their deaths.