Otherworldly Connection: The Coin of Worldbuilding

By Violetta Streltsova and Denis Simonov

The 21st century is a century of rapid development of technologies, both earthly and otherworldly, hidden from most mortal inhabitants.

This world has given birth to many supernatural creatures. It's a world shrouded in dark secrets, constantly wavering between light and darkness. By fate, the hellish huntress and the predatory lycanthrope unite, connected by common motives and something greater.

Their goal is to overcome the evil surrounding them, an evil eager to bite off a piece of space between worlds.

Finally, it raises a question: Is there a line that should not be crossed in pursuit of a dream?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Violetta Streltsova
• Release date: Apr 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224782413

Book preview

Act I. Otherworldly Connection.

But our life is so much more

Than chasing shadows on the floor

We don't need to lose our faith

To find each other in this place

Yes, we've said enough for now

We've said it all, no more

It is believed that life forms approaching death see a rapid succession of images and memories from their lives. It's like watching a movie about your own story, from beginning to end. For me it happened like this. I saw everything that made me who I am, and every doom’s step that led me from the moment of my true birth to the moment of my death...

This is called a 'symphony of peaceworld', when the end becomes the beginning.

Connection is a phenomenon of relationship between objects, separated either in space or in time, mutually influencing each other.

Every story starts with something.

Hello, world! And greetings to you, observer! Do you want to know a piece of truth, shrouded in darkness?

I told you: ain’t no rest for the wicked. All stuck in a maze of confusion’s doubt, there’s no clear path and no break out. All these souls, besotted on my blood, have burrowed deep into my bones. No one here will complete their journey and find another way.

They are standing guard in the watchtower, at the crossroads between worlds, smiling until someone takes the floor: The flow of time only matters if you wish to deeply feel your life, spreading the story you’ve created, in accordance with truth without any lie, journeying from death until your last breath. No one will see the true beginning without reaching to the end. They have already gone through this. Your time is now, before it’s too late. Open your mind along your eyes. There is no point in worrying, when your soul is a stigma, and life is just someone’s jest.

But, undoubtedly, this is the best thing that happened beyond the edge of worlds. A grand epic, majestically created with the rebirth from the ashes of a new world, previously lost in the darkness of a dream. This is the natural result. The result of the beginning and the end, the result of sense and nonsense, good and evil, humans and nonhumans, feelings and insensitivity. This world belongs to them.

In every world and every universe, the rulers of the land have been removed, the crowns of the oldest kings have changed, and the thrones of power have been exchanged. Rulers grew and they withered, enveloped in a deadly freeze. There are always two sides to a coin, but the outcome is the same for all, whether you growl or you howl. In all these worlds and other universes, the goal remains unchanged.

To be honest, this knowledge has gone too far. Each connection forces me to become estranged and be alone, leading to the revival of thoughts, one by one.

And so, the face of this story is the skillful Hellish huntress - a lady separated from the world, mired in the darkness of fading, lost in the halls of her own mind, dedicating her remaining life to the search for mystical power capable of recreating the primordial idyll in a new bright world. This strange place inside me, more precisely, the more unusual life of a bloody dark beast, previously unreachable by the time of infinity.

It’s hard to believe, but when I was young, I created a core inside myself - a place in space that filled part of the void. Even though I tried to get rid of this part of me, I always returned to the core, the call led me. It was wrong and it embarrassed me, because I was born there by unnatural rules.

And now, in the end, I’m here. In the new home. In the new mad mind story. Sweet and young, unhappy, unloved, and wrong. Stepping into the brave new world, towards him - the old hunter - the delightful hero with whom we have to go together and separately through this long and difficult path in the race against time, through the terrible secrets of the past and the beautiful charms of the present, leading to the future, to the coveted healing...

I know a lot. Like that kindness can lead to death, and anger leads to flame. Ash turns into stone, and time becomes dark. And always, before the next change, it becomes freezing cold, and tears start to flow down the cheeks. So many lies have passed through me. This is so wrong.

And yet, there is still to survive the nine circles of Hell and meet face to face with your nightmares, overcome your weaknesses and exalt your strengths, fight with spirits and demons, werewolves and vampires, meeting the most intricate supernatural creatures that this world has given birth to. The scale of this adventure is too great, having absorbed the most unknown and unreachable. This is a story about survival, ascents and crushing falls, alienation, inflexibility, and silence in the deep abyss of thoughts.

But the strangest thing is always ahead. And not everything is what it seems. Without exaggeration, this is happening not for the first time, like in a loop. Between Hell and Heaven. In one of the many worlds, the earth is crushed under bloody wars, where some survivors, without hope for salvation, look death in the face, alien to this world and each other, they have to work together to try to survive these dark times.

Time presents cruel surprises again and again: unknown creatures like a mysterious man and his pale copies in the pre-death freezing cold - spirits of forgotten heroes, and generalizing embodied unrestrained aggression on the part of all mankind. The dark energy web has enveloped this world, comes into the very essence of the atmosphere, that changes in chemicals connectivities. And everyone has fallen into the abyss...

Cutie beast, stigmed with the omega sign, so many times hopes and expectation that she would be able to find out the lie, created by someone's fake, bypass the other side and look from the edge, see the end and the new beginning.

In order to, ultimately, know the truth, it is necessary to see the power in all its manifestations, both in light and in darkness.

V.

Death has a beginning but does not have an end.

Prologue. Enemy in the Reflection.

I came into this world from its very inception. On the day of the winter solstice, on the longest night, on the land of the newfound universe, named ‘Connection’, there were two of us. Since then, a lot of time has passed by, and I, as if for the first time, am torturing myself trying to overcome the impossible with my decisions. I am like a supernatural disaster, and I want to run away again and be far away from everyone, to break free from the captivity of time and dissolve in space.

At first, I did not want to deal with it. My unsuccessful experience told me to stop, to end this and forget. But I was struck by the multifaceted nature of the world. I was majestic, invincible, like a ghost - cautious, silent, floating with the flow of time, fully controlling it; and only the dark energy, that no one saw, reminded of me, causing goosebumps on the skin, unnaturally revealed half-measures, with which the world continued to sway between life and death, pierced by exhausting greedy threads of dark vessels, draining the very boundless existence.

I was always otherworldly, watched like a boss over subordinates - the leader of my flock. Everyone was afraid of me, understanding that their life depends on my will. But, little by little, my divine power began to fade, and feeling that I am not able to overcome this, I estranged myself from everything, hoping to reduce the damage. But it was huge, and my consciousness clouded. That’s how I lost a piece of myself. Since then, my life has turned into sheer Hell.

And all because I was too attached to my creations, and it was this little weakness that awakened the monster - a dangerous, invisible monster, from which everything went awry: darkness became light, and light turned into darkness, time lines blurred, and I didn’t have the strength to hold it back. Everything burst, turned into a pitch-dark abyss, filled with lost echoes of souls. And then, realizing my weakness, I ran away. It didn’t matter where. Where the eyes look. So here I go. Here and there, and nothing more. I don't know where I'm going, but I just keep moving on.

I hid for a long... and time has gone... until I feel that I can’t do it anymore. That no one but me can correct this injustice. And I returned. I found that part of myself that I lost, and, seduced by the devil’s song of faith in myself, led by the light, I plunged into the dark whirlpool again, headlong.

I didn’t flinch, not for a second. I was drawn in. Feeling how I was being torn apart, I thought about this confusion. There are too many of these feelings, they are unbearable and contradictory, but the time has come, and I needed to accept them. And so the collision ended. I suffered a defeat, deceived by the devil inside me. I desperately tried to escape from captivity for many years, but knew that I was doomed. Still, I made a breakthrough, detached myself from this essence, and finally, spreading my wings, I dropped the mask, slowly and hesitantly was able to accept myself, shattered like a broken glass, not nourishing hopes for a better outcome. And he watched, from above, confidently, showing his superiority. Even being free, I remained in the locked metal cage at the very bottom. There were two of us. And each wanted to open the cage first, I to escape, and he to finish me off. Indulging in memories of a spoiled life, each of us waited for a long time, even though we did not know how it would all end, wanted to finish it.

I was slowly rising, trying to hold on, but I didn’t feel victory. Everything was so hard for me, and he didn’t even try. His hands, reeking of death, restrained me. Holding on resolutely, I impatiently broke through him, changing more and more. And he just smiled, playing with me like a toy. And I tried to slip away, to dispel the darkness with light, but the fog did not allow me to see the path, and no way out, no exit signs. I can’t fight him on equal terms. I can’t stop him that easily. Despite my determination, I am weak.

But I am not completely nonentity. At least I got close to the goal. I dare to challenge fate, and no power can dissuade me. I know there will be an answer to audacity, a catastrophe is born out of conflict. But I no longer avoid collisions. The more blows I strike, the more I get in return. I was sweet and became cold, my eyes spew fire, and anger pulsates on my face. And even though I am the size of a drop, my will is as vast as the ocean. So I am in eternal captivity of my desires, and every day I'm just surviving. Getting closer and closer, and even when I feel like dying I didn't stop, kept trying. Another night I'm barely holding on, a step away from disappearing forever, and I understand that I live like this, slowly dying every day. Maybe this is all that is destined for me. But I am still alive. Keep climbing higher and higher, realizing that it will hurt more to fall. One day for me everything will plunge into darkness, but until then I will displace the darkness with remnants of light, forcing myself to live another day. And still I will drown in this ocean, but I think ain't no rest for the wicked.

Perhaps, it’s worth telling about my cage - my refuge, being in which is a daily torture. So to speak, the devil, my mirror embodiment, is just me, but on the other side. My poisoned perception does not allow me to accept him in me, hence he cannot accept me. And all we did was look for a way out on an alienated islet in the halls of the mind. Each of us is on our own, we didn’t care about the victims of the creatures we created. They lived their lives in our little world over and over again, but he was able to remain cold, and I was not. With each cycle, I realized the stupidity of what we created. These algorithms led to catastrophic events for my perception. All the ideas and beliefs of my past destroyed the present me. I changed my attitude towards the world. And to bring myself back, I have to correct old mistakes. The captivity of my thoughts must cease, and I will not have to betray myself again. I will build bridges between worlds, and algorithms will not limit imagination. Worlds will be united regardless of space and time. I don’t want to be part of artificial decorations limiting existence. Hints at gods, the philosophical significance of life, the study of the infinity of the space surrounding us, all this should not contradict the multifaceted nature of our consciousness. We decide our own fate, and only the limitations that we impose on ourselves create that catastrophe that separates us. All the best knowledge that we can pass on to each other is lost against the background of the conventions of the existence of complex interaction algorithms, rules limiting consciousness and perception of the versatility of the universal world.

Once he told me that he sees my light in the darkness. And that no one knows what’s going on in our heads, except for us. Our thoughts are invisible to others, and no one knows the knowledge that is only ours. Some divide the world into black and white, but others see everything in a different light. I know everything about you and your world, and you know everything about mine. Our color palettes are similar, despite our detachment from each other. I am the leader of another part of you, which you cannot accept. I see the fire in your heart, and anger. And that’s okay. You are rushing at the speed of light in the flow of movement time. But I see you, and I look at you. Only I can understand you, don’t expect the same from others. And if one of us falls, we both will fall. To stay sane is an extremely difficult task. Constant movement requires studying new circumstances on the way, changing the angle of view, both on the surrounding world and on oneself.

And despite the struggle of our ideas, he knew me and understood my feelings. When I turned away from him, he constantly looked back. I know that the feeling of mystical unsurpassedness captivates him just as it does me. But deep, deep down inside, we are still too different. And the pulsating connection between us will soon fade.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to fall asleep, and I think about the past. About how I should have thought well before putting lives on the line of fate. I understand how I got confused. Unity is the only hope that gives me strength. I had nothing to lose. I was on the edge and barely didn’t take a step into the abyss. The harm that I inflicted on others and myself... I would like to leave the past in the past. I know that I can’t change what I did, and what I didn’t do. I don’t know if I will be alright. But I know that he is the reason why I am still alive. He knows all my secrets, he understands all my demons. All the best and worst that I had and have. I don’t see the future, but I know it goes from good to bad and worse so fast.

We will go to each other only once - the last time. Me against him, he against me. This will break both of us, regardless of the result. I’m always at the bottom and I can’t surface otherwise. The ones we will hurt are he and me. But this is a necessary sacrifice. A sacrifice that will make me happier.

Deep down, I know that I have no idea what to do. I can take responsibility for my decisions, but I can’t stop feeling hopeless and doomed... and I wish this path would never end. There is no meaning in the end, just as there was none at the beginning. I feel like I’m drowning in my thoughts and can’t do anything about it. It gnaws at me. And I can’t blame anyone for this but myself. I have a weird life, and with each day, I recognize myself less and less, always waiting for when it will deal a crushing blow. Dark times have long since arrived. And I would like to run away into the abyss again, dissolve in timelessness, and rejoice in what is here and now, making just one moment an eternity. But I have to deal with reality, where I need to move on, even not knowing where it will lead.

I made myself out to be a villain I am not. I’m just a human. I lost my temper, took out my anger on others, it’s so easy. And I take the blame on myself, only causing myself pain, and I hate myself for it. This has been going on for too long.

And again, chasing myself, like the first time, I pour out my soul looking at the wall, and apparently, will do it til I die. The past hurt me very much, and the wound is still bleeding to this day. But all we are is temporary, right?

Ah, who am I talking to?!.. You’re just a cat... or a pussy? Pussy... very fucking funny. Sorry. Are you a boy or a girl? Ah, it doesn’t really matter. It seems your milk has run out. Wait, I’ll pour you some more. It’s not right to listen to a drunkard without a tasty treat.

Everyone's just trying to be somebody. Yeah we're all a little stunned by reality. But I often feel like I’m already dead. I'm lost in these memories, feel cracks across the thoughts. There’s so much devastation inside me that I just wish it was all just a terrible dream. I’m fighting against me to be myself. The foolish irony.

Chapter One. The Algorithm of the Dark Side.

Near a dark semi-desert highway

Cool wind in this place

Warm coziness of the party

Rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance

View of big city lights

But my head was heavy and my eyes closing up

Staying in a small roadside hotel

The Quiet Hours telling name

The hotel had a history of welcoming travelers who sought respite from the noise and chaos of the world, and some who did not, but still, they all appreciated the simple pleasures of life. Some of them even claimed that the hotel had a special power, the power that could grant their wishes and make their dreams come true. Whether this was true or not, no one could deny that the hotel was a place where miracles could happen and where anything was possible.

It was a late warm night on the first day, boasting a starry sky. Excellent weather for the New Year. In the Los Angeles area - in Woodland Hills, in a small roadside hotel with the speaking name Quiet Hours, the hours were far from quiet: dancing, alcohol - the celebration was gaining momentum, and the night promised to be crazy when, flashing gloomy shadows on the other side of the door, two extraordinary personalities appeared, like a gust of wind, heralding an approaching storm, trying to change the hot mood of the surroundings with their harsh coolness, which immediately blew from the new guests. One of them - a man of about thirty, or maybe forty, dressed in a black jacket unbuttoned, with a black shirt underneath, unbuttoned one button at the top, in black jeans and with black patent leather shoes on his feet, tall, with short and black as pitch, slightly shabby hair, clearly physically enduring and definitely well-built man, whose pale face with light stubble and a cold tinge of blueness was adorned with large black sunglasses. The second - who entered right behind him, was his exact copy.

Once inside, the strangers walked through the bar hall as if on a catwalk, leisurely looking around, noticing the back door on the other side of the building, moving in sync, but as if in a mirror reflection of each other, attracting the attention of those present. The bartender instantly spotted the law enforcement habits in the men, watching them closely from behind the bar.

Having glanced at the modestly decorated roadside hotel bar in the traditionally fashionable New Year’s colors of Hollywood - blue with silver, with a light touch of bright red garlands and golden beads mixed with silver pendants, the men reached the bar counter, sitting down with each other, meeting the bartender’s gaze, showing him their threateningly serious faces.

Rough night, officers? the bartender, an older man with a touch of gray in his light chestnut hair and a somewhat unkempt short beard, dressed in a simple red checkered shirt and regular light blue jeans, said impassively. You could use some hot coffee with donuts.

The strange dread of these officers gave the bartender goosebumps from the feeling of cold emanating from them, even though the temperature outside could not be called cold.

You read minds, one of them replied with a smile, but sternly, leaning on the bar counter, exchanging glances with the other, sitting similarly to him.

Soon after serving them hot coffee, the bartender once again looked at the strange faces of the cops, saying, You’re not very heat-loving, are you? Is it a family thing?

We’re looking for someone, one of the officers quickly and clearly responded, ignoring the bartender’s words.

Waking up from sleep late at night, a young fair-skinned girl peeled off the table, leaving its imprint on her right cheek, and adjusting her tousled medium-length chestnut hair, she rubbed her brown eyes with lush eyelashes, after finding an empty beer bottle in front of her, and a saucer with remnants of milk nearby.

The window was slightly ajar, and in the faint flicker of the moon, the girl felt something was off, her skin covered in goosebumps. Not wanting to spend the night there, she quickly gathered her things and left the room, descending down the stairs to the bar, which was half-empty despite the merry crowd.

Usually, we don’t ask questions of guests if they can pay for the room, officers. Confidentiality, you know, said the manager — the bartender standing behind his usual bar counter, looking intently and confidently at the two twins. Although single women don’t often stay here.

So it will be easier for you to remember, one of the cops said impatiently, while the other got up from the table.

I’ll look around here. I’ll be back, he said, putting his hand on the other’s shoulder and stepping aside, abruptly stopping, locking eyes with the girl who had come down the stairs.

She was horrified by what she saw, holding her breath, and froze.

Pulling herself together after a fraction of a second, the girl darted to the left, to the back door in the far part of the hall, deftly slipping past the guests dancing with drinks.

The policeman started to chase her, while the other, abruptly getting up from the chair, knocking it over, quickly ran through the main entrance outside.

The runaway was lucky that the back door opened outward. She crashed into it with her left shoulder, deftly flying out onto the street, startling a kissing couple, and darted to the left, around the corner, where a black retro car was parked. The policeman was already catching up with the girl. She vaulted over the car hood, ending up on its left side, quickly pulled out the keys from the inner pocket of her black jacket, and hurriedly began to unlock the driver’s side door. The pursuer didn’t keep her waiting long and tried to grab the girl, but she dodged, and opening the door, hit him with it, briefly throwing him off, then, bringing the door back to her, she hit it again with her foot, pushing the policeman, who was already gearing up for a new approach, knocking him off his feet.

Quickly getting into the car, the girl nervously started the engine, slamming the door shut and quickly locking it from the inside. Barely having time to insert the key into the ignition, the pursuer was upon her again, punching through the car window with his hand and grabbing her by the left shoulder, squeezing tightly. Leaning in the opposite direction, the girl reached into the glove compartment with her hand, pulling out a gun and immediately trying to shoot the attacker, but he dodged to the left, pulling the girl towards him and knocking her weapon to the ground with his free hand. The girl responded immediately, and with her free left hand, she punched the policeman in the nose, breaking his glasses. He lost his bearings, starting to hold his face, letting go of his grip. This was enough to start the engine and reverse at full speed. Discarding the broken glasses, the policeman jumped onto the girl’s car hood, but couldn’t hold on when she sharply turned right, throwing the enemy onto the asphalt, and briskly moved forward onto the road leading to the city.

A black car drove up to the policeman and stopped next to him. He got up, sat next to his partner, and placing a small police siren in front of him, turned it on. The car roared and set off in pursuit.

The police quickly caught up with the girl, crashing into the left side of her car. Cursing under her breath, she quickly fastened her seatbelt, trying to keep the car steady, but the police didn’t stop, ramming into the car, cutting her off.

Pretty quickly, the girl couldn’t handle the control, and the car flew off the road, breaking through the guardrail on the shoulder and falling from the bridge to the lower tier of the road, flipping several times in the process.

The girl came to, sitting in an interrogation room, her hands were behind her back, handcuffed to a chair, her legs were tied with straps. Her head was buzzing even worse than from a hangover. The girl hastily looked around, wincing at the unpleasant sensations accompanying her.

What a night, huh? the policeman with scratches around his nose entered the room enthusiastically and smiled at the girl with his venomously green eyes with protruding red vessels. I hope you had a good sleep. Dawn is coming soon. But not for you, of course.

I think I’ve gathered enough strength to give you a good hit, the girl retorted sarcastically, trying in vain to break free.

You can stop trying. We know your capabilities, the policeman said smugly.

I won’t even think about it, the girl grumbled, starting to shake the chair, still trying to break free.

You never learn, do you? Stubborn, the policeman smirked, approaching closer. Never compromise. Not even in the face of Armageddon.

The girl didn’t respond, persistently trying to free herself, writhing as much as possible.

Well, that’s enough. You’ll hurt yourself, the policeman giggled, approaching closely.

The girl suddenly lunged at him, trying to knock the chair over on him, but the policeman grabbed her, one hand on her arm, the other grabbing her neck, squeezing his cold hands tightly.

Well, I’ll enjoy putting you in your place, the policeman said maliciously, squeezing the girl’s neck harder.

Go ahead and try, she wheezed, spitting at him, hitting his left eye.

Setting the chair upright, the policeman let go of his grip and hit the girl in the face with his left palm. Involuntarily screaming, she couldn’t stay on the chair and fell to the left side.

Hey! What are you doing?! Forgot the rules? another policeman, who looked exactly like his partner, burst into the interrogation room.

She pissed me off, he said, wiping the girl’s spit off his face.

There’s a taser, you know, the other policeman sighed and shook his head, then looked at the lying girl, slightly leaning to the side. Get out of here. I’ll watch her.

Looking displeased at the lying captive, the cop snorted, furrowed his brows, and walked out. Another policeman immediately moved to lift the girl with the chair. As soon as he did, the girl pulled a gun from his holster, shooting him in the head through the chin.

The gunshot caught the attention of the cop who had just left, quickly returning with a taser in hand. The girl, managing to free only her right hand by dislocating her thumb, began to retrieve the handcuff key from the corpse, grimacing in pain and placing the gun on her legs. Having retrieved the key, she put it in her mouth, clenching it with her teeth, then took the gun and shot twice at the approaching policeman with the taser.

He, dodging the first time, fell in front of her with a bullet through his head, in the area of the bridge of his nose. There was movement behind the door — a clear panic of the other cops in the station. The girl hurriedly began to unfasten the handcuffs, but the key didn’t fit. Cursing under her breath, she shot the straps she was tied to the chair with, and taking the chair in her hands, remaining handcuffed to it with one left hand, began to look for the key from the other corpse, quickly finding it.

Then the door to the interrogation room opened and the girl quickly rushed there, putting the chair in front of her, legs forward, putting the key back in her mouth, clenching it with her teeth. At the entrance were several clones of the unfortunate policemen. Pouncing on one of them, the girl drove him back to the others with the chair, pressing them against each other, and the opposite wall, then, sharply stepping aside with the chair, moved to the right, down the free corridor to the window, jumping into it without hesitation, holding the chair in front of her.

Fortunately, it was only the second floor and the girl didn’t get serious injuries. It was already getting light and the police didn’t follow her onto the street. Breathing a sigh of relief, the girl got rid of the handcuffs and throwing the chair aside, ran to the exit, climbing over the station fence.

Some time later, when the morning was already playing with bright sunny colors, on Woodley Avenue, not far from the Japanese Garden, a young, not very tall girl in a black leather jacket, black t-shirt, black jeans, and black suede boots stood admiring the local beauty.

It’s nice here... there’s something to think about, a male voice said behind her.

Damn it! the girl exclaimed, turning around and sighing. On her right cheek, in the area of the cheekbones, she had a small bruise.

In front of her stood a balding middle-aged man with dark skin. His temples showed gray hair, and his greenish eyes looked as if they had seen too much.

Adjusting the collar of his brown coat, under which a black sweater was visible, he said, noticing her bruise, Had a wild night?

Ha! the girl exclaimed, then said seriously, Yes, actually.

Well, I was somewhat surprised by your call, but since it happened, I think we should discuss everything in a more comfortable place, the man suggested, rubbing his hands to warm up.

Yes, great, the girl replied, nodding.

You seem to have not changed since our last meeting, he said, approaching his old vintage dark-colored jeep.

Well, you, actually, too, the girl replied, following him, looking around.

Looking for someone? the man asked, noticing how she was looking around.

Uh... no, the girl replied, biting the right side of her lower lip, briefly raising her eyebrows. Not insisting, he got into the car, turned on the heater, and wiped the windshield while waiting. The girl sat in the back seat, right behind the man.

Who beat you up? That’s not easy to do, a light smirk slid across his face.

You’re making me blush, the girl replied with a slight smirk. I’m even embarrassed to admit it.

The more you intrigue. Spill it, scout’s honor no one will know, the man swore, putting his hand to his heart, starting the engine with his other hand.

A dead man, the girl replied, looking out the window.

Must have been a spry dead man. Were you hunting a necromancer? the man muttered, driving onto the road.

Yeah, the girl replied. There was a whole bunch of them there.

Yeah, not the most pleasant company. The last time I encountered them, they locked us in a cemetery without weapons, and it was like Night of the Living Dead, the man nostalgically smiled.

Creepy, the girl replied, grimacing.

So what brought you to Los Angeles? he finally asked, posing the main question that had been on his mind since the call.

As you rightly noticed, I’m hunting a necromancer. Wanted to slip into town under the New Year’s noise and stay unnoticed. Bummer, the girl replied, sighing afterward.

What kind of necromancer? Is he local or did he also drop in for a visit? the man asked, driving down South Broadway.

He settled here about a year ago, the girl replied, continuing to look out the window.

Strange that my guys don’t know anything about him. Necromancers are not the most secretive people, the man mused, pondering this news.

Oh, this one is special, believe me, the girl said discontentedly.

Did I get it right or do you have as long a history with him as his stay here?

You could say that, the girl replied, stretching out the words.

Hmm... the man pondered, stopping the car at a small gray building on Maple Street, standing among many private houses. The garage door rose up and slowly closed when the car drove inside, and a dim light bulb lit up the garage. Protective signs against magic invasion were drawn on the inside of the door, walls, and ceiling.

One of the shelters. It’s quiet here, he said, getting out of the car.

Yes, I see, the girl replied, following him out.

Further from the parking spaces, a living area was equipped: several greenish sofas, a rug, a gray worn-out refrigerator, a table, and several chairs. A city map hung on the wall and a communication console. A little further there was a door to the restroom and an arsenal at the far wall under a code lock.

Make yourself comfortable, darling, want anything? the man offered, approaching the refrigerator.

Yes, water, the girl replied, collapsing on one of the sofas, relievedly throwing her head back.

Well, now give me all the information. You’re not a rookie. And when someone calls me, it means trouble, he said, handing her a bottle of water, sitting opposite her, drilling her with his gaze.

Taking the water, the girl quickly drank about half, then sighed with relief again, reclining on the sofa, saying after a short time, You’re exaggerating. I was locked up in a police station north of Hollywood, where these zombies settled. And that’s where my gear stayed. I’m not as cool as you to rush at them with bare hands.

When you’re cornered, you start to understand what non-obvious things can become weapons, the man sighed, then rubbed his face. Is that all I need to know?

He asked her, looking intently into her eyes.

What else is there to know?! Zombies are zombies, the girl replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Good. Let’s pay a visit to your zombies, the man nodded affirmatively.

Are you trying to impose your help on me? the girl smirked, sitting on the edge of the sofa. You know, I can handle it myself. I’ll just need a couple of toys from your arsenal.

No doubt you’ll cope, but since you found me, it would be a sin to refuse support.

That’s true. Like old times, huh? the girl said nostalgically, smiling.

True times when I didn’t have gray hair yet and life seemed much simpler, the man smiled, approaching the arsenal, entering the combination, and slightly opening the door.

Inside, there were melee weapons, as well as firearms: pistols, shotguns, and other attributes of a supernatural hunter.

Gray hair is a sign of experience, the girl smirked, rushing into the arsenal past the man.

And it’s also a sign that you’re getting old, he muttered, taking a shotgun and a bandolier for it.

Are you self-conscious? the girl smirked, choosing a suitable shotgun.

I’m a realist, darling. Time takes its toll: reaction, endurance, strength - everything is not the same, the man replied, securing the cartridges on the band and hanging them over his shoulder. The girl, without saying anything, meanwhile picked up a shotgun, hung it over her shoulder, and threw several bandoliers into the bag, then began to choose a machine gun.

So you’ve decided after all, said a man in black clothes: a cloak, pants, and shoes, standing in the darkness of the parking area. He looked at the open trunk of the girl’s black car, where there was a bunch of weapons and other attributes of a supernatural hunter. The man held a small dagger with a gilded handle in his hands, looking at it, he cut his palm, which began to be covered with black vessels around the wound.

Stay here. She will return for her toys. You can hurt her, but I need her alive, the man said surrounded by similar to each other policemen.

Later in the day, the couple drove up to the police station from which the girl had escaped.

That's it, we go in through the fire escape, not the main entrance, the girl said, closely watching the two-story police station building with a corner turret, where nothing could be seen through the windows, as they were closed with blinds, through which light faintly flickered.

That would be reckless, the man confirmed, after looking at her, he said, What’s the plan?

I suggest we enter through the fire escape and start clearing from the top floor. They won’t come out during the day anyway, the girl replied.

Lead the way then, the man nodded affirmatively, checking his shotgun.

Well, let’s go, the girl replied, getting out of the car, moving to the parking spaces of police cars, passing by the barrier and the vacant control booth to the visible staircase.

There, against the wall of the precinct, lay a metal chair and handcuffs