Epoch

Chapter 1

"Crimson, you look worried."

I glance back at my sister, Cadmium, as she steps out of the car. I give a glance up to the sky. The clouds are gray, swollen with the threat of oncoming rain. A few drops land around us. It's chilly enough that the slightest brush of the breeze against my back sends chills down my spine. My gaze lands back on Cadmium, leaned on the hood of my car, hands jammed in her pockets in an attempt to warm them. She's peering at me with round eyes, quizzical, probably wondering if I'm alright. I stare right back at her, my gaze more challenging than responsive. 

"Crim, you're not nervous, are you?" A smirk that's all too Cadmium crosses her features. "I'd never think that my stoic, workaholic of a brother would be scared."

"No, no." I brush black-brown hair out of my face. "I'm-I'm not scared. I'm fine. I just don't..."

I trail off, diverting my gaze to the ground. This isn't my first hunt. I shouldn't be nervous, but there's this clawing feeling in my stomach that's desperate to be noticed. To be taken into account. I try to shove the feeling back down, but it rears its ugly head and smacks it into my side. I wipe my damp palms on my pants in an attempt to dry them, hoping that Cadmium doesn't notice. 

"Run me over the details again, will you? Don't wanna mess up a second time." Cadmium says as she raises her eyebrows at me. It's a blatant diversion. I know that she's read over the case file just around three dozen times, and this is just a way to try and calm me down. I appreciate the effort, I really do, but I doubt that It'll work this time. She repeats the question a second time, and if I didn't know her, she'd look like she were talking straight to the air. She's fiddling with her earpiece again, curling the black wire over her index finger. It's a nervous habit of hers. I let out a huff, pausing as my breath floats away in a cloud of vaporous white.

"We're looking for a Demesne. The type of Aberrant with the dominion effect, human puppetry, that type of shit. Around 5'10", black hair, glasses..." She isn't paying attention.

"Let's go. No point in wasting time." I give her a glance, which she returns skeptically, and we amble towards the bar in front of us. It's a small brick building with an obnoxiously bright pink neon sign in front of its shabby tin roof. The lights flicker on and off in unpredictable intervals, which makes it hard for me to make out the words. Cadmium raises her hand to the iron knob of the door, which is painted black, and twists it. There's a screech of protest from the iron bars across the frame in front of it. One almost falls off.

"Don't trip up this time." I mutter, eyes half-lidded. She lets out a dry laugh.

"I don't plan to."

Immediately I'm flooded with warmth. Noises from inside rush to find their way past me. I'm surprised that you can't hear anything from the outside.

Inside it's mild, lit with a multitude of warmly-toned lamps and ceiling inset lights. The faint smell of alcohol wafts into my nose. I let out a harsh breath at the strong scent.

It's a club. Populated. Loud.

Also known as my least favorite type of place.

"Deep breath, Crim." Cadmium whispers from next to me as she steps in. My steps are awkward. Jerky.

There's people everywhere here. All different shapes and sizes, all screeching and finding some way to be a complete nuisance. It's not like they have anything better to do. When the government has retreated into a recluse-like status, the economy is crumbling, and the unemployment rate is rising almost as quickly as the oceans around us, there really isn't much to do other than accept your unchangeable fate and go out partying. Or drinking. We aren't very picky.