Narky: Alright, so December came first. Consider this an early Christmas present.

Lunchtime, the time Liz hated most. She shuffled murderously into the cafeteria, cringing with disgust the second she passed through the doorway. In actuality, it wasn’t disgust, but pain, but an onlooker would not have known this. Kids were laughing louder and more animatedly than they needed too, and screaming across the room at each other. Liz bounced up and down uncomfortably as she stood line for cafeteria food. The students in front of her began to get antsy, glancing back at her every few seconds, fearful she would strike. Finally, it was her turn, and she grabbed a slice of pizza and a coke. The perk about her school was that they sold food and beverages students actually liked, except Tuesdays and Thursdays, when health food was sold. Quickly, she rushed outdoors, into the picnic area of the school, where she claimed the same table she always claimed. She had even carved her name into the wood to let others know it was her territory. As she sat, waiting for her three companions, a trio of new kids to the school walked by. When they spotted her, they began hissing to each other about all the rumors they had heard, and asked each other if anyone saw a tail. Grinning coldly, she leapt at them like lightning, hissing.

“Fuck off children, I’ve heard it all. I don’t have a tail.” They yelped and ran, her laughter following them like a Hell Hound. Sitting back down, she sighed, and thought about all they’d said. It was a popular rumor in school that Liz had demon’s blood in her, although the stories of how it got into her family were all different, and there were many. Some said she was only had a small trace of demon blood, and that one of the werewolves from the Demon World had snuck through the barrier, which was a common occurrence, and bred with one of her ancestors. Another story was that her parents were both from the Demon World, but one was human. Another followed the same idea, but that she was a full demon. None were true. As far as she knew, she was human.

On the other end of the school building, Liz’s friends were quickly gathering up their things, giggling and talking. They would force their belongings in their tiny metal lockers, and rush outside to the picnic tables, to meet their psychotic comrade. With this in mind, they eagerly rushed out of the room, stomachs snarling for satisfaction. For several minutes the room stood silent, and supposedly empty, before an entity stepped out from behind the national flag. He had fair skin and black, spiked hair. At first glance, he looked like an average, young human man. But on closer inspection, his eyes were too dark, and his spine was too ridged. His hands were stout and the palms were calloused like the pads on a dog’s or cat’s paws. His fingers ended with sharp white claws, that slowly slide out, then in, then out, then in, as he stood and looked around the room. His eyes were amber-crimson, with traces of apple green. They scanned the room as a hunter would scan his surroundings for prey, and let out a pleased growl when no one was seen. To the students, this creature was called Mr. Ace, and to them, he looked completely human, albeit a human with an anger issue. To his family, he was Chigaru, a man with an eye for small details that made him a skilled hunter and fighter. A louder growl fell from his throat as he lit five candles set in a circle, and watched the flames lick his weathered fingers. The candle flames flashed green for an instant, letting out sparks into the air. One of these flew onto the flag, and it was illuminated in flames. He paid no heed, not seeming to notice, until a voice from behind broke him from his trance.

“You called?” it spoke softly, the tone warm and comforting.

“Aye, I did,” Chigaru’s growl answered, harsher than the visitor’s voice, “I found the little mutt.”

“Well that’s lovely news, now, let’s grab her and go.”

“We can’t, her friends would wonder. We have to wait until she’s on her own. It will be easier to cover our tracks that way,” he turned to face his gentle voiced visitor, looking firmly into the blonde man’s amber eyes.

“Alright, we’ll follow her home,” the blonde one answered, not surprised in the least to hear that their subject of conversation had friends. Chigaru nodded silently.

“Yes, we’re bound to catch her alone then.” They clasped hands and shook, before the blonde turned away. At the door he turned and smiled.

“Your flag is on fire.” With that the blonde vanished out the door, laughing hysterically. In the hall Chigaru could be heard cursing and stomping out the fire.

The bell rang, signaling the end to lunch, much to Liz’s satisfaction. Only two classes more, she thought, and I’m home free. They traipsed into Social Studies class, and took their seats. Settling into her seat in the back, Liz’s forest green eyes caught sight of the smoldering flag, hanging by a few threads to its brass pole. Her cunning orbs shot to the teacher, Mr. Ace, and took in his disgruntled self. His white dress shirt was covered with black smoke residue, and charred around the sleeves, which he had rolled up to his elbows. He had his feet crossed on the teacher’s desk, and he was scowling into space. The tread pattern on his steel toed boots was melted in places, and his black pants were burnt. Somebody’s a pyro, she thought, smirking. She leaned over and tapped Saphire’s arm, breaking her eyes away from the abused flag. She nodded towards the man up front, and when Saphire saw him, she burst into giggles, which forced a few snickers out of Liz. The substitute’s eyes snapped towards them, slicing into their souls with icy precision. The look in the two dark pools said very clearly ‘don’t mess with me’. They quieted down, but Liz returned his stare with her own scowl. He rolled his eyes away and dragged his feet off the desk, hauling himself to his feet. At his full height, he demanded the full attention of everyone in the class, all of whom had been gaping at the burnt remains of their country’s flag. Their eyes traveled towards their temporary teacher, and most put two and two together. Carlotta began to whine.

“Mr. Ace, what did you do? Why did you burn the flag? Do you hate Canada? Are you a terrorist!” the last part was screeched in panic, and a few other students yelped in fright. Liz rolled her eyes, but kept quiet. A lot of kids were now laughing.

“The Prince would not allow a terrorist to sub here, you idiot,” Lewis sneered at Carlotta, and the rest of the guys laughed. Carlotta flipped him the bird.

“The Prince let’s Liz attend school here. A terrorist is far less dangerous than her.” The ‘Prince’ was the principal, a very young man who had inherited the title of Principal from his father, hence the nickname ‘Prince’. Liz snickered at Carlotta’s statement, reliving several times that she had spoken to the Prince. He was such a naïve man, certain that she was kind deep down. No, she was a violent, anti-social, thieving bitch.

‘And soon you will be exactly where you belong’

Liz jerked with confusion at those strange telepathic words. They were icy and sinister in a way that made even her hard shell quiver.