“Because it is an absolute, immutable fact that Han shot first!”

Hannah was leaning forward on a sofa, staring at Jack with her hands braced on her knees. Afternoon sun blazed through the net curtains, illuminating the dust in the air; there was a penetrating smell of stale coffee, and Jack’s ancient laptop wheezed like a smoker running a marathon.

He gaped at her, his open mouth twisted in affront. “Huh? So are you telling me that you, a nineteen year old who wasn’t even alive when Episode one came out, sat there and freeze-framed the movie, just to figure out who actually fired the first shot? Give me a break.”

Flaring her nostrils, she said, “don’t be ageist. Why can’t a nineteen year old have the time and will to analyse the individual frames of a film?”

He wagged his finger. “Don’t think you can fool me. Teenagers have better things to do, like going out with their mates or, I dunno, playing trading card games.”

She gave him a flat gaze. “That’s more of an adult hobby, you know.” Though, it had been fun watching Lydia play that Future Magic-whatever-it-was with Gamey. She had wondered about asking her to teach her.

It was a shame she despised Hannah’s very existence.

Shaking his head, Jack rubbed his beard. “Just what is the world coming to?”

“A bunch of venues in dire need of a deodorant bomb?”

“Careful what you say,” said Jack, reaching for his mug. “We don’t wanna piss off the incel movement.”

She furrowed her brow. “Aren’t those exactly the kind of people we wanna piss off?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve just been winging it.”

“Then you can’t tell me to be careful! And besides, I never had any friends so I spent all my time visiting other worlds.”

“Don’t just snap back to the point!” Her eyes drooped, and he gulped. Looking away, he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

She sprung up, planting her hands on the table and putting her face next to his. He balked. She said, “don’t be sorry for me, I finally took the first step on my journey; now, I feel like I can defeat any evil with the power of kindness!”

Pushing himself into the back of the couch, he wiggled to the other side, away from her. “This isn’t Shonen Junp, y’know. It’s less ‘friendship, hard work, victory’ and more ‘hard work, deadly work, getting yelled at about rent’.”

She cocked her head. He was avoiding her gaze, sweat forming around his neck. He was uncomfortable. Was it something she’d done? Did she get too close? Should she ask?

His lips were even pressed together, like he’d spilled some precious secret.

Wait.

Eying him quizzically, she said, “if you can’t afford your rent, then how are you gonna pay me?”

His eyes widened to saucers, his jaw cycling. “That’s nothing you need to worry about, I’ve got it all under control.”

She narrowed her eyes. “In that case, when are you gonna pay me?”

Chuckling nervously, he waved his hands before himself. “Well, it’s, uh, two weeks in hand, so five weeks?”

She folded her arms. So far, it had been nothing but a week of stupid conversations and Jack trying to convince her to modify her parasol to a machine gun. The most exciting occurrence had been a diary he’d found in a language neither of them could read.

It was still bothering her. “Come to think of it, how often do you even get work?”

He sighed. “It’s like this sometimes. You can go, if you want; I’ll call you if we get anything.”

“No, I think I’ll stay.”

Folding his arms, he stared a hole through her. “I won’t be able to pay you for this time.”

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t like she was there for the money, anyway. She just needed to frame it in a way that her mum would accept.

That said, she was starting to doubt herself; was he really as awesome as she’d first thought? She didn’t know.

On one hand was the way he had handled the New Bloods, saving humans and vampires alike while putting an end to their boss. It had been inspiring.

On the other hand was the state of his office: the peeling wallpaper looked like it had been there since the room was built, and the wastebasket next to his desk overflowed with torn scraps of betting paper.

The cupboards were full of booze, and empties filled a green box next to the door.

What’s more, he clearly lived there. Sometimes, he would leave one of the two doors next to the kitchenette ajar, revealing a single bed in a tiny room.

She didn’t know what to make of it.

But then again, she was a human-turned-vampire who coloured even the clothes she wore monochrome, so everything was relative.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Suddenly, a thumping downstairs snapped her from her reverie. She eyed Jack. “Is that the front door?”

Licking his teeth, he nodded. “Did your mum say anything about coming?”

She felt her insides cringe. “What? No. Why would she do that?”

“My voicemail is full to bursting just from her messages.”

Seriously? Her mum had always been the overprotective sort, the kind who was thrilled that she decided to spend all her time holed up in her room. It meant less exposure to danger.

Her mum was also a complete crackpot, who accidentally ate the wrong kind of mushroom on a camping trip once and became convinced she was clairvoyant.

It was possible.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, hanging her head.

A clomping sound ascended in volume and rhythm, and Jack sprung from his seat. Grabbing the sword leaning against his desk, he stepped forward, taking his stance a few feet from the door.

Thump.

It swung open.

That definitely wasn’t her mum.

Jack’s eyes went wide, his jaw slack as he unsheathed his sword. “Begone, foul demon!”

Charging forward, he raised his blade and let out a primal war cry.

His face hit the ground.

Every part of him was being depressed into the floor; it was a toss-up which would splinter first, the boards or his bones. “Why?” he croaked.

“Isn’t that my line?” said Lydia, sneering. “Is this how you usually treat visitors?”

Groaning and gasping and grunting, he raised his head to snarl at her. “Visitors usually have the common courtesy to knock!”

She harrumphed. “You should feel honoured that I’m gracing you with my presence.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m so honoured, now get out of here!”

She brought her foot down on his head, grinding it back into the hardwood. “You don’t sound very sincere.”

“That’s because I’m not! Agh!”

Hannah suppressed a gasp. She had to keep quiet: Lydia could disintegrate her with a wave of her hand, and all she needed was an excuse.

Her gut twisted. Glowering at Lydia, she said, “get off him. What did you even come here for?”

“I see you kept the vampire.” Releasing her hold on Jack, she stepped towards Hannah.

He clambered to his feet and put a hand on her shoulder. “If that’s such a problem, maybe you should go home.”

She smirked. “No, there’s no problem.”

“Then like she said, what are you doing here?”

“I came to accompany you.”

His jaw shattered the floorboards. “Uh, where?”

She shrugged. “Wherever it is you’re going.”

Jack and Hannah exchanged gazes, their mouths set to lines. Then, they burst out laughing as one, clutching their stomachs and struggling not to fall over.

Lydia pursed her lips. “What’s so funny?”

Wiping away a tear, Hannah said, “welcome to the road to nowhere.”

“Get in the camper van,” said Jack, shaking his head with a smile.

Lydia’s brow merged. “What do you mean? I thought you were some sort of hero, dedicated to protecting this city.”

Unable to contain himself, Jack creased to the ground, his bellowing laughter rolling across the room. “What… what do you think this is, Marvel?”

“Well, that’s what it says in the summary.”

“‘What if the Dark Lord won?’ asked Brandon, before spending a full novel showing that he was just another tyrant.”

She stared at him.

“What kind of hero takes a fee, anyway?”

She shrugged. “The kind with good business sense?”

“I’m sorry, are you accusing me of being a capitalist?”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, don’t get me started.”

Her stomach dropping, Hannah waved her hands. “No, seriously, don’t.”

“Better yet,” said Jack, “you could always go home.”

“Hmph,” she said, throwing herself into the seat Jack had vacated.

Clenching his jaw, he exhaled. “Get off my sofa! Don’t you have a huge estate, or something? Why don’t you go accompany the gardeners?”

She picked up a piece of paper from the table, scrutinising it. “Here seems more interesting. Also, what is a Dragula?”

Leaning forward, Hannah smiled. “Our Lord and saviour.”

She made a curious face. “Is that so?”

Growling, he gripped his temples. “Who cares? Do the missionary thing outside, I don’t want you here!”

“I prefer doggy, actually. Top, of course.”

“No-one on this planet needed to know that.”

“I think she should stay,” said Hannah.

“Of course you do, she’s showing interest in your Lord and saviour!”

She frowned, but didn’t say anything. She understood Lydia’s reasons; it was the same as her. Explaining, though, could prove troublesome.

Lydia returned the flyer to its place, instead picking up a thin black book covered in foreign script. “What’s this?”

“Christ knows,” said Jack. “Found it on the beach.”

“How does a book survive the beach?”

“It was in a waterproof bag.” He made a face. “What were you expecting?”

“Something magic. This is ordinarily the part of the chapter when something exciting starts to happen, to build up to the cliffhanger. It’s only natural.”

Jack sighed. “Look, I don’t even know what it is. It’s in Chinese, or Japanese, one of those ones with the complicated symbols.”

“Uh, that describes a lot of languages,” said Hannah.

“It’s Japanese,” said Lydia, flipping the cover open. “And it’s a diary.”

His eyes bulging, Jack tottered over. “You can read it?”

She narrowed an eye. “Are you telling me you can’t read Japanese?”

With a flat stare, he said, “no!”

Smiling, she looked between them. “You want me to read it?”

“Yes!” Hannah’s reply was instant.

Jack parked himself next to Hannah, on the edge of his seat. “I take back everything I just said.”

“Okay then,” she said.

***

May 19th, 2005

Dear diery,

my naem is mika, and im 4 years old. i will b start skool soon. one day i will be policewoman and-

***

Jack glowered at her. “What the hell is this?”

Nodding, Hannah said, “did you really have to translate the bad grammar?”

Huffing, Lydia said, “it’s for flavour! How are readers supposed to get a taste for the character’s unique voice if-”

Jack threw his arms up. “The only unique thing about that is the way it burns your eyes; think of our readers, dammit!”

She squinted. “I don’t think I like your tone.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like your personality!”

Tittering, Hannah waved them down. “Maybe you should just keep reading… from where it becomes legible, preferably.”

“Fine,” said Lydia.

***

November 23rd, 2017

The time is now.

My entire life, from the beginning of this diary, has led to this moment.

All the heartbreak - the loss of Acchan, my father’s sudden illness, and society’s general disapproval towards independent women - has been for today.

We have a plan, but plans never really work. It’s time for a free-for-all.

The war to end all wars. A skirmish of epic proportions.

Delinquents vs detectives.

And mark my words, we’ll make those bastard lawmen pay.

***

Wailing, Jack cradled his face. “But why?! I thought she was aiming to be a police officer; how did that lead to being a delinquent? And why are they at war? You skipped too much!”

“Also,” said Hannah, finger on her chin, “who in Dragula’s name is Acchan?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions.”

Lydia slammed the book shut. “You told me to start from where it’s legible.”

Hannah’s muscles went slack. “You mean this girl didn’t understand grammar until she was sixteen?”

“Might have been seventeen,” said Jack.

“Uh, nobody cares.”

“Besides that, why did you shut it? I wanna know how the battle goes.”

“We’re out of words,” said Lydia, folding her arms. “We’ll have to carry on tomorrow.”

Jack glowered at her. “There is no maximum; you can’t just arbitrarily decide to end a chapter!”

She cleared her throat. “What happens in Mika’s fateful battle with the detectives? Find out tomorrow.”

“Tell us now!”