The Shadow of a Doubt
Nicole The Sociopath (2008)
In a world where every new school felt like an unmarked level, Nicole was a seasoned pro. After facing hardship time and again with each move from one school to another, she learned the hard way that people were either books to be read, puzzles to be solved, or pawns to be manipulated. But when MS-13, a ruthless criminal organization, threatens the fragile peace of her high school life in Burke, Virginia. Nicole doesn’t just step up to the challenge—she becomes the boss fight they never saw coming. Using her sharp wit, street-smart tactics, and an arsenal of unexpected allies, she sets out to dismantle the gang, taking them down one move at a time. Or does she full intend to rule with chaotic anarchy and prove all those who’ve wronged her? Victory? It's the only option for her.
In her world, compromise does not exist. Every step meets the risk.
A/N - A what-if fanfic that is a mirror of SEGA’s dark era videogame, Shadow the Hedgehog (2005).
I Am (All of Me) - Shadow the Hedgehog (2005) / (NatewantstoBattle Cover)
9:27AM - November 5th | Theatre
Theatre Class: where starry-eyed drama kids come in dreaming of an HBO debut, only to discover the harsh reality hidden behind the spotlight. Their aspirations are ground to dust under the weight of grueling training, endless vocal warm-ups, and monotonous routines. The once-glamorous stage becomes a battlefield of existential crises, where even the absurd notion of hanging from the rafters or being flattened by a cardboard set piece starts to sound weirdly appealing.
Nicole never cared for being the star of the show. Sure, she could steal the spotlight when she wanted. Usually as a calculated move to put someone in their place, but it was never about craving attention. It wasn’t stage fright holding her back either. For Nicole, it was all about balance. Too much popularity meant dealing with overbearing attention seekers, desperate for her approval or worse, propositions she had no interest in entertaining, like having sex with a persistent sex pest.
On the flip side, being too unpopular was just as bad. It left you out of the loop, stuck on the fringes where social awkwardness made you invisible, or worse, where being too smart became a liability—your intelligence a threat that made everyone else feel small.
You can’t be too popular.
You can’t be too unpopular.
If you strike the perfect balance, you’ll never risk being left out of the loop or dragged into the spotlight.
On stage, the drama kids were deep in rehearsals for The Nutcracker, set to debut in December. Meanwhile, the rest of the class, those with zero interest in this theatrical spiel sat slouched in their seats, begrudgingly enduring the spectacle. The goal was simple: feign polite engagement and avoid setting off Megan, their overly ambitious chaperone, who had a hair-trigger temper and a penchant for dramatics herself.
“For fuck’s sake, can’t they just give everyone on stage a role where they off themselves? Maybe then my eardrums wouldn’t be assaulted every time someone tanks a high C,” Nicole muttered, one leg crossed lazily over the other as she lounged in a fourth-row recliner. She'd kill for Jecka to be here. At least she could pretend to care about Smallville for two hours, keeping the conversation on some semblance of normalcy. But, of course, here she was, stuck with a crowd of idiots who couldn’t string together a sentence without tripping over their own lack of creativity. It was like they’d never heard of a joke that didn’t involve racism or something ripped straight from the depths of South Park—and she was so over it.
“Yo, Nicole! It’s great to see that you’re here to watch us perform n’ stuff!” Said the airheaded boy known as Crispin. Despite her new kid grace period being long over, he’s been overly nice to her since. Though, Nicole knew better, his ulterior motives.
“Make sure to give a great performance on breaking your neck, and I’ll find it amazing.” Nicole leaned back, elbow casually propped on the recliner arm, chin resting in her palm like she couldn’t care less. Her eyes didn’t bother with Crispin, not even for a second.
“Whoa, what the fuck? That’s wild.”
“Shut the fuck up and die.” That was all it took for him to skedaddle, “W-Well, I’ll see ya later then!” Just like that, he flipped back to his obnoxiously cheerful self. Nicole couldn’t even begin to fathom what was happening in that peanut-sized brain of his. Unfortunately, it wasn't the end of what she had to experience.
Megan’s commanding tone had a sharp edge to it as she pushed her peers around, treating the classroom like it was her own personal set. She barked at them like they were soldiers, expecting immediate obedience without question. The power trip was evident in the way she strutted across the room, her confidence bordering on arrogance, as if she held the keys to everyone’s success—or failure. It wasn’t surprising that Nicole’s patience was wearing thin. Megan’s authority was relentless, and to Nicole, the whole situation felt more like a power struggle than an acting class.
Nicole glanced at the empty desk where Mrs. Teagan should have been, and a sense of irritation bubbled up. “When will Mrs. Teagan ever be back?” she muttered under her breath. Mrs. Teagan’s absence meant Megan had free reign to take over, and with her self-appointed role as the 'leader,' it felt like a never-ending charade. Nicole couldn’t help but feel the absurdity of the situation.
She slid out of her seat with a sigh, slinging her bag over her shoulder in a gesture of defiance. Emily trailed behind her, the two of them sharing an unspoken connection—both equally uninterested in the so-called acting session. Nicole’s frustration simmered as she climbed onto the stage, her shoes tapping against the steps as though the sound of her movements was a statement in itself.
Once on stage, she let out a heavy breath, already rolling her eyes in exasperation. “This is so stupid. None of these kids are gonna hit it big,” she remarked, loud enough for anyone to hear, her voice laced with a blend of cynicism and boredom. To her, acting wasn’t some ticket to fame; it was just a distraction, a shallow attempt at making something out of nothing. In Nicole's eyes, everyone here was just a small part of a larger system that chewed people up and spit them out, the 'star' dreams nothing more than fantasies. "Just filled with broken dreams and crushed hopes," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Emily chuckled darkly, her voice matching the sentiment as she followed Nicole onto the stage. "Right? Who would wanna be an actor with a pelican nose like Johnny Colt?" Emily’s quip was sharp and delivered with a knowing smirk, the humor unrefined but perfect for the moment. The two of them shared a quick laugh, the absurdity of it all easing the tension between them. Johnny Colt’s unfortunate nose was just another detail in the grand joke they were making of the whole performance. It was one of those things you couldn't unsee once you noticed it.
And then, there was Megan. She had overheard their comments, but it didn’t faze her. "Unfortunately, Megan doesn't give a fuck," Nicole thought, her eyes narrowing at the thought. Megan would never understand the point of view Nicole and Emily had, but they didn’t care. Their world was one of dry humor and blunt truth—no space for pretentiousness or delusions of grandeur.
-
Ten minutes later..
-
“Nicole, I would appreciate it if you would get more into character otherwise your grade will end up in the gutter,” Megan then muttered, “though, it’s already repulsive as is..” Nicole rolled her eyes, “This script is ass, I’m not reading this shit.”
“It’s not ass, I wrote it.”
“Bitch, this is major ass.”
“It’s pretty ass.” Emily chimed in who was also forced to do a table reading for the script that Megan typed up. The script itself was on par with poorly made fanfiction with too much inspiration from Shakespeare.
A wall of text is enough to make anyone fall asleep.
“It’s J-Lo after her second kid ass.”
“Like you could write a better script.” Megan huffed, folding her arms close to her chest.
“Than this?” Nicole waved the paper in front of her proctor, “Sure, I can.”
“About what?”
“About..” She patted her hair a bit, “A girl who’s super power is all her insides are poisonous. So if a guy molests her his eyes will melt out of his head and he dies in a slow grueling pain.”
“So then he can’t deny it, damn that’s good.” Emily included.
“Why wouldn’t you just make it so her super power avoids getting molested altogether?” Megan retorted.
“Who the fuck would wanna watch that? Her superpower is that nothing happens in her life. An extremely boring sitcom. Wow great movie idea, surely no one thought of it.” Nicole mocked Megan, responding with one hand on her hip. The sarcasm was drenched at this point. Megan rolled her eyes.
“Can you just keep reading? It’s for a grade.” Emily sighed, “Whatever.. My heart beats to love, not fight..” Fed up with the script again, she broke out of character, “Who the fuck is this for?”
“It’s like one of those anime cartoons Jeffrey enjoys to watch.”
“Who?” Emily said with a raised eyebrow.
“He’s the weird kid with the glasses who draws pictures of girls he has crushes on.”
“Oh he would like shit like that.”
“Guys? I’m right here.” Megan said, rather annoyed.
“We know.” Nicole said blankly.
“Can you get back to reading? I gotta grade your acting.”
“Oh my god..” Nicole straightened her voice, though she stammered slightly. Not out of nervousness, but cringing at the article she was forced to read. “Your.. Your heart beats to march, cadet.. Hut one, two, three, four. Hut, one, two, three, four.”
“Uh, Nicole.” Megan said to Nicole.
“What I’m reading aren’t I?”
“It’s like a drill sergeant. You read it like one, two, three, four.” She proceeded to march in front of the two girls, staying consistently in character as a drill sergeant. She tried to imitate a burly, serious voice despite her voicebox. When she was done, Nicole looked like she had enough.
“Do I remotely look like I’m even in the same universe of giving a shit as you?” She said rather rudely.
“Besides we’re the ones acting. Creative liberty.” Emily added.
“Exactly,” Nicole confirmed. “You should be giving us some credit where it’s due.”
Megan ruffled her hair with rising frustration creeping into her voice, “Whatever, keep going.”
“How can you march for someone else’s death? I’ll march this foot up your ass, ho.” Emily read.
“That’s not what I wrote!” Megan’s teeth gritted.
“Creative liberty.” Nicole stated.
“Acting doesn’t work like that.” Megan stated, wagging her index finger.
“You literally said acting’s about creativity.” Emily added to Nicole’s prior statement.
“Yeah,” Nicole followed up. “So is it about looks again? Maybe we should teach the class.”
“F for the day!” Megan stormed off, trying to keep the meltdown at bay. Her knuckles were already turning white, veins straining like they might just snap if she stayed much longer.
“She’s such a bitch.” Emily couldn’t help but throw in a remark.
“Yeah, she really is.”
-
4:03 PM. November 5th, 2008 | Home
The TV flickered in the corner of the room, playing Barack Obama’s inauguration for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Nicole slumped deeper into the couch, picking at the loose threads of her ponytail, the droning voice of the newscaster blending into white noise. Now that a Democrat was in office, the world seemed obsessed with debating whether a Black man could manage to run a country as “good” as any of the powdered-wigged white dudes who came before him. Although, politics had never exactly made her list of priorities. Presidents came and went, but the world stayed just as trash as always.
She flipped the channel, and there it was, the same story that always seemed to haunt the late-night news: some Zodiac Killer wannabe had been carving up young women again, leaving their bodies on the street like morbid postcards. Each one came with some cryptic, hand-scrawled note that was probably meant to sound like Nietzsche but read more like a Hot Topic clearance shirt.
Sure, it was terrifying if you let yourself think about it—like, really think about it—but Nicole was pretty sure she wasn’t the kind of girl serial killers bothered with. She wasn’t blonde, didn’t jog at night, and wasn’t naïve enough to fall for a “lost puppy” story. Still, the idea lingered in the back of her mind in case she needed to escape an authority figure.
Another channel, another tragedy. This time, a black boy from PG County caught in the crossfire of some gang shootout. A stray bullet, an innocent kid, and a city that barely blinked. Nicole let out a slow sigh, rubbing her temples. People die all the time, but it gets exhausting after once in a while.
The next channel landed on a heartwarming story about a war veteran reuniting with his golden retriever. The old man cried. The dog wagged its tail like it was about to fly off. It was the kind of thing that could make most people tear up, but Nicole just rolled her eyes.
“Heartfelt if you’ve got feelings,” she said to no one in particular, clicking the remote’s power button again to turn the TV off. “Now what? Should I cut my wrists and rest in the bathtub to reminisce about my mom being mean to me or should I test the rope in my closet again to see if the rope isn’t weak enough to snap under my weight? Decisions, decisions..”
BOOM
“What the fuck?” Nicole bolted through the kitchen, barely putting on her shoes, skidding slightly on the linoleum floor as she unlocked the back door with shaky fingers. The cool November air hit her like a slap as she stepped out, but it wasn’t the chill that stopped her dead in her tracks, it was the mess her backyard had become. It looked like someone had hosted a medieval war reenactment with live ammunition.
Nicole stepped closer, heart hammering in her chest—not with fear, but with a strange kind of curiosity. “What the hell happened here?” She flipped her Sidekick open with a snap, the pale glow of the screen illuminating her smirk. If this was some kind of cosmic joke, she was going to record every second of it and get famous off of it.
As she edged toward the largest crater, the faint crunch of dead grass and soil under her boots was the only sound. Her breath hitched when she peered over the edge. It wasn’t as deep as she thought, but sitting right in the center was… something.
The object wasn’t much bigger than a bowling ball, smooth and metallic, glinting faintly under the overcast sky. It was black, but not just black! It seemed to absorb the light around it in a red hue, making it look almost like a blackhole punched through reality itself. Her brain tried to rationalize it, pin it down as a weird art project or some freak accident involving a construction site, but none of it stuck.
Her fingers hovered over the sidekick’s keypad, recording the jagged edges of the crater and the ominous little sphere at its heart. “Small enough to pick up,” she said to herself, almost absently, her eyes narrowing as she slid down the crater for a better look.
A faint hum began to vibrate through the air, so low it was almost imperceptible, but Nicole felt it deep in her chest, like the bassline of a song she couldn’t hear. She bit her lip, the beginnings of a grin curling at the corner of her mouth. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t from around here.
And for some reason she couldn’t quite explain, the thought thrilled her.
“I wonder if it tastes good,” Nicole muttered under her breath, the corner of her mouth twitching with a smirk. Against every shred of common sense she had left—which, admittedly, wasn’t much—she reached out and placed her hand on the oval-shaped, egg-like rock.
The moment her fingers brushed its smooth surface, a shiver ran down her spine. It wasn’t cold like she’d expected. In fact, it was the exact opposite—warm. Warmer than it had any right to be, especially compared to her perpetually ice-cold hands. It almost felt alive, like it was pulsing faintly beneath its surface, but she couldn’t tell if that was real or just her mind playing tricks.
Her eyes narrowed. The real million-dollar question wasn’t what it was—it was what the hell she was going to do with it. Selling it to the government would’ve been the obvious play. Easy cash, no strings attached. Except there was no way in hell they wouldn’t find a way to screw her over. If this thing was an egg, they’d probably slap her with some Lifetime Sci-Fi Original job, forcing her to be some kind of unwilling surrogate mother for whatever hatched out of it. And that was just not her vibe. She wasn’t exactly PTA material, let alone alien mom of the year.
“Plan B it is,” she muttered, crouching closer to the crater. Her noodle-like arms weren’t exactly built for heavy lifting, but she braced herself anyway. To her surprise, it wasn’t as heavy as it looked—dense, sure, but manageable. Still, by the time she got it cradled in both arms, she was already rethinking her decision. The thing radiated warmth, seeping through the hoodie she hastily threw on and into her chest like a living, breathing furnace.
Nicole shuffled back into the house, careful not to bang the thing against the doorframe, and dragged herself up the stairs, swearing under her breath the whole way. Her room was its usual mess of laundry piles, notebooks filled with half-sketched drawings caricatures that she tried to sell at one point which worked for a while until a Pizza Hut employee caught onto her scheme, and a few CDs about My Chemical Romance scattered like landmines across the floor.
She made a beeline for the bed and gently placed the egg down on the mattress. The springs groaned under its weight, and she froze, half expecting it to crack open like a horror movie cliché.
It didn’t.
Instead, it just sat there, faintly humming in a way that made her teeth buzz if she got too close. She stopped recording, flinging herself onto the bed beside the egg as she began opening up her contacts on her sidekick.
She dialed a number, phone pressed to her ear. Her leg bounced impatiently as the ringing dragged on. “Come on, bitch, pick up,” she hissed, glaring at the phone like it was personally betraying her.
Her eyes flicked back to the egg on her bed, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching her somehow, even without eyes. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t going to let her ignore it for long.
-
“I think I misheard you, Nicole. Did you say you have an egg the size of a bowling ball sitting in your room?” Jecka’s voice oozed disbelief, but she was here, as expected—the one friend Nicole could sort of trust with the more questionable corners of her life.
Nicole shrugged, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Yeah, that’s what I said. What, you think I’m hallucinating? Or that the vodka at Kelly’s party was spiked?”
“I do think the drink was spiked,” Jecka shot back, following Nicole up the stairs despite her initial resistance. Nicole had to promise there’d be no follow-up invitations, no forced hangouts with her weird brother, and definitely no spontaneous sleepovers. Not like Nicole hosted them anyway.
Reaching her room, Nicole flung the door open with an overly dramatic flourish. “Ta-da!” she said blankly, as if she were revealing a magic trick.
Jecka froze in the doorway, eyes wide as they landed on the thing sitting squarely in the center of Nicole’s unmade bed. “What the fuck is that?”
Nicole crossed her arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. Didn’t you take photography class? You spent a whole semester photographing farm animals and their...whatever.”
Jecka turned to glare at her. “That was before we got Mr. White fired under the assumption that he was a pedophile and won some lawsuit money, thank you very much. And, by the way, I don’t recall any chickens laying an egg that could double as a murder weapon.”
Nicole snorted. “So, what you’re saying is: it could be from a chicken. A really big one.”
Jecka carefully navigated the minefield of clothes, CD cases, and questionable snack wrappers littering Nicole’s floor. She stopped just short of the bed, squinting at the glossy black oval. “What kind of chicken shits out something like that? Also, why is it warm?” She brushed her fingertips against the surface, recoiling slightly. “It’s like one of those portable heaters from Goodwill.”
“Well, yeah,” Nicole replied, tossing herself onto her bed beside the egg on the left side. “But I don’t know what to do with it. Like, what if it hatches and… I don’t know, decides I’m it’s first meal?”
Jecka raised an eyebrow. “Then you’ve got bigger problems than what to do with your wardrobe. But, let’s be real: it’ll probably eat you first, which gives me plenty of time to bolt out the door.”
“Bitch.”
Jecka smirked. “You love me. Why not shove it in your closet or something? Nobody goes in there anyway, not even you.”
Nicole groaned, running a hand through her choppy bangs. “And what? Let it hatch and start munching on my clothes? You know my wardrobe is all I’ve got going for me.”
“Nicole,” Jecka said, exasperated. “You called me for advice. I’m giving it to you. Unless you want to, like, kill it before it hatches.”
“I mean, I haven’t tried killing an animal yet…” Nicole trailed off, glancing at the egg. “But I’m also kinda curious to see what comes out of it.”
Jecka’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now? You can’t handle responsibilities, let alone some alien...demon...chicken thing! Why did you even call me?”
Nicole threw her hands up. “To see if you knew what it was! I’m not a goddamn zoologist or...whatever! Holy shit.”
“I’m studying to become a psychologist, Nicole, not to play alien egg whisperer. You should’ve Googled it or something,” Jecka shot back, crossing her arms as she stared at the mysterious object like it might sprout legs and run off.
Nicole scoffed, pacing the room. “Oh, yeah, because Google totally has a FAQ for backyard meteor-eggs. This isn’t some Reddit rabbit hole, Jecka. This thing crashed in my backyard! You think I’m just gonna pass up the chance to make a sweet deal out of it?”
Jecka blinked, clearly unimpressed. “Let me guess, your genius procrastination plan is to sell it to the government? Have you even thought about what happens next? Like, I don’t know, maybe they silence you to keep it all hush-hush? You’d be on a milk carton by the end of the week. Or even worse, they’d sell you to the Taliban!”
Nicole rolled her eyes, stopping to lean dramatically against her bedpost. “Oh, please. If they come for me, I’ll negotiate. Besides, how would they explain that an emo high school girl cracked the case before NASA? I’ll be a legend.”
Jecka raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the chaos of Nicole’s room. “Yeah, sure. Right up there with ‘local teen missing, probably abducted by aliens.’ Very inspiring.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she leaned back onto Nicole’s bed, making herself far too comfortable, like she had nothing better to do than to observe the egg.
As she shifted, glancing at the egg up and down, her fingers lightly grazing its smooth surface as if she could somehow glean some secret information from it. “So, you’re just... stuck here, huh? No idea what to do with this... thing? I mean, I’m not cruel enough to kill it, and selling it to the government is a total no-go if you don’t want to end up in some underground lab being poked and prodded."
Nicole glared at the egg, her arms crossed as laid down beside it, her mind swirling with the possibilities. “All the more reason to just keep it next to me. You know, just... hope it eats me first. Maybe I’ll go out as some sort of cataclysmic event or become the unwilling host for some kind of parasite. Better me than some random government agent cocking a glock between my eyes, right?” Her voice carried that dark humor she always clung to when the world seemed a little too weird and dangerous for her liking.
“Yeah, right..” Jecka rolled her eyes. Nicole, sickeningly tracing a heart along the egg’s coarse, yet oddly smooth surface. “You think it would sprout tentacles like one of those porn video games that Jeffrey keeps talking about.”
“They have porn video games?”
CRACK
“Oh shit, Nicole, what did you do!?” Jecka’s voice shot up an octave, panic flooding her words as she bolted off Nicole’s bed, nearly toppling over in her haste. Her legs tangled in the mess of discarded clothes scattered on the floor, sending a few shirts and shoes flying in all directions as she stumbled backward, barely catching herself before she could crash into Nicole’s cluttered desk.
Nicole, unfazed by the chaos, shot her a look of pure annoyance. “I didn’t do shit,” she snapped, her hands raised in mock innocence. But her gaze was fixed on the bed, where the egg was making the most disturbing series of cracking noises, like the slow unraveling of a horrifying secret.
The air in the room thickened, as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath. The egg, still resting on Nicole’s bed, seemed to vibrate with an unsettling energy. Another loud crack split the silence, followed by a soft, sickening pop, as the first visible crack on the surface grew wider. The sound of it was almost rhythmic, like a heartbeat — slow, deliberate, inevitable.
Nicole backed up cautiously, her eyes not leaving the egg as it continued its odd, frantic escapade. With each crack, the shell seemed to splinter more, revealing the dark, slick, almost liquid interior.
The cracking intensified, the egg finally giving way completely as a dark, squid-like shape began to push its way out. Weirdly enough, it was floating. Then it opened its single eye. An amber color that seemed as if it were high on cocaine.
“I’m getting out of here...” Jecka muttered, her voice tinged with an almost frantic urgency as she slowly backed up toward the doorway. Her wide eyes never left the writhing creature that was originally on Nicole’s bed, her fingers hovering over the handle like a lifeline, ready to bolt at any second.
Nicole, however, sat frozen in place, a mixture of curiosity and reluctant fascination plastered on her face. “I mean, it’s actually kind of cute if you try to ignore its... rude awakening.” She spoke with a surprising nonchalance, as though the fact that an alien had just hatched in her room wasn’t something to completely lose her mind over. The creature’s damp, translucent skin still shimmered faintly in the dim light of the room, and its tiny, spiny limbs twitched like the nervous movements of something unused to the world.
Nicole, with her trademark pseudo-courage, steeled herself, lifted her arm, and inched closer to the creature. Her fingers hovered just above its strange, gelatinous body. “Maybe it’s not so bad. I mean, how could something like this hurt me?” she thought, trying to push the nagging feeling that this whole situation was only going to get worse.
"Nicole, what are you doing?!" Jecka whispered urgently, the panic now evident in her voice, as she stared wide-eyed at her best friend, who seemed hell-bent on making the worst possible decision of her life. The creature blinked, or what seemed to be blinking, its dark eye widening slightly as it registered Nicole’s presence. It flinched at first, but then it leaned into her touch, as though it could feel the coolness of her skin against the heat radiating from its own body.
Nicole's lips curled into a small, surprised smile as she slowly stroked the creature's back. “Huh, okay, that wasn’t so bad after all...” She said, almost to herself, as if petting the alien was a normal, everyday occurrence. Her heart still thumped heavily in her chest, but she had already crossed the line, and now all she could do was keep her cool.
Jecka let out an exasperated sigh, the sound thick with disbelief. "Thank god,” she muttered, relieved to see her best friend was still in one piece. For a moment, it seemed like everything might just be fine. But as Nicole pulled her hand back, the alien reacted with a terrifying speed. In an instant, it latched onto her face, its medium-sized octopus legs digging into her skin, its slimy body wrapping around her like a second layer of skin.
"Nicole?! Nicole!" Jecka screamed, her voice panicked as she rushed forward, her hand outstretched as if she could somehow pull Nicole out of whatever nightmare she had just invited into her life. But as her words echoed in the room, they started to fade—almost as if her voice was being swallowed up by something invisible, and Nicole could feel it too. The air seemed to grow thick, suffocating, her vision narrowing as the creature’s body pressed against her face, blocking out the light, the world, everything.
Nicole's mind buzzed in a haze of confusion and weirdly morbid curiosity. “So, this is how I die, huh?” she thought, oddly calm despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her skin burned where the alien's body pressed into her, the sensation like a thousand tiny pinpricks. She couldn’t breathe. The creature’s warmth seeped into her skin, as if it were melting her away. She could almost feel her face disintegrating, the alien’s touch spreading across her features like a slow, agonizing wave.
“Pretty cool,” she mused in the darkness of her mind, even as everything around her became blurry, then silent.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Nicole blinked a few times, the world slowly coming back into focus. Her senses, which had been dulled by whatever strange force had taken hold of her, returned in an almost jarring rush. She had been sure she was dead—had even expected it, as the alien's grip tightened, but now… now she was sitting up on her bed, feeling weirdly alive. She couldn't explain it, but the weight that had been pressing down on her was gone, and instead, she felt… energized. It was a strange contrast, like she had just woken up from the best sleep of her life—or like she had been resurrected from some near-death experience.
Ignoring the strange pulsing in her chest, which she swore had been slowing to a stop just moments ago, Nicole rubbed her forehead, wincing as if she had been hit by a truck. "The fuck happened?" she muttered under her breath, looking around the room like a person just waking up from a nightmare. She was disoriented, but not dead. The weight of her body felt different, lighter. Almost as if her bones were less burdened, her muscles less stiff. She felt refreshed in a way that didn't make sense.
"Where's that thing?" she asked, glancing around for the creature that had nearly eaten her face off. She didn’t know how it had happened, but there it was, sitting innocently on her desk, snoozing like it hadn’t just almost turned her into a midnight snack.
Jecka, still standing by the door, looked like a broken mess, her shoulders trembling with unshed tears. "I don’t know! I tried to pry it off your face, but it was like..." Jecka’s voice cracked, thick with panic and the fear she couldn’t quite hide. "It wouldn’t budge. It was like... I thought you were gone, Nicole. I thought you were... dead."
Nicole could hear the tremor in her voice, the sobs Jecka was desperately trying to hold back. It wasn’t that Nicole couldn’t feel the emotion behind her words. It was more like she didn’t know how to react. She didn’t cry, never had, and right now, she was far too confused by what had just happened to join Jecka in her panic. She couldn’t understand why Jecka was so broken up.
Nicole stood up from the bed, her body moving with an ease she wasn’t used to. She wasn’t athletic. Not by any stretch of the imagination, but she wasn’t out of shape either. And yet, now? She felt limber, like her muscles had been recalibrated and her joints were finally unhinged from whatever had been weighing them down before. It was so strange. So wrong.
"Stop leaking water like a faucet," she said, voice laced with a dry, sardonic edge. "If I recall, you don’t pay bills, yet." She glanced at Jecka as she wiped at her drying tears and sniffled. Nicole wasn’t that heartless—she could see the distress in her best friend’s face, but it was clear the world had just shifted for her, and she didn’t know how to process it.
Jecka wiped her stuffy nose, her eyes still swollen from crying. "What?" she gasped, her breath shaky. "What do you mean, ‘refreshed’? You could’ve died, Nicole! I—I thought I lost you."
Nicole paused, staring down at her own hands, the skin still soft, yet somehow different. She felt different. "I don’t know," she said, her voice lower now, almost contemplative. "I feel fine. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I feel…"
Her eyes flickered over to the alien creature, still sleeping innocently on her desk. It was like a bad dream, something she should’ve never touched. But the weirdest part? It didn’t feel wrong.
Nicole winced as the door downstairs flung open, the sound slicing through the haze of confusion and odd calm that had settled in her mind. "Fuck, Mom’s home," she muttered under her breath, suddenly hyper-aware of the situation. Her pulse quickened as she glanced at the creature, which had been quietly snoozing on her desk just a moment ago. Now, it stirred groggily, as though it too realized the stakes had just changed. Without warning, it zipped up and latched itself onto the back of her neck, its tiny form surprisingly strong for something so alien. "H-Hey?" Nicole gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for it, but it was already too late.
Jecka, standing by the door, looked on in silent awe. "Holy shit, it went invisible!" she whispered, her voice full of disbelief. The creature had vanished into thin air—well, almost. Nicole was the only one who could still feel its presence, a strange weight now resting on the back of her neck, a subtle yet unnerving reminder of the thing that had nearly killed her.
Before Nicole could process this new development, the bedroom door swung open. Her mom’s voice rang through the space. "Nicole, I didn’t know you were having a friend over."
Nicole froze, her heart skipping a beat. "Well, you know now. Can you go?" she managed, praying her voice didn’t betray the anxiety bubbling beneath her cool exterior. Her mom didn’t seem to notice anything amiss at first, strolling in like it was just another regular day.
"Go where?" Her mom asked, raising an eyebrow, but it was clear she had a bigger question on her mind. "And what is that on the bed?" She said pointing to the eggshell remains.
Jecka scrambled for something to say, her brain racing. "Uhh, we were working on a paper mache project for art class! So, uhm..."
Her mom’s eyes widened in mock surprise. "Nicole doing schoolwork? I knew my daughter was smart somewhere." She bounced over to the bed, inspecting the eggshell remains with an oddly delighted smile. "It feels so realistic too! I’m sure this will win a Nobel Peace Prize!"
"Y-Yeah, mom... Very cool project..." Nicole said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. The last thing she needed was her mom fawning over a fake, alien egg like it was the next Mona Lisa.
"Enjoy yourselves, girls," her mom chirped as she turned to leave, oblivious to the bizarre tension in the room. "And try not to make too much noise!" The door closed behind her, leaving Nicole and Jecka in stunned silence.
Jecka let out a deep sigh, her face a mix of frustration and confusion. "I’m so confused right now..." she groaned, slumping down to sit cross-legged on the floor. It was like everything had gone from bad to insane in the span of ten minutes.
Nicole, however, seemed almost unaffected by the chaos unfolding around her. She leaned back against her bed sitting down as well, tilting her head in contemplation. "This is kinda cool."
"Are we going to ignore the fact that you were on the verge of death not too long ago?" Jecka hissed, her tone laced with concern, though she was still trying to manage her anger at Nicole's complete disregard for the whole "almost dying" situation. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Nicole shrugged, her gaze drifting back to where the creature now floated near her bed. "I’m fine, aren’t I?" she said, more interested in the creature than in the reality of the near-death experience. She rubbed the back of her neck where the alien had been clinging to her. It was no longer there. Instead, it had flown into her hands, hovering like an eager pet. "I should give it a name or something."
"Are you serious, Nicole?" Jecka scoffed, her patience wearing thin. "That thing almost ate your face off, and now you're acting like it’s your new best friend?"
Nicole glanced at her, lips twitching into a small smile. "Black Doom."
"Sounds too edgy. Even for you, Nicole," Jecka shot back, crossing her arms. "Why do you always have to go for the most ridiculous names?"
Nicole considered for a moment, then shrugged, looking down at the creature. "Fuck, okay... Doom then." The alien seemed to agree, darting around in excited little loops, its tiny body buzzing with energy.
"Yeah, okay, I think this might work out," Nicole muttered, watching the creature float in a way that was almost... playful? It was strange—yet oddly fitting.
And then, just as Nicole was starting to think she might actually like Doom, the creature did something unexpected. It shrank slightly, and in a way that made Nicole’s eyes widen, it slid down her chest, getting a little too close for comfort with her breasts. It brushed against her upper body in a way that sent a sharp wave of discomfort through her. "OKAY, THAT’S OFF LIMITS!" she yelled, swatting at it as it chirped, almost like it was mocking her.
“Quiet down up there!” Her mom said from below.
“Sorry!” Jecka called back before rubbing her forehead. “I need ibuprofen…”
-X-
Approximately 28 hours before Operation: Stingray
Location: Burke, Virginia | PG-County
“Today, my friends, we will make history!” His voice boomed, slick with confidence, the kind of tone that didn’t ask for attention, it demanded it. “History that begins with annexing our nation’s police force, its people, and its primary military power at its very core.”
The man, a wiry figure with salt-and-pepper hair slicked back like an oil spill, drove his palm into the bulletin board behind him with a sharp, resounding thwack. Papers fluttered slightly, pinned maps marked with red Xs and circles trembling under the force of his gesture. His dark eyes burned with a fervor that teetered between zealot and madman, flicking across the room to lock onto every face like a predator sizing up its prey.
Behind him, the board told the story he didn't need to repeat: MS-13 wasn’t just a small-time crime gang anymore. No, the crude chaos of their early years had given way to something cold, calculated, and far more terrifying. Lines connecting cities like veins on a corpse stretched across the United States, branching out further and further. Member counts scrawled in the margins of states’ names grew with alarming consistency, like a contagion spreading. They were no longer just street-level thugs; they were building an empire. An empire that could last for eternity.
“And soon,” he continued, pacing now, his boots echoing on the concrete floor, “our message! our dominance will be undeniable. From the alleys of Los Angeles to the skyscrapers of New York, they will know who controls the streets. Who controls them!”
His voice dropped to a venomous hiss, the words dripping with malice. “It won’t be long before we take the next step—the step that will shake their pathetic sense of order and justice to its very foundation.”
He stopped abruptly, spinning to face the room again, his hand sweeping over the map like he was revealing a masterpiece. “No more hiding in the shadows. No more scraps from the table. We are the architects of a new chaos, my brothers and sisters. And we will tear down their world, brick by brick, until nothing remains but the ashes of the blood that they spilled!”
The room was silent, save for the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights above. And yet, the air felt electric, heavy with the weight of his words. He smirked, a slow, serpentine curve of his lips, as he stepped back from the board and folded his arms.
“It is inevitable. With some new profound assistance from an esteemed backer of ours..” His gaze met that of a friend that was a familiar face. “Pleasure to meet cha, Mr. White.. Or should I say, Dr. White?”
“Indeed.. I’m looking forward to correcting this generation of peace-goers into a higher echelon of society alongside you, Mr. X. But, first a little revenge plot, specifically to showcase our prowess.” Dr. White pointed to a specific high school in particular, “This is a personal vendetta of mine, but it won’t take long.” A malicious sneer began to form on his face, “It was a long overdue reunion, anyway.”
–
A/N: "Originally, this story was going to be about Jecka getting powers from Doom’s Eye, but I felt that Nicole rocked the edgy persona better. So, I decided to focus on her—because let’s be real, nobody does the whole chaotic, rebellious, ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ vibe quite like Nicole. To give you an overview of where this story’s headed, it’s split into storylines/choices that come with different alignments: Light, Dark, and Morally Grey.
Let’s break it down:
Light Affinity: Here’s where Nicole might start showing some sense of actual heroism—if you can call it that. This storyline is all about defending Burke, Virginia, against MS-13, the infamous gang that’s spreading chaos across the streets like wildfire. The whole mission here is simple: wipe out MS-13 once and for all, bringing stability to the town, and in the grander scheme, possibly even bringing down the beast that is the crime syndicate in Washington D.C. It’s kind of a ‘stand for justice’ thing, which, of course, would align Nicole with the better side of things—like, you know, supporting Obama’s vision for a safer America. But, hey, we all know Nicole probably won’t do it because she’s a hero, right?
Dark Affinity: Now, this is where it gets twisted. In the Dark storyline, Nicole becomes more than just an observer—she becomes an agent of chaos. Think of it as playing the villain role—assisting MS-13 in their violent overthrow of the authority figures that keep Burke and all of Virginia in check. She’d get a taste of real power, tearing down the entire system, taking it to Washington D.C. until it’s a crumbling heap of anarchy. This storyline is essentially fighting against Obama’s ideals, rejecting the structure that promises safety for something far more chaotic. Nicole’s choices will be morally questionable, as she dives deeper into destruction, but hey—what’s more fun than flipping the bird at the system?
Morally Grey: The fun part. Nicole doesn’t really give a damn about either side of this war. If you thought the first two were intense, Morally Grey is where she gets to be the wild card. In this path, she’s not fully in favor of cleaning up the mess MS-13 made, but she doesn’t give two shits about the law either. This route allows for the ultimate flexibility—whether she’s playing both sides for personal gain, choosing not to fully commit to either, or just doing whatever the hell she feels like, knowing that her actions won’t come with any kind of moral high ground. Jecka would likely be on board with this path, being the idealistic, ‘still has some empathy left’ type of friend. She'd help Nicole navigate the mess and stay in that grey zone, questioning if what they’re doing is right or not.
And speaking of Jecka, she plays a crucial role in these choices. In the Light and Morally Grey storylines, she’s by Nicole’s side, helping guide her, offering advice, and acting like the voice of reason—even when Nicole just wants to run headfirst into the chaos. But when the Dark Affinity kicks in, Jecka will be the first to break away from Nicole’s side. She doesn’t want to follow Nicole down that twisted path, and she’ll make sure to get in Nicole’s face about it—because even Jecka’s patience has its limits.
All in all, Nicole’s going to be juggling some heavy decisions. Hero or villain? Is she just a pawn in a game, or will she take control of her destiny? Who knows. It all depends on which way the chaos swings. And trust me, it’s going to be messy either way."
A/N - “I wish I can draw, because a Nicole x Class of ‘09 Generations title card does sound kinda cool.”