One of them the boss the schools uncrowned king, his neck twisted like a snapped twig, lay discarded on the curb like trash.
Catherine's knees buckled.
"Urghhh... I... I think I'm gonna v..."
HURKKK. Morgana beat her to it, doubling over and painting the grass. Catherine followed a second later, barely making it to a bush.
"Sweet bleeding G*ds, what the f*ck was that exactly?!"
They stumbled back, wiping their mouths, only to stop as they heard laughter. Flirtatious, sultry, and definitely not appropriate for the situation.
They looked over, to see the man, their savior, exchanging suggestive banter with the tall, half g*ddess looking woman beside him. The tension between them was thick enough to cut. Catherine blinked.
"…Did she just say 'deliciously unhinged?'"
Morgana, still pale, wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
"…She also said 'mmm.' Right after he crushed a guy's skull."
They both looked at the man again. White hair with a black streak. Pale as death. Clad in all black, rings, earrings, a cigarette always smoldering at his lips.
He looked like a gangster cosplaying as a gothic war g*d. And he was hot. Like extremely f*cking hot to the point he looked artificial. Catherine squinted.
"…Wait a f*cking minute. White hair. Smoky aura. Death rock fashion. Chain smoking. No chill attitude…"
Morgana blinked twice.
"...Isn't that...?"
Both together called out.
"UNCLE DRAC?!"
Their jaws dropped in tandem.
"No way! He was a fat, grumpy, forty something alcoholic who lived like a depressed war hobo!"
Catherine stared harder.
"He's two meters tall now! That ain't just a gym fix. That's a growth spurt straight out of a f*cking isekai!"
Morgana gagged again.
"We just had the hots for our own uncle...!"
Catherine looked horrified.
"…Are we gonna need therapy?"
Morgana nodded rapidly.
"SO MUCH therapy."
...
MC POV
The moment I heard it "Did we just have the hots for our uncle?" I almost gagged mid breath.
What the f*ck?! What's wrong with you two?! Do you want me to get f*cking banned on every platform?!
I cursed internally, my brain short circuiting at the sheer degeneracy of it.
My yellow-golden HUD flared to life, target locking the two bimbo gremlins as they blinked up at me like cornered cats. I narrowed my eyes.
"Get in the f*cking car. Not. A. Word."
The command was absolute. They flinched, nodding rapidly like they just got caught with their hands in the apocalypse jar.
I turned on my heel and got into the Hellcat. Invicta followed, sliding into the shotgun seat like she was walking a runway at the end of the world. The moment my door clicked shut. The backseats exploded.
"Damn, Uncle Drac, did you get bone extensions or some sh*t?!"
"Did you get plastic surgery?! You look like a model!"
"Wait wait wait... when the f*ck did you get this rich?!"
"And those duchebags… Uncle… I think you killed like... half of them?! Are you going to prison?"
"Uncle Drac, some of those dips*its had powerful backers! One of them's the son of a Triad boss!"
My facial muscles twitched so hard I thought I was going to bite through my cigarette. I squeezed the steering wheel until it creaked. These g*dsdamn overgrown vixen chatterboxes who used all theire nutrients for theyre bodies Instead of theyre brains…
"You two shut. The f*ck. Up."
My voice was ice. They finally, mercifully, shut their mouths. I locked eyes with them through the rearview mirror, the glow of my cyber pupils flashing.
"Seatbelts. Now."
They fumbled like kids caught red handed. Click. Click. I dropped the Hellcat into gear, floored the pedal, and we roared out like a bat from hell.
The engine growled. The tires screamed. I lowered the window, lit up another cigarette, and let the wind hit my face.
If anyone knew how to get under my skin, it was those g*dsdamn nieces of mine that only had social media and pretty boys In theyre heads.
I thought as I mentally dialed Sylvy's number, I marveled again at just how damn convenient this brain chip was. No buttons. No screen. Just a thought. A pulse. And a connection flaring to life.
The moment the call got through her voice thundered in my head like a freight train, filled with a familiar blend of fury and concern.
"Where the f*ck have you been you deadbeat f*ck?! I haven't been able to reach you in almost two years! Neither could Mom or your mom! Do you know how many tears they shed for you, you inconsiderate sh*t?"
I winced, scratching the back of my head with the same hand that was gripping the wheel a second ago, dammn feisty as always.
"Look, Sylvy… some things happened. I'll explain once we meet up, alright?"
There was a loud, aristocratic snort on her end, classic Sylvy. Always sounded like she ran a Fortune 500 company and a black market empire on the side.
"You better, dipsh*t."
I sighed in relief. Yep same old Sylvy.
"Anyways… where are you right now?"
"I'm at Mom's place. With Grandma and Grandpa."
Her voice dropped. Softened.
"They're… not doing so good."
I didn't say anything for a moment. Just stared ahead at the almost empty streets while the wind blasted through the windows. My hands tightened around the wheel.
They were old. Really old. Over a hundred. And while their bodies still clung to life, their minds had been fading for years.
Vegetables, everyone said. I used to think it'd be better if they just passed on peacefully. But now… after everything I'd seen, learned… after Invicta…
I thought as I glanced at her fro mthe corner of my view.
I was f*cking glad they were still alive.
"Got it,"
I said, voice low.
"We'll be there soon. Oh, and… Morg and Cat are with me."
"Wait...what?! Why?! Where?! What the fck happened to them?!"
"They're bruised a bit but..."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BRUISED?!"
She exploded in my mind.
"WHAT THE F*CK DOES THAT EVEN..."
"Relax, will you?!"
I interrupted, eyes twitching from the sheer volume of her mental screech.
"A couple of flies got stuck to them. I swatted them. That's all."
A long pause. Then
"Did you kill anyone again?"
Hearing this I said nothing, seemed like she was aware of what happened then I met Invicta.
"…Drac?"
"…Define 'kill,'"
Sylvy sighed on the line, hard and long like she was already pouring herself a drink.
"Of course you did. G*dsdammit. Just… get here. We'll talk then, maybe I can pull some strings this time. But I'm warning you, if those girls of mine come back with trauma, I'm beating your fatt ass."
"I missed you too, cuz,"
I muttered with a smirk and killed the call. Invicta glanced at me, smirking from the passenger seat as she reclined like she owned the whole g*dsdamn Hellcat which she did.
"Family drama, huh?"
I blew out smoke from the corner of my lips.
"You have no idea."
Behind us, Morgana and Catherine finally dared to breathe again. Just in time to start whispering again. I turned the music up. Way up.
...
Catherines and Morganas POVs
Catherine leaned in closer to her sister, whispering as quietly as she could over the thunder of rock blasting through the speakers.
"Okay… he's definitely talking to himself."
Morgana nodded slowly, eyes wide.
"Yep. No doubt. Full on internal monologue mode. Out loud."
They both glanced forward at the pale, cigarette smoking, death rock demigod behind the wheel. His jaw twitched like he was chewing on a grudge the size of a tank.
"Do you think he finally… y'know… lost it?"
Catherine asked, biting her lip. Morgana scrunched her face.
"Ummm… probably. I mean, Mom did say Uncle Drac was kinda damaged even before he became an army grunt."
"Yeah, she always said something like, 'That cousine of mine' always been cracked just took the army to finish the job.'"
"Totally tracks. I mean, who the hell volunteers to join a peace keeping mission to a post war country if they're not already a bit messed up?"
Catherine winced as she adjusted her seatbelt, glancing down at the faint bruise on her arm from falling on her ass from the slap.
"And then there's the part where he casually turned eleven guys into modern art in, like, a minute."
Morgana crossed her arms.
"That's not stress. That's certified batsh*t. Like, the kind of crazy that gets you your own cult."
Catherine tilted her head, watching the glow of his cybernetic eyes through the rearview mirror.
"…Still hot, though."
Morgana groaned.
"Catherine, no. Please. I can't go through another round of incest adjacent thoughts."
"…He's not blood related by direct lineage."
"Catherine."
"I'm just saying!"
"Catherine."
"Okay, okay! F*ck. Just saying."
She turned to the window with a dramatic huff.