11:47 PM | Aveline's Office
Aveline sat at her desk, laptop open, fingers flying across the keyboard.
Russian text filled the screen. Paragraphs. Pages. Dense philosophical analysis that would make most people's eyes cross.
Her cats lay curled on the desk beside her. Bruno's head resting on her arm, heavy and warm. Meowly purring against her side, a continuous rumble that vibrated through the wood.
She paused. Glanced at them. Scratched behind Bruno's ears.
He purred louder, the sound somewhere between motorcycle and satisfied dragon.
Her lips curved. Just slightly.
Then back to work.
Always work.
12:47 AM | Yuki's Bedroom
Yuki woke to pain.
Sharp. Cramping. The kind that made you want to curl up and die for a few hours.
Oh no.
She sat up, heart sinking with the particular despair of realizing you've started your period in someone else's extremely expensive bed.
Of course. Of fucking course.
She checked. Leaked through her underwear, onto her pajama pants, but, thank God, thank whatever deity watched over menstruating women in billionaires' mansions, not onto the sheets yet.
She needed pads. Tampons. Something. Anything.
She checked the bathroom. Opened every cabinet, every drawer, increasingly frantic.
Nothing.
Shit.
Okay. Options.
She could wait till morning? No. She'd bleed everywhere and probably die of embarrassment before hypothermia got her.
Ask the staff? It was almost 1 AM. There was no staff. They'd all gone home before the storm hit.
Ask Aveline?
Yuki's stomach dropped.
"Don't disturb me during sleep."
Aveline had said that. Specifically. With that cold, flat tone that suggested she had contingency plans for people who didn't listen.
So.
Adrian.
12:52 AM | East Wing
Yuki crept through the mansion like a burglar in her own panic. Down the hallway, down the grand staircase, every step feeling too loud, too obvious, her heart hammering because what if Aveline heard somehow, what if she had motion sensors or,
Room seven.
She knocked. Soft. Hesitant. "Adrian?"
Silence.
She knocked again. Harder. "Adrian, please, I,"
The door opened.
Adrian stood there looking like death: bleary-eyed, hair doing things hair shouldn't do, wearing sweatpants and a faded NPU academy T-shirt. "Yuki? What,"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I need help and I didn't know who else to,"
"Whoa, hey, slow down." He rubbed his face, trying to wake up fully. "What's wrong?"
She took a breath. "I'm on my period. I don't have any pads or tampons or anything. And I leaked, and I don't want to stain Aveline's thousand-dollar sheets or whatever they cost, and the staff is gone, and I don't know where anything is, and,"
"Okay. Okay, it's fine." Adrian rubbed his face harder. "Uh. Aveline probably has... stuff. Somewhere. Rich people always have everything. We can just... go ask her?"
"She said not to disturb her."
"She'll understand. It's an emergency."
"Are you sure?"
Adrian hesitated. "...Sixty percent sure."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's the best I've got at one in the morning. Come on."
12:53 AM | Second Floor Hallway
They climbed the stairs together. Quiet. Tense. Each step feeling like walking toward their execution.
Reached the second floor. Hallway dark except for faint moonlight filtering through windows, making everything look gray and uncertain.
Room four.
Aveline's door.
Adrian knocked. "Aveline? Hey, uh, sorry to bother you, but,"
Nothing.
He knocked again. Louder. "Aveline?"
Silence.
Yuki whispered, "Maybe she's a deep sleeper?"
"Maybe." Though Adrian doubted it. Aveline probably slept like a paranoid owl.
He tried the door handle.
Unlocked.
Why is it unlocked?
He pushed it open slowly. "Aveline? We're coming in, don't, don't freak out, okay?"
The room was dark. Curtains drawn. Faint outline of a bed. A figure lying still beneath the covers, too still, like a corpse.
Adrian stepped inside. Yuki followed, staying close, radiating nervous energy.
"Aveline," Adrian said softly, moving toward the bed. "Hey. Wake up. Yuki needs,"
He reached out.
Touched her shoulder.
Gently.
And noticed.
Her hand. Under the pillow.
Oh shit.
Aveline moved.
Fast.
In one fluid motion she sat up, hand emerging from beneath the pillow, gun, arm extending with mechanical precision, and:
CRACK.
The gunshot was deafening.
Muzzle flash lit the room for a split second, blinding, white-hot, and Adrian felt,
Pain.
Sharp. Burning. His right cheek.
He stumbled backward, hand flying to his face, feeling wetness, heat, blood running down his jaw.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
Yuki screamed, a high, broken sound.
Aveline sat perfectly still. Gun raised. Eyes open and sharp and cold and utterly, terrifyingly calm.
She didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
Just... assessed.
Then her eyes closed. Just for a second. The universal gesture of a disappointed mother rethinking every decision that led to this exact moment.
These fucking people.
She lowered the gun with mechanical precision. Set it on the nightstand with a soft click.
"I specified," she said, voice flat and clinical, "no interruptions during rest periods. Deviation from protocol results in automatic defensive response." A pause. "Non-negotiable."
Adrian's mouth opened. Closed. No sound came out. Blood dripped onto Aveline's probably-obscenely-expensive hardwood floor.
She folded her hands in her lap. Perfectly controlled.
"Besides," Aveline continued, gaze sweeping across his face with the detachment of someone analyzing a moderately interesting science experiment, "now you look like some cool anime character. Two matching scars on both cheeks from bullet grazes. Symmetrical. Aesthetically consistent."
What?
She just shot him and called it aesthetic?
He finally found his voice. "You, you just shot me."
"Grazed. Trajectory calculated for minimal tissue damage, zero arterial compromise, minimal scarring." She pulled the covers back up like this was completely normal. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Estimated time: point-seven seconds. You'd be on the floor before your nervous system registered the threat."
A pause.
"First aid kit is in your bathroom. Second drawer. Apply pressure, clean with antiseptic, bandage. Estimated recovery: seventy-two hours. Minimal scarring if properly treated."
Another pause.
"Sleep is recommended. Disrupted REM cycles decrease cognitive function by eighteen percent. Also increases irritability, which you're already demonstrating."
The audacity.
The absolute, clinical, unhinged audacity.
Yuki stepped forward, voice shaking with anger and residual terror. "Wait. Don't you even want to know why we came here?"
Aveline blinked once. Recalculated.
"Affirmative. State your reason."
"I'm on my period," Yuki said flatly. "And I don't have any supplies."
Silence.
Aveline's expression didn't change. "Why didn't you check your bathroom closet? Southwest corner. Behind the extra towels. Fully stocked. Multiple brands, sizes, organic and standard options. Tampons, pads, heating pads, pain medication. Standard guest accommodation protocols."
Yuki stared at her. "I, I looked in the bathroom,"
"Did you look behind the towels? Or did you conduct a cursory visual scan and declare defeat?" Aveline's tone was absolutely merciless. "Basic environmental reconnaissance would have identified this in under ninety seconds."
Yuki's face flushed. "I,"
"You didn't look thoroughly. You panicked. Defaulted to external assistance rather than systematic problem-solving." Aveline settled back into her pillows. "Understandable given civilian background, but disappointing given I specifically prepared those accommodations for exactly this scenario."
"How was I supposed to know that?!"
"By looking." Aveline gestured vaguely toward the door. "Return to your room. Check southwest bathroom corner. Behind towels. Everything you need is there. Has been there since you arrived."
Yuki turned and left. Door closing hard, not quite a slam, but close.
Adrian stood there, hand pressed against his bleeding cheek, staring at this woman who'd just shot him and was now giving household organization tips.
"Why the fuck," he said slowly, "do you sleep with a gun under your pillow?"
Aveline met his gaze. No apology. No guilt. Just cold, calculated truth.
"C.R.I.M.E. Division agents experience an average of three assassination attempts per year. Corporate entities allocate substantial resources to eliminate operatives who interfere with profit margins. Defensive measures during vulnerable periods are mandatory, not optional." She paused. "Survival probability without firearm during sleep: thirty-two percent. With firearm: ninety-four-point-six percent."
Another pause.
"The math is obvious."
Obviously.
Right.
Adrian sighed. Long. Exhausted. Blood still dripping.
"Whatever."
He turned and walked out. Closed the door.
Because what was the point?
It was always like this with Aveline.
Clinical. Efficient. Terrifying.
And somehow, despite shooting him in the face, still probably right.
7:30 AM | Aveline's Bedroom
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Aveline's hand shot out from under the covers, fingers closing around the gun beneath her pillow in one smooth, automatic motion.
Eyes snapped open. Alert. Scanning for threats.
The alarm blared from her phone.
She exhaled. Released the gun. Silenced the alarm.
Checked the screen.
NO SIGNAL
EMERGENCY ALERT: LEVEL 3 SNOWSTORM - METRO CITY NORTHEAST - SEEK SHELTER - POWER OUTAGES EXPECTED - ROADS IMPASSABLE
Level 3.
She rose from bed, padding barefoot to the window. Pulled back the curtain.
White.
Everything was white.
Snow had buried the grounds in suffocating layers. The driveway was completely invisible. Gardens buried. Even the gates were barely visible through the blizzard, just dark shapes in an ocean of white.
Power lines sagged under ice, looking ready to snap.
Her breath misted against the glass.
She stepped back. Processed.
Analysis:
· No cell service
· No internet
· Power compromised (backup generators functional but fuel-limited)
· Staff unable to return (roads impassable, potentially for days)
· Supplies: adequate for 4-6 days
· Security: functional but isolated
· Threat level: environmental, non-hostile
Conclusion: Standard survival scenario. Proceed accordingly.
She returned the gun to its place. Left her room.
Time to secure the others.
7:35 AM | Second Floor Hallway
Aveline knocked on Yuki's door.
Footsteps inside. Fast. Panicked.
The door flew open.
Yuki stood there, phone in hand, eyes wide. "What the hell is going on? My phone's dead, well, not dead, but no service, and there's this alert, and I looked outside and,"
"Level 3 storm," Aveline said calmly. "Standard for Metro City winters. We're snowed in."
Yuki stared. "For how long?"
"Unknown. Minimum: today. Maximum: three to four days depending on storm duration and municipal plow schedules."
"Days?"
"Affirmative."
"But, Captain Elias, the case, the testimony,"
"Irrelevant until weather conditions improve. Communications infrastructure is compromised. Emergency services are prioritizing life-threatening situations. We wait."
Before Yuki could respond, footsteps echoed from the stairs.
Adrian appeared, hair disheveled, shirt wrinkled, fresh bandage stark white on his right cheek.
He looked exhausted. Like he hadn't slept at all. Which he probably hadn't.
"Is there seriously a Level 3 storm?" His voice was rough, hoarse. "Cell service, internet, everything's gone. I can't even call Elias. What are we supposed to do?"
Aveline looked at him. Noted the dark circles. The slight sway. The hand gripping the bannister for support.
He didn't sleep. Idiot.
"We adapt," she said simply. "Bathing is impractical given limited hot water reserves. Backup generators depleted fuel maintaining overnight heating. Sink hygiene only. Water supply remains functional via well pump. Face washing, teeth brushing. Sequential bathroom rotation to conserve heat. No showers."
Adrian stared at her. "You're giving us hygiene instructions?"
"Maintaining basic sanitation reduces illness probability by forty-seven percent in confined survival scenarios. Influenza transmission increases exponentially in close quarters without proper hygiene protocols."
"Unbelievable," he muttered.
"I'll proceed first," Aveline continued, already moving toward her room. "You'll follow sequentially. Yuki second, Adrian third. Minimize time in cold bathrooms. Efficiency is survival."
She disappeared inside.
Adrian and Yuki exchanged glances.
"She shot you last night," Yuki said quietly.
"Yeah."
"And now she's worried about our dental hygiene."
"Yeah."
"This is insane."
"Yeah."
Silence.
Outside, the wind howled like something alive and angry.
8:02 AM | First Floor - Barricading
The mansion felt different in daylight.
Colder. Emptier. The usual hum of staff preparing breakfast, the distant sounds of cleaning, the low murmur of security rotations, all gone.
Just wind. And silence. And the occasional creak of the house settling under snow.
Adrian stood in the grand foyer, staring up at the massive windows lining the eastern wall. Snow pressed against the glass like it was trying to break through, like it wanted in.
"We need to seal the windows," Aveline said, descending the stairs. She'd changed into tactical gear, black pants, fitted sweater, boots. Hair pulled back in a tight bun. All business. "Bulletproof shutters are integrated into the window frames. Automated deployment via lever mechanisms. Simple operation."
She crossed to the nearest window and demonstrated. Pulled a recessed lever hidden in the frame.
Heavy steel shutters rolled down from hidden compartments above, locking into place with a metallic thunk that echoed through the foyer.
The light dimmed instantly. Everything went gray.
"Yuki and I will handle the second floor," Aveline continued, glancing at them with clinical assessment. "Adrian, you manage the first floor. Or redistribute tasks as you prefer. Efficiency matters more than specific assignments."
Yuki looked at Adrian. "Want to work together?"
"Yeah," he said. Honestly, the idea of being alone right now felt worse than dealing with Yuki's nervous energy.
Aveline nodded once. "Proceed. Estimated completion time: forty minutes for competent operators."
She disappeared back up the stairs.
8:15 AM | First Floor - East Wing
Adrian and Yuki moved through the mansion systematically. Pull lever. Shutters descend with that heavy thunk. Move to next window. Repeat.
It should've been simple.
It wasn't.
"Why are these levers so stiff?" Yuki grunted, pulling with both hands. The shutter groaned but finally descended with a screech of protesting metal.
"Probably haven't been used in months," Adrian muttered, moving to the next one. His cheek throbbed. "Or years. Rich people don't exactly practice their apocalypse protocols."
They worked in silence for a while. The only sounds: shutters locking, wind howling outside like a wounded animal, their own breathing getting louder as the mansion grew darker.
"Can I ask you something?" Yuki said finally.
Adrian pulled another lever. "Sure."
"Does she always... shoot people? Like, is that normal for her?"
He laughed. Bitter. Short. "Define normal."
"You know what I mean."
Adrian sighed. Moved to the next window. "She operates on a different set of rules than the rest of us. Everything's calculated. Risk assessment. Threat elimination. She probably ran the numbers in her head before pulling the trigger, 'bullet graze, minimal damage, maximum deterrent, acceptable outcome.'"
"That's insane."
"Yeah. But it works."
"Does it?" Yuki stopped, looking at him. "You look exhausted. You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?"
He didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The bandage on his cheek, and the dark circles under his eyes, said enough.
They finished the east wing in silence.
At least this time it wasn't a Hello Kitty bandage, Adrian thought bitterly. Small mercies.
8:47 AM | Second Floor
Aveline moved through the second floor like a machine.
Pull lever. Shutter descends. Lock engages with satisfying mechanical precision. Move.
Efficient. Precise. No wasted motion. No unnecessary thought.
West wing: twelve minutes.
Central corridor: eight minutes.
East wing: ten minutes.
Total time: thirty minutes.
She descended the stairs and found Adrian and Yuki still working on the first floor's south wing, struggling with a particularly stubborn lever.
She waited.
Didn't comment. Didn't offer help. Just stood there, arms crossed, watching with that clinical assessment that made everything feel like a performance review.
They finished five minutes later, both slightly out of breath.
"Done," Adrian said.
"Adequate," Aveline replied. "Total time: forty-two minutes for first floor completion. Single operator completed second floor in thirty. Efficiency differential: twenty-eight percent. Room for improvement."
Adrian stared at her. "Are you seriously timing us?"
"Data collection informs future operational planning. Performance metrics identify training deficiencies."
"Unbelievable."
Yuki laughed despite herself. Exhausted, borderline hysterical laughter that echoed in the dark foyer.
Aveline's expression didn't change. "Breakfast preparation will commence now. Kitchen. Follow."
She turned and walked toward the back of the mansion.
They followed.
Because what else were they going to do?
9:03 AM | Kitchen
The kitchen was massive. Industrial-grade appliances that looked like they belonged in a restaurant, marble countertops you could perform surgery on, a gas range with six burners.
Aveline moved through it like she owned the place.
Which, technically, she did.
"Nutritional requirements," she said, opening the refrigerator with purpose. "Caloric intake minimum: eighteen hundred per person for sedentary survival conditions. Protein, carbohydrates, minimal fat for sustained energy. Preferences?"
"Ramen," Yuki said immediately.
"Eggs and toast," Adrian replied. "Avocado if you have it."
Aveline paused. Calculated. You could almost see her running the numbers.
"Compromise: ramen with eggs. Addresses both requests with single preparation process. Efficient."
"Works for me," Yuki said.
Adrian shrugged. "Sure."
Aveline began pulling ingredients with systematic precision. Instant ramen packets. Eggs. Garlic. Oil. Seasoning packets that looked suspiciously gourmet for "instant" anything. Avocado. Bread.
"Can we help?" Yuki asked.
Aveline looked at her. Then at Adrian.
"Can you cook?"
"...No," Yuki admitted.
"Not really," Adrian said.
Aveline stared at them for a long moment. The silence was damning.
"You're both adults. Functional adults in your late twenties. And neither of you possess basic culinary skills."
"I mean... I can make toast?" Adrian offered weakly.
"Toast requires zero skill. Bread plus heat equals toast. A child could accomplish this. A competent child."
"Hey,"
"Do you know how to boil water?" Aveline interrupted.
Silence.
"...Yes?" Yuki said uncertainly.
Aveline sighed. Actually sighed. Rare display of exasperation.
"Sit. Don't touch anything. I'll handle preparation. Clearly you're both useless."
They sat at the kitchen island like scolded children.
Watched as Aveline worked.
And tried not to feel completely inadequate.
9:17 AM | Cooking
She moved through the kitchen with surgical precision.
First: the ramen.
Filled a pot with water. Set it on the stove. Gas ignited with a soft whoosh and blue flame.
While the water heated, she prepared chili oil from scratch, not because she had to, but because apparently Aveline didn't do anything halfway.
Minced garlic with rapid, perfect knife work that would make a professional chef weep.