Rain still fell in relentless sheets, bouncing off broken pavement and puddles blackened with blood. Vanessa stood unmoving, her eyes calm, almost serene, as the neon lights fractured around her. The three figures in front of her shifted uneasily. The blond boy—Denji—fidgeted, unsure whether to attack, retreat, or just stare. Power, red-haired and sharp-eyed, growled low in her throat, muscles tensing like a predator's coil. And then there was Makima. Silent. Calculating. The one who seemed to weigh not just Vanessa's body, but her soul.
Vanessa tilted her head slightly. "You're curious," she said. Not a question. A statement.
Makima's lips curved into a small, professional smile. "I am," she admitted. "But more than that… you are an anomaly. I have never encountered a human like you." Her eyes flicked to Denji and Power before returning to Vanessa. "You exist outside my expectations."
Vanessa let a small, knowing smile slip. "I don't live inside anyone's expectations."
The air thickened. Vanessa felt it—the subtle pulse of attention, the undercurrent of desire, frustration, and control. The Devil of Desire had already begun to whisper, like a low hum beneath her skin. Every glance, every instinct from these three humans amplified her senses, sharpened her reflexes.
Makima tilted her head, voice calm but probing. "Who… are you, really? Where do you come from?"
Vanessa took a slow step forward. Each movement precise, deliberate, measured. Her hands remained visible, unthreatening, though every line of her body radiated latent danger. "I'm… someone who refuses to be cataloged," she said. "Someone who will not be measured, controlled, or classified. You may study me all you want, but I suggest—carefully—that you refrain from touching me."
Denji blinked. "Uh… wait, she just told us to back off?"
Power's eyes narrowed, her grin curling into something vicious. "I don't like being told what to do."
Makima's voice cut through, soft but firm, like a whip in the rain. "You two will test her. Observe her capabilities. See if she is a threat. But do so under my command."
Vanessa's smile widened. Not a hint of fear, not the slightest hesitation. "Test me? Fine. But know this: the moment anyone touches me uninvited, the consequences will be immediate."
Denji shifted, gripping the chainsaw handle that hung limply at his side. Power raised a hand, her nails long and sharp, ready to extend into whatever weapon she preferred at the moment. Both of them were seasoned hunters, but they had never faced a human who radiated danger so calmly, so deliberately. Vanessa was not afraid of them. She did not need to be. She thrived on their tension.
Makima's gaze hardened, and her voice took on a sharper edge. "Denji. Power. Engage."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Power leaped forward, teeth bared, her red hair whipping in the rain. Denji followed more hesitantly, trying to gauge the distance, the range, the intent. Vanessa's eyes narrowed. She had expected this. She had wanted this. Not because she wanted to fight—but because she wanted to measure them, to understand the flow of desire and aggression that surged from them both.
With a flick of her wrist, she produced her weapons: two katanas, their edges catching the neon light, sharp and threatening. She twirled one lazily, the other resting in her grip, a display of effortless confidence.
Denji froze for half a second, recognizing the move. "Uh… she's serious…"
Power snarled. "You're not just standing there."
Vanessa advanced. Slowly. Methodically. Every step was calculated. Her body moved as if already anticipating the attacks, the feints, the momentum of their bodies. Her eyes never left theirs, reading, calculating, assessing. She had already sensed the friction of desire, the tension of challenge, the thrill of danger that radiated from both hunters.
Denji charged first, the chainsaw blade humming to life. The sound was raw, mechanical, violent. Vanessa sidestepped, the rain slicking the ground beneath them. The blade cut through nothing but air as she twisted gracefully, her katana flashing like a streak of lightning. She felt the pull—the subtle tug of Denji's obsession, his adrenaline-fueled desire to impress, to conquer. It was intoxicating, energizing. The Devil of Desire whispered, feed, feed, feed.
Power lunged next, claws extended, aiming for Vanessa's shoulder. Vanessa shifted her weight, rolled low, the other katana slicing through the rain with a metallic hiss. Power skidded to a halt, just barely regaining balance, and Vanessa was already rising, poised, every motion smooth, lethal, and deliberate. She smiled again, just slightly. Not cruelly. Not arrogantly. But with the quiet, undeniable confidence of someone who knew she was untouchable—not because she was invincible, but because she was unpredictable.
Denji recovered and struck again, this time more aggressively, trying to flank her. Vanessa met his swing with one katana, parrying the attack, the metal singing as the collision rang through the rainy night. Sparks—figurative, from tension and raw energy, if not literal—flared in her perception. She felt the surge of desire, the mix of fear and fascination in both Denji and Power, and she let it flow into herself, strengthening her reflexes, her precision.
"Stop," Vanessa said calmly, almost lazily, and her voice carried an unshakable authority. "Both of you. Stop and observe."
Power hissed through her teeth. "You don't tell me what to do."
Vanessa smiled wider, the rain glistening on her blades. "I just did."
Makima's eyes narrowed. She was still watching, silently calculating. Vanessa's control over the moment, over the energy radiating from the other two, was impressive. Dangerous. She had never encountered anyone capable of such a calm, measured manipulation of both threat and attraction simultaneously.
Denji's chainsaw whined again, hesitating. Power's claws twitched, ready to strike. Vanessa advanced again, slow, deliberate, her katana cutting an imaginary line between them—a line of dominance and precision.
Then, without another word, Vanessa shifted her weight and lunged. Not recklessly. Not blindly. With a smooth, controlled motion, she parried Denji's chainsaw with a twist of her wrist, sending him stumbling. Power struck simultaneously, but Vanessa ducked and rolled, sweeping low with one katana and forcing Power to jump back.
Rain splashed everywhere. Water, blood, tension. All mixed into the first real confrontation.
Makima leaned forward slightly. "Interesting," she murmured. "You are… a human like none I have ever seen."
Vanessa's eyes flicked toward her. "I am aware," she said. Then back to the two hunters. "Now, are we done testing, or will you continue to amuse me?"
Denji got to his feet first, panting. Power's grin was edged with frustration. Both were clearly shaken—Vanessa had not even moved fully, had not even struck with the full intent of her power. Yet they were already on edge, their focus fractured, their desires and instincts tugged in ways they could not fully control.
The Devil of Desire hummed in her mind. Good. Feed. Test. Dominate.
Vanessa sheathed her katanas slowly, deliberately, letting the threat linger in the air like smoke. The first encounter had not been a victory in the conventional sense. She had not injured them—yet. But the lesson was clear.
She could be touched, confronted, challenged… but never controlled. Anyone who tried would pay the cost, sooner or later.
Makima straightened, expression unreadable. "Keep observing," she said softly. "She may prove… useful."
Vanessa tilted her head toward her. "I'll cooperate… on my terms."
The rain fell harder. Lightning split the night sky, illuminating the tense tableau. The first confrontation was over, but the game had only begun.
And Vanessa knew it.
The Devil of Desire whispered again, low, satisfied, thrilled. Let them come. Let them reach for you. Let them fall.
Vanessa exhaled, calm, powerful, utterly untouchable. The world had arrived at her feet. And she was ready to see exactly how far she could bend it to her will.