The dorm was quiet. Everyone still sleeping. Probably dreaming of school supplies, hot classmates, or Ava saying "infect" in that weirdly seductive voice of hers.
Ashley?
She was on the roof.
Perched at the edge like a gothic gargoyle with a coffee mug, a hoodie, and issues.
The wind tousled her hair as she scanned the sky like a sniper waiting for a target. A flicker of motion. A shadow against the clouds.
Bird.
Ashley's lips curled.
Zzzzap!
The fire laser from her eye tore through the air like a divine punishment. The pigeon burst into smoke and feathers mid-swoop, a single charred leg falling onto the roof tiles with a plink.
Ashley exhaled.
Eyes fluttered.
Back arched slightly.
"…Mmmh…"
She bit her lip.
"I swear," she whispered, staring at the scorched sky, "killing things is better than sex."
She blinked, then frowned. "Okay. That's probably not healthy."
Another bird dared to exist.
ZAP.
She twitched.
"Oh god, I think I just—"
She stared at her hand. Looked around. Then laughed, covering her mouth like she'd just farted in church.
"I nut when I murder birds," she announced to the heavens. "Is that a medical condition? Should I get that checked?"
The clouds didn't answer. But a hawk flew a little too close.
She smiled, eyes lighting up. "Round three, baby."
ZAAAP.
Gone.
Ashley stretched, feeling relaxed, soothed, emotionally unclogged.
No one understood. No one could understand.
Except maybe Ava. But Ava would want to bottle it and sell it as a disease.
She sighed dreamily.
"Killing is my love language."
She leaned back, still high on the thrill, and whispered to the sky:
"God help whoever tries to flirt with me tomorrow."
The universe made a mistake.
A beautiful, chaotic, flaming, sparking, virus-dripping mistake.
Because somehow—somehow—the school administration thought it would be a good idea to assign Ashley, Ava, Cleo, and Sera to every single class together.
From homeroom to combat theory, from elemental physics to power control labs...they were a package deal.
"Group learning encourages teamwork!" the email had said.
Ashley stared at the announcement on her phone like it owed her money. "Group learning is going to encourage manslaughter."
Cleo practically vibrated in her seat, holding her tablet up. "Guys! GUYS! This means we get to do every project together! We're gonna be a squad of academic destruction!"
"Correction," Sera said coolly, flipping through the syllabus. "You three are gonna be chaos. I'm gonna carry your sorry asses to graduation with grace and caffeine."
"Aw," Ava smirked, kicking her boots up on the table. "You're already talking like a married woman. You gonna carry us across the threshold too, Sparkles?"
Sera did not dignify that with a response, but her eyebrow twitched, which Ava considered a win.
Ashley, meanwhile, lit the corner of her schedule on fire. Just the corner. Just enough to make a statement.
She mumbled, "This school deserves what's coming."
—
First Class: Power Ethics 101
Professor: "Today we'll discuss responsibility and restraint—"
Ashley: Eyelasers a fly mid-sentence.
Professor: "...Right. Moving on."
—
Second Class: Combat Training Lab
Everyone else: Wearing training gear.
Ava: Still in her varsity jacket, licking blood off her knuckle. "Let's see who bleeds best, babies."
Ashley: "Bet."
Sera: Already charging her fists with enough voltage to cook a cow.
Cleo: "YAY TEAMBUILDING!"
—
By the end of the day, they had:
Broken three practice dummies.
Been politely asked to "please stop cackling like villains."
Made a TA cry.
And earned an unofficial group title on campus: "The Final Bosses."
Ashley dragged herself onto the dorm couch later that night, arms behind her head, watching Ava balance a pencil on her tongue.
"You know what?" she muttered.
"We're going to kill this semester," Ava said, not removing the pencil.
"Or each other," Sera added.
"Either way, it's gonna be iconic!" Cleo chimed.
And somehow...that felt like victory.