Danna. Night of March 1st. City of Anturios / Residential Zone.
Danna pressed the worn-out button on the old TV, its surface eroded from years of use. The screen lit up with a white dot at the center, but no image formed—only the audio came through the speakers. A report was playing, and the voice of a man could be heard saying:
"...we know this year's carnival will be one of the greatest in the history of this beautiful city, whose potential shines brighter with each passing day."
Danna hit the side of the TV with her right fist, and the image finally appeared: a live broadcast of the carnival's opening ceremony. On Channel 23, the program showed the mayor—a slim man with shiny, slicked-back hair—stepping down from the podium, having just finished his speech.
The camera panned across the crowd to show the thousands of people cheering, clapping, and celebrating the event as one. Most of them were dressed in all kinds of costumes. Many seemed to be repurposed Halloween outfits, awkwardly adapted to the theme of the seven deadly sins.
As the cameraman swept from right to left, one could spot short-skirted, seductive princesses symbolizing lust, an obese werewolf for gluttony, and even a purple octopus wearing a black hat, with bold black stripes painted across its eyes to simulate anger—spraying ink at anyone who stared too long. Above the crowd, large digital billboards invited everyone to visit the carnival. Unlike the handmade banners that read "Welcome to the Santo Tomás Festivities," the event had been rebranded by corporate sponsors to sound more modern and marketable:"The Carnival of the Seven Deadly Sins – City of Anturios."
Danna watched for just a couple of minutes. But when the historical segment began—explaining how the festival was born—she turned her back to the TV and tied her dyed-blonde hair into a ponytail.
The room was mostly dark, except for a small lamp near a wall mirror—and, of course, the TV's glow. Danna was wearing only her underwear, both pieces black. She walked steadily, but when she stopped, she leaned most of her weight on her right leg. Her left leg had a prosthetic up to the knee.
She grabbed the only chair in the room and sat down to eat a hamburger, accompanied by fries and a cola.The table was round and made of wood. On top of it lay a handgun in its holster, a violet wig, cigarettes, papers, and a lighter decorated with The Birth of Venus by Botticelli on one side.
As she sat down, the bones of her spine and ribs stood out starkly under the skin of her back. For years, she had tried to correct her habit of bad posture, but once she hit thirty, she gave up on many things—sitting properly was one of them. Some strands of hair fell over her face, and she simply blew them away to decide which fry would enter her mouth next.
The image on the television now showed a reporter, alternating her gaze between the camera and the party as she spoke:
"...There's no doubt that this is the time of year when more people from all over the world visit our city. The economic impact of this celebration is crucial for the citizens of Anturios. Let's remember that this fascinating city has shifted from textiles and mining to tourism, and that this themed carnival, born from a partnership between the government and private sector..."
Danna stared at her burger, paying no real attention to the broadcast. She was focused on her food like a child about to make an important discovery. Her frown showed pure concentration. Without letting go of the burger, she grabbed a few fries and stuffed them right between the meat and the top bun. She added a squirt of ketchup and bit down. Immediately, her expression turned to approval. She smiled.
"We're all eagerly awaiting the upcoming themed parade, just a few days away," the reporter beamed, sounding more like she was selling a product than delivering news."The seven stars of this celebration will be, as always, our four Kings and three Queens of the Carnival. They are: Joaquín Ibarra, King of Gluttony; Dafne Guzmán, Queen of Lust; Gabriel Vásquez, Wrath; Joel Gutiérrez, Sloth; Estefanía Castillo, Pride; Ramón Cortés, Envy; and Dayana Jovi, Queen of Greed..."
Danna pushed aside her leftover food and dragged her chair over to the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. She reached for the wig, but stopped with her arm extended, her face forming a look of surprise—like a mental note in her brain had finally surfaced.
"Wait... I forgot my stuff when we brought in the last one," said the prosthetic girl, scratching her head.
She grabbed the gun from the table and walked down the hallway, lit by the daylight streaming through the windows. The hall led to another room that, under normal circumstances, would've been used for guests. She checked a few computer monitors sitting on a desk, then headed toward the basement, slipping on a yellow robe as she went.
She raised her weapon into a ready position, just like police officers do before clearing a room. She opened the door cautiously, first checking her back to make sure no one was hiding behind it.
On the basement floor, about a dozen people lay tied up, blindfolded.
Danna began descending the metal stairs, still holding her gun at the ready—but humming a soft tune as her eyes scanned the room, clearly looking for something specific.Her smile returned when she spotted her backpack on top of a metal barrel.
She moved lightly, almost skipping between the captives with care not to step on anyone.
"Here it is," she said, opening the zipper and digging inside.
Behind her, a man in his forties lifted his head. He was the only one without a gag.
He opened his mouth, and from it emerged four pink tentacles, each lined with red suction cups. At first, they merely slid to the floor, but soon they slithered like four blind snakes, leaving a trail of viscous slime behind them.
The man's eyes burned with rage, and the sweat on his forehead betrayed the physical strain it took to launch his attack on the girl.
Danna was just about to turn when one of the tentacles—moving like a demonic tongue—latched onto her right ankle and coiled tightly.The others followed immediately, as if they had memorized her position. One grabbed her left leg, another her right arm, and the last one ensnared her left wrist.
She fired her gun with her right hand, aiming at the tentacle clutching her left arm. The shot severed it clean, and the creature released a fresh gush of thick, crimson slime as the severed end slithered toward her neck.
The man stepped back and, with all his might, pulled the tentacles toward himself.
Danna's free arm instinctively tried to pry the tightening grip from her throat. Her right hand, still holding the gun, couldn't aim properly due to the force dragging her away.Air grew scarce in her lungs. She gasped and choked.
Then, a fifth tentacle appeared, sliding menacingly toward her body.
She stomped down hard with her prosthetic leg, anchoring herself momentarily on the wooden floor. The pain in her stump was sharp—but it gave her just enough leverage.
She twisted onto her back, now facing the man and the fifth tentacle.From his expression, she could tell—he was smiling. He was enjoying this.
That new tentacle slithered between her legs.
The rest of the captives remained bound and blindfolded, but their shoulders tensed, as if bracing for impact.
Danna tossed the gun to her left hand.
"You bastards always degrade your victims," she said with disgust."Too bad for you—learning to shoot with both hands was one of the first things the Governess taught me."
The first bullet pierced the tentacle and hit the man square in the chest. He reeled back, staring at the ceiling.
A red laser dot appeared on his nose. When he lowered his gaze toward Danna, the laser moved to his forehead.
That's when Danna fired again—blowing part of his skull off with the silenced shot of her 9mm.
The tentacles lost their tension. Then they grew rapidly—before bursting into a cloud of red dust, glittering with bright, shimmering particles.
Danna stood up slowly. Gazing at the mess, she said:
"So... one of them had the tentacle ability? Some of these freaks are really weird. And I don't even know their limits. Was he turning into a damn octopus or just... making tentacles out of thin air?"She flipped through her notes inside her backpack."This was... number 4... Gabriel Vázquez. That name rings a bell..." she muttered, massaging her neck."Nope. Nothing here about his power. Maybe he made the tentacles to get rid of the gag? But... aren't octopuses supposed to escape from nearly anything? He could've just turned into a full octopus and slipped out... Unless he couldn't transform completely... or only had energy for those four limbs. Whatever," she sighed, exhausted."Try to behave, all of you," she added, raising her voice. "Otherwise, you'll just make us clean up the mess after we kill you."
A few of the captives bowed their heads even lower.
Suddenly, Danna raised her gun-holding hand to her forehead and lightly tapped it.
"You've got to be kidding me... I'm running late."
She grabbed her backpack and returned to the room, standing once more in front of the mirror while the TV kept playing in the background.
She began applying white makeup to her face, as if becoming a body drained of all blood. Then, she added purple eyeshadow to both eyes, some bluish-violet lipstick, and a few stitched lines drawn across her skin like the scars of a postmortem surgery. Blue, green, and more violet accents colored the rest of her face.
She pulled on black boots, lace stockings, and a tight black dress. Then came a cropped white jacket and deep violet nail polish.
Her phone rang.
"I know I'm running late," she said, answering. "Had a little mess here, but it's sorted now."
On the other end, a male voice replied:
"I was tailing Dutch. He was acting really suspicious. I followed him, and it looks like he's going to strike now. He just entered the house—exactly as we expected."
"I knew he wouldn't last long. I'm ready. Did you bring the car?" she asked, still watching herself in the mirror, carefully blending the shades of purple around her eyes.
"Yeah. All your toys are loaded. If you're taking the Ducati, remember to park near the church, just like I told you. Oh, and about the closest servants... I think one of them—Grappa, I believe—might be investigating us. Don't forget what we said about—"
Danna finished the first part of her transformation and began getting dressed, nodding now and then to show she was still listening.
"If they show up, I've still got a torch stashed in my backpack. Don't worry."
"Okay. Dutch is parked, but he could knock on that door at any moment. It'd be great if you were already on your way."
Danna leaned forward, put on the violet wig, and stood upright again, facing the mirror.
"I'll be there in a few minutes. Hey... that idiot hasn't called yet?"
"Not yet. Still within the expected window. He'll probably call any second."
"Right," said Danna as she slipped the 9mm into her purse."We have to see this through."
"See you soon, Dann..."
"The name of this persona is Violeta Crystal. It's been a while since I wore her, but by now... she feels like a second skin."
"Then... she's finally back."
"Yeah."
Danna—now fully transformed into Violeta Crystal—hung up while watching the ever-glowing monitor on the dresser. A security feed showed the room next door, where the captives still lay on the floor, bound.
"Everything looks good. We've got to trust everything will work out—on time."
She was about to walk out the front door when she remembered her lighter. She found it and tried to light a cigarette, but burned her fingers at a bad angle and decided not to smoke after all.
Before leaving, she caught one last glimpse of herself in the mirror.
A sudden wave of emotion welled up in her throat—she swallowed hard to keep from crying.
"Violeta Crystal is back," she whispered, placing a hand on her chest."And this will be the last time."