Danna. Night of March 1st. City of Anturios / Residential Zone.
Danna pressed the button—worn down from years of use—on the old device, and the television turned on. A white dot appeared on the screen, but the image didn't fully form; instead, sound already came through the speakers. It was a news report, and the voice of a man could be heard saying:
"…we know this year's carnival will be one of the best in the history of this beautiful city, whose potential shines brighter with each passing day."
Danna struck the device with her right fist, and finally the image came to life, showing a live report on the carnival's opening ceremony. On Channel 23, the program showed the mayor—a slim man with slicked-back hair—stepping down from the podium, having just finished his speech.
The camera panned out to show the crowd to viewers at home: thousands of people cheering, clapping, and celebrating the event in full force. Most of them wore costumes of all kinds. Many of those outfits looked like they had been reused from a past Halloween, now repurposed to fit the theme of the Seven Deadly Sins.
Just during the right-to-left camera sweep, you could spot sexy short-skirted princesses representing lust, an obese werewolf as gluttony, and even a purple octopus in a black hat, with exaggerated stripes painted over its eyes to create the illusion of anger—spraying ink on anyone who stared too long. Above them, large billboards invited people to visit the carnival. While many handmade signs called it the usual "Welcome to the Santo Tomás Festival," the official name, rebranded by local entrepreneurs for commercial appeal, was now: "The Seven Deadly Sins Carnival of Anturios."
Danna only paid attention for a couple of minutes. But when the historical background of the celebration began, she turned her back to the TV and tied her dyed-blonde hair into a ponytail.
The room was dark, lit only by a lamp near a wall mirror—and, of course, the television. Danna wore only her underwear, both pieces black. She walked normally, but when she stopped, she tended to lean on her right leg; the left had a prosthetic up to the knee.
She grabbed the only chair in the room and sat down to eat a burger, with fries and a cola on the side. The table was medium-sized, round, made of wood. On it rested a holstered gun, a violet wig, cigarettes, some papers, and a lighter bearing the image of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli on one side.
Sitting down, the bones of her spine and ribs protruded harshly through the skin on her back. For years she struggled with the habit of sitting badly, but by the time she turned thirty, she had given up on a lot of things—her posture being one of them. Some locks of hair fell over her face, and she simply blew at them as she decided which fry would be the next to enter her mouth.
The image on the TV now showed a female reporter, alternating her gaze between the camera and the festivities as she said:
"…There's no doubt that if there's a time when people from all over the world come to this city, it's now. The economic impact of this festival is the most important for the residents of Anturios. Let's remember this fascinating city has shifted from textile factories and mining to tourism, and this themed carnival—born from the alliance between government and private enterprise…"
Danna stared at her burger, not paying attention to the report. She was focused on her food like a child about to make a great discovery. Even her frown showed concentration. Without putting the burger down, she grabbed a few fries and slipped them between the meat and the top bun. She added a bit of ketchup and took a bite. Her face instantly showed approval, and she smiled.
"—Without a doubt, the highlight will be the themed parade of floats set to take place in a couple of days," the reporter said with a grin more suited to an ad than a news report. "The seven stars of the event, as always, are our four kings and three queens of the carnival: 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 the food leftovers aside and dragged her chair toward the full-length mirror propped against a wall. She reached for the wig but suddenly stopped, as if a mental note had just surfaced in her brain.
"Wait… I forgot my stuff when we brought in the last one," said the girl with the prosthetic, scratching her head.
She grabbed the gun from the table and moved down the hallway lit by the windows. It led to another room which, under normal circumstances, would be a guest bedroom. She checked a few computer monitors resting on a cabinet. Then, she headed to the basement while putting on a yellow robe.
She raised her weapon into a ready position, like cops do before entering unsecured territory. Carefully, she opened the door, first checking her back to make sure no one was hiding behind it.
On the basement floor, about a dozen people lay bound and blindfolded.
Danna started descending the metal stairs, still holding the gun up, humming a soft tune as her eyes searched for something specific.
She smiled upon spotting her backpack atop a metal barrel. She walked lightly, almost hopping between the tied-up bodies, careful not to step on anyone.
"There it is," she said, unzipping the metal clasp and searching inside.
Behind her, a man around forty raised his head. He was the only one without a gag. His mouth opened, and a fold of blue fabric began to grow out of it. At first, it looked like he had swallowed his own gag, but within moments the volume was too large for any human to contain.
The fabric expanded magically, writhing like the forked tongue of a demon. His eyes radiated fury, and sweat poured down his brow with the effort it took to strike.
Danna was just about to turn when the fabric reached her right foot and shot up to wrap around her neck, slamming her to the floor.
It moved like a blind serpent, needing only to find its prey to strike. Danna's arms instinctively fought to free her throat, even as she still clutched the gun. Her breath came out in gasps as the air fled her lungs. She kicked the floor with her prosthetic, pain flashing through her amputated leg, but the blow was enough to anchor her momentarily on the wooden floor.
She rolled onto her back and faced the man. The others, still tied and gagged, raised their shoulders in tense anticipation, as if waiting for a punch.
The man convulsed, and a laser dot landed on his nose. As he looked down at Danna, the dot moved to his forehead. In that instant, she blew part of his skull off with a silenced 9mm shot.
She stood back up and, surveying the scene, said:
"Did we have one with a fabric ability? Let's see…" She flipped through notes in her backpack. "This one was… number four. Gabriel Vásquez. That name rings a bell." She paused, rubbing her neck. "No mention of his ability… Anyway, behave yourselves. Otherwise, we're the ones who have to clean up after killing you."
Then, Danna brought her gun-hand to her forehead and tapped it lightly.
"This is bad. I'm running late."
She grabbed her backpack and returned to the room, facing the mirror again while the TV kept playing.
She began applying white makeup, as if disguising herself as someone with no blood beneath their skin. She added purple eyeshadow, a violet lipstick tinged with blue, and drew stitch-like scars like those from a graveyard operation. A bit of blue, green, and more violet on various parts of her face. Black boots, lace stockings, a tight black dress. Then, a cropped white jacket. Her nails: deep violet.
Her phone rang. She answered:
"I know I'm a little behind. Got caught up with something here, but it's handled."
A man's voice replied:
"I was watching Dutch. He was acting real suspicious. I followed him, and it looks like he's about to make his move. He arrived at the house, just like we expected."
"Knew he wouldn't hold out long. I'm ready now. Did you bring the car?" She kept watching herself in the mirror, applying more purple around her eyes with gentle strokes.
"Yeah. So all your toys are here. If you're coming on the Ducati, remember to park near the church like I told you…"
Danna finished the first part of her transformation and got dressed, nodding occasionally as she confirmed she was still on the line.
"If they show up, I've still got a torch rigged in the backpack."
"Okay. He's parked for now, but he could knock at any moment."
Danna leaned forward, put on the violet wig, and straightened up again, looking herself over in the mirror.
"I'll be there in a few. Hey… that idiot hasn't called?"
"Not yet. But it's still within the normal window. I'm sure he'll call any moment now."
"Right," Danna said, tucking the 9mm into a bag. "We have to see this through."
"See you here, Dann…"
"Violeta Crystal is this character's name. It's been a while since I wore her, but by now, I think she's become a second skin."
"So she's finally back."
"Yes."
Danna—now transformed into Violeta Crystal—hung up while glancing at the ever-on monitor on the cabinet. It showed a live feed of the next room, where the captives still lay bound on the floor.
"Everything looks good. We have to trust everything will go right and on time."
She was about to head out the front door when she remembered her lighter. She found it and tried to light a cigarette, but at a bad angle, she burned her fingers. She chose not to smoke.
Before stepping out, she gave herself one last look—and felt an urge to cry, which she swallowed down.
"Violeta Crystal is back," she whispered, placing a hand over her chest. "And this will be the last time she is."