If you're reading this when it's posted, Happy Halloween! If not, uh, have a nice day.


When she was little, Pacifica had thought her parents were supportive, that they cared about her dreams. She said she wanted a new dress? A custom wardrobe was sent over from Paris. She said she wanted to be a singer? The very next day some famous face was waiting to give her lessons over breakfast.

But no amount of luxury could conceal the truth. The truth that had crawled up behind her and wrapped its cold, careless hands around her throat so slowly she hadn't noticed until she could no longer breathe. She was never a person, she was a resource. A personality her parents could shape and then milk dry.

She made her first appearance on TV at age eight, playing the daughter of an abusive drunk. She still vividly recalled the first day after shooting, the director's disappointment at her performance, the way her mother's fingernails dug into her shoulder, the rough grasp of her father as he suggested "method acting". That night, the pain of being carefully bruised where no one would see, the chime of the bell, the whispered assurances of her parents promising this was just to make her better. Needless to say, her performance for the rest of the show was spectacular.

She released her first single at fifteen, a little earworm where she pleaded for someone to use her. She didn't write the lyrics.

She was paid to appear in a commercial after her first album started climbing the charts, each song filled with lies and false feelings.

She was given a starring role in a film adapted from a popular teen novel at seventeen. She had a fanbase in love with the mask her parents made, the mask she could feel herself suffocating in, slowly but surely.

She was guaranteed money to whoever chose to profit off her next by the time she was eighteen. She spent her days dying behind the mask, hoping every day that someone would peer into her eyes and see something beyond the painted image. No one ever did.

Her parents passed her from project to project, company to company. Everyone willing to pay would get a turn with their doll. They took the money Pacifica might have used to escape and spent it on extravagant gifts, wrapping her in riches until she thought she would scream.

She turned nineteen, and couldn't take it anymore. She began to complain of sleepless nights, of the horrible effects a poor night's sleep might have on her. They gave her pills to help, one every night, terrified of what may happen if that carefully constructed mask fell. Pacifica hid the pills under her mattress.

She almost had enough when the maid found her collection. Her parents shouted, the bell rang, and they never even had to hit her. All it took was that simple sound to make her freeze, imagined pain lancing through her body. She sobbed herself to sleep.

She woke to reprimands and routine, just as she did every day. She smiled and sang and acted until she was finally given the chance to sit in her dressing room. That was when the first sign came. A news report, something about a hostage situation, starting playing in the room nearby. She could hear every word, clear as day. She could hear as the gunman miraculously dropped dead before anyone was hurt.

The reports continued to come. Reprehensible people throughout the world were dying, being purged from the world by an unseen hand, one people began calling Alcor. Pacifica began to fantasize about the same happening to her parents, the people who governed her life dropping like cut puppets, finally seen for the monsters they were.

People claimed it was impossible, that no one could simply command people to die. But Pacifica believed. She just knew that if she could only find a way to communicate with Alcor, he'd set her free, he'd make them pay.

She watched some fool in a purple suit attempt to challenge Alcor's power, and she laughed when he died.

She behaved like a model plaything, earning back her online privileges. She constructed new masks, lies in name only, and connected with others who shared her faith, others who understood Alcor was only a danger to the wicked.

She watched as the crime rate continued to drop, and the law's frustration continued to grow. She didn't worry, Alcor was far too clever and far too powerful to be caught.

She released a new album, and dedicated it to Alcor before anyone could stop her.

She sat in a group chat as someone proposed making a website to aid Alcor, a place where snakes like her parents could be exposed before him. She supported the idea wholeheartedly, and swayed the hesitant to agree.

She asked her parents to smile for the camera, then posted their images on the newly minted site. She spent hours debating the best way to sum up their crimes, to make Alcor see them as she had.

She spent every day afterward watching her parents, waiting to see their faces as they finally tasted justice. But they didn't die.

She began to despair, spending each moment of solitude pleading for Alcor to set her free. And yet every day she awoke within the same prison, the mask tighter than before.

Then, at last, it happened. Her agent approached her after a concert and informed her that her parents had been in a head-on collision with another vehicle on their way home. Thank goodness she knew how to act, or she may not have been able to hide her rejoicing.

The world called it an accident, but she knew better. It was Alcor, it had to be. He'd just decided she was special enough to kill her tormentors in a less obvious fashion. How considerate of him.

It was that day that Pacifica knew. She would do anything for Alcor. So when a notebook arrived in her mailbox with the instruction to kill, she had no choice.

She owed him everything.


Thank you everyone for reading! If you enjoyed this and haven't checked out the main story from this AU, I highly recommend it.

To all my loyal Little Black Book readers: I'm in the process of finalizing the outline for Book 2, so if there are any characters or ideas you really want to see, please PM me and I'll try to fit them in. If I can't, I'll try and do a one-shot. In the meantime, consider this a sort of trailer for what's to come.

I hope to see you all again! - Azarath Cat

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