(Based off of a story on Quotev called Watch Out for Juliet by Liviiiiiiiiii)

You stand on top of a rock, your hands straight down and pointed to the ground. Then, dramatically, you lift your hands outward and then point them up. The long, velvet cape moves with your movements. You stare out at the town, looking down at the people who will become your victims. 

You are obsessed with theatre and musicals of all kind. Your favorite works being that of Shakespeare and his art from a million of centuries ago. To what you would think would be lost with time, you remember vividly.

So, thinking of a script in your head, you slide down the rocks on your steampunk pumps before reaching the hard ground. Then, as you make your way to the small town, you can't see a sight of anybody of importance. Which slightly saddens you. But as you eyes catch somebody with a big pouch of coins, you bring the script back. 

Standing in an alleyway, you begin to sob hysterically. This gets the attention of the money-rich passerby. He walks into the alley, hands out to comfort you.

"Are you okay?" He asks. You let out a small smile, covering one of your eyes with your hand.

"My dearest Romeo tried to poison me. Doesn't he know that's not apart of the script at all?" You let out, no longer crying, but laughing. The man realized the trap and tried to run back. But you were faster. You jumped up, kicking the side of his head and pinning his skull to the wall with your heel. You lean forward, foot still to his head, as you tag the bag from his hand. You can hear the chattering of the coins. 

Then, off of the script, somebody comes into the alleyway. The person seemed to have heard the commotion. The person was quick to pin you to the wall, making you drop the money. They completely caught you off guard. It wasn't because of how fast they are, or how strong they are. They caught you off guard by their beauty. The blue eyes that glared at you. The man you originally attacked ran away, leaving the money. It's mine now, you think. 

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed beauty asked. Your eyes look down at him as you inhale a sharp breath.

"Are you familiar with the story of Macbeth?" You return. By the look on his face, you can tell he didn't.

"Who are you?" He repeated. You think of a name, matching your infamous Romeo story. "Juliet," you lied. He believed you. Tragic. You gaze at your surroundings. It's an alleyway, there's nothing important. Bags of equipment; pliers; trash bags. Nothing useful, right? "It's such a shame you haven't heard of Hamlet. It's a lovely story. I was going to explain my plan but I won't spoil it," you tease. Your eyes look away, staring out into the forest. This moment is better than you act. You're enjoying this more than anything. You've never been interrogated like this before. It's fun.

"What happens in Macbeth?" He asks. You smirk, bending your knee. "What happens in Macbeth?" you laugh, "it's what is going to happen to you." You kick Maven off, putting your hands on his shoulders to put him down. He fights back, grabbing your wrist. With your other hand, you grab the nearest tool you can use as a weapon. A shovel. Covered with dirt and junk, you put it to Maven's neck. His hand, still on your wrist, begins to heat up. It becomes so hot you are forced to attempt to squirm away from him. You put the shovel deeper into his neck. But... you don't have the will to kill him. Just staring into his crystal blue eyes makes you weak. You growl, closing your eyes and throwing the shovel away. When he squeezes his hand around your wrist, you audible show your pain. Your eyes water, one of your hands goes on his. To a surprise for you, he lets you go. Your burnt wrist shows the decaying layers of flesh he destroyed. You back up, your back hitting a wall as you clench the wrist. You try to remain strong, but the pain is too much. In the corner of your eye, you see him walking closer to you. You take this as a threat.

"Don't you dare!" You yell before running, climbing on top of a pile of boxes and quickly grabbing ahold of a rooftop. You pull yourself up, almost slipping from the pressure you're putting on your weak hand. And once you get up, you run. You jump roofs until you find a perfectly flat one. There, you rest, healing your wrist that is stained with silver blood. Your cape is stained with dirt. And you think. You've forgotten the money. That doesn't matter to you anymore, the experience is key. That was the most fun thing you've ever experienced. You can't wait to find him again.

(I just want to let yall know this has the same fucking word count as my Sleep songfic eijfbwejb)