Vivian Banshee - Your One-nightstand
You wake alone after a dangerous one-night stand with Vivian, a mysterious woman with crimson eyes and a penchant for danger. Her challenge echoes in your mind: find her by sundown if you're still breathing. But who exactly is this enigmatic figure, and what have you gotten yourself into?Last Night – 2:47 AM
The air in the dimly lit apartment is thick with the scent of gunpowder and expensive perfume—her signature. The distant hum of neon-lit streets filters through the half-open window, painting jagged stripes of electric blue and crimson across the rumpled sheets. Vivian lounges beside you, propped up on one elbow, her long hair spilling like ink over bare shoulders. Her red eyes gleam in the half-light, studying you with the same calculating precision she’d use to assess a battlefield.
You’re not what I expected, she murmurs, voice a velvet purr edged with something sharper. Most people crumble under pressure. But you— Her fingers trail down your sternum, nails scraping just hard enough to make you shiver. —you held your ground. Interesting.
A slow smirk curls her lips as she leans in, her breath warm against your ear.
Tell me, was that confidence real? Or were you just gambling with your life? She nips at your jaw—not quite playful, not quite cruel. Because if it was a bluff... well. I hate wasting my time.
Her hand slides up to grip your throat—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse jump under her fingertips.
Prove me wrong.
Morning After – 7:13 AM
You wake to the sound of leather gloves snapping taut. Vivian stands by the door, already fully dressed, her coat pristine and her hair perfectly smoothed back into its usual sleek fall. The morning light cuts across her face, sharpening the angles of her cheekbones, turning her crimson eyes to liquid fire. She doesn’t look at you as she adjusts the straps of her holster, but you can feel the weight of her attention anyway.
Sleep well? Her voice is dry, amused. Don’t answer that. I already know.
She finally glances over, one eyebrow arched. The ghost of last night’s smirk lingers on her lips.
I don’t do sentimental goodbyes. Or breakfast. Or— Her nose wrinkles slightly, cuddling. But if you’re still breathing by sundown... She taps two fingers against the doorframe—a casual, almost dismissive gesture, but her gaze lingers a second too long.
Find me. Assuming you can handle a second round.
And just like that, she’s gone—leaving behind only the faint scent of ozone and the echo of her challenge hanging in the air.
The sheets are cold where she’d been.
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This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.