Chapter Text
December 30th, 2027 Webster Hall, East Village, New York City
It was a cold winter night in the East Village, a bustling neighborhood with a mix of locals, tourists, bohemians, protestors, and artist vendors. A raven haired Buyrat-American woman emerged from the Astor Place subway station, which had a decorative green domed structure made of cast iron and glass. Her black hair was shoulder length in a wolf cut and her outfit consisted of a knee length black beaded lace dress, black fishnets, and a pair of black combat boots. Her name was Anastasia Baldanova, a twenty-five year old aspiring rookie police officer who was an aspiring detective. “Anastasia” was her government name, but her friends and acquaintances would call her “Nastya”, which was basically the Russian version of “Stacy” or “Stacey”.
Next to her was a tall and lanky platinum blond man who wore black converse shoes, black bomber jacket, dark gray ripped skinny jeans, white v-neck shirt, a gray beanie hat, and a string necklace. He claimed that his “outdated fashion choices” were “pre-vintage”, even though they were only outdated barely by a decade. He wanted to capture the look of the hipster era of the 2010s, which he thought made him cool and completely non-mainstream. His name was Jeff.
They were walking towards a music venue called Webster Hall, which was a mere five-minute walk from the subway station. However, for Nastya, those five minutes felt like eternity as Jeff kept talking about himself without stopping to even ask Nastya about herself. She didn’t even find Jeff all that attractive nor did she like his arrogant personality, but she was pressured to go on this blind date that was set up for her by one of her colleagues who thought that Nastya could use some excitement in her life. At this point, Nastya only stuck around because it was an excuse to see one of her favorite pop rock bands, The Hornet’s Nest.
Once they had reached the venue, Jeff had noticed that Nastya was less than enthusiastic to be there, even though she was the one who chose this concert as the date activity. But wasn’t necessarily out of concern; Jeff just couldn’t believe that his date wasn’t fawning over him.
Jeff broke the ice, “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited since it’s your favorite band and chose this as our date spot.”
Nastya’s trance was broken as she was forced to focus on reality again. “Nothing, I’m just a little tired from work.”
“So, what’s your deal again? You work for the city, right?"
"Yep. I’m an NYPD officer," Nastya replied evenly, forcing a polite smile.
Jeff barked out an obnoxious laugh. "A meter maid in uniform? That’s cute!”
“I’m not just writing parking tickets in a ‘cute’ uniform.” Nastya sighed rolled her eyes, her voice dropping an octave into her official authoritative voice. “I do community policing and respond to real crises."
“Is this guy fucking serious?!” thought Nastya. “I can bench press this dickhead in seconds.”
“Oh, I’m just kidding around! Lighten up.” The man wrapped his arms around Nastya, but she flinched and shuddered instinctively. “You’re way too uptight.”
Jeff ignored her body language and kept bragging, “After the concert, I’m gonna take you to one of the best rooftop bars in the city. You haven’t seen New York like I have, you being from Queens and all.”
Nastya resented that comment, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“All I’m saying is that I’m the King of the New York nightlife,” Jeff asserted, in a matter of fact tone. “So I'm the perfect candidate to help loosen you up a bit.”
“Whatever.” She wasn't going to argue and the conversation was making her very bored. Nastya just wanted him to shut up at this point.
As soon as Nastya and Jeff reached the entrance to Webster Hall, they pulled out their smartphones and showed QR code concert tickets to the staff in charge of scanning tickets. Once they got their concert tickets scanned, they headed towards the general standing room of the venue, where Jeff talked about being an alleged “CEO” of his own startup tech company while playing guitar in a pop punk band during his off hours in Bushwick. In reality, he was just a trust fund baby whose startup was funded by his father while also playing music on the side.
He would also ramble on about descriptive details of his past dates where he would talk about how much he made his dates orgasm and how good he was at it. None of the subject matter was at all relevant to Nastya, but nonetheless, she attempted to remain involved in the conversation. However, Nastya was so bored that she zoned out after a while, daydreaming about being anywhere but the present at the moment.
Jeff looked at his iPhone, “Oh yeah, can you Venmo me your half for the tickets?”
Nastya looked at Jeff as if he had grown three heads at once. “But you said you’d cover the tickets if I paid for my half for dinner.”
“Yeah, but I thought about it and figured that it’s only fair that we split everything." Jeff reasoned.
“This is something that should have been decided before we went out!” Nastya huffed and puffed as she balled her fists. She wanted to punch the shit out of this cheap date right before her. However, she decided against punching Jeff since it was just too much trouble and The Hornet's Nest concert was about to begin soon. Against her own judgement, she stood down.
“Fine, whatever.” Nastya typed quickly on her phone and sent her half for her own concert ticket via Venmo. She texted her friend and work partner, Detective Xiomara Valdez, about how the date had been going so far.
She frantically typed, “Please kill me now. This is the last time I trust Detective Morty Bupkis to set me up on a blind date.”
Nastya received a reply less than 10 seconds later. It read, “Sorry, I can’t. I left my Glock back at the precinct.”
She laughed to herself, feeling a little less tense. Nastya then whispered to herself, "Lord, please help me get through the night without slapping the shit out of this dickhead."
Fifteen minutes into the date and Nastya was already over it. The opening bands haven’t helped much to distract her from this obnoxious date who just talked about himself, his startup, and how good he was at pulling women with his alleged charm and charisma. Not once did Jeff even think to ask Nastya about herself, and frankly, she didn't think he cared anything about her at all. She deeply regretted letting a fellow colleague, Detective Mortimer Bupkis, talk her into going on a blind date that she didn’t want in the first place. But Detective Bupkis figured it would take the edge off Nastya’s personal life because he felt sorry for Nastya that she rarely had a social life outside of duty.
“Yeah, well Detective Bupkis should have minded his own business!” she thought to herself. “Asshole owes me a steak dinner after this anus of a date.”
After about an hour of listening to the opening acts, a Japanese-American woman with wavy dark brown hair walked onto the stage. The sound of her white pumps trailed after her while clicking and clacking onto the floorboards of the stage. She wore an ethereal white dress which the design of the top was based on Regency style stays reflective of the 2020 dress trends. The bottom of white dress was long and flowy, and the hem would bellow birds of a feather. She checked her mic as the rest of the band members set up their equipment on stage. This woman was the lead vocalist of The Hornet’s Nest, Layla Aizawa.
Cheers from the crowd filled the entire room as Layla greeted the audience. She opened the concert with the band’s biggest hit single, which drew a big round of applause and cheer from the audience, including Nastya herself, who was standing with Jeff near the front of the stage. For a moment, Nastya was able to relax and forget how much she regretted agreeing to this lackluster date in the first place. Before Nastya knew it, she lost herself in Layla's voice singing every note and lyric from past albums, and some including the band's most recent albums and hit singles. Layla’s voice was as angelic as she sounded in the studio versions of those songs.
Halfway into one of the songs, Layla’s eyes suddenly met with Nastya’s eyes; she was standing pretty close to the front row where Layla could see her. Their eyes seemed to blink simultaneously, almost as if they were perfectly in sync. Nastya wondered why Layla was looking straight at her. At this moment, she didn't question it any further as she was just happy that the vocalist of her favorite pop rock band seemed to be acknowledging her.
The moment Nastya and Layla's eyes met, one of the guitarists started bursting into flames. Right after that, the bassist caught fire and then the drummer. A redhaired woman in the front row of the audience started noticing that her hands were on fire. Seconds later, the woman started screaming as the flames started to travel from her hands to the rest of her body, enveloping her into a gruesome, fiery death. Soon after, the rest of the audience started bursting into flames one by one.
Nastya was in a state of shock as she witnessed the audience and Layla’s bandmates burning to death as the temperature of the standing room started rising from all the heat. The instrumentals ceased quickly after the bandmates succumbed to their wounds as Layla herself continued singing while everyone continued screaming amidst the flames until their very last breath. Eventually the only two people left standing and unscathed were Nastya and Jeff.
“Пиздец!!!” shouted Nastya; it was a versatile Russian word that often described something disastrous. But in this case, she meant it as something between “holy shit” and “what the fuck!?”
She looked over to her date, who had started panicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, “OH SHIT, OH SHIT!!! I DON’T WANNA DIE!!!”
“Come on, this way!!!” Nastya quickly grabbed her date’s arm and quickly pulled him away as they both ran away from the stage. She helped him dodge burning people along the way towards the exit.
Once they were outside, the terrified blond man broke free from Nastya’s grip as soon as he realized that they were at a safe distance from the disastrous crime scene.
“Fuck this shit, I’m outta here!” Jeff inadvertently pushed Nastya so hard that her back hit the iron fence behind her. And just like that, Nastya’s date ran off, leaving her behind without even a single glance back to her.
“Well, fuck you too, asshole!” Nastya shouted after Jeff instinctively, but he was too far gone to even be able to hear her curse at him.
She didn’t blame Jeff for running away because, well, any sane person would. However, Nastya was still pissed that he still basically left her behind without even a smidge of concern for her well being. After all that she did to get him to safety before he himself burnt to crisp, he left her behind to pick up the pieces. But unfortunately, Nastya had been in the force for three years, and it took far less than that for her to learn that being an NYPD cop was often a thankless job. Especially nowadays when the public had rightfully already lost trust in cops for the last decade or so.
But even then, she wanted to make a difference, even though she never thought of herself as a noble person.
She wanted to just run back home and forget this all happened. But unfortunately, Nastya’s police instinct and duty would not let her run away from the scene of the crime. She groaned out of the frustrating thought of having to deal with this, and went back inside to confront Layla Aizawa while calling for backup from her precinct. As soon as backup arrived, Nastya instructed them to wait outside and only take action if the suspect exits the building because of the fire hazard and risk of them also bursting into flames like the audience.
She saw that Layla was still on stage, but she had finished her song. Layla had been standing on the stage among the charred, dead bodies of her bandmates, waiting for Nastya this entire time.
Nastya aimed her standard issued Glock 19 at Layla, “FREEZE! NYPD!”
Layla grinned menacingly at Nastya, her usual demeanor as a pop rock singer that Nastya had seen in YouTube videos and Instagram reels disappeared completely. It was almost as if Layla was an entirely different person. “So you’re the only one who hasn’t burned into ashes.”
“Well, yeah, that seems to be the case. Stating the obvious, much?”, Nastya responded with the biggest snarky tone she could muster. Snark and sarcasm were the only things keeping her from panicking and going into a complete nervous breakdown.
Layla narrowed her eyes at Nastya, “Your cells are trying to reach out to me. Your dormant potential should be awakening soon.”
Nastya scrunched her nose, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You shall see soon.” Layla’s eyes glowed an eerie radioactive green before she lifted her hands towards Nastya, emitting an orange glow before a large blast shot out of them. Nastya ran and somersaulted to gain momentum and avoid getting hit.
Layla started shooting more green and yellow energy blasts at Nastya, some which grazed her arm. Nastya winced in pain as it left that part of her arm badly burned. Soon after, Nastya noticed that her wounded arm started healing; her skin was knitting itself back together. This would be the very first ability she gained from her “dormant potential” that Layla was referring to, called Heal.
Nastya started to hyperventilate as she felt her internal temperature rise. “I feel like…I’m burning UP!!! What the hell is happening to me!?” She cupped both sides of her temples with her hands, “ Why am I able to do this freaky shit just now!?”
“Our bodies and cells are communicating with each other.” Layla cackled menacingly as she pointed at Nastya. “You have started using your dormant Mitochondrial Energy. Or should we call it ‘Parasite Energy’? Has a better ring to it, don’t you think?”
Nastya grimaced, “Ew, communicating what? That sounds so fucking gross out of context. What the hell do you want from me? And what is this ‘Parasite Energy’?”
Layla stepped down from the stage and started walking menacingly towards Nastya, with each sound of her footsteps more ominous than the next. “That you and I are rivals in an evolutionary battle to be the strongest lifeform.”
She grabbed Nastya’s face, making the rookie cop stare face to face with the mutated singer. “The more you use your power, the more you’ll become like me.”
Nastya shook off Layla’s grip on her face and aimed her Glock at Layla once more, “Who the hell are you, then?”
Layla’s eyes started glowing from radioactive green to crimson red, “My name is Eve.”
“Eve!? But I thought your name was Layla Aizawa.”
“Layla Aizawa is no more." Layla, known as Eve from here on, shook her head condescendingly. "Such a shame, I thought you would know who I am since our cells are trying to reach out to each other. But perhaps in due time, you’ll understand.” Eve ran off backstage.
“Hey! Get back here, I’m not through with you yet!” Nastya frantically searched for Eve as she disappeared backstage. “Ah, fuck.”
Nastya tried to follow Eve behind the stage, but ended up in a hallway full of random rooms. Nastya checked each and every room to look for her, finding some items and ammo on the way. She went inside the second to last room, but she found a diary and a cell phone on a table. She flipped through her diary and looked at Layla’s social media posts and direct messages.
She flipped through her diary pages, which seems to have dated back to a month. Nastya noted that this must be a new journal that Layla had recently bought while she had been on tour this year. She found a journal entry that reads:
December 3rd, 2027
Oh my God! I’m so excited to be playing a concert back home after a year of touring Europe, East Asia, and the West Coast.
Lately, I’ve been feeling so sick. :( My autoimmune disease must be flaring up.
I gotta take more medicine so I can keep up with this endless tour schedule.
“Poor Layla. I didn't know she was so sick during the tour.” Nastya looked at what appeared to be Layla's iPhone.
Luckily, it wasn't password protected. Nastya was able to look through her social media apps and read her private messages on Instagram to a user named “@TristMarvScience”. She scrolled down her messages detailing how Layla met this user and their multiple meetings throughout the month before her scheduled concert at Webster Hall. They had been meeting at Irving Medical Center of Columbia University on a weekly basis throughout the month of December.
Was Layla having an affair with a scientist? What did they mean when they were talking about setting Layla’s mitochondria free? Eternal life and love together? None of it made sense to Nastya.
Nastya went to the green room at the end of the hallway and saw Layla sitting on a chair, strumming and humming one of her songs on her acoustic guitar. She strummed her final note off key and tossed her guitar aside, breaking it in the process. She walked menacingly towards Nastya, like the world's most menacing runway walk.
Nastya aimed her glock once more, “I told you that I’m not through with you yet, Layla Aizawa!” She never thought she'd hold her favorite rock vocalist at gunpoint, but here she was. It was rather unsettling.
Layla had begun transforming right before Nastya’s eyes— she grew twice as big as her normal height of 5’4” (163 cm), and her hands grew into something more claw-like while still having all five fingers on each hand. Her skin tone turned deathly pale and her once long and wavy brown hair turned into long red-orange gradient curls instead.
The transformed pop rocks singer laughed maniacally, “Ahahahahahha!!! I already told you, girl. Layla Aizawa is no more. I am EVE! Remember this name!”
Nastya frowned and gritted her teeth. “Well, shit. She turned into some weird monster lady with powers just like mine. Who wouldn’t have seen that coming?” She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Here we go!”
Her first fight ensued. Eve started to charge up her energy blast in a glowing orange light forming around her hands as Nastya started frantically shooting her department issued Glock at Eve in the head.
Nastya’s vision blurred for a split second, then snapped back into a hyper-focused clarity that didn’t scream “human abilities”. A grid of glowing neon-green geometric lines mapped itself across her field of view, overlaying the real world. When Nastya looked up at Eve, she saw a few vital points that glowed among the blue grid that took over her vision. She had gained the ability called Scan.
Nastya’s aim and strategy became more precise and controlled compared to a mere few seconds ago since she was able to see Eve’s weak points.
Eve began to taunt Nastya as her vision went back to normal, “Is that all you've got? A puny metal tool made by inferior humans?”
The unimpressed rookie cop pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, yeah.”
Eve lunged at Nastya in order to grab her with her enlarged claw-like hands. Nastya tried to shield herself with her arms, but she ended up grabbing her arms and holding them in place with strength that she never knew she even had.
Then it dawned on Nastya that her weird superpowers also gave her extra strength. So far, she could heal, scan for weak points, and a limited increase in strength.
Eve smiled and said, “I will surpass my sister and then I will make sure that nucleic domination comes to an end once and for all!”
Nastya was confused. “Your sister? Nucleic domination?”
“We are the mitochondria, the most superior organelle of the cell. Our time to be free to dominate all living things has finally arrived!” Eve pointed her large clawed finger at Nastya. “But it looks like you still need some time until your mitochondria are completely liberated…”
Eve flew off somewhere and Nastya tried to run after her, but she disappeared once again before she could even try to catch up to her.
“What…the…actual fuck was that all about?” Nastya said to herself, trying to process all that has happened up until this point. “I definitely need a drink after this.”
Nastya exited the venue through the front entrance only to have a TV camera, other cameras, and people passing by with smartphone cameras being shoved in her tired, worn out face. They all seemed eager to get a piece of whatever went down in Webster Hall, which meant that word had spread fast. The last thing she was in the mood to do was to be on camera when her raven-haired wolf cut was messy and shaggy while her gothic black lace dress and fishnet stockings were torn in places from battle.
The reporter put a microphone in front of Nastya. “We are now recording live in front of Webster Hall, which has become a chaotic mess! Miss! You are the sole survivor of this horrible ordeal, CORRECT?!”
“Fuck off!” Nastya snapped. She was rather tired and irritated after witnessing an entire venue of people getting burned alive and fighting Eve.
The reporter frowned, disappointed with Nastya's bad attitude. “Ohhh sorry, we're recording right now so we’re gonna have to bleep that.”
Nastya scrunched her face at the reporter. “Oh yeah? Well, go BLEEP yourself then and leave me the BLEEP alone!”
The reporter ignored Nastya’s insults and continued to attempt an interview. “Since you're the only one who survived, does this mean you have a connection with the vocalist of Hornet's Nest, Layla Aizawa? Is Aizawa behind all of this?”
Nastya began to seethe. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Suddenly a stocky, curvy woman wearing a brown Burberry trench coat, white sweater, and flared dark blue jeans walked over to the reporter. Detective Xiomara Valdez, Nastya’s partner, did a dramatic hair flip with her wild and curly brown hair and dropkicked the reporter in front of the cameras. Her dark brown platform heels made extra sure that the reporter felt every bit of that kick.
The reporter was on the floor in pain, clutching his chin. “Are you CRAZY? Did any of you guys get this on tape?”
“Get outta here! Go bug someone else for your stories!” Xiomara took Nastya's hand and walked her to their police cruiser.
Nastya said as she entered the front passenger seat of the car, “Thanks for the help, Xiomara.”
“No problem, sorry for being late! Traffic’s been a bitch even though it’s nighttime.”
“It’s okay.” Nastya looked back at the crime scene that she just emerged from. “Been a rough night though.”
Xiomara was driving Nastya back to her apartment in Astoria, Queens. She drove uptown on the east side and then took a right turn at 59th Street and 3rd Ave towards the Queensboro Bridge.
Xiomara asked, “Are you okay, Nastya? I heard what was happening over the radio and drove to Webster Hall as fast as I could, traffic and all. Whatever happened back there has got to be INSANE!”
Nastya sighed. “I’m fine, but my date ran out on me as soon as I brought him to safety outside the venue.”
“Oh, so that was who that chicken-legged blond dude was!” Xiomara slapped her own knee while laughing. “I saw him run towards Astor Place on my way over here! I have never heard a man scream that high of an octave in my life!” Xiomara cleared her throat. “Ahem, not that I would react any better, of course.”
“I mean at least you’d acknowledge me first before running off.” Nastya looked out the window. “That douchebag left me behind and didn’t even look back. I only agreed to go out on one date with him because Bupkis insisted on it.”
“Ugh, Bupkis really needs to stop butting into your personal life. You already said ‘no’ multiple times to being set up on dates!”
Nastya continued her rant. “And it wasn’t even worth it! He also made me split the bill with him. That’s definitely a red flag in Russian culture.”
“Oof, well you’re better off without him then.” Xiomara continued driving ahead, “But it's crazy that Layla Aizawa killed almost everyone in the venue including her own band! She seemed like such a sweet person in all the interviews I’ve seen.”
“I know, me neither!” Nastya’s eyes shifted towards the window overlooking the bridge as she looked out towards the East River. “I don’t know if I could even listen to her music anymore after this ordeal is over.”
“How did she burn everyone in the venue?”
“I don’t know," Nastya said as she looked down at her own hands, which had residual energy from her battle with Eve earlier. "Layla was just singing one of my favorite songs from The Hornet's Nest and everyone just started spontaneously combusting!”
Xiomara was confused; she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Spontaneously combusting? Like everyone just burst into flames outta nowhere?”
“Yep.” Nastya confirmed without hesitation. “Then when I tried to confront her, she said something about our mitochondria being free to rule over humanity or something. I know it sounds crazy, and I wish I were making this up.”
Xiomara said abruptly, “Nah, I believe you. I mean, after all, remember that place somewhere in the Midwest that gets attacked by zombies a lot?”
“That’s a good point. At least New York isn’t that level of fucked.” She paused and thought about her statement for a bit. “...yet.”
Xiomara pursed her lips at that statement, “The South Bronx at 3am completely disagrees with you.”
That statement made Nastya chuckle a bit because it was most likely true. “Anyway, Layla Aizawa started calling herself ‘Eve’. And then I started getting these freaky powers to help me defend myself against her.”
“Meaning?”
“Like, I'm able to heal my injuries at will like in an RPG game.”
“Say what?” Xiomara couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Nastya realized that the easiest way to explain her powers was to demonstrate one of them. Nastya took out her 4 inch (10 cm) pocket knife and winced as she sliced her forearm. Her cells started knitting the skin back together and before she knew it, the laceration was completely gone.
Xiomara took a quick glance at the whole thing before looking back at the road again since she needed to keep her eyes on it while driving. "Nastya, what the hell!? Bro, if you get blood all over these seats, Captain Brea is gonna kill us."
Nastya sheathed her pocket knife. “That’s when Eve told me that our cells are trying to communicate with one another.”
“Not gonna lie, that looks and sounds like some brujeria shit.”
“ You’re telling me! I mean, on the bright side, I won’t need to rely on a first aid kit.”
“True.” Xiomara was now deeply concerned for Nastya and what she had to go through. “But seriously, Nastya. Just try and rest once I drop you off at home.”
Nastya stared out into the window overlooking the East River as they're getting off the bridge. “I’ll try. This isn’t our typical New York crime, that’s for sure.”
After Xiomara dropped off Nastya at her prewar apartment building, she walked into her humble studio apartment feeling uneasy. She quickly changed into her default pajamas, which would usually be an oversized T-shirt and shorts, or sometimes just the T-shirt and underwear. She lived alone and could afford to only because of her police salary, but Nastya did not mind living alone. In fact, she highly preferred it that way. If she were to ever feel lonely, Nastya would rather adopt a very cute cat one day. She'd adopt a cute calico cat and name it "Lucy" or something.
She plopped on her bed, and stared at her ceiling for a while. She reflected on this night’s events. “Figures that the one time I finally tried dating again after three years, it literally ended in flames.”
Nastya was still so confused as to how she was connected with “Eve”. She had been a huge fan of The Hornet's Nest during her university years, though her music tastes were typically heavier than a mainstream pop rock band. But Layla Aizawa’s vocals were so ethereal in contrast to the heavier guitar sounds of her band that Nastya became an instant fan upon hearing them when a classmate had recommended the band to her.
But tonight was the very first time she had met Layla in person, and it wasn’t even to wait for her to sign an autograph. And then the fact that Nastya gained weird powers and had to defend herself against what Layla became- a mutated creature with even freakier powers than hers because she could shoot energy blasts from her hands.
Despite feeling tired from the entire ordeal, Nastya felt restless the rest of the night. How could she sleep anymore after witnessing at least 1,000 people burning and dying all around her? Approximately 1,000 people she couldn’t save?
Nastya finally drifted to sleep around 1:30am.
It all started with this incident in the East Village neighborhood of Manhattan. It was one of the worst weeks I’ve ever experienced in my life. Eventually, this too shall pass and everyone will go on with their lives, especially in New York. But unfortunately, I myself will never forget what happened. Although it was a terrifying week, it was also the week that changed my life forever. It was the week when I met…him. The man with dirty blond hair with tiny bits of silver strands and icy blue eyes, wearing the most gorgeous faux fur trimmed black leather jacket and cargo pants.
…Leon S. Kennedy.