It was a calm, normal night in the town of Quiet Rock, the little villa nary having a populace of a thousand people. A bright, full moon cast its' glow of silver light upon a young teenage girl that stormed into her home seething with anger and covered in sewage. This young girl happened to be named Edna McCoy, and her last sane nerve had just snapped...
"How was the mall, dearie?" called a female voice from out of the kitchen.
"FUCKIN'. TERRIBLE."
Into the kitchen went Edna's soaked form, her clothes stinking of rot and covered in an odd green slime that clung to every last inch of her, her face scrunched up into that of pure rage. The voice that had called out earlier happened to be her mother, and she raised a quizzical eyebrow at her daughter.
"What happened to you?" Laura asked, returning to cooking dinner for her family of three. Her husband would not be there that night, for he was much too busy poisoning himself with alcohol at a local bar just after his divorce. He was happy about it too.
"Heather fucking Miles. That's what happened, " Edna replied as she grabbed a towel from the counter and tried her very best to wipe away the filth that seemed to have taken a liking to being glued to her skin. "I was hanging out with my friends, enjoying some of that gross food court junk..."
Edna growled as a large, unknown black clump was yanked out of the mass of red frizz she called hair.
"When Heather fucking Miles decides to tell a couple of her dumb jock boy toys to throw a bucket of garbage on me. I didn't even know where they got it from!"
Edna screeched in pain as she ripped off one of the custarded pieces of goop from her forearm. Her mother's face was still questioning, but Laura remained silent as she pulled meat loaf from the oven.
"I just don't know what to do with you, Edna..." Laura mumbled, returning to a mindless humming tune to further block out any conversation with her troubled daughter.
It had always been like this ever since the divorce. Edna would come home with a problem, and Laura would ignore it. She only believed in a happy world and happy stuff with her happy children. Like her son, Ralph. He was always doing well in sports.
With a sigh and an angered expression, Edna stomped off towards her only sanctuary - the basement. Nobody else would bother her in there. On the way to her place of seclusion, her brother slid by her in the hallway, almost gagging and vomiting at the smell coming from her. That got her to smile a bit.
"Sweet freakin' Christ, what happened to you?!" Ralph said, covering his mouth and nose with his hand, tears of pain about to roll down his face.
"Heather. Fucking. Miles," was all she replied before pulling the door to the basement open, entering, and slamming it shut, the distinct sound of a lock clicking echoing in her wake.
Edna clicked on a naked lightbulb, the artificial yellow glow illuminating the innards of her workshop, dust motes lazily floating in and out of the light produced. A pile of abandoned comics and manga filled one corner, a workbench with various tool and appliances took up one wall. This was her goal.
Edna approached the workbench slowly, as if almost in reverence. What laid on this table was the fruit of many months spent toiling away in the dark, all of her anger combined into one hope. Despite the heat of the underground dwelling, she felt almost relaxed as her hand picked up a small device in the shape of a child's toy pistol, shiny chrome in color and cool to the touch, on the side, two buttons and two dials corresponding to those buttons. She grinned almost wickedly as she held it up to the light, examining it as a prize won.
"Heather Miles...." Edna whispered to herself before whipping around and pulling the trigger of the gun. A bright green beam erupting from the barrel and blasting the pile of comics.
In a flash, they were gone.
Edna walked over to where the pile had once been, bent down, and picked up what seemed to be a bunch of books meant to be held by a doll.
"...you are fucked."
Edna grinned.