#cypherlune

It was supposed to be a normal day. Evelyn was in the car with her adoptive parents, on her way to the arcade for her 9th birthday party. It was pretty far, as their mansion was in the middle of nowhere, for privacy. She’d been living with Mr. And Mrs. Lune for 7 years now, ever since her plane to Florida with her real parents was crashed in North Carolina. They had adopted her into their wealthy family, and she’d lived a mostly happy life since. Her older sister, well, her adoptive parent’s daughter, Rory, had decided to stay home and study instead of going to the party. Evelyn didn’t mind. And later on she was immensely glad Rory had chosen to do this. “Are we there yet?” Evelyn asked with a chipper voice, her French-Canadian accent dull, but noticeable. She’d been born in Niagara Falls, Canada, and had lived in Montreal until she was two. French was her first language, but she spoke English and Spanish equally well. This was a result of her biological parents being French Canadian and Latina. Two languages learnt before English. What a plus to her already gifted mind. “Not yet Evy” Her adoptive mother, Kendra, said softly. She turned back to face the little Evelyn, who’s shoulder-length messy brown hair was blown in her face. “Oh sweetie. Your hair is so messy! I’ll have to brush it when we get to the arcade” Kendra said with a chuckle. Her adoptive dad, Jason, was at the wheel, and looked back to see her hair for a brief moment. “Oh yes, we’ll definitely have to brush that Evy.” He said with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to brush it! I can do it myself.” “Evelyn Lune, you have to look somewhat presentable for the party! We can’t have you running around looking disheveled. It’s a disgrace to your fathers company.”

Her mother sighed. This was a regular occurrence. She refused to have anyone but herself brush her hair. Evelyn was mature for her age, but was a ticking time bomb of energy. She was so unpredictable at times. As they turn to drive onto a sideroad, Evelyn smiles at her mother as she turns to look out front again. She was happy. This would be such an amazing party, all her friends were coming, and it was at an arcade, which was a plus. They drive down the sideroad. All was well. Until it wasn’t. Evelyn felt a strong force shove her car to the side, forcing the car to do several rolls across the pavement into a ditch. She screamed for help. When she opened her eyes, her car was upside down, she had been thrown out of the car in the commotion. She felt blood run down her right hand and took a look. Her hand was gone. She screamed in pain. She had never seen, felt, or heard anything like that force on her car. She got up on shaky legs and went to check the car to see if her parents were still alive. “Mom? Dad? Please….” She begged. But she collapsed on the dirt. Her legs were weak. She didn’t have a right hand, and her face hurt. No, everything hurt, not just her face. “Please…. Not you guys too….” She said, tears rolling down her face in agony. She’d just lost her other parental figures. What more could she lose? Her vision was blurring slowly, but the last thing she saw before her world went dark were two people in black tactical gear standing over her. All she heard was, “Pack her up. We could use young blood for the program.”

“Are the adults dead?” The other guy said in a raspy voice.

“Yep. Mission complete”

“Pick up the kid. She can’t be their blood. Must be adopted. Doesn’t look anything like them”

It was Evelyn’s birthday. She hadn’t told you until a couple days before, and she had honestly forgotten about it. So It kind of surprised you when you got an invite in your email, inviting you to her party. She had labeled it as a semi-formal event, stating, “You can wear pajamas if you want”. But you decided to look somewhat nice, just to make her happy. She has decorated her very large penthouse apartment in downtown Manhattan, to be in all of her favourite colours. Blacks, turquoises, and teals adorned the house, which left you wondering how the hell she decorated it all on her own. Truth is she didn’t, she had her friend Kloe help her, her spider-powers making it much easier to decorate. Neon blue lights and black balloons decorated the area, confetti and streamers strewn everywhere. Music was playing loudly on the speakers.

One of Evelyn’s cats, Mavis, was sitting on the DJ table, her tail flicking as she ‘supervised’ the party. Evelyn hadn’t appeared yet, so you just walked in, and noticed the huge table that was adorned with hundreds of types of food, most of them Evelyn’s favourites. There were about 20 boxes of pizza on part of it, paper plates at the bottom. Overall, it's a pretty well planned out party, and you are just waiting for Evelyn to show. 

Evelyn found it so easy to get lost in the moment sometimes. Problems would arise, and she would deal with them. It was her job, after all. But sometimes it was just such a monotonous routine that she had to follow. Whenever she couldn’t sleep, she’d be up in her room at her work desk, dealing with some tech thing and drinking alcohol or coffee, and sometimes both. Her nightmares were relentless. Way back when, she’d developed a device to help her when she was having a nightmare. A device that went on both of her hands, as even her metal hand can conduct her powers. A device that would completely if not totally restrict all use of her powers. This was because during her worst nightmares, she would accidentally injure herself with her abilities. So the gloves kept the power contained.

Eventually, the power bursts in the middle of the night stopped. So she put the gloves away, never to be seen again. But recently, her nightmares have been particularly bad. She has been up for days. Not sleeping at all. After all, she’ll just end up in the same place as always. Back in the spiral of her worst fears. So she stays up tinkering, building, coding. Anything to keep her mind off of the nightmares. So she went to find the gloves again. Because she accidentally blew up her wall in a nightmare, she has a scratch on her neck. It will definitely scar. But she doesn’t care. She found the gloves, and has them on at all times. You don’t know why, but they seem to be restricting something. She often winces in pain when she has to move, and you notice her tense-ness. She also has been less lively, her conversations short and only happening when she has to. She clearly has not slept either. Eventually, you decide to confront her about this, worried for her health.