Prologue:

It was night, and Calliope was painstakingly adding in some of the last details to her latest creation. Her joints were going white as she unthinkingly tightened her grip on the brush. It had to be perfect. It had been specially commissioned by a darling Miss Lalonde. Besides which, the task simply refused to leave her mind until it was done! She was so fully immersed in her work that she could almost stop feeling her aches, and how her skin hugged her bones too tight for comfort. She didn't even notice the odd metallic smell that had wafted sneakily into the room, nor did she hear approaching painting was of deceased mother Rose Lalonde, and Calliope had high hopes for it.

The door to the cramped study flew open and smashed into the wall. It caused the pots of water to clatter and unsettled the framed artworks. Calliope dropped her paint brush unceremoniously on the floor, spinning to met the face of her twin brother despite the toll it took on her muscles. Her face became painted in horror at the sight of him standing there, just a few feet away and barely visible by candlelight. She raised her voice as loudly as it could go and hoped that it would carry through the thin walls.

"What in the bloody hell could have possibly possessed you to come here?!" she demanded, growing increasingly alarmed. She fumbled around, hands searching her study desk, gaze transfixed on the shadowed face of her all too familiar intruder.

"Leave me alone! Please, go away. Oh no!"

Caliborn was a pest. A petulant zit planted firmly on the indignant arse of humanity. Roxy often told Calliope that she considered him to be the literal opposite in personality to her, and found herself immensely flattered. For too long had Calliope put up with his insults, crude games, and shitty assassination attempts before she decided one fateful chess game that no. Fuck it. She was done. She was through humoring his juvenile antics! Roxy immediately offered Calliope a place to stay.

That was of no surprise - Roxy was her best friend! And by best friend the author obviously meant they choose the rainbow road in Mario Kart as obvious symbolism for their abundant lesbifriendism. Roxy was also rather lonely since her mother died - the house was incredibly isolated among the trees, without many other humans in sight, and could accommodate at least a family of four.

One thing it would NOT accommodate was buttzits. And yet...

"Hadn't I already mentioned. That I was looking forward to when you were dead? And that I was going to be. The one to do it?"

The way he stopped and started at every fucking clause usually did nothing but stick on Calliope's nerves like a particularly loathsome wart that refused to go away - no matter the ointment used - and constantly interfering with menial tasks when it was least expected. Right now it set her even more on edge. It was comparable to a roller-coaster that moved unpredictably, stopping and starting at the worst times, the more cowardly passengers wishing it would either keep moving or stop entirely. She strained herself to hear any movement in the house between pauses. Nothing.

"Oh, that is such nonsense! It's been years, I find it difficult to believe that even you haven't matured a little. Consider the deed unnecessary - I am already dying, and I am accompanied by a lovely hospice nurse to watch me do so."

Her hand caught on a drawer and she opened it - surely he couldn't see it in this dark! However, she hadn't accounted for the noise. Wood scraped across wood (no homo) and Caliborn's eyes snapped to the source.

'Oh no, don't come any closer!"

"Just because every other time I said I was going to kill you. I didn't kill you. Doesn't mean I wasn't going to all along." At this point, Calliope was scrambling the contents of the drawer to find her pistol. But now Caliborn had moved closer into the light, and she could see a rifle, which he appeared to have no trouble holding. There was also blood - and she couldn't tell if it was his. It wasn't his rifle. It was too pink to be his rifle. Her light source wasn't as warm as it could have been.

They both opened fire.