This takes place in an AU. No super powers for our heros here. Unless you count hotness on Derek's part. Everyone is about 7 or 8 years older than they are in the books.

I don't own darkest powers.

I looked up at the big building and my stomach churned. I didn't know if I would have been better off if I'd eaten anything for breakfast. Maybe something in my stomach would help settle it. My stomach gave another panicked clench. Nope if I had eaten anything it probably would have come up. Wouldn't that make the best impression on my potential employers?

This was a unique opportunity and I'd do anything not to blow it. I was a new college graduate with a degree less marketable than English or sociology. I went to school for screen writing, but it's not really an occupation where jobs grow on trees. It's a lot of hard work and a lot of luck to get your scripts noticed, and though my dad was always willing to help me out I really wanted to do it on my own. In order to do that, I needed a job. One with benefits and a steady paycheck. This one seemed tailor fit to me. It wasn't screen writing but it was as close as you could get in the real world. An up and coming computer game developer was looking for someone to help with story lines for their games.

I squared my shoulders and went in. A quick look at the list of the buildings occupants and I found Design Sorcery was on the thirteenth floor. I know the number thirteen was considered unlucky by most, but in my work I focused on horror. To me it seemed like a good omen. I looked at my watch. I had ten minutes before the interview. I forced myself to wait three minutes before going upstairs. Obviously you should never be late for an interview, but I'd read that being too early gave a bad impression also. Five minutes before the interview seemed to be the ideal time according to the blogs I'd read. I took another deep breath and headed over to the bank of elevators.

I was concentrating on where I was going and my nerves were only letting me think about one thing at a time. I didn't notice the man barreling in the same direction until it was too late. Thinking back, I don't know how I did miss him. He was huge. Well over six feet tall, bulky and carrying a stack of boxes with things sticking out every way. He obviously didn't see me. He probably couldn't. Even in my three inch interview heels, I barely topped five feet, and the stack of boxes was piled high. It probably cut off all of his periphery vision.

I tried to avert my path at the last minute, but I've never been what one would consider graceful. And while my shoes were hot hot hot, they weren't exactly styled with traction in mind. One foot slipped out from underneath me and the other one kept going in the same direction it was originally headed. I'd just made my self a larger target. Much harder to miss. The crash was inevitable.

I landed on the floor surrounded by the boxes. Two of them burst open and there were small mechanical parts everywhere. Only the man remain standing.

He swore viciously. Under his dark messy hair his face was growing red. That made the bright green eyes that were glaring at me stand out even more. "Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"I-I-I-I'm s-s-s-"

He cut me off "Save it." He crouched down and started picking up parts and putting them back into boxes. I took a quick survey of myself. The skirt of my suit was hiked up to mid-thigh. A huge run in my nylons started just under my knee and disappeared beneath my skirt. I could feel half of my super fine hair had fallen from the french twist I had it in. I had a suspicious looking grease spot smeared across my jacket. This one confused me. The glass and marble lobby of the building looked spotless. I glanced back over at my attacker. Yep. Found the source of the grease. He was wearing torn jeans and a big t-shirt covered in what looked like greased hand streaks. I looked at the competent hands snatching up different pieces. The fingertips were all smudged black with grease.

I stood up, and immediately crouched back down to help pick up the pieces. He glared at me again. "Just leave them. I think you've done enough damage."

I started to stammer out another apology, but it was obvious by the way he was ignoring me he didn't want to hear it. So I gave up. I glanced at my watch again. Crap. The interview was in three minutes.

I carefully picked my way out of the mess of parts on the floor, and walked back over to the elevator. I pushed the button to go up, and got in as soon as the doors opened. The last thing I saw before the doors slid shut was one final glare from the man picking his parts up off the floor.