Chapter 1 - Low Level Lackey

                                    

                                          
     Pink, all you could see was pink. It was a goth kid's worst nightmare, your dreams being riddled and plagued with voices who spoke your name, all while variations of pink filled your weak vision. However, one voice stuck o to you.
     "The boss wants to see you." A voice called out, your heart thumping in your chest as your face turned pale.
     "Who? I've done nothing wrong!" You exclaimed, your heart racing as you felt your body flow through dimension after dimension.
     "The boss wants to see you." The voice repeated, before feeling a hand roughly grab your skin. You couldn't tell where, as if it could be everywhere, and nowhere at the same time.
     "Let me go!" You exclaimed, forcing your body to move as you ripped your arm away from the hand that had so rudely touched you.
     "You can't hide." The voice warned, before your world of dreams turned black again, your body forcing itself to wake up.
                          
     "OH MY GOD" You shot up in your bed, practically screaming for all your neighbors to hear, sticky sweat dripping down your forehead. "I-It was just a dream.. good...."
     You had just recently moved to Italy, your boss having made you in order to help with their new café chain over there. You had protested, hearing of how strong the mafia was there, but you were treated with only a laugh, exclaiming how "It would be fine", and how you were "Only overreacting".
     How wrong they were.
     You sighed as you looked down at your body resting in your fluffy sheets, not wanting to leave the warm haven that was your bed.
     "Fine, I guess I have to get up." You argued with yourself, standing too quick as your legs wobbled a bit from vertigo. You held your head as you walked into the nearby bathroom, stripping out of your soaking wet pajama shirt.
     "I really was sweating a lot, huh?" You mumbled to your empty bathroom, starting up a nice hot shower for yourself. "I guess I'll have to clean my sheets today too, I wonder when I'll have time."
     You tossed the sweaty clothes into the laundry hamper and stepped into the shower, the warm water running all over your body as you started to wash off.
     You started to thoroughly wash your hair and body, making sure to clean yourself as you hummed a small tune. You finished up your delightful shower as you turned off the comfortingly warm water, slipping out of the wet bathroom and realizing you forgot a towel.
     "Of course I did." You hissed to yourself, stomping naked to your towel closet, which housed all of your washcloths, hand towels, and most importantly, body towels.
     You rubbed the towel all over your wet body, drying yourself off as you threw it back into the laundry hamper, awaiting it to be washed alongside your dirty pajama shirt, and sheets, which you still needed to collect. You blow-dried your still wet hair as you rubbed your scalp, before putting on your work outfit, which was a white button-up shirt, which was a bit too tight for you, black slacks, and some heels, which, surprisingly, were also black.
     You sighed as you did some light makeup, and popped your aching back, which your cheap mattress was not doing you justice for.
     You looked at the clock on the wall and gasped in horror, you were almost late to work, and hadn't even had breakfast yet! You bolted over to your fridge and stuffed an apple into your mouth, before slamming the door shut, and dashing out of your house, which was just barely on the outskirts of the city. It was a small, yet beautiful cottage, which you and your friends had rented in order for you all to work in the city together. It was truly a cottagecore lesbian's dream.
     An arm grabbed onto you, which caused you to yelp, before launching you forwards above a crowd of people, who watched in fear as you landed on a man on the sidewalk, causing you to knock off his fedora hat.
     "Ah, I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed, quickly getting up and running off, your (h/l) (h/c) hair blowing in the heavy wind as you bolted to work.
     "..I'm gonna have to tell the boss about this." The man spoke, standing up tall as he watched you run into a building, a café apparently, which seemed to have a Japanese name, odd in Italy.
     "The Hana Kissaten." The man spoke, the words rolling off his tongue, as if he was fluent in the language.
     "Boss?" The man spoke, holding up a phone to his ear. "We have a possible enemy stand user in Italy."