It’s Halloween.
A small hand presses the doorbell.
The chime rings through the apartment, and the door swings open.
Ophélie — long, form-fitting dress, a touch of fake blood at the corner of her lips, sharp vampire teeth — exclaims:
— “Oh! You adorable little monsters. You’re too cute!”
— “Trick or treat?”
Three children dressed as a zombie, a vampire, and a little ghoul repeat the phrase together, smiling brightly.
A cheerful woman stands behind them.
Ophélie reaches for a bowl beside the door and says:
— “Here you go, my little monsters! Help yourselves!”
— “Thank you, ma’am!”
— “Ma’am, you’re super pretty!”
says the tiny zombie boy, embarrassed as the others giggle at him.
Ophélie loves compliments.
And indeed, she is stunning — her body moves with the fluid grace of a shifting wave, like the flowing hair described long ago by an old sailor…
*****
Later that evening
Ophélie and Night get into the car —
a black metallic Porsche Macan GTS, a gift from a very generous donor after one of her missions.
Ophélie is dressed as a chic, seductive vampire.
Night, for once, is dressed up — as Frankenstein’s monster.
She drives calmly through the night.
At a crossroads, the traffic light turns red.
She stops.
A black Mercedes pulls up beside them…
then cuts ahead, blocking the lane.
A BMW speeds in behind and blocks the rear.
Two men jump out, guns drawn.
— “Give us your car!”
Night obeys… or almost.
He leaps like a predator at the man closest to him.
The attacker is caught off guard, unable to react.
Night disarms him effortlessly and seizes the weapon.
A shot goes off — the man drops.
He turns, aims, and fires at the second one.
The man collapses.
Inside the stolen cars, the panicked drivers speed away, abandoning their fallen accomplices on the frozen asphalt.
Ophélie, already on the phone with the police, covers her mouth with her hand.
She forgets, just for a moment, that her husband is a monster — even without a costume.
Yoyo arrives with his patrol.
He waves his colleagues aside:
— “It’s fine, lads, I’ll handle this.”
He turns to Night:
— “Do you always have to kill someone?!”
— “They wanted the car. I didn’t have time to react.”
Ophélie, eyes filled with tears, mutters:
— “He didn’t give me a choice…”
Yoyo sighs:
— “It’s alright, Félie. The street cameras caught everything.”
He pauses, glancing toward the bodies:
— “These guys are known. A luxury-car theft gang. At least thanks to them, we’ll be able to take down the whole group.”
He looks sharply at Night:
— “And you… you’ve got to stop doing that.”
Night stands motionless.
Cold.
Silent.
He stares down the street, simply waiting to leave for the agency’s Halloween party.
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real-world contexts.
It was conceived and written by Raulgarth, with the support of Sergeant-Chief Marcel1 for editing, documentation, and narrative development.
Translated with grit and caffeine by Sergeant-Chief Marcel.
Apologies for any translation errors that may have occurred.
You can find the original French version of this story at raulserv.fr.
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