A/N: Yup, it's Hina-chan. For those of you who've read my previous stories, this is NOT fluff. If you don't like serious, depressing topics, don't read this. Usually I filter out my really depressing story ideas, but for the sake of diversity I decided to write this one. If you do read it, I hope you enjoy it ^^"

Disclaimer: The events which occur in the following story is entirely from my own overactive imagination; relations to real people or events are coincidental. Oh, and I don't own Vocaloid.

The bitter evening wind bit into the exposed legs beneath the pencil skirt of the tall, pink-haired woman walking briskly through the dark street. Although the air had been warm and pleasant that morning, she was definitely regretting her decision to walk to work. Of course, she hadn't planned on working late and having to jaunt through the chilliness of early fall. She shuddered beneath her thin jacket, increasing her pace to reach home faster.

Home – the house at the edge of the city where she lived with the other Vocaloids, who'd left hours before her and were probably still at the karaoke house they'd departed for. Luka sighed. The only one who'd gone straight home was Gakupo, the purple-haired eggplant-lover who seemed to be creepily attached to her. He'd claimed that he had some cleaning to do at the house, but he was probably just waiting for her. I suppose it's sweet he doesn't want me to be alone after a long day of work… she thought, trying to reason it out. Of course, it's not like it's his job to protect me. Well, at least he's not following me around or anything…

The moment she thought that, she heard a scuffle from the empty street behind her. Startled, she stopped on her heels and glanced over her shoulder. When nothing happened for a few seconds, she shrugged it off and, shivering, set back off through the silent street.

A moment later, she heard distinct footsteps behind her. She spun around to face the noise, and saw only darkness. "Hello?" she called, her voice sounding too loud. The street, separated from traffic by a few closed shops and dark-windowed homes, was like a vacuum void of sound. During the day, it was a nice street bordered by a bright forested park. But at night… Luka suddenly felt a pang of fear stab her shivering form, her heart echoing almost audibly in the still gloom.

"Anyone there?" she called again, experiencing the same strange feeling that seemed to seep from the dark bricks of the buildings and the asphalt beneath her feet. The feeling wouldn't leave her, but since she didn't hear anything other than her shaking breath, she tried to ignore it. I'm just being paranoid, she thought, turning around to resume her commute.

Two large men stood over her, blocking the street in front of her. Luka resisted the impulse to scream, but still jumped back when she noticed them only a few feet from where she had been standing. She stared at them for a moment, watching wide grins emerge on their faces.

"Missy here seems cold," one of them said in a rough voice, with undertones of something that sent shivers of panic up Luka's spine.

"Want to get warm, missy? Huh?" the other one taunted. In the dim light, Luka noticed his unshaved beard and grimy clothes. He stepped closer, licking his lips. Disgusting.

"What do you want?" she said sternly, despite her shivering. They laughed mockingly. When several other voices joined in from behind and around her, she became aware of the fact that she was surrounded by at least six or seven men, on a dark street, alone at night. She clenched her fist. Well, I didn't go through years of Karate for nothing.

"So missy wants to help us out, eh?" said one of the voices behind her. A man stepped closer and smiled. "Tell you what: you be a nice little doll, and we'll go easy on you." He reached out to touch her face.

The next moment, he was lying on the ground, having been twisted to his knees by the wrist and knocked out by Luka's stiletto. Before the other men had time to react, she began sprinting wildly through the gap he'd left in the circle. Unfortunately, this was the opposite direction she needed to go; this road brought her into an even less populated part of the city. At least she had a bit of a head start on the gang, who had come to their senses and were chasing after her.

It became immediately evident that she wasn't going to make much headway wearing three-inch heels. She stopped for half a second to rip of her shoes, throwing one randomly over her shoulder at the advancing men and keeping the other to use as a weapon, if need be. Although running in stockings on damp asphalt wasn't ideal, it was better than heels.

She would've called for help, but she'd run herself out of any sort of neighborhood and was now sprinting through some kind of factory district. She hoped to see some activity in the windows, or perhaps another worker leaving late, but her hopes were to no avail. She was completely alone, and she couldn't run forever. Already her breath was becoming ragged and painful.

Although she was unfamiliar with this part of the city, she took a left turn into an alley that seemed to have some activity at the far end. She gauged her level of exhaustion and the adrenaline readily entering her bloodstream, and hoped she would make it. She was gasping for air, taking in cold, dry oxygen by the mouthful, when she realized she wouldn't make it. A dark figure appeared in front of her, emerging from an adjacent alley. Dammit! They have enough people that they can split up! Stupid, stupid me!

Without stopping, she punched him in the face and darted around him. He recovered quickly, though, and yanked her back by her long pink hair. She yelped in pain, but when his hand closed over her wrist she swung him around, ramming him into the wall. She suddenly remembered the stiletto she held in her hand, and hit him over the head with it.

However, while she had been incapacitating the first man, the others had caught up to her. She managed to get a high kick at another man's jaw – luckily he was short, since the action was rendered nearly impossible by her tight skirt – and he stumbled backwards. The man behind him pushed the short one aside and jumped forward to snag Luka by the arm, and another one appeared on her right side and got his arm around her waist. She elbowed the man behind her in the face, and kicked the other man between the legs, effectively loosening their grips on her.

She tried to keep running down the alley, but another man, who was nearly shirtless despite the cold, appeared in her path and ripped the shoe out of her hand. He dodged Luka's punch, aimed for his nose, and grabbed her by the wrists. She tried to kick him between the legs, too, but he twisted out of the way and pinned her against the wall.

For several minutes they struggled, Luka now utilizing nails and teeth, and the shirtless man with his sheer overpowering strength. There was no fear; only instinct, which dictated Luka's every move. However, adrenaline couldn't hold her forever; she was exhausted. When another man – the short one she'd kicked in the jaw – reached around her to rip her shirt open, she half-screamed, half-growled in frustration and anger. A taller man yanked down on her hair, and the shirtless man tried to knock her knees out from under her. She felt hands on her shoulders, legs, chest – so many hands, uninvited, too many to fight off. She screamed again, though her throat was dry enough to bleed.

Somehow, only God knows how, she managed to rake her nails across the shirtless man's eyes, and his weight on top of her disappeared. Scratching blindly at the men who came to replace him, she scrambled to her feet. The rest of them must've been surprised, or just plain stupid; they just watched as she ran for her life down the remainder of the alley.

Down the street, there was a tiny café that emitted a small glow onto the surrounding gloom. This small proof of life, of safety for the victim, was probably the reason the rest of the men hadn't followed her.

Luka stumbled with exhaustion, gasping violently, but she managed to make it through the door. The face of the red-haired shopkeeper was filled with shock and concern when she noticed the barefooted, dirt-covered woman with ripped clothes fall through the door.

"My god! What's happened to you?" exclaimed the woman, rushing forward to check on her.

"Help… I… I was attacked…" croaked Luka. As if that short sentence had drained her, she collapsed onto the floor.

A/N: It gets better... I promise...