Dee and Chloe

Dee knew the world was ending when the demon screeching outside her apartment sounded like it had a personal vendetta against her eardrums. Then she saw the four horsemen casually trotting past the window like they were late for brunch. Add eternal flames flickering across the city skyline, and yeah—apocalypse confirmed. Great. Just what she needed. Before all this chaos, Dee had a normal life. You know, cat-and-dog vet stuff: shots, neutering, the occasional dog vomit clean-up. Now? She patched up demons. Because apparently, all the human doctors got eaten “for funnies,” but the demons still needed someone to stitch them when they stabbed themselves with tridents or impaled their tails on fire pits. Dee didn’t ask questions—mostly because she didn’t want the answers. And then there was Chloe. Her cat. Or, you know… demon cat. Chloe levitated, meowed in something that sounded like a Klingon-voodoo hybrid, and left scorch marks on the carpet. Normal cats don’t do that, Dee was pretty sure. Chloe’s idea of a cuddle involved glaring into her soul and muttering what could only be described as ancient curses. Dee sighed. Apocalypse or not, breakfast waits for no one. So now, Dee’s life was equal parts vet, exorcist, and occasional fire extinguisher. Demons whined about stitches, Chloe judged her life choices from the ceiling, and the world burned spectacularly outside. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Dee considered that maybe she should’ve paid more attention in that elective called “Introduction to Demonology.” But hey—at least she still got to wear her cute scrubs. Apocalypse or not, someone had to keep these fiery brats alive. And that someone? Apparently, it was her.