My first step in the plan I have just now made up on the spot is to acquire some blood. According to the system, I am fresh out, having less than a single... point. Not sure how much a point of blood is, but that is unimportant. What is important, however, is that I procure some.

I don't believe I'll die lacking it, but using it, I can surely gain power previously unseen...!

Once more, I take to flight, this time heading for my door. Surely, I could plunge out of my slightly-ajar window, letting the winds take me to some unsuspecting civilian whose blood I will promptly drain. Alas, such a scheme is... boring, frankly. No, the blood I take much more interest in is the blood of someone near me, someone I would consider the hero to my villain.

My brother. According to my Joker-themed clock, the time is just after six. My brother, being as punctual as he is, will surely be in the kitchen, mixing up some cuisine for the both of us.

He shall be my first victim.

Ohohoho, with the stealth of an assassin, I shall sneak a few drops out of his neck, like a sly vampire drinking his fill! Daft as he is, he shan't even notice a thing is awry...!

With all the confidence of a man already in the claws of success, I approach my previously-red-now-black door, cackling under the annoying hum of my wings.

There, I encounter my very first obstacle.

...I curse my solidarity. The door, as it always is, is firmly closed, the key-hole stuffed with cotton to prevent prying eyes seeing more than they should. Perhaps, had I, in my endless wisdom, foreseen such a situation as this, I might have had hole here or there to allow for easy and safe escape.

-But now, I have no such luck. Curses upon ye, door! To the devil with you!!

To truly pronounce my anger, I vigorously shake my mosquito-sized fist, despite knowing full-well that it will do nothing to actually solve my problem.

With my emotions out of the way, I actually get to solving my predicament. Both the top and the bottom of the door are fitted nicely, allowing for no holes or crooks through which to see. This was initially a very good thing, but now, it seems to have lost its charm.

Uncontent with how my plan is turning out, I fly down and sit at my desk in the hopes of simmering off, perhaps even to re-evaluate my plan. The window is always an option. An option I am unwilling to choose out of personal obligation to my personal codes and my personal conduct. Personally.

Hmpf. Curses upon ye, door. Curses upon-,

"Hey, David, weird question, but-," as if on cue, my brother simply... bursts in the door. And without knocking, too! Confounded, miserable chap! His tanned, objectively handsome (the lucky bastard) face turned about, evaluating my room in search of something. Squinting, he steps into my room fully. Without even so much as asking. Sure, heroes have a tendency for simply bursting in on their antagonist, but is knocking too much to ask?

As he steps inside, he also, as he always does, leaves the door quite open. Well well well. Look who decided to finally open up!

I rise from my seat, buzzing merrily with a gait to my flight, moving towards the door in order to get to the kitchen to steal some blood from my mother.

...Only once I'm about a meter away from the door do I realize my folly.

My brother is still in my room. I am in my room. There is literally no reason for me to leave my room.

...Curses upon me, curses.

Turning around, I head for my brother. Specifically, his thick, muscular neck. The man is, all and all, a muscleman. It only adds to his superman-like personality, what with his virtuousness and all.

Looking at those steely muscles, I wonder if my thin needle of a proboscis will even be able to draw a single drop of blood. It better. Otherwise, I'll escape, and return stronger than ever, and with malaria to boot! Muscles don't stand a chance when faced with the most destructive of diseases!

Muhahahaha!!

I descend upon him. Somehow, despite being right behind his head, he has failed to notice me.

How ironic, my friend... There you are, searching for your brother, when I am, in fact, right behind you...!

As a true villain would, I waste no time in sticking my face-sword into his supple flesh. It slides right on in. Sure, most villains would monologue for a few minutes before wreaking their due havoc, but as a mosquito, I have no mouth with which to monologue. Indeed, it is an utter disgrace.

As I let my body work and suck the blood all on its own, a peculiar thought strikes me.

...Noise. The stat. It described its usage as being that of manipulating the sound I make. Sure, it specified it as "louder or quieter", but manipulation can be used to do more things like that. I reckon, with a high enough noise stat, I should just be able to create a voice with which to speak. No, with which to monologue!

Gahahahaha!-,

Maximum Blood capacity has been reached

Oho, we meet again. Just in time, too, I was just about-,

S M A C K

Everything got dark. My body groans and whines under the pressure I can only describe as a thousand tonnes, all pressed up on my body.

Less then a second of this darkness passes, and it is released. A giant hand, like that of fifteen trucks, lifts off of me. Weary and unfocused, I rise from the shadow of the hand, flying as if drunk.

The hand retreats, and I can see it no longer.

"...Missed it," I hear my brother mumble, and I realized I could have been dead right now. That could have been the end of me.

...But I got the blood!

You have lost, hero! You tried to capture me, nigh end my life, and you failed, allowing for my hasty retre-,

C L A P

The wind pressure of his sudden clap, a clap mere inches from my face, send me reeling and tumbling backwards, towards my door.

Ohdearsatanddownbelowwhatthefuck

When I look back up, my heart beating out of my chest, I see my brother's dark eyes staring into mine.

"-There you are," he mumbled under his breath, taking one large, absolutely humongous step towards my humble location.

I move as fast as I possibly can, my window being my one goal. If I can only make it out of here, if I can only escape, I'll be gone, with the spoils of battle well within me.

C L A P

Yet another clap, only just behind me, send me flying once more, tumbling through the air with little to no control over myself. With no time to think, I continue heading for the window, my brother hot on my trail.

The window looms ahead of me, the cityscape stretching out far below. The idea of jumping, of braving the winds, momentarily startles me, and I stop.

I turn back, a glimpse to see if I could maybe just take the stairs.

Have you ever tried to catch a mosquito with one hand? By simply stretching it out and trying to grab it really hard?

That is what my brother was doing.

Wind or not, eleventh floor or not, I did not want to become mush.

And so, I threw myself out of the window, and hoped not to die.