“Crib notes, I am reduced to writing crib notes on my arm” Shwan thought sarcastically moments before leaping through the portal.

Landing awkwardly on the mottled stained hardwood floor Shwan rolled towards the darkest shadow hoping that no one heard her. Collecting herself in slow, steady breaths Shwan counted to twenty before standing upright on her cloven hooves and pulled up the sleeve of her cloak to see who she was to possess in this home.

“Why am I doing this? Other than it is what is expected of me. Thanks dad for being the agency's top daemon”. Shwan lamented in her head.

Shwan turned right then left to the last door where just a sliver of light shined under it. Taking a deep breath Shwan walked through the flimsy door to the next room and her unsuspecting prey.

Sitting in the chair was the woman she was to posses an empty bottle laid on its side from the dangling limp hand.

“Ew! Couldn't she at least showered before I got here?” Shwan let the involuntary shiver run down to the tip of her forked tail.

Shwan looked at the notes carved into her arm just to make sure this one went right. “Third time is the charm, isn't' that what these humans say.” Shwan thought to herself.

Touching the nearly unconscious drunk woman Shwan accepted the arc of electricity that leaped from the woman to herself. Shwan's flaming red hair fanned out around her in a weird dance that it always did moments before she slipped inside the woman's body.

Looking through the woman's eyes Shwan could see that the woman had been staring at a picture of smiling boy with short hair and a very mischievous smile on his face.

Shwan wiggled to fit inside the woman's skin a bit better before realizing that the woman wasn't even trying to fight Shwan like she had been taught all humans would do in this moment.

“Shit! What did I do wrong?” Shwan screamed inside her head. Moments before Shwan realized that the woman had pulled the trigger of the small revolver held in her other hand.

Time slowed down so much that Shwan could hear the tiniest clap of the hammer as it connected to the firing pin of the bullet that spun out of the barrel with a strange metallic squeal to the millisecond the lead collided with the bone of the woman's skull shattering the bone like fine porcelain china and ending with the sicking splat of brain matter as it turned from a solid gray jello mold into the spilled paint that mixed into some gory color that only the most depressed artist would use.

Shwan only had a second to realize that the bullet should have killed the woman but because of Shwan's possession at that exact moment the woman would live but Shwan was confused by the sensation of being sucked not out of the woman but further in.