Author's Note: I'm not obsessed with Twilight. Actually, I'm pretty neutral about it. I think that the writing is lacking (I've seen a lot of Fanfiction stories that are far better written than this book), but it was also the first romance novel I read, so it has a special place in my heart.

And, you all know how much I love Storm Hawks, so I decided to play around a little—what if Bella wasn't naïve, innocent, and wholeheartedly good? What if she was replaced by a Storm Hawks character? An evil Storm Hawks character? As in, my favorite character, Cyclonis.

Thus we have this story. It's following the plotline of Twilight, same as the book, except instead of Bella, it's Lark Cyclonis.

Credit goes where it is due: to Nerd Corps for Storm Hawks, and to Stephenie Meyer for Twilight.

I've never given much thought to how I'd die, though I've had ample reason to.

When you've been raised solely by a father who is somewhat insane, experimenting with crystals and radiation, and have been told that it is your destiny to rule the world—when you're evil—I suppose it is wise to give consideration to such an eventuality. I guess I'm more of a child than either my father or I would like to admit.

My mother died in childbirth, and my father raised me completely. We lived in Phoenix, Arizona, where he had an underground base, complete with a bunker that could survive a nuclear blast. Which is a pretty good idea, considering the fact that he had been designing crystals to replicate nuclear fusion. Most scientists and respected academics thought of him as mad. I saw him for what he truly was: a genius.

No one wished to be a lab assistant for him; this was probably due to the fact that most of the "assistants" he had hired had died in…failed experiments. So I worked with him.

The radiation changed me. I began to get closer to the crystals. I began to be able to harness their power directly. My father was pleased. We worked even harder.

Unfortunately, my school was not pleased. They decided that my father was unfit to take care of me, so to try to keep me out of the hands of childcare authorities, he sent me to an old high school friend of his who lived in some small town called Forks.

I wonder if they had an adjacent village named spoons.

Funny—in my father's attempt to save me, he condemned me to death. Still, I cannot bring myself to regret the decision to leave my home. Forks opened my eyes to a lot of new things, and for once, I felt like I…belonged. Surely, it is not unusual to grieve at the ending of such a precious thing.

The hunter sneered at me as he sauntered forward to kill me.

I was evil. I was aware of that fact from my birth. I killed my mother, but my father taught me to be cold. To be unaffected. To be smart, to be strong.

I never guessed that I would be dying in the place of someone I loved. Poetic justice, I guess?

That ought to count for something, at least.

I have this story stuck in my head, so despite the flames you give me, I'll probably just write more. Sorry, but, I'm not really sorry. Don't like it, don't read it.