I DON'T NOT OWN TMI ~ I am but a humble reader;)

Hey! So, I know that MANY others have run down this side of TMI Fanfiction, BUT I'm venturing down it too! This is a story of Clary, she grew up as a shadow hunter and I'm not going to sugar coat it – she's stronger in this – mentally, physically – whatever steams your tea. Loosely follows Cassandra Clare's storyline with similarities to the movie, :D So, without further ado I give you Falling in Love with the Wrong Person.

I know most all the stories start with them at the Pandemonium but why not another? ENJOY and REVIEW!

Clary Fray walked down the midnight streets of New York City. She seen a lot of things as she passed – more things than the mundanes could with the naked eye or exceptionally keen; a pixie in the ally way, the faint smell of werewolf, and… she stopped in her tracks looking at the blue haired boy walking through the thresh hold of the Pandemonium dance club… demon.

Pulling her leather hood up mover her odd coloring of somewhat light auburn, and mild red hair, she kept her head down as she passed behind the massive bouncer. The black of her outfit clearly giving her leverage, she swayed through the moving bodies and thick fog that covered the floors, her pure instincts of a hunter taking over when she was jerked to a stop. She peered up through hooded eyes.

She sighed.

"Hey, Clary!" Simon smiled thoughtfully, backing up a way's at her fiery glare. His black brow shifting as he took in his friend's attire. "What's up?"

She smiled, "Nothing, Simon – what are you doing here?" He never came to places like this without her – it wasn't really his scene.

He scratched his head, "I, uh, was kinda hoping that – you know – if on coincidence you – you and I – if, you and I were here tonight at the same time –," his tongue stumbled.

Clary – still with her tight leather jacket's hood on over her head – moved the back of her hand to her mouth with a fake cough, covering her amused smile. He was hoping that he'd see me here tonight.

"Simon," she decided to remove him from the embarrassing ramble, "It's good to see you, too." She said politely.

She took a good look at one of her only mundane friends; he was a gangly thing, that didn't know how appealing he really was to other human girls. His glasses falling over the bridge of his nose, and his pocket sized ego sitting on his sleeve, it was easy for her to decide that he was a worth keeping as a friend from the moment they met. The only problem was – he fell for her. The other problem was that he didn't know.

There was a moment of comfortable silence as they stood in their place, and from the corner of her eye she seen a girl with short pink hair giggle to her friend, obviously "checking" Simon out.

"Hey," she pulled on his sleeve, "I'll be right back."

She watched as his face fell with hurt, and with pure generosity grabbed his arm and pulled him along, "And try to have some fun," she winked, pushing him down on the stool next to the blushing girl, "But not too much, hot stuff."

He laughed, shaking his head at her as the tiny pink haired girl began a conversation, and Clary disappeared through the crowd.

She walked the perimeter of club. The teenagers oblivious to how odd she acted - almost like a killer – but that was indeed what she was. She enjoyed the hunt. The challenge, the cuts, bruises, and even the sting of the stele as she marked her skin of runes, the adrenaline and the faint 'shink' of her knives sliding out at her belt. There's was nothing more that she could see herself accomplishing in the blink of an eye life we all received. There was just shadowhunting, which scared her Mother to bits and pieces.

Like a lion she stopped in her tracks, turning her fierce gaze to the door of the storage room. She heard a shriek, and then another one after that – too low for normal ears. She swiftly dodged the dancing kids once more, opened the door a slit and squeezed in without a sound.

Hopping up the wall like a skilled silent monkey Clary hung onto pipes, and within seconds she was on the concrete floor of the second story railing without breaking a sweat. Perching herself on the metal railing bar like a hawk she watched the scene below her play out in the dim flickering florescent light. She smiled to herself as the little blue haired boy confessed that Valentine was alive, and how he evidently 'knows where he is'. Though, it didn't surprise her seeing three other shadow hunters already finishing the job. A blonde man, and two brunets; one boy and one girl.

With a seraph blade high in the air the blonde boy pushed the tip into the demons chest, and with a loud deafening shriek, and words that held no use, black blood oozed from the sharp glass and then there was no more. Clarissa's eyes danced with excitement – it was very rare that she got to see her work done as a bystander. It was fascinating when thought of as a play; the dance of the sword, the emotion of the main character, and the closing song of the defeated.

They talked amongst themselves after that as Clary sat in the ceiling shadows. All of their backs turned. And much to her amusement there was a feeling she couldn't fight at the back of her mind, the sadness of not being able to kill one tonight. Shrugging it off she readied herself to soon jump off the balcony and slip unseen out the door, but to her surprise a low rumble came below her feet and a disgusting Croucher Demon came barreling out from the space under her, boxes and metal pipes thrown out of the way. Taking out her long knife from her inner jacket, like second nature, she hopped directly down and drew the blade into the top of the creatures head with ease, before the others could even blink, it was gone with in seconds.

Clary dusted herself off as she stood up from her crouch, wiping the black ooze off on the faded leather of her boots. Removing her hood she brushed the red hair out of her eyes and she wordlessly tilted her head up at the others, her green eyes examining.

"And what are you?" The brown haired male said; shock evident on his face. I believe they mentioned his name to be Alec.

"It's a girl," Jace said, recovering his composure. "Surely you've seen girls before, Alec. You're sister Isabelle is one."

"Yes, I know it's a girl, Jace, but…?" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"What's your name?" Jace voice echoed off the cement walls.

She remained smugly quiet.

The women with the brown hair – Isabelle – then stepped closer to Clary. Taking Jace's sword and pointing it at her from a distance, "Start talking." She growled.

Clary sighed with a smile, "What would you like it to be?"

The blonde – Jace – smirked as he came closer and took his sword back, sliding it into his belt – clearly playing Clarissa's game he stood a few feet away, taking out his stele and using it as a nail filer, he began to walk around and examine her. "Well…" he began, "You have an ass like a tiffany…" She chuckled, "legs like a… Genevieve, yes? Hair like a Reba, and a nice rack like a Brittany," he then stopped inches from her face, "Trust me – I'd know." He winked smugly.

Clary laughed dryly under her breathe, "I'm sure you would." She agreed. "But, I can only assume your ever-so keen eyes missed the part marked Clary."

A seductive half grin made its way to the corner of Jace's mouth as his hands slid forward about to cup her small hips, "Pretty name, but there's still time to find it – Clockwork does not slow." He answered back slyly.

She blew a breath out, obviously already acquainted by smooth talkers like this one here. Grabbing his hand she put it against her cheek as she softened the blow, and was rewarded by his shocked expression – from the back of the room she heard Isabelle scoff.

"It sure does suck then that I'm here on business and not pleasure, doesn't it?" she shrugged innocently, looking into his butterscotch eyes. With a small smile she swiftly dropped his hand and pushed him against his chest, hard, making him stumble back to the others.

"If you're a shadow hunter then why haven't we seen you around here before?" Isabelle demanded poisonously. Clary had no clue why this woman so suddenly hated her; they've hardly spoken two words towards one another – perhaps it's a territory thing, she thought as she shrugged it off.

She blew a bang out of view, "You could say that I'm… homeschooled." She grinned deviously.

Just then the storage room door flung open, making all four of the young demon killers turn. In came the massive bouncer with Simon trailing behind sheepishly.

"Hey, Clary," Simon smiled with embarrassment. His shoulders slouched over as he dug his fisted hands in his pockets. "We heard noises so..." He gestures to the annoyed man beside him.

Clary almost laughed at how odd she must have looked; a so called "mundane" girl in the middle of a damp and cold storage closet "alone". Screw their glamour.

She sighed as she turned on her heal, "I thought I seen something come in here."

"What, like a ghost?" the bouncer scoffed as he held the door open.

Clary shrugged indifferently, "It was a mistake."

Behind her, Isabelle giggled.

Clary smiled smugly as she paused at the threshold, "Sorry," she swallowed "– I just keep hearing this really bitchy voice in the back of my head."

A grin spread across her face as an animalistic growl emerged from the back of Isabelle's throat, and was re-rewarded by the booming laughter of Jace. She kept walking.