Here be dragons

I'm at a groscerie store, it's in a old brick warehouse, with long rectangular windows. It's nicely cold inside with stack of brightly colored fruits and vegetables. I'm not alone in here; there's a teenage girl dressed to the nine in grungy, gothic clothes, with matching black lipstick and rebellious attitude. There's a groupe of men dressed in what's look like armies fatigues, they seem world weary and dangerous. And of course there's the cashier, a slimy, wannabe womanizer in a open collar shirt with slicked back dark hair and a gold chain dangling in the tuff of hair of his chest.*

The girl go to pay for her stuff and he hand here a small booklet with a black cover. I go after her to pay for my things and he and me a similar booklet, only mine looks like his little sister made it. I walk out of the back of the store to a park with gravelled paths and a fontain. I read the booklet; it's telling me that I'm some sort of paranormal creature, and that I'm both descending and under the tutelage of a godess named Asthatée. I get angry reading, telling that it's a bunch of horseshit. The dangerous-looking men are getting out behind me and trying to calm me down, telling me that they are used to that kind of things, but I blown them off and go to the cashier to tell him that he shouldn't hand out shit like this to teenager. He absolutly flips out and jump me, his hand turning into claw and going for my neck. I run away under one of the window, and one of the man, a hunter, manage to get on the ledge and use it to pour liquid fire on the enraged cashier, making him melt. Another of those men got caught in the fight and is badly burned; I look for something to soothe his pain. I spot a bottle behind the desk of the now deseased cashier: it's micronised milk. I grab it and pour some on the burns of my savior; it seem to work and he's relieved.

*classy act, this one.