Disclaimer: Psst. I don't own Konami or it's characters. Pass it on.
HONOR VIRUTIS PREAMIUM
Honor is the Reward of Virtue
"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets!"
-Dracula
Call it sin.
Call it natural.
Call it whatever you personally feel like; the fact remains the same; sex sells.
And it sells well. Perhaps a bit too well.
Physical attraction, it seems, will beat out emotional drawings any day of the week.
But no matter the justification, sex seems to be sold in "dirty" form. The dirtier, the better.
So inevitably, indulging in this ware- or thinking of it- leaves the customer sometimes feeling dirty.
Such was the case of Soma Cruz.
Leaning against a tree at the Hakuba Shrine in Japan, he mused on such thoughts. Thoughts of morality, thoughts of mortality, thoughts of the past few months.
The latter took a great deal of thought.
Soma appeared to be relatively normal by human standards. The only exceptions might be that his hair was a shocking white, and that he was wearing a long, white coat- complete with an imitation fur neck- jeans, and a long sleeved black shirt- in the summer.
In Japan.
In Tokyo.
Passerby mentally questioned his sanity, and wondered how the boy did not fall over from heat exhaustion.
The fact was Soma didn't feel the heat at all. His abilities saw to that.
For you see, in the kindest sense of the term, Soma Cruz, age 19, was not normal.
He was the heir to Dracula's powers of dominance, the ability to control the souls of monsters- erego, gaining their power in the process.
The past few months had been spent discovering this power- and using it- in two separate life or death struggles against adversaries not of this world.
The first, initiated by Dracula's own son, no less, had Soma confronting his true nature and conquering the chaos that threatened to engulf him.
The second had him confronting the fact that no matter how much he pushed away the chaos, it could always seep right back in, threatening to steal away sense and soul.
His head turned about nine degrees to the right, allowing him to get a look at the reason for that.
Mina Hakuba. Childhood friend and a something else. A something else he could never put into words.
Barrier. Savior. Comforter. Thread that kept his soul from falling into an infinite howling madness.
In the second confrontation, Soma had been confronted with the illusion of her death. Hate had nearly consumed him; engulfed him, left him ready to lash out with the demons within his mind to strike down that bitch-
No, just an illusion. Can't get angry.
Over and done with.
The son of Dracula had intervened again, snapping him out of his descent into darkness. Once again, his soul was safe, but the fact still remained there was something that could drive him to madness, a madness from which you never regained control.
He needed Mina. In ways human language could never put into words.
The soul of a frost shade chilled him; kept the harsh glare of a Tokyo summer from burning him alive…
…but it was compounded by the chill he felt of what might happen if Mina were to leave him.
She had changed out of her priestess robes, into something far cooler for the day- short sleeved shirt, jean shorts, sandals… even in the modesty of her clothing, her smile, her crimson hair, her tender expression…
It could make him feel better again.
But her appearance brought up a subject he has struggled with for many nights, and as she approached, before she could speak, he answered what she might have asked.
"I'm not going."
Shock wiped her kind look off her face.
"You're… not?"
"You don't seem to think it's good."
"It's just that…"
He smiled. "Let's do something else, then."
"You're not angry, Soma-kun?"
"Are you?"
"No, I'm sorry I…"
He touched her face. "You don't need to apologize. I understand what you said, now."
Her shock turned to a smile. Cute, heart-melting six-cavities a minute smile.
And then she grabbed him in a pounce/hug/tackle that would have put any female wrestler to shame.
An explanation is needed for what just transpired.
It just so happened that a friend of a friend of a friend of Soma's managed to acquire tickets. Tickets to a wrestling match.
But this was no ordinary wrestling match, oh no. This was a Rumble Roses Wrestling match. This meant women with generous cleavage and playboy girl physique wrestling and humiliating each other in a needlessly explicit match. Emphasis on humiliation.
Going made you a somebody among the male community.
And somehow, this friend of a friend of a friend had gained four tickets.
Soma was offered the chance to go. He never much cared for it, but he needed some status among his friends- to prove he was… what?
Not playing for the other team?
Not a fairy?
What was the saying for homosexuality these days?
Anyway, he had planned to go, and had informed Mina.
Mina, normally being a calm, demure girl, had pitched a holy fit, calling it an amoral, despicable, dishonorable trash-heap of sleaze.
He had countered with saying it was all an act and that he needed some downtime after the little incident of having to face Demons ten times his size.
Mina had asked how he would feel if she were in one of those matches.
It had been their worst argument, ending with Soma leaving in a huff from her home, with only "we'll talk about this later" as a parting word.
Then it struck him.
How would he feel?
To see her humiliated, hurt, beaten, men hooting and encouraging her torture?
His answer was simple: He would kill every single person in the arena in a ballistic rage, and as for the wrestler responsible, gender be damned…
…He didn't want to think of what his potentially evil side would do in retribution. Probably something involving the Valmanway sword he had in his enchanted knapsack, given to him by Dracula's son, Alucard, at the start of this mess. (How the hell else do you explain him lugging all that junk around?)
Or fire.
Or both.
He had called up his friend and told him he had plans with his (and here he took a deep breath) girlfriend.
It wasn't entirely a lie- he had plans to reconcile and spend the time he would have spent watching females mud wrestle otherwise with her.
Hooting and encouraging to "get some" from the friend.
He waited until the phone was hung up to mutter the "screw you" that had built up in his throat.
Is that how they saw girls? As sex toys?
Fine.
He'd have none of it. Too many goddamn troubles of his own to deal with.
Speaking of trouble- he was happy for the reconciliation and all, but, well…
He needed to breathe.
"Mi-mina…" he gasped. "Can't…get…any…air…"
Mina relented, and Soma was saved from death by glomping.
He smiled, and made a jerk with his head.
"So, whaddya wanna do?"
"Well, there's a new movie out…"
It's amazing what money can do.
It can bend laws.
It can make loopholes.
And with the right people it can make them throw every ounce of respect for human life and dignity right out the window.
Duke Heki was one of those people. Money, to him, was everything.
You got it? Stack enough bills in front of me, and maybe you and I can have an understanding. Maybe I can make your problems go away.
You don't got it? Go to someone who cares.
Still, he had his limits. Jobs had risks. People who he was paid to "make go away" didn't usually go out quietly. People had to be silenced. Cops had to be bribed. New identities had to be forged. Travel expenses for fleeing a continent when a job from his past made the cops start sniffing at his heels.
If the money wasn't worth the risk, he'd turn it down.
Money's no good when you're dead.
So when, a month ago, he'd been asked by someone who'd gotten wind of his talents to do a job, he had to measure risk vs. money.
The job looked like a bad idea to begin with. Enticing young women (namely the variety commonly gracing adult publication covers) into a contest of sorts- professional wrestling. Rumble Roses, they said.
Looking over the specs it was a hard sell. He didn't care what sluts thought, but nowadays few girls want to throw dignity away in front of a live audience. Or get beaten up. Or both.
He was told that in the event of refusal, chloroform made an excellent persuasive tool.
He was going to bow out- Assassination is one thing, dead men- or women- tell no tales. But kidnapping…
That meant tracking, subduing, and transporting a hostage from god-knows-where back to a drop point, all the while making sure to keep a low profile and keeping suspicion to a minimum.
He WAS going to refuse.
Then the gentleman he'd been speaking to on the matter showed him a briefcase- a large, very roomy one- filled with hundred dollar bills.
He was promised one for each girl.
EACH GIRL.
That meant three babes in a car trunk could set him into retirement.
Risk? What risk?
He accepted.
It turns out the people he worked for were extremely particular about the girls they wanted. They wanted someone who was attractive, yet demure looking. An innocent looking sweet-thing, over eighteen or looking like she could fool a live audience. Essentially, a beautiful angel they could humiliate and degrade on live TV. Turns out that sort of thing sells.
And the dame had to have red hair, light skin, innocent eyes, certain dimensions… blah blah blah.
Oh, yes, and she had to be Japanese.
Which meant, on this blistering day in Tokyo, with the sun glaring down on him like the gaze of some angry god, he'd had no luck.
He took out a cigarette, hoping the nicotine would take his mind off the heat of the day…
He noticed, to his dismay, he'd drawn his last cigarette. And he was running low on funds.
He needed to find a mark, and fast, otherwise he was going to be stuck on this cramped, hot, strange island where he had trouble asking where restrooms were, much less getting advice on where attractive redheads hung out.
He lit the cigarette, took a drag…
…and coughed, dropped the cig, stamped it out, as a girl who seemed to be a textbook example came into view, holding a bag…
Pink shirt, jean shorts, sandals, holding a bottle of water in one hand, and a cute little expression of "Oh life is wonderful".
Perfect.
A small fraction of what remained of his soul cried out at the injustice of damning her to such a cruel fate as what his employers had planned. It was crushed by the overwhelming indignity of having to resort to Alpo dinners again.
Sorry, lady. My worst case scenario beats your worst case scenario.
He approached, making sure first that the bottle of chloroform was safely in his jacket.
He'd studied Japanese extensively for this occasion, and so had no trouble forming the words he'd rehearsed for so long.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. I am Duke Heki. May I ask your name?" He said, bowing slightly to the young lady.
The girl wore a confused expression, apparently a bit taken aback to be approached by a total stranger. Shy, a definite plus. Grade A "victim" material.
"Er, Mina Hakuba." The girl mumbled, seemingly not wanting to prolong this conversation past the bare minimum of Japanese politeness.
He needed to work fast.
"I'm working on behalf of a…" Art- No. Fashion- No. Movie- No. Modeling- N…yes. Yes, that's it. "…modeling company. We're doing modeling for a certain branch of entertainment, Rumble Roses. Have you heard of it?"
It was a smooth as sandpaper line, and Duke should have known better than to hope that the girl would buy it.
Her confused look went to one of disgust. "Yes, and I'm not interested. Sayonara, sir." she spoke icily, her voice chilling even the furnace like air of the day. She turned, casting a death-ray look over her shoulder at him, and began to walk away.
He sighed inwardly.
"Look, lady…" he said, approaching her again, an edge to his voice… screw the act, he had money to make. His hand grazed the bottle in his jacket…
…and flew away, as if burned, as out from around a corner, into his path, came a man clad in a white jacket, eyes boring into him like invisible drills.
The first thing that came to mind was that the man had to be nuts to be wearing such heavy clothing on a day like this. The second was that he might have a gun concealed in his jacket. Or a knife.
Duke cursed himself for not coming on this little journey armed.
"Out of my way, pal… I'm discussing business with the lady…"
"No, you're not." The girl's voice. It had more bite than he'd expected. "You're trying to get me to pose for that god-awful little softcore porn show. And like I told you- I'm not interested."
Duke started to walk around the stranger… "Look, it's just a few photo shoots, maybe a few fake matches…"
He suddenly found himself unable to speak, as the white cloaked, white haired stranger stepped in front of his path again, and an overwhelming sense of fear and dread washed over him.
Once, as a child, he agreed to stay in a graveyard overnight on a dare. The experience left him unable to speak for three days.
That was nothing compared to what he felt now.
The heat of the day had suddenly dropped to a blood-freezing chill.
The cacophony of the day quieted to the silence of the grave.
And every cell in Duke Heki's body seemed to cry out in terror. Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!
The man's- no, the boy's eyes seemed to glow red, his face radiating some sort of ancient power, the glare beating down on him like the gaze of a vengeful demon smirking at it's pitiful prey before ripping it apart.
It was like looking Death himself square in the eyes.
"Leave." The boy spoke, and his voice carried both irritation and the promise of a thousand horrible ways Duke could die if his patience was tested. "NOW."
Somehow, miraculously, as if the god of cowards had came down and blessed him, Duke Heki found enough feeling in his legs to turn and run full tilt away from… whatever the hell that was.
Pushing aside pedestrians as he ran in a blind panic, he didn't stop until he had zigzagged down several streets, ducked in and out of several buildings, and made sure that Mr. Psycho wasn't following.
He sighed, coughed, hacked as years of smoking took their toll.
Then reality struck. He had a name. Mina Hakuba.
It was very little. A grain of sand to look for on a very big beach.
But it still was something.
The trick, he decided, was to get her alone, without the… punk.
Why had he been so terrified? Why hadn't he just threatened to sock the punk one right then and there if he didn't get out of his way?
Because…
Because…
Because something was… wrong. There was something not kosher about the kid with white hair who wore clothes that would have made any other faint from the heat of the day.
There was something about him that made every single "Oh Crap" reflex in his body go off. No way he could confront the guy head on.
He'd have to be sneaky. Get the girl alone, get her, and get out of the country all without alerting Mr. Freaky to what was going on.
Duke sighed, as he walked back to his hotel room.
It'd been tough enough to find a mark that matched the exact descriptions his employers gave him.
They never said anything about having to face fear incarnate.
"Who was that?" Soma asked her. A soft voice, but concerned.
Mina shuddered. "Some creep wanting me to pose for that… Rustle Roses thing."
Soma closed his eyes, and sank into thought. No, not just pose. He had felt something, something that made him stop looking for a vending machine and return to Mina. Greed, yes. Greed tainted with knowledge of a dark future. But what sort of dark future?
Several seconds left him with nothing in the way of answers. The powers of sensing emotions he'd inherited, it seemed, had their limit.
He put a hand on Mina's shoulder, channeling some of the Frost Shade's coolness onto her. She shivered.
But it was a shiver of delight and she made a cute little "ahhh" sound, and the thought of him making her feel good set his blood racing like no other thrill…
No.
He could not afford to sink into thoughts of carnal knowledge. That would have to wait.
For now, he would keep a watchful eye.
"Let's go somewhere… else." He suggested.
Mina's response was to draw closer and give a half-glad, half-worried "mm-hm".
The darkness lingered in his mind, like the door that never got opened in cheap horror movies until the very end, revealing some hideous nightmare…
He prayed his suspicions were wrong, that the creep would go somewhere… else. Find someone else to bother.
He didn't feel like shedding blood, but if anyone came at Mina with harmful intent… he could get over it.
But for now, he decided, he would forget the incident long enough to enjoy his time with Mina. Relax. Let his old scars heal and bad memories fade.
For now.