Pairing: DantexOC.
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry. Capcom owns it. You would know if I owned it; DMC would all yaoi-y and smutty and generally controversial.
A/N: Geez, why do I feel like a nervous wreck for posting this on Fanfiction? I originally started posting this on Quizilla, but it went all dumb... Therefore, I dropped it like a hot potato...or something. If you review, please be nice. I admit I am a wussy, and this is my first fanfiction.
'Stupid rainy days.' Alexandra glared silently out toward the dreary city scenery as the gentle rain pattered meekly against her apartment's large picture window. The dark, sullen day had discovered a new way to sink the cold feeling of misery into her skin. Pausing her brooding only to stare down at her pocket, she yanked out the vibrating cell phone.
"Yes?" she sighed. 'Another day, another annoying customer. Hell, at least they pay me. Not much else, though.'
"Oh, Miss Ramsden, I have longed to test my skills for ages," cooed the sudden silky voice. Alex's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden challenge. "Meet me in the alleyway on Fleeting Street. Don't disappoint me." The line went dead.
The young woman grabbed her trench coat and growled fiercely. 'Why cant I just be left the hell alone?' She seized two large handguns from the room's lone table and situated them in her belt holsters.
As she prowled through the alleyway, she noticed the shadows dance erratically. Turning on her boot heels, she gazed tiredly at the slender figure behind her. "There you are," she drawled. She began to reach for her guns, but a sudden needle dug into her flesh. She blinked down at it. 'Not a bad trick.' Looking up at her attacker, she cocked her head to the side and waited boredly for the ever old, how-I-will-ravish-destroying-your-existence speech.
"I like my victims to know my title before I kill them," explained the dark-haired male as he examined his perfect nails. As his long, silky tresses flared behind him dramatically, the sudden wind revealed a rather feminine visage and slender, emerald eyes. "I am Nathaniel Darkheart! I am the winged scourge that spreads terror through his plight! Now, I shall kill you!"
What our dear friend Nathaniel failed (and miserably) to notice as he was crowing was that Alexandra had pulled out her companion weapon and had aimed it at his pretty head. Realizing his blunder, Nathaniel dashed toward her person. Too late. She fired several bullets, embedding them into his perfectly sculpted skull. His dead body crashed into the filthy, muddy street before Alex.
Woo. Strolling towards his corpse, she fished his man-bag out of a slit in his leather corset. "Geez, I thought you were going to be a lot more trouble," she tutted. "Guess not."
With that being said, she trudged her way back to her apartment.
After unlocking her door, she plopped down on her threadbare, beat-up couch and wrenched the long needle from her wrist. 'What a frikkin' pain.' Her cell-phone decided it was going to ring again. She groaned loudly. "Hello?" she greeted unenthusiastically.
"Hi, Alex, what cha' up to?" questioned a happy voice, "You want to go clubbin' tonight?" it asked eagerly. Alex could practically feel the impatient energy from this person.
"I dunno, depends on if I have a job tonight," she informed it.
"Aw! Okay, call me if change your mind." The line went dead for the second time that morning.
Drowsy from boredom and poison from the needle, Alexandra rolled her eyes and flipped over on her couch. Nap time.