Hello readers! I was browsing through Deviantart and stumbled upon an AU version of Miki Makimura in her Devilaman form. I forgot the link was but this inspired me to write this. I blend in with some of my travels to Mexico City and my friends who lived in the city for a long time. It's a blend of real events in the city and dramatization. My chapters are extreme short compared to other fanfic writers but I put my effort into this like everyone else. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to comment about this. Thanks.
Prologue
The dead are alive. As what the crazy ones say. For me, that talk is just pure bullshit although, they are not half wrong about that statement. The dead are alive but the ghosts that walk amongst us are simply not there to speak, scream, laugh, cry, or any other emotions we can build on of. What is the point in all this? There is absolutely nothing that cannot change this situation, this climate of despair, this cancer amongst us. However, if one manages to pull out their tumor, despite all problems and ethics within in, then the one who do so dies as well. It might as well follow history. The rambling of man and its problems does not seem to help nor is sputtering out gibberish talk about our political climate. Well, my climate to be exact.
The climate above Mexico City is thickening. If one were a bird, the brown smog would be seen for kilometers beyond its official border. The valley of smoke is as imagined to be a cancerous as drugs. They are killers and full of shit. The thick brown smog in the atmosphere seems to be a killer amongst the rich and the poor. Notice I did not say the middle class, because they are eradicated. Wiped out. Disposed. Purged to be exact. The PRI has left the political spectrum and its power at the turn of the new millennium, 2000. However, it was all a big disappointment. Nothing and no one will change a goddamn thing in this land and the future is already grim. Is God really there? Or is he testing us to see if our patience can last so we can see the "pearly gates" or endless amounts of pussy and ass and alcohol forever when we die. I do not know but I can say this: the city of God has finally succumbed to Satan. And that's where this finally ends.
I heard glimmers of hope surrounding the globe and killing those who were evil and I am safe to say that something has finally happened in Mexico for the better. The cartels and the corrupt officials in all powers within the government are finally scared. I am so happy that this is the first time I ever felt some kind of emotion that is not related to death, sadness, or disillusionment.
Instead of quivering in fear for years and years, this time I need the courage and confidence to ask for help. Beyond my allies and acquaintances in the FBI and some neighbors up north, there is one person who can actually help along with her allies. Onryo Runner as they call her in fear. Twenty days of searching has finally ended and I am glad that help is arriving. So help me God.
Chapter 1: Reawakening
"Identification, please." I handed my card to him and he gives it back to me without looking at my card. "OK go."
I am glad that I do not have to physically spit on his face every time I come here. When was the last turn I been out of the country? Months? Years? Whatever and I don't care. Driving in my black Toyota sedan, I have personally cleaned it myself. Before, I never bothered to clean because I do not need to. As an Uber driver, there were some kinds of activities and spots to clean: blood stains, the smelly odor from midnight sex acts, crumpled up napkins, papers, and cigarette butts. All were part of me. I never had the confidence to look at myself in the mirror and say "Fuck you, you're a loser." Now, I have cleaned myself up. Thanks to her, I can safely say that I am a loser that needs some help instead of drinking and wasting my hours of life on the Internet watching pointless YouTube videos and hentai.
I found a parking space by the entrance for Volaris. She should be out now. She could have used her own powers to pop up at my place but I did not want her to do that, for it would raise suspicion in my apartment tower. I see her by the curb wearing her pink headband, and her eyes were vermilion red, not glowing. Her skin was pure white with some hints of blue. Her scars are quite visible for everyone to see, but she does not care. Her belt buckle had a skull on it, so I knew it was her. Go figure. She wore a slim back dress, very punkish style of clothing, which I liked. Her boots with sharp cleats are a distinct part of her as well. I hope she doesn't stab my car mat with her cleats. She did not bring any luggage, so I think I may need to buy her one just in case for the future.
"Señora Makimura, I presume?"
"Yes."
"Please come in." She gets into my car and magically pulls out a metal chain whip. "So how do you change yourself?"
"I rather not talk about it."
"OK. Anyway, welcome to Mexico City, the heart and soul of the beating and breathing Mexico." She looked out at the window and asked me, "So, how did you see justice out here?"
"That depends. Let me give you a history lesson. The only time justice came about was the Mexican Revolution the 1900s. The poor has risen up against its overlords and took over the country but ruled like the despotic rulers before. So justice has not come here. The courts here useless and gang violence and corruption are rampant here. While the Americans venerate their dead, we simply disregard our heroes. Human instinct takes the wheel and lynches those who betray us. For me, I am like you, almost. Sometimes, to prove a point I behead head from a corpse to send a message to everyone, even in my team."
"So what has changed here?"
"Not much before but because of you, your boyfriend, and your friends things started to change for the better. News reports of you guys' actions around the world have helped to alleviate some evilness in this world. Look, your American friend, Ghost Rider, resurrected you and you resurrected innocents. That is quite astonishing! The dead are alive for god's sake. Fiction became reality! I mean come on!" I laughed.
"I understand that you are honored to have me here and praising for my actions in this world, but I assure you that I am working with you, not for you."
"Don't worry. I won't burden you," I grabbed a cigarette and lighter from my shirt pocket and putting the cigarette in my mouth, "Come as you please and leave whenever your job is done," I lighted my cigarette in a half-assed fashion, "I am a simple man with a simple goal: ending the cycle of violence and corruption," I blew and puffed my cigarette.
As we exited the airport and headed towards the viaduct, there was a police checkpoint at the entrance. The checkpoint consisted of three hooded federal police officers, a guard dog, and a stop sign. The process was that one stopped the vehicle while the officers searched the car for anything suspicious. That was the usual process, but with the recent killings of top government officials, a bounty hunt was placed for the magical Japanese woman, Makimura who was my passenger. "Mierda." (Shit.)
"Is this common in Mexico City?"
"Yes ma'am but this is a bit over-the-top. Unfortunately, they're going to kill us because I have you." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuckity fuck! I looked left and right to see what are my options. I see a hotel in the distance and a gap to escape: there is also a dilapidated fence that could be some help. I snapped my fingers just I had a thought in my head, "Ms. Makimura, before we get to the checkpoint, I will distract the guards but you have to jump out of the car. I'll pick you up at Hotel Aeropuerto." I grabbed a napkin and wrote the address for her, "Here's the address but make sure you do not use your power unless necessary. I do not want the fucking special forces coming at us."
"I understand," She looked at the officers before looking back at me, "Let's hope this work." My heart, thumping, rushing and pumping blood, filled me up with fear and once the officer came to my window, it slowly faded as I slowly pulled up to the checkpoint. I see an M4 carbine hanging from the hip at me, pointing me at imminent death. The federal police officers were wearing black ski masks and sunglasses; the only skin showed was the mouth. One officer said to me, "Identification, p-."
The moment of truth came: they knew we are here. "Is that? It's her!" As soon as they screamed, I instantly floored the gas pedal going from zero to ninety kilometers an hour. The engine roared with gusto and the tires smoked before I released the emergency brake. I swerved to the left and right before I straightened myself out. I drove far enough so the officers could not catch me. I stepped on the break pedal, which made a screeching noise. I breathed heavily for a while and looked towards her. "Mea culpa," I said to her. I gave her one of my two pistols to her, "Here's a Beretta. Don't lose it. Use it. Now go!"
Police sirens were blaring closer to us. She got out of the car quickly and ran towards the viaduct fence. "Hey, what's your name?"
"Arturo."
"Buena suerte, Arturo!"
"Gracias," I said back to her before driving off and escaping the police cars. "Alright then. Let's play cat and mouse." I floored the gas pedal and lifting the emergency brake and jumped over through the viaduct curb. I turned right on Norte 229 and I saw a line of cars. I looked at my right and there was a tight gap that I can escape from traffic so I crashed through a telephone booth, which spilled out coins. The coins spilling out brought in a crowd of children to collect the coins from my crash. The police motorcycle saw me crashing and was unable to catch me due too many collecting coins. I looked back with relief before crashing into a hardware store in front of me. I crashed the car inside which spilled lots of paints, all warm colorful paints onto my black car. The airbag exploded and I kicked the car door out, and the owner was coming at me and yelling at me for what I have done to his store. The police sirens were catching up to me so I pulled out my gun, which startled the owner and left the scene.
I then opened up the glove box and pulled out two flash grenades. I got out of the car, pulled the pin, and threw a flash grenade at the police cars. The grenade exploded a bright blinding light. The driver was blinded by this and crashed into a grocery store across the street, while the other car crashed behind the other car. I limped walked to a motorcycle parking lot where onlookers were looking at me. One motorcyclist quivered in my presence; he was driving a Yamaha motorcycle. I pointed my gun from the hip at him, "Llaves, ahora." (Keys, now.)
He gave his keys and I said to him again, "Corre." (Run.) He ran away. My right leg was broken from the crash so changing the gearshift was painful. "I'm coming for you!" I switched the gearshift, revved the engine, and drove away from the scene.
