Gosh, my first DGM fanfic! I'm just stating to get that out there, that and I'm reflecting on the fact that everytime I write another fanfic you can almost guarantee that it will be in a different category from the one I wrote last time... unless it's Kingdom Hearts. I write a hell of a lot of that.

But, in any case, first DGM. I think I am not completely, totally, fully up-to-date with the latest couple of chapters since I am currently in the process of moving interstate about 3000km and I'm lazy. This story is supposed to slot somewhere into the canon and essentially be non-consequential. As always, I'm slightly anxious about the reader response because I'm writing in a totally new category (again) but I hope that this at least amuses people. let me know what you think of this prologue and I'll see what I can do about getting the rest of it up in a timely manner (I'm not good at uploading in a timely manner, you see).

Okay, so, Disclaimer: I don't own DGM. I wrote this in my hobby time (and sometimes in my homework time) because I got bored and started using my imagination.

Prologue

Allen leaped to avoid a flurry of acid spit projected from a Level III akuma's wide, gaping mouth. It was already excited. All of its eyes swivelled on its helmet to search out his agile form and keep an eye on him. Allen summoned his exorcising sword from his left arm. The akuma reached for him. He activated his Clown Belt to hold it down and sliced off one of its arms. It shrieked in indignation.

"My arm! Curse you, Allen Walker!"

Allen paid no mind to its infuriated screaming. It was a machine; its arm could be replaced but Allen could not allow it to live for that long. It tried to slap him into the ground – this one was particularly large. Allen rolled out of the way and cut half of its arm off at the elbow. It screamed at him again, swiping at him with the bleeding stump. The Exorcist jumped onto the remaining half of its arm to avoid the blood splatters and ran up to its shoulder. He leapt into the air when it turned its giant jaws towards him either to bite or spit more acid. Allen adjusted the weight of the sword in his hand. The akuma lifted its head and hissed at him, preparing to shoot more acid. It only managed a meagre fountain before Allen cut through its entire body. The two halves split neatly and folded away limply like paper. It began to crumble. The soul trapped in the dark mist emerged, shedding its chains with a smile. Allen smiled back.

This soul like all others held the appearance of its owner when seen through Allen's left eye. It was a blue-eyed woman wearing a white blouse and a rose pink, knee-length skirt with long chestnut-coloured hair that curled delightfully and bounced in the breeze. She would have been so beautiful if it weren't for the reptilian scales stretching across her skin and spreading like a disease. Spiky spines were growing along her shins and the outside of her forearms and also along the shell of her ear, giving her an elfin-eared appearance.

"Allen Walker," she whispered, reaching out to him. She was already being drawn away to her judgment before God. Her outstretched hand kept her anchored to the world for a few seconds longer to deliver her final message. "Your mother's name was Jennifer Morrow."

She disappeared to meet her fate, leaving Allen in shock. A spark of mixed emotions snapped through his heart. For all these years Allen had held nothing for his mother or father; the people who had abandoned him as a baby for nothing but the cosmetic ugliness of his left arm. However, hearing his mother's name made his heart skip a beat and something like hope was growing inside him. He didn't know if it was true or if he could believe the woman's soul but with his mother's name a window of opportunity to research was opening before him. He could find out who she is, where she is, and maybe even meet her!

"Allen Walker!" Link snapped, breaking Allen out of his reverie. "You've destroyed the akuma and the innocence is secured. We need to get rid of this homeless bum and return to headquarters."

Allen turned to him and cocked his head to the side. Link was standing before him trying to maintain his composed facial appearance while struggling in a tug-of-war with golden goblet against an old, crippled man dressed in rags. Timcanpy hovered above them merely watching despite its opportunity to intervene at any time.

"You can't take that from me!" the man yelled. "That's how I survive!"

That goblet was what they'd been searching for. The old man – they hadn't yet gotten his name – had been using it to tell fortunes and make an income since apparently whenever he poured something into it the drinker could see a brief but vague vision of the future. Some even alleged that the goblet gave them a holy experience, like a glimpse at heaven or hell and other such things. It might make a great addition to the Order's collection, but it didn't look like the tug-of-war was ending any time soon. Allen sighed, thinking of the only way he could get this to stop.

"You know, Link, maybe we should just take the old man with us. Did it ever occur to you that he could be the one who's compatible with it?" Allen asked.

Link paused. It seemed that thought hadn't crossed the other's mind. The homeless man looked confused.

"Eh? Compatible? What're you going on about? That cup makes me money and that's all I care about. I'm not letting you run off with it!"

"Let's put it this way," Allen said with a sigh, "Just accept that you're compatible and come with us to the Black Order. We work for the Vatican so anything worth money is covered by the Church."

"Are you serious?" the man gasped.

"Absolutely," Allen replied. "The Order gives you everything you need. How about it?"

The man grumbled, still looking sceptical about this too-good-to-be-true offer. Finally he snorted. "Fine, but only if I get to keep my cup."