The street outside the hotel was completely deserted, save for a few stragglers. He had no idea what this girl even looked like; all he knew was that she was closely related with his uncle.

His uncle...

He was the whole reason Dimentio was even here. This whole city was full of a mix of people; he hated that in itself. He preferred when everyone looked alike, to be quite honest. He hated feeling like he was the only one who had a plan, a purpose. And what he hated above all was how much fear this Count Bleck seemed to stir.

'Count Bleck' was merely an alias for Blumiere Macnair, never seen out in public, and whenever he was spotted, the person who had spotted him refused to give away any details...or disappeared. And Dimentio had no reason why he decided to send him to live with his mother and father, Mariah and Daemon Rivincita. He didn't mind that so much as he could only remember his uncle's secretary kicking him (literally) out the door.

And he didn't know what he did to deserve that.

This girl said she would pick him up. She wouldn't tell him her name, but he had a vague idea of what to do if she turned out to be, say, an axe-murderer.

Would she even pick up the right person? He didn't seem to blend in with the street; his outfit was all too neat and clean for this particular side of town. The homeless man a few feet away was wearing a dirty gray hoodie and picking through a box of old...somethings. Dimentio, on the other hand, was casually leaning against the side of the building, dressed in a blue dress shirt and navy blue pants, a matching jacket hung over his shoulder. He looked much too out of place, and this girl had better be sure who she was even looking for, because if he had to even stand-

Finally, a car with dark-tinted windows pulled up. Dimentio didn't even flinch.

The window on the driver's side rolled down, and a girl not a day over thirteen stuck her head out.

"...Uh, Dimentio Rivincita? Am I saying that right?"

"That would be me," Dimentio smirked. The man in the hoodie mumbled under his breath and threw something at him. Ducking, Dimentio hurried for the passenger door.

"Uh," He said, still looking at that person. He didn't like the way he was glaring at him. "Aren't you a little young to be driving a car?"

The girl snorted. "No. I'm twenty years old, genius."

Dimentio gave a double-take at her. Besides her childish appearance, she was wearing the most absurd pink dress; something you would find someone wearing on Halloween. Her hair was a bright shade of green and pulled into pigtails tied with pink ribbon. She was glaring at him, and Dimentio looked away.

"So you're who Daddy wants to see?"

"Daddy?" Dimentio asked, staring straight ahead as the girl started the car. "You look nothing like him."

"I was adopted," The girl said absently.

The two sat there in silence, the only sound being the car's engine.

"Do you have a name?" Dimentio asked.

The girl scowled. "Mimi," She snapped.

"Is that honest to god your real hair?"

"Of course, stupid," Mimi said. "Are you just here to be stupid and annoy me?"

"I was kidding," Dimentio said. Crap. If she was anyone other than Blumiere's daughter, he wouldn't have stopped with the banter. He figured he was in deep enough shit; he didn't need anything else going wrong today.

Now out of the dark side to the city, Dimentio could kind of see what was so appealing. It wasn't that bad to look at; it was the middle of October, and the streets seemed to glow bright orange with the lights strung every few feet. Hard to believe he was almost killed earlier by a random freak off the street. He still, however, got the sense that something was seriously wrong around here; all the smiles he managed to see seemed forced, faked. Then he remembered his uncle had this city under his thumb.

Seven years ago he was eighteen, and seven years ago he was kicked out of this place. He couldn't remember what he was doing, but he knew it wasn't good. At all. More like he was walking down the hall one minute, and falling hard on the street the next, an insane smile on his blood-covered face. That was sometime around Christmas; he could clearly remember it, because it was the same year that his father was murdered. Mudered by the whore he was cheating on his wife with, blah blah, it happens all the time, nobody cares.

Dimentio cared. Especially because of what happened in his childhood. Especially because of Daemon.

"I hope you're ready," Said Mimi suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "'Cuz Daddy's not going to be nice."

"As long as Timpani's there, he won't do shit," Dimentio muttered. Mimi shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know. Mom was kind of mad at you, too. I was, too."

Dimentio turned to look at her. "You? I never knew you. I only just met you."

"Really?" Mimi said suddenly. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Oh. Yeah."

Dimentio went back to ignoring her. He already didn't like this girl.


The Alucard's estate was only a few miles outside of the city. It was rather impressive; it was practically-no, it was a castle. Mimi pulled into the large detached garage, stepping out of the car in a hurry.

Dimentio closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. This was it. Now or never.

He followed Mimi outside. There was a full moon, and with her back facing away from the light, her eyes seemed to be a bright carnelian shade of red. Although he had no right to be wary of people's eyes (His own were a dark gray and bright yellow) he still didn't like the look of them.

"Quit staring," Mimi snapped, then stomped up towards the front doors. Dimentio followed suit, taking in the sight of it. He couldn't remember this building. Maybe Blumiere was in his smaller, but still large, home closer to the city. Or maybe he couldn't remember this, too.

Without even knocking, or doing so much as to announce it was her, she pushed open the massive black door.

"Mimi?"

She turned around suddenly; obviously, she wasn't expecting the secretary to be there.

"Nassy!" She said, her mouth breaking into a grin. "I got him!"

"Yeah," Nastasia said, shooting Dimentio a distrusting look. "I can see that."

"Ms. Nastasia," Dimentio said curtly. Nastasia was about as tall as Mimi, and her hair was a similar unusual shade of pink. She always had on the same dark red glasses and similar looking pantsuit. She gave him a small nod, then waved him along.

"Mr. Alucard is a very busy man, as you may know, and he agreed to speak with you briefly. Don't try any brown-nosing, k? I wouldn't advise it."

"Surely he would love to see his long lost nephew?" Dimentio asked sarcastically. Nastasia paused halfway up the stairs.

"You're not welcome here, k?" She said, her voice suddenly hostile. "Nobody wants you around after what happened."

The point was, Dimentio had no idea what happened, and it was why he was seeing this blasted man. But let her be threatening; he could kill her right now. He honestly could.

After all, he had done it before.


"Mr. Alucard?" Nastasia said, tapping on the door.

"Blumiere," A voice said from inside. "I've told you before, Nastasia, the formalities aren't necessary here."

"...Right," Nastasia said, flushing pink. "Uh, yeah. I'm sending him in."

Dimentio could practically hear Blumiere freezing.

"Of course, send him," He finally said after a moment's hesitation.

"Good luck," Nastasia said sarcastically as Dimentio pushed open the door.

Blumiere was staring at the place Dimentio stood as if he was the door itself. His long, dark hair was tied back, and he was wearing a monocle over his right eye. He leaned forward across the desk, hands folded.

"Hello," Dimentio said awkardly.

"Why are you here?" Blumiere asked, still looking as if he hadn't seen Dimentio.

Dimentio felt his temper flare slightly. "You know damn well why I'm here."

"If you remember clearly," Blumiere said, "I told you to stay away from me."

"I don't believe this," Dimentio said. "It's been nearly ten years. When will you get over this?"

"Never," Blumiere said, voice cold. "You expect me to forgive you, after what you did?"

"It was all for the best," Dimentio said, mouth curling into that familiar smile.

"The best for you," Blumiere snapped.

"Ah ha. I only have your best interests in mind," Dimentio laughed, walking over and standing in front of the desk. Blumiere finally looked up at him.

"My best interests. Of course."

"Now, I only have one question to ask of you, dear 'Count'," Dimentio said. Blumiere's eyes narrowed slightly at the use of the name.

"Go ahead."

"I only wish to stay here for a little while. Observe. See what goes on."

Blumiere scowled. "Try again. What did you want?"

"Simple," Dimentio said. "I want to stay and observe your...unusual career."

"This isn't a matter of business," Blumiere snapped.

"Which business?" Dimentio said. "The chain of restaurants you own, or your more interesting occupation?"

"Neither," Blumiere said. "I just want to get your filthy feet off my carpet."

Dimentio stood back and spat on the floor, then wiped his feet on the spot. He looked back up at his uncle and smiled.

"Satisfied?" He said, turning to leave.

Blumiere snorted. "Fine, then I won't tell you."

Dimentio paused. "...What?"

"If you would gladly take a seat, then maybe I would let you have a word."

Dimentio turned around. He took a seat in the chair that Blumiere had dragged in front of the desk. "So," He said. "What will it be?"

"Perhaps neither," Blumiere said. "Maybe I won't let you leave here alive."

"How is that cat you had?" Dimentio asked suddenly. "Nasty thing tried biting my leg off."

"It died," Blumiere answered warily.

"Pity. And what about my room? Did you end up throwing my things out?"

"No."

"What did you have for lunch?"

"What are you asking me this for?" Blumiere snapped. Dimentio smiled.

"Small talk, I suppose."

Blumiere shuddered. "Are you insane?"

"Of course not," Dimentio said, smiling in a way that completely contradicted his words. "I simply have goals, like you, and will not stop until I succeed."

"Is your goal here to persuade me of something?"

"I would be of amazing help to you," Dimentio said, standing up. "Better, in fact, if you would let me show you what I'm capable of. After all, I've heard your boss values people like me."

Blumiere was silent.

"You, Count Bleck, who make all of your enemies and that of your boss disappear. How do you do it, is what I want to know. How do you make it like they never existed, even that their homes vanish, and their families have no memory of them?"

"Simple," Blumiere said. "So simple it could blow your already blown mind thinking about it. But I won't tell you."

"You simply must have a goal from all this," Dimentio said. "Money, maybe? Maybe, hell, the pursuit of happiness?"

Blumiere cocked his head slightly.

"Let me prove my worth, and I will take back what happened seven years ago. As unforgivable as that was, I promise that I will be able to make up for it."

Blumiere grit his teeth. Dimentio smiled, but on the inside he was screaming. What did he do? How can his ability make up for it? Can it even do that?

Finally, his uncle sighed.

"Go. Just leave. Find somewhere to stay in town, and maybe I'll give you an answer."

Dimentio threw on a mocking smile and bowed. "Of course, my Count, of course."