Disclaimer: Me no own Devil May Cry. Me do own Emilia.
A/N: Changed my author's name from crazy-doesn't-cover-it to cleverusernamehere. I'm so creative, right? :D I'd like to think that my writing style has improved and/or settled down, so I'm tweaking this story a bit before I POSSIBLY begin writing a sequel to this. Don't give your hopes up!
Emilia had known since she was very young that she was different.
It wasn't that kind of different that meant you were eccentric or socially awkward. It was fundamentally different—in appearance, in body, in soul. She wasn't quite human.
The young woman sighed as she wiped the fog caused by her shower from her bathroom mirror, and she studied her reflection. That was the most noticeable difference between her and the people of Fortuna. They were all residents of a port city, and generations of being exposed to the sun and sultry heat had made most of the people dark-haired and brown-eyed with warmly-colored skin tones.
Emilia's hair was a flaming shade of red-gold. Her skin was hopelessly alabaster. She had eyes the color of molten gold, and they were as sharp as her blade.
She wouldn't have minded looking a little out of place had it not lead to the other...well, other things.
The...other things could best be summed up during the time she came into existence. Emilia's mother was young and maybe just a bit too wild for an heir to one of the highly-respected noble families of Fortuna. A handsome stranger wandered into town...and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the rest. The handsome stranger mysteriously disappeared, the family found out about her mother's pregnancy, and out she was. Disowned.
It turned out no one even knew who (or what) he was. Hell, no one ever even bothered to get his name, not even her own mother. An exceedingly well-coordinated conquest on her father's part...the sly bastard.
Those otherthings really didn't become noticeable until she began training as a Knight of the Order at the tender age of twelve. She remembered picking up a sword for the very first time. The settle of the hilt in her palm felt familiar, and the balanced weight of the blade felt so natural that it actually scared her. That uncanny sensation also transferred to the practice fields, where she could easily defeat men who had three or four years experience over her. Even when she sparred casually, the adrenaline immediately rushed into her system and sharpened everything.
She was faster, more clever, and even more immune to injury. At the end of the day, when everyone returned home nursing bruises and cuts, she found her skin completely unmarred, even when there was evidence that a wound had been there previously.
It wasn't long enough after her training began that her mother's family began to notice. Her mother's family quite despised her, as she was a blemish on their prestigious bloodline, but it seemed as if the head of the Order, Sanctus, was quite interested in her abilities. In order to gain his favor, her grandfather quickly signed her over to be a guinea pig for Sanctus' research scientist, Agnus.
She was sworn to utter secrecy. Not a peep to anyone.
Not that anyone would believe me anyway, she thought sourly to herself as she shrugged on her long, high-collared gray coat over her form-fitting black tee. She sat down and pulled her lightweight gray boots over the slim legs of her cream-colored pants.
Emilia stepped out of her bathroom and into her small bedroom. Her bedroom was relatively plain and neat except for all the drawings that were tacked to the walls around her bed. It was a talent she supposedly received from her mother, and it really helped her clear her head sometimes. It could be really hard to concentrate for a while after the adrenaline (or demonic energies?) kicked her system into overdrive, when everything was so acutely defined her brain couldn't quite keep up.
She walked over to her desk and picked up her latest drawing, the tall man dressed in a trench coat that had appeared in one of her dreams. Emilia had simply colored his trench coat, which was a bold shade of crimson. Grabbing a tack, she paced back over to her bed and pinned him beside a drawing of her family: her Uncle Amandus and his son, Leonidas (the ones who took her in with open arms after her mother's death).
With a satisfied smile, she moved away from her bed and grabbed her utility belt and sword from their respective pegs on the wall. She strapped them both on and tugged on them to make sure they were fastened securely. As she left her room, she grabbed her house key and safely stowed it away in one of the pouches of her utility belt.
She was, unfortunately, ready to head out for duty that day.
–
Seriously, this is why she hated walking out in public. That lovely little demonic conscience in the back of her mind, for some reason, immensely enjoyed making lewd comments about any handsome man that dared walk anywhere near her (even her own cousin, Leon, as she called him). It was supremely disturbing to know that perverse thing was supposed to be part of her!
And, you know, the general populace staring at her like she was going to explode didn't necessarily help, either.
Emilia made it to Headquarters without catching the morning rush to the market, thankfully. She received her responsibilities for the day, so she went straight to work assisting the town folk as she was required; and she was finished by lunch. After a quick snack, she headed toward the practice fields, hoping to snatch up the fields for herself while everyone was at lunch.
By the grace of some higher power, the fields were devoid of human life. She drew her sword, Shadow's Bane, and breathed in deeply as she concentrated on a single wooden block near the edges of their designated practice area.
Emilia didn't even get to make contact with the block before several Order members emerged from the foliage, laughing and grinning at her in a way that made her insides boil with anger.
It wasn't long after they opened their mouths that Emilia completely lost it.
–
I should really stop doing this kinda thing, Emilia thought to herself as she was seated outside her commander's office.
Her demon snickered at the lack of resolve in that statement.
Emilia liked to think of herself as calm, cautious girl who preferred not to say very much. The only thing was...she had one beastly temper. There were really only three fundamental things that could rile her up enough to snap, and they were: insulting her hair color, insulting her height (she had a bit of an inferiority complex), and being a sexist jerk. Other times, bugs, sweat, gore, burping, farting, perverted jokes, and other offensive things dumb guys liked didn't affect her.
Now that she really thought about it, she didfeel a little guilty about going so insane on that one guy that she also ended up injuring his not-quite-as-involved buddies. All they did was just stand there and laugh.
On second though, she didn't really feel guilty at all.
So, she sat there, stewing in her own juices, until Credo called her in. When she entered the room, a white-haired kid was also standing in front of Credo's desk. He turned, and his expression turned into one of surprise before it changed into an amused smirk. "Oh, she's the one that kicked their asses? How old is she? Twelve?"
Emilia could feel her blood-pressure rising dangerously by just looking at him. She had had a few run-ins with this male, and none of them were very pleasant. First one being the first time she ever had to spar with him during their training. That was one of the few times she had every been defeated, and she couldn't find it in her heart to forgive him. Not one bit.
She glared at him dryly. "And how old are you? Eighty?"
He was silenced. She made sure the smile she gave him wasn't very nice.
"Be quiet, both of you," Credo commanded venomously.
Both she and the white-haired male shifted uncomfortably at this tone. Emilia muttered "He started it," so inaudibly that there could have been no possible way he could have heard it, but Credo turned at glared at her sharply.
She glanced down at her feet. "Yes, sir."
Nero had heard what she said, so he couldn't help but smirk at this.
Credo straightened the papers he had been glancing at several moments before he glanced toward Nero. "If you would please step out for a moment, Nero."
The white-haired male nodded and headed for the door, leaving Emilia and Credo by themselves.
Credo's gaze shifted back toward Emilia, who tried her best not to squirm under that penetrating gaze. "Now, would you care to explain why several of my knights are in the healing ward?"
She crossed her arms and scowled. "They wouldn't leave me alone."
He sighed in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Emilia couldn't stop herself from blurting out, "Would you want to be made fun of all the time?"
Credo paused just for a moment. "I suppose I wouldn't. But that does not give you the right to attack anyone! Emilia, you have to gain self-control!"
She could feel her expression crumple. In all honesty, self-control was really difficult to achieve at times. It didn't help that her demon seemed to goad her on in a lot of situations, and that the demon herself would suddenly rise up and force her energy through Emilia's veins. Not to mention sometimes shouldn't couldn't concentrate or keep still, and it was all the product of housing a hot-blooded, battle-thirsty demon.
Her commander found himself sighing at her kicked-puppy expression. His gentleman's complex was eating him alive. "I'm sorry, Emilia, but I have to put you on probation."
"What! No!"
That meant she was forbidden to go to the training grounds for a month, and it also greatly limited what kinds of missions she could take during that month. That meant she couldn't vent on the dummies in the fields (human or not), and that also meant a nice little whack in her paycheck this month. Oh, for the love of the Savior, she was going to be so immensely bored! Drawing could only entertain her for so long, and her uncle and cousin were relatively busy people.
Credo attempted to say something, but she cut him off. "Yeah, I know. My fault," she said sadly. "It can't be helped until I learn to control my temper. I get it."
He gave a small smile of approval at her admittance before he gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Now take a seat. You're not going to like this."
Emilia hesitantly slid into one of the uncomfortably hard-backed chairs as Credo called Nero back in. As he took seat, Credo seemed to be steeling himself for something terrible. He picked up a sheaf of white papers and stacked them neatly together. "Now, I need to the both of you to report to a client on the outskirts of the city. It seems a dense cluster of demons have been spotted near the forests."
There was a stunned silence. They were actually being asked to pair up for a mission? Then the eruption of an argument ensued.
"Hell, no!" Nero argued. "Not with her, at least!" He despised group missions, and he despised her even more. They had clashed several times in the past already.
Emilia scoffed, "You know he wouldn't be able to take the heat."
"What the fuck did you just say?"
"If you're in the way when I perform Inferno, you'll be ashes in mere seconds! A cocky dumbass like you would do just that!"
"You understand," Credo interrupted in a threatening tone, "I could put you both on restriction."
They both shut up. That meant no missions at all.
"Now," he said in a more business-like manner, "this is the information for your mission. Report back to me when you have completed it. You are both dismissed." He tossed Emilia the packet.
The two hunters shuffled out of the room, grumbling under their breaths.
Oh, what a fun day this was going to be.
Feed my raging ego and click the review button! :DD (Though, pointing out grammar mistakes and such is also nice as well.)