Prologue
This city was once a sprawling metropolitan.
In its designs and works, were once tall skyscrapers reaching out to the skies. In the streets below were historical precedence, areas filled with rich memories of a past long gone.
Many would come to haggle in its streets; and though it wasn't perfect, the people lived happy and content lives.
A jewel of any nation. An oasis of the sands.
And yet…
"I need you to press here!"
It became a war zone.
"Where's the hemostat!"
Its tall skyscrapers brought low by constant artillery shells. The once lively streets, now empty.
"C–Captain," gasped a wounded soldier. He lay on a stretcher, surrounded by doctors and nurses working furiously to save his life.
"Captain," he repeated, reaching out with a blood-stained hand. "Th–they're dead. They're all d–dead."
The man at his side reached out, gently grabbing hold.
At that moment, amongst the yelling and discord, were only the eyes of his soldier.
Wounded.
Hysterical.
Terrified.
"P–please," he choked. "Don't s–send anyone back."
The Captain continued to silently observe, a solemn look in his eyes as the soldier struggled to keep his bearing, tears running down his cheek.
A pause. The soldier's eyes widened, staring into an abyss only he can see.
"There–in the church–I saw it," he whispered.
"A portal to Hell."
A gloved hand in his shoulder, a doctor yelling for him to leave, pulling him away. Yet, in the chaos and tribulations of screaming medical staff, he heard the man with perfect clarity.
"There was something waiting for us there," his voice flat and eyes filled with hysteria.
They say fear can make a man hallucinate. That even the most courageous have a breaking point.
"I–I saw her, Captain."
Nothing is more apparent when finally realizing that the world you once knew, was a lie.
"The Devil–" he whispered.
"–is real."
And in the chaos of the field hospital, where soldiers lay to rest–
–a man screamed.
It is said that Man is the master of his own fate. That behind every sprawling achievement was a rational and sound mind.
And though humanity once struggled against the unknowns of the world, they soon set out to dominate it.
Acts of nature that were once attributed to gods were now known to be a natural phenomenon. Diseases of the flesh, a product of bacteria.
With knowledge, came power. And with that power, humanity thrived.
The monsters of the past withered and died under this new age of enlightenment.
Soon, they became nothing more than myths. Stories of a more primitive era, regulated to mere entertainment.
Refusing to lay idly by, they lurked amongst the shadows, watching, waiting...for the opportune time to strike.
But there are those that remembered the past. Those that refuse to look away from the depths of the abyss. Because despite all their power, they knew–deep down–humanity still remained powerless.
"Onii-chan, get up! Your alarm has been going off for a while now!"
In a town far off into the east, a boy stirs.
"Yeah, yeah…" He muttered, still mostly asleep.
"Geez!"
A young girl kicked his bed as she glared at her older brother, his eyes still closed. She was dressed in a tan school uniform, her black ponytail swinging as she stared at her impassive brother.
"That's it!" she muttered angrily to herself before ripping the blanket off of him as hard as she can.
The boy curled up, turning himself over as he continued to doze off, a goofy smile on his face as he drooled. The younger sister grounded her teeth in frustration before a wicked smile entered her face.
A pair of grey eyes glared at his younger sister across from him at the dining table.
"Kouho, you know, you didn't have to pour cold water on my head."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Onii-chan," she happily responded back before chewing on a piece of breakfast.
He gave her a flat look.
"I–"
"Maybe it was a dream? Or a sign maybe?" she wondered, looking up while tapping her chin.
"Or maybe Nii-san just pissed his pants," snickered the younger brother, eyes glued to his phone.
"Like I ever piss my pants..." he muttered.
"Maybe if you would just get up on time, you wouldn't pee your pants, Onii-chan," she smiled mockingly.
He frowned. "Kouho–"
"Sorry, I have more important things to do than continue talking to you," she interrupted. "Thanks for the meal!" she pushed herself from the table and jogged to the front of the entrance. She said her farewell to the family and stuck her tongue out at him before going out of view.
I swear, that girl. And she used to be such a cute kid too. He grumbled and sighed to himself.
"Man, you really pissed her off this time, 'Onii-chan,'" the young boy snidely commented as they heard the front door shut, his eyes still on the phone.
"Is it really that bad, Gousei?" he said slamming his head on the table, frowning.
And I was having such a sexy dream too.
An older man with greying hair chuckled at the end of the table, flipping a page of his newspaper.
"Do you really have to ask?" he answered instead. "She has to do it every day since you sleep like a rock."
The older brother looked up. "But dad, c'mon; water, really? Can't she, I don't know, just wake me up like a normal person?"
A middle-aged woman walked out of the kitchen, a plate of food in her hand.
"Dear, you should already know that she tried," she chided, "you were just hard to wake up on this particular morning."
"It's probably the weather," she added, taking a seat by her husband. "It's been getting cold lately. And besides, it was her turn to wake you up."
"Wow, mom, isn't it her turn every time since we all kind of gave up?" snickered the younger brother.
The mother laughed while the older brother continued to eat, a slight frown on his face.
"You better hurry and finish, boys," the mom said, wiping the last traces of her chuckle, "before you're late for school too."
"Hey, unlike Nii-san here, I can actually get up on time."
"True," she agreed, taking a sip of her warm tea.
The eldest brother got up, finished with his breakfast, and took his plate with him.
"Dear, take your sister's plate, why don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, taking the extra dish and walking to the kitchen.
At the dining table, the father continued his morning ritual, flipping through the pages of his paper, until his face turned grim.
"Look at this," the father indicated, his tone serious.
His wife leaned in from his side, skimming through the article her husband pointed out. "Oh my, that's terrible."
"What is?" asked Gousei, looking up from his phone.
"Probably the fire in Tokyo," answered the older brother, as he exited the kitchen. "It was bad. The whole family died before they were able to escape their home."
The father shook his head at the tragedy. "It said that it happened because of some faulty wiring. The family didn't notice a thing initially because it was in the middle of the night."
"Hmm, yeah, sad stuff," Genshirou Saji yawned. "Well anyways, I'm heading out," he grabbed his bag and umbrella, giving a shallow wave.
Thunder rumbled from the distance, signifying the onset of a coming storm.
"Come back safe," the mother muttered, eyes still glued to the newspaper.
There are days when time seems to blend together. Where the dreams of the future stay trapped in the utopia of tomorrow.
We find ourselves, hoping, enduring, standing at the shores under an all-encompassing twilight, wishing for it to just...end.
What are we if not for this purpose? When one's life is regulated towards the gaze of an unreachable future.
When does effort turn into longing? A poison of the heart.
I've seen it time and time again. In the faces of those I passed by.
Where a boy stands among the common masses; a man desperate to forget.
Where the self-aware marches on, fearful of the tellings of his own heart. While another willingly falls from the light, all for the sake of his own tomorrow.
Fools. All of them. Lied too by the false good-will of a dead world.
But there are times, standing at the shores under the night sky, where I see it.
In the ever distant horizon of the black sea.
A soft glow…
...a semblance of light...
...the coming of the sun.
She stood at the thresholds of a ruined church, just in the outskirts of the ruined city. A figure in black.
It was raining now, the booming sounds of thunder just above.
She took a step forward, the shadows slithering at her feet, seemingly alive.
This was where they were last seen. A missing squad of soldiers sent to investigate the hearsay of monsters that lurked in the corners of a temple abandoned by God.
A perfect place for the unnatural to hide.
Undeterred, she continued, rows and rows of pews at her sides.
Echoes of her footsteps reverberated its abandoned walls, unperturbed by the mockings of the night.
She felt the tip of her boot hit something–catching her attention, a blood-soaked rifle at her feet.
And at that moment–silence.
"Another…"
It rasped.
"...visitor."
The freelancer drew her hands out from under her black poncho, wrapped by some fingerless gloves, and pushed back the fabric from her head, revealing her face.
A timeless beauty with porcelain white skin, short and pitch, black hair like the night, and eyes like pure amethyst. They were hidden behind violet glass frames. A delicate looking young woman more akin to a doll than a human.
Cloaked in the blessings of death, she asked, her voice soft, "Were you the one who did this?"
The walls moaned and rasped as if to answer and mock her very question.
That's when she appeared.
The sickening sounds of crackles and pops could be heard as she emerged from the shadows. Contorted like the undead, the blackness of the abyss clung to her side; her hair long and course. Pieces of clothing wrapped around her in unseemingly ways as an unknown liquid dripped after her every bear step.
The visitor drew her hand in a calm gaze, her violet eyes glowing. Water, appearing like a snake, coiled around her porcelain arm, ready to strike.
"Let me ask you once more," she asked. "Did you do this?"
She smiled her twisted smile and with it, so did the Shadows.
Author's Note–
Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to In the Agency of Desire. A story where I will be attempting to bring focus on characters hardly explored in most DxD fanfics. So don't worry, no OC main characters.
As you can tell, this story relies heavily on mystery through the select use of information presented. It will also contain elements of horror, partially inspired by Ju-On and the 2004 Japanese horror film, Infection, or Kansen.
Also, this is my first real attempt at fanfiction, so those reviews really do help; but regardless, thank you for reading.
Partially rewritten 13/5/2018