Crimson: A Devil May Cry Fanfiction

Author's Note: And I'm back for another chapter of Crimson! The same disclaimers apply as before, of course. And perhaps a few reviews for this chapter? Some constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

As if things couldn't go worse for me, having not written fanfiction in a year, I wrote this whole thing in first person, before realizing things seemed rushed when I wrote like that, so I had to go back and rewrite in all in third. That's why it took me so long to update. Sorry!

And… the chapter is short! I'm sorry! But, yeah, I had to rewrite all of it, and didn't have time to expand. I have a chapter-a-week-at-least minimum for myself.

Crimson

Chapter One

                Although it was only September, and pleasantly warm during the day, the cold air of night crept through Mackenzie's thin jacket, and she shivered.  The rustle of leaves made her nervous, as did the dark. Midnight, it was a God-awful time to ask someone to come out, but that was how Dante did things. She quickly checked her watch. No, she was on time. Perhaps she came too early and this was why she had been waiting too long? So where was this Dante Sparda? Nowhere in Mackenzie's was sight, but that was limited. The moon was new, no sliver of it shone through the trees, and she was without a flashlight, or any way of seeing what was around her, for there where no streetlights in this section of town.

                The sound of a booted figure moving swiftly across fallen leaves first informed her of his presence. Swiftly Mackenzie turned around and faced Dante, examining the figure carefully. Cloaked in red, silver hair shining, dark eyes looking menacingly at the house behind her, this Dante frightened her.

                "Dante Sparda?" Mackenzie asked, crossing the ground between them is a few quick steps.

                He nodded. "You're the one that called," Dante remarked, making it clear that it was not a question, rather a statement. Dante did not seem one for questions.

                "Yes. My name is Mackenzie McAuthor," the girl paused, "Just call me 'Zie." Although Dante didn't look interest in her name, rather his eyes were locked on that of the house, and motioning towards it he asked her if that was the place she had called him to examine. Mackenzie nodded a simple yes.

                The silver-haired man walked rapidly past Mackenzie, towards the front of the house. She remained silent this whole time, before trotting on after him, ducking under tree branches that reached to catch her ratty blonde hair and clothing.

                Dante turned, eyeing her suspiciously, "You aren't coming. I work alone."

                "No, I am. I want to be there if you run into my friend."

                His only response as he opened the door to the mansion was an annoyed grunt. Mackenzie peered over his shoulder, looking into the dark depths of house. Footprints were left in the dusty grime that layered the flooring, remnants of the house being left alone for so long. Dante did not hesitate to walk in, and she followed, running her hand across the dusty surface of the end table, positioned next to the doorway, watching as the particles floated up around her.

                Carefully Mackenzie looked around the room, curtains hung tattered, a sofa lay rotting across from the door, the single window so dirty no light could shine through even if it was day. It was the perfect setting of a horror story, and equally as frightening.

                "You were right about one thing, babe, there's definitely a demon presence in this house," Dante remarked, moving across the room, occasionally taking something from a table to look at it, although mostly he just examined the room as the younger of the two did, simply looking, not touching.

                "Don't call me 'babe,' " was Mackenzie's only response.

                Mackenzie watched Dante as he walked about the room, remaining silent. Both Dante and the girl should have taken the silence as a warning, for soon Mackenzie could sense eyes watching her  from the shadows, causing her to quickly look at the top of the stairs. Deep eyes of red stared down at she, no physical body was within her sight, though. Her throat paralyzed with fear of this creature, she wanted to scream, to yell out, to warm Dante of this creature, this thing, but no sound would come.

                She could see now this creature had a cat-like shade to it, as it pawed its way toward her, leaping silently down the last few steps, poised to kill, its deadly eyes staring deep into that of Mackenzie's. Was this how it felt when you knew you were going to die? was the only thought to pound away in her mind. She closed her eyes, throat still refusing to let her call for help.

                A single shot rang out.

                Her eyes snapped open, and she stood looking on as Dante sprang into action, swiftly drawing his sword and taking a clean slice out of the thing, unrecognizable to Mackenzie. The battle pursued, small droplets of blood lined their battle ground, and the silent observer was unable to tell if they belong to Dante or the demon. Part of her didn't want to know, for fear it was Dante, although soon her fears were proven faulty when the demon fell to the ground, writhing in pain before laying still, dead.

                The battle was over, but Mackenzie's fear was still fresh.  Collapsing to her knees, she shuddered in fright, before looking to Dante, her voice hushed but calm, "What the hell was that thing?"

                "A shadow," he said, acting as if the answer was the most obvious thing of all.

                "Shadows don't attack people."

                Dante frowned, turning to look at her, clearly seeing Mackenzie as nothing but a frightened child. A hopeless young girl who would only complicate things. "I told you not to come along. Get out of here. Now," his voice was cruel, commanding. It was clear she was getting in his way, but Mackenzie was stubborn, choosing to refuse to listen, to stay.

                "No," Mackenzie's own voice surprised her, the finality in it. She stood up, pushing past him and storming up the stairway, "There's obviously nothing down here." Although for all the power her words held, the moment Dante's hand touched her shoulder, in clear attempt to force her back down the stairs and out the door, she yelped with fear.

                "Leave. Now."

                "No."

                Dante forced her to look at him, his eyes piercing in to hers, clouded with annoyance, and anger. "I told you to leave. You're only getting in my way," he growled, shaking her to add effect.

                "I would be happy to leave," she hissed, through clenched teeth, tempted to slap the man, "but someone very important to me happens to be lost in this house, and I want to be there if you run into him." Mackenzie pulled away from him, walking up the rest of the stairway, glancing around the dim area, squinting to see into corners. Slowly she walked farther forward, into the first room that caught her eye.

                Black curtains billowed from the windows, also dark with grime. A large mirror, with an intricate gold frame, caused her own face, pale, dark washed-out grey eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep, with her mess of unclean hair, stare back at her. She cussed softly, and walked out of the mirror's unfriendly view. Dressing tables were lined in black velvet, and the large bed decorated with satin.

                Dante, too, walked in, also examining the room, although is eyes caught what Mackenzie's did not. Dark splotches of blood decorated the floor. The brown-red of old, dried blood cake the floor boards like a carpet, and fresher spilt blood lay, still wet above that in the farther corner, near the bed. Carefully he walked closer to the area, looking down at the corpse of a man who lay rumbled. He seemed homeless; certainly not the person Mackenzie searched for, since what was left of his face suggested he was much older than someone who would be a friend of the girl.

                A deep voice, inhuman in many ways, echoed through the room, interrupting Dante's examination of the body.

                "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"