Author's Note:

Hello again, dear readers!

Work is slow, so decided to write up the next chapter whilst pretending to look busy. I will try and not go crazy with the time jumps – don't want any confusion! I'm not sure if this chapter seems to drag a bit too much or not, but I guess it's better than no chapters at all. Again, I do apologise if there happen to be typos and whatnot.

Disclaimer: I do not anything other than my OCs. Everything else rightfully belongs to Capcom.

Chapter 2

July 17th 2019, 19:00pm

Nico leaned far back in her chair with her feet resting on top of the garden table, crunching on a cracker in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She was reading a weekly magazine whilst listening to the stereo she dug out of a market sale a few weeks back. 'This place needs more mood tunes', she would say to Nero and Kyrie. Such tunes consisting of a mixture of jazz and heavy rock. Quite the contrast.

Nero was lying on the cool grass, enjoying the gentle evening sun heat, his arms cushioning his head and his eyes closed. After a long day of minion demon slaying, he felt like this is a perfect moment he deserved. Kyrie meanwhile, had just finished her newly-found full-time job at the orphanage, now preparing a cool beverage for herself and 'the kids in the garden'.

With her mouth dry and full of cracker crumbs, Nico mumbled to Nero "I wunfur, hoo if yoor moffur?"

"What…?" Nero responded, giving Nero a dirty and confused expression.

After about a minute of pretentious chewing from Nico in response, she repeated: "I wonder who yo' mama is. Never given it a proper thought, dude. Seriously though. Who would your dad even do? I mean come on – the man tore off yo' arm, nearly damn killed yo' uncle and you, and can apparently dance Singing in the Rain whilst kicking demon ass!"

"You know, Nico, sometimes you just say the most weird shit…"Nero replied, sighing.

"Whaaaat? C'mon, don't tell me you at least didn't give it a thought!" Nico sat up in surprise to Nero's apparently careless attitude.

"I don't know. The other kids at the orphanage told me my mom was...well…you know" followed a melancholier reply from the young devil hunter.

"Huh...doubt that's true, tough guy" Nico winked at Nero, standing up and walking off to the garage again.

'This is gonna be an interesting piece of homework', Nico smiled to herself.

January 16th 1993, 3:16pm

Francesca was cautiously flicking through yet another rather unexciting document. Architecture of Fortuna – whilst a hobby worth taking for most, sadly never piqued her interest. The large window she leaned against shielded her from the cold January air. Caught in a moment of daydreaming, her New Year's was a quiet one, like every other year. She didn't have many friends or any familial folks – the only friends she considered close was Sabina and the orphanage children. There seemed to be a peculiar aura of sagacity seeping from those kids that kept Francesca drawn and close to them. She was their light of hope, although they all were well-looked after.

After dismissing her brief moment of melancholy, she adjusted her round glasses perked delicately on her nose once more and putting the leather-clad file on top of the other 287 files ready to be archived in Fortuna's undisclosed underground vault. Francesca's love for prose and poetry was unquestioned, however. She does not have often a moment at work to read through such works, because her role was more elaborate – to examine through individual archive materials and produce Fortuna reports which are then to be sent to Agnus. Ever since she was a child, she would sneak into the library and take out whatever book she ceased at the night before, afore putting it back as if no-one has physically contacted it. One night, however, fortune was not on her side, and she was caught, thanks to a vase stood on the edge that she knocked over and alerted Sabina, the keyholder and guardian of the archive complex. Rather than reporting her, Sabina offered her the chance to learn to work and live with her, in exchange of Francesca being given access to proximately all the books.

Rapid hops approached Francesca as one of the Fortuna orphanage children, Antonia, came bouncing towards the adolescent woman.

"Miss, miss! I found the last volume all by myself! Are you pleased, miss? Please be proud! I've been good this week, haven't I?" The petite girl softly whispered, as she held the Little Mermaid proudly above her head, as if holding a trophy.

"Oh my, look at you! All by yourself? What a treasure hunter you will one day become!" Francesca let out a sizably voluminous smile and cupped the girl's cheeks and stroked a minute part of her long, curly hair.

"Like in Treasure Island?" She asked, her big brown eyes glistening with innocent excitement.

"Exactly like Treasure Island. Maybe one day you will find authentic treasure, you never know. We are also an island, after all." Francesca answered, kneeling to match the girl's height.

She was never one of dominance, which is why she was so good with children - they found her relatable with her 'questionable' efforts at being goofy whilst utilizing her warm voice to comfort their solitude and need to be loved. Every weekend, she would come to the orphanage and conduct literature and English language edifications with the orphans, availing them in any way she could. She was there once. She kens what it's relish to feel alone, unwanted and lost. And she does not want any of them to feel the same way she did. Many even asked her to adopt them. Once, she even nearly did. But for one, she was too young. Only 20 years old, she was only beginning to establish herself within Fortuna – she attended mass very week, and embraces her faith in Sparda. Albeit he is long gone, Sanctus regularly reminds Fortuna's citizens of the deity saving humanity before falling in love with a beautiful adolescent mortal priestess. But the demons just keep coming regardless, and as of lately, they have been increasing in numbers. Consequently, Francesca must protect everyone as best as she could, even if it'd mean giving up her own life. After all, there is nothing else worth living for to her anyway.

After quickly making some braids on Antonia's hair, which Francesca calls 'their weekly ritual', stood back up and asked her "Hey, why don't you give this to Sabina for approval? I'll give you extra time to read it. And then maybe, I will tell you more stories about Sparda, whaddaya say?"

"Really?"

"Of course! As long as you deport yourself like always, deal?", Francesca winks, holding out her pinkie.

"I promise, miss" Antonia replied, pinkie swearing and hopping off again to Sabina's office and skipping back out, clutching the book close to her chest, giving Francesca a swift final wave before the cumbersomely hefty door closed abaft her. Whilst a mischievous girl, Antonia never intends to cause anyone any harm, other than the pain of the remote inconvenience of washing off some paint from their attire or drying up after being shot at with a water gun.

"Never ceases to cheer me right up, that little rascal" spoke a high-pitched and raspy voice, as Sabina walked out of her office, folding her arms and leaning against the door frame. The middle-aged woman was of a miniature stature, with short limbs and skinny frame and dark brown hair with deep-set green eyes. Her glasses would more often be perched on her head than her nose – Francesca would remind her often to put them back down when examining documents. Whilst her glasses habit was dubious at best, her mother-like demeanour is unsurpassed, coupled with her unending generosity and patience, whilst at the same time being of a character not to be meddled with, should one be unmindful enough to do so. Francesca imagined her to have been profoundly comely when she was adolescent – her husband is a lucky man anyhow. She still is beautiful, with always well-kept hair and a verbally competent manner. Her femininity shone through ever since Francesca came crashing into her life.

"Can't believe she's back at the orphanage…she'd be mine if I had the nerve." Francesca sighed, hanging her head low in shame and folding her arms in a virtually defensive stance. "She deserves the best of what humanity has, not douche parents or demonic attacks on the streets…".

"Oh, don't be so melancholy, Fran." Sabina tutted in irritation. "Her time will come, like yours did with me. Good things will come to the likes of her – she deserves it. So, don't go hanging your head like that and don't forget about the mass tonight. We'll have a glass of wine after, alright?" She spoke with a more rigorous undertone, hoisting Francesca's chin with her minute fingers.

"I raised you to be better than that, and you know it. Now, let's finish the remaining docs, shall we?" Sabina added.

"You're right. Work is a good distraction, I guess. I just wish I could be more, Sabina. Those demons. They're invading Fortuna in increasingly unsustainable numbers. I wish I had more power…"Francesca tentatively replied, knowing already the response awaiting her from Sabina.

"You are doing more than necessary already! Giving hope to the hopeless is a hell of a good deed, Fran. Sparda did the same." The minute woman placed her hand on Fran's shoulder for comfort and began to walk back into her large office. Francesca proceeded to do the same.

For two final hours in the tranquil silence, the blonde finished the last few documents before placing the pile carefully into a special preservation box, ready for their final delivery to the underground archive within Fortuna Castle's walls. Giving a final glance at the mantle clock placed on her personal work desk, Francesca decides to get ready for the weekly mass. Before the event, she put on her mass 'uniform' which included a white hood – a requirement to wear when inside the holy cathedral. Today, she was wearing a crimson wool fleece and a long pleated silk skirt of the same colour. Underneath, she wore brown knee-length heeled boots. Modest and conservative – Francesca's usual style.

She felt like she needed some fresh air anyway, as she checked herself in the mirror one final time before heading out to mass. The air was cool, but pleasant, stroking her cheeks as everyone else was walking towards the main cathedral. Suddenly, Francesca felt a shiver run down her spine and the hairs on her body stand up. An almost static feeling of energy seeped through as she stopped for a moment. Probably pre-mass nerves as usual, she though to herself. Clutching her left hand in her right to contain herself, she marched on in determination. Nothing will ruin the rest of her day.

The mass itself was an event Francesca looked forward to. Sanctus told them the inspirational stories of other legendary demons who fought alongside Sparda, as well as announcing the new Order of the Sword commanders and officers, honouring their new duties and congratulating them on their bravery and promotions. Standing among them, was a young female. She was of medium but evidently athletic build, with her hair cascading down her face under her Order hood. She was rather fidgety, evident by her subtle but noticeable to Francesca's eyes eye movements. Then, as everyone gave them a standing ovation, the two women's' eyes suddenly meet for what seemed like an hour. Perhaps of admiration, a coincidental accident, or just a distraction. The olive-skinned woman's face tensed up as she turned her head forward again, staring at the back doors to regain focus.

My bro would ask you out, for sure, the commander joked to herself.

After a ten-minute operatic performance by the lead choir singer, the mass was over. By then, Francesca realised that she was more exhausted than initially thought, and thus was now eager to just go home and sleep. After a brief departure moment with Sabina as she headed home as well to her loving husband, Francesca followed the crowd down the main street. Remembering the soldier's face again as she slowly strolled, she noticed a figure walking the opposite direction not far from her. The presumably tall male figure was different to everyone else. He wore a long, brown cloak, covering every inch of him except the bottom half of his pale face. His head was tilted low, evidently avoiding unwanted attention. His pace was slow, but with purpose. Like a man walking through a pristine garden. Her eyes were locked on as she slowed down to a halt, continuing eyeing him as he continued to walk on, not noticing her rude behaviour.

Francesca snapped back into reality as the man disappeared amongst the crowds. She was tempted to follow – but that may well be the worst decision of her life. The man may be dangerous – a warning she was too familiar with as Sanctus would remind his people at every mass. He has every intention of keeping Fortuna isolated for the safety of its inhabitants. Although she did not see any weapon on him, the cloak may well be the reason behind that. Or maybe he's just a visitor.

Shutting the door to her apartment, Francesca let out a sigh of relief as she threw her keys onto the shelf and dropped onto her bed face first. Yep, she was exhausted. A long hot shower was in order, and a glass of wine Sabina forgot to arrange. She was always forgetful with things like this. Smirking, she poured herself a small glass and took a sip as she prepared a bath instead.

The hot water comforted her as she lay, with soft music played by her faithful vinyl player in the living room. She liked to keep the bathroom door slightly ajar as she tapped her fingers to the music beat and softly singing to the familiar melody, closing her heavy eyelids as she fell into deep relaxation. Her transition to sleep was slow as she drifted off deeper, not minding doing so. She felt her head tilt more downward as the music began to fade and the man's face forming in her imagination.

"Welcome stranger to this place, where joy doth sit on every bough…" Francesca quietly mouthed, falling into a slumber.

Meanwhile…

The clad young man paced slowly towards the large monument towering over him, with his treasured father's keepsake in a tight grip of his left hand. Looking up, the figure took in the cool night air as the moon's reflection on the pavement's wet surface lit up his face.

'Strange, no guards in this area, despite this being an enormous coffer of valuable archives and documents', the man thought to himself. Perhaps even a source of power. Maybe finally he will have the chance to avenge his mother's brutal murder all those years ago and end his rivalry with his younger brother. 'And that girl', he remembered. How dare she stare at the Son of Sparda with such undignified eyes? She will regret doing that if he sees her again.

A right cold hand took hold of the door's handle and turned. Perhaps his venture to this isolated city will be worth it.