Author's Note: Here's chapter 3 for you all Thank you so much for the reviews and follows! This chapter feels a bit slow-paced, but I'll do my best to pick up the pace in the forthcoming chapters. Hope you're enjoying the story so far!
Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership over DMC, or anything Capcom-related.
His face is fair as heav'n
When springing buds unfold;
O why to him was't giv'n
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love's all-worshipp'd tomb,
Where all love's pilgrims come.
'My silks and fine array'
William Blake
Air. She needs air. But there is none as she kept gasping, attempting to produce a sound that did not travel through the space. The stench of only what she could describe as blood, soil and smoke filled her nose as she lay face down, her arms being held stretched out behind her back with one foot pressing down onto her back, increasing pressure. Voices turned into snarls and growls, metal clanging and the last remaining screams fall into more silence – the final mark of absolute defeat. Then, she felt excruciating pain that not even the demons have nightmares of. She let out a piercing scream that was deafening to all ears across the battlefield, now filled with an atmosphere of pure hopelessness and sin. Her trusted weapon lay just next to her left cheek as she stared at it whilst still screaming, as if being looked at in shame and disappointment. The thunder clapped and the raindrops cold on her face and neck as with one final pull of her arms and a press from the foot…
Francesca jolted straight up from her bath, now more wet from her sweat than the long-ago evaporated and now cold water from her bath. Her heart has never been beating faster than when she was a child.
"The hell…?"She managed to whisper with a whimper, as inexplicable tears began to build behind her eyes and a lump forming in her throat. She put her head in her hands as she tried to make sense of her surroundings and get back to reality.
"Just a dream, Fran..a very vivid dream. You're fine, you're safe, you're still here…"she comforted herself. Sabina would often say this to her when she was little. She hasn't had these dreams for nearly twenty years. Why now do they have to come back? Recurring dreams are commonplace amongst people, but these can't be normal. They're too bright, too real. Slowly, she lifted herself up by grabbing onto the edges of her bath and pushing off from it. Wrapping a towel around herself, she stood in front of the steamed mirror and ran her palm across it, cleaning it to check on herself. Splashing fresh cool water on her face, she stared at her reflection to assess any damage. Her eyes are blood-shot and tired, and her skin red from the tense nightmare. She looked like she needed a week's worth of more sleep. But strangely, at the same time, she felt a burst of energy she hasn't felt in years. She can feel her heart rate increase at the rate of every second, her muscles in her body burning. The pain she felt in her nightmare felt so real, she swears she can feel something on her shoulder blades and mid-spine.
Blinking a few times, she exited her bathroom to put on an oversized white shirt and wool tracksuits. Francesca proceeded to turn off the record player, its needle silently scraping the central point of the vinyl. All she needed now was to just lie down and rest. Not necessarily sleep, but rest. The image of that man just could not escape her mind. No one else seemed to notice or indeed care for him, but something in her just drew her in.
"Oh, come on girl, he's just a guy. Who wore a cloak…who walked opposite literally everyone else…and I'm now talking to myself" the archivist muttered as she lay on her bed with hands on her stomach. She must know more. There must be some correlation between all this. As soon as she is exposed to a demonic presence, the nightmares start again. What if that 'guy' was a demon? What is he looking for? He didn't show any intention of harming Fortuna's citizens – but what if that's only for now? She must investigate this. She had no idea how or even why, but she felt an urge. Something just didn't feel quite right.
Feeling energised once again, she made the decision of taking a walk at Fortuna's market. Her excuse was the need to stock up her fridge anyway. Putting on some last minute Fortuna dress and hooded trench coat, she parted with her apartment once more. Fortuna's streets and marketplace was in its usual late evening buzz post-mass. The people like to let out their reserved energy on negotiating fruit prices and give the kids a good opportunity to tire themselves out before bedtime. Francesca loved it. She felt safe, her spirits lifted from the vivacity.
Meanwhile, Megaera, or to be precise, Commander Megaera (although almost everyone called her Meg), was swirling her whisky glass whilst sat behind one of the few Fortuna bars, listening to the musical hum and late night buzz of her fellow soldiers, their banter almost deafening as the alcohol hit their bloodstream. She sat quietly, with a glare on her face, repetitively looking around for her younger brother. Everyone was celebrating whatever ranks they were now, whether they were promoted or not. It's been a pretty good year for Fortuna's military. Whilst the demons keep coming, there were minimal casualties, and Sanctus was evidently pleased with the progress and continuous faith in Sparda.
"Faithful soldier, why do you frown?" asked the bartender, polishing a glass and cocking his head at her. Meg admired him as a friend and almost as a moral mentor. His name was Elias. A medium build man in his mid-40s. He was a simple man, with a wife and two children. His voice was soft spoken but carried an authority – a necessary trait if you want to run a bar. He was of medium height and had a warm glow in his eyes, showing kindness to those he cares about. A good man who had earned his respect throughout the years from his colleagues and customers.
"Waiting for my long lost brother, you seen him? Probably found himself another date, no doubt." Meg responded with a sarcastic undertone, rolling her eyes whilst taking her last full drink of her whisky before thumping the glass on the bar top. She always had trouble controlling her strength and temper at the best of times.
"Jeez, Meg. What's wrong with that? He's young and free, you should be too. This is unlike you, sweetie." Elias pushed Meg's head back up with is finger to the top of her head. "Go on, head to the market - I'll keep a lookout for him."
As Meg proceeded to head out, she was immediately stopped by Elijah, another soldier promoted just a bit later after her own. He was intoxicated, but not completely out of it. He wrapped one of his arms around her as a friendly gesture – they were close; thus no self-defence manoeuvres were required.
"Where do you think you're going? You're missing the fun!" He spoke loudly over the music into her ear.
"Looks like you ain't missing a beat! You seen my douchy brother? Shoulda been here thirty minutes ago!" She loudly replied back, leaning back into his arm.
"I think I saw him, but maybe not. Actually, I wanted to ask you something. What're you doing tomorrow after?"
"Elijah, I can't. Familial and new job role commitments, you know. Sorry pal, another time. Keep your drinking levels to a minimum, you hear me? I don't want no pukes tomorrow!" Meg interrupted him to keep him in check. He was a good-looking guy, no doubt, but was just not her type. He always tried too hard to please her. She showed him a peace out sign as she opened the door, leaving him standing alone again, with a beer bottle in one hand, sighing before turning around and heading back to the group.
The whisky certainly took a slight toll on her vision – she felt unusually light-headed. 'Definitely stay away from the drinks, commander', the young soldier reminded herself, before taking a deep breath of the winter air and buttoning up her long white new Order of the Sword trench coat.
The sun began to settle and Francesca finally had the chance to stop shielding her eyes from it, eyeing now the groceries better. The buzz began to settle down as people began heading home to shield themselves from the cold. The market was still busy, but the atmosphere slowly began to shift. Francesca smirked to herself in relief – such an exposure to people was not her daily preference. Which is why she is so grateful to Sabina and her husband Josh's patience with her working at the library and its archives after many years of turmoil. Indeed, Sabina, Josh and Antonia were the only people she really knows and considers family.
Then, amidst the noise, Francesca's heart abruptly changed pace. Her breaths became hasty as the air around her began to feel hot, engulfing her body. There was a lump in her throat and a knot in her stomach as a strange noise can be heard from the other end of the marketplace. Everything began to move in slow motion as a large deformed figure came charging at the people of Fortuna. A repulsive snicker came from the figure as screams of the inhabitants began to deafen Francesca. She could not move. Her muscles were all locked in place as her eyes widened in horror. 'No, not this again. Not now.', she could only think. She repeated this over and over in her head. Then the blood came. Splashing across the ancient walls as the figure slashed with vast force. The metallic smell can be sensed from here. As she snapped back into reality, she instinctively felt the urge to help the others escape while they can. Seeing the first family of three she briefly knows from previous mass interactions, and grabbed the father's and child's arms pulling them to a small antiques store before running for the mother and tagging her to follow suit.
"Stay here, don't move! I'll get the others!" Francesca spoke, already breathless.
The father responded, standing in front of the woman. "No, you'll get killed out there…"
"I can't let this happen again, so stay here, sir!" she interrupted before opening the store's door again and running back out.
More people desperately pushed themselves out and in each other's way into any building with a door, whether it was locked or not. The snarl from the figure grew louder as it was quickly beginning to reduce the distance between it and Francesca. It resembled a heavily deformed clown, with enormous rusty blades attached to its 'arms'. Its 'legs' both had begs, and whilst walking it was heavily unbalanced, its leaps and jumps made it as deadly as it was, using its momentum to slash the humans to pieces. It glanced at the young woman and she realised just the immense danger she found herself in. Unable to do anything but to accept her fate, she could only shield her face with her arms and shut her eyes.
But before the revolting demonic entity could finish her off with a single swipe of its blades, came a thump, followed by silence. Opening her eyes in confusion, a feeling of disbelief followed as a long, luminous blade was inches away from her neck. The blade was piercing through the demon's centre and a female voice with a heavy Australian accent followed:
"You better run before the next stab will reach yo face, dear". Francesca's mouth fell open, her body still paralysed from shock and confusion. The female was directly behind the demon, as she twisted the blade further through the demon, as it shrieked in pain. As she took the blade out, the demon took the opportunity to attempt at slicing the fighter. But the soldier simply arched herself backwards, whilst still standing on the same spot. Francesca was able to see her face, illuminated by the last remaining rays of the evening sun. Her skin was of an olive shade, with freckles covering all of it. Her hair was extremely curly, tied into a loose ponytail (doubt she can do more than that with that type of hair). Her eyes were large on her round face, brown and expressive, accompanied by a smaller than average nose and full rounded lips. Her body build was rather petite, but athletic regardless. She was still wearing her ceremonial Order of the Sword uniform, which consisted of a long white trench coat, black leather leggings and black low-heeled boots. Practical but stylish. It then dawned on her that it was the same woman she spotted at the earlier mass. What a strange coincidence. And not one she was going to complain about.
"Hey, you hear me? Move yo ass outta here!". Francesca blinked twice and before she could finally run for it, a hand grabbed her by her forearm and quickly dragged her behind one of the market stalls.
"Do as the lady says, lass" A male voice commanded her. Francesca built up enough courage to speak.
"What's happening soldier? This demon is different." She asked the man, who somehow resembled the female soldier, with similar olive skin and large brown eyes. A handsome young man with neatly combed black hair that was wavy, but not as curly as hers.
"Don't worry about those, we got it" His accent was also what sounded like Australian. Are they siblings? He winked at her, before heading out. Before he could let go of her arm, she grasped him again, explaining to him that simply because she is a mere weak civilian, doesn't mean she doesn't have the right to know what's going on, especially as a Fortuna archivist.
"Proves my point further, so stay here! Trust me, this is out of everyone's hands." His voice was more authoritative now, his brow furrowed as he ran back out as he unsheathed his motor-powered blade to assist his colleague and (presumably) kin.
"You're late, Bastian! Better make this one quick, or you owe me a whisky glass!" Meg yelled at her brother, as the harmoniously slashed and dashed around the lone demon, gracefully using all of the environment to their advantage, surrounding the demon, before finishing it with the final blows of amputating it limb by limb, before Meg finally decapitated it with a roar of satisfaction as hay, black slime and smoke came oozing from the demon, deflating it before it evaporated into the cool air. They both simultaneously sheathed their swords, surrounded by silence once more.
"I don't owe you shit this time, sis" The brother playfully replied, walking off into the distance, with his hands behind his head as he stretched. He was used to such demons, so to him, this was not a big deal. Meg glanced back at the shocked citizens, looking for the strange woman who was staring at her so deeply just mere seconds ago. She was strangely intrigued by her; something about her that just seemed out of place. But not in a bad way – she found comfort in her eyes, somehow. Inner wisdom that she hasn't seen ever since all of her and Bastian's folks died back in Adelaide. It would be nice to meet her (away from demons, of course).
Francesca began to finalise processing what happened about five minutes ago as she paced quickly back to her apartment, hands still trembling. She hadn't managed to thank the two soldiers who saved not only her, but the other civilians. The market was all drenched in blood – a mess not to be beckoned with. The sigh of so much of it made her sick – god, all of those people! Such monsters must be eradicated. And that means more research, more data, more reading. 'Good', she thought. An excuse for her to work overtime, at last.
Meanwhile, the cloaked figure stood on top of the rooftops of Fortuna, watching the sun finally set behind the horizon, whilst eyeing the two soldiers make their way back to Fortuna castle, chatting away. He takes his hood off, as there are no spectators here. His stoic expression remained stoic, as he narrowed his steel-grey eyes. He recalled the earlier brief mid-battle moment between the two women earlier – something was indeed odd about that human. Perhaps he should stay here a bit longer than initially planned. Perhaps she could be a chance for the power he so craves.