Author's Note:

Apologies for such a delay! It's been a crazy few weeks, and I wasn't sure how to pace this chapter and how to develop its characters further, so had to go back and forth multiple times. Hope it works out for you all! I apologise in advance for any errors – some if it I had to rush a little.

Disclaimer:

As usual, I do not claim any ownership over DMC, or anything Capcom-related. All belongs to Capcom.

Chapter 4

July 18th 2019, 9:35am

Nico speedily burrowed through all of the documents she managed to find after the first search organised by her and Nero. Weapon records, monument building archives, and anything on residents of Fortuna.

Nope, nothing.

"Shit…" Nico muttered as she lit another cigarette, making sure none of its ash has any contact with the paper. She wasn't really surprised – Fortuna is a very closed-off city, and its authorities keep such documents close to their chest.

"Ugh, perhaps might just as well. Gotta do my puppy eyes it is!" Nico stood up, pushing all of the papers to one side of her work desk.

Nero was on another demon-hunting assignment, this time without her. 'I need some air without your ciggies', he said. Rolling her eyes at the recollection, she takes out her phone from her pocket and dials. No answer, thus leaves a quick and sassy voicemail instead for him to discover after the usual demon ass-kicking.

'This persuasion thing will be a tricky one', Nico smirked.

January 18th, 1993, 8:30am

The clad man was once again walking along another narrow alleyway, relishing the tranquillity of Fortuna. After that interesting demon encounter, he knew that more were to come in the following days. That did not concern him, however. He was here to investigate the people's unique interest and apparent infatuation with Sparda. Indeed, their beliefs were, in a way, justified. Long ago, Sparda resided in this town and saved its inhabitants from a massive demonic attack. But he was sure that there was more to this story. That woman, he has seen her walk to the archive building every day – either a keen reader or a worker.

"She may be very useful to me, if I am correct", he breathed as he lifted his head up, feeling a sudden gush of wind, as black dust congregated and rapidly formed a ghost-like demonic presence.

"Don't you pathetic creatures know that you are meeting death before you? You shall regret ever being born…" He hissed as he narrowed his eyes whilst the demon approached him, hovering slowly, its gaze fixated on him. Suddenly, it darted towards him in a blink of an eye, revealing its bladed tail as it aimed at the man in blue. But before the bladed could come into contact with mortal flesh, the man in blue was gone before the demon's red eyes as it paused for a moment as it slowly began to turn around. The man was now directly behind it, sighing with a disappointed 'hmph' before the revolting ghost-like demon dispersed into a dozen pieces before realising it was dissolving into nothing as the man sheathed his sword in synchronisation.

He stood up straight again and turned, eyeing the archive building standing tall amongst the other residencies on the other side of the narrow and dark alleyway. Whilst everyone was at mass, this was the perfect opportunity for him to have the place to himself without anyone bothering him.

He paced non-hurriedly to the location, opening the large wooden door at the back of the building to avoid any unwanted attention, his brown cloak aiding him. Once inside, he found himself in a large round room with several globes, rolled up papers and endless piles of books. The walls were all intricately decorated with Fortuna's designs, paved with gold and marble. Against one of the walls near a window, there was a large desk made of a dark oak that was barely visible under the masses of paperwork, pens, fabric gloves and magnifying lenses. There were large round lamps for closer examinations on it; perfect for investigating the clearly treasured papers. He approached the desk closer and picked up one of the papers, outlining the brief history of a particular neighbourhood within Fortuna. He peered closer: '1345 AD' was written in very faint ink on the stained brown piece of paper. Other papers included old newspaper clippings, dating back to the early 20th century, photographs of citizens and diary accounts of 'the outside world', as the locals like to call land outside of Fortuna.

Deciding not to waste any more time, he stepped towards the door leading to the library, opening it slowly as it creaked. But no response. The building was completely empty. Smirking, the man clad in blue walked along the endless rows of bookshelves, eyeing their titles and ages whilst running his long, elegant fingers along their spines. After several minutes of pondering over the shelves and taking in the scent of old books, he noticed an ajar door to another small office, complete with a desk, the usual piles of papers, but accompanied by one unusual feature; photographs of a human who seemed familiar. He walked calmly to the desk, picking up the picture to have a closer inspection. It was a portrait of three individuals; a petite, brown haired woman with large framed glasses, a taller man with a stubble and an expression of delight. But the woman stood in the centre, accompanied with both of their arms on her shoulders, caught his attention. She had a heart-shaped face, platinum blonde hair and a delicate smile imprinted on her face. She looked young, around his age. She must be one of the workers here currently at mass.

"How convenient…" Smirking, he held the picture for a few seconds before placing it back. Before he could turn back and head back to the city, he noticed a peculiar dark leather covered book, titled 'Fall of the ancient ones' in embossed and faded smudged ink. Mass typically lasted for about two hours, giving him time to read the first few pages at least. Upon opening it up, there were boundless post-it notes, clipped pieces of paper, diagrams, scribbles and sketches. Everything was stuck in various angles, desperately clinging to the worn pages. No page was left bare. Some notes towards the last few pages look rather recent. This was not a book, nor a diary, he concluded. It was an obsessive project.

Francesca made a solemn promise to disclose any issues and nightmares she encounters during her sleep to Sabina. But nowadays, she has begun to break that promise more and more. She can't seem to shake the feeling that everything that's been happening to her recently is somehow connected. The demons, the library, the encounter with the two soldiers, and the same nightmare, over and over. She struggled to sleep the following night. She snacked, watched the televised broadcast of the immediate aftermath, then read some more before tiring herself out and squeezing in three hours of tossing and turning in her bedsheets. No record players were turned on that evening – she needs the silence; a time to think and recollect her thoughts before another mass and then the usual work.

After getting herself ready same as always and putting on her brown pleated skirt and oversized jumper, her usual dull hood that was compulsory for all non-military personnel, Francesca made it out in the early hours of the morning. She already noticed the difference in atmosphere – everyone was on edge, walking quickly, the windows are shut, shops closed, accompanied only by the distant coo from a coocoo bird, probably from Fortuna's nearby Mitis Forest. Francesca however, didn't feel in danger. On the contrary, the closer to the cathedral she walked, the safer and more energised she began to feel. 'Maybe it's just the shock still', a thought lingered in her head as she approached the large building, entering through the back door to avoid any attention she may have received already. A wide array of thoughts were scattering through her mind.

Ever since she saw those new faces, she felt an unusual jolt of excitement. Before this, ever since she can remember, she never saw any new faces outside Fortuna, due to its strict tourism laws. For the first time, she realised that she was bored. Bored of the same people, the same prayers and deity everyone worshipped, the same daily routine, the clothes, all of it. She wanted to know more of the outside. That female soldier she saw – despite being mostly hidden by her own hood, seemed extremely familiar to her, however.

Staring down at the floor as she walked alongside the rest of the crowd towards the cathedral, a familiar voice called her name. Turning her head, she felt a smile come back to her as Sabina and her husband Chester caught up with her, with Sabina clutching at her chest as usual. Those cigarettes sure took a toll on her, despite quitting four years ago.

"You're definitely gonna give me a hard time sooner or later, Fran" she touched Francesca's shoulder in admiration. Chester was his usual neatly-presented self, a warm smile on his face, barely hidden under his white hood.

"Well, that's in retaliation of you giving me a hard time at work" the young woman smirked, putting her hand on top of Sabina's.

"Am I the only one who has a bad feeling about the next few days…? You've been acting a little weird, daughter. And when that happens, it usually means bad news on the way" Chester sighed as he lovingly lifted her chin to look at him before he took hold of both of Fran's hands.

"Guys, don't. A lot has happened, okay?" Fran responded with irritation. Her parents have grown used to this type of response. "The nightmares got worse in the past few days. And those two soldiers, they remind me of…never mind" She tried to shake it off, praying that the two will dismiss it, or at least 'leave it to later'. She felt it was too soon for her to speak of what happened.

"Well, perhaps you should miss this one mass for once? We'll cover for you." The older woman whispered. "Cut yourself some slack and maybe do something…productive…" Lowering her head down in doubt, before being able to protest, Sabina pushed her the opposite way, urging her to go back to work at least and perhaps recover by distracting herself. Ever since she was little, Sabina and Chester were both familiar with her post-trauma habits and memory complications. All those sleepless nights, the Order's pleas of her 'dangerous nature' and their resistance to them were worth it. They proved them all wrong by raising a daughter whilst not known by many, is now loved by the few who do.

She had no choice but to obey; she owes them that. Taking one final glance as they took each other's hands like a scene from one of the few romance films she had the unique opportunity to see, Francesca smiled at the pleasant sight of this subtle public display of affection. Significant others have never been a priority of hers. She has had the few occasional admirers now and then, but to lay in someone's arms has been nothing but a dream to her - an image she can't even reconstruct due to her total lack of any physical experience of such a notion. Her priority was her work, and her recent research into those 'Fallen ones'.

To avoid attention and suspicion, she decides to take the alleyway she used when she was little, walking through her childhood memories as her heels clacked, her fingers brushing along the antique walls. The streets soon fell silent as she took a deep breath, enjoying the rebellious act she is committing. Whilst an arrest will not be made for her desertion of mass, she nevertheless felt an abrupt impulse of guilt building in her stomach. This was by far the most adventure she has had in a very long time. She smiled to herself, taking off her hood as she steadily approached her work's gates.

Meg and Bastian walked side by side along the empty high street, keeping an eye out for any 'funny demon business'. It was their day shift; thus, mass was out of the question.

"So, come on, tell me. How do you know this girl?" The brother asked, jumping up and down to warm himself up in the January air.

"What are you talking about?" his fiery sister asked casually, avoiding eye contact. But he can read her like a book. He gave her a glance that she can feel without even looking. He was always known for his not-so-subtle body language.

"We were childhood friends, before you and I were sent out to Australia" Meg responded, giving him a strange look in response to his jumping. Indicating him to stop. "We were in the same class, and our friendship was closely guarded. It's been nearly ten years now." She sighed, almost contemplating the choice she and her brother made. Not as if they had much choice, anyway. The Order back in those days encouraged some of its young apprentices to 'train outside the usual scope in order to adapt to various dire situations'. But after a few years, the project was scrapped, and the soldiers were recently sent back to Fortuna. The threat of the spread of secrets overweighed the advantages. Meg was disappointed, but at the same time, relieved. She has grown accustomed to Fortuna in the first eleven years of her life, despite developing a subtle yet distinctive Australian accent that is now imprinted. Her brother, meanwhile, has not.

"Soooo I have a sister who have kept a possibly significant friendship concealed from me for how long, ten years?" Bastian raised an eyebrow, his pitch raised in suspicion.

"Look, it was a long time ago, brother. She's doing well on her own now. Hell, it's for the best anyway. I nearly screwed her life up. She deserves better." She paused for thought.

"What do you mean 'screwed her up'…? Meg, what happened that night? I remember your black eye, but no-one ever told me what happened, not even you. That chick had something to do with it, didn't she?" A pause. "Did she beat you up or something?"

"Jeez, Bastian, no! We were young and stupid. We wanted to see the archives, and we got busted. That's all." Meg looked down in shame, like a little child after admitting mischief. With a sigh, the brother took Megaera's hands in his.

"Sis, we all do stupid shit. I mean, you are a stupid shit, but that's not the point." The chuckled in unison. "By what I saw her doing that evening, she doesn't seem to be the type to hold grudges. Now c'mon, let's blow up this joint." Letting go of her hands, the again continued their patrol, hands now clasping at their sword handles; the pair have always been ready for a fight.

Francesca made it to her workplace building, dangling her keys before entering. Her face was caressed by a pleasant and familiar warmth still present from the fireplace on the other side of the entrance hall. Sabina must've forgot to put it out. Despite the woman's talents in writing and investigative work, her memory in terms of everyday chores 'needed work'. They were lucky a fire hasn't broken out after all these years.

Taking off her hood, she made her climb up on the spiral staircase leading up to the office and lab corridor. She walked along the long and narrow corridor, feet muffled by the crimson carpet. She was silent, which she used as an advantage to scare Sabina when she was a child. Her office was on the other side of the hallway, opening it and stepping inside. Picking the old, tattered book from her desk covered inside with endless notes and scribbles, she smiled to herself.

"Right where I left you" Francesca quietly muttered as she put it back down, before noticing something different on the corner of her eye. Her family photograph had less dust on it than usual.

"Not where I left you, however" she frowned.

No-one cleans her own desk but her, and she remembers it having more dust around the edges. Her body froze as she realised that she was not alone. Someone has been here recently. Setting the photo back down, slowly turning and quickly running towards her door, locking it. As soon as she was confident with that, she sprinted to the other side of her office and shut her window. No-one goes in or out. Staring at the street outside the building, she closed her curtains, darkening the room that is now only lit by the small desk lamp which is constantly on. She slowly began to step backwards before her back was met with a something warm and solid, causing her to turn around in fright, knocking the books piled on the window sill. Her hands trembled, her eyes widened in terror and her mouth agape. It was the man in blue. The one the Order was after. And he was staring directly at her, his face inches from her own.

Meanwhile….

Somewhere, in a large, dark room deep in Fortuna's catacombs, two voices echo down the cold brick walls.

"Her nightmares are getting more vivid, your grace. We must act now"

"No, it is still too early. We must be sure that she is the one. Besides, we have bigger priorities. That man we saw earlier is no human…we shall investigate him first before handling her. She is no threat yet."

"But sir, if she discovers the truth, she will awaken pre-emptively. Perhaps we should isolate her from her work…"

"No, let her ponder. She will not find much, for much has been lost over the ages. Fortuna is not a place to hold such secrets. You will carry on as usual, and prioritise the man in blue. Perhaps he will help us uncover what we have been seeking all these years. Now go!"

"Right away, your grace"