WEEEELLLLCOMMEEE! To the newest chapter of WTHIMF! Took long enough, huh? But hey, life's been...well, life. Trying to get into Resident Evil, Bayonetta caught my attention, became a Beta Reader, stuff like that. (And no thanks to Bayonetta, I've revived my fondness for Dum-Dum pops. If you know what they are, kudos! If you don't, all you need to know is that they are small lollipops that come in a variety of flavors and they are this author's childhood.
Though I've come across a very interesting story recently; Musings. By a man known as RedDevilHunter. Check it out, if you've the time. It's quite...something. I honestly don't know how else to put it. You'll see when you read it. I guess quoting Flemeth from Dragon Age: Origins would work here. "You're required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight, or open one's arms wide; either way, one's a fool."
Not using this spot to say DMC ain't mine, nope. Not at all. OH LOOK A CHAPTER!
Welcome to Hell~I mean Fortuna!
Chapter Eighteen-The Darkest Heart
As the three teenagers met their respective mentors, and the sons of Sparda mended their broken bridge, the wheel of fate slowly began to turn in Fortuna. It begins with one Charles Ledom. A bald, middle-aged man, who could easily be described as a walking mugshot. He'd earned his position as Supreme General by means of ruthless tactics, as well as a strange ability that he alone seemed to posess. The secret to that ability, however, was the object he always carried with him: a pair of ebony scales. This man was the Agent of Famine.
Charles was sitting in his dark, candle-lit office, looking through casualty reports. There were only three of them, but he was livid. Under most circumstances, he could have cared less about casualties, but these were an exception for two reasons: First, Nero wasn't one of them. Charles hated the silver-haired lad with a vengance and would constantly try to send him to his death. Each and every time, he'd come back just fine. Even after the incident that put his right arm out of comission! Drove him nuts, it did.
But even his hatred of Nero paled in comparison to the other cause of his anger. Those three casualties? They were the officers which he'd entrusted Death, War, and Pestilence. They had been the perfect lackies, never questioning anything he'd said or done, as well as the ones he could tell to kill an innocent person and they wouldn't so much as blink. The only downside to that was the fact that the rest of the Knights would question his lackies' fitness for the job they had. Apparently, those were the most likely to become serial killers or something. Or they had been, because now they're dead.
"Having some trouble there, Charlie-boy?" An annoyingly familiar voice inquired. Ledom sighed, rubing his scalp tiredly.
"Arkham...what do you want?" He muttered tersely. The Jester scowled, crossing his arms and pouting.
"It's Jester, you ninny..." He grumbled before returning to his usual infuriatingly cheery self. "And I'm here to make everything better!" The demonic half of Lady's father grinned as he produced a curious-looking box from no-fucking-where. "Bit on the broken side, you can blame Mundus [He said it in a mocking tone, there. Ah yes, "Reapers." The sentient race of machines responsible for destroying all life in the galaxy every fifity-thousand years. We have dismissed those claims.] for that, but it should more than serve its' purpose!" He explained.
Opening the box, Ledom discovered a katana which had been shattered into several pieces. He sure as hell didn't see anything special about it, so he scowled at Jester. Jester, in turn, sighed and turned around with a facepalm. After a few deep breaths, a bald man with heterochromia and what looked to be a moving scar faced the Supreme General.
"Do me a favor and remain as Arkham whenever we so much as say hello." Charles deadpanned. Arkham didn't exactly respond to that statement, pointing at the broken Katana instead.
"This was the blade that Sparda used to seal the Hell Gate beneath this town. It was then passed on to his eldest son, who used it in order to re-awaken the Temen-Ni-Gru." He explained. "I'd originally planned to give this to the medium I had taken, so that the soul of Yamato's previous owner would be bound to hers easier. However, Fate had intervened. Perhaps this blade will yet prove useful..."
Humming contemplatively, Ledom stared at the Yamato, until a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter." Charles ordered. The door swung open and in walked that stuttering creeper known as Agnus. Or Agnes, if one likes to insult him in such a way. Charles like the Alchemist, he found the stuttering amusing.
"Agnus, perfect timing." Ledom said calmly. "I need you to repair this. Apparently, the Yamato will fill the void out three most recent casualties left." Agnus was shocked, about both Yamato and the casualties.
"You mean to say that out of all the R-r-r-Rider's Arms, Famine's the only one we have left?!" He asked, stuttering. (Face it, we love to hate on him for the way he t-t-t-t-talks. The Wiiiiimp.) Ledom nodded solemnly.
"Yes, but Arkham here was kind enough to give us the Yamato. I'm sure that you'll find a way to repair it, you always do." He said. Arkham nodded, and as he was leaving he offered one last piece of information.
"I had originally planned on taking the Medium alone, but that didn't exactly go as planned. It would be wise to try and convince her to join us regardless. She'll be the one the elder son of Sparda notices, the one he will seek out, for a new body...and power." He said, walking out the door. Agnus scowled at his back, waiting until he was out of earshot before turning back to his superior.
"I don't t-t-t-t-trust him." The alchemist hissed. With a sigh, Ledom shrugged.
"Nobody has to. Once he's outlived his usefulness, he will be disposed of. Now go, and please tell His Holiness that I wish to speak with him on your way out." He said. Agnus nodded and left the room, bumping into a young blonde woman with a stack of files along the way. They glared at one another before she shifted her ire to the bald man at the desk.
"I've got the reports you asked for." She said curtly. Charles took them, trying to grab her hand in the process, but she was faster.
"My darling Angela, why must you act so cold towards me?" He asked. The Supreme General had something of a one-sided infatuation with the blonde secretary, though she would often say how she wished he would just drop dead and leave her the hell alone. Angela glared at him.
"Why must you call people in when they're supposed to be off-duty?" She retorted, green eyes unflinchingly hard. "I'm going to salvage what's left of my day off. So if you need me, don't." With that, she left. Charles sighed wistfully before looking over the reports. Perfectly done, as was her way. Just then, Sanctus walked in.
"Charles, my dear boy." The old man said gently. "I've been told that you've come across some problems in our plans?" Frowning, the bald man nodded. Sanctus reached across the desk and patter his hand in understanding.
"Yes, you Holiness. But it's only a minor setback, I assure you." He replied. Sanctus nodded, a grandfatherly smile stretching his wrinkly old face.
"Good, good. Now, I do hope you've called me here to discuss the festival in six months time?" He asked amiably. Smiling, Charles nodded. The Festival of the Blade, the party Dante crashes in the game. Half a year away, but preparations always began at this time of year.
"Indeed. I was thinking of awarding Lawson's younger sister for the title of Songstress." Ledom explained. Sanctus appeared pleasantly surprised by this.
"Young Kyrie? Why, that's a splendid idea..." He mused. Kyrie Lawson, one of the best singers in the choir. It made her an ideal candidate for the coveted role. "As for the Savior...you said that only one sacrifice would be needed?" Another nod from Charles.
"A medium, able to carry the soul of a Son of Sparda. I've some men working on it as we speak." He explained. Sanctus nodded, smiling with approval.
"Soon. Very soon. We'll have the world for our own, and all will know the glory of the Savior. How we've longed for this day!" The old fart said with a tear in his eye. The rest of their meeting was spent talking about inconsequential things, mostly pertaining to the Festival. Little did they know of the person who'd been listening in the shadows...and they heard everything.
TO BE CONTINUED!
Not sure when the next update will be, because I'm at a point where I'm spinning my wheels. I've got (several) starts on the next chapter, in which I want to properly introduce Secretary Angela Taylor; but I also want to show Credo, Nero, and Kyrie as a family. If anyone has a suggestion, please don't be afraid to speak up! xD
Also, cookie for whomever can identify where I got Charlie-boy's surname from, and KEELEY YOU NEED TO UPDATE YOUR STORY! xD
Anyhow, please review. I'm almost to 50! *wink wink, nudge nudge* Also, anyone think I should have one of those Author's review corner bits? You know, where I respond to users that reviewed and all that?