Nauseated breaths escaped out of Viola's mouth. Her body bent over one of the many tiled roofs, leftovers of previous meals and bile stained on her mouth. She felt another heave, another intake, and so came another round of empty vomiting.

Groaning, she moved the back of her hand to wipe away the residue, ungracefully.

She'd remark on her lack of grace but to be honest she stopped giving a damn for a while now what with the state of her dress and herself, blonde hair formerly a neat bun was now fully undone, locks now covered her face, with bangs sticking to her forehead, the hems of her skirt were dirtied covered in dried blood and muck, and some tears and holes we're visible, revealing the black pants she wore under it.

The stains and tears were the result of falling on her rear, after Gas... after Gascoigne tried to kill her.

Breaths becoming softer, she looked up to the rising oppressive moon.

She stared.

She stared, and the moon stared back.

Gascoigne.

What happened to him? To her husband? Gods… he raised his axe at her, he wanted to kill her.

Kill her.

Her own husband, the father of their daughter.

A choked sob escaped at the thought, uncaring for the one watching her.

Gods, what was she to do? A father that wanted to kill his wife, and possibly even her daughter, all because she forgot to bring the box.

Their wedding gift, something to always remind her love of what awaits him after a tiring day. Gascoigne always chuckled at the box.

A Somber smile graced her face for a moment, before dissipating like the fading sun.

Viola breathed out again, she stood straight, and turned.

To it.

Her savior.

Tall, it's skin grey and stone like, shoulders proud, a bat creature nestled on it's chest, horns protruding from both sides of it's grey head with a (disturbingly and curiously) human face and stubble accompanying said face. Viola thought this was a sentient, talking beast, but after what'd she seen against the fight Gascoigne…

It was the devil itself. And the devil saved her.

"Ready?" baritone booming from it's male voice, she flinched.

"Y-yes."

"If you need to rest-" it attempted to say.

"No… I'm fine." she interrupted her devil-savior, despite her fear of it, she knew it did not want to hurt her.

(Yet…)

"We're almost there, we should press on, I'm almost home."

It nodded

The Grey Devil approached her and grabbed her waist once more.

Discomfort spread through her body like the beast plague at the repeated action.

"Sorry" said the Devil as it did many times before, and as many times she would be surprised.

And the grey devil aimed it's odd firearm, a firearm odd in that it did produce a puff of smoke once fired, was not loud, but almost silent, and had a hook attached to it's barrel.

"Hold on."

It fired.

The world spun as it always has with this devil, and always did they land into another roof.

Tiles clicking at their landing, shifting, eroded, blackened tiles.

She recognized the surrounding buildings, their neighbors.

"We're close!"

And yet worry pooled in her gut for her daughter, more specifically, if she was even there.

Oh our sweet Auburn, I hope you did not do something foolish like your mother.

Central Yharnam

"Down there! On that large wide square space!"

It grunted, acknowledging. Firing a hook into the current rooftop, the Dark Knight set the grapple to a descent function, and with a step of the roof (and the accompanying "hold tight"). They descended in a controlled manner.

SWIIRRRRRRRRRRRRR-CHIK

Boot and heel thudded against the stone floor, Viola rushed out of the Grey Devils grip, a full sprint to their house, to a window,

She knocked repeatedly on it.

"Auburn! Auburn!"

A young voice responded.

"Mother? Mother?! MOTHER!"

Pink Curtains were opened wide, a child no more than 7 at most with blonde hair, same as Viola's, her eyes were wide, bright, joyful, why after all her mother had came back to her.

Alive.

Injured ruffled, but alive, on the night of a hunt no less, that was a miracle.

"Mother!"

The girl left the window, making her way to the door, unlocking it's multiple locks, Viola moved to the entrance, knee on the floor, arms outstretched.

The door unlocked.

And came out a happy blonde girl, dressed in red pajamas with white stripes.

"MOTHER!" screamed a young little ball of energy before she crashed into Viola.

"Oof!"

"I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!-"

She placed her hand on blonde hair, petting it, pushing Auburn's head into her neck.

"I missed you too."

And from a dark corner, a watchful protector, a Dark Knight, observed from a nearby rooftop, returning into the shadows the moment Viola left his grip.

A (small) smile adorned the Dark Knight's face, the sight of a child being reunited with her parent, after all, was something he never had, of course there was Alfred (he loved him of course) and while he helped, it… wasn't enough, nothing would ever be enough to fill that void, it's his reason for being the Batman in the first place, to make sure no child would ever go through his pain again.

And he prevented that pain, If only partially, a child was not left alone without a parent, yes, but the girl was still missing a father.

Gascoigne, he needs to be dealt with.

The Dark Knight's face scrunched in thought, and as he mulled over what to do, Viola suddenly stood up, the child in her arms had grown limp, falling asleep, Viola whispering lullabies into her child's ear, rubbing her back as she did so, she walked towards the entrance of her house, then paused.

Viola looked back, searching for it.

And it stared back, on a rooftop, it's cape flowing In the wind, the large moon oppressively looming with it, and it's eyes, oh it's eyes were no longer as blue as the ocean, they were soulless and white. The rest of the devil's body was shrouded by darkness, it continued to stare and then the shadowy devil dropped down, cape expanding as it landed knees first, it rose, menacingly, bat-chest puffed and proud.

Viola stepped back, clutching Auburn tightly, shifting her body so that Auburn wasn't in front of her.

It stopped, raising a hand, speaking lowly.

"Calm down. I have questions about him and yourself."

Him, Viola knew what it meant.

However Viola remained weary, her motherly instinct becoming frenzied, rational thought was diminishing quickly, she eyed the doorway, estimating how long it would take to sprint to it, her trust of the devil being outweighed by her instinct to protect.

The devil stood there, statuesque hand still raised, eyes soulless, boring into her.

She stared back with a panicked but hardened gaze, she couldn't think straight.

Focus!

Breathing in-and-out and calming she reassessed the devil in front of her, unmoving and trying to clearly de-escalate the situation. Panic lessened it's grip on her heart and her mind no longer frenzied with fear.

Viola glanced at her daughter then looked back, she mouthed a single word to the devil, not wanting to risk waking her up.

"Quietly."

And she turned, towards her house, light footsteps as she walked.

The Dark Knight followed, silently, ducking under the doorway slightly due to his ears and height.

As he walked in, he looked back to the large moon, getting one last look at a friendly sight before closing the wooden door silently.

This would take a while.

There was a battle.

Gravestones reduced to rubble, smashed flooring and depressed dirt everywhere, tree trunks missing their other half, bodies and limbs accompanied by guts, bone dried blood spread out around floor, pellets from a blunderbuss were found on a wall high up and around random parts of tomb, axe marks carved into a building. Chaos surrounded Odeon Tomb.

And he didn't know why. He didn't like that, Gascoigne and him were supposed to meet here, he could handle himself, he can.

Yet all he found was destruction, death, gore and Gascoigne's effects, his hat, loose pieces of eye wrap, teeth, shredded clothing and worst of all. His weapons, both axe and blunderbuss were snapped in half, worry churned in his gut at the sight.

Who could've done this? Not only that, where was Gascoigne's body? He lost a fight, clearly, but he didn't lose his life. (or so he hoped)

Something bested him, it was not the corpses of random yharnamites, and it was certainly not the group he slaughtered just outside this tomb, no.

And it definitely was neither Hunter or Beast, a Hunter would've made a messy but swift kill of Gascoigne, no Hunter would break another's weapons, and no Beast would move a meal or avoid consuming a meal after a tough victory, and such clean snaps to the weapons? Without teeth marks?

Nothing added up, and that worried him even more.

Then he noticed it, glinting in the pale moonlight there was a knife? It was something sharp, clearly, but the design was something he'd never seen before, he picked it up.

It was a bat? The sharp object was entirely shaped like one, and not only that, the level of craftsmanship surprised him, it was good.

Real good, balanced, yet it still held weight to it, edges sharpened to perfection, holes were placed in the middle of it oddly enough with ears in the middle of the object's frame, that aside, everything else was perfect as the foreign object's quality was on a level he'd never seen before.

Whoever crafted this was a pro, and that scared him.

What did Gascoigne fight?