I do not own Devil May Cry or any of its characters.
A.N.:I liked the White Rabbit in Netflix's new anime enough that I'm going to use him as a real demon. I don't own him either.
Uninvited
Oliver sighed heavily as he settled into his chair, grimacing as he held a hand to his chest, setting his cane against the armrest. He picked up a small short-range radio beside himself and pressed the switch.
"Morrigan, would you mind bringing me some tea?" Oliver asked.
"I'd be happy too, Master Oliver," Morrigan responded as soon as he'd released the button.
Oliver smiled. Ever the faithful servant. He sometimes wondered if she just held the radio at all times, waiting for him to call. He glanced up at the seat opposite the coffee table from him, where his head butler, Mr. White, was just cleaning four pistols. Just as Oliver looked over at him, Mr. White set the rag aside, now stained a dark crimson, and began to reassemble the pistols.
His white-furred hands skillfully manipulated the many, many miniscule pieces of the weapons, the small, round claws allowing him to insert the pins into their place easily. His hands were a blur, and within a minute, the first gun was finished. Then the next, then the next, then the last. As he set the last in line with the rest, Oliver smiled, admiring the two Walther PPQs and the two FN 5.7s now resting on the table. Mr. White picked up a separate rag, this one damp, and quickly cleaned the red from his hand before pulling on his pristine white gloves, which matched the cravat at his neck and the ruffles on the ends of his sleeves, once again completing his butler's uniform, which included a gold-rimmed monocle. His elongated nose twitched, his whiskers quivering, and his long, white ears twitched above his head.
"Right on time, as always," Mr. White's smooth voice announced Morrigan's arrival.
"Of course," Morrigan smiled, setting a cup of tea in front of Oliver.
She stepped back, curtsying, and Oliver smiled, admiring her maid dress, as always. The black skirt of the dress was shaped into small points along the bottom and it hung close to her legs, a white cloth wrapped around her slim waist, and the top of the dress was cut inappropriately low, down to the bottom of her sternum, below her sizeable cleavage. The top was sleeveless, and her slender arms were covered by detached, charcoal-grey sleeves that reached from a loop around her middle fingers up to mid-bicep. She wore a narrow, black choker around her neck, the bottom of it bordered by black lace, and her straight hair fell to the curve of her waist with her bangs swept to her right. If not for her icy-blue skin, glowing, crimson irises, and her fiery, red hair, she could pass for human. Well, that and the two small, foot-long bat wings extending outward from the sides of her head.
Mr. White chuckled as he watched Oliver's eyes sweep over Morrigan's body, Morrigan smiling seductively. "I swear, sometimes you two make me wonder which of us is the rabbit around here."
Oliver smiled. "That'll be all for now, Morrigan. Thank you."
Morrigan smiled, nodding, and gave him a lingering kiss before walking away to return to her duties.
Oliver picked up his tea cup, his hand trembling for a moment before stilling once he'd taken a sip. Mr. White watched his hand carefully, until he'd set down the cup and relaxed into the chair.
"I'm glad to see that the tea is still helping," Mr. White mused.
"Agreed," Oliver nodded. "If not for Morrigan using her powers to help me..." he shook his head. "What...five...six years ago?"
"Or more," Mr. White nodded, then smiled. "Well, on to brighter news. I've finished with your pistols. They are now Devil Arms. They'll never run out of ammo."
"Thank you," Oliver smiled, then paused. "How does it work?"
"Well, as Devil Arms, these pistols are now living objects as much as weapkns," Mr. White explained. "The metal will now be virtually indestructible, and as you fire, they will regenerate any ammunition you expend, and faster than you can fire them. The ammunition stock essentially heals as you expend it."
"I see," Oliver nodded, then picked up his cane.
It was entirely metal, had a functional grip head, the type that turned at a right angle, with the end of the handle decorated by a small, metal, human skull, except with a hair of short, conical horns, and then the end of the handle where it met the shaft of the cane decorated by a small, metal, ram's skull. The shaft of the cane was smooth, but it tapered into a small, rounded point.
"And how does this one work?" Oliver asked. "And where'd you find it? Or make it?"
Just as Mr. White opened his mouth to respond, however, someone knocked on the door. Oliver frowned, raising an eyebrow, and sighed. Then grunted and pushed himself to his feet with his cane before leaning it against the side of his chair long enough to gather his pistols and holster them, the FN 5.7s on the back of his belt and the PPQs on the sides of his ribs, under his sport coat. Then, he picked up his cane again, leaning heavily on it and sighing, nodding to Mr. White. Mr. White returned the nod and stood, straightening his attire before walking swiftly into the foyer and to the door. Then, with a flourish, he opened the door, stepping aside and bowing with an arm across his chest, welcoming the visitor into the foyer just as Oliver reached it, leaning heavily on his cane to aid his mobility. Oliver raised an eyebrow as a young woman swept into the room. She had crimson hair in a braid on the left side of her head, her bangs covering her left eye and the braid tipped in a small, metal cap. She wore a white poncho or mantle with a high collar reaching nearly up to her nose and open on her left side, a tight, blue-grey, midriff shirt with three-quarter sleeves, matching, skin-tight pants, knee-high, high-heeled, leather boots, and a pair of fingerless, leather gloves. The shirt had stitching giving it a scaled, or possibly feather-like, appearance, and strapped to her thighs were a pair of shortswords with curved blades, shaped like elephant tusks, with gently-curved, gold hilts. Oliver had no idea who this woman was, but he could sense this woman was a threat the moment he saw her.
"Well, I guess the rumors are true, then," the woman said, glancing at Mr. White. "You employ devils."
"Everyone needs a job," Oliver shrugged. "Mr. White is extremely loyal and effective. I couldn't ask for a better head butler. Who are you, exactly?"
"Lucia," the woman answered simply. Lucia hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder about the other rumor."
"Which is?" Oliver asked.
In answer, Lucia's arm snapped up, a knife flashing across the room in the blink of an eye, only for Oliver to lean aside, avoiding the knife with inhuman speed. He watched her coldly as Lucia's eyes narrowed.
"Devil," Lucia accused.
Mr. White moved his right hand to the left side of his waist, closing his hand just as a beautiful, white-silver rapier appeared in his hand and along his side in a wave of red light.
"Mr. White," Oliver spoke clearly. "Stand down."
Mr. White's nose and ears twitched, but he released the rapier, which vanished again, and straightened up. "As you wish, Master Oliver."
Oliver nodded, still not taking his eyes off of Lucia. Finally, Oliver's eyes turned entirely black at the pupils and he let his cane fall. As soon as it struck the ground, their clash began. In an instant, they were racing around the foyer, Lucia hurling knives with horrifying speed and precision, only for Oliver to rip his PPQs from their holsters, firing rapidly and shooting the knives out of the air. He didn't try to harm her, however, targeting her knives exclusively. He waited, whittling down her stock of knives carefully. However, after nearly five minutes, and hundreds of knives, he understood the futility of it. She clearly had a Devil Arms generating the knives, just as his guns now generated infinite ammunition. And just as this understanding settled in both of them from opposite perspectives, Luvia abandoned her ranged tactics, ripping her curved blades from her thighs at the same time as Oliver cast his pistols aside and snatched up his cane. As Lucia launched herself at Oliver, holding her blades both in reverse grip, Oliver flicked his cane sharply, the shaft flattening into a long, narrow blade, like that of a rapier, leaving room just above the head for his hand. And then, the true clash had begun. Lucia spun and twirled, and flipped, her blades lashing out over and over, only for Oliver's blade to deflect and intercept her blades, a near-endless shower of sparks filling the air around them as Oliver ducked and dodged and lunged and parried, slashing and thrusting his blade into Lucia's over and over. Still he didn't target Lucia, only seeking to keep her blades from reaching him.
Lucia spun around him, twirling, but he jumped, flipping over her blades as they lashed out through the space he'd occupied a moment before, but just as he landed, she lunged into a twirl before he could fully raise his defenses again. The first blade knocked his cane from his hand, and the second swept around at him in a lethal arc. He dove away from it, suffering only a shallow cut on his shoulder, but Lucia pursued him. And then, in a flash of movement, the battle stopped. Mr. White shoved Oliver aside roughly, and Lucia's blade sliced through his chest from his right side, under his arm, deeply, spilling his blood across the floor. Lucia blinked in surprise, leaping backward, but as Mr. White sagged, Oliver caught him.
"Mr. White!" Oliver gasped.
"I'm alright," Mr. White smiled, his wound sealing itself rapidly. "No permanent damage, though I believe I may need to change my clothing."
"You would shield your master?" Lucia asked. "If that fight hadn't confirmed my suspicions, this did."
"Miss Lucia, I humbly request that you hear Master Oliver out," Mr. White requested.
Lucia narrowed her eyes, but then looked to Oliver as he sank to the floor, clutching at his sides as the black receded from his eyes, leaving him sweating and his face contorted in pain. "What's wrong with you?"
"I'm dying," Oliver answered. "I was infected with demon blood when I was young. It granted me enhanced physical abilities, as you've seen, but at a price. It's leeching away at my life force, and using the abilities it gives me speeds up the process."
He nodded his thanks as Mr. White passed him his cane, no longer a sword, and Oliver struggled to his feet, making his way to the table where he lifted the tea cup that remained there, forgotten, to his lips, draining it and sighing in relief. Lucia narrowed her eyes, but as Oliver turned to her, he still looked awful.
"Mr. White had served my family, a family of demon hunters, for generations," Oliver continued. "When I was infected, he sought the help of a pair of other devils, one of them, Samhain, works as my chef and as protection when I require it, alongside Mr. White. My head maid, on the other hand, is a Leanan Shídhe named Morrigan. She uses her powers to make me tea that stabilizes the blood in order to prolong my life. I'm on borrowed time, but I use it to hunt demons."
Lucia stared at him, then nodded. "That would explain things. But why are devils willing to serve humans peacefully?"
"We're not the first," Mr. White pointed out. "I defected alongside Sparda. I wished to live a peaceful life. Morrigan and Samhain are more reasonable than most devils, and agreed that a peaceful life of service was preferable to the chaos and danger of living in the Demon World."
Lucia nodded, then bowed slightly to Oliver. "I was mistaken to attack you. My appolo-"
"My, my," a deep, masculine voice spoke out, everyone spinning to face the speaker. "I certainly wasn't expecting you to give in so easily."
Standing in the center of the room, without even Mr. White having noticed his arrival, was a man wearing a long, black trench coat, a dark, metal mask bearing only a pair of slit eyeholes, and holding a large sword with the tip of the blade resting on the floor in front of him, his hands resting one atop the other on the pommel. The blade was about four feet long and looked to be made out of scales, but the center of the blade bore interlocking fangs, an ominous, orange light flickering from inside the seam the fangs bridged. The guard bow a large, black talon on the ends, and the grip was clearly scales with a large, orange eye on the pommel with a slit pupil.
"Who are you?" Mr. White asked coldly, sending the clear danger this man radiated.
"Oh, forgive me," the man bowed. "Where are my manners? I am Azi Dahaka, though for simplicity's sake, you may call me simply Dahaka. I have searched for you for a very long time, White. I never would have guessed that you were working as a slave for a handful of lowly humans. You hid yourself well."
"Why are you searching for me?" Mr. White asked.
"You thought you could defect with the traitor and not suffer consequences?" Dahaka chuckled.
Mr. White's tail twitched behind him, his ears angling slightly. "Forgive me, Master Oliver. I seem to have brought danger upon you."
"It's not a problem," Oliver assured him. "There's only one of him."
"A fair point," Dahaka nodded, then snapped his fingers.
In an instant, the windows and the front door all exploded inward, dozens of torso-sized insects swarming into the room, more seeming to grow from the ground. Oliver, Mr. White, and Lucia all snarled agitatedly.
"Is this better?" Dahaka asked.
"Well, it seems our home has an infestation, again," Oliver commented, flicking his cane into a blade.
"I shall call the exterminator," Mr. White said, moving his right hand to the left side of his waist, once again conjuring a rapier.
"Lucia, would you mind helping me with the pests?" Oliver asked.
"What about him?" Lucia asked, eyeing Dahaka.
"Leave him to Mr. White," Oliver said seriously. "Mr. White can handle him."
Lucia hesitated, then nodded. Then, just as the insects all swarmed inward, the four combatants erupted into movement.
Leave a review.