Devil May Cry - Series Fan Fiction ❯ War of Minds ❯ Chapitre Un ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Note/Disclaimer: Though none of the canon characters appear in this chapter, I'd like to warn you that I don't own Dante, etc. etc. or any other portion of the Devil May Cry universe.

Carbrey, Martine and all characters and places mentioned in this chapter are mine. So is the crowbar.

Reviews would be wonderful, this is my first fanfiction so please tell me anything I need to improve on. Also, suggestions for a title would be awesome, though I suppose it's a bit too early to really tell what's on.

I need an editor. e__e;

 

 

 

Martine sighed, and the car rumbled to a stop by the side of the road. It was in a terrible state of disrepair, and this was a new car. She turned to Carbrey, who was sitting, staring out of the window, silent and pensive in a way that rather worried her friend.

 

“Car,” Martine began gently, so as not to startle the girl. “Car, this is as far as I'll go. I know the state of the roads in this part, and I don't have enough of a pay check to afford new tyres, or anything else these roads might wreck. I'm sorry.” The other girl finally turned, and nodded silently.

 

“It's okay. I can walk from here, it's not too far. Thanks for taking the time to drive me,” Carbrey said, with one of her warm, gentle smiles that were, unfortunately, rare. Martine returned it with one of her own and drove away, thinking no more of the quiet young woman.

 

The road was in rather bad condition, Carbrey admitted. People were too wary about this place, so they pretended it didn't exist. Even the surrounding regions were a little apprehensive of going too close for an extended period of time. It was - or at least, it had been a respectable, middle-class suburb, nothing distinguishing it from any other in either positive or negative aspects. But that had all changed once the murders started.

 

Of course, murders were nothing new. People were murdered every day. But it was blood-chilling, nerve-wracking, to hear about murders like these. Whole victims torn apart, faces chewed off, morbid entrails arranged around the room. It was disgusting even hearing about them. The murderer had not been caught; no sign ever left of his being there - except, of course, the victims themselves.

 

Most of the residents had soon packed up and left, so the region was like a ghost town; more than half the buildings abandoned or falling apart, even street gangs too scared to take over in a place that would seem like a black market's paradise. Few people remained, and they were spread far and wide. Carbrey was unfazed by murders, and had been attracted to the place despite its gory history. Well, houses were cheap, anyway. People were only too glad to get rid of anything that might tie them with this place. It was haunted by ghosts and fear for those who had known someone killed like this - and that was practically everyone. Carbrey, on the other hand, was oddly interested in this morbid tale, and preferred not to think of the allegorical demons that lurked around every corner.

 

Though she'd been walking along rather slowly, lost in her musings, Carbrey stopped and looked up when she heard a sound from up ahead, though she couldn't see what was happening over the hill. It sounded like violence - street fights were still common on the outskirts of the area, where people were a little braver. Well, whatever it was, she definitely didn't want to get involved in it. Quickly looking around, she spotted an open door, probably leading to a basement shop - she didn't think anymore, but just darted down before the fight came her way. She hated violence, and definitely didn't want to get caught up in a brawl.

 

The shop she eventually came down to was small, well-lit and seemed to be new. There was no one at the counter, so she guessed that the owner had gone up to see the fight, or had left before that, for lunch break or something, though it was odd that the shop was open. Oh well, at least it was handy. She paused for a moment, hearing the fight come over the hill, escalating as it went. Normally, she would have thought nothing of it, but then she heard a snarl, and heavy footsteps descending the staircase. Frantically looking about, she saw a `Staff Only'… they usually had locks, the oddly calm, logical part of her mind said. She darted in, pausing to lock the door behind her. She turned, leaning back against the door, her heart pounding and her breathing heavy, though she tried to stifle it as much as she could.

 

It was almost empty, a few nondescript cardboard boxes stacked in the corner and a shelf rolled absentmindedly to the side containing some screwdrivers, a crowbar and, for some reason, a gun. Carbrey rolled the shelf away a little (the room was absolutely tiny) and crouched behind it, chin resting on the cold steel mesh, eyes closed as if that would make everything go away.

 

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The next thing Carbrey knew, she was lying on a cold, hard floor. She sat up, looking around and rubbing her back. Somehow, it seemed sleep had hit her like a bullet in the face, a metaphor she found oddly disturbing when she remembered there was a gun in the room. She crawled to the door, pressing her ear against it, but there was no noise that she could hear. She couldn't reach the tiny window, but as far as she could tell there was no one around. Good.

 

However, the silence was also odd. Something in it made her uneasy, and she decided she should probably take something to use as a weapon…just in case. Her gut instinct screamed self-defence would be necessary, so turning her attention back to the shelf she'd hid behind, she figured the best thing she could take was the crowbar. The store wouldn't miss it, hopefully, and crowbars were always useful. After all, people in stories always ended up in a situation where they could have escaped, could have gotten an all-important item, could have rescued someone else, et cetera, if only they'd had a crowbar.

 

Well…not, of course, that life was a story. She'd been reading too many of those legends lately.

 

She didn't know how to use a gun (and she didn't know if it was loaded anyway…hopefully not. The thought chilled her.) and screwdrivers were never useful. And a crowbar was easy to carry; she could slip it through her belt loop and off she went, leaving her hands free. Of course, she would probably make her way home safely and then feel like a complete fool, but…better safe than sorry. She had a bad feeling about this.

 

Cautiously, she unlocked the door and peeked out into the shop. No one seemed to be around, but the unnerving quality of the silence did not lift. Tense, she opened the door and quietly stepped into the main shop, eyes darting around, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything that didn't look right.

 

Then she noticed the floor.

 

It was covered in footprints. She could recognise some faint ones as her own old sneakers, leading nervously to the store room and back again, but the only other set was more like…claws. Talons. Anyway, it was not human, and it was gigantic. And the footprints, bloody footprints as it were, led straight up to her door. In fact, the door was covered in deep scratches, like someone had gouged a knife into the door, over and over. And next to it, there was a hole in the wall, straight through the bricks. She hadn't noticed it when she'd first woken up, but…by this point, she was trembling uncontrollably.

 

She wasn't dead, was she? She wasn't a ghost, or at least she didn't think she was. Frantic, she looked down at herself. No, as far as she could tell she was still solid, still all there, still human. Still alive. Okay, it was probably rather odd to check up on that, but she was oddly relieved to find that she still had a pulse. Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Carbrey left the shop, forcing herself not to look at the floor.

 

Everything still seemed to be the same outside as when she'd left, but she could just…it was that odd gut feeling again, that harsh whisper in her mind telling her that all was not well. Something was wrong. That something could be around the corner. Now sufficiently scared, she wiped sweating hands on her thighs, feeling strangely comforted by the cool iron. At first not sure of what to do, she decided the best thing would be to go home.

 

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As she walked, Carbrey realised that there was no one around. Of course, the area was generally rather lonely, but you would usually run across one or two people in a twenty-minute walk. She'd been letting her feet wander for more than an hour, and hadn't heard so much as a sigh. She'd also passed her little townhouse three or so times, but…there was something just preventing her from going in. That gut feeling again, of course.

 

There was something cold in the air, though it was only early autumn. It was something that chilled her to the bone, some sort of ferocious, demonic presence lurking, that she could not place. Perhaps this was what the former residents of the area felt like - like there was something haunting them, always waiting just around the next corner.

 

Carbrey forced herself to stop, and found that she was weary. Her mind whirled to a stop, and she collapsed, face pale, lips nearly blue, eyes open just the barest slit. To all appearances, she looked as one dead.