Unorthodox Approach

[Lerrion]

Here I am, writing a DMC-related fiction. While it's not the first time I try to bring something like this together, it is my first time when I post a story here, on this awesome forum. I hope you people like my humble beginnings here.

And while I am improvising and imagining things, I bring you a small sweet treat to suck on: a short review of the story.

This tale is about Damian - a newcomer to the world of demons. He is rather enigmatic young man well in his twenties, a deuce slayer wielding unusual sword hidden in a long cylindrical bag. While fighting monsters for many years since his teens he came to notoriety recently by defeating a family of mighty demonic entities in their mansion. Since this bloody event that took lives of many fiends, Damian became somewhat a hero among other hunters. Some time later, his reputation as a slayer strengthened even more after he survived a brutal reality program entitled "It's Showtime!" (note the plagiarism, I hope the producers got sued).

Now Damian travels the world, fighting demons, monsters and those who simply annoy him (not a type of a social person).

Hmmm. But something is amiss. Oh, I know what to add! Damian's profile! Now, check this out:

Name: Damian, surname unknown

Profession: Demon Slayer

Age: 27

Nationality: Unknown, probably Royal (he is not of royal blood, it's just the name of the country he's from - simply the Kingdom)

Height: 186 cm

Weight: 92 kg muscles ladies, muscles

Hair: Black, long

Eyes: Green

Apparel: Damian usually wears plain t-shirt with black or dark blue jeans/trousers, good quality work boots, a long black coat with an insignia on the left side of the chest in the form of stylishly carved tulip. About the coat: depending on the weather, he may put on just a jacket or a long sleeve shirt. Otherwise, stay in t-shirt.
Possessions: Sword "Black Tulip", gift from deceased tutor with brown scabbard, hidden in long cylindrical gym bag. In addition to his blade, Damian sometimes carries self made handgun, a heavily modified Mauser c96 pistol from 1940's. He customized this baby, turning it into unrecognizable sub-machine gun. But Damian rarely uses it, citing on ammo shortage.

Personality: When younger, Damian was calm, quiet and modest kid while under training. However, when demons attacked and killed his instructor, Dam vowed revenge, turning into ruthless slayer, cold, sarcastic and to some degree - evil. He hunted the murderers, a family of demons for years, until recent times, when he discovered their location - a mansion deep in European forests. When on mission there he met a woman Maya who softened his cold heart. And now Damian is more friendly to everyone who's not a demon and can be a peach in company of friends.

That's about it I guess. Now I start the story! Just wait for it !

 

[Lerrion]

Let us start, shall we ?

Unorthodox Approach

Chapter 1

Enter the Newbie

The cold wind tried to go under the clothes, to bite the unprotected skin like some small rabid chihuahua. And it did, its sharp little teeth pierced the body well. Damian tried to hide in his coat, but the collar couldn't protect his neck from the wind. This aerial beast, unseen cool and ruthless, hurled his clothes and attempted to take the giant gym bag Damian had carried. Moreover, this mother Nature's nasty bastard has just got stronger. And his big brothers in the face of large bronze clouds above, gathering in one colossal horde. The next minute you know, fat water drops came down. Wind's older siblings spitted on Damian, moisturizing him nearly instantly.

Having no other choice, our strider moved away from the main street, where, despite the late hour, life was boiling: people hurrying to a safe place from rain, cars scurrying about, attempting to splash the pedestrians, pigeons cleaning their wet feathers under the roofs of neon-flashy shops, away from hungry cats that looked at them with green flaming eyes. Damian left all this hustle and bustle.

Backstreets of the large city were less clean, full of garbage cans, card boards, rotting food, thrown away from restaurants, its juices flowing down to the sewers, giving birth to amazingly nauseating smell. However, here, under the protection of some parapets, where buildings come together, was a rather clean and dry spot for a hang over. And here, an old bum stood in front of an old can, throwing pieces of paper into the fire. Damian approached the man.

- Hey, friend, mind if I join you? It's cold and raining cats n' dogs out there in the open! I'll even share some fresh bread I got with you.
- Sure, son, make yourself at home, - the old man sniggered, rubbing his hands.
- Thank you, - Damian dug his hand into the gym bag, bringing a loaf of whit bread to the world. - Here, for you hospitality!
- Appreciated! Say, that's one long bag you got.
- Yes, I do sports.
- You don't look like a sportsman in this coat. More like a... like a... like this mailman guy from the movie! Know what I mean? - the old bum pulled his hat, hiding his ears beneath it, after he swallowed the bread.
- I've seen it. Too long for me. I hate science fiction films. Anyway, I am a sportsman, just got lost a bit in an unfamiliar place, - our guy didn't want to lie, but he'd do everything not to reveal his true profession. - I wish to wait for this storm to pass. You don't mind, do ya?
- Nope, kid. I'd love some company. Here in the north rains go for a while, so I'm afraid you're stuck till morning. Unless you have some coin for a room.
- I've spent my last cash on this bread. Some rascal stole my wallet.
- Poor thing you are. Well, there's enough space for the two of us among these card boards. Sit down, take off your clothes buddy, you're soaking.

Damian followed his advice. He took off his coat and hang it on some old rusted hook jutting out of the brick wall. It was a good coat, colored with dark green it had cool collar, like on those old military overcoats. A reddish insignia in the form of tulip has been sewed on the left chest of the coat. An excellent clothing, it had its disadvantages. While being warm and comfortable, this coat cannot protect from heavy raining like now. However, the overcoat dries out quickly, which is a plus. Damian put his bag by his side and sat on the cold card board, feeling how the fire from the can is wrapping him, giving pleasuring sensations. He looked at his host. The old coot wore an old weathered jacked and dirty blue pants with urine stains. His face, all covered with hair and wrinkles indicating his age: something between fifty five and sixty. Grey eyes were laughing friendly and his bad breath smile amplified his friendly nature: the guy was glad to have someone for chit-chat this night. They did talk a bit, the conversation itself was trivial, so there's no sense in putting it, I'll only spam the story.

After a few hours of talking, Dam felt he was falling into slumber.

- Sorry, Alf, I'm tired. Been walking around all day, - he yawned.
- No problem kid, - old Alfred sat down in front of his new friend, groaning on the way. - Here, use these news papers to cover up! They're nearly as good as fuzz blanket. And have a drink of this.

The traveler accepted a bottle of half empty vodka. The strong brew immediately poured warmth to his whole self. Now Damian completely had shut off, hearing Alf's mumbling turning into something incomprehensible. The black counterpane of dream world had covered Damian's consciousness, leaving no place for visions, only oblivion.

 

[Lerrion]

Our man Damian has a strong head, resistant to alcohol, but this time he felt a terrible headache, once he woke up early in the morning. The rain gone, and yet another son of nature made appearance - the mist. This ethereal haze twirled around like some dumb fish in the aquarium, senselessly. Dam sneezed, and his head exploded into dozens of tiny painful needles, they jumped and flashed before his eyes, each pricking his brain with no mercy. "What the hell was that vodka?! I thought I tried all kinds of booze, but none had such effect on me before. Woo, strong thing," - a small thought passed in his mind, distracting from pain for a while.

- Hey, Al, wake up! Rise and shine? - Damian's eyes went donuts, when he saw a stiletto tufting out of Alfred's throat: a thin thick stream of blood was trickling down the bum's neck, onto the card boards he slept on.
- Sorry, friend, but Alfred won't be able to shine anymore, - a deep hoarse voice whispered from aside.

In the following moment Damian jumped on his feet, pulling out his ace of spades from the bag: a long, beautifully carved blade with tulip-like hilt. The sword went "clinng!" when taken from it's cozy scabbard and gleamed in the mist.

- Who's there?! Are you the killer?! Show yourself!
- Whoa, big guy! Didn't realize you pack such a toothpick in your bag! Relax and look up!

Dam's eyes have found the master of that unpleasant voice. A horned midget sat on the pipe above, dressed like a fool from some medieval castle. His garments were of yellow and pink, and his orange cap couldn't hide the balding head. It's obvious: that was a fiend, a hell spawn. Not only Damian could see it, he felt this.

- So, did you kill Alfred, demon?! Speak now! - Damian's voice boomed in the back street with arrogance and hatred.
- No-no, I am merely an imp who followed you, see! - the hell fool started his excuses in a pattering manner.
- If you're innocent, then get down, and we'll talk.
- First - put away the tooth pick! Second, promise not to hurt the fool! - the demon spoke so fast that our strider could barely make out his words.
- Fine. Here, my blade is gone. Now what are you and why were you following me?

The hell clown with nasty hoarse jump down with ease and started speaking in a much slower paceб circling around Damian. Such a hyperactive imp!

- It's a chance to see the legendary Damian! Everybody knows what you did to the Regnum family! And of course, everybody watched you on Hell-TV cutting off the producer's Werkem's head! Most of my brethren were against you and wished you'd never make it to the next episode! But not me! I liked your performance! Killing a fella human, how neat!
- Hmmpf, this "human" Werkem was possessed by hell powers. I had to cut him down.
- That's what I mean! And since then many watched your every move! Your visit to our city could go unnoticed, Damian! So I had to see you! - the hell fool seemed happy.
- Your concern and support is touching. Phew, never knew I'd had demon fans. Now, do you know, who is responsible for Al's death?
- Yes, yes, I do! The Bitch is! - Fool remarked with malice.
- Excuse me, who?
- The Bitch! That's how we all call her! She came last night, killed your new friend Alfred and wanted to do... Something naughty to you! But I came right on time and saved you!
- How? Why? - Damian couldn't remember when he was the last time he'd been so confused.
- Well, she knows me and my soft tongue. I mean, I just talked her out of this! And she has gone, leaving this souvenir for you.
- Any idea where this mongrel went?
- Nope, sir, no ideas here, - the Fool knocked his head with a tiny scepter in the shape of a rabid bunny.
- I can't let this vixen go around killing humans, especially those, who's been nice to me. She'll pay. Any leads where to find her?
- Nyah, but you should take the stiletto. She's the only bitch in town who runs about with this kind of weaponry! Oh, oh, can I come along? I'll help you out! I know people around who might have info on her!
- Fine, demon, - said Damian, putting on his coat, - but if you do something... demonic, it's your funeral! C'mon, we gotta bury Alfred.
- How?! - the Fool shrugged his shoulders.
- Hmm, in a garbage can? Hell no! - Dam sighed. - I guess I should leave him here. Someone will find him and send to a morgue.

Damian had put poor Alfred's body among the papers, took the knife and left the dirty backstreets with a fool looking demon by his side. Little did our muscular hero know, that his quest for the Bitch is merely a tiny part of something grandeur that might change the life of this whole city...

 

[Dante's Stalker]

The way you described the midget reminded me of Terry Pratchett's work, and your style of writing is a lot like story-telling (like...C.S. Lewis style).
It looks interesting so far.

It's all just rough ideas that you're dotting down, right, so it's not necessary for me to point out the obvious? Anyways... can't wait to see Dante show up ^_^

 

[Lerrion]

Didn't think you'd compare me to Lewis! It's not gonna be a fairy tale styled story. And yup, Dante will show up. I just don't really know whether to include other characters or not, like Lady or Trish. I try to make this piece as colorful as possible, adding many descriptions and adjectives and so on. That "Bitch" demon is merely a key to a door where epic events would take place.

 

[Vergil'sBitch]

I think it sounds very good. Can't wait to read it

 

[Lerrion]

Both were marching in the streets of the city: a tall and strong looking man in black overcoat and a short midget with tiny horns on his head, dressed like a fool in pompous colors. A grotesque couple, and many early morning citizens have taken note, sending somewhat unfriendly glances towards them. But Damian didn't care, he just strolled and strolled, looking in front of him, heavily thinking.

After long silence, Dam finally gave voice:

- So tell me, fiend, who are exactly these people that give me information on this stiletto?
- First, I am Rekrum, - the dwarf hissed, - second, I know a bar on the other side of town. Called "Hole Whispers", but everybody just names it "Whisper". There's a guy who always hangs out at the bar stand, Mel is his name. He knows everything about this city. And you should take a cab.
- I lost my wallet. Actually, it got stolen. So, we're walking there, Rekrum.
- Are you kidding?! It will take hours to get there! My delicate tiny legs won't make it! - Rek was about to cry; what an annoying little imp!
- You don't wanna go, suit yourself, - Damian waved his hand in a nonchalance manner. - You slow me down anyway.

For a moment Rekrum stopped, showing shock of Damian's cruel words. Then his face shifted into something one can describe as "innocent puppy". Receiving no attention from his new found companion, Rel shorty rushed towards him, coming alongside of our slayer.

- Alright, fine! I'll come along! You need a guide! But I warn you, - Rek coughed, sounding like a sick old dog, - it's three hours of walking!
- I once passed through the endless taiga of Russia, chasing one demented bookworm who stole a valuable jewel from my teacher. I think I can handle your three hours, - Dam sounded angry.
- Wow, you never seize to amaze me, sir Damian! - the fool grinned with a tongue in cheek. - Please tell me, your biggest fan, how it went!
- Another time, man. My head still hurts.
- Now this should be a lesson to you - don't accept vodka from bums in our city, even if they are friendly! - Rekrum giggled like a girl, although his laughter sounded more like a pig snarl.

Damian sighed. He had a plenty of companions during his travels; none of them being such a nuisance.

Large clouds glided high in the skies, covering the cool autumn sun from time to time. It got warmer a little, however, Damian didn't want to take off his cozy overcoat yet. Our odd pair has passed through the busy neighborhood of the giant ant nest metropolis and entered a more quiet and smaller boulevard with "Vintwood" on white street signs. A pleasant place where you can go out with your girl or pet, or just friends.

 

[Vergil'sBitch]

Nice start Lerrion

 

[Lerrion]

The trees have been planted with symmetrical accuracy on the street, benches with trash cans between them. All is good, neat and nothing like the busy and filthy main streets. Too perfect, Dam thought. And he thought right. Something evil lurked among the treacherous side-streets, hunting its prey.

Ever since he confronted his first demon, Damian had learned how to feel them, even catch the barely smellable odor they're secreting. And now his entire being had strained itself, for there was a dangerous demon around. As the slayer went further, ignoring Rek's remarks, he grew more worried. Closer, closer. There, on the far side of the alley way, away from the boulevard, a shadowy figure hanging over a little girl. Damian knew if he doesn't hurry, the monster might tear her to shreds or worse - possess the poor child if it is of ethereal form.

Dashing towards the tormentor, Dam threw his heavy gym bag at the hell spawn, crying: "Hey!" It worked, the demon turned around, a nasty conglomeration of black rags and red eyes, instinctively catching the object. Damian drew his gun, hidden in a holster behind his back, giving his distracted target a lead breakfast. Gunshots rudely interrupted the silence, amplifying their echoing in close quarters of the side-street.

With no hesitation, hero lunged at the fallen creature, laying several heavy bashes right between the eyes of his nemesis. While the demon tried to recover, the slayer pulled out the stiletto and started slicing, as if the shadow stalker was a piece of butter. Damian was done only when the fiend had screeched out its final breath, turning into a pile of dirt cloth and used bullets. There wasn't even blood. A semi-ethereal demon, one kind that Damian really hated.

He stood up, slowly regaining his calmness and grabbing his bag, stepping up to see how's the girl doing. Rekrum yelled "bravo!" behind his back, but Damian didn't pay attention. He ignored the strong smell of burned gun powder, the vodka headache has been disregarded as well. Dam only cared for the child, who rolled into a ball in her corner, shaking and staring into the brick floor.

- Are you okay, kid? - He helped the girl to get up.
- Yes, I think so. Th... thank you, - she snapped out of her horror.
- No problem, - Dam squeezed out a thin smile. This cute thing smiled back at him.

Now that all was over, he could take a better look at her. She was a teenager, fifteen, probably sixteen, wearing tight jeans, purple jacket and a pair of Converse All Stars shoes. Clearly a rocker who stayed late at some party or disco. Her make up went all bad due to tears coming down her round face.

- I feel better now, sir. But... but what was that...thing?
- Definitely not a rapist! - Rekrum couldn't resist of putting in his word.
- Your friend looks kinda funny, - teeny still sniffed and trembled, though not so intensively.
- That's because I am a fool! Here to entertain you! - he made a ludicrous short dance in front of her, gently poking her in the knee. - Ta dah! I'm Rekrum! And the brave hero who just saved you - is Damian!

The damsel in distress laughed. Her voice was clear and attractive.

- And I am Mana! I know my name is weird, my father has strange tastes.
- Speaking of your father, can you get home?
- Come on, Damian! Be a gentleman and escort the young lady! - Rekrum didn't shut up.
- Sorry, Mana, me and my pal have important matter to attend to.
- That's ok, you've done enough, thank you, - now her gray eyes shined with happiness, all is behind.
- See you around, kid, - Damian patted her shoulder and they parted ways.

 

[Lerrion]

I will continue writing soon. In fact, I am going to sit down on next Monday morning and finish this chapter 1. I was just SO busy with my studies, I couldn't do anything else. But now, since I've passed the "tests" and actually, free from lessons till October, I can calmly proceed with my little fan fic....

 

[DreadnoughtDT]

Man, I wish I'd seen this earlier. Great fic so far. Glad it'll be continued soon.

 

[Mr Anderson]

i concur it is interesting