Blue Rose

Disclaimer – all I do is write fanfics. I don’t own ANYTHING. -_-
Rating – R
Warning – just for foul language, mainly.

Enjoy!




The blue rose does not grow naturally. Despite its beauty, it is, in fact, a mutant. Two natural forces came together under unnatural circumstances to create the blooming flower. Still, it is regarded as a lovely variety of rose - though it has come to represent mystery due to its strange creation.

My mother used to tell me and Verg that story when we were kids. She liked comparing people to flowers, and she always called us blue roses. Frankly, I didn’t really get why. My bro seemed to understand, but if I tried to ask him about it, he usually just rolled his eyes and smacked me one – which usually started a fight that Mom had to break up.

Verg was always like that – kicking my ass for no reason at all. He got more violent the older he got, too. Pathetic as it is, I think I might actually enjoy getting an asskicking from him now, but...well, I guess that doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead and gone, and there’s no point in me wanting something I can’t get back. So, instead, I kill. I’m getting my revenge on those bastard demons little by little. Eventually I’ll get the ones that made my brother turn against me. Someday...

I wonder what my mom would say if she could see me now.

Somehow, I don’t think she’d call me a blue rose.

Come to think of it, if my mom could see the drunk slut blowing me right now, she’d probably run the bitch out in a fury. Now, you’re probably wondering why I’m being all philosophical while I’m getting a blowjob. This chick isn’t bad at what she does; I’m just not into it right now. Christmas is a pretty shitty time of year for me, and I’m not half as liquored up right now as I’d like to be. Still, she’s probably expecting me to cum pretty soon, so I’d better do that.

I orgasm with a growl, and she drinks it all down, like she always does. Like I said, she’s pretty talented. I mean, I gotta be honest – I got a lot of tubesteak and manjuice for her to deal with, but she takes it like a pro. That’s why I hire her every year.

I finally take my hands out of her hair and turn her chin up to me. I can tell she wants to fuck me, and I usually give into her, but like I said before, I’m just not into it right now. I crack her a smile anyway, trying to play the nice guy.

“Same time next year, babe?”
“...yeah, yeah, Dan,” she responds, and I can hear disappointment in her voice.
“Aw, don’t be like that. Tell ya what. I’ll pay ya double,” I offer.

She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell that that’s good enough for her. This is her job, so the money is always first for her. Getting to sleep with me would just be a bonus incentive. She smiles, standing up and giving me a better view of her tits. She only took off her shirt and bra this time, but she really does have a great body. Normally I’d be tearing at her clothes right about now, but I can’t even get hard again for some reason.

I watch as she puts on her lacy little black bra – it doesn’t do a damn thing for covering her boobs, but it really lifts ‘em up. She puts her shirt on next. It’s a button up sweater thing that you’re obviously supposed to wear over a tank top or something, but a person in her line of work has no reason to wear that much clothes. She adjusts the shirt, making sure that her butterfly tattoo at her waist is showing. It’s a nice tattoo, I gotta give her that. She straightens her pink, leopard print miniskirt, which – of course – matches her sweater top. She bends over to dust off her knees a bit, casting a devious smile at me as she does so.

I’m still sitting with my cock hanging out of my pants, but I’m too damn lazy to tuck it back in at the moment. Besides, I gotta remind her what she’ll be coming back to next year. If good pay and the chance to fuck me isn’t a good incentive for a prostitute, then I don’t know what is.

I lean over a little, rifling through the drawer of my nightstand. I stashed some money there earlier for her – enough to cover the cost at double price at least. I pull out a wad, trying to count off the amount, but I guess I’m more drunk than I thought. Finally, I just hand her what I know is more than enough, and she stuffs the little wad of bills into her purse.

“Nice doin’ business with ya, sexy,” she calls out, sauntering out of my room. A minute later, the front door opens and closes. Geez. She sure took a while to get out. Well, she was pretty drunk herself. She only had a couple of shots, but, then again, I always forget that humans can’t hold their liquor like I can.

I look at my dick for a second, finally deciding that it probably wants to go back into its home for a while.

God. How lonely do I sound? I’m talking about my cock like it’s a person or something...

I stand up, stumbling over to the window in my room. It’s cold over here – much to Little Dante’s annoyance – but I really don’t give a damn otherwise. Drawing the curtain aside, I notice that it’s snowing. It’s not too heavy right now, but it’s managed to pile up over the last few hours that it’s been falling.

I don’t know why, but for some reason, I just feel like shit whenever it’s snowing. I always think about...him. And I dream about...that time. That’s probably why I always hit the liquor so hard at this time of year. If I pass out, then I don’t dream. I never did get why it always happens around Christmas. I mean, it was spring when I had to go through that unholy tower. God...it’s been years since then.

My business has really kicked into gear since I started it up. Since that time. Lady was around for the first few years, but she eventually decided that there just weren’t enough demons around for two full time devil hunters. So, she moved halfway across the country, and she’s doing pretty well last I heard. It sounds crazy, but we really got to be good friends over time. She still calls me from time to time – it’s mostly business-related, but she does tell me what’s up in her life. Seems like she met a great guy over there, and even though they’re just dating, I can tell that she’s really in love with the dude. Basically, she says he’s handsome, he’s kind, he knows about demons, and he’s proficient in the handling and use of an AK-47.

I’d say that they’re a match made in Hell, but Lady’d probably kick my ass for that.

So anyway, that’s the backstory – of course, I’m leaving out the part where I tell her that I buy a cheap whore every Christmas so I can take my mind off of other shit I’d rather not think about...or dream about, for that matter. But Lady calls me less and less nowadays, anyway.

I’m pretty sure that my dick is starting to get frostbite, so I think it’s about time I headed downstairs. Despite the usual shit that I give people about not working holidays, I’m actually open all the time. Provided I’m not out on a mission or getting plastered – which, by the way, is really what I ought to be doing right now – I try to be around the shop as much as possible.

And no, I’m never just out grocery shopping. If it can’t be delivered in thirty minutes or less, I’m not eating it.

I turn and walk out of my room, pausing outside my door to tuck myself back in and zip my fly. There’s a draft in the main area, but I really don’t feel like throwing a shirt on. I’ll get used to the cold eventually.

I pad down the stairs, sitting in my favorite chair with a thump. I put my hands behind my head and prop my feet on the desk.

...yup. This is what I get to do for the next who-knows-how-many hours. I get to loaf around on my ass and wait for a call from some dipshit who probably won’t even have the password. I usually drift off at some point while I’m waiting, but that just doesn’t work during the damn snowfalls like this. If I don’t put at least another few shots in my system within the next hour, I’ll be up the whole night.

I’m just about to get up to grab myself some booze when the front door opens. At first, I think it’s just the whore coming back because she forgot something, but a much larger figure walks in. The person is covered from head to toe with a black cloak, and he moves like liquid, practically floating across the room towards me. I look behind him in disgust; he’s tracking snow into my shop, and damn it, I don’t want to be stepping in puddles later.

However...my eyebrow twitches as I notice something odd. He’s leaving...footprints. Not bootprints. Is this dude barefoot? Just what kind of crazy fucker is he?

Since he doesn’t seem to be too eager to start talking, I break the silence first.

“Need the can? It’s in the back.”
“That is not my objective,” he responds.

His voice kinda sounds weird. It’s deep, but raspy, like he has a cold or something. Or maybe he just hasn’t spoken in a long time. Considering what he just said to me, he sounds like the kind of guy who wouldn’t talk all that much.

“Oh? You here for a job then? Sorry, I don’t work holidays,” I shoot back sarcastically.
“You will tell me your name,” he says, the power in his voice startling me for a second.
“...Dante.”
“What is your objective, Dante?” he presses on.
“Hey, you took the words right out of my mouth,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “What’s it to you, anyway?”
“You have brought light into a dark world. I must know why.”

Okay...so that was kinda cryptic. This dude really must be a nutcase.

“So...you don’t know my line of work, then?” I ask him, but I don’t wait for a response. “In that case, you may as well leave. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”
“You will answer my question, human,” he insists.
“Human?” I say, exasperated. “Don’t make me laugh. There isn’t another ‘human’ like me out there. If you must know, I take on...special jobs. I’m your friendly neighborhood devil hunter. Minus the first two parts.”
“Why do you fight, devil hunter?” he continues.

I sit for a few seconds, pondering that. I know why I fight, but...I can’t say I’ve met a whole lot of people who understand the reason. Lady did, but that’s because her reason is nearly the same thing. Finally, fighting through the liquor for some coherency, I answer the question.

“For the past. Something was taken from me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get my revenge.”

Unless, of course, I die before that happens. But I usually leave that part out.

He’s quiet now. I can feel his unseen eyes on me, studying, scrutinizing...judging, even. The alcohol makes it difficult, but I reach out with my senses, feeling a surge of dark energy greet me in return. This guy is definitely not human. Still...he seems familiar somehow. I look over to the old, bloody glove on my desk. I never had the heart to move it all these years. Hell, when Lady tried to throw it away one year, I about ripped her to pieces. She never touched it again.

This guy...this man. He reminds me of Vergil, somehow. I don’t really like thinking about it, but it’s true. God, I could use that liquor right about now.

“I see,” he finally says softly. “You have proven yourself, Hunter Dante.”
“Huh?” I ask, confused.

He digs around inside of his cloak for a few seconds, and I tense, expecting a weapon to be aimed at me in a few moments. However, all he pulls out is a small object. It’s obscured by his hand, which is very odd looking in itself. The skin is nearly pure white, and the fingers are all delicate and bony – not at all like a man’s hand...or a human’s hand, for that matter.

He places the object down next to the glove. I can tell now that it’s a ring, thin and silver. I know I should feel weird getting a ring from a guy I don’t even know, but it doesn’t seem to matter right now. I guess that’s just the alcohol kicking in again.

“This...” he begins, indicating the ring. “Consider it a token of our meeting. It is all I have to give you, devil hunter. Take it and remember this night, for we shall meet again one day.”

Not wasting another moment, he turns and walks away. I blink in confusion at the exchange, and call out after him.

“You gonna tell me your name?”
“My name...” he starts, “...is unimportant.”
“Figures,” I respond, sighing lightly.
“Dante?”
“Yeah?”
“Merry Christmas...”

The door opens and closes, and then he is gone. I stare after him until he turns the corner and is out of my sight.

What just happened?

I mean, I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to be hallucinating shit like that. Besides, if I had been hallucinating, I wouldn’t be able to touch the ring – which I’m currently examining.

It’s plain...no markings, designs, or engravings. It looks to be new, but I doubt it’s even real silver. The light in my office glints off of the shiny surface. Slowly, I slip the ring onto my ring finger. It’s a little tight, but it fits – not that I would wear a ring from some creepy guy who walks barefoot in the snow just for the chance to talk to me for a few minutes. I quickly slip the ring off of my finger, giving it one last look before I set it down next to the glove again.

Standing up, I stride out to my kitchen and stare at the bottle of whiskey sitting atop the refrigerator. I take it down, but...somehow...I’m just not in the mood to get plastered.

Gently, I set the bottle back in its resting place, leaving the kitchen entirely. I stand in my main office for a few seconds, just...looking at everything. Demon skulls are pinned to the wall, my broken jukebox is sitting in the corner, and on my desk is a telephone, the glove, the ring, and a picture of my mother – one of the last pictures taken of her. I move over to my desk, reaching out and touching the frame lightly. My mother has a calm, happy smile on her face. She always did. Right up to the end.

I turn away, slowly climbing the stairs to my room.

***

I didn’t dream of my brother that night, or of our final battle before he abandoned me. No dreams of that day have come to me since I met that strange man, even when the snow falls.

That next Christmas, I turned down the woman’s offer of sex, and did so each year after until she finally stopped offering. Instead, I traveled across the country to go visit Lady and her new fiancé.

I brought them a bouquet of blue roses.

I’ve bought them every year since.


~End~ 1/28/06

_______________________

There you have it. I wrote that one all in one night, which is even weirder than when I wrote Lepcis Magna in two days... Anyway, I think I got Dante more in character with this than I have with anything else so far. Also, I honestly didn’t think I would write anything more onto the original story, but...it was snowing recently around my campus, and I guess that just triggered something in me.

Oh~! I forgot to mention...brownie points to anyone who can identify the chick that’s with Dante. She’s also in the first story. She’s not from the DMC universe, but she is from a videogame – and trust me, she’s relatively in character, too. XD