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Devil May Cry: Remnants	By : Radius Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 1604 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Devil May Cry game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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AN: Warning: there�s suicide content here, so beware.
;-)

***
Roark�s Day 1 � The Ball�s on His Court ***

�� The sky was painted bright blue by the time Roark
arrived in front of the Chicago Police Department building, a cigarette in
hand. The other hand, tucked smugly in his pant's pocket. Lean and tall, he
looked too young and well polished to be a Lieutenant serving the force. Specifically in the Criminal Investigation Unit. His glass
brown shoes were easily worth one thousand g's. Likewise, the dark gray suit he
wore. The crimson expensive shirt he had beneath it was worn loosely, exposing
his neck and a bit of collar bone. The wavy and thick black hair that mopped
over his head was slicked backed, fully revealing a youthful face. He was clean
shaven, right down to his skin's pores. Even his sideburns were evenly cut and
lined crisply to complement the length of his face. From a distant, he looked
like a suave man, too consumed by his ego to be taken seriously. His
cinder-colored eyes, however, revealed another story. Unfortunately, no one
would know that since dark sunglasses were always present, preventing any inner
secrets from getting out.
�� Roark gazed up at the tanned brown four-storied
building. Its simple Italian Gothic style structure stood firm, intimidating
bystanders. He looked at while longer before turning his attention to his watch,
a small smile soon forming in his lips. He took a long drag from his cigarette
before finally stubbing it out. Walking up the steps leading to wide double
doors Roark entered the building and was immediately greeted by the
receptionist.
�� Uh, good afternoon, Lieutenant Esperanza!� the man
behind the desk said. He smiled. However, there was a hint of anxiety in his
voice.
�� Roark approached the metal detectors left of the main
desk. There was another officer there, eyelids heavy with sleep. Roark pulled
out his glock pistol and any other metal objects he
had on him, giving them to officer.�
�� Afternoon, Hicks,� Roark answered evenly, passing
through the metal detector. �Rough night, eh? How're the kids?�
�� Oh, they're good. They�re finally leaving for
college.� Hicks yawned. �Thank Buddha. They�ve been pestering me lately for
tickets to see Liveshot next week. Know how much
those tickets cost? Hell, you can only get them on Ebay
these days.�
�� Roark shrugged. He never had an interest to today�s
popular music. Despite the city of Chicago
preparing for a major event, involving an appearance by a popular Goth band,
the Lieutenant could care less. He was more of a rhythm and blues fan, stuck in
era where music was really about the music.
�� See last night�s game, Max?� Roark decided to switch
the subject.
�� Yeah. Damn Lakers,� Max
replied bitterly and then paused.
�� Roark looked at him and half-way smiled. �So the
Chief wants to see me right now, huh?�
�� Max raised his eyebrows. �Y-yeah.
I mean, yes-yes, sir. How... did you know, sir?�
�� Roark shrugged. �Lucky guess.�
�� Lt Esperanza collected his things from Hicks, giving
him a nod before casually navigating his way to the hallway's elevators. Hands in pocket. When the elevator arrived and opened its
doors he clicked on the second floor button and waited. The moment the elevator's
doors opened again the scene before him was like an enactment of Judgment Day.
Everything was chaotic, filled with escalating voices and nonstop motion.
�� The level of noise and moving bodies was typical for
a Monday afternoon. Those scuffling through the busy hallways to get to their
destinations had to step aside as incoming officers arrived with arrested
civilians. Fresh off the street, every one of them was ready to talk up a
storm. Rookies quickly made their way out to the city, ready for patrol. Errand
boys worked up a sweat as they ran back and forth, delivering papers and
letters. Everything was just buzzing with life. On a flat screen television
screen pasted on a wall was Senator Logan, Chicago�s elected official, announcing a
fundraiser at the Chicago Dance Latin and Ballroom. Roark ignored it and headed
into the lounge area to his right, soon preparing a cup of coffee for himself.
It didn't take long for a colleague to storm in after him.
�� Geez, Roark,� a young man
with the complexion of ivory soap spat, �I bet you were late when coming outta your mother too. This is the fifth time you�ve
left me out to roast, man.�
�� He was as tall as Roark but possessed more upper body
strength, as indicated by his very broad shoulders. Still, the muscular
appearance seemed to clash with the rest of him. His brown suit was a bit
wrinkled and there were dark circles around his twinkling eyes, as if he had
just come from a hangover. There were small specks of freckles present,
creating a collage of neutral colors in his face. His dusty blond hair was
trimmed short, but seemed all over the place.
�� Nathan Peterson was usually a cheerful fellow and was
always ready for some after-hours time. But today he obviously woke up on the
bad side of the bed.
�� Sue me, Nate," Roark
finally replied and licked his lips. He took a sip of his coffee and made a
frown. "Tastes like shit. When is this hellhole ever getting a decent
coffee maker?�
�� Worry about your job than the coffee," Nathan
continued, "The Chief is fuming so much right now that smoke seems to be
coming outta his office. Get your act together or
I'll be ordering my next cheeseburger and fries from you next week.�
�� Why, I didn't know you cared,� Roark answered
mockingly.
�� I don't. But your attitude and behavior reflects off
of me too. The Chief thinks I might even be a part of the problem.� Nate stopped and sighed. �Honestly, man, this is your fifth
time being late. I don't think number six will be a lucky number for you very
soon.�
�� Ask me if I care." Roark rolled his eyes. Then
started heading out of the lounge with his cup of coffee. "Besides, I had
an important matter to attend to this morning.�
�� Like what?� Nate asked,
walking beside him.
�� Remember the broad at the club we saw last night?�
�� Nate's eyes widened and he
laughed. �You didn't��
�� Roark gave a devilish grin. �She wasn�t kidding about
being a former gymnast.�
�� Whoa�� Nate said,
thrilled. However, he frowned the moment he took a glimpse of a gold ring
wrapped around one of Roark's fingers.
�� Roark noticed the look. �Don't give me any of that infidelity
crap again, Nate. Sure, I know I've got a wife. And
yes, she's pregnant. Hell, I banged two other women and they're all still hassling me for child support. Whatever.
I got my own needs too. My own personal life.�
�� Roark took another sip of his coffee.
It was true. It
wouldn't be the first time he got a woman pregnant. Many of them demanded child
support. Lucky for him, however, they were all drug addicts. Prostitutes.
Call girls. He could deny the children were his
because it was their word against his. A cop's word. In
addition, because they've had so many sexual partners prior to him he could
easily dismiss himself. Even if blood tests confirmed him as the biological
father his connections to several doctors and judges would assure the courts otherwise.
It was a no-brainer who was the winner in this case scenario. He could have as
many women as he wanted and still get away with it. Who'd stop him anyway?
�� There was one thing that bothered him, though. If
women were nothing more than sexual play dolls for him, then why'd he marry Rosa? Rosa had five more
weeks left to her pregnancy but he had more than enough time to bail out. They
married, nonetheless, once she discovered the growing baby in her womb. He could've
thrown her to the wolves along with the others. She was just a stripper when
they met after all. It couldn't have been for convenience either. Rosa's former occupation, if leaked to the public, might
ruin his good public image. Then why? Was it
love?
�� Aren't you being a little... cold?� Nate asked quietly.
�� Maybe I am.� He shrugged. �But at least I�m honest. The
world could use more honest people. It wouldn't have so many Goddamn hypocrites
running around. Besides, this is my problem. Not yours.�
�� Whatever you say, Roark...�
�� The walk to the Chief's office was quiet the rest of
the way. When they finally arrived at the end of a hallway, they stopped in
front of a frosted covered glass door. The words 'Chief of Department Daniel
Roberts' were imprinted boldly. Even the strong lines and curves of the letters
appeared angry somehow. Roark removed his sunglasses while Nate
quickly moved to the side.
�� Good luck.� Nate smiled,
trying to stifle a chuckle.
�� Roark ignored him and instead, knocked on the door.
�� That'd better be Lt. Esperanza and not the mailman,�
a stern voice said from the other side.
�� Roark just rolled his eyes while Nate
covered his mouth, now more than ever wanting to laugh his ass off. Roark
opened the door and entered the Chief's office.

***

�� Glad you could finally join us, Lieutenant,� Chief
Roberts said calmly. �For a moment, I thought I'd have to call the morgue
people to see if they might've stumbled across your sorry ass body there.�
�� The Chief of Department was currently looking out the
window, back facing Lt. Esperanza. Even if he couldn't see his face, Roark knew
the Chief's current mood. A proud and stern black man who was once a first
class Sergeant in the Marine Corps, Chief Roberts was not a man to fuck with. He
might be pushing into his late 50's now, but his balls remained as cold as
ever. They could easily break off. Getting on his bad side meant hell for the
miserable bastard crazy enough to take him on. He was notorious for making
grown men cry, reduced to a blubbering mess. Even the other Districts were
scared of him. Rookie cops did their best to avoid being assigned to the 18th
District.
�� If not for his connections, Roark would be...
concerned. In fact, he tried many times to use those connections to reassign
Chief Roberts to another department or District. But even his contacts, men
from high places, said it wouldn't be possible until next year. Until then, he
had to hold out and avoid getting bitten by the hound from hell. Fucking
tenure...
�� I make no excuses,� Roark started, standing in front
of the Chief's desk. �I'll do whatever is necessary to make amends.�
�� The Chief was quiet. He didn't turn around. Yell.
Fling an object from his desk and smash the glass door like he did last time.
He was quiet. A little too quiet, in fact.
�� Roark waited for the Chief to say something but he
didn't. He just kept staring outside the window. His lean muscular arms,
concealed with a white striped shirt, were crossed behind him. The long band
holstering his out-dated pistol was the only visible thing Roark could see. It
too remained as still as a statue since the Chief didn't
budge even a centimeter. After what seemed like an eternity, Roark piped
up again. He tried his damn best to keep his voice even despite the tension
building.
�� Sir, I realize how frustrated you must be. This won't
happen again, I assure you.�
�� You like basketball?� Chief Roberts suddenly asked,
still staring outside the window.
�� Sir?�
�� What's the matter? You deaf?"
He spat. "I asked you if you liked basketball.�
�� Roark blinked. �Yes. I do.�
�� The Chief finally turned around. Reflections danced
all over his shiny bald head. His eyes were so large, they seemed like they
could see an object galaxies away. Roark fully understood how some of men had
wet their pants when they stared deep into them. He must've been a descendant
of the tyrannosaurus-rex to have eyes like those. That thick black moustache of
his didn't make him look any friendlier either.
�� Without another word, Chief Roberts went to his desk.
He took something as small as a grapefruit out from the bottom draw. It was
orange and round. A basketball.
�� I'm a big fan,� Chief Roberts said as he tossed the
small basketball from one hand and into the other. Then repeated this pattern
as the conversation resumed. �My son loves it too. He's been a basketball
player since Elementary school. This is his last year. He's a senior, you see.�
�� The Chief walked back towards the window and looked
out. Even though the conversation seemed very casual Roark knew better. In
fact, these were the kinds of talks that sent cops scurrying to a corner,
promising to never come out. One guy nearly shot the Chief out of fear.
�� His last game is next month,� Chief Roberts
continued calmly, �He's excited because many scouts have taken a liking to him.
Who knows, he might even make pro. But I already warned that son-of-a-bitch to
go to college first before taking the fast road. Education is top priority.�
�� The Chief looked back at Roark, noting the uneasiness
in his face. He stopped tossing the small basketball between his hands, for a
moment. Then decided to prop open the window. He leaned casually against the
window's sill, keeping his focus on the Lieutenant. He resumed tossing the ball
back and forth, from one hand to the next.
�� If you love basketball then you should know all
about the rules,� spoke the Chief. �You'd also know that basketball is a group
effort. When one player doesn't contribute it affects the team during crunch
time. So when that player screws up by acting like a Kobe Byrant,
he doesn't just hurt one individual. He hurts everyone around him too. Do you
understand?�
�� Roark nodded.
�� So then you know that any bullshit you say, about
you wanting to make amends to me, doesn't really matter, right?� Chief Roberts
gave Roark a stiff look. �I'm not that important. I'm just the coach barking
orders to you. But your team. They certainly are vital
to the game's success. They're the ones you should be kissing ass to. Don't you
think?�
�� Roark stood silent. The Chief carefully studied his
face. He waited a minute. Then, unexpectedly, he threw the small basketball out
the window. Nearly causing a car crash below.
�� The ball's in your court, son,� the older man said,
then commanded. �Now have a seat.�
�� He sat behind his desk and patiently waited for Roark
to comply. As Roark did, Chief Roberts opened his drawer and took out a folder.
�� How's your case coming along, Lieutenant?� Chief
Roberts asked without looking at him. Instead, scanning the
folder's contents.
�� Wonderful, Chief,� Roark answered, grateful for the
change of subject. �Lieutenant Peterson and I have just about wrapped it up. We
got solid evidence to connect the case to our suspect. All we need now is the
warrant for his arrest. Then we're done.�
�� That's good to hear. Because I
have a new case for you.�
�� Roark waited for more details.
�Even more
interesting,� the Chief continued, �It was an anonymous source that specifically
requested you take it.�
�� Sir?� Roark frowned.
�� Personally, I�ve always had trouble trusting
anonymous persons,� Chief Roberts resumed, ignoring the face Roark made. �You just
don't know if what they're saying is the truth or if they're actually the
responsible parties. This one also has the nerve to tell me who should take
this case. He could be a garbage collector for all I know. Still, I'll make an
exception to this one because it was the guys high up that shoved this case up
the department�s ass. I�ll never understand �em
sometimes.�
�� He seemed to notice something in one of the folder's
pages and took a moment to observe it.
�� I'm curious as to why this person asked for you
though,� he murmured with a frown. �There's nothing special about you. You're
not even a descent criminal investigator.�
�� Roark narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
�� Perhaps you can answer that question someday.� The
Chief looked up from the folder, staring at him in silence. After another
decade, he finally closed the folder and handed to Roark. �I got to warn you,
it's a rather unusual case. Normally, I'd have Sergeant Reese take this
since he's into this kind of thing. But he's busy cracking down another nut
job.�
�� Roark frowned. Frankie?
�� Look over it when you have the chance.� The Chief
sat back. �That'll be all, Lieutenant.�
�� Chief Roberts turned his oversized leather seat
around to face the window. Roark stood up, tucking the folder under his arm
with a puzzled look.
�� Strange, if this is a case Sgt. Reese would normally
take then it must be one of those weird, freaky ones. Why give it him? He's
never been into this sort of thing. Who's bright idea
was it to tag him along? It's not like he's an expert. Still, how weird can
this case be if it was delivered specifically to him?
�� As Roark was about to exit the office, Chief Roberts
called out to him one last time.
�� Lieutenant,� he began softly, still sitting in his
cushy leather seat and looking out the window. �That was my favorite basketball
I just threw out. When I said the ball was in your court I literally meant it.
You have 'til four o' clock to get my ball back here. Otherwise, collect your
things.�
�� For a second, Roark thought it was a joke. But the
Chief was dead serious.

***
Suburbs ***

�� It was eight in the evening and a family of four was
gathered around a table eating dinner. The moon�s eye peered silently though a
window. A television filled the air with its incoherent sound, currently on a
family-oriented channel. Two young boys were currently engaged in a sibling
battle, flinging bundles of green peas at each other. It quickly garnered a
reaction from their mother. As she scolded them her husband looked at his plate
in silence.
He was a mature man,
pushing into his late fifties with gray white hair and sporting strong features
despite his age. Around the dining room were pictures and medals from his time
in the Army service, including a purple heart. His clear hazel eyes continued
gazing at the plate in front of him.
�� I mean it,� the mother said to her children, �If you
don�t stop this I�m sending both of you to bed, with no cake.�
�� But mom-!� one of them started.
�� Not another word. Eat your food.�
�� The two boys sighed and rolled their eyes, eventually
picking at their food instead of eating it. There was another scold from their
mother who soon turned to her husband for backup.
�� Eric, tell your sons to eat their food,� she told
him. �I�m getting tired of this.�
�� He slowly looked up from his plate. For a long time,
he didn�t say anything and there was a blank look on his face. Before his wife
could open her mouth, he smiled.
�� It was a wonderful day today, wasn�t it?� he said
calmly. �It was sunny outside.�
�� His wife frowned. �Honey?
Oh. Yes. I guess it was.�
�� It never occurred to me before. I never really took
it all in. But I guess that�s what happens when you can�t see everything so
clearly.�
�� The two young boys studied their father quizzically
for a moment.
�� Mom, can I have dessert now?� one
whined, �I already ate my food.�
�� No, you didn�t. You haven�t even touched your
meatloaf.�
�� But mom, I don�t want it anymore. I�m full. Honest.�
�� Yeah. Right,� she replied. Unconvinced. �Fine. No dessert for
you then.�
�� But mom-!�
�� Isn�t it funny,� the father began again, �that we
live our lives so meaninglessly, without any knowledge of where it�s going to
lead?�
�� His wife paused. �Honey, are you okay? You sound�
funny.�
�� He laughed. �Why wouldn�t I be? I feel wonderful. In fact� I�ve never been better.�
�� Mom,� the second son added in a high-pitched voice,
�Jason is hitting me.�
�� Am not!�
�� Are too!�
�� That�s enough,� the mother commanded. �I�m not going
to tell you again.�
�� We live such trivial lives�� continued the father.
�� Never comprehending our own importance or existence.
Or how great our contribution to the universe really is.�
�� Eric� Are you sure you�re okay? You sound weird.�
�� Eric,� the husband said carefully, his hazel
eyes penetrating the food again. �That name� it has no meaning to me. I have no
name.�
�� His wife was now silent, even his two sons stopped
bickering. Their father slowly pushed away from his table, standing up.
�� Where are you going?� his wife asked.
�� I�ve got to take out the trash.� He smiled. �Dinner
was great, by the way.�
�� He planted a kiss on his wife�s cheek before walking
down the hallway across the dining room with his plate. The remaining three
occupants continued eating.
�� How was school, Travis?� the mother asked her
children.
�� It was okay.� He shrugged.
�� And you, Jason?�
�� Boring. Like
always.�
�� Shortly later, Eric returned to the hallway with a
trash bag in his hand. The three heard him go outside, the sound of his boots
clanked softly against the wooden floor. He started to whistle a merry tune
that soon faded away as a door opened and closed.
�� How did you do in your math test, by the way?� she
addressed Jason, soon chewing on some of her meatloaf.
�� Dunno. Teacher still
hasn�t told us.�
�� Well, tell me what you got when she tells you your
grade. I want to know if that tutor of yours is worth the money.�
�� I don�t like him. He smells bad.�
�� Just because he smells bad doesn�t make him a bad
person.�
�� My gym teacher smells bad,� Travis added and
giggled. �He smells like armpits.�
�� Travis, we�re eating,� his mother replied sternly.
Moments passed and
Eric walked down the hallway again. He was still whistling merrily. His feet
echoed with a muffled sound as they ascended upstairs.
�Hey, mom,� Travis
started, �Benny invited me to his birthday party this weekend. Can I go? Huh?
Can I? Everyone�s going to be there.�
�We�ll see.�
�But mom-�
�No buts, Travis. I�ve
heard of enough buts to last me a lifetime. You�re still being punished
for last week�s incident in case you forgot.�
�But dad forgave me
already.�
�No, he didn�t. Now
finish your meal. I�ll think about it.�
�But mom��
�I already told you
what I thought about those buts.�
Travis slouched in his
chair when he saw his efforts were meaningless. He sighed and subsided with a
big pout on his face, hoping for one last shot. His mother pretended not to
notice and kept eating. Meanwhile, Eric passed the hallway again. His wife
looked up from her plate and blinked at the object in his hands now.
�Eric,� his wife
called to him and laughed. �Where are you going with that thing?�
He grinned and tapped
the head of a shotgun on his shoulder. �Honey, I already told you. I don�t have
a name. Now go finish your dinner. This will only take a second.�
His wife frowned but he
continued walking down the hallway. A door to the house�s basement opened and
closed quietly. His wife and their two children continued eating. Only the
sound of the television was heard. After finishing the meatloaf the mother
lifted up her glass of water to take a sip of it. The glass shattered on the
floor immediately, however, after the house shook with a loud bang.
It came from the
basement.
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Devil May Cry: Remnants