The fluorescent light above the pharmacy flickered weakly, buzzing like a dying insect. Beatrice stood at the counter, hood drawn low over her face. The clerk, an older man with heavy bags beneath his eyes, didn’t ask questions. In this part of town, people rarely did.
"One box of Somnacil." She murmured, sliding a few folded bills across the counter. The man nodded, his movements slow, mechanical like most minium wage bums, his body and mind works on autopilot praying that the day or his night shift goes by quick. He placed the small white box in a paper bag, sealed it, and pushed it back toward her.
"Rough night again?" Another woman who was sleeping the floor behind her ask. Her tone more habit that care.
Beatrice forced a faint smile. "You could say that.... Anyways guy, thanks for the pills, I am going home." Read full story at novel·fire·net
Outside, the air was thick with smog and the sour scent of iron. Streetlights cast their pale yellow glow across cracked pavement and rusted railings. She clutched the bag close to her chest as she walked, her boots echoing softly against the empty street.
It was late, she would have bought this - this morning, but she had to go back to council to fill up some necessary paperwork for her upcoming initiation.
So she came here in the night. It was safe to say that it was too late for anyone sane to be wandering these alleys. Yet this was her world now; a collection of flickering lights, dead ends, and the hum of distant violence. Somewhere beyond the mist, a woman screamed. Somewhere else, a bottle shattered. Beatrice didn’t even flinch, you get used to stuff after constant exposure.
Her path wound through the industrial edge of the slums, past walls plastered with peeling propaganda and Spirit recruitment posters. "Join the Spirit Council, Serve the Eternal Flame." She scoffed quietly. "Serve it, huh... The only reason I am even joining these guys, is due to the benefit they offer."
She said to herself as she turned down a narrow passage until she reached an iron gate half-covered in ivy. Behind it stood her hideout, a forgotten storage unit she had repurposed into something that almost resembled a home. The air was cool inside, tinted with the faint smell of dust and old metal.
Her fingers brushed the invisible shimmer of the barrier her aunt had woven around the place. A faint warmth answered her touch. "Still holding strong, Auntie... thank you." Beatrice said, relief it was still working even after being set for a Month, the Spirit Stone she used the empower it was still functional, however it won’t be long before the energy is all but used, still though the barrier recognize her, and instantly a flash of blue light went off as she was teleported directly inside her home.
Before her was her counter, and she set the bag down on it, and stripped off her jacket, and headed for the small shower tucked in the corner. The water sputtered, then flowed, lukewarm, erratic...but enough.
She stood there, motionless, as the water coursed down her body, tracing over the tattoos along her arms and back, thigh as it continued down her leg.
For about another five minutes she stayed in there, before coming out, and when she did, she went to her mirror, and the steam fogged the cracked mirror in front of her.
For a fleeting second, she saw her reflection, pale, exhausted, eyes dulled by a week of sleepless terror. Her purple hair clung to her cheeks. Blue lipstick, smudged and faint, framed the quiet curve of her lips. She looked more like a ghost than a woman.
Still her pride will not allow her to give up.
As cruel as D is when she enter that’s space.
Without him, she would not have this chance, as such she didn’t want disappoint.
"Sign let’s get read for bed." Beatrice said to herself, as she dry herself off, and went towards her room, there a small queen size mattress with a blue sheet over it cover and hide the exposed springs coming out of it.
But even then she put her towel on the door, and head to the counter, there was small pouches of pills. As such she swallow down one of them, before going to her small refrigerator, and taking a cold can of half drink beer before gulping it down.
In the next instance she tossed the empty can in her disposable garbage bag near the door of her storage. With that he she began to walk back to her mattress, cutting the lights off on her way to bed, and she lie down.
"Day eight, today is that day I beat that fucker." She said to herself, determine to finally complete the toturial and move on to the next stage of the dream world. And quickly after she began to feel the pills effect, as drowsiness take her, and before she even knew it. She fell asleep naked on her old mattress.
The hiss of cold air filled the chamber again.
Her breath fogged against the inside of the cryo glass before it cracked open with a low hydraulic moan.
The frost bled off her skin in rivulets, steam and ice mixing as she stumbled forward onto the steel floor.
Barefoot at that, as she awake from involuntary cryo-sleep, and fully aware.
"...Attempt eight." She muttered, her voice hoarse, almost drowned by the hiss of pressurized steam. "Let’s see how fast I die this time... Still I am confident I can take that annoy four arm bastard."
She said to herself, then a familiar voice echoed in her head
"Good morning, Beatrice." The voice that greeted her, and it fill her with both excitement and terror.
As she responded back to it with. "Good morning D!" She said calmly, and D responded back with a question. "Are you ready for another playthrough!?"
Dante asked Beatrice who was trembling, not from the cold but from fear, but she steeled herself and said, with a determine look. "Today’s the day I beat the toturial."
"Haha or die trying." Dante jokingly said to which Beatrice reply to his negative comment with. "You are so mean sometimes."