Steamgirl @madi3sterling - Tumblr Blog

Tears In True Forms

Warnings/tags: side story to the ending continuation of Ch. 8 part 3 (A Great Sense Of Rumor), angst, Plasma’s vulnerability, complicated demon bonds in relation to jealousy and possessive tendencies, friends to one-sided unrequited love, Riley’s hypervigilance to her ptsd, Rysma (Riley x Plasma) pairing, heartbroken Plasma, Plasma failing to express his feelings about Riley

Author's note: Yesterday and today were sad days for me. Peter Gundry’s album Don’t Wake Me Just Yet helped carry this into writing, it’s gonna hurt, but I promise it’ll be better. This’ll just be character growth on both sides.

The adrenaline from the mini-concert was still humming under Riley’s skin as she kicked off her boots. Dante was already in the kitchen, recounting the night’s best riffs, but the sharp ping from her phone cut through the chatter. She pulled it from her pocket, the screen’s harsh glow illuminating her face in the darkened hallway.

"Meet me by the water tower. Now. Make sure the camera and earpiece is off. We need to talk."

The message was brief, stripped of the usual emojis or casual warmth, but she alone knew who this was. Outside, the world was silent and draped in the ink of 2:00 AM. She looked at Dante, who was laughing and oblivious, then back at the glowing screen. The water tower stood like a rusted sentry at the edge of town—an isolated, private place, perfect location to unleash her emotions from prying eyes.

She thought about heading out, but then, a mental image of the White Rabbit stopped her cold. His voice echoed in her mind: Venturing out after midnight is too risky, especially for you. DARKOM has been vigilant and they have long teeth, my dear. It’s the only rule I ask you to keep. He was talking about the eyes. For several days, she’d felt them during the late nights, even now, through the thin glass of the apartment studio.

It was a boundary he had established to protect her, a rule she usually respected, but tonight, she had felt her chest tighten with the tension of her defiance.

She glanced at the door, then back at the phone, caught between Plasma’s urgent request and the suffocating pressure of the White Rabbit’s rule. Plasma’s "now" seemed to demand immediate compliance, but the thought of the White Rabbit’s disappointment—or anger—was a heavier weight than the midnight air. Swallowing her guilt, she turned to Dante. “Hey, going out to the gym, I hear their showers work. I’ll be back.” She leaves the apartment from Dante’s bedroom window and stepped out into the night air.

She felt it again. A cold chill traced down her spine, a silent warning that she was not truly alone, even with other demons about. That phantom presence—a lingering, dark sensation at the edge of her vision—made the thought of roof hopping feel like entering a trap.

"It's just the wind," she whispered, trying to convince herself that maybe she was overreacting, that she was safe within her routine. But the shadows in the night seemed to shift, and the fear that she was being hunted in her own environment was too real.

Her heart, which had just begun to settle from the loud music, kicked back into a frantic, uneven rhythm.

The moon was a sharp, uncaring shard of white in a navy-black sky, casting the city below in high-contrast silver and deep charcoal. Riley, barely five feet tall, didn't run across the shingles; she moved with a calculated, silent velocity, her boots making no sound on the aged terracotta. Her compact form allowed her to dodge under clotheslines and squeeze between brick chimneys, her silhouette a fleeting shadow against the backdrop of glittering city lights.

Her adrenaline surged, tightening her muscles with every leap across the dark alley gaps. Her small stature, often a handicap, was currently an advantage that also included her telekinetic levitation abilities, letting her pivot and vault with unnatural speed. She finally reached the edge of the highest rooftop, overlooking a beat up—mangled water tower.

Below, lounging against a beam, was a shifting figure, blue as a bruised night sky and constantly drifting between human and something far more chaotic.

Riley didn’t land with grace; she landed with purpose, bringing a sharp heel down on the slate to break the silence.

A low, sub-audible hum—like a power line straining under too much voltage—pushed outward from her chest, making the hairs or scales of demon arms stand up.

“You fucking jackass," she growled, marching towards him with impending doom, her hands balled into fists, ready to rip into the shapeshifter. The surrounding lights flickered dangerously, and the loose gravel at her boots jittered and drifted, defying gravity as her fury took physical form.

Riley cranes her neck to glare at Plasma, whose towering, midnight-blue form shifted uneasily as his shoulders touched near his jawline.

"You ruined my mission," Riley snapped, her boots echoing as she stomped toward him across the concrete. Her short, wavy silver hair was plastered to her forehead, and her violet blues eyes burned with an intensity that made the shadows cling closer to the walls. "I was this close. I had things under control, I specifically said, NOT to interfere. And what did you do? You yeeted a fucking tanker truck into a diner and attacked Dante!" She forced a laugh. “Does the White Rabbit know you’re here?”

Plasma winced, his azure skin rippling as he nervously adjusted his stance. "No—I came here in my own, hopefully to explain."

"Explain!? Seriously!? After the shit you pulled, I don’t think I want to hear it!” She jabs a finger squarely into the center of his chest. It felt like poking a cushion of dense, living muscle. She was practically vibrating with adrenaline, her chest heaving as she prepared to list every single violation he had committed. "You made this way more difficult than it needs to be! Dante’s paranoid now because of you!!"

Plasma stood his ground, his form shifting lazily—skin flickering from human to violet-hued demon—reflecting the mental exhaustion of maintaining a solid shape. “I understand,” Plasma sighed, a low rumble that vibrated through the concrete. "Here…I managed to grab him before I left." He looked down, his predatory red eye momentarily soft.

In his hands, he wasn't holding a weapon, or a portal key, or a contract.

He was holding Chessy.

It was her beloved, raggedy stuffed kitty plush, the one she’d left back with the White Rabbit less than two days ago. Plasma was clutching it with awkward care, its worn, velvet ear tucked neatly between his clawed fingers, looking absurdly out of place against his demonic form. “I know…you had a nightmare about Arlo, and I thought this might bring you some comfort."

Riley froze mid-breath. Her mouth opened to deliver another scathing retort, but the words died in her throat. Looking upon it short-circuited her anger like water dumped on a grease fire.

"I know I messed up, Ry," Plasma said, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “But please, let me explain…”He held the stuffed animal out like a flag of truce, his gaze pleading.

Riley stopped dead, her fury vanishing faster than one of his illusions. Her breath hitched. The rage that had powered her march across the city instantly evaporated, replaced by a sudden, jarring wave of tenderness that she was entirely unprepared for.

She looked at the stuffed kitty plush, its button eye scratched, and then at the shapeshifter holding it as if it were the most precious, fragile thing in the world.

She didn't know whether to scream or laugh. Instead, she took a shaky step forward, her hand loosening to take Chessy back, her heart still hammering, but now, only from shock.

"I’m listening," she muttered, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper as she buried her nose into the plush's soft, frayed ear to hide her softening expression. "Talk..." She looked up at him, her gaze still fierce, though the deadly edge had temporarily vanished.

The shapeshifter flickered, a calm, iridescent blue humanoid man turning toward her with a soft, guilty expression. “Riley, my dearest friend…” he began, his expression fading as she approached closer, her violet blues radiating a coldness that defied her size. The summer air became ice cold, tense and almost physical, vibrating with the intensity of Riley’s fury, causing the Shapeshifter’s blue skin to ripple like water. Plasma, usually a chaotic force of terror, finds itself intimidated by the focused, intellectual rage of a Devil girl, viewing her focus as a deadly, sharpened energy.

Standing at barely five feet, her chin barely reaching the sternum of his humanoid form, yet she held the aura of a cornered tigress.

Plasma was currently shifting, trying to find a form that didn't scream demon, his skin undulating between blue, electric skin and something more human, his red eye glowing with remnant hellfire.

"Go on.” Her voice was terrifyingly level, devoid of the shouting or frantic panic he had expected. It was a cold, calm fury, sharper than any blade.

He paused, a dark rueful smile trying to crack a still-shifting face. "It started with your nightmare. The White Rabbit advised me not to interfere, I understood that, but I heard it," he rumbled, his voice a low, vibrating purr that tasted like ash and cedar. He knelt down to gaze to her, his long fingers flexed, the skin briefly blurring and stretching into something far less demon before he forced the flesh back into a gentle shape. "I heard that sharp, breathless cry you made in your sleep. I was there, watching you from afar.”

“I—it was Vaysl again. He used my brother’s screams and attacked me.”

“Vaysl,” His throat tightened, a low growl of pure, archaic frustration rumbling from his chest. "It was... a desecration. It clawed at the edges of my mind until my blood boiled. Every instinct I possessed demanded that I tear through the veil of your mind and rip that bastard to shreds." He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “When you screamed in the dark, my heart fractured. It killed me to stand by and observe that traitorous spawn touch you…”

Traitorous spawn?

Plasma’s voice rumbled like grinding stone, vibrating straight into her chest. "Dante was already touching you. He was tending to your cuts, comforting you, trying to soothe your terror." He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you know what that did to me? I wanted to tear him apart simply for breathing the same air as you. This jealousy isn't just a flaw in my nature; it's a violent, burning possessiveness woven into my soul. You are mine to protect, mine to comfort.”

The softness in Riley’s eyes evaporated, replaced by something cold and brittle. The gentle features vanished as her jaw locked, the skin pulling taut over sharp, defined cheekbones. Her brow furrowed slightly, etching a harsh line of defiance between her eyes.

“Seeing a man like Dante dare to offer you solace made my blood burn, whispering that perhaps I had failed you.” He reached out, his long, fingers tracing a clinical line down her jaw but she stiffened. “I'm sorry I interfered. But I'm not sorry I did it.”

“Excuse you? Not sorry?" She stood on her tiptoes, stabbing a finger into the center of his chest—or at least as high as she could reach. “That’s possibly the most stupidest shit you’ve ever said!”

She stopped, looking up at him with eyes flashing. “You knew I was there and you still sent an overweight rolling pipe bomb at a Diner with innocent people inside. Did it ever occurred that you could’ve killed me?”

Plasma’s expression remained soft and apologetic. He looked down at her small stature, his form slightly shifting—a subtle ripple of scales and shadows beneath his skin—before settling back into a gentle, human-like appearance. “You weren’t in any real danger.” He said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against the pavement. He tilted his head, watching her flush with anger. "I need you to understand, I knew exactly where you were standing when I hurled that tanker truck. I saw you right in its path."

She flinched, but he reached out, a massive, clawed hand hovering just inches from her shoulder, offering warmth without forcing contact. His eye locked onto hers with absolute certainty. "I knew Sparda’s son was right beside you. A hybrid like him possessed reflexes faster than human comprehension. I trusted his strength, and I knew without a shred of doubt that he would protect you. I would never have thrown it if I thought he would fail. But I needed his attention.”

“His attention…? Are you that fucking insecure?" Riley didn’t yell, but the quiet, vibrating intensity of her voice made the air feel ice cold. She stood rigid, her knuckles white where her fingers curled into her palms. The usual warmth she felt for her Plasma had been entirely eclipsed by a sharp, burning hurt.

She took a sharp breath, her looking over her shoulder towards the studio apartment where Dante slept. He was simply taking care of her—exactly the tool Plasma had just used.

"I can't believe fucking believe this," Riley stepped closer to Plasma, the cerulean hue of his skin now tainted with a sudden, unreadable shadow. "We’ve been through a lot together. But the second I’m with him, you completely change. You needed to puff your chest out. You needed his attention just to put on this pathetic, performative display of possessive dominance over me."

She laughed, a jagged, humorless sound that felt more like a sob catching in her throat. She forced herself to look at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Do you really view me as property to guard, or is your own ego so bruised that you had to use a Demon Hunter to remind me who you think owns me?" Riley threw her hands up, the cutting motion slicing through the heavy tension.

Plasma’s lean, muscular frame began to shudder, his cerulean skin rippling like a disturbed lake. “I—I know it wasn’t right! I wasn’t seeing clearly! I’m a demon! We don't do 'healthy boundaries' well when we're threatened. I just… I can’t compete with a demon hunter who kills things like me for a living. He doesn't know you, not like I—we do. When I saw him leaning over you, I didn't see a friend comforting a friend. I saw a predator moving in on my... on the only being I care about.”

“According to demons like you, everything’s a fucking predator isn’t it?” Her words bit deep, and she saw his blue skin flicker, a brief ripple of scales manifesting at his jawline before he smoothed them away. “Do you want to know what this Diner actually meant to me..." She started, her voice barely a whisper, not turning to look at him. "To you, this is just a dump. A place filled with wood and metal."

She finally turned, her eyes looking up at him, shimmering with tears she was desperately trying to hold back. She ran her fingers across the side of her temple. "It was the only place that reminded me of Arlo..." Her lower lip trembled, and she clamped her teeth down hard, forcing the stinging moisture away before a single drop could betray her.

"Back home in my world, he loved mint sundaes. We used to come and sit at the bar, and when I closed my eyes, I could almost hear him laughing, nagging me that his sundae was better than mine. It was the only place that felt like home, the one place I was able to feel him by my side, and you destroyed it. I just wanted to remember him, and now I have nothing."

Riley looked up, her eyes wet and fierce with a desperate, shattered love that made her seem smaller than ever. "You think you're protecting me from Dante, but you just hurt me."

"Riley," he rasped. The sound was deep, vibrating in his chest, a harsh contrast to her quiet breath. He took a half-shuffle forward, his towering shadow falling over her, but he stopped when she flinched. The rejection stung worse than the transformation sickness. His form rippled violently—a flash of scales, a ridge of bone along his spine—before settling back into his preferred, tall humanoid shape. He hated his height in this moment; it made him feel like a monster looming over a victim. “I—I didn’t know how much this meant to you,” he whispered, the blue across his cheekbones darkening to a somber, midnight hue.

"I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice cracking into a discordant layer of multiple pitches before settling back into a raw, vulnerable trills.

He looked at his massive, trembling hands. They were built to adapt, to mimic, to survive anything. But they were entirely useless for fixing the microscopic, agonizing fractures he had just put in her heart. He was an apex shapeshifter demon, completely powerless against the weight of his own guilt. He desperately wanted to shrink down, to change into something soft and harmless, but his power was knotted tight by panic.

The guilt was a physical weight, pressing him to his knees until he was closer to her eye level, his head bowed in absolute shame. He had wanted to protect her from the world, but in a single moment of blind jealousy, he had become the very monster she needed protection from. "I can fix this," he said, using a halting, hesitant finger to lift her chin. “If you let me, I can—“

“No, stop…just stop,” she whispered, her voice cracking. She wrapped her arms around her ribs, trying to make herself even smaller. Riley appeared minuscule standing in the shadow of his towering, blue-skinned form, but the hurt vibrating off her was monumental.

As the hurt settled in, the rims of her eyes stained dark. The blackness rushed inward like a dying star, consuming the white until her eyes were hollow wells of pure, wounded fury. "What was it you said? Apparently I’m yours to protect, yours to comfort. You say you care about me. But you don’t. This is control Plasma," she whispered, her voice dangerously devoid of its usual warmth.

“It’s the SAME damn thing that Vaysl does and it fucking hurts—it hurts so much that the fact that you think you need to mark your territory with Dante’s eyes on me...it makes me sick. She hissed, the words catching in her dry, aching throat. She blinked rapidly, forcing her blurred vision to clear.

“You look at me and see me as a fragile little girl.” Her voice breaks slightly, but she steels herself. She let her arms drop, stepping back to put physical distance between them, retreating into her flight instinct to escape the suffocating weight of his gaze. She swallows the sob that threatened to spill, her voice cracking slightly.

The Devil Prince of Beelzebub’s name hung in the air like poison. Plasma flinched as if physically struck. The very idea that he could be equated to that disgusting, cruel Devil who had scarred her body and soul seemed to physically pull the breath from his lungs. He could feel his internal anatomy twisting, the bones in his hands shifting and elongating beneath his skin in a manifestation of his rising panic, but he forced himself to stay still. Plasma wanted to hold her face in his trembling hands, but he held himself back to respect her space. “You are fragile, Riley. Compared to demons like us. To me, I will be your shield.” His blue form dimmed slightly, his voice low. He reached out, his hand shifting into a more human form, yet still cold. “Tell me what to do. Please Riley, I—“

“No!” Riley wrenched herself backward, putting a desperate distance between them. Her hand hovering as a low, vibrational hum rippled from her fingertips as her telekinetic powers stirred.

He froze, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I don't need you to protect me Plasma. I can handle the harm. I can handle the fall. I just... I can’t handle being seen as helpless by a friend who is supposed to know me best.” Her eyes burned, brimming with tears that made her vision blur.

Plasma stood frozen, his blue form flickering in panic. “Riley, I’m s—!”

She stepped back, out of his reach. For an agonizing second, the darkness from her demon eyes faded, washing out into a bruised violet-blue. Then, the dam broke. The anger that had fueled her suddenly evaporated, leaving her hollowed out and shivering. Her chest heaved. For a second, she held her breath, fighting the inevitable, until a heavy tear crested over her eyelashes and broke, tracing a hot, wet path down her cheek. Then another followed, blinding her.

The air between them fractured with the weight of her rejection. As she turned to leave, her words—sharp, cold, and final—cut deeper than any blade: “I need you to go home. Don’t follow me.”

A ragged breath hitched in her chest as she stared down at the Cheshire Cat doll in her arms. She jammed the plastic clip toward her belt, her peripheral vision blurred by her tears she refused to wipe away. It took three agonizing, uncoordinated tries before the clip engaged. The contrast—a soft, threadbare stuffed cat hanging from a hardened Devil girl’s hip—anchored her as she leaves Plasma alone.

As Riley walked away without a backward glance, the shapeshifter demon’s composure tore open. He didn't roar; he disintegrated. His silhouette stretched and thinned, flickering between a man and a demon, a desperate storm of cobalt energy trying to find a shape that didn't ache. Plasma’s towering, azure-scaled frame shuddered as he pressed his claws into the cold ground.

“Riley,” He watched her fade into the darkness, completely beyond earshot. A jagged tear carved a burning path down his cheek.

"I love you..." he croaked, the desperate confession tearing from his throat like grinding stone. His demonic nature warred with his agony. He had done the unthinkable—unleashing his jealousy and possessive rage that possibly irrevocably destroyed their bond together. He sank to his knees, his head bowed. The words hung heavy and hollow in the empty air, meant only for the silvery haired girl who would never know the truth…..

#riley pierce oc #dmc #oc #madi3sterling oc riley pierce #dmc netflix #sad dmc side story #Rysma (Riley x Plasma) DmC self ship #omfg I hate myself #Tears In True Forms DmC side short story #Riley and Plasma’s argument #Events right after the ending of Ch. 8 part 3 (A Great Sense Of Rumor)#poor Plasma my heart hurts for him! 🥺😭#I promise their relationship isn’t over Rysma shippers it’ll get better!

Riley Pierce And The White Rabbit

The Screech of Death

Warnings: Side story based upon the perspective on DmC, White Rabbit and Plasma/Rudra & Agni during Ch. 8 parts A Great Sense Of Humor 1 & 2, Riley’s footage of her day, Ogre brothers placing bets on Riley, threats against Agni, light swearing, violence, Agni humorously cutting the tension, WRabbit’s lackeys reacting to Enzo verbally harassing Riley, severe audio feedback for both sides, Agni keeps screwing up, unhappy Bunnyman, humorous moments

Authors note: White Rabbit Demon’s hearing was not permanently damaged during the making of this.

The cool, sterile air of the control room washed over White Rabbit’s lackeys as they pushed through the heavy, soundproofed door. Inside, a soft, consistent hum filled the space, a white noise generated by the labyrinth of equipment that lined the walls. The only illumination came from the soft, multicolored glow of dozens of monitors, casting long, dancing shadows across the control panels and the faces of the demons.

Seated at a semi-circular console was Plasma, as he watched over the surveillance cameras. His fingers danced across a specialized keypad with practiced ease, navigating through camera feeds with a series of quick, silent commands. Rudra, leaning against the wall behind him, was absorbed in the minutiae of an event log, the soft light of the tablet reflecting from his eyes while Agni observed nearby.

“Oi,” Agni butts in, breaking the silence. “It’s strangely quiet without our lil ankle biter.”

“It was quiet before she arrived,” Plasma moved towards the main console, the soles of his feet making no sound on the anti-static flooring. “She’ll be back soon.” The room was a hub of silent, focused energy, a place where the world outside was reduced to pixels and data points, all under the quiet, unwavering eye of the control room.

“Afternoon, Gentlemen.” White Rabbit enters the room as the three bow their heads. Plasma made himself scarce as the Rabbit demon reclaimed his seat. The air hummed with the static of a dozen monitors. It was a cavern of light and shadow. Banks of screens displayed a fragmented reality: static views of hallways, close-ups of the Makaian refugees, and an unsettling, thermal-imaging feed of the lab and the medical room.

Data streams and timelines scrolled endlessly, a silent testament to the constant surveillance managed within these four walls. The air smelled faintly of ozone and tinted copper. “They’re on the road.”

“What’s that there?” Rudra spoke up, pointing a clawed finger at one screen.

The four peered closer. A jarring jolt sent the camera into a Dutch tilt before it settled against someone’s knees, the wide-angle view now showing nothing but the tight grain of nylon and the blurry carpet inches away.

The White Rabbit tilted his head to one side. “Riley. She must’ve forgotten to remove her spy camera.” He presses a single key to communicate through Riley’s earpiece. “Riley, my sweet? Can you hear me?”

The camera lens remained still and unmoving.

“Is she ignoring you?”

“No, it must be disconnected. Silly girl forgot to remove her equipment before we left.” He hooked his ankle over his knee and leaned back. “Nothing I can do about it. I have my utter and complete trust in her ability to handle this.”

Agni snorted, a silent laugh that barely moved his shoulders. “Over the amulet sure, but I’m not confident about the bloke next to her.” He whispers to his brother Rudra.

Rudra raises his eyebrows. “What are you suggesting then?”

“A bet, brother. Twenty coins says she kills the Sapien bastard before he drops her off with the son of Sparda," Agni muttered, leaning back against the wall and eyeing the screen.

"Make it thirty," his brother, Rudra, countered, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he took a slow sip of his water. "She was instructed not to kill him, but we’ll wait and see. It shouldn’t take long."

Agni shrugged, pulling a pouch of hefty coins from his pocket. "You’re on. Let’s enjoy the show shall we?"

“Hey, so um…I notice you’re not much of a talker. Do people ever mistake you for a kid? You look so young because you're... tiny. I’m guessing you’re what—? Eleven?”

Plasma, Rudra and White Rabbit gave slight, involuntary grimaces, Rudra’s quick flinch of his shoulders indicating his distaste for the remark. “Ooof…That was audacious of him to assume that.”

Both Rabbit and Plasma caught a glitch in the matrix as faint shadows trail over the micro camera.

“Did you see that sir?” Plasma pointed to the screen where it pulsed with horizontal scan lines. “Could that be part of Riley’s abilities?”

“Hm...” He leans in closer, to hear an auditory whine. “Perhaps, I’d need to question her about it later.”

The camera captures the sharp angle of her elbow. She pulls out a silver, scratched device—a classic iPod, clearly low-powered, its screen barely sputtering to life before fading to black.

“Oops…” Agni started, his voice a pitch higher than normal, “I might have… uh… left the thing playing all night. Loop mode. The whole nine hours.” He grimaced.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell, broken only by the sound of Rudra sighing, his shoulders rigid with irritation as he glared at his brother. “You’re lucky she doesn’t know that.”

Plasma shakes his head with disapproval. “You realize she actually uses that for more than just background noise, right? Nice job killing her only way to tune that bastard out.”

“Hey! Girly’s got good music taste.” He let out a long, pathetic sigh, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he waited for the verdict, looking like a puppy that knew it had chewed the wrong shoe.

“I didn't think I'd have to explain basic boundaries to you today, but here we are.” The White Rabbit’s voice drops to a dangerous, quiet rasp, "You lay another finger on Riley’s things again and you’ll find out exactly how I handle incompetence. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Agni’s head bowed in total submission to the reprimand, his posture signaling complete defeat. The silence was deafening. The Rabbit’s warning wasn’t only to just the hulking red ogre but to all who heard it. The tension was broken shortly by Enzo’s aggravating voice.

“Maybe you’re a bit older than that,” Enzo leans to the side, trying to take a better view of her figure. “When was your first period?”

The sound that escaped Rudra was less a laugh and more a dry, high-strung cackle, forcing him to gasp for air between jitters. “‘Oly shit!”

Riley produced a sound of quiet exasperation, though her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Do you have any boyfriends?”

“No.” Her words were as choppy, icy and sharp as shards of glass.

“Oh shit! She speaks! Well, since you can talk, is Anita a Russian name? I knew a broad at a strip club once—“

Riley scoffs. “Huh. That’s weird. I was just thinking your face looks like a 'before' picture before I cave it in with my fucking fist. There’s seriously nothing I'd love more than to unplug your life support to charge my fucking music player.” She says coldly as she uses a smooth, quiet, and dangerously calm tone that masks a sharp edge to her voice.

“Oooh! A sense of humor huh? Dante’s the same way! You and him are gonna get along just fine!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, fat-man.” She says flatly.

The audio from her spy camera was becoming worse over time the more angrier Riley became. It was low-frequency at first, a throbbing hum that seemed to vibrate in the room, with a faint, wet, rasping sound hidden beneath the interference—like something breathing underwater.

They waited on the edge for a half an hour before the White Rabbit stood to his full height, arching his back and stretching his arms behind him, letting out a low, vibrating groan that started in his chest and ended in a sigh. “I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, I won’t be long. Plasma, I’ll leave you to supervise. See if you can get that wire connected.” The Rabbit demon says, not waiting for a reply as he exited, leaving the room to the weight of his right-hand man’s authority.

Plasma observes Riley’s pov from the hidden spy camera on her chest. The severe pixelation and digital jitter earlier had subsided from Riley’s emotions since Enzo had stopped talking. But he’s known her far too well, judging from the stillness on the screen, she was beginning to simmer down.

The ogre brothers wait in heightened anticipation before Rudra nonshantly shrugs. “Well, brother. I think it’s time you pay up—“

“This is just a wild guess here, but given how you were cozying up to the White Rabbit earlier, it’s probably safe to assume he’s your Daddy. Isn’t he?”

Enzo’s words hit the shapeshifter like a physical sting. His muscles boiled and his flesh rippled, but he couldn’t hold a shape. He drew his mouth into a thin line, his fingers digging into his palms as he waited for the awkward silence to break. Plasma sank back into the chair, reduced to a shivering, translucent mass of indigo protoplasm, the groans turning into silent tremors.

When the question hung in the air, Rudra’s jaw tightened. A low, sub-audible rumble vibrated in his chest, his massive fists clenched until his claws drew small drops of black blood from his own palms. He wants nothing more than to take off and crush this insect into paste. “Let me go, it’ll take only a second—“

“You do nothing Rudra.” Plasma’s hissing trill cuts through the tension. “I know it’s hard, but we have to stay here. Watch, grind your teeth, do whatever you want. But you do not move. Riley can handle herself, we have to trust her to be able to handle this.”

Rudra lets out an agonizing whine, a high-pitched, pathetic sound that completely contradicts his terrifying, massive frame. He dropped a heavy knee by the edge of the console, his slitted eyes tracking Riley’s every movement on the screen, completely helpless. “Fine.”

Agni however, calmly reached for a family-sized bag of BBQ chips by his side, treating the chaos like a backdrop for a casual snack time. He watched the tense exchange unfold, his eyes narrowing in intense judgment, yet he continued to eat. Crunch. Crunch. He wasn't just eating chips; he was consuming the drama. Every loud, oily bite matched the tempo of the tension, making him the only Demon in the room holding the front-row seat to the death of this Human versus a Devil girl, and loving every second of it.

Plasma and Rudra froze as they exchanged exasperated glares. Plasma’s eye twitched. "Agni. Seriously? Riley’s about to lose her temper and you’re eating... is that human food?" He scowls in disgust.

“This is the best entertainment I’ve ever seen. Besides, better that bloke instead of me for a change. Want some?”

Plasma felt a surge of rage, not at the situation, but at the sheer, mindless noise. It was like a metronome of pure annoyance. “Put those away before the White Rabbit returns.”

The blue ogre shakes his head with mild disapproval. “The reason Riley marks you up the way she does is because you don’t fucking listen!” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If we hear ONE more damn crinkle, I’m locking you in Makai.”

“Fine. Now hush! It’s getting good.”

They all collectively hear his harsh barking laugh and make a condescending joke at her expense. “Uh-huh. Sure. Bunny Rabbit probably tucks you in bed. Does he reward you for being his good girl?”

“Bloke’s not half wrong. White Rabbit does that often.” Agni says as he half shrugs.

Plasma slumps over the console, a deep groan escaping his throat. “Agni, I'm going to have to tell you to start charging you rent for the space you’re taking up in my head, because this is agony. Please cease. Your backtalk is hurting my ears.”

The feed began to stutter. It wasn't the usual digital artifacting. The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to slowly bleed outward, defying the light source from the outside. The darkness on the screen thickened, transforming from a simple lack of light into a localized, shifting smudge—a blacker than black void that ignored the laws of perspective.

It’s just interference, Plasma told himself, though his breath hitched.

The feed on Riley’s receiver hummed with a high-pitched whine that rose in pitch as her breathing quickened. As she began to growl, the feed couldn't cope with her intensity. The audio crackled, replacing her words with raw, distorted feedback. The camera swivels as Riley shifts in her seat to face Enzo. “Do me a favor, and please…Shut. The. Fuck. Up. I think you'll find it far more productive than anything you’re about to say."

Visually, the feed was dying. The image warped and warped again, stretching Enzo’s face into an elongated smear.

“It’s okay, Riley. Take a deep breath, don’t let him get under your skin.” Plasma whispers as if he was there with her. He wished for anything to talk her down from her rage.

“Your job is dropping me off at Dante’s place. NOT interrogate me about my personal life. This conversation is over, I don’t wanna hear your voice again.”

It was like watching a ghost in the machine—the camera tried to record, but on the screen, the image was breaking down, appearing to burn from the edges inwards. The video image became a frantic slideshow of disconnected frames, freezing, then jumping forward, leaving her pov looking like a flickering, phantom entity.

They witness Enzo swallowing his next words so hard his Adam's apple did a frantic dance, terrified that a single syllable would turn him into dust. All he did was bob his head up and down.

As Riley pulled her knees tightly against her chest, the sudden proximity overwhelmed the sensor. Her striped leggings surged toward the glass, transforming from a sharp fabric weave into a soft blur. The autofocus motor whirred with a faint, frantic click, unable to find a point of reference as her entire form became a hazy silhouette of warmth against the now-sharp background of the leather seats behind her.

The blinker from the truck had clicked—a rhythmic, annoying sound that seemed to measure the distance of their silence. Every blink felt like an accusation. It was quiet for a grand total of 10 minutes before the Human had a question that simply had to escape.

“Do you fuck the White Rabbit?”

An array of shocked gasps spilled out as Rudra’s head moved on a swivel. “Agni. Seriously!?”

“What!? I’m just as surprised as you are! More probably! I didn’t tell anyone, I swear!!!”

“What…?” Riley’s button camera lens, a microscopic glint of glass buried within the lavender-striped cat jacket, captured every frantic vibration of her chest. Through the wide-angle perspective of the pinhole, the world looked warped and fish-eyed, centering on Enzo's sweating face as his laugh died strangled in his throat, as the others pictured how his funeral would go.

Rudra grimaces. “Uh-oh! Oh gods! Plasma—! If you’re gonna do something, gotta do it now!”

“On it.” Plasma tries to get ahold of Riley’s ear piece. “Riley! Talk to me!” He leaned over the console, the flickering glow of four different camera feeds illuminating his frantic expression. On Monitor 4, shadows were warping around Riley’s screen.

"Riley, can you hear me?" Plasma pressed the comms button repeatedly, his voice a strained whisper, then a shout. Nothing but static in his earpiece. “She can’t hear me! Where’s the damn wire!?" He pounded his fist on the metal desk, causing the monitors to vibrate. “Find it!!!” He demanded, feeling utterly powerless to stop her from killing Enzo.

As her composure began to fracture, the steady frame began to judder. A low, distorted snarl vibrated through the jacket’s hidden microphone, peaking into a jagged spike of white noise. “I’m gonna give ya THREE seconds to shut your mouth," she snarls, her words dripping with venom. “Say another word, and I’m severing your larynx from your throat.”

They watched in absolute tense silence, with Enzo Ferino sitting there, looking like he’s trying to hold back a sneeze in a library, his face cycling through a series of increasingly alarming shifts. His jaw was clamped shut so tightly his teeth threatened to fuse into a single solid calcium block, while his lips performed a rhythmic, frantic dance—pursuing, thinning, and then folding inward as if attempting to swallow his own mouth. A tiny, high-pitched whistle of escaping air hissed from his nose, the only safety valve preventing his head from detonating.

Plasma has achieved a level of stillness that is physically improbable for a Demon of his species. He is so terrified of making a sound that he has seemingly forgotten how to breathe, his face turning a shade of dark blue that contrasts poorly with his red eye. He is frozen mid-blink, staring with such intensity that his eye has begun to water, but he refuses to wipe it for fear that the friction of a tear might sound like a gunshot in the vacuum of the room.

Agni was halfway through a handful of BBQ chips and is now trapped in a temporal rift. He knows that a single crunch will shatter the silence and likely his social standing, so he is attempting to dissolve a chip using only his saliva and sheer willpower. His fanged jaw is locked in a rictus of concentration, and his clawed fingers are hovering inches from his open mouth like a bomb disposal technician who just realized he’s holding the wrong wire.

As for Rudra, he’s not physically moving, but his face is performing a silent one-ogre play. His eyebrows are doing the heavy lifting, migrating toward his scalp in shock, then furrowing into his nose in judgment. He is vibrating with the suppressed urge to offer a whisper. She’s about to lose her godamn mind, his lips twitching into the shape of words he knows better than to speak. He looks less like a demon watching a tense moment and more like a pressure cooker about to whistle.

Just as Enzo’s eyes began to bulge with the frantic energy of a pressurized steam engine, the seal finally broke with a sound like a wet cork being pulled from a bottle, and his words tumbled out in a messy, unstoppable heap.

“Are you into Plushophilia—“

“THAT’S IT!!!” A raw, broken scream, before she lunged, a guttural cry that tore her throat raw, Riley’s button camera failing under the overwhelming pressure of her unchecked rage, finally plunging into a blizzard of snowy static just as she swung Ophelia in a backwards viscous arc and….

TWACK!!!

The entire feed cuts to black.

The room was instantly plunged into near-darkness, the only light remaining coming from the red, blinking LED of the now-failing mini spy camera. The silence was cut, not by birds, but by a sound akin to a metal orchestra falling down a flight of stairs from outside despite the thick concrete walls.

Screeeeeech-THUD-crunch-screeeeech!

“Oh fuck. Oh gods!! The rooftop, GO!” Snapped Plasma as he and the ogre brothers scurried to the rooftop and find a pile of vehicles in a mangled heap of rubber and crunched metal in the distance.

“You think that’s her all the way up the front there?” Rudra asks, narrowing his eyes. “That could be anyone!”

“I don’t think, I know.” He squints his eye against the hash sunlight. “There! We can see it from this distance! The dark green Toyota Tacoma up front. That’s where Riley and Enzo are.”

A sound started in Rudra’s belly—a slow, guttural vibration that sounded like shifting stones before catching in his throat. “I see them.” He chortles. “Oh, dear brother of mine…” he holds his palm up as a silent gesture of demand. “Time to pay up.”

“WHAT!?” The red ogre roars. “You telling me the bastard’s still alive after all that?”

“Look there. Green Toyota Tacoma.” He points out to the horizon ahead.

Agni followed his line of sight and his jaw dropped open with disbelief. “Sonofabitch!!! I can’t believe it!” He begrudgingly fished a hefty pouch from his pocket with exaggerated slowness while refusing to meet his brother's triumphant gaze. “Don’t get too comfortable, I’m getting my coins back.”

The leather satchel felt disproportionately dense in Rudra’s large-fist, a hard knot of clinking, bruised Makaian metal that defied its small size. Squeezing the worn drawstrings, he let out a low, rumbling chortle; the weight pressing back into his calloused palm was sweeter than stolen mutton. “The day’s still young, we’ll make many bets like this. Don’t worry.”

“Come on! Let’s return to the surveillance room and see if the cameras are back on and working again. Hurry, before the White Rabbit returns.”

——————————~~~~—————————————

The heavy steel door swung open, allowing the hum of the server racks to drown out the silence of the hallway. Plasma, sharp-eyed and restless, entered first, immediately scanning the monitors, his demonic posture radiating a mix of caution and intense, calculating focus. He vigorously taps the keyboard as he evaluated the grainy, silent footage of the other cameras before focusing on Riley’s button camera. The screen still blackened.

Close behind, Rudra moved with a quieter, more methodical energy, bringing an almost, logical, calm composure into the cramped space. He leaned against the wall without a word, already watching Plasma pull up the external camera feeds and adjusting the screens, his gaze fixed solely on the data, representing the ‘calm before the storm.’

Finally, Agni burst in last, bringing an unpredictable and chaotic presence to the room. He brought the chaos with him, muttering a blunt, complaint about human-modern technology, before demanding to know what became of their dear little friend, his eyes wide and eager for conflict. A subtle high-pitched whine emitted from the body as the screen flickered to life and the sensor engaged. The screen flickers from black to a chaotic, shaky POV—a spy camera re-activating after being violently jolted. The image is tilted at a 45-degree angle, showing a metallic, dimly lit driveway.

Rudra’s voice was a heavy, rhythmic wheeze—a whisper that vibrated deep in his massive, rumbling chest “Hm! You know brother, we should be impressed by our little friend. This Sapien ape is still in one piece! Guess Riley hasn't given into the urge to turn him into shredded confetti.”

“—Yet, I'm sure it’s just a matter of time.” Agni breathed, his words coming out in a humid, lung-deep hiss. “Ten coins, she kills him now that they’re away from prying eyes.”

Suddenly the audio cuts in with the sharp, rhythmic sound of Riley’s heavy breathing and the metallic ring of Ophelia striking a hard surface. Through the distorted lens, Riley’s silhouette moves with frantic energy against the backdrop of a large pine green truck. On screen 4, it showed from Riley’s pov, at four-foot-eight—had transformed into a chaotic vortex of fury. In a display of raw, uncontained rage, she was aggressively tearing into the pine green Toyota Tacoma, shattering the windshield with Ophelia and ripping the driver-side door off its hinges with a sickening screech of twisted metal.

Their reactions in the surveillance room were instantaneous and visceral.

Plasma was frozen, his mouth slightly open in a silent ‘O’. The confidence he previously held for her had evaporated, replaced by genuine, wide-eyed astonishment.

Agni stood to the right, had recoiled so sharply he nearly tipped backward. His taloned hands were pressed against his temples, his shoulders tense and raised toward his ears, watching the monitor with a mix of terror and begrudging respect as Riley shattered a side-view mirror. He grunted inaudibly, finally understanding why everyone spoke of her unbridled ‘Demonic rage' with hushed fear.

The truck's once-worn exterior now shows the signs of her outburst, with the hood crumpled and the side mirrors hanging by wires. As Riley finally stood still, the camera captured Enzo’s frantic face, his brow perspiring with sweat as Riley’s chest heaved, Ophelia held loosely at her side, while she surveyed the immobilization of the vehicle in the quiet that follows the noise.

Rudra, also stood—or rather, hunched—over the console, his crimson eyes widened to almost comical proportions. He was shaking his head slowly, a visceral physiological reaction of disbelief, his hands hovering near his chest as if to protect himself from a screen that couldn't possibly harm him. "I’ll take those ten coins now." Rudra muttered, his voice shaking, while on the screen, Riley kicked the front tire, causing the entire truck to shudder.

“Damn it.” Grumbling, the massive red ogre dug his claws into his own leather pouch, glaring at the ten heavy demon coins before tossing them at his sibling. "Take your wretched gold, you smug blue bastard," he growled, crossing his tree-trunk arms as his left eye twitched. "These bets were rigged anyway. I’m only paying up so I don't have to hear you boast about it during dinner."

They watched, totally stunned, as their small friend breathed in heavy gasps, leaving her shadow framed by disheveled hair, her expression one of utter destruction. White Rabbit’s lackeys didn't move. They simply stood in the darkness, newly terrified of the girl’s ferocity.

“Listen closely,” she hissed, her voice a low, jagged blade that cut through the city noise. “You’re NOT leaving. You’re staying until Dante returns. Then, you can limp home or get eaten by demons for all I care. Got it?”

Rudra chewed on his lower lip, a nervous tic that made his whole face wrinkle. “Plasma, what should we tell White Rabbit?”

"Look Plasma, I’m just saying, someone needs to tell him, and I’ve already been set on fire twice this week," Agni whispered, hunkering down beside Rudra whilst nursing his wound on his arm.

Rudra rubs the back of his head, watching Riley’s pov from the monitor.

Plasma rubs his face nervously. "White Rabbit specifically said we needed this guy alive for awakening Dante’s Devil trigger. If Riley were to kill him, the White Rabbit is going to be… peeved."

"Peeved? He’ll turn us into decorative coat racks for not communicating with her in the first place!" Rudra hissed. "But look at her! She’s four-foot-nothing and totaled his truck with two sentiment holy weapons. The sapien scum was simply sitting in his truck! He posed no threat to her after that!"

"Okay, fine," Plasma sighed, backing away toward the monitor. "We’ll tell the Rabbit. But we lead with the 'she showed great restraint' angle. We don't mention she almost turned this broker into confetti because he asked her if she was into 'plushophila.'"

"Good plan," Rudra agreed, already perspiring. He pointed to the ridiculous, brass-laden acoustic tube hooked directly into the side of the glowing monitor—the need to fix the failed communication system. "Look, Plasma," Rudra hissed, grabbing his friend’s shoulder, his red eyes darting between the monitor—which was currently flashing a frantic 'NO SIGNAL'.

Plasma hesitated, eyeing the brass acoustic tube on the monitor that connected to Riley’s ear piece. The tube was currently hissing back, a sign it was severely malfunctioning. “FIND me a replacement before he returns!! Look into the inventory cache, the storage locker, I don't care! Check the mahogany drawers in the corner! Not those drawers, the other ones! The ones with a ‘Rabbit’ logo! Just—hurry!"

The sulfurous scent of panic was nearly masked by the sterile aroma of ionized air from the massive, wall-mounted monitor. Rudra, usually more composed than his brother, felt his fingers twitch erratically, tapping a frantic rhythm against the metal desk legs.

Plasma’s focus was divided. His eye tracked the fluctuating, ruby-red bar graph on the monitor—the Rabbit’s biometric signature, currently drawing closer to the surveillance room while he watched Rudra’s clawed hands tearing through the top-right drawer.

"Come on, come on," he hissed, his voice a low, gravelly vibration.

The broken acoustic tube lay on the desk, its polyurethane casing brittle and snapped—a direct result of a foolish wager with Rudra’s brother. It was a "listen-only" coil tube, standard issue for surveillance, but if the White Rabbit returned and saw his desk tech damaged, he wouldn't just flay them; he'd turn them into chunky soup.

Rudra yanked open the second drawer. It was filled with antiquated demonic trinkets and paperclips.

Drawer three.

Claws scraped against metal, throwing aside obsidian paperweights and forbidden parchment. The Rabbit was returning—the biometrics on the monitor were shifting from an orange "proximity warning" to a menacing red. The silence of the surveillance room felt like a chokehold.

Rudra finally found it. A sealed, plastic baggie containing a brand-new, clear acoustic coil tube with a mushroom eartip, likely taken from a previous, less fortunate operator's kit.

He tore the plastic with a sharp claw, his heart hammering against his ribs as he tossed it over his shoulder to Plasma. As he hurriedly snatched it in midair—The quick-disconnect twist-lock on the broken tube was jammed. He twisted, muscles straining, his fingers emitting a faint, smokey haze.

Click.

The broken piece fell away. Plasma shoved the new tube into the connector, twist-locking it into place just as the monitor’s biometrics spiked to the top of the screen.

He slammed the drawer shut, threw the broken piece into the abyss of the trash bin, and slumped back into the chair, releasing the tension.

"Great," he whispered, a sharp, relieved grin breaking through, just as the heavy, ominous doors began to swing open.

————————————————————————

The surveillance room, usually humming with the tense energy of the Rabbit’s henchmen, fell into a suffocating, respectful silence. The White Rabbit demon navigated the doorway with practiced ease, his long, velvety ears twitching just below the top frame.

In one hand, he delicately carried a fine china teacup, steam rising in a small, gentle curl, entirely at odds with the glow of the dozen monitors displaying his illicit operations.

His lackeys—stepped backward, flattening themselves against the walls to make a clear path for him. He moved with a languid, terrifying grace, his glowing yellow-orange eyes momentarily scanning the monitors.

"Report," he commanded, his voice smooth as velvet but carrying the weight of a guillotine.

He didn’t look at any of them, his focus remaining on the teacup. "And more importantly, how is my dear Riley doing? Any excitement since I’ve been absent?"

Rudra spoke up and nearly squeaked a response, confirming that his quirky, fun-sized, and feisty Riley showed great ‘restraint’. The Rabbit smiled—a slow movement of pale lips—and took a gentle sip of his tea.

"Excellent," he hummed, seemingly delighted. "How is the communication coming along?” He pauses, adjusting his cravat, before clicking his long, gloved fingers toward the bulky CRT monitor sitting on the desk.

“The acoustic coil tube is repaired, Sir.” The Shapeshifter demon had said, wringing his hands anxiously.

The White Rabbit merely disregarded him, leaning down with a dramatic rustle of silk. He pushed a long, gloved finger against the 'Enter' key on the keyboard, holding it down with meticulous intent, expecting the computer to bow to his command.

Nothing happened. The void remained dark.

Plasma scrubs a nervous hand over his face while the ogre brothers maintain distance from behind the shapeshifter. The White Rabbit stiffened, his long ears twitching in annoyance. He tried again, pressing the key with a manicured fingertip, then tapping the monitor screen itself, his glowing orange eyes narrowing. The machine, stubbornly mortal, ignored the sheer power radiating from him.

With a loud, theatrical sigh that seemed to deflate his shoulders, the White Rabbit straightened up. He huffed, a sharp, ragged sound, and threw his hands up in a gesture of pure, elegant exasperation. His tall slim frame vibrating with a tension that was far more dangerous than outright rage. Around his neck, an immaculate white cravat and a cobalt amulet sat perfectly in place despite the chaotic state of his operation.

"Idiots," he hissed, the word smooth yet acidic. "I do not pay for incompetence. She is inside that demon hunter's miserable hovel, and I am currently…still out of touch." He gestured impatiently toward a complex device that blinked pathetically with energy—a monitoring station—before turning his focus to the small, metallic earpiece on the table.

"Connect it. Now," he commanded, his long fingers tapping rapidly against the counter. "I need to communicate with her. If that insipid oaf triggers her temper before I’m able to reach her, you will be the ones sacrificing your meager lives to feed my pet. Do I make myself clear?"

Plasma winced while the ogre brothers flinched, almost terrified as the Rabbit turned away, already constructing a monologue to deliver to Riley, who was currently braving the dangerous home of a seasoned demon hunter. He checked his pocket watch, the clicking sound rhythmic and relentless.

"She has all the temper of a caffeinated honey badger," he muttered to himself, "and subtly of a glitter bomb. I need to ensure she doesn't expose her powers too early." The tall, elegant rabbit demon leaned against the desk, his long, velvet-soft ears twitching with rhythmic precision. He adjusted his silk waistcoat, his crimson eyes narrowing as he focused on the grainy feed projected onto the wall. Beside him, two demon brothers and the shapeshifter nervously stood, their jagged breath hitching every time the camera jolted.

Through the lens of the spy camera pinned to Riley’s jacket, the world was a dizzying blur of motion. Riley moves with a predator’s grace, though the environment she navigated was far from refined. The apartment was a graveyard of discarded takeout boxes, overflowing laundry baskets, and stacks of yellowing garbage that threatened to collapse at the slightest breeze.

"Careful now," the White Rabbit demon purred, his voice like crushed velvet. Rudra pointed a clawed finger at the screen as Riley hopped over a precarious pile of garbage. "Would the amulet be there, Sir?”

The rabbit demon’s lip curled into a thin, sophisticated smile. “It’ll be around Dante’s neck at all times. I have my utmost trust in her.” He watched Riley weave through the chaos of the cramped living room, her perspective tilting as she brushed her fingertips against the jukebox. Despite the filth of Sparda’s spawn dwelling, his gaze remained fixed on her steady hands as she looked through the music.

On the screen, the perspective shifted as Riley stepped into the clearing. The camera bobbed with her stride until she spun on her heel. Facing her was the tall demon hunter, a silver haired man draped in weathered red leather. The White Rabbit demon’s lip curled into a thin, predatory smile as he watched the demon hunter’s hand hovered over the camera and pats Riley’s head.

"So," the Rabbit demon murmured, his voice a smooth, cello-deep baritone that vibrated through the room. "The Son of Sparda. I almost feel bad for what she’s going to do to him."

The ogre brothers hissed in sycophantic delight, their hulking shadows dancing on the walls as they watched the first sparks of the confrontation ignite on the glass.

His yellowish-orange eyes remained fixed on the screen, reflecting the feed from the spy camera with a chilling mixture of amusement and calculated interest. Surrounding him, his tall, hulking lackeys crowded forward, their forms monstrous and twisted, yet they held their breath in deference to their leader.

From Riley’s camera, her low-angle, grain-filled video continues to play. It was a close-up, shaky feed from a hidden camera. It captured Dante and an unsuspecting Enzo, who were busy whispering lewd comments about Riley’s relationship with her mysterious partner while his back was turned.

The scene escalated with surreal speed. Riley’s gloved hand came into frame, holding not a gun or a knife, but a single, unwashed silver spoon. With an expression of utter rage, she swung the spoon with surprising force, striking Enzo directly on the side of his head with deadly accuracy.

CLANG.

The sound was sharp and resonant, even through the speaker. Enzo let out a confused yell, grasping his head, while Riley immediately hissed a threat under her breath. “One more syllable and I’ll make sure your brain leaks outta your fucking ears!”

A dry, amused chuckle bubbled up from the White Rabbit’s throat. He reached up, smoothing his white cravat, his expression serene. "Efficient," the White Rabbit murmured, his voice velvety yet cold, admiring the sheer pettiness of the blow. "Putting the scum in his place, she never wastes energy does she?" Plasma chitters in agreement, and the Rabbit watches the replay of the spoon strike, his orange eyes shining with a sadistic glee, already planning how to turn this trivial humiliation into a total disaster for his enemies.

The low, bone-shaking hum of the surveillance room was usually the only thing the white Rabbit permitted to fill his ears. He stood like a spire of dark velvet, his long, notched ears twitching toward the monitors as he adjusted his cuffs with meticulous precision.

With a twitch of his long, velvety rabbit ears, he dismissed the shapeshifter, his red-orange eyes narrowing. "Keep a watchful eye on Riley," the White Rabbit commanded, his voice a low, cultured purr. "But understand this: you are merely a witness, not a participant. She is to manage this on her own. Do not interfere. If you so much as raise a protective finger, I shall ensure you never take shape again." Plasma bowed his head before turning into a common human form, departing, leaving the Rabbit demon alone to watch Riley holding her ground against Dante.

"Rudra, take Echidna and check the perimeter. The White Rabbit murmured, his voice a smooth, cello-like drawl. "I want—"

A sudden, violent screech of electronic feedback tore through the room and made the feed tremble. On screen number 4, Riley—stiffened.

Riley gasps, her hands flying to her ear as the frequency escalates to a painful whine. Panic paralyzed her for a microsecond before her knees buckled. She collapsed, hitting the dusty floor hard, her small frame curling momentarily before instinct took over. She clutched at her earpiece, her body contorting in pain as the high-pitched squeal echoed through the comms before screaming in pain.

The Rabbit demon didn't just hear the noise; he felt it in the marrow of his bones. His nose flicked with sudden, sharp irritation. White Rabbit watched through the camera’s unblinking eye as Riley tried to speak, only for her voice to be drowned out by a deafening screeeech. Her shoulders hunched, her tiny frame shaking. The White Rabbit’s gloved hands clenched onto the edge of the monitor desk, his long, gloved fingers tapping a fast, chaotic rhythm into the polished wood.

On screen, her movements were frantic and chaotic. Instead of standing, she began scrambling backward on her hands and heels, trying to put distance between herself and the noise, which seemed to be emanating from her ear drum and everywhere at once. Her heels scraped loudly against the floor, a desperate, scraping rhythm against the feedback.

Her camera, designed to detect motion, picked up her frantic crawling, capturing her wide-eyed, terrified expression as she scrambled until her back hit the pool table. She didn’t just fall; she fell like a puppet with its strings cut, before the fight-or-flight response forced her into that raw, scrambling retreat.

The sophistication he worked so hard to maintain—the refined demon who only destroyed what was necessary—was vanishing, replaced by a raw, possessive rage. He cared for her, in his own way, and watching her suffer due to simple incompetence was unacceptable.

The feedback spike was making his own ears ache, forcing him to momentarily press his own ears down with a gloved hand to soothe the pain. "Turn. It. OFF!!!" he roared. He turned slowly, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the floorboards, to look at the foolish ogre standing behind his chair. Agni was trying to fix the earpiece behind him. In his rush, had shoved the transmitter too deep, creating the agonizing shrieking feedback, a rookie mistake that White Rabbit heavily despised.

"You," the White Rabbit hissed. The word was thin and sharp as a razor. “You miserable, incompetent, inbred ogre!! Rotate it, don't jam it!" White Rabbit snapped. This was a demon who appreciated perfection; this chaos was sloppy and insulting.

He painfully watched Riley—his beautiful, and fiery little one—struggle, her shoulders shaking with the pain of the sound. His frustration with Agni nearly boiled over into a murderous rage, his ears almost pinning back flat against his head.

"B—boss, I was just—"

"Congratulations, Agni. You have just piped a thousand decibels of unfiltered agony directly into the ear of the only being in this world I deeply care about." The White Rabbit stood upright, his amber eyes glowed with a predatory, flickering light, and his long ears nearly pinned back flat against his skull—a sign of absolute, murderous frustration.

Rudra’s massive shoulders were hunched, trying—and failing—to look small. Nearby, his brother was currently being dismantled verbally by the White Rabbit demon. As he watched, his immense face cracked into a terrifying, uncomfortable grin but managed to keep a laugh in…for now.

But on screen, Riley finally managed to rip the malfunctioning device out of her ear, jamming it into her pocket.

As the feedback finally dies into a blissful silence, The White Rabbit exhaled a long, shaky breath, smoothed his waistcoat, and looked back at the screen with a pained, apologetic wince as the turns sharply in Agni’s direction. The White Rabbit slowly adjusted his cuffs, his voice cutting through the fading ring like a freezing blade.

"Your crude existence is tolerable only when silent," he purred, his tone dripping with aristocratic malice. "That wretched cacophony has offended my ears, and more unforgivably, disrupted my dearest companion. If your lumbering frames are not clear of this threshold in three seconds, I will personally ensure your remains are tailored into my next evening waistcoat." He gestured toward the exit with a single, white-gloved hand. "Go."

Their thick leathery skins scraped against the narrow corridor walls as they departed, leaving the White Rabbit, and its dozen flickering, unmonitored monitors, behind in absolute darkness.

—————————————————————————

The White Rabbit scanned the glowing screen on the monitor, his gloved fingers tapping a rapid, almost impatient rhythm on the armrest, pausing only to smooth his pristine cravat and sets the amulet in place.

Riley’s camera was trembling. She must be furious.

White Rabbit felt the link break. He let out a low, huffed sigh—a sound like velvet rubbing against metal—and pulled out his sleek smartphone.

Ring.

Ring again.

White Rabbit watched the call connect and then instantly disconnect. He tries again.

Ring…

The Rabbit demon chuckled, the sound dry and echoing in the cold surveillance room. "Stubborn little thing," he murmured, his yellow, needle-pupil eyes watching her defiance with amusement. He kept calling. The phone in her pocket buzzed in incessant, rhythmic intervals, a direct contrast to her furious, silent refusal. He knew she was hearing it. He knew she was furious at the technical failure. But the White Rabbit, appreciating the display of raw emotion, let the line ring out, waiting for her rage to burn through her stubbornness…before trying again.

Ring…

He frowns, his stitched brow creasing, a subtle, cold smile touching his lips. He wasn't worried; he was amused by her defiance. He meticulously adjusted his monocle, his eyes gleaming with a mix of sadistic charm and calculated patience, waiting to try again until she simmers down. "Oh, my little dove," he whispered to the empty monitor room, tapping the screen once more. "You're only making this more enjoyable."

The White Rabbit Demon pauses, placing the cellphone in his breast pocket, and stirs his now lukewarm teacup and raises the delicate porcelain cup to his lips. He didn't drink, didn’t even blink; his long, velvety ears merely twitched, pivoting toward the monitor like radar dishes locking onto a signal. On the screen, Enzo’s sneer was visible in high definition as he barked at Riley to answer the phone—“it’s probably your daddy.”

A slow, rhythmic thumping began—the Rabbit demon's oversized heel tapping against the floor, a metronome of rising irritation. He took a measured sip of the Earl Grey, the liquid touching his sharpened whiskers.

"How remarkably... pedestrian," he murmured, his voice like sliding a hot knife through wax. He tilted his head, one long ear drooping with feigned disappointment while the other stood starkly upright. He set the cup back into its saucer with a clink so precise it sounded like a bone snapping. He leaned forward, his towering, lithe frame casting a jagged shadow over the control console. With a gloved finger, he traced the outline of Enzo’s cut to his throat on the glass screen. "To possess a tongue so wagging, yet a mind so hollow. It’s almost a pity to waste good silk on such a graceless creature."

He adjusted his monocle, his crimson pupils narrowing into thin, predatory slits. "Let us see if he maintains that charming bravado when he’s falling through the sky….”

The White Rabbit demon sat perfectly still, his refined features illuminated only by the rhythmic flickers of the surveillance monitors. A few minutes passed—measured only by the synchronized blinking of a red light on camera four—as he watched Riley navigate her surroundings. Dante’s bedroom—the disaster in the bathroom. He closed his eyes, pressing a gloved hand to his forehead as if battling a migraine.

He huffed, a plume of faint, icy vapor escaped his twitching bunny nose, and shook his head, a long, sighing movement, intending to make it up for Riley soon.

He didn’t move at all after that, save for the forgotten teacup, his long ears twitching faintly in anticipation. His tea was cold, lukewarm and bitter, wasted, but he didn't seem to notice, his gaze—too sharp, too intelligent to be natural—fixed on the screen. The monitor wall hissed softly, and as another several minutes ticked away, with Riley slinging insults towards the Demon hunter for his lazy and unkempt behavior, before she finds a high vantage point to be hidden away from the rest of the world did the rabbit finally allow a terrifyingly wide, sharp-toothed smile to break his sophisticated facade.

The White Rabbit let out a low, almost musical chuckle that vibrated in the quiet space.. He adored this. He adored how she, a half mortal, dared to toy with the very monsters who hunted their kind.

Through a fortuitous, angled reflection in the window, the high-definition spy camera captured not just her, but the sharp, agonizing inconvenience was written across her face. Her tiny brows were furrowed in pure exasperation, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip. She was a picture of impatience, dealing with a difficult situation that was clearly below her pay grade—if she was ever paid at all.

The White Rabbit smiled faintly, tapping a long, gloved finger against his chin. He enjoyed her tenacity, but he preferred her comfortable.

He smoothly pulled his slim phone from his breast pocket, his long fingers typing a quick command before bringing the phone to the side of his head, never breaking his gaze from the screen where her reflected image looked ready to combust.

Riley’s feet merely dangled at the very edge of the wardrobe. her spy camera caught the slight wobble of her legs as she calculated the distance. She was far too small for such a vantage point, yet she handled it with reckless confidence.

Three, two, one. She leapt.

On the monitor, she appeared to fly, her form distorting slightly in the fish-eye view as she descended from the upper-right corner of the frame. She hit the floor with a soft, barely audible thump, instantly rolling into a graceful crouch.

But similar to Enzo, the son of Sparda could always be counted upon. The audio feed crackled through the surveillance console speakers, pristine and horribly clear.

On the central monitor, the demon hunter leaned from the couch,, a sneer twisting his smug face. “Ooh, sounds like someone is in trouble," Dante’s voice drawled through the high-fidelity feedback. "Did you not finish your chores, or did Daddy just miss his little princess?”

In the observation room, the atmosphere instantly dropped into a sub-zero freeze.

The tall rabbit demon did not flinch, scream, or break character. Instead, his long, velvet-furred ears slowly rose to a sharp, parallel vertical alignment—the absolute biological apex of his attention. His left gloved hand, immaculate and clad in a silk cuff, rested flat against the console. Beneath his palm, the reinforced metal began to groan and warp under a sudden, terrifying surge of mechanical pressure.

His crimson eyes narrowed, focusing on the screen with a sharp, analytical intensity. Every muscle went still, projecting the terrifying calm of a strategist who had already mapped out the next several minutes. He did not look away from the monitor, his gaze remaining fixed on Dante’s movements, silently cataloging every gesture and weakness.

"Vile, uncultivated swine," he hissed under his breath, his voice a gravelly, cultured purr of pure disgust. He didn't yell; he merely loathed. His nose twitched rapidly in offense as he stared at the screen, itching to snap the son of Sparda’s neck like a dry twig. He closed his eyes, his twitching nose freezing in place. He drew a long, slow breath through his nostrils, forcing the air down into his chest, feeling the velvet of his waistcoat strain. He counted the seconds—one, two, three—listening to the demon hunter’s mockery against Riley play out through half-lidded eyes.

He let the breath out in a low, controlled hiss, straightening his spine. He smoothed his waistcoat and offered a razor-thin, terrifyingly polite smile. Before he opened his eyes again, he heard a sharp, snappy voice from camera 4.

“I’d smack you, but that might make you look better!”

The White Rabbit felt the tension instantly vanish from his shoulders, replaced by a warm, smug pride. He straightened his waistcoat, a small, sophisticated smile touching his lips. He loved the way she speaks, her voice sharp as refined silver, unwavering despite the size difference. She was tiny, nearly a head shorter than most humans, let alone a demon, yet she possessed such a fiery spirit.

Click.

Riley’s voice drifted through the speaker, dripping with sugary warmth. "Mister Alabastor! Hi, how are you?”

A low, resonant chuckle vibrates through the phone line, the sound rich and deceptively smooth. "Mister Alabastor?" he echoes, the title rolling off his tongue with amused indulgence. “Being a little formal, aren’t you?”

His towering, elegant frame shifts as he checks his immaculate cuffs, long plush ears twitching with quiet delight at her greeting. “Good evening my darling,” his voice drops an octave, dripping with playful formality. “I’m well and how are you doing this evening?”

“I’m okay. Could you hang on a second? It’s a bit crowded here.”

His long ears swiveled forward, flattening slightly as his crimson eyes narrowed. He caught the faint, sharp intake of her breath before she spoke—the tiny, rigid pause between her syllables. He watches her leave Dante’s apartment, her camera flickering.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes, my darling. I can.”

“Lemme get up higher. Keep talking to me.” She continues, her tone remaining flawlessly sweet, though it carried the frigid edge of a guillotine blade.

A soft rustle indicated that he was moving, leaving the surveillance room to get a better signal. He takes the elevator up to the rooftops and exits to the night air where Agni and Rudra were standing guard nearby. With a deliberate, slow movement, he brought a gloved hand to his nose—a delicate, pointed affair that twitched with immediate, ravenous curiosity. He inhaled the night. It was a cocktail of scents only he could appreciate: the sharp, metallic tang of the distant, cold stream, the iron-rich aroma of freshly overturned earth, and the faint, sweet scent of nocturnal flowers Riley had planted, all underlined by the intoxicating, smoky aroma of a distant, dying fire.

Rudra, the elder ogre, stood facing the edge, his massive sword tilted downward against the cement. Next to him, his younger brother, Agni—same size but twice as loud—scanned for any oncoming threats. He tapped his clawed fingers on a heavy, iron-bound hilt. Both their hearing picks up Riley’s trembling voice over the speaker.

“Tell me, my little dove," the Rabbit purrs, the teasing edge in his tone sharp enough to cut, yet entirely gentle. "Did you call me by a formal name because you miss your favorite Rabbit?"

"Sure," she replied, the honey in her voice turning to pure poison.

"Ooof…She’s still pissed," Rudra grimaces, his deep voice vibrating in the air. "I felt that temperature drop in the air. The little thing is barely holding it in."

Agni chuckled, a sound like grinding rocks. "Listen to that voice, brother. She’s already tipping a nine on the anger scale, given how insufferable that sapien and Dante was, it’ll be easy money. I say she’ll give the Rabbit a warning," Agni said, adjusting his stance. "Thirty gold pieces, she’ll warn Rabbit that she’s gonna lose it."

“—Mister Rabbit, if you happen to hear a faint screaming sound in the background, don't panic—it’s just my soul leaving my body. I swear, this day didn't just go wrong, it performed a choreographed hit job on my sanity. Ya ready?”

“Bad day my darling?”

“Worst one yet. I’m gonna scream now, I'd suggest you ease the phone from your ears.”

The White Rabbit demon held his smartphone nearly six inches from his velvet-furred cheek. Through the speaker, a high-pitched, manic static was beginning to replace Riley’s voice.

“She’s about to scream,” Agni exhales a breathy wheeze, suppressing his need to laugh. “She’s gonna cause another power outage!"

"Quiet, fool, listen!” Rudra commanded, his red eyes narrowed, focusing on the stillness of the air. “Fifteen coins that there’s gonna be a murder of crows right…over…”

The ogre brothers and the White Rabbit felt the shift in atmospheric pressure before they heard it.

On her end, her rage was absolute, a pure, shrill shriek of fury. But because her rage was so intense—metaphorically and literally breaking the channel—the phone speaker didn't emit a sound.

Instead, the phone emitted a distorted, rhythmic pulsing—bzt-bzt-bzt—like a mechanical heartbeat dying. The White Rabbit frowned slightly, tapping the screen with a gloved fingertip, almost unaware that his phone was about to be obliterated by her supernatural acoustic rage.

Far beyond the foothills, a violent eruption of white mist—a vapor cone—shattered the air, indicating something had just breached the sound barrier. A split second later, a sonic boom roared across the city, causing the ground beneath the ogre brothers and the Rabbit’s feet to tremble. It was a sharp, splitting sound—like an explosive blast of thunder, yet it carried a high-pitched, angry scream from miles away.

From the distant tree line, a massive flock of black crows erupted into the air, fleeing in panic, a chaotic swirling cloud of feathers trying to outrun the sound.

"Don’t talk! Don’t even breathe you—SCREEEeee—First, I was trapped with that—bzt-bzt-bzt—he asked me how old I was and if I had my period yet. Then, he assumed various filthy rumors about us.” She added, her voice dropping even lower, almost entirely hushed. “He asked if I fucked you…and if I did, if I was into plushophila.”

The humid air seemed to drop ten degrees.

The White Rabbit didn't shout. He didn't rage. Instead, a terrifyingly serene smile spread across his pale furry face, his sharp canines peeking through his lip. The long ears atop his head snapped upright, rigid and intense, matching the unnatural stillness of his form.

"Plushophilia," he repeated, the word tasting like garbage in his mouth. How incredibly… small, he thought to himself, his growl a low rumble that vibrated through the air. To imagine a mortal mind, so shallow, so fixated on such trivial, obscene filth, attempting to comprehend my… affections.

He turned back, his gaze intensifying, radiating a cold, overwhelming power. He thinks I am a toy, does he? A plush? He chuckled, an amused sound that lacked any human warmth. "That is…certainly colorful pieces of gossip." He tapped the amulet atop of his cravat, where a soft, unnatural light pulsed underneath—his demon heart pumping. His smile widened, becoming almost affectionate, yet entirely sinister.

"It's SO humiliating," She’s rambling now, the nervous energy making her voice squeak over the phone. "I didn't mean to tell you. I don't even know why I did it. Forget I said anything. Please forget. I should just delete my phone, hug an oncoming bus—"

White Rabbit heard the small, wet gasp—the universal prelude to a sob. She was trying desperately to hold it together. His sophisticated facade didn't drop; it sharpened. He did not offer empty platitudes or frantic reassurances. Instead, his voice dropped an octave, grounding, heavy, and absolute. “Riley, listen—“

Then, he heard sharp, condescending snicker from Agni—as if he was listening in about Riley’s humiliating kink rumor.

“Wait—? Mister Rabbit? Who’s that—?”

The White Rabbit froze. The only movement was the sudden, sharp stiffening of his left ear. He didn’t make a sound, but the anger inside him immediately spiked, the air becoming thick and choking, enough to make Agni’s snickering cease abruptly. “One moment my little lamb,” White Rabbit’s voice was velvet over the phone, a stark contrast to the sharp snap of his gloves tightening. "I need you to stay on the line please."

Slowly, terrifyingly, White Rabbit turned his head, his yellow-orange eyes narrowing. His gaze dropped an octave, losing all its polished charm.

"White Rabbit? What's going on?"

Agni stopped laughing, his grin vanishing, replaced by a look of sheer panic.

The Rabbit demon didn't speak immediately. He just stared at him, the sheer malice radiating from him causing the heat to drop by twenty degrees.

It was a fluid blur of motion, driven by the explosive, predatory leverage of the White Rabbit demon's muscles.

Thwack!!!

Force Edge, all a hundred and seventy centimeters buried itself to the hilt through the meat of the ogre’s leg, pinning it against to the concrete.

Agni’s laugh choked into a wet, gurgling gasp. Dark blood began to well around the ground, filling the cracks and drowning a dandelion.

He rips the blade free with a wet, sickening screech of metal against bone. Blood sprayed across the ground, but not a single drop touched his tailored velvet suit. Agni collapses, whimpering into the dirt while Rudra tends to him.

The burly blue ogre hoisted his brother’s arm over his boulder-sized shoulder, hauling the emotionally and physically bruised brute away from their unhinged White Rabbit demon leader. Once they were in the clear and far from being mincemeat, He pulled out a battered leather pouch. With heavy, clumsy fingers, he began sliding thick stacks of brass and iron chips from palm to palm.

Thirty, forty, fifty-five…

He scowled, mentally recounting the illicit bets they had made against Riley’s ridiculous antics earlier today. If they were going to lay low, they needed every last scrap of coin accounted for.

“I won."

Agni frowned, looking at the ledger. "You? These bets are fucking rigged! We need something easier, more predictable."

"And he," Rudra said, watching the Rabbit Demon saying sweet nothing’s to Riley, "is too dangerous for his own good."

"Next time," Agni grunted, scratching his head, "we bet on the amount of times he calls her his Darling or little one.”

——————————————————————-

“What was that about mister Rabbit?”

"Nothing that needs your attention, my dear. Just cleaning up some debris," he murmured, his tone eerily serene. "Keep talking to me. I’d love to hear your voice. I need you to know you are safe with me. Always."

The Rabbit demon casually flicked the blood-slicked weapon into the air, removing the amount of blood staining the blade and hoisting it over his shoulder to pin it against his back. He pressed the sleek smartphone back to his cheek, his voice returning to a smooth, unbothered purr. "Now, tell me. What else happened today?”

The phone was pressed so tightly against his cheek that the plastic groaned, yet White Rabbit didn’t move an inch to adjust it. He stood tall—his slender, tailored silhouette stark against the moonlight. His fine white cravat sat perfectly in place, contrasting with the faint, stitched scars that framed his perpetually weary eyes.

“—right so then we arrived at Dante’s apartment and Enzo tried to expose my abilities to that Crimson Lighthouse!!” Riley’s voice wasn't just loud; it was cracking with the kind of frantic rage that usually made lesser demons look for cover. Through the phone, she was a storm. In the night, Rabbit was the eye. “The son of Sparda is FEEDING into it, not to mention the damn ear piece goes off my goddamn ear! And I don’t know, if you did it, or if some—mother—bzt brain-dead inbred Ogre—!”

“Breathe my dear,” Rabbit said softly. His voice was calm, a quiet hum that barely registered against her yelling. He didn't blink often, either. His yellowish-orange eyes simply remained focused on the small, strands of silver hair that managed to stick to his suit from Riley’s affectionate cuddling earlier. He plucks the hairs before sticking them into his breast pocket to save for later, his expression perfectly neutral, even tender, despite the demon blood running through his veins. He knew this part of her—the part that demanded to be heard until the fury burned itself out.

“Oh, and Dante? He mocked me, pretty much calling me the princess in our little relationship.” she shrieked, the sound distortion making his ear ache. “So, I’m out here in the open air because if HE or another goddamn demon asks me about our relationship, I will kill them...”

He heard her take a sharp breath, transitioning from anger to sheer exhaustion. He waited. He knew the silence that was coming. He could feel her pulse racing through the speaker, her anger leaving her as she realized he wasn’t going to feed into it.

“... Please give me your permission to end their lives." she whispered finally, the rage replaced by a broken sigh.

"I can’t allow that, my darling. Not yet," he replied into the silence, his tone filled with a calm, patient reassurance. He stood perfectly still, offering the space she needed to collapse, a towering, quiet presence that wouldn't shatter under her chaos.

A long, shuddering breath escaped her, while the sharp edge in her voice softened, transforming from a whip-crack to a low, measured tone as if her rage had sizzled out. “A truly terrifying demon hunter indeed... he’s got a lot in common with pizzas—cold, greasy, and only tolerable when everyone else is too drunk to notice how cheap he actually is.” There was a quick, fleeting upturn of her tone, that was accompanied by a soft huff.

The White Rabbit lets out a quiet, breathy laugh that crackled slightly over the line, instantly putting her at ease. “Is my little Dove feeling better?”

“Y—yes. I’m sorry, I called you that—it’s just…I got so angry. Just understand it wasn’t directly towards you, I just couldn’t be interrupted right now.”

White Rabbit stayed quiet on the line for a moment, letting the silence bridge the distance between them. When he spoke, his voice was low and slow. "I know you're stressed,” he said quietly into the receiver, his voice steady and calm. “And I know you didn't mean it. It's alright. The hard part is over. Now, tell me. What’s your strategy regarding the amulet?”

He listens as she explains her experience with Vaysl, the jobs he forced her to do demonstrated competence and reliability. Playing as a confidante, a friend, perhaps—god forbid perhaps even a romantic interest, before the final, ruthless act of betrayal. The White Rabbit purred. His voice, smooth and sinister, signaling his total agreement with her plan. “Very good. I have no doubts that you will excel.”

“Th-thank you, White Rabbit.”

“Let’s talk about something else for a moment—do you need me or Plasma to distract you from tonight, or do you just want to keep venting about today?”

“Honestly, a distraction sounds amazing. Could we…? Okay, so I'm really bad at this. I'm trying to think of a cool, suave way to ask if we could hang out together, but I’m not as charming as you. So, I'm just going to be super awkward and say: can we hang out together tonight? Because,” There was a pause, save for the distinct, painful sound of her hand gently smacking against her forehead. “I... I want to be with you right now.”

The White Rabbit’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smirk. Beneath his calculating, demonic exterior, the sheer, frantic sincerity in her small frame was oddly yet deliciously captivating.

“I know, it hasn’t even been a day, but I was thinking—the night’s still young, and I don’t want to go to sleep yet, so maybe we can race tonight—“

"Riley," he purr-growled into the receiver, his voice smooth and laced with quiet amusement. "Riley Mae Pierce,” He says her full name, the sound of it in his soft, gravelly tone causing her to pause. “The silence in this building is remarkably loud, Riley. He murmured. “I find myself expecting you to be by my side. It's... unsettling. I miss you, too my darling.”

A cobalt-hued, large undulating mass slithered behind him, its form rippling before settling into the shape of a panting Plasma. He cleared his throat, his crimson eye darting toward the White Rabbit. "Sir," Plasma whispered, bowing deeply. "DARKOM has been watching Riley’s whereabouts. They’re onto her. The strike squads are out tonight, and they aren't taking prisoners."

The White Rabbit then tilted his head, giving a single, agonizingly slow nod of acknowledgement.

“But…Mister Rabbit?”

“I’d love to compete in our little race, however…” he said through the speaker. His voice was a calm harbor, quiet and steady. “But I must decline this opportunity on your behalf."

His voice dropped to a quiet, intense murmur. "The night is not merely dark; it is dangerous. Particularly for someone like you. To go out there alone tonight is not a calculated risk, it is folly. DARKOM has been vigilant and they have long teeth, my dear. I would much rather you stay here, where I can ensure your safety, than watch you walk into a situation designed for monsters.” He sighed, not in frustration, but in careful consideration.

“But Rabbit—! I can take care of myself! You’ve seen it, I can—!”

White Rabbit exhales a deep sigh. When he first met her, he had merely intended to use her as a weapon. But now, the thought of DARKOM soldiers hurting the only being he cared about most made his blood run ice-cold with a terrifying, foreign emotion. He was a demon who had sworn to sever the wall between earth and Makai, yet here he was, agonizing over a Devil girl who had completely hijacked his cold, cynical mind.

“I know you can handle yourself, and I respect your capability truly. However, I refuse to let you put yourself at risk when I can be there in ten minutes. You wish to compete. I understand that. But I fear that DARKOM has been tracking your movements, thus the risks are too high. Let us make a wager of our own instead—a, shall we say, safer venue? I can’t lose you to murderous vermin like them.”

Riley sighs, a sound mixing fatigue and reluctant understanding. "Yeah, I know, I know. Fine. It’s just... I guess I really wanted to beat your tight ass on that straightaway."

A soft, knowing laugh escaped through White Rabbit’s chest, a sound that seemed to vibrate with amused charm—a sound of someone well-acquainted with her competitive streak. “I’d expect nothing less,” he murmured, his laughter smooth as velvet, revealing he was completely charmed by her confidence rather than threatened by it.

From the other end, a contained string of squeals and sharp intakes of breath erupted from Riley, her voice practically vibrating through the speaker. “So…you’ll meet me here?”

A low, subterranean rumble rumbled in his chest, a soft, involuntary purr that made his chest ruffs shiver. The juxtaposition struck him deeply. He was a towering anarchist, a harbinger of death forged in the depths of Makai, yet here he was, melting over the breathless, rapid chatter of a tiny, spirited Devil girl. He couldn't help but pull his spindly frame a little tighter into his sharply tailored suit, smoothing the white cravat at his collar as his long proud ears nearly flattened in a mixture of fond exasperation and undeniable affection. “Consider it done. I'm already on my way.” He murmured into the speaker and ended the call.

The White Rabbit demon lets out a breathy, rabbit-like huff. He snapped the phone shut and took a long look at the moon. His stitched-up scars caught the light, and his glowing, yellowish-orange eyes softened entirely.

He wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to tether his dark, mad soul to someone so overwhelmingly beautiful and pure, but as he adjusted his monocle and leapt into the night, he knew he would gladly burn the world to ashes just to keep her smiling….

-End of the long ass side story, there’s going to be more like this, hope you enjoyed this and lemme know what you think~!-

#riley pierce oc #dmc #oc #madi3sterling oc riley pierce #dmc netflix #white rabbit dmc #white rabbit #madi3sterling oc riley pierce x wrabbit #side story Riley Pierce and the White Rabbit #The Screech Of Death side story madi3sterling #honestly Agni and Rudra making bets on Riley is the funniest shit ever #WRabbit having a soft spot for Riley #writing in the pov of WRabbit was hella different but fun at the same time #more side stories to come!!#fanfic Screech Of Death DmC #Agni knew he fucked up from the BEGINNING #Rudra and Plasma feeling protective over Riley is too adorable #Riley Pierce DmC oc fanfic

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