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eponastory · 6 months

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Murder! You Wrote.

An interactive second person being of view Devil May Cry fanfiction!

Poll is at the end of the chapter!

Firstly, you will need to read each part as it's posted. In order for the story to go on, you will have to vote on what happens next! Now, this can go in several different directions, so please pay attention for the little clues. You can guess who the murderer is before the story ends, but the reveal will be at the end. Have fun!

Also, this will be a Gender Neutral Reader and there will be no use of pronouns or detailed descriptions. YOU are the Reader. This is pretty much your story, I'm just throwing out possibilities! 😁

It's dark. So dark that the street lights do not provide much luminance to see the words on the sign above the entrance to the hotel. The rain from earlier in the day made the air muggy on this autumn night. You are trying hard to see ahead of you, but the fog has made it difficult. Groaning, you reach into your Jean pocket for the small piece of paper with the address written on it.

As you bring it up to your eyes, you see that you are indeed in the tight place. However, it is not as you expected it to be.

You were expecting this grand hotel. Not this rundown, building in the middle of spookyville. If someone were to go missing, this was the place. The atmosphere alone was speaking to you. Yes, this was the perfect place for inspiration for your next book.

After all, you were a world-renowned murder/mystery author.

Most, if not all, of your books were inspired by places you have visited around the world. It was no surprise that your books were on par with Agatha Christie, but you were stuck on this next one. Your publisher was urging you to write your next book, but you were burnt out from publishing book after book.

You were here for the local Oddities and Curiosities convention as a guest speaker. Except your hotel was not as lavish as the convention organizers said it was. Oh well, at least you did not have to pay for it.

You swallowed as you felt like you were the victims of one of your own stories. This had to be a stupid decision. Maybe you should have politely declined their offer of free lodgings. Next time you will be more mindful of that.

The buzz of the lights in the outdated lobby was the setting of a movie you had seen once. Not a particularly good movie, but it was still enough to set you on edge. There were two chairs up against the mint colored walls with a table in between them. The dim lighting almost made everything look like some insane asylum. Even the white linoleum floor gave you this uncomfortable dread. The long hallway before you stretched on for an eternity. It invited you into some horror you could not explain as it rolled in your belly.

DING!

The feeling vanished as you felt yourself nearly jump out of your skin. You turn around to see a man standing at the reception desk. He was leaning against it with his back turned to you.

"Yo! Anyone there?" He said. You noticed he was dressed rather odd. A red coat, leather pants, and boots. The other strange thing was the color of his hair. "Service really stinks around here." He scoffed as he stood up straight. "They tell you it's a five-star hotel, then this shit happens." You knew he was talking to you when he turned his head to the side.

"It could be worse." The words popped out of your mouth. "For all I know, this could be some H.H. Holmes bullshit hotel." You knew the story about the famous Chicago murder hotel in the 1890's. You wrote a fantastic historical fiction novel about it. "Next thing you know, you fall into a vat of acid or something." There was a short laugh from the man with the white hair.

"Heh, I've seen worse." He turned around to look at you. "You look like the type to be into that sort of thing anyway." You shrugged.

"I know a thing or two." After all, you spent countless hours of research on all sorts of egregious crimes. He nodded, probably not really interested in what you were there for in the first place. "Actually, I need to check in."

"Well, I'd go find a better place if I were you." Obviously, but you were a bit on the poor side at the moment. No new book, and you spent most of your money fixing up your Victorian home. "Service is lacking, and there is no bar." A bar was essential for your work to begin.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Both you and the stranger in red turned to the direction of the sound to see another man. This man was peculiar. He was just as tall as the odd man you were speaking to, but he was as pale as a dead body. Black hair swept back with as much hair gel that could be mustered to keep those locks in check. He was certainly gaunt withp his cheekbones poking out like sharp alabaster. The dark circles under his eyes also did not help his appearance either.

Just looking at the man gave you a distrustful feeling.

"May I be of assistance?" You gulp at the sight of the man behind the reception desk. He gives you a blank stare. You swear up and down that you are in some kind of dream, but you know you are not. You shake off the tingling feeling going down your back as you look to the red clad stranger you were speaking with earlier. He shrugs with a small smirk on his lips.

"Uh... yes, sorry." You pull out your phone with your reservation details already up on the screen. The receptionist only looks down with his eyes as you put your phone on the desk. "I'm here for the convention. My room should already be paid for the weekend."

"Ah yes... the Author." The gaunt man said with a drill voice that dragged out each syllable. He reminded you of Professor Snape from Harry Potter. The slow retort was enough to make you really wonder if you had stepped into some alternate reality.

The grunt from the man next to you said otherwise.

"Uh, yeah, I'm here for the Oddities and Curiosities Convention." You took your phone from the desk and put it in your back pocket. "The convention people were supposed to pay for all of my expenses."

"Yes, everything is paid in full." The half lidded dark eyes of the man across from you seemed to be staring out into nothing as he turned over a page in the log book. Was this place not up to date? Everything was... old fashioned. "Please wait." It was as if the man were a robot as he promptly turned away.

"Seems like everything here is all analog." You made the observation as you saw the old television sitting on a table in the corner behind the desk. "Even that TV looks like it's straight out of the 60's." You told the stranger you met earlier.

"That's nothing, you should see the rooms." He pointed over his shoulder towards the hall. "Rotary phones and vibrating beds with coin slots." That was really bad. And gross, but he looked pretty jovial about it. "It's like I'm back in the late 80's." You were not sure if you should run far away or not.

"I'm really glad I brought disinfectant spray." You thought about the can of Lysol you normally carried around for reasons like this. It was safely stored in your backpack. You traveled light, only bringing what you really needed with you. "Can't do anything about the bed bugs though."

"If it makes you feel any better, at least the sheets are clean." Thank the heavens for that. There was one saving grace about meeting the man you were standing there with.

"Are you here for the convention too?" You asked him. You were curious about why someone dressed like him was actually there.

"Nah, just in town for a job." He seemed to be dismissive of the whole thing. "My client is paying for the weekend, but said client hasn't shown up yet."

"That sucks." You wondered what kind of work the man did. He was definitely dressed for something a bit more lucrative. Red coat, faded Henley, and not to mention the guns. Two guns. .45 caliber. Custom made.

You knew guns only by the research you did for your books. He had to be some kind of undercover agent or assassin... something like that. This was giving you some ideas for your next book at least.

"Here is your key." The receptionist came back slamming the key on the counter to grab your attention. "Your room is on the second floor. Breakfast is provided until 9 AM." You hesitantly took the key while trying not to show you were slightly perturbed by the zombie across from you. "Enjoy your stay." He said slowly and ominously.

"Thanks... I guess." You looked at the man you had been talking to before with a bit of nervousness. "See you around."

"Yeah. I'm sure we'll run into each other again." He gave a mock salute with a smirk before turning his attention to the zombie receptionist.

You slowly made your way up to your room. The elevator was apparently out of order, so you took the stairs. Thankfully the second floor was not too bad. It had a different theme going on. Instead of mint green walls, they were more of a salmon color with brown and orange accents. It could be much worse.

Once you found your room, you unlocked the door and opened it. The guy downstairs was right. It was pretty bad, but at least it did not smell like an old musty hotel. It was actually not that bad. The bed definitely had a coin mechanism, but at least it looked comfy with the beige linens and brown comforter.

At least the shower was in working order.

You threw your back pack on the red chair in the corner before getting ready for bed. Tomorrow you were going to have breakfast, then you had to be at the convention center for ten.

You were sleeping pretty well until you heard something strange coming from the vent above your bed. A strange ticking sound had made its way into your dreams before pulling you to the land of the living. The ticking was not like a clock. It was more like little finger nails tapping on the vent. The rhythm of it had you sleepless for the rest of the night.

Until it stopped at 5AM on the dot.

You were tired when you rolled out of bed at 7. Your feet dragged as you made your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Brushing your teeth had been a slow process as you stared into the mirror. Your eyes had dark circles under them indicating your three or so hours of sleep were not enough. Your eyes were slightly bloodshot from being awake as well.

Hopefully you would get a better rest when you returned from the convention.

Going down the stairs was an endeavor. You held on to the railing for dear life as you made your way to the first floor. You were in desperate need of caffeine and you really hoped the coffee at the breakfast bar was adequate enough for your refined tastes. If not, you could always find a Starbucks on the way to the convention.

Once you finally made your way to the first floor, you found the breakfast room. It came as a surprise to see there were five other people there.

The one you recognized first was the man with the red coat you had spoken to last night. He was sitting quietly at a table practically inhaling his waffles while another man sat in front of him. The two men were similar in features which clearly made them related. While the man in red was more relaxed, the one sitting across looked as though he was losing his patience.

Oh well, eggs and bacon were calling you.

You did notice a man and woman giving each other the cold shoulder as they ate their breakfast. The couple was in their early thirties at most and sat two chairs down from each other. It was obvious they were having a silent fight with each other. She would glance at him with hurtful eyes every now and then.

Then there was the older woman quietly sitting at the table by the window with a book in her hand. Her glasses were on the tip of her nose as she sat there. Her dark skin hinted at her Sub-Saharan ancestors. You admired her poise as she sat there eating and enjoying her book. A book which you had written almost ten years ago.

She must be there for the convention as well.

Just as you were dropping spoonful of scrambled eggs on your plate, a scream rang out through the entire first floor.

All at once, everyone in the room stopped moving and turned their attention to the hallways outside. Your immediate instinct was to find out where that scream originated from, so you took your plate and headed out of the room.

Being the true crime fanatic that you were, you followed the wailing sound of a woman who was in obvious distress. Turning left down another corridor, you saw her kneeling on the linoleum floor with her hands over her mouth as she cried. You did not even bother to put your plate down as you stepped closer to the red headed woman sitting on the floor.

"Are you okay, Miss?" She did not turn to look at you as she began to shake uncontrollably. You noticed there was a puddle of blood in the doorway as you moved closer. "Miss?"

"He's... dead." The woman muttered out while still staring into the room she was about to enter. You crept ever so slowly to look inside, but what you saw made you drop your plate.

It was a blood bath.

The whole room was coated in blood. The body of a man had been contorted in an unnatural way. It was something you had never seen or heard about before in any case. Murder like this was not murder, but something else entirely.

"What the hell?" Was all you heard before you suddenly found yourself being pulled from the scene by a hand on your arm.

#murder mystery with the devil may cry gang #sorry it took so long #polls #interactive fanfiction #devil may cry #dante #dmc #fanfic #devil may cry fanfiction #dante sparda #devil may cry 5 #vergil

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