– Prologue –
"I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, "who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty."
— Revelations 1:8
In a dark room, a lone boy in his early teens sat on a bench hunchbacked, hair still wet from the shower he had taken only minutes prior. A plain white towel lay on his head to obscure his vision and to prevent others from seeing his features, but still allows them to make out a thin frame that has grown to be accustomed to running, complimented by four claw scars across his chest. By his side are the priests' vestments he is to wear from this day forth.
Slowly, the boy stood up and finished drying his hair, revealing snow white hair and icy blue eyes. He donned the given clothes, however uncomfortable they may be, and made his way out of the room.
Today would mark his first day as an exorcist of the Church. He wasn't a Christian, and his thoughtless attitude towards the sanctified cloth only proved it further. So why would he be here in the headquarters of a militant church order, if he isn't as faithful as he believes himself to be?
It all started on a cold night in Italy…
The usual kind of night, really. It's dark, it's cold, and everyone is in a hurry to not stay outside. Perfect setting for a burglar or thief to conveniently bump into others and slickly take what isn't theirs and make their way out of reach from an unsuspecting, ignorant victim.
"…So thirsty…" a figure breathed out, red eyes flashing left and right at the many delicacies that were walking around. So leisurely, so defenselessly… so willfully ignorant of what is in front of them. Saliva threatened to drip from her mouth as she set her eyes on a modest establishment. It doesn't matter if a small shop like that disappears overnight, will it? Of course it won't.
And so the tale of this unfortunate boy begins.
"You wouldn't mind not going to that place, would you?" a voice interrupted "I'm actually quite fond of that place."
The feminine figure turned to the boy who called out to her. He was wearing a gray hoodie that hid his frame, but she could make out the eyes. His smile told her how weak he is. And the shaking, whether it be from fear or the cold, it didn't matter to her.
"It appears I've happened upon a tasty little morsel," her red eyes scanned the approaching young man hungrily and found itself drawn, "Those eyes…" she drank in the sight of those succulent, ice blue eyes, "…oh, the blood… it sings to me…" his figure is hidden by that gray hoodie, but she could tell that he is very well-built underneath, "…such an aroma that can't be possibly ignored…!"
He smiled disarmingly, moving a hand behind his back. Inside however, he is sweating. 'This is bad', the man thought to himself nervously. Of all things to meet at night, why did it have to be a bloody vampire? 'Why aren't the local exorcists doing anything about this? I mean, the Vatican is right next to this place, for crying out loud!'
"And what is this blood telling you to do now, vampire? To drink it and bask in… whatever vocabulary words you have?" he continued, keeping up his charade. If he can alert those Church hunters without having to go through the trouble of fighting the vampire, he can still live quite peacefully for a couple more weeks.
"Ahaha~ oh no," she gasped out, ecstasy dripping from her voice, her lips curling sickly upwards, "I don't care if I'm found by the Vatican anymore!" The monster bared her fangs, fingers bending outlandishly into talons and looking absolutely rapey. "I will drink all of that irresistible blood of yours, boy!"
…On second thought, he can always engage. He preferred his fluid inside himself, thank you very much.
"Oh, is that so?" he nonchalantly replied, taking a Tommy gun out from his back and leveled it at-
The vampire widened her eyes, and the sound of a safety switch flicked.
She jerked and twitched as the young man blew a shower of white-hot load all over her submissive body.
"HRAAAAAH!" he roared, continuing to unload his automatic gun at his adversary. Civilians nearby screamed, the sound of gunfire frightening some away while others cowered and prayed that they did not get hit. The force behind the bullets eventually sent the vampire flying and crashing through a shop window, shattering glass everywhere inside and out.
Soon, the clicks of an empty machine gun filled the air around.
He walked his way down the corridor, trying to make out the signs that led to where his orientation and subsequent indoctrination into the league of hunters of the Church would be. Never did he imagine he would be working for the Church again. Not since the last one was liquidated and its core members nowhere to be seen again, and all his fellow participants scattering to other places to… do whatever.
One of them, last he heard, even became an exorcist of the Church. And was subsequently excommunicated afterwards. He didn't really care much for that.
What matters is that he's now in the care of the Church, and now one of their many pawns. The young man didn't really care about his position. He's alive, and it'll be alright for him. No need to be a hero and go out to risk his life for others. Let the other so-called "heroes" do it. He's fine with being a common mook.
So where is this chamber he has to go to? No idea, even with the signs.
…He's totally lost.
There has to be someone who knows the way around. Doesn't even have to be completely specific, just a general direction to go in. Someone who looks authentic and looks like he runs this place, a chief if you must… well, there's only one person close to him in this corridor right now, and he's right there. The specified man appears to be in his middle age, dressed sharply in clean vestments and has black hair. He seems to be a diligent man, and has a calm, composed, and serious expression plastered on his feature.
Putting on a cheerful and polite smile, he walked towards the man and asked without stumbling,
"Excuse me? Do you know where I can find where the recruits are being indoctrinated?" The man turned and stared at him with narrow eyes, as if to make out any imperfections. A glimmer passed through his eyes in recognition.
"You must be our newest addition," he said. "State your name, boy." At that, the teen saluted.
"Frost Ziegler. At your service, sir."
'Alright, so that's a thing. Now that I've bought some time for myself, I should clear these people away…' the boy turned his eyes toward the gathering bystanders, both the ones drawn towards the sound and those escaping the shop the vampire is now in.
"H-He's a murderer!"
"Help! He'll kill us all!"
"What have you done, you monster?!"
"Holy fucking shit!"
Frost ignored the collective, rising yells of 'Murderer!' and 'She's dead!' and other similar outcries and quickly reloaded his gun, and proceeds to fire at the feet of the crowd, scaring them away from the scene. It was much faster to scare them away than to try and calm them down enough to make them move away. Now the local police are going to be after his ass and be on their way to clean up this mess.
Or not. He knew how vampires worked. And vampires don't die from an entire casing of lead bullets. It has to be silver bullets. Or blessed bullets, for that matter. And he doubted that the local church will just bless drum magazines full of live .45 ACP rounds and leave it at that.
As for silver, he's on a budget. Damn it all.
"Tch!" he clicked his tongue irritably as a familiar chilling itch invaded his palm. He stepped through the shattered window as the vampire rose from the ground, bullet wounds mending quickly from the onslaught.
"Ohohoho, that is just cute! The little boy thinks he can go up against me~!" the vampire laughed tauntingly. Frost quickly began to dig up whatever knowledge he knew about tactics against vampires. Holy water is anathema to vampires, no doubt about that, but he doesn't have any on him. Garlic simply repulses them and doesn't serve as anything better than a minor deterrent, despite what popular beliefs say. Crosses function in a similar manner as garlic. Silver is self-explanatory. Bible verses are basically a weaker version of holy water… and there are only a few he knew to heart. Aside from all that though, vampires can regenerate quickly just like in the movies, but their body can only recover if the brain is intact…
He stared down at the couple dented bullets that lay on the ground and looked around the shop. Lead bullets cannot penetrate a vampire's skin, huh? That only means he got lucky for the ones that did get inside her. Clogs in his mind whirred, and he made a decision.
Alright, that's step one down. Now he has to come up with a plan now that she is, no doubt, about to go into a long monologue about how she's going to rip out his entrails and drink from his intestines and whatever colorful diction the supernatural has to dish out these days.
The woman dug a finger sensually into one of her hole, peeling off whatever rancid flesh made up her leg, and allowing the lead to fall out on its own. Alright, he didn't know anything about vampire behaviors, but if this is one of their ways to intimidate or repulse their enemy, then she succeeded. That's just disgusting.
"…If you aren't going to do anything-"
He snapped out of his thoughts. She had already sprung forth, salivating mouth open and ready to be filled. His body reacted.
"Then I'll be digging in-"
She bit down… and met nothing. When she opened her eyes, she found the stock of the Tommy gun flying towards her face. It connected against her mouth, resulting in the unpleasant sound of bone crushing.
"AAARGH!" she shrieked, both hands shooting towards her mouth to stem some blood from escaping, "MY TEETH! YOU BROKE MY TEE-"
"KYAAAH! Frost was not proud nor was he ashamed to admit that he pretty much screamed like a little girl, ramming the Tommy gun's butt at her head with all his might. She flew again, but this time, regained her bearing in midair and flipped onto her feet onto a coffee table. This time, the vampire was prepared for the bullets that flew her way, dodging fluidly as she made her way to him, intending to rip him apart. She did not anticipate her prey suddenly throwing his gun at her, which while she did dodge, she did not anticipate him grabbing her head by the hair roughly and slamming his knee repeatedly at her mouth.
She screamed in pain again, a primal rage settling in. This brat… this ingrate! Her screams allowed Frost to grab his tossed gun in midair and shoot at her, this time at her eyes. She couldn't dodge, as her anger did not allow her to think about dodging but to instead block and hold out until he runs out of his damn pellets to charge at him. Lead bullets are of no concern to her, so why does it matter if some entered her?
The moment the hail of bullets stopped was her cue to strike. The vampire gave out a deranged laugh as she flew towards him and grabbed hold of his gun and threw it far away. Now weaponless, she swiped ferociously at him, ripping the hoodie into pieces and spilling blood across the pavement and walls. She rejoiced at the sight of the familiar red viscous splatters and gave a triumphant laugh.
Frost fell back to the floor, gasping and clasping onto his wounded chest. Damn, her claws went deep. "You never stood a chance, sweetie~" she cooed mockingly, making her way towards the wounded boy who was slowly inching away from her. The projectiles that had penetrated her were slowly pushed out as she regenerated to full health, "Don't worry. I'll be sure to take good care of your body when I'm done with you."
"Well, that's reassuring," he snarked.
"Of course, dear! You lost your weapon. You're losing blood by the second. And at any moment now, you will lose consciousness," the vampire stated condescendingly, her vampiric features receding into a dark, seductive expression that if Frost had not known that she was a vampire, he would have found it really hot. But alas. "And I stand here, with everything you've done for naught. What can you do, human?"
Frost sighed and stood up shakily, "Then it looks like I have no choice. I have to use my secret weapon."
That caught the vampire's attention and wiped the smirk on her face. He still has more? Well, no matter. "Please humor me. I will bring me great pleasure to spill your blood once more."
"I'll give you a hint. It involves using my legs," he patted them for emphasis. If she had paid more attention, she would have noticed that they had stopped shaking.
"And then?" she prepared herself for the imminent confrontation. His eyes gleamed.
"I run away," immediately, he bolted, as if he had not even been wounded moments ago, into the alleyway next to him.
Again, the vampire was slow to react to the nonsequitar that just occurred. "…Hmm. So he was faking his shock all along," she observed now that her blood rage has simmered down. For a human, losing a pint of blood will cause lightheadedness regardless of whether they had participated in strenuous activities or not. For her target, he'll probably last a few minutes before he retires, "How cunning of him… but all in vain, regardless."
She looked down at her stained hands. His blood is still fresh in her memories. The smell is so, so… exquisite. How can a human have blood of such high quality? She must have it. Must have more! More! Her pants slowly became moans of pleasure as she licked the blood on her claws. It sent shocks through her entire body.
"Frost Ziegler?" the man repeated, curiosity sparking in his now-softened eyes, "That's a... curious name."
"Yeah. People had taken to calling me 'Zieg' thinking I'm a descendant of that Sigurd before," Frost admitted, following the man guiding him to his meeting area, "As nice as that sounds, I'm not a hero's descendant."
"Really?" the man hummed thoughtfully, gesturing him to follow. The two walked down the corridor in silence, the man turning his eyes towards the younger of the two from time to time whilst the other ventured without much to add. "…I suppose I should start early then. I am Ewald Cristaldi, Cardinal Deacon and Left Hand of the Pontiff. I will be the teacher and mentor of every rookie exorcists for the time being. That extends to you as well, Ziegler."
Frost blinked. Well, he never thought he would meet such a big gun from the Church so early in his career. "Oh." Now he feels a tad awkward. "...Should I refer to you as Your Eminence, or...?"
"By all means, continue speaking to me as you had before when it's only the two of us together. It is refreshing to have a young one speak to me so casually."
"Well, don't mind if I do then, teach."
Frost slowed down as he made his way towards a particular door in another alley. Hurriedly fumbling at the lock with a pick and a makeshift tension wrench, he got in and locked and bolted the door. Wherever he is, it'll do until he stops his bleeding. Damn, the she-demon dug deep. His heart nearly got grazed. At this rate, he might lose consciousness if he doesn't get bandaged up quick.
Getting caught for breaking and entering is already a crime, but compared to evisceration by vampire claws, he preferred getting caught by the former. "Don't mind if I come in," he whispered as he walked quietly about.
…Alright, inventory check. On his being, he has a folding knife, some grenades that he really didn't want to detonate, and some steel wire. What he could do with all of these, he can probably improvise if the vamp tries to chase him… no, when the vamp catches up to him. These wires can pull the pins from the grenades, now the real question is HOW he will wrap the wires that will be most effective.
Oh, and he'll need to retrieve his Tommy gun once all of this blows over. He likes that gun. It costed him a fortune to get, and he isn't exactly willing to part with an antique like that.
Some bandages would be nice, though. He turned towards a wall, getting a good glimpse from a mirror of the marks across his chest. If he hadn't gone into shock yet, maybe he is now, because he's seeing a lot of his doubles. He turned around to look at the bunch of doubles. They're everywhere, from his right… to his left… up above… down below…
He raised a hand to scratch his nose to confirm his thoughts, which all the other Frosts did in tandem with him. Never mind, false alarm… well, that was still pretty embarrassing. Still, this setup can be useful for him. It will be his new trap against that crazy psycho bitch.
He better get started once he patches himself up.
…Or better yet, NOW. Those windows definitely didn't shatter themselves.
"Come out, come out, my dear little rat," he heard the vampire sing condescendingly. He quickly took off what remained of his hoodie and tied it tightly around his torso, creating an improvised bandage and began the layout of his plan, "It will be nice and quick death if you come out now."
He'd rather not. He dug a hand underneath his hoodie to get his hand bloodied a good amount, and promptly flicked it in a random direction and walked to his intended location. If what he remembered about vampires are true, their senses become very honed whenever blood is involved, and the most dominant is the sense of smell, second being sight. With him bleeding out as it is, no doubt he'll be tracked down and killed, so even if it only buys him a few seconds, he can still mislead that monster. Vampires, particularly feral ones, tend to follow the easier path when put on the spot, and this particular one has a rather one-tracked mind compared to the ones in stories he heard.
"There you are~!" he heard, along with the crashing of a table and chair. This plan won't have to take long after all. "…You are actually starting to piss me off, human. You must believe you are really clever if you think you can just play with my smell. Well, you're not, you hear me!? NOT!"
She seemingly felt a disturbance in the air and eagerly whipped a claw around to swipe at the object thrown at her. It detonated before she could do anything, though, sending shrapnel of lacerating metals across her undead body. Again, she roared in pain, understandably losing her calm and turning to rage as a response to the trick.
"You little shit! When I find you, I will tear off your head and use it as an ornamental piece on my bedstand!" she made a statement he hasn't heard before, so props to her.
There, that should do it. He made one final adjustment to his plan and now… here comes the part he wished he didn't have to do: coming out into the open.
The vampire didn't expect Frost to come out of his hiding place, but then again, what did it matter? He is going to die. Slowly, she raised a hand pointed like a spear towards her prey, and the talons extended, piercing Frost at the head, heart, and shoulders. An attack a human cannot survive without enhancements. "And so it ends. It was worthwhile as it lasted, human. Now die like one, by the hands of a greater being."
"Heheh," he chuckled, alerting the vampire once more.
"W-what?" she snarled, clearly not expecting him to still be standing. In fact, there wasn't any blood coming out!
"You must be wondering, 'how is this pathetic human still standing after getting a hole in his head?'," Frost smiled rather joyously at his enemy's predicament. "Take a look again, woman, and tell me what you see." Frost took great pleasure in seeing his adversary looking about and realizing what is happening.
His plan was to stand at the correct angle behind the vampire in front of a large mirror. When her sense of smell failed her, she turned to her sense of sight and focused solely on it, thus allowing Frost to stand behind her without alerting her to his presence.
"This… this is a mirror shop!" the vampire seethed, the sight of her prey seemingly multiplied enraging her further. She cursed the fact that vampires couldn't be seen through mirrors, and she cursed the brat who dared to stand up against her. How dare he. How dare he!
"That's right, lady. It's a mirror shop. You can't tell who is what, not without a reflection of your own to help you." She spotted one of them throw a grenade at her. She scoffed. As if it will ever touch her. She swiftly weaved her hand around it and deflected it back at the boy… but she failed to notice the strings attached to that grenade that pulled the pins of so many other grenades of other varieties behind her.
"And you can't even survive against the tactics born from the cities!" he laughed at her. All the images laughed alongside him, mocking her. "Look at the grenade carefully, woman!"
Finally, she noticed the explosives that have rolled underneath her, each and every one of them with pins attached to strings pulled out. Eyes shot wide in horror.
"You… You!" the vampire screeched her last words.
"The name is Frost Ziegler. Remember that when the grim reaper asks who brought you to him."
She lets out an inhuman death wail as the grenades underneath exploded.
Frost leapt out in time, but still got blown out of the building and onto the streets in an unceremonious manner. Coughing and swiping at the air to clear his view, his mind hazy from blood loss, he dizzily got up with great difficulty and walked away from the building as casually as he could, staying out of view as he did.
'…Okay, so nothing tonight went as planned at all. I completely underestimated the kickback of those grenades.' Frost looked down as his chest and smiled grimly at his chest wound, noting that it had been exacerbated by the amount of work and force on his body. Turns out fragmentation and incendiary grenades should never mix together, though that may have been him miscalculating the amount of TNT filler in the former.
Either way, this is just fucking great. Forget surviving the encounter, he might actually die from the blood loss.
…Huh. And here he thought that he would go into shock at the thought of dying. Fucking crazy-ass vampire. If she hadn't been after his life, he might have been attracted to her. She was even his type.
He arrived at a building and entered. How he managed to get back to his dingy apartment without fainting along the way, which is rather far away from the ruined building if he thought about it, he doesn't know, but it is rather convenient. What he really needs now is to get to his bathroom, properly treating his wounds, and then sleep off his injuries like a really bad hangover.
Frost walked languidly into his bathroom and loosened the hoodie around his chest. Good God, there's blood everywhere. At least his wound wasn't leaking at the moment. He made a reminder to burn his hoodie first thing in the morning. Why did he even think about fighting a vampire at night? …Oh, right. It's because he has no clue where it would sleep. He supposed it was part of his good luck that it wasn't a Daywalker.
Anyways, back to his wound. Whatever bacteria and diseases the vampire had on her claws, it needs to be disinfected right away. He opened the mirror and got out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some cotton balls, a suture needle, and a roll of suture thread. With careful focus, he soaked the cotton balls and began cleaning and ridding his body of the dried blood. Once he made sure that he cleaned off every speck of blood from his body, he took a deep breath and threaded the needle, sewing close the four gaping wounds on his chest region.
It's a good thing he is numb to the pain, otherwise he would be flinching and screaming at every moment he dabbed his wound with the blistering alcohol and stitched his wound along the way. It took a good hour to finally close all four of them, and once he was appropriately patched up, he fell onto his bed.
He can deal with the fallout that is inevitable the next day. He has earned this rest, he thought as sleep overcame him without issue.
"I was scouted by one of your guy… girl, I mean. It felt kind of weird to wake up and find someone sitting on your couch first thing in the morning," Frost admitted to his superior.
"Ah. Did she treat you well?"
"Let's just say that she wasn't exactly the warmest of individuals and leave it at that. I get the feeling she might be watching me from afar and will plan whatever righteous feminine wrath on me if I talk bad about her."
Cristaldi chuckled lightly at his statement, "How considerate of you."
"Not really. I just like being careful," Frost shrugged.
The Deacon nodded, "That just leaves me with one more question. Why did you accept the offer to join?" The younger of the two appeared confused. "You didn't have to accept. You would still be under our watch, but the prospect of an alliance or contract with the Church would not be far away from your reach. So why is it that you decided to join and become a part of it instead?"
Frost paused to ponder that question. Why indeed? He decided that this is a time to be honest… well, as honest as he can be without revealing his intentions.
"I… well, I'll be truthful. I'm not one for vows and celibacy, so I believe my chances of becoming a legitimate priest is close to nil," Frost answered honestly. "But I believe that I will get what I wish for if I join the ranks of the exorcist. I can still achieve that same wish if I remained as I was before, but having something to back me up without question is monumentally better."
"So you want to combat the darkness alongside your fellow men, but in the name of God," Cristaldi stated. Frost nodded, intentionally not correcting the man's assumption.
After all, his mind is saying, 'I want to be safe and sound within the confines of a massive organization where I will live long and prosper without any worry for my life.' But no one needs to know that. Nevertheless, his previous statement is still the truth. His wish is to "be safe", and he'll get it if he joins the Church.
Linguistics is a dirty bitch.
Cristaldi breathed out slowly, "Pity. I was hoping you would not have to join our fray." Frost froze. Wait, what? So it wasn't necessary to join as an exorcist? He only had to masquerade as a priest to keep living comfortably? "But you have managed to not only confront a vampire that has eluded even the greatest of trackers in the Church, but also neutralize her albeit in the most widespread manner I've ever seen in the last 12 years as Deacon. Your skill set would truly be more attuned towards eliminating the enemies of mankind instead."
Bastard-mother-taco-fuck. He severely wished he could travel back in time now, just to undo this massive mistake.
"I will respect your decision, Ziegler. So let me be the first to welcome you as an exorcist of the Church, and as a hand that will carry out His will," Ewald Cristaldi extended a hand to Frost, who took it and shook hard. "I expect great things from you, son. Don't dash them as others already have."
'That dirty… she tricked me, didn't she?!' "I'll do my best, sir," Frost's thought and what he said did not line up with each other, but regardless he managed to keep a jolly smile.
'Great. This is what I get for being honest just once.'
A/N: Alright, so here's the sitrep. The reason I'm writing an OC-centric story again is actually really meta. I've wanted to write a story about the Angel and Church faction of DxD because sadly, they almost never get any proper screen time. This story will have a lot of influence in how I write the exorcists in Son of Sparda DxD (and if anyone can see where I draw my inspiration of them from, kudos to you). Now you see why this is really fucking meta? Take it as you will.
So no Issei. No Devil peerage joining, especially. This is an entirely original story depicting the exorcists' side of the story, and my (and Frost's) unholy perspective of the Church Faction and its higher echelon, Angel Faction. Oh, and meet Frost Ziegler. He's not your average protagonist.
With that said and done, review! I must be fed reviews in order to motivate myself to write! And review again!
-DarkAkatsuk1, being a selfish prick and starting a new story when he has other more important things he's supposed to do, the lazyass.