This is probably one really stupid idea and I am aware there are stories out there that start the same typical way as mine, but it is different and I'm at the stage where I just want to share my ideas with everyone, and honest to god, I have no idea if Dante is OOC here. If anyone has any constructive criticism that's cool with me.

Anyway, moving on. There is some adult situations and strong language here. I hope you enjoy the prologue. Please give this story a shot. Reviews are always appreciated.

SIREN

"Mmphhh…"

She awoke to warm sunlight flooding in through the gaps of the drawn blinds, then blinked tiredly, and rubbed at her eyes groggily as she glanced around.

Where am I…?

She was in an unfamiliar room…

…in an unfamiliar bed…

Immediately, she gasped and sat up. The strong, thick, muscled arm that was draped around her waist flopped to her lap. She threw her gaze down, her jaw hanging in mid-air, and she gawped with widened eyes at the giant fist, her trembling eyes staring at the callous fingers and the half-bitten fingernails. The arm belonged to a man who was snoozing beside her (the entire time!), his face shielded by the pillow as well as sinewy strands of silvery-white hair that curled to his shoulders. Her stomach tightened when he let out an inaudible groan, grumbling about 'strawberry sundaes' or whatnot, but then he gradually settled into silence, snoring lightly. Confused, she inched away from the stranger as slowly and quietly as she could, before she carefully lifted up the blanket once again, and glanced down at herself.

Naked…

She was completely and utterly naked!

Jaw dropping for the second time, she hastily slipped out of the bed and draped the blanket to cover her previous spot. Once her feet touched the dirty tiled floor, she rubbed at her toes with her other foot and shivered, then glanced around. Where was she? What was this place? Why did it smell so funny…? The room was a complete mess… the bed itself was a mess. It was pushed against the wall under the window and the man who still hadn't thankfully awakened didn't even fit. She could see his feet sticking out from under the covers… What a sloppy place…The tiled floor was littered in CD cases, clothes, empty Jack Daniel's bottles, socks and old music magazines. The walls were peeling and the corners were yellow, with cracks in the ceiling too, and an old, dusty fan was swinging above them. She swallowed down lightly as soon as her eyes caught sight of the poster of a topless woman stuck on the door that apparently led to the hall. As the ill feelings and disgust continued to surmount in the pit of her gut, she stepped back and her heel dug into something wet and mushy.

Throwing her gaze down shakily, she realised she had stepped into a slice of mouldy pizza.

As she lifted her foot and stared with a twitching eye at the smelly cheese and tomato sauce dripping off her heel and onto the floor, she felt tingly shivers run down her spine and whimpered. It was then she also realised she didn't remember anything from last night…except that it hurt a lot 'down there', there were a pile of tiny, empty plastic wrappers, and there were a lot of clothes carelessly strewn around. Hm, what could that possibly indicate?

Panicking, she hopped away from the festering food and empty wrappers and grabbed the first item of clothing she laid her eyes on - a black shirt - that was hanging off a broken chair and stepped over to the medium-sized cracked mirror that was hanging on the wall.

She stared at her reflection, inspecting herself anxiously.

She had long brown hair, and green eyes. She looked normal enough. She brushed away her bangs to see a large bruise on the top of her forehead, near her hairline. She rubbed at it with her finger gently and winced when it hurt. She tried to remember what may have happened but nothing came up.

Nothing.

Then, her eyes widened upon the realisation.

I can't remember. No, not just that.…What's my name? She blanched. She didn't know…she couldn't remember. How old am I? I-I don't know that either. Where do I live? Where are my family? Who am I?

She began to panic, and turned to the shelf beside her; she found a brown bag, grabbed it, checked if it was empty, before breathing laboriously into it. Once she regained her breath and calmed her nerves, she heard the man on the bed grumbling incoherently again, and she stepped away from the mirror, then instinctively squatted down on the floor, watching the man keenly from her safe level.

He was waking up!

She heard the silver-haired man let out a low, rumbling groan from the back of his throat before he rolled to the side, patting the empty space beside him. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up, the covers falling off him to reveal a fine, sculpted chest. Now that she had a better, closer look of him, she found that he was attractive. Very attractive. Handsome. No, those words did not even do him justice. She found herself staring at him, transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight before her.

"Babe?" He slurred; he was searching for her blindly. No doubt, he was probably still half-asleep, or maybe drunk. "…Baby, where are you?"

She snapped out of her staring stupor and looked up; when he spotted her, his lips tugged upwards into a devious smirk. He lowered himself over the blanket, his face inches from her and she routinely moved backwards in response. He was…maybe a little older than her. He was definitely handsome, yes, but she knew more than to judge a book by its cover.

"There you are, babe. What are you doing down there?" purred the sexy, silver-haired man; he held a lot of affection in his voice and she continued to stare at him numbly, if not, a little warily. "C'mon, crawl back in with me. It's getting cold without you to warm me up, baby."

As he reached over to touch her; she automatically ducked away from him, "Who are you?" She asked.

He began chuckling, "Babe. It's too early in the morning for games."

"Who are you?" She asked again.

"You don't remember?"

She didn't respond, except give him another blank stare.

The man chuckled louder and returned to lie on the mattress, settling down with his arms clasped behind his head on the pillow. "Damn. You must've hit your head pretty bad last night."

She touched her bruise. "What happened last night?"

"What do you think? We were-"

"No-" She didn't want to listen and turned away.

"-and you banged your head off the headboard." He finished.

She flinched. "That's impossible. I don't believe you. I wouldn't do that. Not with a stranger."

He turned to face her. "Baby, we're not strangers. I saved your life last night and you wanted to reward me. Now are you going to get in and get warm with me or are you going to freeze your ass out there? C'mon, I could do with another round."

Biting down on her lip, she stood up hastily. Without a word, she spun on her heel and ran out of the room, clutching the black shirt to herself. Oh, so that was what she was. A prostitute. A whore. She couldn't believe it…

"You're leaving me? After everything we went through together last night? Tch, so cold…" He mused leisurely with a grin; but when she didn't come back, he glanced up. "…Babe?"

"Stop calling me that!"

She sounded far away. He abruptly got up and rolled off the bed to follow her, grabbing his jeans that were discarded near the foot of the bed before he began stuffing his legs into each respective pant-leg. He left his room to see that she was already halfway down the stairs. "Damn it." He cursed loudly.

She ignored him as he pursued after her; she buttoned up the shirt as she trampled down the stairs but she stumbled on the last step thanks to her oily heel (from stepping into the pizza slice from before), and promptly rolled down and collapsed to the ground. After she quickly picked herself up, she glanced around the large, spacious lounge. There was a desk at the far end of the room along with a dusty, dirty sofa, a fridge and a jukebox. Numerous skulls of strange monsters and creatures she had never seen before were hanging up on the wall beside a pink neon sign saying 'CLOSED' that was crackling with electricity from a stinted wire. Eventually, she found what appeared to be the front door and she made a frantic dash towards it; as soon her hand landed on the handle, she turned back round, spotting the half-dressed, but still-shirtless man at the top of the stairs.

"Babe, don't do that. You'll break my heart if you leave." He called down, holding his arms up questioningly before he lifted himself up to sit on the wooden banister, "Calm down, alright? Hear me out first."

She turned to the door, then swerved her gaze to the man again. Her hand impulsively tightened on the handle.

"I get it, I get it. You've woken up. You hit your head pretty hard and you can't remember. You're scared. You haven't had anything to eat…and right now, you're naked, you have no money, and you have no home, so why don't you step away from the door, and – " He stopped to sigh under his breath, "Listen. You were up for sale at the auction because your previous owner was killed, and I saved you from a gang of black market traders. For now, you are living here, and I'm looking after you."

"Here? What is here? What is this place? Who are you?"

He ran his free hand through his unruly hair while she stood in his black shirt. Damn, she looked pretty hot in his clothes. He said, "My name is Dante. I'm a devil hunter."

"Devil... hunter?" She cocked her head to the side in response.

"Yeah. You know, things that go bump in the night. The monster in the closet. The thing under the bed. I hunt them, and this is my shop." Then he added, "I'm not a bad guy." He mentally kicked himself for saying that; it didn't sound like something he would say at all, and if Lady or Trish were here, they'd be laughing at him until their sides hurt.

She was still staring at him with those large, waif-like eyes of her, but then – "I have no idea what you're talking about." She turned away and jerked open the door, then slammed it shut behind her.

"Ah…" He began, as he stared at the door; his fist clenched tightly and he rammed it against the wall. "Damn. Smooth move, Dante."

He proceeded to leap off the rail and land on the floor with a loud 'thud!'; the walls shook from the impact and one of the skulls fell off its hook, clattering to the ground. He didn't seem to care. Striding in long, heavy steps, he casually strolled over to the coat rack and grabbed his red trenchcoat off one of the hooks and pulled it over himself, before reaching for a large gray sword that was perched atop a rack.

"Well," He mused, as he swung the hefty sword over his shoulder with minimal effort, "Better get the merchandise back…"