"Why are you following me?"

Luka froze. How had she known? He'd been so careful; he'd kept a safe distance from her and worn silent soled shoes. There was no way she could have heard him following her.

She stood and waited patiently for him to answer, one slender gloved hand resting casually on a shapely jutted out hip. The other hand was teasing a purple butterfly shaped lollipop into her mouth. It danced temptingly across her lips then disappeared into her mouth, before reemerging again, coating her lips in a sweet, sticky gloss…

"Well?"

The sudden question snapped Luka back to reality and without even realising it he'd emerged from his hiding place and he'd been staring at her, out in the open. What was worse was that he'd actually stopped breathing for a minute. She was completely disarming. She'd caught him off guard and within seconds had him under her spell. Like a butterfly to the flower, he'd followed her obediently, blindly with little to no regard for his own safety. Except this flower had thorns and her scent was alluring as it was deadly. Luka knew all too well how deadly she was…

His own father had been driven to reckless obsession trying to find out more about her and it had taken his life. Or more specifically, she had taken his life. Luka was nine at the time and he could remember it like it was yesterday. The sun gently warming the river bank, the smell of nature and his father promising they'd go get ice cream after he was done looking in the river.

I won't be long Luka, I'll be right back.

Except he never did return, instead a dark figure had exploded from the river bed; black like a nightmare with long dark hair that seemed to absorb all the surrounding light. It had turned and looked Luka straight in the eye before killing his father right in front of him.

The memory was making Luka's breathing ragged and he had to unclench his fists: his nails were cutting crescent moons into his palms. Slowly Luka looked directly into the eyes of the beguiling monster in front of him. It was hard to believe that he was face to face with a murderer. Still, small part of him almost didn't believe she was a killer. It was faint but something stirred inside him, feeding him small spoonful's of doubt. She looked dangerous that was for sure but she didn't seem like a cold blooded murderer. Besides, the idea that murderers licked little purple butterflies disturbed him.

Speaking of which, she was still licking the damn thing, slowly, as if savouring more than just its sugary flavour. She was exploring its shape with her moist, pink, tongue…

Shit.

Luka has been staring again. He knew it and she knew it, as evident by the amused smirk on her face. He glared at her and before he could stop himself an angry growl escaped his throat. Immediately her partially amused expression changed, her eyes darkened and her smirk grew even wider.

"Oh my little cat has claws. How cute." She purred.

"I am NOT a cat. Least of all yours. My name is Luka." he hissed.

She raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing. Instead she peered over her glasses which had now slipped to the edge of her nose as she studied him from his heels to his head. Probing, lingering and calculating… It was unnerving to say the least and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Are you the one they call Bayonetta?" Luka asked carefully.

Now if Luka hadn't been watching her intently he would have missed the invisible shift behind her eyes. Like a wild cat stalking through the jungle, silent, barely seen yet visible for only a heartbeat before disappearing into the undergrowth. It was all he needed as confirmation. He knew it was her. In fact, he'd known it was her even before he'd been caught.

That face, that stature, those eyes… There was no doubt about it. She was the one who had killed his father. Almost 20 years later, he still recognised that face. It had haunted his dreams, plagued his thoughts and possessed his life. Completely and utterly. Luka knew this was his only chance, she had to be exposed for the demon that she was. However he also knew that she was more than he could handle. He'd heard the rumours. He wasn't stupid and he wasn't going to take her on alone. He needed back up, he needed proof.

He needed to take a photo.

Then his editor would believe him, and then police would take him seriously. They thought he was crazy and regularly told him so. They hadn't been able to find such a woman on record, ever, which confirmed to them that Luka had indeed lost his mind. However this revelation had only fuelled Luka's infatuation.

There are no known public records of a woman named Bayonetta ever existing.

Yet here she was in the flesh. It hadn't been a nightmare. It really had happened and now after years of chasing after shadows and hitting dead ends – he'd found her. Roaming casually around the streets of Metropolis no less! This was it, his only chance. Conveniently Luka was a journalist and being a journalist meant Luka was used to hiding cameras on his person. All he had to do was distract her long enough to whip out his hidden camera and snap a photo of her, before making a fast getaway with his grappling hook.

"And if I am?" she teased back.

"Then you are the one who killed my father!" Luka roared.

Immediately he flicked his wrist and released the hidden camera from the inside of his coat sleeve. A practiced movement that he was confident in. He'd done it a million times before, he'd timed it and perfected it. There was no way she'd be able to avoid it.

Suddenly she was behind him. Impossibly fast. Inhumanly fast. A strong hand clamping down on the camera he clasped in his right hand and a steady hand aiming a handgun upwards, into the underside of his chin. The butterfly lollipop - gone.

No way...

For the third time that day Luka stopped breathing. Obviously because there was a gun held to his head but also because she was pressing herself up against his back, rather closely. So close he could feel all the nuances and contours of her own body against his. The strength in her hand entwined in his, the strands of her hair brushing against his neck, the smoothness of her skin against his cheek and the sheer magnetism that radiated off her was… overwhelming. And exhilarating.

"Why are you following me Cheshire puss? What is it you want?" she whispered like steel wrapped in silk.

"Ha! I'd tell you but I don't kiss n' tell on a blind date."

Bayonetta smirked again before replying, "Hmmm, neither do I. However…"

Luka thought he was going to have a heart attack. Because not only was she pressed up against him, her face was now moving closer towards his and he was powerless to stop it! Her hands and limbs where like a vice, he could not escape and her perfume was like a toxin that made him weaker. He was going to die. Right here and now. Nobody would stop her in time. In fact, nobody had passed by for hours, it was like they were the only two people who existed in this world. She was going to work her magic and take his soul. He knew it. He'd be as good as dead.

Surrendering himself to this thought and his fate, Luka relaxed. He stood and enjoyed the sensation of his "Fleur de Cirey" scented reaper enveloping him. He said a small prayer of forgiveness to his father and allowed himself the guilty pleasure of her body. The feel of her breasts… soft, firm and rubbing tortuously against his back through a thin material he did not recognise. Finally he thought to himself,

If death is to take me today, then I am thankful that she's beautiful.

The press of lips against his cheek however was not what he was expecting and the sensation caused him to open his eyes in alarm. It had all happened so fast! First she was threatening him, then she was kissing him? Was nothing about this woman predictable!?

"… I have a feeling we will meet again Cheshire and that this will be the first of many dates."

Then she was gone.

…Like a dream.

Except, it really hadn't been a dream. The sticky, wet, stain in his cheek reminded him otherwise. She had been real. He had seen her. He had touched her. He had been so close. Miserably he gazed down at the broken wreck of parts that had once been his camera. The device was beyond saving.

He had no idea how she disappeared. If he hadn't been so stunned by the kiss he'd had been searching around frantically in confusion. Deep down inside though, he knew it was pointless. She was gone and it meant months of hunting her down again. Absently he pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket and started to rub off the stain. Pulling away he couldn't help but notice that the cloth smelt of violets. He sniffed it gingerly. butterfly must have tasted like violets too.

He scowled and pocketed the offending thing. Hoping it'd provide some form proof, although he highly doubted it. After all, everything surrounding this woman was a mystery and giving a stranger fresh evidence of her own existence was too easy and after months of chasing her all over the world he knew she was anything but. Still he would keep it.

Cheshire.

She had called him that.

He smirked at the memory.

If I am your Cheshire cat, then there is no Wonderland you can hide in where I won't find you Bayonetta…

Fin.

Author Notes

This short story is based on the video game Bayonetta. It's one of my favourite games because the gameplay is so fantastically over the top and the characters have so much personality.

This story is centred around Luka and Bayonetta's first encounter. Or how I envisioned it anyway. Because when I played the game (and that Vigrid scene came on), I couldn't help but feel like they'd met before.

So I thought it'd be fun to write a short story about it. I've tried to be as accurate as possible concerning the characters and their past/details/etc., however if I have missed anything then please forgive me. This is my first fan fiction.

This chapter is told from Luka's perspective. If this is well received, then I may write one from Bayonetta's. I hope you enjoyed it!