A/N I saw the Announcement for DMC 5 and just had to do this. Sorry folks XP
I do not own any of the Devil May Cry's! I do however own the plot for this fic, minus the Young Offenders Rehabilitation Program or YORP part that is, that's all Capcom. I also don't own Bob Marley or his song Three Little Birds.
Summary: There's a reason Dante is the way he is. There's a story behind his odd quirks, his love of pizza and his obsession with finding the perfect strawberry sundae. There's even a reason why Devil's, half or whole, never cry.
Warnings: Violence, a little blood, horror themes, humour, spoilers for DMC 5, hinted romance, character death.
This fic is Part One of a Two part series.
~Never For Love~
"I don't know exactly how it happened. Only that it did, and it changed my life. I asked HIM if he knew, but he was about as clueless and sceptical as me. We didn't really fight it though, because a part of us knew, deep down...that it was change, the kind of change that lead to good things. So we just went with the flow. Thats not to say that we didn't hit a lot of bumps on the way, though. Shall I tell you what happened? Ok, I will. It all started with a Dream I had..."
On the outskirts of Limbo City, a large and seemingly abandoned Hotel echoed with the soft tones of reggae. On the top most level, a gentle golden light flickered against drawn curtains, where a faint silhouette wondered back and forth.
"Don't worry, about a thing, 'cause every little thing, gonna be alright."
A soft humming accompanied the song as the figure moved from one side of the room to the other.
Inside, a young woman in her late teens or early twenties bent down to retrieve a large crate by the door. She picked it up and carried it to the other side of the large Penthouse suite, to deposit it inside a walk in closet, which was home to several other identical crates. After putting the crate down, she straightened and dusted her hands together.
"That's the last of them, finally." She murmured as she exited the large walk in closet, closing and locking the door behind her. She made her way to the front door of the suite, where she stepped into the open and idle elevator. She stepped up to the panel on the wall and thumped the corner with the flat side of her fist. A small panel door popped open, and she gently pulled a small blue wire from its place, causing the lights in the elevator to flicker, then go out. Smirking, she closed the panel once more and exited the now dead elevator to make her way to the large kitchen. Papers and books were scattered everywhere, cluttering nearly every flat surface in sight. She shoved aside a rather large pile of books, two of which were titled 'The Hordes Of Hell' and 'Armies Of Heaven'. Another, smaller book slipped off the top as she shoved them and landed on her foot, drawing a string of words that would make a sailor blush from her red stained full lips.
Bending down to retrieve the small purple book, the young woman rose and slammed it down on the bench. After a moment spent staring at the books engraved cover, she gently flipped the cover open and eyed the large, elegant script crawled across the bottom left hand corner.
"To my Calla Lily, give them hell!"
~ Mum
The book was titled 'Devil Arms and Artifacs'. There were only three copies in existence, her mother had given her that copy before she died, making her swear to take after her in the 'Family Business' as she called it. It wasn't so much a 'Family Business' as it was a hobby between mother and daughter. Hunting and killing demons had been all they had after her father left them, claiming that had he known what his wife was he never would have touched her.
Calla eased the book closed and set it aside before pulling out a rather intimidating handgun. It was pure black in colour, with small red script running down the length of the barrel. A silver blade ran from just under the double barrel to the end of the handgrip, protecting the trigger and the hand that would wield the gun, and acting as another weapon. Calla eyed the gun dubiously for a moment. "Now where the hell is your brother?" she asked the weapon. A red glow sparked into existence on the other side of the kitchen counter, under a pile of dirty laundry on the dining room table. "Ah ha!" She exclaimed, vaulting over the bench, scattering papers as she did so. She stuck her empty hand under the pile of clothing and rustled around for a moment, before grinning and pulling out another gun, identical to the first. "I was wondering where I left you." She said, twirling both guns expertly in her hands before shuffling over to the living room, stepping over piles of books and the occasional trunk. She plopped onto the sofa and placed her twin handguns on the marble coffee table.
She picked up a half empty bottle of beer by the side of the couch and leaned back into the squishy sofa, sipping the still cold beverage as she kicked her bare feet up onto the table. Absently, Calla flicked a strand of her dark scarlet red hair behind her ear. "I should get it cut soon." She thought as she picked up a strand that had fallen over her shoulder to rest on her stomach. She rubbed the soft strands between her finger tips before dropping the hair with a sigh. "So bored." She moaned as she slapped a hand over the side of her face, dragging it down as she glared at the ceiling. Violet eyes stared at the small knife lodged in the ceiling, which was surrounded by dozens of blade shaped holes. Her fingers twitched towards an identical knife stabbed into the fabric of the sofa's armrest, itching to toss it.
Snatching her hand away from the temptation, Calla stood to her full height of 5'9 to drop her now empty beer in the bin. Scrubbing a hand through her waist length dark scarlet hair, she made her way out of the living area and wondered into her large bedroom. Clad only in a pair of black lace panties and a purple tank top, she dropped onto her bed and snuggled under the comforter. "God damn today was lame." She mumbled as she dozed off, cursing the demons that just seemed to get the hint to stay the hell away. She had been so bored without them.
. . .
Violet eyes fluttered open as the sound of rats reached sensitive ears. Calla groaned and pulled herself off her side and into a sitting position, wondering where her comforter had gone to. Her eyes widened when she found herself sitting on a cold concrete floor, and grimaced upon finding it caked with dried blood. She climbed to her feet, noticing that she was still clad in her sleep wear. "What the hell?" She muttered as she took in her surroundings. She was in what appeared to be a dim hallway. Yellow lights swung from the ceiling, casting eerie golden brown light on the dirty tiled walls. "Where the hell am I?" She asked, askance. The sound of screaming had her snapping into fighter mode, her body slipped into a hand to hand stance easily, the absence of her weapons not affecting her in the least. The screaming was cut off abruptly and Calla frowned. "I think I was right the first time." She muttered, referring to her question. "This probably is hell." She whispered as she slowly made her way up the dank hallway. She passed a sign proclaiming the place to be 'Limbo City Young Offenders Rehabilitation'. She ignored the sign as she passed by several glass windows, each splattered with all kinds of horrid substances, but each one was empty.
She passed a door marked '644 34B' and peaked into the window next to it. She recoiled an instant later upon finding it occupied by a little girl. She was chained to the ceiling and wearing only her under wear, blood and dirt covered her small emaciated body, and when she looked up, Calla found herself staring into horrid black eyes. The girl opened her mouth and released a silent scream, and Calla jumped back as the glass cracked. Stumbling away from the window and further up the hall, Calla gripped her chest, trying to calm her racing heart as she passed another door.
Reluctantly, she glanced inside this room as well. It was empty. She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "This place really must be hell." She whispered, voice hoarse. She came to the end of the hall, which ending with a final door and window. She approached the door and read the room number. '644 32B'. Rubbing her arms to warm them up and to ease her shaking, Calla edged towards the window and peaked in. She squeaked upon finding another person strung up by chains, and pulled away from the window, too horrified to look properly.
She cursed herself and swallowed hard. "Come on Calla, are you a Devil Hunter, or a little school girl afraid of the boogie man?" She hissed to herself. Straightening, Calla brushed her hair out of her face and tensed her shoulders. Stepping back to the window, she peered through the glass and looked. What she found had her eyes widening and her mouth working uselessly. Strung up by chains, was a half-naked young man, around her own age, with messy black hair. She could see a tuft of white sticking up at the back, and tilted her head slightly, wondering what the heck was up with that. All of a sudden, the guy jerked and looked straight at her with steel blue eyes.
"Help me."
. . .
Calla jumped awake with a loud gasp, panicking when she realized she couldn't move her legs, she struggled until she slipped off the side of the bed to thud against the hard tiled floor. "Ow." she groaned as she pulled her face from the floor. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heart as she kicked the comforter off her legs. She sat up on the floor and rubbed her face. "Oh man." She mumbled as she pulled herself to her feet to stumble into the bathroom. She leaned on the sink and turned the tap on to rinse her face with cold water. "Oh man." She gasped as she slapped herself awake properly. "What a fucking nightmare." She hissed, splashing more water on her face. She pulled back from the sink and towelled off her face, shuddering. "I need a fucking beer." She said, exiting the bathroom to make her way to the kitchen.
She yanked open the fridge, ignoring the pizza boxes stuffed in the bottom compartment she pulled out a beer and popped the top. She slammed the fridge door shut with a knock of her hip and downed half the beer in one gulp. She exhaled in bliss and made her way to the living room, lighting a single candle as she went. The room was filled with a soft golden glow, and Calla eyed the puddle of wax where the old candle had been, obviously she had forgotten to blow it out before bed. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and sighed upon finding that she had only slept for three hours. After a moment, she eyed her beer dubiously, then checked the 'best before' date. Snorting upon finding it way past then, she downed the rest of it quickly before tossing the bottle over the back of the sofa, smirking when it thudded into the bin behind her. She sighed and closed her eyes, only to snap them open again upon finding steel blue eyes imprinted on the back of her lids. "God damn it all to hell." She groused, leaning forward to drop her face in her hands. She stared down at her toes, and growled. "Fucking hell!" She shrieked as she stood in a huff and stomped over to the land line. She snatched up the receiver and punched in several numbers before holding it to her ear.
It rang out once, and she redialled irritably, mumbling about stuffy old men not doing what she paid them for. It rang a few more times before it was answered by a dazed, gruff old voice.
"Who'z it?" The old man on the other end asked drowsily. Calla snorted.
"Who do you think it is old man?" She snipped. The old man groaned.
"Calla? Girl do you know what time it is?"He groaned in his half asleep voice. Calla glanced at the clock.
"Yes, I do." She answered tartly.
"Its four in the damn morning, what couldn't have waited until a decent hour, Calla?" Calla fidgeted slightly as weak words echoed in her mind. 'Help me.'
"I need you to run a facility search for me." She replied after a moment's hesitation. The old man sighed.
"Can't it wait?"He whined. Calla glared at the talk button for a moment.
"No, Henry, it can't wait. I want you to search for a place called 'Young Offenders Rehabilitation Program'. Now." She demanded. 'Henry' sighed and the sound of crinkling paper and tapping computer keys was heard for a minute.
"Limbo City, Young Offenders Rehabilitation Program. Yeah, it exists, it's near the centre of the city. It says here it's a facility for lawless teens and orphans. What do you want to know about a Detention Centre for?" Henry asked, confused. Calla chewed on her lip for a moment.
"Can you get a list of room numbers and names?" She asked after a long pause. Henry typed away on the computer for a moment.
"I found a list of blocks and rooms, but no names." He replied after a moment. Calla swallowed as she thought about her nightmare. Was it just a nightmare? She'd never heard of this place in all her life! So how could she dream of it when she didn't know it existed? "Calla? You still there?" Asked Henry. Calla shook her head to clear it.
"Yeah, Henry, I'm here. What blocks are there?" She asked. Henry paused for a moment.
"A, B, C and D. There's a medical centre in there as well." The old hacker answered. Calla breathed in deeply for a moment, recalling the room numbers she had seen in her dream/vision.
"Is there a room 644 32B?" She asked. Henry was silent for a moment and Calla gripped the receiver tighter, she didn't hear the plastic groan in protest.
"No, there isn't." He said, and the air in Calla's lungs exited her tense body with a loud 'whoosh'. "But there is an inmate by that code." He piped up after another moment. Calla's body went ram rod straight.
"Oh god." She thought, shocked and horrified all at once.
"Calla?" Henry asked, sounded concerned. Calla cleared her throat.
"Is there photo identification?" She asked. Henry hummed in though, the sound of typing coming across once more.
"Yes there is, you want me to fax over 644 32B's mug shot for ya?"
"Yes, right now, please Henry." She said, without hesitation. There was a whistle from the other line and Calla blinked.
"Girl, what in god's name do you want with a kid like this? He looks like a demon chewed on him and spat him back out." He exclaimed, seemingly amused as he stared at something only he could see right now. Calla heard her fax machine whir to life and glanced down to the phone as a black and white picture slipped out of the square machine. Henry asked her if that was all, but she didn't reply as she stared into what would be steel blue eyes. She swallowed thickly as she stared at the mug shot of the young man she had seen in her dream, or what is a vision? She hung up the land line absently and picked up the picture of the guy holding an identification card half hazardly. He looked non-plussed to be there, hell he didn't even seem to care that his face looked like someone had tried to rearrange it with their fists. After a moment of staring at the image, the implications of her vision and the photo hit her, and she dropped the image and groaned.
"Oh fuck me."
An hour later showed Calla dressed in black leather pants with knee high combat boots and a plain black sleeveless top. She pulled a long sleeved black bikers jacket over her shirt and zipped it up before twirling the long strands of her hair into a lazy bun, which she held in place as she stuffed a sleek black motorbike helmet over her head. She pulled on a pair of fingerless leather gloves and strapped her twin handguns, Onyx and Stone to her thighs. She strapped a tight belt over her trousers, and fastened the buckle, which was in the shape of a sharp petaled flower. She stamped both boots once, admiring the slim blades that popped out of the fronts and backs as she did so. Another stomp had them withdrawing back into the leather soles. Satisfied, Calla grabbed up a small ring of keys and made her way to the elevator. Stepping inside, she thumped open the side panel and re-connected the blue wire. The lights flickered on and the large metal box hummed to life. She hit the ground floor button, causing the door to close with a 'ding'.
As the lift descended, Calla stared at the crinkled paper in her hands, -Henry had faxed her the address of the facility- then scrunched it up after memorizing the address and stuffed the ball of paper in the breast pocket of her jacket. The lift 'dinged' again, announcing that she had reached ground level. The doors slid open to reveal an abandoned foyer, and Calla exited the lift to make her way to the front counter, which was covered by a large white sheet. She yanked the sheet aside, revealing what had been hidden behind the covered counter. A sleek black motorbike glinted in the dim morning sunlight as it streaked in through the broken front windows. Calla grabbed the handle bars of the bike and wheeled it to the front of the entry foyer, where she pulled the ring of keys from her pocket to unlock the front doors. She wheeled the bike out into the chilly morning air of Limbo city, and lowered the kick stand so she could lock the doors once more.
Pocketing the keys, Calla turned and breathing in the cold air. The city was mostly still asleep, but there were still some early risers leaving to work. "Well...Here goes nothing then..." She said softly as she climbed onto her bike, which roared to life under her touch. She flipped down the pure black visor, completely covering her face from view, then kicked up the kick stand and revved the throttle, grinning despite herself as she tore off of the front stairs, flying over the steps before hitting the pavement to race up the road, tires screeching as she swerved around a corner.
It took her twenty minutes to reach the Institute from the outskirts of the city, and by the time Calla pulled into the parking lot out front the sun had risen more and people were starting to bustle around the streets. She shut off her bike and eyed the large building in front of her in disbelief. "What the fuck, is that a rainbow?" she asked/squawked as she stared at the rather unintimidating building.
The walls were painted a cheery light blue, with a rainbow painted onto the side wall proclaiming the place to be a Youth Detention Centre. There were even potted plants in the windows! Sure the back area was fenced off, but come on, this looked more like a Pre-school then a damned Evil Institute! Twitching slightly, Calla climbed off of her bike and made her way to the front doors, lighting a smoke as she went after flicking up her visor. She didn't smoke, not really, but for appearances sake she would today. She passed by a crying mother as her teenage son was carted off into the building with handcuffs on and snorted. "Man this place blows." She muttered as she passed the entry foyer and made her way up to the desk. The clerk there looked more like an evil scientist reject then a receptionist looked up and sneered at the smoke between her lips.
"Hi!" She said cheerily. "I'm here for my little brother." She said, smiling sweetly. The clerk raised a brow.
"Name?" He drawled boredly.
"Lily." She said. The clerk stared at her. "Oh you mean my brother's name? Its, er, er…Tony!" She said, louder then she probably should have as she chuckled nervously, picking the first male name that came to mind. "You know, about yay high." She held her hand up just slightly over her head. "Black hair, white patch at the back? Blue eyes, a little on the angsty side?" She asked. The clerk eyed her dubiously for a moment, then typed away on his computer for a moment.
"There is a young man here matching that description. He cannot, however, be discharged. He's in here for multiple accounts of man slaughter and the possession of illegal firearms, and the local shrink thinks he's psychotic." He drawled on. Calla felt her eyelid twitch, but didn't let her smile falter.
"Can I at least see him?" She asked, adding a hint of false hope in her tone as she clasped her hands together in front of her. The clerk rolled his eyes.
"No." He said simply. Calla slumped, all traces of her act gone as she simply smirked.
"Alright, I tried to do this the nice way." She drew Onyx and shoved it over the counter and under the clerks nose. The poor man paled drastically and swallowed loudly. "Now, be a good little bitch and take me to my 'brother'." She said sweetly, nudging the clerk with her gun. Amazingly, no one took any notice as she followed behind the fearful man with her gun digging into his lower back, and she smirked devilishly as she was lead through the pristine white halls.
A few hallways later she was lead to a cheery blue door with no peak hole or window.
"T-this is his room." The clerk stuttered. Calla stared at the door flatly, then jammed her gun into the back of the clerks neck.
"Do you think I'm an idiot, little man?" She said lowly, dangerously calm. The clerk swallowed thickly.
"N-no ma'am!" He spluttered. Calla ran a hand through his hair sweetly.
"Then you will take me to the room Subject 644 32B is being kept in, if you don't..." she trailed off and jammed Onyx into the clerks temple. "Bang." She cooed. The clerk shuddered violently and nodded.
"O-ok, just please, don't kill me." He begged as he led her down several more halls until they came to a lift that read 'out of order'. Calla smirked as the clerk inserted a key and activated the lift. They entered the metal box and Calla eyed the clerk as he pushed a button marked 'B'. The lift gave a slight jerk, then the sudden feeling of decent kicked in. Calla kept Onyx firmly in the man's back, standing behind him calmly, as if she wasn't really holding the man hostage and extorting him into helping her. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, a small camera in the corner of the lift, and flipped her visor down, having discarded her cigarette back in the halls. The door 'pinged' open and Calla was met with the sight of stained tiled walls and cold concrete floors.
"That's more like it." She said, shoving the clerk into the tiled wall in front of her. "Thank you for your help." She said, before raising Onyx to the back of the clerks head. She pulled the trigger before he could turn around, the shot was dead silent as blood and brain matter splattered against the already filthy walls. His body fell to the ground with a wet 'splat' and Calla kissed Onyx's barrel. "Good boy." She cooed to the gun, which seemed to glint happily in her hand. She stepped over the clerks body and made her way up the hall, the heels of her combat boots clicking on the concrete and echoing eerily in the seemingly endless halls.
She ignored every door and observation window she passed, not even glancing into the dark confines of the cells as she trekked a familiar path towards the back of the B-Block. She did, however pause when she stood level with the little girls window. Swallowing, she glanced in, only to find the room empty. Exhaling shakily, Calla shook her head and continued two more doors down. She stepped in front of the window to Subject 644 32B's cell and peered inside. Just like in her vision, the young man with black and white hair hung inside, suspended by chains that attached to the corners of the ceiling. Unlike in her vision however, he didn't look up at her, or ask her for help, he just hung there, seemingly unconscious. She used Onyx to tap on the glass, he did nothing but twitch at the sound.
Frowning slightly, Calla approached the door and eyed the locking mechanism. It was Code Locked. "Argh, maybe killing the clerk wasn't the brightest idea after all." She muttered, poking at the panel. It beeped at her in annoyance, and Calla snorted before standing straight again. She rested her helmeted head in her hand for a moment, before shrugging. "Hm, fuck it." She said as she drew Stone in her other hand, she crossed both guns over her wrists and tensed the arms in her muscles. The guns glowed an eerie blood red before the script along the shafts began to spark. She pulled the triggers an instant later, and the kickback of both charged weapons sent a shockwave down the halls, throwing the lights around and causing them to swing wildly back and forth. The door blew inwards with a loud 'boom' as sparks flew from the hinges. It collided with the back wall solidly, then fell to the ground with a metal 'thunk'.
Calla twirled her guns, cooing at them. "Such lovely boys." She praised the seemingly sentient weapons as she kissed both of them on the barrels, before holstering them. She strolled into the cell and turned to eye the occupant. She whistled as she counted his ribs. "Well, they've certainly done a number on you, eh 'Tony'?" She asked as she moved to stand in front of him. When he didn't react at all to her presence, she rested a small gloved hand under his chin and lifted his head to get a look at his face. His eyes were only slightly open, and he seemed to be swimming between consciousness and oblivion. "Poor dear." She said softly, then used her other hand to slap him soundly across the face.
Steel blue eyes snapped and locked straight onto her an instant later. She smiled. "That's better, at least now I won't have to carry your skinny ass." she said as she eyed the chains on his wrists.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice hoarse. She winced at the painful quality to his voice and vowed to make him choke down some beer when she got him back to the Penthouse. He certainly looked like he needed it. She eyed him for a moment.
"You don't recognise me?" she asked, slightly confused. Hadn't he asked her to help him? He gave her an obvious once over, then raised a black brow.
"Should I?" He asked. Calla snorted.
"Well that figures." She said as she drew Stone this time. She noticed his eyes follow the weapon with hawk like intensity and snorted. "Relax, I came all this way to rescue you, not kill you." She said, before slipping an arm around his waist and taking aim at one of the chains. Stone fired just as silently as Onyx, and the chain shattered. Calla easily held onto the young man as his weight fell back onto him, and she fired at the second chain after she had adjusted her grip. He fell hard against her, but Calla simply pulled one of his arms over her shoulder and neck and held his waist with the other. He winced every now and then as they made their way back to the lift, and Calla figured he probably had a broken rib or two. "So," She began as they rounded the final corner to the lift. "What should I call you? Or should I stick with Tony?" She asked. The guy scowled at her, and she grinned under her visor.
"Dante." He said after a while. Calla hummed as they stepped over the dead clerk. She eased 'Dante' inside the lift, then went back to the clerk to steal his keys. With their way out in her hand, she re-entered the lift and slipped the key into the slot before pressing the large black 'G' button. (G for Ground Level) She eyed Dante, who was leaning heavily on the steel wall in the corner. To her, he gave off the air of a fighter, but seeing him in such a poor state ruffled her feathers more than it really should have.
"Calla." She said, causing him to look up at her. "My name." She clarified at his confused look.
"My weapons." He said. Calla nodded, figuring he would have had some at one stage.
"We'll come back and get them later, first we need to get you healthy." She said, he opened his mouth to protest, but she rested her hands on her hips and gave him a level stare that said 'argue and die'. He didn't see her expression because of her visor, but he obviously sensed it as he backed down reluctantly, knowing he was no match for her at the moment. She smirked. "Good boy." She cooed, earning a scowl. She giggled. So adorable.
The lift 'pinged' its stop on the Ground floor, and Dante allowed Calla to support him again as they exited the lift. Only a single 'guard' protested their escape in the halls, but he was silenced by Stone easily. Dante didn't protest the killing, and Calla figured they probably deserved it in his mind, and after seeing the shit going on in their basement? She agreed wholely. She gunned down another guard as they entered the foyer, and both released a relieved sigh upon finding it empty of people.
They got about as far the door however, before the sounds of multiple guns cocking made them freeze.
"Halt!" Shouted an obviously armed...what was he? Police? S.W.A.T? F.B.I? He didn't look anything like any of them, even his goons looked half assed. The Institute Security force then? She snorted.
"Oh please, I eat guys like you for breakfast." She drawled, causing Dante to snort. The guard didn't falter.
"You will relinquish your weapons and put your hands on your heads!" He shouted from in front of them. Calla twitched. No one was going to make her give up her boys. No one.
"I really do suggest shutting up and going on your merry way, gentlemen, because you see...I didn't have time for my Cheerio's this morning, and I wasn't kidding about eating guys like you for breakfast." She hissed, violet eyes flashing to glowing red. The armed man gaped at her.
"Demon!" He shouted, throwing up his weapon. "Fire!" He screamed. Calla groaned and, much to her charges dismay, launched them both into the air with a powerful kick of her legs. They hit the ground on the other side of the troop with a light thud, and Calla supported Dante as they made a mad dash towards her motorbike.
"Man I hate wannabe's!" She shouted as they dodged bullets.
"Fucking tell me about it!" Snapped Dante as they jumped over the hood of a car. Calla climbed onto her bike and revved the engine loudly, pausing only for Dante to climb on behind her and wrap his arms around her stomach.
"Hang on." She said, before stomping the ground with one foot and bodily lifting the front of the bike as the rear tire screeched against the ground, sending smoke up into the faces of the approaching troop. she slammed the front down after she had turned the bike to face the front gates and they tore off into the streets, swerving to avoid the stray bullets as the troop fired on them from back in the parking lot.
After swerving around a corner and tearing off into a narrow alley between buildings the bullets ceased, and both breathed a sigh of relief. Calla felt warmth seeping down her hip and frowned, risking a glance down as she swerved around a trash can. Red. "Shit." She cursed, accelerating as they turned around another corner. She felt Dante lift his arm, and figured he had probably felt the blood soaking her jacket.
"Pull over." He said loudly over the wind. Calla shook her head.
"Not yet." She called back.
"Pull over or you'll kill us both!" He retorted. Calla rolled her eyes. She was bleeding, not dying. He gripped her shoulder.
"Pull. Over." He ground out. Calla elbowed him in the ribs.
"I said not yet! We're almost there." She growled, turning the bike down a back street short cut. The foreclosed and abandoned Hotel came into view, and Calla turned down another alley. This section of the outskirts was mostly deserted, because at one stage it had been full of demons. After she moved in however, that changed, but people still stayed away out of superstition and paranoia. Both of which suited her just fine. The bike lurched under them as she rode it clear off a side rail and onto the main road, and she felt Dante cling to her as she sped down the barely flat street.
"Jesus Christ!" He yelped behind her as she drove the bike over the side of a levelled street and onto the lower road to avoid a broken down bus that was in the middle of the road. The bounce sent a sharp twinge of pain from her gunshot wound, but she ignored it in favour of speeding up a loading bay ramp of an old shopping centre. The bike flew over the outer edge railing and landed with a squeak of abused tires on yet another higher level road. She grinned as Dante continued to curse behind her, and decided to cut the guy some slack. Usually she would launch the bike over the edge of a garden balcony; the drop was a good fifteen yards onto the roof of another bus. Instead she took the side street and rode the ramp for wheelchairs instead of the stairs.
They were on the home stretch now, and Calla eased the bike up another ramp until she could skid to a stop at the top of the Hotels entrance stairs. She flipped down the kick stand and left a windblown Dante sitting on the bike as she pulled the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the doors. She turned to find her charge off the bike and wheeling it towards the doors, using it as a support as he went. She held the door open as he passed through with her bike and entered after him, closing and locking the doors once more before leading him to the counter. She took the bike from him and eased it to the counter, where she pulled the white sheet back over both it and her bike. She dusted her hands together and offered her hand to Dante again, he shook his head and stood on his own.
Shrugging, Calla lead him to the elevator. Once piled inside, she hit the 'P' for her suite, and inserted a key when it beeped. With a groan the doors slid closed and the lift began to ascend. Beside her, Dante ran a hand through his wind swept hair.
"You live here?" He asked, voice still hoarse. Calla nodded as she unzipped her jacket to inspect her wound. She took one look at all the blood and sighed, before zipping her jacket back up. She would treat it when they actually made it to her suite. The door 'pinged' open, and Calla disconnected the blue wire in the side panel. They got off the lift and entered the suite. After shoving Dante onto the sofa, Calla made a bee line for the kitchen, fully intent on making good on her vow. She retrieved two beers from the cold fridge and returned to the living room. She tossed one of the beers at Dante, who caught it easily, if stiffly. "Thanks..." He said after a moment of staring at the beer in his hand. He popped the top and gulped down half of its contents in one go.
"Easy, you'll make yourself sick." She warned as she pulled off her helmet, causing waves of her scarlet hair to cascade down her back and shoulders while violet eyes took in his skinny frame. She'd stuff some food down his throat later, right now she needed to take care of her wound before she bled out. It was only her lucky (in most cases) genetics that had stopped her from bleeding out and dying sooner. She unzipped her jacket again and removed it gingerly, tossing it onto the pile of dirty clothing on the dining room table. She staggered slightly at the movement, wincing. "Whoa." She gasped, feeling light headed. "Better get this sorted quickly." She though, making her way to the bathroom, not noticing Dante staring wide eyed after her. Half way there she teetered into the hallway wall. "Shit." She cursed, shoving off the wall, leaving a nice red streak on the wall as she went. It would clean off easily enough. She made it to her bedroom door before the dizziness forced her to make friends with the hard floor. "Ow." She groaned. "Why do I have to be half, why couldn't I have been a Full Breed, they get instant regeneration, we halves have to wait." She whined, pulling herself onto her hands and knees shakily. She tried to crawl to the bathroom, where her first aid kit was, but failed after taking one shaky step. "Fuck." She groaned from her place on the floor.
She contemplated calling out to Dante, but dismissed the idea instantly. She was supposed to be saving his life, not the other way around, besides he could barely walk under his own power.
"Crap." She swore again, feeling oddly cold. She hated getting shot. She really did. Especially when its somewhere important, like her kidney! She didn't get to curse again before she was being lifted gently off the floor by strong hands. She helped to the best of her abilities, able to move her feet but not to support her own weight. "My, my, how the tables have turned." She huffed inwardly as she was half carried to the bathroom by none other than Dante. "You're supposed to be recovering." She said as he gently eased her to the bathroom floor. He snorted in her ear.
"Kind of hard to relax when your rescuer is bleeding all over her bedroom floor." He replied tartly. Calla huffed as he pulled the first aid kit from under the sink. He set about pulling out bandages and disinfectant. She lifted her shirt slightly as he approached her with a pair of tweezers and cringed as he set about pulling the bullet out. It was a pain she had experienced many times before, but one never did quite get used to it. It took him three minutes to pull the damn thing out, and when he did he quickly poured the disinfectant over it, causing Calla to hiss through her teeth. After that he wiped the area clean with a wet cloth and began wrapping the bandage around her waist and over the wound. When he was done Calla was feeling slightly better, at least she didn't feel like she was going to be kissing the floor again.
"Thanks." She said as she pulled her shirt back down. Dante put the first aid kit back under the sink and eyed her for a moment, before snorting. Calla scowled, offended. "What?" She asked irritably. Dante smirked.
"Some rescue attempt. You get me out, then end up getting shot, then it's me helping you." He said, amusement clear in his steel blue eyes. Calla raised a bloodied hand and flipped him off. He chuckled and helped her to her feet, where she shoved him aside and proceeded to wash her hands in the sink. He chuckled again and washed his own hands after she was done. This time it was Calla's turn to snort.
"If you think your only washing your hands here, you've got another thing coming." She said, pulling a clean towel out of the cupboard by the door. Dante blinked, confused.
"Huh?" Calla tossed him the towel and pointed to the large shower.
"Clean yourself up, in case you hadn't noticed, you're filthy and you smell like a homeless person who slept in dog shit." With that, she turned and exited the bathroom to change out of her bloodied clothes. Dante stared after, dumbfounded and slightly insulted. He sniffed under his arm a moment later, then grimaced.
Calla sighed as she pulled on another shirt, identical to her ruined one and a pair of denim shorts. She gingerly poked at her treated wound and sighed, pulling her shirt back down. It would be healed in a day or two, nothing to worry about now that the bleeding had stopping. After a moment, Calla realized that Dante had no clothes, other than his jeans, boots and necklaces. With a sigh, Calla made her way to the spare/storage room, kicking aside a few small boxes as she shoved her way past a spare dresser, which had been in her room at one stage. She hadn't needed half the stuff in the suite, and had just shoved it all in here. She found the box she had been searching for at the back of the large room by the walk in closet. It was labelled 'trash'. In other words it was her ex-boyfriends shit. Chris had been a real douche bag once he had gotten into her good graces. He had just been one of those too-good-to-be-true guys. Where was he now? Dead. She smirked as she ripped open the box. After what he had tried to do to her, it had been Stone and Onyx's pleasure to fill him full of holes. Too bad the prick never counted on his 'harmless, innocent Callie' to be an experienced Devil Hunter who could kick his ass with both hands tied behind her back and blindfolded.
She shuffled through the random junk that had been left behind after his tragic feeding to demons until she found a decent looking black shirt and a pair of dark jeans. She found a newer pair of boxers that Chris hadn't really had a chance to wear and closed the box. She carried her findings back to her room and knocked on the bathroom door, without waiting for a response she shouldered the door open and dropped the clothing on the sink counter, ignoring the indignant "H-hey!" from behind the royal blue shower curtain. With that done, she turned tail and exited the bathroom again, closing the door behind her.
After a moment of just stand in front of the bathroom door, Calla fell into a fit of giggles as she made her way to the kitchen. Poor Dante, staying with her was going to drive him insane, she just knew it.
Making it to the kitchen, she opened the fridge and checked the shelves. She balked. "Wow, when was the last time I went grocery shopping?" She asked herself. The neon green jelly in the corner of the fridge gurgled at her, and she reached in to rub its head, making it jiggle and squeak, after that she closed the door. "Ok then, take out it is." She said, making her way to the land line. She dialled a well memorized number.
"Limbo's Pizza, can I take your order?" Calla grinned.
"Steve!" She crowed into the phone.
"...Why am I not surprised." 'Steve' droned. Calla snorted.
"Yes, I love you too Steve." She said, smirking.
"The usual then?" He asked. Calla quirked her lip for a moment.
"No, actually...How's about one of everything?" she asked, thinking over the possibilities. Steve snorted.
"You got it, crazy pizza lady." He said, amused. Calla stuck her tongue out at the phone, then, realizing Steve couldn't see it, huffed. "I'll bring them around in an hour." He said, before hanging up. Calla grinned.
"I knew there was a reason I liked you Steve." She cackled. Steve had been a client at one stage. He used to live with his grandmother on a farm just outside of the City. A pack of Hellhounds had been killing off the livestock, and he had called Calla's 'business' after he had heard about her on the grapevine. After that his grandmother had died and he sold the farm, then got a job at Limbo's Pizza to pass the time. She dealt with him when she wanted pizza, because he was the only one there she trusted to know where she lived.
To get her 'business' started, Calla had sent out rumours of herself, and it had just grown from there. Her services were well known amongst certain circles of the city, and her work was appreciated by most. With food on the way, Calla made her way to the stereo on the cabinet by the wall. She hit the 'ON' switch and skipped to her favourite song.
Reggae drifted from the speakers and Calla grinned as she picked up her beer from the coffee table, next to Dante's empty one.
"-'Cause every little thing, gonna be all right." She sang along as Bob Marley's 'Three Little Birds' played from the stereo. She took a long sip of her beer as the song played. "Rise up this mornin', smiled with the risin' sun, three little birds, pitch by my doorstep, singin' sweet songs, of melodies pure and true..." she sang, humming the rest as it played, occasionally sipping from her drink. "Don't worry, about a thing, 'cause everything little thing, gonna be alri..." she trailed off when she noticed Dante standing at the entrance of the hall, watching her with amusement. Without her permission, a dark blush worked its way up her neck. She swallowed and scowled at him. "Not a word." She said menacingly.
Dante smirked and helped himself to another beer from the fridge. He eyed the gurgling green jelly in the corner of the fridge oddly, and raised a brow when it squeaked at him and jiggled. Not too sure what to make of the living jelly, Dante slowly made a grab for the beer. The jelly wobbled, and he paused, then tried again. The jelly squeaked and growled at him. "..." He stared at it, and it stared at him, well, at least he thought it was staring at him, it had no eyes. After a moment, he quickly grabbed the beer and slammed the fridge door shut, a muffled squeal from inside made him smirk and pop the bottle cap smugly.
Calla smirked from her place on the sofa. "Don't stir Mr. Jiggles like that, he holds a grudge like nothing you've ever seen." She said, sipping her beer. Dante blinked at her oddly.
"...Mr. Jiggles?" He dared ask. Calla snorted at the look on his clean face.
"The Mutant Jelly in the fridge. Turns out leaving tomes on advanced demonic magic in the fridge mutates high in sugar junk food." she said, as if commenting on the weather. Dante stared at her, and she shrugged. "It was one of those days." She said, answering his unasked question. She hadn't meant to put the tome in the fridge...it had just happened. Oh well, it didn't matter, Mr. Jiggles was cute, and he kept unwanted hands from stealing her beer. She glanced at Dante and his pilfered beer. Most hands, then. She finished off her beer and sighed, then noticed she had an audience. She scowled. "What?" she asked warily.
Dante, who had been staring at her for the better part of five minutes, shrugged. "I'm trying to figure out why you'd help me, when you don't even know me." He answered honestly. Calla stared at him in return. After a moment, she sighed and rubbed her face.
"Believe me when I tell you I'm just as confused as you are." She said, eying her empty beer in distaste. Dante raised a brow.
"Have any answers?" he asked. Calla shook her head.
"Not really. All I can say is...I helped you because," she paused and glanced at him. "You asked me to." she finished. Dante blinked at her.
"I've never seen you before in my life, so how could I have asked you to help me?" He asked dubiously. Calla shrugged.
"I don't know. I just had this dream..." She trailed off, not really willing to go into the details of her dream, but the look her guest was giving her said she had no choice in the matter. "I dreamed of you, ok?" She said, getting up to get another beer. When she opened the fridge, Mr. Jiggles wasn't in his corner anymore, but stretched out over a six pack of beer, obviously sore from failing to keep Dante from it. She cooed at him and poked its squishy side, making it squeal and wiggle. She retrieved another beer and went back to find Dante giving her a look that said 'I'm thinking of attacking you, so spill, now'. She snorted and used her foot to close the door behind her. "It was more of a vision then a dream. I was in the lower levels of the facility, in the B-block I think. I just followed the doors until I found you. When I tried to get a better look, you looked up and asked me to help you. Happy?" She said testily, leaving out the part about the demonic little girl.
Dante stared at her for a long moment, before sighing. "I've never dealt with Seers before." He said. Calla snorted.
"Oh I ain't a Seer, believe me. That was the first vision I've ever had. Period." She said, plopping back down on the sofa next to him. Dante scratched his head, and Calla tried not to stare at the odd white tuft on the back of his head. It looked kind of cute, now that she could actually see it. It reminded her of a scruffy puppy she had seen a few months ago, he was all black, save for a tuft of white fur between his eyes. She had named him Patchie. She hadn't seen him since though, and she knew not to get her hopes up that he was still alive, orphaned pups didn't last long on the streets, and she hadn't been able to take him in, animals didn't take well to her kind after all.
"So…" Dante started. He eyed his shirt. "Who'd these belong to?" He asked to break the silence. Calla glared at him, or more accurately, the shirt he was wearing.
"My ex-boyfriend." She answered stiffly. Dante blinked.
"Ex?" He asked.
"As in dead." She replied flatly. Dante winced at that.
"I'm sorry…" He amended. Calla snorted bitterly.
"Don't be, I'm the one who killed him." She snapped. Dante's eyebrows shot into his hair line. "Don't give me that look, he was a bastard for what he tried to-" Calla cut herself off, not wanting to share that particular chapter of her life. Dante frowned and opened his mouth to comment before Calla held her hand up to silence him. "It's in the past, and I didn't shed a tear for the sick fuck." A long silence followed that statement before Calla eyed the floor under her feet. She had loved him once, but that had changed after what he'd done. "Devil's never cry…not for love…never for love."
The awkward silence that followed the end of that stunted conversation was broken by a beeping at the elevator on the other side of the living room. Calla grinned. "Pizza's here!" she crowed as she jumped up to send the lift down for Steve. Dante blinked after her as she went, briefly wondering when she had ordered the Pizza.
When the lift came back up a young man stood holding two large stacks of boxes. Calla instantly relieved him of his load, moving quickly to dump the boxes on the table in front of Dante, before rushing back with a wad of cash. She handed the cash to Steve, who saluted and winked.
"Have fun." He said, causing a tick to develop on Calla's forehead as she glared at the closing doors. When he was down she recalled the lift and disconnected the wire again. "Hmph, jerk." She muttered to herself. He had only said it after catching sight of Dante on the sofa, and knowing Steve he would have jumped to the wrong conclusion. Snorting, Calla made her way back into the living room where she found Dante eying the mountain of Pizza boxes dubiously. She stared at him.
"Well? Hungry or not?" She asked. Of course he was hungry, she could tell just by looking at him, but he didn't seem to want to touch the boxes. She blinked in shock as it clicked. "You've never had pizza before have you?" She asked, askance. Dante shook his head hesitantly, and Calla felt something inside her break slightly. Never had Pizza? Damn, not even as a kid? All kids loved pizza! She sighed. Maybe his family hadn't allowed it? Did he even have any family? It was none of her business, she knew, so she instead hummed and grabbed the boxes, spreading them out on the tiles. She opened them one by one, pointing out which one was which to the clueless young man on her sofa.
"So, try it out, I bet you anything you like you'll love it." She proclaimed confidently. Dante eyed her, then shrugged and picked up a slice of Supreme. She picked up her own slice of Ham and Pineapple and watched in fond amusement as he finished one slice, then promptly mowed through half of the boxes. She inwardly laughed, typical male, where did he put it all? She was amazed he didn't make himself sick with how much he ate, considering he seemed to have been starved in the facility. Getting up after finishing her own whole pizza, Calla went into the kitchen to get more beer. She poked Mr. Jiggles away from the pack and pulled out two more.
She re-entered the living room to find Dante sprawled on the sofa rubbing his stomach and sighing like a satisfied cat. She smirked and tossed him one of the beers.
"Something tells me I've created a fellow Pizza Monster..."
Eight months Dante stayed with her, both sharing the living space of the abandoned hotel, living it up in Calla's Penthouse. Calla had no idea just why the young man stayed as long as he did, maybe it had something to do with the free beer and pizza? He obviously had no problems sleeping on a squishy sofa for long periods of time, -it may have been the Penthouse, but every other room besides her own was full to the brim with her Hunting crap- and seemingly didn't care that his female host was often times absent on Hunts. At one stage she'd tried to keep her occupation a secret, thinking it'd freak him out like it had her ex-boyfriend. He'd guessed, rather quickly what she was doing, what with the crap she left lying about she'd have guessed him chronically retarded if he hadn't. He'd actually been rather amused by her horrified reaction when he'd busted her trying to sneak from the elevator to her room covered in demon blood. Just as she'd started hyperventilating he'd gone and casually asked how she'd managed to get so much Blitz blood on her.
Considering the veritable armoury she'd helped him steal back from YORP, she shouldn't have been shocked he knew so much about Hunting. The look on her face when he'd told her he was also in fact a Devil Hunter had him laughing at her for days.
Things got a little more interesting after that.
Dante, or 'Tony Redgrave' –he wore enough damned red- as he went by in public to avoid YORP catching wind of him tagged along on most of her Hunts, but often times went on his own when there were a few clients on the list. They worked well together, she'd found, and even though she appeared as something more than human, Dante never questioned her about it, so Calla never said anything. With the way she saw him fight sometimes, Calla soon came to realise there was also more to 'Tony Redgrave' than he let on, and she was fine with that. They basically had an unspoken understanding of each other going on between them, both knowing the other wasn't completely human while at the same time never mentioning it. It worked, so they stuck by it.
Calla also had the tendency to deflect most questions with her 'Ask me no questions I tell you no lies' motto, even though he never asked questions about that.
It also turned out that yes, she had indeed created another Pizza Monster who quickly became very well known to Steve the Pizza guy. In fact, other than her famous –to a very, very small circle of people- strawberry sundaes, all he ever ate was pizza, which often times annoyed Calla to no end, as he never seemed to go over his ideal weight –once he'd regained what he'd lost in captivity- sometimes she just wished he'd gain a few pounds so she could force feed him Brussels sprouts or something.
In the eight months that she'd known Dante, she'd come to learn of some of his less than stellar traits. Yes, she was well aware that no one was perfect in this hellish world, but sometimes a girl could dream.
Less than stellar trait number one!
He had a nasty habit of smoking; she may have had a few in her life time, but if there was one thing she hated, it was the smell of Tabaco in her otherwise clean smelling suit. She often kicked him out onto the balcony when he dared light up inside, but after a while he got the hint. Didn't change the fact that she could always smell it on his clothes and skin whenever he walked by.
Less than stellar habit number two!
He was a slob; Yes, she herself left papers and books lying about, and sometimes clothing when she hadn't had the chance to do some washing, but he was a slob. In the sense that he tracked mud and blood all over the place after coming back from a hunt. He left his boots to rot in whatever substance he'd stepped in by the elevator. He left pizza boxes in the living room. Calla didn't truly mind that he was a slob in most cases, because nine times out of ten he apologized and cleaned up after himself when she pointed it out. But there was one particular trait he had that really, really rubbed her the wrong way.
He was a damned man whore; After the first time he'd tried to bring some strange woman up to the Penthouse, Calla had taken one look at her clothing, -what little there was of it- and the way she was all over Dante like some half-naked octopus with a south bound travel plan and deduced she was a hooker. Calla hated women who lowered themselves to the whims of men for money. She understood that one had to do what one had to do to get by in life, but to sell one's own body for some random stranger? Dante shouldn't have been surprised when she put a hole in the whores head.
Ok, she may have overreacted by shooting the hooker, and it may have had something to do with her the recently discovered possessiveness of Dante, but still…
He didn't try to bring women back to the Penthouse after that incident. No, he wasted his well-earned money on motel rooms.
Calla didn't know whether to shoot him, every hooker in Limbo, or herself.
They grew closer in time, but Calla never allowed herself to take that last step in their companionship, never allowed him to try either for that matter. She didn't want a one night fling, and have to live with him after it. She wasn't that kind of woman. So they started working their own cases more and more. He kept finding hookers. She kept fingering her weapons every time she passed one in the street.
It was around then however, that things started going downhill. Less demons and more Devils started coming in to Limbo City, their workload quadrupled in number and difficulty. They saw less and less of each other as they struggled to deal with the sudden influx of Devils, both low and high class.
Then he showed up.
Calla had honestly thought she'd run into Dante on one of her Hunts, and had reacted as such. She'd called his name, waved, and ended up run through with a damn Katana when she'd tried to glomp him in greeting.
When she'd managed to fight the Dante look-a-like off without any further injury, she'd pegged it home on her bike and all but broken down the door, calling for the idiot. She'd confronted him about his supposed evil twin, and he had explained, however reluctantly, that he did in fact have an evil twin. Calla had slapped him clear on the face and demanded she tell his brother to respect his betters, because if he stabbed her again, she'd kill him.
Dante never doubted that she could have.
Calla was older, even if only slightly. She had more experience in Devil Hunting, as her family's very foundation was built upon centuries of Devilry and Arms. It also never hurt that there was always at least one half-devil in every generation. Half of what Devil was never mentioned between them, but Dante was sure she'd mop the floor with his brother any day of the week.
And so Vergil entered the picture.
Things degenerated more after that. Calla and Dante fought together more often, the foes they came up against somehow growing in strength and number, until one day…everything came to a climax. Calla went and did the unthinkable. Dante hadn't seen it coming, Vergil certainly hadn't bet on it, the Devils and their still unknown collaborator –shockingly not Vergil, the slimy prick who took too much delight in toying with her- couldn't have hoped for anything else.
An all-out battle in the streets of Limbo took place, various Devil Hunters, low and high class joined the fray at Calla's behest, Devils of all power classes, shapes and sizes fought to the death. Not quite a War, but not quite a skirmish.
Amongst it all, somehow, someway, Hell itself went and opened up beneath Calla's feet.
She went and died, and there was nothing Dante could have done to stop it. Vergil didn't really care enough to try, she was just the crazy half breed woman that hung around his brother that he sometimes took pleasure in annoying.
Dante was never quite the same after that, and if the event turned his hair completely white when he'd gone a little crazy trying to get to her, there was no one around left to care anyway. He didn't cry though, and for the first time since he'd met her, he understood why.
"Devil's never cry…not for love…never for love."
Crying for love meant goodbye after all…
END
PART TWO COMING SOON!
Review? Tell me what you think! Got any questions? I'll answer them. As for the ending, don't worry it continues, the next part will take off just after the events of DMC 4. So, stay tuned! Theres a special quirk behind Calla's name, a cookie to whoever gets it!
~Youkai, out!