Chapter One: Butter-knife
Lienne has a dream, a dream that seems all too real. Soon she realizes she is no longer in her world, but is instead in the realm of demon-hunters, and their prey.
Posted: 11/28/2013
Happy Thanksgiving ;)
Ominous knocks resounded throughout the still room. The darkness was inky and churning, not revealing the children's stark terror of the man outside the door. This fear could only be felt as an inauspicious sense of dread - a hovering cloud lingering over their heads and oppressing those beneath. "Wakey, wakey sleeping children. Time to come out and play."
The girl next to Lienne was whimpering in fear, throaty whines growing increasingly louder as the children heard something being drawn from a sheathe. Lienne could see a glinting axe-head through the window in the door, light catching the sharp blade with its merciless cold yellow shafts. Lienne hypothesized he was going to break through the thin glass, grab the handle on the opposite side, open the door –
The man did just that. His axe fell upon the window, sending shards of sharp translucent silica flying towards unprotected victims, who cowered, faces pale and desperate.
The girl beside Lienne could no longer stifle her fear, and it burst from her throat in full force, adding a shrieking cacophony to the loud falls of the axe.
Finally, his arm came through the window, brushing broken bits of glass from the frame. "Hello, children. How was school today?" He laughed to himself, maniacal cackles muffled by the mask he wore. "I've been having a great time, myself. These lockdowns are always fun."
His hand reached for the door handle, spindly fingers like the claws of death – menacing in sight and meaning.
The class was hushed as the handle turned. Though every day the door had been opened by students and teachers, always quickly, always without thought, the company now sat in rapture of the mundane hardware. It was a fool's hope: it was their only chance. If he couldn't turn it, they would be fine. The authorities would have a chance to come. They would save –
The dead fingers played with it. Caressed it. His nails glided over the metal surface, bringing small screeching sounds to the forefront of the gathered mass's hearing. The girl next to Lienne began whimpering anew. The sounds were seemingly stolen from her throat by the man's very hand – with every stroke of the handle, she would call in answer with inhuman moans. It was a terrifying concerto, told with the violent emotions of those who played it, rather than by the notes composed.
"Don't worry." His voice was low and seductive, innately evil. "I'll come for you first, my little songbird. Oh, yes!" The terrified schoolgirl now began to shake, mouth opening in horror as she gripped the legs of the desk underneath which she sat. She screamed louder. "Yes, my canary! Sing for me! Sing!"
The handle was turned within a second, his laughter accompanying the light that now filtered into the room through the open door. "Oh, look at you! All lined up, just for me."
The yellow shafts dappled the floor with false serenity, trying to suggest a silver lining in the black cloud of the current predicament. But Lienne knew the truth, knew what was going to happen, what this "man" really was. There was a good reason he wore a mask, why he covered his eyes with white mesh cloth. This creature was a demon, and his eyes would betray the costume. Those same eyes that hungered. Always hungered – never sated.
The hunter searched for his prey. After a few glances about the art room filled with huddled children, he found his canary. But instead of letting his eyes rest upon his caged bird, he looked instead at the snake lying in wait next to her. Lienne had been debating for some time whether or not to shut her friend's mouth closed with a slap to the jaw. Perhaps they might live longer, she reasoned.
"You! Come here. I've got a surprise for those mean eyes of yours. Those mean eyes that want to silence my poor canary."
She looked to her teacher, who had fainted long before. The art mentor was draped over her teacher's chair, head lolling to the side. Lienne wasn't sure why she smiled at this. The perfect situation, perhaps. Or imperfect, depending on whose point of view you saw the scenario from.
She also thought upon why she wasn't scared. Perhaps because she knew this was a dream. Perhaps the reason was more akin to insanity. Or, perhaps, she was simply used to dealing with demons in the games she played. It's not real. No point in being scared of something that only exists in a video game.
She pushed herself out from under the art desk, rattling the clay and carving knives sitting atop the plateau. Her friend reached for her, grabbed Lienne's arm. The hand was cold and sweaty, and it slipped off Lienne's limb, leaving streaks of salty residue behind. Lienne felt it evaporating off her skin, cooling her flesh.
"Don't go." The girl pleaded. "Don't do it."
It's a wonder you can speak after all the racket you've been making. Lienne just smiled reassuredly, giving the girl's wet hand a squeeze.
She stood, shaking knees belying her calm exterior. Lienne walked over to the dark figure whose mask was stark ivory. It was devoid of life, as though the body had been slashed to let the blood flow out, until it was bled white.
He nodded encouragingly, gesturing with sickening hands for her to come closer. "Yes, that's it. Here, girlie. Come right here."
She saw the glint of a clay carving knife next to her, and Lienne's fingers reached for it. She purposely tripped over a chair, sending herself into the table, where she could quickly grab the dull, overused blade without his suspicion causing her to balk.
He chuckled. "You alright there, missy? Just come here. I've got a surprise for you."
She stepped closer, each footfall a thundering crash on the linoleum. The space between them, the hostage and the captor, stretched for miles. She stepped with conviction, however, and resolutely paved the way to his doom.
"A surprise!" His voice shot into the darkness, ringing in resonance with the steel pipes that lined the ceiling. "A surprise, you snake!"
She was finally close enough to see the specks of lint on his coat. The wood grain of the axe. The chips in the blade. She was finally close enough to –
Lienne slashed the knife across his throat, tearing him a new maw. The unsharpened steel ran through his flesh like a dull butter-knife through bread. She needed to tug so it would slice through the thick, dense sinews, and tug she did. Gasps sounded out behind her, as she butchered the demon responsible for the school's lockdown.
He clawed at the gaping chasm that was his throat – angry red flesh expelled blood in flooded streams – and let the axe drop with a thud. Wet life spewed onto her clothes, her face. Every drop that fell upon her flesh burned like dry ice. But she wasn't done.
Lienne jerked the carving knife from his throat –a fitting name, carving knife – then stabbed it through the demon's stomach, hoping to wrench the bowels from his belly. She was murderous, and no one could stop her.
"Enough!" A new voice boomed out from above her. "It is done."
The scene disappeared. She was alone in a blank white room, blood dripping from the knife she still held in her hand. For a few moments, all she heard was the tranquil drip of liquid onto tile. It sounded like water. For some reason, that made Lienne smile. You'd only know it was someone's insides dripping onto the floor if you looked down. How ironic. Water and lifeblood, both paramount, both as generic as a leaky faucet. Lienne's knuckles were white, looking themselves as though they had been bled dry. A window then appeared on the far side of the white walls, and a grotesque creature huddled behind the translucent glass. What happened? Is this a continuation of the dream?
"Yes, she has passed. The only one." The creature said in an aside to a phone. Clearly, the words weren't meant for her. "No! He's here? Already? Yes, I'll grab her." A phone was slammed, and a button pressed. She heard a small beep.
Suddenly, a door opened up next to the window. It appeared out of nowhere, and through it, the creature came toward her. Its hands were claws bent at odd angles, arms like writhing tentacles. The body moved with fluidity and inhuman grace – somehow it managed to keep its rolls of flesh going on in a straight line as it sauntered over to her.
"What are we going to do with you? You somehow survived. Now you'll be able to traverse between the two realms. Interesting . . . interesting . . ."
Yellow teeth were displayed as it opened its mouth. Its breath was rancid and rank, smelling much like Lienne thought the demon she had killed might smell, given a few days in the sun. Claws touched her tender skin, but before it could get a firm grip upon her limb, a silver blade sprouted from its many folds of scaled fat. His face lost its snarl, horror instead overcame the hungered eyes. Lienne looked down, watching with fascination. The seemingly spectral blade was pushed further, twisted savagely for good measure. The end of the sword that greeted her was covered in red and brown, with some noxious, viscous fluid gliding down past the thicker, denser blood. She imagined it was stomach acid, but she wasn't too sure.
"You alright there, kid?" Her savior made himself known, stepping out from behind the carcass.
He wrenched the sword from the monster's belly with a sucking sound. The blade seemed to want to stay in the bowels of the beast. With a sigh, the wielder of the weapon this time actually put a minute amount of effort into the pull, now easily dislodging the blade.
"I hate it when dead bodies put up a fight."
Lienne gazed at her savior, transfixed. "I . . . I . . ."
The handsome man smiled. "I tend to have that effect on people. Especially women." He winked.
"I know you!"
The silver-haired man chuckled, rubbing his five o'clock-shadow with a shrug. "I doubt it. But if you want to tell yourself that, go right ahead."
"You're Dante."
The smile fled from his face, replaced by a deep frown. "That's my name . . . Question is, how does a little lady such as yourself know it?" Eyes flashing, he flicked his head, letting the silver stands of hair fall into neat formation on either side of his face.
"Because . . . because this is –"
What am I going to say? A dream? Why doesn't it feel like a dream? Why is everything so visceral, so tangible –
"Look, kid, are you going to answer me, or are you going to be staring at my handsome face all night? I know, I know, it's quite the picture, but –"
Lienne couldn't help herself. She laughed. "Oh, jeez! You're every bit as cocky as the game made you out to be. I mean, I always gave your character the benefit of the doubt, especially since you had such strong conviction to protect innocents."
His smirk only deepened. "Ri-ight. I'm guessing this is the part where I call you insane."
He glanced back at the ajar door impatiently, then back to Lienne. He noticed she still had questions, so he tried his best not to fidget.
"What is this place?"
"Good question. Before I answer that . . ." Dante gestured to the dripping weapon in Lienne's hand. She shrugged.
"I don't know. I thought it was a carving knife for our clay sculptures. We had to use really tough clay in that dream . . . but was it a dream? It was a scenario or something that demon in the booth cooked up. The school went into lockdown, then that demon broke in. Then I killed it. Then everything vanished. But if he could make everything disappear in a second . . . I don't see why this" she held up the knife, waving it around, spraying droplets about in arcs, "didn't evaporate into the aether, as well."
" 'Evaporate into the aether', huh?"
"Oh. Well, 'aether' is this weird body of nothingness philosophers –"
The devil hunter chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. "I know what you meant, kid. I'm just surprised, 's all."
Her eyebrows knit in irritation. Lienne began to fidget, rocking back and forth on her heels and tapping the back of the knife on her palm. "'Surprised?'" The tapping became more aggressive, and Dante watched as angry red marks formed with every whack. She didn't seem to notice. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. Can you answer my question, now?"
Dante flicked his hand in a two-fingered point towards the door. He began to walk, and Lienne hastened to catch up. "We're in something akin to a Hell Gate. I'm going to assume you know what that is because you didn't look very surprised - for someone who was being attacked by a demon. Am I right in that assumption?"
"You could say that." She was taking two quick steps for every one of his long strides. Lienne was having trouble keeping pace. Soon, they reached the ajar door and made their way inside the booth.
"Consider yourself lucky. You just took part in an insane test demons have been giving to innocents, such as yourself. You were transported into a realm of Hell. Everything you did in that realm happened. Everything you touched was real. Everyone else you saw . . ." He picked up a stack of CDs that were sitting on the table and flipped through them, "was most likely a demon."
"Huh." Lienne rubbed her shoulder, which had become increasingly tense as the . . . night? was it night? went on. She heard light clacking as Dante looked through the odd CDs. They had interesting labels on them. All she could tell was that they weren't music CDs. "So . . ." She began conversationally, "I guess I'm a bona fide demon-killer, now."
"Ha!" Dante laughed, clapping her on the shoulder so hard, she almost smacked her face into the floor. "You're real funny, kid."
He rummaged around in the room for a bit, moving aside stacks of papers and various CDs. "It looks like you guys were being recorded. There's tons of tapes here!"
Lienne began to join in the rummaging. Opening a closet to the left of the control panel where the window was, she was aghast to find hundreds of CDs, stacked lazily, arranged by date. The ones on the top were the closest to the date she remembered living in . . . the rest fell back from that date, with labels like, "Loan 1973 EY", and "Johannes, 1926 EY". She guessed "EY" meant Earth Years.
"Hey, kid! I found yours. Wanna watch it?"
Not waiting for a response, he popped it into the control panel. The window went dark, then showed the art room. Lienne wasn't sure where the image came from. There was no projector in the room, just that glass panel that she called a window. She looked around for the source of the image, forehead furrowed with trenches of concentration.
"Re-lax," Dante cooed, relaxing himself. He had his feet up on the panel, was seated in a leather office chair, and somehow managed not to press any buttons, even though his heels were on top of dozens.
That's demon blood for you.
She sat down beside him, in a similar office chair.
They watched.
For some reason, only the latter part of her trial had been recorded. The recording opened up with Lienne standing. Her friend's arm came up to stop her, looking just how Lienne remembered it.
Then Lienne began to walk over to the demon. She tripped on the table. She walked again. She stabbed the demon in the neck.
"Holy crap, kid! I'm surprised you had the balls to do that."
"Wait for it." Lienne replied, resting her forehead on the control panel where there weren't any buttons. I'm no half-demon. I'd end up pressing every button on this stupid table. With my luck, I'd start the self-destruct sequence. She began rubbing her temples. Voice strained: "It gets even worse."
Dante watched silently, impressed or not, Lienne couldn't tell. But she didn't need to look at the screen. She heard the tearing and ripping. The screams bubbling up from the demon's throat. Her small grunt, as she plunged the tiny blade into the thing's belly, pushing it deeper and twisting it until a river of blood washed over her feet.
The macabre sounds ended, and she heard the creak of the office chair as Dante stood.
His voice was quieter now, much softer. She didn't even want to make a guess as to why. "Come on, kid. Let's get you somewhere safe."
After eons of traversing through the abandoned warehouse, they found themselves outside. The night was brisk and unforgiving. A homeless man sat hunched over a makeshift book, trying to read in the dim light of the flickering streetlamp overhead.
The streets were slick with rain, rain that brought all the smells of the city right up to her nose. She tried not to slip. Lienne wrinkled her nose, not wanting to let any of the dank rot into her respiratory system.
"Where are we?"
The devil hunter took a moment to respond, watching the greenish puddles of putrid pestilence that threatened to attack his boots. He avoided them easily with grace, but in exchange he constantly had to keep watch for the impending miniature lakes. "Near my shop, actually. I'm surprised I never noticed this little 'demon snuff-film business'." Dante shrugged, then lightly leapt over another puddle. Lienne didn't have as much luck. "Eh, well. They've been keeping quite the low profile."
With a grimace, Lienne shook her foot in disgust for a moment. Dante didn't even notice, and continued walking.
Quickly, she caught up. After a few moments of silent wandering, Dante uttered the question Lienne knew had been coming. "You live around here, kid? Have some place I can drop you off?"
She rubbed her neck, cold fingers inciting goosebumps to form on her vulnerable skin. "Let's just say . . . I'm foreign."
Needless to say, Dante was surprised. The half-devil turned a bit while he walked, trying to catch glimpses of her expression as he mulled over her response."Uh . . . well, do you have any friends living in these parts?"
Lienne suppressed the urge to sigh. "No."
Dante couldn't suppress his own urge. He released a cynical sough into the air, and the airborne carbon dioxide mingled with the humid atmosphere. Under his breath, he grumbled, "I swear, every stray . . ."
With a noncommittal shrug, the mildly irritated man waved away his qualms. "Whatever. Fine. Stay with me." Dramatically pointing his sword at her in a chastising fashion: "But don't go complaining about the mess; I've heard enough nagging about it already."
Lienne smiled, already knowing what his place looked like. "Don't worry about it. It's better than sleeping on the street."
Dante just snorted. "Yeah? We'll see how you feel when you've encountered the thousands of pizza boxes lying on the floor. You'll probably rather sleep in the alley."
Lienne returned his snort with a derisive one of her own. "I highly doubt that."
As they continued walking, Lienne marveled at the shops and bars that lined the streets. It was so quiet, dead. There was nary a soul out. It almost seemed like a state fair after dark, the ominous rides and attractions yearning for visitors that never came.
After wandering in a general northern direction, the pair finally made it to Dante's shop. The sign above the doors was confidant and bright: "Devil May Cry".
"After you." Dante opened the door for her, gesturing grandly with his arm for Lienne to step into the shop. She nodded her thanks, looking at the squalid hovel.
"Man. You weren't kidding. Well, except about the pizza boxes. Those were definitely exaggerated."
He laughed, then gestured to the couch. "You can crash there, if you want. Bed's upstairs. But I doubt you'll want to sleep on that."
Lienne's lips upturned, and she went over to the red plush sofa, the only clean thing in the room. "Thanks, Dante."
Holding up a hand to display nonchalance, Dante amicably replied. "Don't mention it. Just get some shuteye."
He proceeded up the stairs, then came back down, tossing her a few blankets and a pillow.
"Night, kid."
Lienne wasn't too sure how to reply. She was surprised Dante was being this hospitable; he had a reputation of being fairly self-interest centered. She settled upon a response that wasn't too sycophantic, nor too indifferent:"See you in the morning."
She settled into her makeshift bed, letting the new world settle upon her. But she couldn't ignore a noise that rasped annoyingly - ever-present and obnoxious: the fan was clacking. Over and over, the sound grated against Lienne's ears. She was surprised Dante fixed it, after that brawl in the beginning of the third game. Eventually, the clacking became a drone, and it lulled her to sleep.
She dreamt to find herself in a lake of the dead. A light shower of grey water fell from above, small drops quickly drenching her. The back sky thundered overhead, the pool of water she stood in reflected its anger.
Lienne saw a figure clad in blue lying in the middle of the shallow lake. The light patter of rain could be heard percussing against his thick coat.
Well, look who it is. How did Dante's brother end up in my dream?
She watched, transfixed. Vergil stood, breathing heavily, as the three lights of Mundus flared in the sky. The swordsman drew his choice weapon, saying something to himself. Lienne couldn't hear what he spoke, but she remembered the dialogue from the end of the game. He was going to try and defeat Mundus. The fool. Icy water lapped at her feet. She looked down and saw dead faces. They screamed silently, right beneath the crystalline surface. Their expressions were broken by the rain, however, as the ripples ripped through the glass-like liquid.
She tore her eyes from the water, to look back at Vergil. He began to run, dark water almost seeming to part for him.
"STOP!" Lienne's voice shot through the dank air towards Dante's brother, halting him. "Don't! You'll die!"
Vergil's body stilled, ramrod straight. His eyes immediately found Lienne's. The expression in them chilled her to the bone. She couldn't discern what he felt, just that whatever emotion it was caught her heart and wrenched it. Suddenly, the dream seemed too real. The water was ice; she could no longer feel her feet. Her pants were soaked; denim clung to her like a second skin.
She couldn't discern his expression. Nonetheless, the young man didn't seem very perturbed by her adamant utterance. "I'll die, will I?"
The distraught young woman tried to keep her voice as strong and demanding as possible, but could barely control the shiver in her throat. "You're injured, and you want to go against the Devil King? Don't be an idiot. You need to get out of here, before he gains control of you!"
Vergil's eyebrows drew together in a rare expression of unrestrained anger. He snapped the words at Lienne, but to her relief, he turned away from the glowing orbs hovering overhead, and faced her. "It's far too late. The portal has closed."
Lienne pointed a long finger at the sky, where the red orbs crackled with electricity. "If you try to fight him, you'll end up becoming his thrall."
His voice was short, clipped. Like cold steel. "How do you know this?"
How can I convince him? How can I prove it? She wrung her hands together, twisting fingers to the point of drawing pain. "Because I've seen it!"
Vergil sliced his sword through the rain. Lienne was held in terror at his ability. The rain parted, and he sheathed his sword in that familiar dramatic way, twirling it, droplets of water spinning off. Then the master of swords slid the back of Yamato along its sheath, finally letting it glide back into its home.
He stood still a few moments, simply letting the rain caress his skin with its supple chill. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. Lienne waited anxiously to hear his words."Who are you?"
The answer came quickly, before she could restrain her apprehension. "I'm Lienne." The young lady then paused, thoughtfully rubbing her chin. "I know this is just a dream, so you probably sheathed your sword because my consciousness willed it. But nonetheless, thank you."
His killer eyes narrowed. The master of swords soon began to stride towards her, ever so slowly. She felt the intimidation he exuded fall upon her, causing her hands to clench in silent fear. The water barely splashed as he moved; Vergil walked with natural grace.
Suddenly, he stood before her. Lienne's breath caught, seeing him so close. Rain traced his expression, droplets framing his strong face. She watched in rapture as a glistening drop ran down his jaw. She couldn't believe how beautiful he was. Just like Dante, but with an intrinsic elegance that made her heart flutter. With a mental shake, she forced herself to look back up at the half-devil's eyes. She found a stony expression waiting for her, and felt suffocated by his searching look.
"This is no dream."
Lienne woke with a gasp, flailing her arms about. She tumbled onto the ground, crashing to the floor painfully, earning herself a laugh from Dante.
"Now that's an interesting way to wake yourself up. Better than an alarm clock, I bet."
She moaned, resting her forehead on the ground. Wiping the drool from her mouth with the back of her hand, she asked groggily: "What time is it?"
"Pretty late." He was leaning against his desk, nonchalantly messing with an apple. Dante tossed the spherical fruit in the air, catching it with the point of his gun, then tossed it up again. "You slept in even later than me. I'm impressed."
Another pained groan rose from her throat, and she let herself drop fully onto the ground. Lienne lay like a beached fish, finally having given up on trying to find its way back to the ocean. "You got any ibuprofen?"
The half-devil made a face of exasperation. He bit into the apple, a large crunch sounding out. "Oh, quit your whining, kid. Go take a shower or something."
She pushed herself off the floorboards, hair askew and messy.
Dante couldn't help but smile.
With the half-demon's loud chewing as her theme song, Lienne made her way over to the stairs, stumbling the whole time. Her feet dragged on the treads, and she almost tripped. Somehow, the dazed teenager made it up, and Dante heard the door to the bathroom click closed.
Surprised, the devil hunter noted Lienne had left a trail of water. He hadn't even noticed she was wet. His eyes narrowed in thought. The water looked familiar, for some reason. It was a deep, dead grey, and didn't soak into the flooring like normal water would have.
As the shower ran, he sat down at his desk, fingering the butterknife-like blade from the night before. Glancing towards Lienne's makeshift bed, Dante gazed at the mass of blankets that had fallen onto the floor, seeming for all the world like guts spewed from the sofa's belly. He shook his head, then blew silver hair out of his face with a chuckle. "She'd better clean up this mess. I'm sure as hell not going to."
Author's Note:
All right! This chapter takes place right after Devil May Cry 3's ending.
P.S. Keep in mind the Dante being portrayed here is from right after DMC3, and will therefore be a lovable and go-lucky badass.