Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry or it's characters, nor am I making profit off of this written work.
So, with my fascination with Dante's doppelganger, I've decided to write little bits and pieces about what I imagine his dark side to be, and this stuff is what I came up with. 0_0
Rated M for violence, blood, gore and sexuality.
Trial
Night dawned with a fierce presence. The city awakened with colored lights illuminating dark crevices, filling the streets with copious amounts of joyous life prowling around in bliss.
Cynical, ignorant bliss.
Behind this show of camaraderie lied a dormant personality under each body of flesh, scouring for a drastic opportunity for their true inner selves to come to light. The widened smiles, the boisterous laughter, and the atmospheric positivity concealed the monsters awaiting freedom. Cages rattled against the carefully guarded control their owners tried so hard to keep.
It was pathetic.
The lies told to protect the truth under their masks came to such extreme prices, it garnered no marvel what lengths people will go through to guard it. The woman who pretended to be single when married with children pursued another, then blamed the husband for her dishonest actions. The district attorney who fought for a victim's justice retreated to underground sex clubs to indulge his desires from kidnapped, teenage boys. The grandfather who told each of his grandchildren he loved them equally left his last wishes to the only grandchild he could stand.
Such a waste it is to cover up the beautiful beast inside you.
A tall man walked along the plethora of writhing bodies, towering over most of the inhabitants staring with a variety of expressions. Women stared at his deep, crimson irises surrounded by onyx-hued sclearas. They gazed upon his shapely eyes, aquiline nose, succulent lips, and strong jawline dashed by stubble. Fingers twitched in longing anticipation to run them through ebony locks, and to rub sensuously on tawny skin.
Men sent wordless glares at his wide, muscular form, envy simmering in their beings over their diminutive statures and auras dwarfing against his own.
Hm, perhaps a few sad sacks of flesh let their inner monsters out of their cages while on a short leash, letting the internal beasts taste the rising jealousy in the air.
Ah, the aches emerging from the lacking attributes another wishes to possess filled the tall man with humor. So typical and naïve are humans to fantasize over mundane things, and it proved even funnier when they acted on them. It smothered the environment all around him. Women envied other women for their curvaceous figures, petite figures, small breasts, large breasts, short hair, long hair, thick legs, slim legs, eye color, nose shape, skin tone... all the superficial characteristics in an unattainable goal for perfection.
"Hey buddy, the gay rodeo ended in the 80's!"
And the males exclaimed their verbal bitterness proudly.
A group of four young males passed him, all aged around eighteen years old, made comments on his clothes. As it goes, his black outfit consisted of a replica of his maker. A long trench coat, a zip-up shirt, a belted holster, cowboy chaps, and gloves with the thumb and forefinger missing supplied his apparel. The smoke-gray jeans he wore underneath the chaps and his shoes were the only things breaking up the swarthy gear. He can pick other choices in clothing, but this served as his default choice... styled after another.
His biological nature thrived as... a shadow if you will, a doppelganger born out of Dante's antipathy and malice for his natural tendencies, what the hybrid bastard shoved deep inside his core to protect himself from others. The beast incarnate, mostly.
The tall man manifested from the repressed and corrupt soul of the half-human, half-demon devil hunter and this get-up inhabited the half-bred bitch's current garb, yet fashioned in a mixture of red and black. But he didn't mind it though, too much. Cowboy gear? Maybe. Flamboyant? Probably. Outlandish? That's up for debate. However, unlike the collective masses of mortal swine trying to impress each other with materialistic appearances, his attire has no bearing on who he is.
Besides, what's the point of enjoying a night on the town without having dinner?
"All dat dude's missin' is a hat and some rope. Careful Aaron, he might want you," the group continued heckling the man in the strange get-up, uncaring of their insensitive comments made towards him.
"Man, fuck you Randy. He yo' type! You can take dat Brokeback Mountain bitch and ride his rodeo." Aaron made tiny movements mimicking a rider bucking on a wild bull. More laughter from the teenagers erupted, gently shoving each other in lieu of the jokes told.
"Hey yo, cowboy. My homie wanna holla at 'chu-"
Behind the tan-skinned teen lied a scene devoid of the mystery man, leaving the only place he could have gone into was an alley. For good reason too, a weirdo strolling around like that at night didn't need to be seen by anyone. Aaron resumed walking when something caught his eye, imagining his shadow disappearing from the ground. He circled himself in confusion, his shadow seemed to have left him.
"Hey kid..."
This time he stopped and turned to view what stood to his back, seeing nothing out of the ordinary except the passerbys vacating the area.
"Dude, hurry up!" Randy yelled ahead of the group, ripping on the other members about their articles of apparel.
"Yeah... hey where did that freak go..."
A menacing growl erupted, Aaron increasing his footfalls towards his companions. The sickly sweet smell of rotten flesh and rancid piss suddenly scorched his nose; the growls emitted rising in volume. Shivers skimmed over his spine like he was in that alley somewhere behind him.
"Eh man, what the fuck you doin'?" Randy threw the complaint over his shoulder.
Prior to Aaron uttering a reply a large black overcloud formed in front of him, towering over his lanky physique after the shaded blockade smothered his frame. Through the murky curtain of obsidian fog, menacing crimson irises penetrated into his brown ones, the teen feeling his muscles tightening upon recognizing jagged, frost-white teeth morphing into a dreadful smile. He opened his mouth to scream, but his parched throat only allowed dry whimpers to escape.
Three young males heard a broken cry, followed by a throaty screech echoing against the walls surrounding them. Streetlamps dimmed and flickered, casting deep, jaded shadows throughout the avenue as the demented bellowing continued. A barren region claimed the street, as if nothing ever flourished here. The cars once lining the sidewalks earlier tonight had vanished along with the people. With the unspoken, mutual consensus that Aaron got into trouble they sprinted to the source to help their friend.
Before turning into the alley, a harsh gurgle pierced their ears. A bloody waterfall vaulted in a violent spray out of the back street. It soaked Randy to the bone, tumbling to the ground. The other members stopped and gasped in fear, breaths coming in shorter spurts, shaking their head in denial, hearing those cries come from Aaron. A stuttering wail broke through the stillness, igniting two of the teens to flee, leaving Randy all alone covered in the metallic, coppery scent.
A heavy dizziness settled in his mind, thoughts scrambling over each other to regain the concept of intellectual reasoning, but to no avail. The youth trembled with every monotonous breath expanding his lungs, exhaling with shuddering air wheezing out in sharp whispers. The physical impact of the sanguine liquid colliding into him stilled his movements, unable to control his body from a warm fluid running down his thighs. A jaw twitch forced his lower lip downwards, forming his mouth into an 'o' shape to speak.
Languid footsteps touched his hearing, his brain signals telling him to turn his head to see who made the noise but he remained motionless. The footfalls grew louder in sound until they halted in front of him, noticing booted feet and the lower half of black chaps...
"My, my. That was quite the rodeo. That young bull sure wasted no time once I jumped on his saddle!"
Randy couldn't speak, too swollen with fear to voice his horror. Slowly, and with great effort, he focused upwards at the man he thought wore funny clothes, licking his lips with an extended tongue to wipe blood off his cheek.
"I gotta to say―wait, it's Randy, right?" Dark beamed down at glassy eyes, unfazed by the terrified emotions fleeting through them. "Randy, I might have to come to you again for a recommendation to another wild ride. Fuck, that was tasty. What, he didn't smoke or drink because that boy is, or, well was pure. Aaron made a fine piece of steak!"
A tawny hand reached down and lightly patted his shoulder. The teen released a frightened shout, scooting away hurt and bewildered, staring at the man's lifted chin and wry smile. He appeared so calm and unflappable, abnormal eyes glittering in genuine mirth when the streetlamps stopped flickering. It signified this monster enjoyed doing this for a living.
Heavy boots turned to leave, hearing a throaty chuckle filling the eerie quietness of the night. "Oh, if we cross paths again, can you refer one whose head isn't so full of shit." A ruby-stained oval the size of a basketball rolled in Randy's direction from the alley, coming to a stop before him. His eyeballs skimmed downwards and produced a high-pitched cry, dry lungs hyperventilating; Aaron stared up at him with those large, brown eyes. "I wouldn't stomach that bullshit if it was the last thing on earth. See ya, buddy."
A light breeze picked up, billowing a black trench coat around the owner's lengthy legs. Debris scattered through the streets, carrying a scent sweeter than candy, tangier than pickles, juicer than fruit. To him, it presented a luxury abundant in its properties, able to nourish and satiate a desolate hunger purposefully sheltered by that hybrid mongrel. Ah yes, an abundance of time remained to cultivate and supply his energies from being starved for so long.
The beast had fully awakened, ready to devour inner demons belonging to any specimen and everything along with it.
"Oh, what a lovely evening this has been," chided Dark. A loud whistling of a tune aided his steps, vanishing into the clouded night like a creature born of stealth.
"A... Aron," Randy croaked, inching in small increments away from the decapitated skull. It pained him to do anything. Moving hurt his insides. Attempting to talk hurt his brain. Breathing in fresh copper made him nauseous. The incident happened too sudden to process, roving his soul into an indecisive state of mind. However, deep in his fragmented subconscious he knew this image will concoct into a beautiful nightmare for decades to come, constricting his sanity into a wasted individual.
The wind escalated, blowing the head closer to Randy's downed position. As blue eyes shined with pools of salted water, trembling lips let out a torrid scream.
Aaron's tilted head peered up at him, his mouth forming into a wide smile.
A/N: You know how Dante's always saying he doesn't kill or harm humans (much)? I think when the need gets so bad that he wants to do it, he represses the urge to do so, where as Dark Dante/doppelganger would indulge himself without feeling any type of way afterwards.
I'm off to do more. Ciao!