UPDATE: 23/06/11 - Wow, I first wrote this like five years ago. This was my first DMC fic and pretty much the first serious fanfic I ever wrote. Despite writing it so long ago I still kinda like it, but looking back over it my lack of practice at writing really shows. So then! I have decided to go back over this entire story and edit it to correct spelling errors, typos etc, and to generally tidy the whole thing up and make it easier to read. Even if you've read this fic before, maybe you could check it out again once I'm done cleaning it up - it's been so long since I first uploaded this that maybe you might enjoy reading it again.

DMC: End of the Line SE

PART I

The bright neon sign flickered in the morning light. The words - Devil Never Cry. Officially it was a Mercenary/Security firm for hire. Unofficially, it was a devil hunting agency ran by a select group of elite demon killers. If a job involved supernatural forces, malevolent spirits or infernal threats to humanity, Devil Never Cry would be there to fight it without fail.

Except that for the past six months it had not accepted a single job. The simple reason behind this was that for the last six months there had been no demonic activity to investigate or combat. Nothing. No monsters. No creatures. Nothing going bump in the night. It was all quiet. Too quiet, even.

Trish sat behind the front desk, legs crossed, head resting in her hands. Her long golden hair fell across one side of her face and her crystal eyes struggled to remain open. She was waiting for a call - for some sign of a potential job. They had all been waiting in vain for so long now. It was as if the Underworld had packed up and moved on.

It had in fact been quiet for so long now that, out of desperation, Dante had gone off in search of some ancient oracle in a bid to learn just what was going on. He'd been gone for nearly two weeks now and she'd heard nothing from him. She wasn't overly worried though - if anyone could take care of themselves the Legendary Son of Sparda could.

There was a click. Trish's eyes shot open and she jerked up, wide awake and alert in an instant. It was the front door. The handle was slowly turning. Silently she reached across and grasped the hilt of her weapon - the great Sparda sword, named after its legendary wielder - which rested against the side of the desk.

The door opened, and in strode Dante - white hair, red jacket and his Rebellion sword strapped across his back. Letting out a sigh of relief, Trish let go of the Sparda sword and stood up. "Dante," she said as the devil hunter himself closed the door behind him and wordlessly crossed the planked floor towards her,"Good to see you. I thought you were in Tibet though, searching for that oracle?"

Dante said nothing. He stopped in front of the desk and stared at her.

"Dante ... where's Lady?" Trish asked, puzzled by his demeanour. He at last opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted when the phone rang. Trish shot a look at it, then back at Dante who remained motionless in front of the desk. Frowning, Trish picked up the receiver and held it to her ear.

"Devil Never Cry," Trish announced.

"Trish?" came the crackling response.

"Lady? Is that you?"

"Yeah, just calling to check in and let you know everything's ok."

"Right. Where are you?"

The line was washed out by heavy static. After a few seconds it cleared and she heard Lady's voice perfectly again. "Sorry about that, weathers pretty bad up here. We stopped off at this village; we're just resting before the final leg. Think the Temple's not far from here."

"We? What do you mean? You're still in Tibet? Is Dante with you?"

More static. Then; "Of course. Why? Do you want to talk to him?"

A chill shot down Trish's spine. She looked up into the perfect features of the man she knew as Dante - standing a few feet in front of her on the other side of the desk. He was staring right at her with cool, unblinking eyes. She opened her mouth to speak and felt something hot and wet trickle down her cheek. Puzzled, she looked down.

Sticking in her chest was Dante's sword. She coughed and looked up into his clear, apathetic face.

"Trish? Trish is something wrong?" Lady called from the other end of the line. The receiver fell from Trish's hand and clunked onto the desk. Dante - or what looked like Dante - twisted his sword violently in her gut, then yanked it out in one swift motion. All sound and feeling had washed out from her as Trish found herself falling ...

Dante flicked the blood from his sword and calmly walked around the desk. With careful, deliberate movements he reached over and grasped the hilt of the Sparda sword with his free hand. On the desk, Lady's voice continued to shout over bursts of intermittent static, until Dante picked up the receiver and silently replaced it.

A/N: The first chapter! I thought that while I'm updating this and smoothing it over, I might make some observations, sort of retroactive thoughts, what I think of it looking back five years after writing it. This was okay for a start, though a bit short. These days I usually try and make my average chapter about 1.5k words at least.

And yes, I killed Trish off. I regret that now, because I actually like her character these days. I didn't really back then, which might have been why I killed her off. I might have been trying to keep the cast small to make it easier to write, though I'm not sure if I want to give myself that much credit. Honestly, I probably killed her off because I didn't like her at the time. If I were writing this now I definitely wouldn't kill her off, and would have written her into the overall story as a main character.

Also, the title of this fic sucks. I don't even know how I came up with it. By the time I'm finished editing this old thing I might actually change the title and bump it with a bonus chapter under a new name.