Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma ½ or any of its characters. Same goes for Devil May Cry.
Prologue
She walked dragging her feet, she was tired and her stomach had been rumbling for hours. She had a feeling she would collapse soon if she didn't eat. The sun had disappeared and she still had no idea where she was and where she was going. Her thoughts drifted to Kasumi's cooking, and she could almost taste the perfect misu soup as she pictured it in her head. She groaned. Thinking about food wasn't helping.
She shook her head to banish the tormenting images and raised her head to look around again.
This was a real crumby neighbourhood, it seemed that most of the streetlamps had been busted so was little light to see by. With all the closed down shops, and derelict buildings this place seemed to be an abandoned commercial district of some sort. She came to the end of the road not really expecting to find anything other than more empty buildings, but she saw light seeping through from under the main door of one of the storefronts. The windows were boarded up and there was a sign painted sloppily above the door in red paint 'Devil May Cry'. She didn't have a clue what it meant. Maybe it was one of those silly black magic shops that sold phoney merchandise. She didn't really care. It was a shop and the light was still on, so she had a chance of getting something to eat or at least something to drink. She made her way to the red door and gave a gentle push, forcing the door open with a creak. She hoped whoever worked here wasn't stingy, because she sure as hell didn't have any money.
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He sat there at his desk, feet on the table cleaning his guns; he didn't really have anything else to do. T.V sucked as usual and he didn't have any jobs to be thinking about. Well for once he was sorta glad he had nothing to do, he'd been through enough shit recently, slaying giant arachnids and all. It was fun but tiring. Now it was time for him to sit back and relax. He sighed as he looked at the empty beer on his desk. Getting another one would mean he would have to get up. He should probably just hook up a small fridge next to his desk, but thinking about it he realized that it was way too much bother.
There was an unmistakable creaking that signalled the opening of the front door.
His lazy thoughts were laid aside and his attention immediately lay upon the door to his office as it was opened. For a while, whatever it was that out there just waited in the darkness. Then, as he was about to get up and investigate with one of his now loaded guns, a small figure stepped out from the darkness of the street and into the light. What he saw immediately set him on edge. It was a little girl; she looked Asian in descent with long red hair that reached down to her calves and deep sapphire eyes. She wore a pair of grey mittens and a vastly oversized ragged red shirt that went down to her knees. He blinked. Since when did Asians have blue eyes and red hair?
He raised his arm and pointed the gun at her face. 'Just who the fuck are you?' he asked with narrowed eyes. Something that looked this cute, strolling around a neighbourhood like this at night had to be evil.
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Ranma stared down the barrel of the gun. The mechanisms of her mind seemed to cease functioning as she was transfixed by the thing held in the mans hand. She had, after all, never had a gun pointed at her face before. She knew she was fast, but she knew bullets were faster. She knew she could take a beating, but didn't think she could take a bullet to the head and live to tell the tale. This situation wasn't looking very good. The man had asked her a question; she couldn't remember what it was. Damn, she had to say something. She had to say something or the man might shoot her. Problem was she couldn't think right now so she said what came into her mind first, what the pain in her stomach told her to say.
"I was just a little hungry," she said with a nervous smile.
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That was all that Dante needed to hear. He had seen this kind of thing before and was too experienced to fall for such a twisted trick. This was no child. This creepy monstrosity had merely had taken on the image of a cute little girl in order to make a meal out of him. Without hesitation he pulled back on the trigger, launching of a salvo of bullets one after the other.
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Time seemed to slow for Ranma, as she saw the slight movement of the hand holding the gun. She knew the bullets would be coming. Instinct took over she dived to the left. She seemed to move unbearably slow as she watched the bullets leave the gun one after another and move towards her in slow motion. She was moving too slow! She wasn't going to make it in time! The first bullet struck her in the shoulder and ripped right through, throwing her backwards on her falling trajectory. The second bullet caught her in the chest as she spun from the impact of the first. The rest only found air as she fell to the floor, blood spilling from her shoulder and chest wound.
Lying on her back Ranma stared at the ceiling, in too much shock to acknowledge the pain. She had been shot.
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"OH FUCK" he shouted in horror as he watched the red liquid collecting on the floor. It was blood, human blood. It is what his senses told him and they never lied. What had he just done?
He shook the gun out his hand in disgust, vaulted over his desk and ran to the fallen girl. Going down on his knees to examine the wounds. The wound to the shoulder was nasty, looking like an artery had been hit. He took his red jacket off and tore material from his shirt and tightly wrapped it around the wound it the desperate hope that it would somehow lessen the loss of blood. The makeshift bandage quickly turned red and started to leak. He didn't have time to dwell on the wound. He looked at the gaping hole in her chest that was rising unevenly accompanied by a disturbing blend of wheezing and gurgling sounds as she breathed. Bone fragments stuck out haphazardly in a mess of torn tissue.
"Fuck" he muttered.
One of her lungs had been punctured and she was bleeding severely from the wound. He wouldn't be able to stop the bleeding with a bandage. Sitting there in the pool of her blood he felt utterly lost. It had been so easy to pull the trigger, to destroy in moments what had taken years to form. Why was it so damned hard to save a life when it was so easy to take it away?
The girl grabbed at his shirt as her wheezing breaths became more and more frantic. He gently supported her body in a sitting position with his arms. She was so small; she weighed practically nothing in his arms.
"I...I'm so sorry" he whispered brokenly, unable to look into her impossibly blue eyes, fearing the accusation that would lie there. After a few moments he felt the girls grip on his shirt weaken as she went limp in his arms. The room grew silent as her laboured breathing ceased.