A/N: Hey everyone. This is the first fic I ever wrote. I started right after DMC3 was released and I'm going back and filling in some gaps and adding more details. Please read and review because I'd really like to hear some feedback about it. Anyways, here it is, Frozen in Time. It's rated M because Dante has a potty mouth for the most part, and it has a pretty good amount of violence.
Ting! The entrance bell rang animatedly. A tall, sandy-blond haired woman entered the, um, establishment, and proceeded to the barkeep. "66 Slum Avenue, eh?" said she, reciting the place's address. "That seems...fitting," she observed while eyeing a girl younger than her swing around a pole to the beat playing over the P.A. And I'm only 22. Wonder if she's even legal.
"Listen sweet thing. Are you here just to run your mouth or are you gonna buy somethin'? Maybe you wanna put in an application here," he said suggestively, noticing her outfit. A purple undershirt, with a black rider jacket, a pair of black skinnys with purple stitch, and black boots.
"All right, pops. Listen here," she started, "I'm not gonna play games." She shifted her body so the sword on her back glinted in the club light. He got the point.
"All right ma'am. I am at your service." He bowed as far as the bar in front of him would allow.
"Just tell me where I can find Dante and you'll never see me again," she replied coolly.
"Well that's a shame..." She shifted again and he noticed a pistol on her hip. "But since I like you," - she scowled - "he's right down the street," he finished with a sigh.
As she walked out the door the barkeep called after her, "Listen, sweetheart. If you ever want to come back, there'll be a job waiting."
He heard her reply as the door closed, "You're pushing it, pops."
Ting! The bell signaled her exit. That damn thing is so annoying. I need to get it replaced. He recollected on the now slightly odd event. Not many people ever askfor Dante. They're usually runnin' from him. And of the few that have, she's the first girl. He don't treat strangers with kindness. Come to think of it, I never seen anyone who asked for him come back through. Oh well, she looked kinda tough. She can probably handle herself. He absentmindedly took a glass off the shelf and began to polish it, never giving the strange girl another thought.
The girl started down the street, eyeing the shadows cautiously. As close as she was to Dante, there had to be at least one or two lower-level demons in the area. As she walked she noticed the strange shadow cast by her own curvy body. Something just wasn't right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Is it moving on its own? No, can't be...
"Get out of the way, babe! You've got a Shadow on your tail." She turned to the voice, but all she saw was a streak of red and a flash of silver; he moved way too fast.
She didn't seeanything after that. All she heardwas a wicked laugh, the slice of a sword as it carved through the air and an inhuman creature's screams as it took its dying breaths. As merciful as the laughing man was, those screams were soon silenced by means of a large, chunky-looking black pistol. She turned round fast enough to see the silver-haired man still standing there, pistol raised and ready, and the remains of the demon crumpled on the ground, its soul, though invisible to the human eye, slinking back down to the Hell from whence it came.
"I assume you are Dante. Am I correct?" The woman's voice was business-like as well as her posture.
"Depends. Who's asking?" the man replied nonchalantly.
"I am. Now are you or are you not Dante?" The woman's voice became like the winter wind and the man did not miss its biting sting.
"Listen lady, I just saved your human life and you start questioning me like I'm a fucking inconvenience to you! As a matter of fact, yes I am Dante, but I don't see how's any of your damn business!" Dante was seething. Humans are so ungrateful! You save their life and they chew you out for it.
"I'm here for your help, and maybe also to help you." This statement puzzled Dante and his interest was written all over his face.
"How could you possibly help me?" Seriously, here was this human chick whom he just had to save, and she said she could help him?
"You regret the loss of Vergil, right?" How one simple question could strike such a cord in the devil-hunter's heart can only be understood by those who have lost someone very close to them.
She saw it, the split-second of pain that spread across his visage like wildfire, but it was so quickly replaced by a stony expression she couldn't be sure she actually saw it. "Again, none of your business." His reply wasn't harsh, but hollow and remorseful.
Immediately feeling sorry, she worded her next statement carefully. "Well, you don't have to be. He's alive, you know. After you defeated him on Mallet Island, his soul returned to the Underworld, and to his real body."
All Dante could manage to say was,"How?"
"After the events on Mallet Island, the Underworld was thrown into total chaos. With no leader, the higher ranking generals vied for power while the lesser demons picked sides and joined the generals' factions. Amidst all this, Vergil's soul found its way back to his body, and he escaped."
Dante was, for once in his life, absolutely speechless as different thoughts flowed through his mind. After a few seconds, he spoke the one most obvious one. "How did he get out of there? Surely the generals would have tried to stop him?" Dante thought back to his encounters with Mundus' generals on Mallet Island. Phantom, Griffon, and Nightmare-they were all vicious creatures with insatiable blood-lust.
"Surprisingly, no. They knew that Vergil was the strongest of them all, and so they thought that if they let him leave, each of them would have an actual chance at the throne."
Well that doesn't surprise me. "That's a good story and all, but there's one problem," Dante stated matter-of-factly.
"What?"
"How the hell do you know all this?"
"Well, I happen to know Vergil very well."
"The hell you do! I don't know a damn thing about what he's been doing for oh, about the last ten years, and I'm his twin for God's sake!" Then it clicked with Dante. And he did one of the only things that would get him into trouble that he couldn't get out of. He said exactly what was on his mind.
"So you and him are," he made little gestures with hands, "together?"
Luckily for him, she didn't catch his drift. "That's none of your concern. Anyways, he needs your help. He sent me to find you. So, are you going to help him or not?"
"What the hell does he need myhelp for? He's a Son of Sparda, same as me. He should have no problems taking care of whatever gets thrown at him. I've been just fine all these years without his help."
"He said you'd say that and to remind you about Arkham."
"Hell no! He started that shit and I cleaned up after him! If he hadn't been on a world conquest and tried to raise that fucking tower, none of that shit would have ever happened!" Dante was seething now. What the fuck is he thinking? That dumbass. I ought to let him stay there and rot.
"Hey man, don't shoot the messenger here."