Devil May Cry: Witches and Warlocks
Crossover of DMC and Bullet Witch
Disclaimer: DMC is not mine, though I'm sure most people do wish it was theirs. Bullet Witch for the 360 is also not mine.
Author's Note: Italics are flashback or recounting moments. Single quote marks indicate thought (''). Double quote means . . . duh, speech. Italics inside of double quotation marks is telepathy.
Party One: The Invitation
September 21, 2013
Earth's population is below one billion. Rough estimates from remaining refugee camps and resistance groups put the current human population at 7.5 million people left alive. What happened to put the world in such a crisis?
Demon invasion.
From a single point deep within the forests of what was once Germany seven years ago; a spawning gate ripped open in a deep pit riddled with earthen spires. Populations began to dwindle first in 3rd world countries and unprepared 2nd world nations. The United Nations had swiftly formed an alliance to countermand the threat, but the appearance of the giants of the demon plane had caused them to fall to despair.
Not a full year had passed and the term 'nations' was no more. The only thing left remaining was patches of U.S. Military survivors and handfuls of civilians forced to live in constant fear . . .
. . . not that Dante could care less. The son of Sparda propped his feet on the desk he was at as he reached for the pizza on his plate. The few people left alive who had money were constantly calling the place for his skills. Granted, he didn't like the fact that humans were nearly extinct, but business was business. If someone could stop the invasion and purge all the other demons . . . that was fine with him. He wasn't going to do it though. The legend of Sparda was not something he wanted to make for himself, couldn't stand the thought of constant celebrity status.
Trish lounged on the plush sofa to his right. Her long blond hair and black satin dress flowed over the sides of her napping spot like a gold and onyx river. Dante couldn't help but smirk at her. The spitting image of his mother, which he still couldn't get over every once in a while; she slept on the sofa just like he remember his mother doing; with a handgun in her right hand as it dangled off the side. He never did figure out how she slept with a gun in her hand like that.
Regardless, the devil hunter's partner was getting a well deserved rest after the most recent jobs they'd accepted.
A slew of Giests had been mingled among the standard dark rabble that usual frequented a peculiar section of downtown Paris. Why would Dante set up shop in France? The answer was simple, pizza. The genuine article and not the Americanized stuff; of course it helped that Trish preferred real European cuisine to American food.
Regardless, ever since the news of the demon numbers decreasing with no signs of flaring back up, Dante figured some time off of work was long overdue. Information brokers, who weren't dead or maimed, had brought news that a woman in black with a giant broom styled gun was responsible. They had also mentioned that she wielded demonic powers. The two Demon Hunters laughed so hard at the man who told them that, that he demanded more money for not taking him seriously.
Not that either of them had cared about the extra money lost. If only people knew exactly who Dante was and how Trish came about. Then people wouldn't start trusting each other anymore.
He'd seen the woman's face on the local paper and had to admit she had a nice face. Not much else could be commented on since that was the only thing the photographer could manage. Rumor had it that the woman had glared at him so harshly after the flash that he pissed his pants and ran the other way.
'Guess he didn't want a lightning bolt called down on him.'
The woman's fight to exterminate all demons running around earth did interest him though. Especially since the recent title given to her had been something they shared in common . . . guns.
"Hmph, Bullet Witch."
He smirked at the invitation slip on his desk as he took another slice from the box. It was requesting his presence at a demon hunt. Personally, he didn't want to get involved, but the payoff looked pretty sweet. On top off that, the sender mentioned that he'd be showing up today anyway; might as well hear him out.
Just outside the doors to the Devil May Cry location, a man in a long black trench coat grinned at the fluorescent sign. The uniquely crafted Japanese styled blade at his side pulsed with power and empathy toward its master. The long suitcase in his right hand glistened as rain poured down from the gathered clouds. Inside it lay a pair of custom made weapons from his own design. The Redgraves had made them to his exacting specifications and they had yet to let him down; considering that in the past six months they had slain literally thousands of demons together.
"Heh, 'Devil May Cry'?"
The two men thought in sync as the newcomer lifted his foot to kick in the doors.
'This'll be interesting!'
Short first chapter! Up Next: Party 2: Paint the Town Red . . . Blood Red
Read and Review and I might get another chapter up!