Devils in the Lagoon
By Nick W. (Servallier)
Chapter One
"Fuck this, I'm so fucking bored. Dutch, tell me we have a job coming up!"
The man looked at Revy, the source of all the noise, his expression as neutral as ever. "I'm sorry Revy, we've got nothing for a while. This is the slow time of year, you should know that by now."
"Fuck's sake…" Revy growled, flopping onto the couch and pulling a cigarette from the packet on the table. She brought it to her lips and lit it, taking a long drag and blowing out a long plume of smoke. "My cutlasses are getting cold from all this waiting, what about those recent murders? Any bounty on them? Surely Balalaika will have taken an interest by now, or any of the mafias… Anything to keep me amused."
Rock folded up his paper and put it aside for a moment. Looking at the half-Chinese woman. She was wearing her usual attire of tight shorts and a croptop. Not that Rock even registered this anymore, there was something about the woman that was a major turnoff for him… possibly the death threats that seemed to issue from her mouth almost every time she spoke to him. Still, that didn't seem to stop him from starting conversations with her.
"Look, Revy, why don't you take up a hobby, like drawing or something, try to make something, or even go target shooting, learn how to use some new weapons. Surely that's better than sitting around here doing nothing…"
Revy shot him a look that could curdle milk. "Shut the fuck up Rock, do you realise how boring that sounds. That's what you are Rock, fucking boring. We shoulda left you where we found you. Besides, I can fire pretty much every kind of weapon in any circumstances, you barely know your way around a pistol."
"It was just a suggestion." Rock mumbled, earning himself another glare, followed shortly by the familiar sight of the wrong end of Revy's customised pistol.
"There ya go again, making me want to put a bullet to you. Might be a good idea for you to stop talking before you really piss me off and give you an extra asshole between your fucking eyes."
Rock sighed, standing up and looking to Dutch to defuse the situation, which he did with his usual aplomb.
"Look, we're all a little stressed out from being cooped up for so long. How about we take a little trip to the Yellow Flag. I think it's been standing for over a month now, so Bao won't have too much of an issue with us being there. I think we could all do with a drink or three, what do you say?"
The words had barely left his mouth before Revy had leapt to her feet, a wide grin on her face. Dutch rolled his eyes underneath his shades, then turned to their resident tech specialist. "Benny, bring the car around before she explodes."
His red coat billowed out behind him as he walked, catching a wind that wasn't really there. In his hand was a large, padlocked guitar case, far bigger than would normally be needed. At his sides were a pair of pistols, one shining steel, the other dark as midnight. On the slide of the dark one the word "Ebony" was inscribed, the silvery one had "Ivory" on it. He walked with a confident grin, his eyes partially covered by his silvery hair, yet despite that colour, he looked like a young man, probably early twenties.
He stopped at the mouth of an alley, looking down it to see two spindly figures swathed in cloaks and carrying ornate scythes menacing a man who was cowering on the floor. With a derisive chuckle he pushed the hair out of his eyes, stuck two fingers into his mouth, and whistled. The figures turned and glared at him, their eyes burning with some kind of eldritch fire. One of them stepped forward and hissed "Whoooo aaarreee youuuuu?" At him.
The young man looked up slowly. "Who am I? Is that really what you want to know... Well, we'll see..." He threw the guitar case into the air, sending it sailing high up and pulling his pistols form their holsters. He fired one up into the air, smashing the padlock on the guitar case. He darted forwards, sending a hail of bullets at the two strange figures. They dodged almost faster than the eye could follow, then charged aggressively, swinging their scythes at him. He chuckled, dropping to his knees and power-sliding between the two, firing up between them so that they had to spring away from him, deflecting his bullets with their scythes. At the end of his slide, the man jumped to his feet and grinned widely, aiming his pistols at them. "Oooh yeah, this party's getting' crazy." As he spoke, the guitar case landed between them, bursting open and sending a huge, wide-bladed sword spinning towards Dante. With almost contemptuous ease, he holstered one of his pistols and grabbed the grip of the weapon, his face bearing a smug look for all of half a second before he realised that the blade had somehow gotten itself stuck in the wall. His assailants seized the moment, charging forward and slamming the blades of their scythes into his chest. They laughed aloud as he sagged, then shut up as he brought the pistol still in his hand to bear, whipping one of them across the face, making it stagger back, releasing the handle of his scythe. The other suddenly found itself with an eye-socket full of gun. It stuttered for a moment, then felt a thunder-crack as a bullet tore it's face apart. It crumbled into sand as he freed his sword, holstering the remaining pistols and pulling the scythes out of his body, dropping them contemptuously to the floor as he approached the one he had pistolwhipped. It looked up at him, the fire in it's eyes replaced by obvious fear. "W-who are you? What are you?"
The man's eyes narrowed as he looked down at the being.
"My name is Dante..."
He lifted his sword above his head and brought it slamming down on the creature, bisecting it neatly before it crumbled into sand like the other. Dante stored the sword back in the guitar case, making a 'tch' sound as he pulled a spare padlock from his pocket and fastening it up. That done, he turned to the man that the two creatures had been attacking and offered him his hand.
"Hey man, you ok?"
The man nodded, ignoring the hand and getting to his feet himself. When he spoke, his Russian accent was obvious, but his English was near-perfect. "I'm fine, it's been a while since I looked death in the face, although I never expected to do it literally, or for the reaper to have a twin."
Dante looked at the piles of sand, which were already beginning to disperse on the wind. He chuckled lightly. "Death? Nah, those were just demons, pretty low-level ones too, barely even a challenge. Coulda beat them in what... three seconds?"
The man made a face at him. "Then why didn't you? Why did you mess around when you clearly have the firepower to be able to take on those things with ease."
Dante tutted to him. "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing stylishly. Anyway, don't know if you heard, but I'm Dante, of the Devil May Cry company." He offered his hand again, which the man took and shook.
"I'm Mikhail, call me Misha, I am collector for Hotel Moscow. And you just saved my life. Hotel Moscow owes you a favour... I owe you a favour. The least I can do for now is get you a drink, come, I know good place not far from here."
Dante clapped his hands together delightedly. "Oooh, awesome, can we pick up a pizza on the way? Do ya think the barkeep will mind me eating at the bar?"
"My friend," Mikhail replied, "If your there with someone from Hotel Moscow, the barkeep will let you share a chair with fine lady devoid of clothes without comment, if he knows what's good for him..."
"I...don't think that'll be necessary, But thanks for the offer."
"By the way friend, is your chest ok? You seemed to have two scythes in it at one point, do you need a doctor."
He looked at Dante's chest, which was mysteriously devoid of blood, even though his coat, and the clothes underneath it had huge, ragged gashes where the scythes went in. Dante shook his head at the man. "Nah, I'm a quick healer, and I've had significantly worse than this before."
"You must tell me about it sometime, over drinks perhaps, my friend. It sounds like you have had some adventures, despite sounding like you work for some kind of goth clothes store."
Dante slapped Mikhail on the back, nearly making the man stumble. "Ha, nice, tell me, what's the pool like at Hotel Moscow."
"You are funny man Dante, I'd be careful with that in Ruanapur. There are many people here with no sense of humour. Might not find you so funny. Now come, let's go have that drink."
As the two men walked away, they were watched from a nearby rooftop by a pale, blonde woman, who grinned as she saw Dante walk away, leaping from rooftop to rooftop to follow him.
There was a gulping sound as Revy tossed back her fourth Bacardi of the evening. Rock sighed as she slammed it down and grinned at him. "What's the matter Rocky-baby, can't keep up?"
"We've had this conversation before Revy, you know I can go toe-to-toe with you in a drinking contest, I just don't feel like it tonight."
She looked at him with a sneer. "Aww, does little Rocky have a stomach ache? You fuckin' pussy."
"I'm not being a pussy Revy, I just have a bad feeling that something's going to happen tonight, something bad."
"Good, might liven up the fuckin' evening a little, give me a chance to get my Cutlasses warm."
"Not tonight Revy, I ain't having you trash my bar again." The barman, Bao, interjected, refilling her glass. "The paint's still drying from the last time I had to rebuild."
"Fuck..." Revy snorted, "Can't come here for a drink without you bringing that up again. Can't'cha cut me a break already Bao, Hotel Moscow always get your ass rebuilt before you lose too much business."
"You know Revy... I think Rock may be right. I'm feeling a little uneasy myself. Try to stay sober enough to aim straight will ya?"
"Pfft," She turned and looked at Dutch, who had just spoken. "I could be fuckin' paralytic and still shoot straighter than most of the fucks in this bar.
As they spoke, a young woman in a blouse, skirt and boots entered the bar, several guns holstered around her waistline and a bayonet-equipped rocket launcher strapped to her back. Bao stared at her fearfully as she took the seat next to Revy, who turned and looked at her.
"Fuck me lady, you expecting world war three to start soon?"
"Never hurts to be prepared, besides, what do you expect to take down with those pea-shooters of yours."
"You shut your fuckin' mouth!" Revy shouted, pulling her piece from it's holster and levelling it at the new arrival's head. As she did so, she found one of the woman's pistols was already in her face. "My Cutlasses kill anyone who stands in my way, ya got that?"
The woman's eyes flicked to the pistol, heterochromatic, one red, the other blue. She shook her head. "Modified Beretta M92F, extend barrels... Nice toys, but toys nonetheless."
Revy hissed with rage at the woman. "You wanna die lady?" She screamed at her, her finger curling around the trigger. It was only Rock's quick intervention that prevented the woman's head from becoming ventilated, and, as it turned out, from Revy having a fair chunk of her abdomen ripped out, as the woman had unholstered a submachine gun with an inexplicable mini-bayonet on it and was pointing it directly at Revy's stomach. Rock intervening meant that Revy's shot hit the ceiling instead of the woman, and the woman shrugged and reholstered her firearm. Just as Revy was about to round on Rock, the door to the bar burst open, and Dante strode in, box of pizza in one hand, slice in the other, and Mikhail in tow. Hey eyed up the scene at the bar and chuckled.
"Hey, Lady, you causing trouble in here already? I feel left out. Who's your friend?"
Rock hastily moved out of the way as Dante imposed himself between the two women, grinning at Revy, who looked far from impressed. Lady frowned and slapped him across the back of the head. He rubbed his head and looked at her. "Ow, what was that for?"
Lady rolled her eyes and sighed. "This is going to be a looooong job..."