A/N: This is my three attempts to reconcile the DmC trailer with any semblance of rationality. The first is purely hysterical, the second takes it as a prequel, the third is probably the more likely (but still not what Capcom is likely going to try to feed us in this weird 'prequel/reboot')
Creationism
She found him in some foreign country, she didn't even know where it was on a map, just knew how to get there, and that it was vaguely in Eastern Europe. Some small countryside town that was in Romania or the Ukraine. Boundaries got weird out there. He was easy enough to subdue and string up- most of his skills were gone, seemed like his memory had been wiped. If he even was Dante.
He'd been fighting demons with the agility of a part-devil, had twin pistols, and enough flair to convince her that whatever happened, it was probably Dante. He was just useless and got himself turned into this emo mess. Lady pulled down her shades and tapped the wireless earpiece, waiting for a moment as the other line started to ring.
"What is it?"
"I found him."
There were a lot of things Trish had expected to see, but a hoodie (was that purple?) and black hair were not on her list. Dante was far too vain to wear anything half as ratted as what this scrawny punk called clothing. He was also too in love with his hair to ever dye it. Something was wrong.
Lady was currently grilling him on information. Questions like: "Who were your parents?" and "What is the name of your shop?" were answered with an "I don't know" often followed by confusion and a question along the lines of "I have a shop?" Mostly, they were met with strings of curses and violent, if not pathetic, attempts to escape.
This was getting them nowhere, but Trish had a theory.
"What is the first thing you remember?"
"Being tied up in a cell by some assholes who claimed to be rehabilitating me, I already told you that."
"Did they tell you anything while you were there? Call you by any name?"
"Just a number."
"Lady, I think our dear friend has been victimized by the schemes of corporate marketing."
"What the fuck?"
"Well, you are a commodity, something that can be sold, but the people who made you realized, somewhat errantly, that the market was saturated with the 'old' you, thus they had to re-imagine your image and history. They remade you, in order to sell even more copies of you, Dante. Unfortunately, to do that, they had to change the original- go back and change everything and make sure you never knew that you were changed. Because you'd probably assassinate them all. It's a legitimate concern."
"And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
"I don't like this emo Dante thing. It doesn't look good for Lady and I."
Lady was catching on to this. Honestly, she had thought maybe he'd been brainwashed into thinking he was human- again- but this was probably more likely. They didn't call him a man-whore for nothing, after all.
"So we're going to fix that."
Two hours later found 'Dante' dressed from head to toe in pink, frills, and far too much lace. They even painted his nails pink. He hadn't actually liked the black, but it was better than pink. He looked like a pretty, pretty princess. Complete with blonde hair and high heels.
"Do you think we can fuck with those scanners?"
"You mean, market this Dante?"
"Yeah. It'd make killer profits. They'd love it."
He was serious when he said he didn't remember anything. He didn't. Just woke up in that facility where they kept asking him 'what is your name?' over and over, like he could answer. The bastards.
They were crazy, but something about these women was familiar. If only he could remember...
"You think maybe they just took Doppelganger and gave him a new wardrobe?"
"He's still too emo."
"Maybe they got their hands on Nero instead."
Nero, now that name also sounded familiar. But why did his brain keep insisting that Nero meant 'kid' and he was to never utter the name Nero, as if his life depended on his inability to call the kid by his proper name...
"We just saw him two months ago."
"That's still two months-"
"I don't think any amount of time would ever have Nero thinking he was Dante."
Heh, if that wasn't the truth- WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM? There was something wrong with him.
"True."
They sat in silence for a minute. Thousands of images flashed through his mind faster than he could grasp them. Names flew at him from the abyss that was his unconscious mind and suddenly he got angry. Really fucking pissed. He was going to strangle those goddamn bitches for ever thinking that this was an acceptable way to deal with his amnesia. Fake-mother and reminder-of-all-things-Vergil were going to die. As soon as he could move.
Damnit, his fucking muscles had atrophied.
"When you money grubbing leeches stop talking about me like I'm not even here, could you get me the fuck down?"
"Aw, Dante, you should be able to get down on your own."
"Not in heels and a dress, Lady."
Trish was a nasty bitch. Once they got him down she insisted on asking, "Are you feeling better?"
As if that deserved an answer.
"Fuck no. I'm wearing pink. Of all colors, you just had to pick pink." He spoke the word like it was poison.
"You wear red, that's one of the colors they use to make pink... Red and white, which means, you must really like pink. You know, red leather, white hair... You must have a pink soul, Dante."
"I'd kill you, but my hit list is rather high at the moment." He sighed, stood still for a minute, then gave up and spoke, "You still got those shitty drug-addict clothes? Because anything is better than this."
"You gonna keep the hair?"
"Sure, why not, I'll even wear black with lightening bolts, and then we'll be like a real family, right Mom?"
Trish was not amused. Dante thought he was hilarious. Lady just pulled out a gun, she'd need it in:
3...
"Why did we bother finding you?"
2...
"Because you missed me."
He got shot in the jaw twice, once in each shoulder, had three bullets pierce his spleen, and one dangerously close to his knee-cap.
Damn it was good to be back.
