DARK BATTLE REQUIEM, chapter one
Enzo Ferino pushed aside the creaking doors of the Devil Never Cry, the archaic wooden doors giving way to a sprawling, nigh ancient interior that made him reel with the feeling of its ancient majesty. A dormitory of times past, one that was marked in terms of decorative design by absolutely nothing more than cobwebs, dust, splinters and a leaky overhead roofing. Lightning struck and thunder collapsed behind Enzo, its terrifying howl pushing him further inward. He yelped like a small puppy being chased by a Siberian tiger, stumbling off-balance further into the demoniacal territory, the unfamiliar, dark grounds within. A shadow beckoned him, a light from outside shone into the room and mocked him, and before he knew it, he was colliding with an ominous red pillar, a statuette of blood that sent him wailing to the floor. At the same time horribly frightened and fascinated, his awe perhaps was not for the best as he looked a little drugged as the hand of Dante, the devil hunter who would take any "special" job, outstretched a hand and pulled him off of the dusky floor, leveling with him eye to eye.
"........Ferino, you been drinking too much again? I swear, isn't this like the thousandth time~~"
"....D-Da....Dante, man.....Man, am I glad to see you...!!!"
"Yeah, but your happiness in seeing me is most likely from happy HOUR. Hey Trish, can you smell Tequila on this clown?"
At that precise moment, a woman dressed from head to toe fully in black emerged from the back room, donning dark sunglasses that shielded her diamond-like eyes. Her blond hair flew with a deft flick of a middle and index finger, with all the effeminity of a female jackal, ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. She walked towards the pair of men with the curvaceousness and serpentine movement of the serpent that tempted Adam and Eve with the apple, with part of the same devilish malevolence. Her lips parted to reveal a smile that could make the most icy, stoic criminal adamant and forthright in his perversion, and when she spoke, it was with almost as much the same attitude as the blood red killer that had greeted the woman, with just enough estrogen to keep her from regressing into a demonic beast.
"......Oh, I don't know. Something like two dozen cocktails, seems like it."
Dante's gloved fist tightened about Enzo's collar.
".....well, maybe I ought to give him two dozen shots then, and maybe add a bit more for ratting me out to those conspiracy theorist info-junkies back then when he was working as an informant. Not that I don't appreciate the publicity, but just where do you get off coming around here anyway, you chump?"
Enzo raised his hands, with an expression ruled by cowardice, and began pleading.
"...No, look man, you gotta listen to me in this one! I got some info on something really big goin' on downtown! This could be the big kahuna!!"
"You know, Enzo, I really hate housework. Mopping, cleaning windows, the whole nine. And if you don't start talking, we're gonna have to do a whole lot of mopping, cleaning, and generally picking the pieces of your sorry ass out of my floorboards....." As Dante spoke these words, he dropped Enzo's body to the floor with a harsh impact, his fingers rearing up to trace the outlines of the handgrips of his custom firearms, Ebony and Ivory, another impact of lightning causing their metallic frames to become rather luminscent in the ever-present flashes.
"Look, lemme tell ya......there's this new cat in town that all the Yakuza are running off at the mouth about named Harry MacDowell. Supposedly this guy just came in from some place called 'Stratoscraper'....wherever that is. His megacorp, the way I hear it, does big on biomechanical research, but supposedly he's got some new interests, if you get me....."
The woman in black removed her glasses, taking a seat at a nearby desk and removing a pair of customized firearms much resembling the ones Dante was carrying, with cursive inscriptions reading "Luce" and "Ombra". Methodically detaching each component, she took out a can of WD-40 and a cloth, cleaning the device in lackadaisical fashion while apathetically stating a warning of, "Keep talking".
"Yeah. The way I hear it, every spot the Yakuza had has already been raided by these 'Kurofuku' bioweapons of his. Thing is, these things are bloodthirsty as all get out. The Yakuza keeps sending hit teams into the Stratoscraper but all they get back are bodybags. No way those petty drug dealing scum can content with something like those demons, you get me? Look, let me show you somethin'...."
Enzo lifted up his azure duster, revealing a massive crimson gash in his side. It had stopped bleeding, but it looked to be a definite physical hindrance. "I barely escaped just one of those with my life. And this MacDowell now has control over something he most likely can't even comprehend. And just ONE of them did this to me. Imagine a whole bunch of the suckers......."
Dante impatiently tapped his foot. "So, what are you proposing?"
Enzo handed him a manilla folder containing varied photographs, of the Kurofuku, of Harry MacDowell, and of a new arena being constructed on the outskirts of town. Dante paused on the last black and white photograph.
"This is the biggest front I've ever seen. No local governing commitee is gonna pay for this unless someone's pulling the strings from behind the scenes."
Trish cut in. "So you think it's this MacDowell?"
Enzo continued. "MacDowell has a thing for toying with people. He's a real sadistic maniac. Supposedly he's organizing a big tournament where anything goes, even guns, weapons, the whole nine, to see if the local thugs, mercenaries, and scum of society can contend with those demons he's summoned up from God knows where."
Dante flicked the photos onto his desk, pointing an unnerving finger at Enzo. "Let's get something straight. I don't completely trust you, and I think you're shit, to say the least. So if you're talking about collaborating on this, you can forget it. I don't work with fuckheads who can't keep their mouths shut~~"
Before Dante could finish his rant, the informant Enzo Ferino was laying in a fetal position on his floor, coughing up blood. A bewildered Trish, mildly out of curiosity, lifted his coat away from his body, and revealed that the sole scar he had shown them was not the only would inflicted upon him; rather, his entire body had seemingly been all but eviscerated. Enzo spoke in a hushed tone, his spirit slipping away from his physical form, as Dante kneeled to hear his sentiment.
"....KoFf- look, man....-KoFf Koff - you gotta take this job for me, man....they did me bad, real bad.....KoFf....and I dunno if people are ready to see what's gonna be goin' on at that tournament of MacDowell's....Koff....."
"......just calm down, don't speak. We'll do it. You just rest, we'll get an ambulance over, and~~"
"...Nah, man....not for me~~KoffHACK~~......I always wanted to die honorably, die like a hunter, like one of youse, ya know? The only reason I sang to the cops was because somebody outta know about you man, somebody outta be givin' you awards and ceremonies and what have you.....Koff.....I mean, if there's a lack of heroic men in hell, and if normal people are just fillin' up the afterlife and dying without reason because of what that asshole's gonna unleash on the world.....then maybe....even....even the Devil may cry.....Kofff....."
With that, Enzo Ferino was dead.
Dante and Trish each boarded their seperate Kawasaki ZZR1100 motorcycles, inserting their firearms into their respective holsters, and generally suiting up.
"...so how long do you think this one will take us?"
"Ah, I don't know......what do you think about an hour and a half?"
"No way, two hours."
"Two hours? What, Trish, you gonna have to visit a relative or something?"
"No. You're going to take me shopping."
".....Uhhm.....................yeah. Sure."
With that, the pair of vehicles left behind trails of light, veering off into the distance, where a grand city awaited their arrival.....
to be continued.....
Enzo Ferino pushed aside the creaking doors of the Devil Never Cry, the archaic wooden doors giving way to a sprawling, nigh ancient interior that made him reel with the feeling of its ancient majesty. A dormitory of times past, one that was marked in terms of decorative design by absolutely nothing more than cobwebs, dust, splinters and a leaky overhead roofing. Lightning struck and thunder collapsed behind Enzo, its terrifying howl pushing him further inward. He yelped like a small puppy being chased by a Siberian tiger, stumbling off-balance further into the demoniacal territory, the unfamiliar, dark grounds within. A shadow beckoned him, a light from outside shone into the room and mocked him, and before he knew it, he was colliding with an ominous red pillar, a statuette of blood that sent him wailing to the floor. At the same time horribly frightened and fascinated, his awe perhaps was not for the best as he looked a little drugged as the hand of Dante, the devil hunter who would take any "special" job, outstretched a hand and pulled him off of the dusky floor, leveling with him eye to eye.
"........Ferino, you been drinking too much again? I swear, isn't this like the thousandth time~~"
"....D-Da....Dante, man.....Man, am I glad to see you...!!!"
"Yeah, but your happiness in seeing me is most likely from happy HOUR. Hey Trish, can you smell Tequila on this clown?"
At that precise moment, a woman dressed from head to toe fully in black emerged from the back room, donning dark sunglasses that shielded her diamond-like eyes. Her blond hair flew with a deft flick of a middle and index finger, with all the effeminity of a female jackal, ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. She walked towards the pair of men with the curvaceousness and serpentine movement of the serpent that tempted Adam and Eve with the apple, with part of the same devilish malevolence. Her lips parted to reveal a smile that could make the most icy, stoic criminal adamant and forthright in his perversion, and when she spoke, it was with almost as much the same attitude as the blood red killer that had greeted the woman, with just enough estrogen to keep her from regressing into a demonic beast.
"......Oh, I don't know. Something like two dozen cocktails, seems like it."
Dante's gloved fist tightened about Enzo's collar.
".....well, maybe I ought to give him two dozen shots then, and maybe add a bit more for ratting me out to those conspiracy theorist info-junkies back then when he was working as an informant. Not that I don't appreciate the publicity, but just where do you get off coming around here anyway, you chump?"
Enzo raised his hands, with an expression ruled by cowardice, and began pleading.
"...No, look man, you gotta listen to me in this one! I got some info on something really big goin' on downtown! This could be the big kahuna!!"
"You know, Enzo, I really hate housework. Mopping, cleaning windows, the whole nine. And if you don't start talking, we're gonna have to do a whole lot of mopping, cleaning, and generally picking the pieces of your sorry ass out of my floorboards....." As Dante spoke these words, he dropped Enzo's body to the floor with a harsh impact, his fingers rearing up to trace the outlines of the handgrips of his custom firearms, Ebony and Ivory, another impact of lightning causing their metallic frames to become rather luminscent in the ever-present flashes.
"Look, lemme tell ya......there's this new cat in town that all the Yakuza are running off at the mouth about named Harry MacDowell. Supposedly this guy just came in from some place called 'Stratoscraper'....wherever that is. His megacorp, the way I hear it, does big on biomechanical research, but supposedly he's got some new interests, if you get me....."
The woman in black removed her glasses, taking a seat at a nearby desk and removing a pair of customized firearms much resembling the ones Dante was carrying, with cursive inscriptions reading "Luce" and "Ombra". Methodically detaching each component, she took out a can of WD-40 and a cloth, cleaning the device in lackadaisical fashion while apathetically stating a warning of, "Keep talking".
"Yeah. The way I hear it, every spot the Yakuza had has already been raided by these 'Kurofuku' bioweapons of his. Thing is, these things are bloodthirsty as all get out. The Yakuza keeps sending hit teams into the Stratoscraper but all they get back are bodybags. No way those petty drug dealing scum can content with something like those demons, you get me? Look, let me show you somethin'...."
Enzo lifted up his azure duster, revealing a massive crimson gash in his side. It had stopped bleeding, but it looked to be a definite physical hindrance. "I barely escaped just one of those with my life. And this MacDowell now has control over something he most likely can't even comprehend. And just ONE of them did this to me. Imagine a whole bunch of the suckers......."
Dante impatiently tapped his foot. "So, what are you proposing?"
Enzo handed him a manilla folder containing varied photographs, of the Kurofuku, of Harry MacDowell, and of a new arena being constructed on the outskirts of town. Dante paused on the last black and white photograph.
"This is the biggest front I've ever seen. No local governing commitee is gonna pay for this unless someone's pulling the strings from behind the scenes."
Trish cut in. "So you think it's this MacDowell?"
Enzo continued. "MacDowell has a thing for toying with people. He's a real sadistic maniac. Supposedly he's organizing a big tournament where anything goes, even guns, weapons, the whole nine, to see if the local thugs, mercenaries, and scum of society can contend with those demons he's summoned up from God knows where."
Dante flicked the photos onto his desk, pointing an unnerving finger at Enzo. "Let's get something straight. I don't completely trust you, and I think you're shit, to say the least. So if you're talking about collaborating on this, you can forget it. I don't work with fuckheads who can't keep their mouths shut~~"
Before Dante could finish his rant, the informant Enzo Ferino was laying in a fetal position on his floor, coughing up blood. A bewildered Trish, mildly out of curiosity, lifted his coat away from his body, and revealed that the sole scar he had shown them was not the only would inflicted upon him; rather, his entire body had seemingly been all but eviscerated. Enzo spoke in a hushed tone, his spirit slipping away from his physical form, as Dante kneeled to hear his sentiment.
"....KoFf- look, man....-KoFf Koff - you gotta take this job for me, man....they did me bad, real bad.....KoFf....and I dunno if people are ready to see what's gonna be goin' on at that tournament of MacDowell's....Koff....."
"......just calm down, don't speak. We'll do it. You just rest, we'll get an ambulance over, and~~"
"...Nah, man....not for me~~KoffHACK~~......I always wanted to die honorably, die like a hunter, like one of youse, ya know? The only reason I sang to the cops was because somebody outta know about you man, somebody outta be givin' you awards and ceremonies and what have you.....Koff.....I mean, if there's a lack of heroic men in hell, and if normal people are just fillin' up the afterlife and dying without reason because of what that asshole's gonna unleash on the world.....then maybe....even....even the Devil may cry.....Kofff....."
With that, Enzo Ferino was dead.
Dante and Trish each boarded their seperate Kawasaki ZZR1100 motorcycles, inserting their firearms into their respective holsters, and generally suiting up.
"...so how long do you think this one will take us?"
"Ah, I don't know......what do you think about an hour and a half?"
"No way, two hours."
"Two hours? What, Trish, you gonna have to visit a relative or something?"
"No. You're going to take me shopping."
".....Uhhm.....................yeah. Sure."
With that, the pair of vehicles left behind trails of light, veering off into the distance, where a grand city awaited their arrival.....
to be continued.....
