They came. They always came. Even in this desolate place, they came for
him. Not a human for miles, yet he always felt them coming. It scared him
sometimes, made him wonder if he was becoming more like them. But he always
beat that thought down before it could surface completely.
He stood in the middle of the abandoned street, his red pleather overcoat ripped and torn, his white hair a total mess. He needed new boots soon, or they might just fall off of him. His sword, Alastor, pulsed in anticipation. That was the only thing not worn down. It was as sharp as ever.
He tensed. They were getting closer with every passing second. He would greet them here; he would run no further. Dante gripped his guns tighter, turning to face the inevitable. His guns needed cleaning too, and soon, but he could stand this one battle.
Dante sighed and focused. Demons. Pure, heartless, mindless demons. He was not like them. He had a mind of his own, he had a...soul? Dante shook his head. No time to think about that. No time...
Abruptly the first demon appeared. It was nothing he had encountered while in the mansion, or in Mundis' domain. It had four slender arms attached to its skinny, wrapped body. Its head was a pole of flesh, with no eyes that Dante could see. On each of the slender arms was a slender chainsaw.
Dante dispatched it with a few strokes of his sword as three more appeared. It always started out like this. A few here, a few there, and then they come forth in a flood. Dante killed the next few while more appeared, severed limbs dissolving into black goo and ash, chainsaws groping for him.
A new demon appeared, barely taller than his knee. It was shaped like a turtle, only its flesh was blue, and the 'shell' was just a ball of muscle, and its head looked nothing like a turtle. Coming from the ball was a large arm, with a pincer. Dante found the quickest way was to just run it through, but most times he had to get rid of the pincer first.
He fought on, through the masses. Black blood stained his already covered overcoat and splashed his face. Green slime covered black blood. Red blood mixed with black and green. Dante fought his endless battle.
He slashed, cutting a chainsaw demon in half with one powerful blow. Suddenly he back flipped into the air, sheathing Alastor and unholstering Ebony and Ivory, his two pistols, in one smooth movement, dodging chainsaws. Dante pumped a demon full of lead before it hit the ground, killing it as he landed. 'One more. Thousands left'.
New menaces appeared. Flying, grotesque things with two sets of wings and two heads. Their claws could rend flesh easily, he found out, and it was best to keep his distance. He turned his attention to them.
He shot three down, still backing away from the slow moving chainsaw and turtle-like demons. The flying demons were always limited in number, and he could fight the others once he dispatched them.
One of the brave ones dive-bombed him, and Dante jumped, pausing in mid-flip to blast it with his pistols, and finished the flip as it fell dead. He had no time to pause, though, as a chainsaw almost chewed his face. He jumped back, lighting up the demon before him, and holstering Ebony and Ivory as it dissolved in a black haze.
'I tire of this'.
Dante crouched, and time stood still. He called upon his demon heritage, his father's side, his awful power. Dante's skin seemed to dissipate like smoke as it was replaced by his demon form.
Dark horns grew from his head, and blue lines traversed his rough, black skin. His demon eyes, blue and electrifying, looked upon the lesser demons with distaste, as he drew his sword Alastor. Spreading his leathery wings, he readied the assault.
The demons seemed to tremble as he flapped his powerful wings once, sending him sailing through the air toward his enemy. One slash took four demons, another three, another five. He tore through their ranks like a hot knife through warm butter, demons flailing in vain to strike him as Dante cut them down.
The unstoppable force that was Dante slashed countless times, rending unworthy flesh, tearing limbs and distorted bodies. He fought ruthlessly and with a vengeance. He fought until his strength ebbed and his awesome power fell away. He fought until every last one of them was scoured from the earth, and he lay on all fours, panting. After it was all finished, only one thought ran through his mind in an endless cycle.
'No. Not like them. Never like them.'
He stood in the middle of the abandoned street, his red pleather overcoat ripped and torn, his white hair a total mess. He needed new boots soon, or they might just fall off of him. His sword, Alastor, pulsed in anticipation. That was the only thing not worn down. It was as sharp as ever.
He tensed. They were getting closer with every passing second. He would greet them here; he would run no further. Dante gripped his guns tighter, turning to face the inevitable. His guns needed cleaning too, and soon, but he could stand this one battle.
Dante sighed and focused. Demons. Pure, heartless, mindless demons. He was not like them. He had a mind of his own, he had a...soul? Dante shook his head. No time to think about that. No time...
Abruptly the first demon appeared. It was nothing he had encountered while in the mansion, or in Mundis' domain. It had four slender arms attached to its skinny, wrapped body. Its head was a pole of flesh, with no eyes that Dante could see. On each of the slender arms was a slender chainsaw.
Dante dispatched it with a few strokes of his sword as three more appeared. It always started out like this. A few here, a few there, and then they come forth in a flood. Dante killed the next few while more appeared, severed limbs dissolving into black goo and ash, chainsaws groping for him.
A new demon appeared, barely taller than his knee. It was shaped like a turtle, only its flesh was blue, and the 'shell' was just a ball of muscle, and its head looked nothing like a turtle. Coming from the ball was a large arm, with a pincer. Dante found the quickest way was to just run it through, but most times he had to get rid of the pincer first.
He fought on, through the masses. Black blood stained his already covered overcoat and splashed his face. Green slime covered black blood. Red blood mixed with black and green. Dante fought his endless battle.
He slashed, cutting a chainsaw demon in half with one powerful blow. Suddenly he back flipped into the air, sheathing Alastor and unholstering Ebony and Ivory, his two pistols, in one smooth movement, dodging chainsaws. Dante pumped a demon full of lead before it hit the ground, killing it as he landed. 'One more. Thousands left'.
New menaces appeared. Flying, grotesque things with two sets of wings and two heads. Their claws could rend flesh easily, he found out, and it was best to keep his distance. He turned his attention to them.
He shot three down, still backing away from the slow moving chainsaw and turtle-like demons. The flying demons were always limited in number, and he could fight the others once he dispatched them.
One of the brave ones dive-bombed him, and Dante jumped, pausing in mid-flip to blast it with his pistols, and finished the flip as it fell dead. He had no time to pause, though, as a chainsaw almost chewed his face. He jumped back, lighting up the demon before him, and holstering Ebony and Ivory as it dissolved in a black haze.
'I tire of this'.
Dante crouched, and time stood still. He called upon his demon heritage, his father's side, his awful power. Dante's skin seemed to dissipate like smoke as it was replaced by his demon form.
Dark horns grew from his head, and blue lines traversed his rough, black skin. His demon eyes, blue and electrifying, looked upon the lesser demons with distaste, as he drew his sword Alastor. Spreading his leathery wings, he readied the assault.
The demons seemed to tremble as he flapped his powerful wings once, sending him sailing through the air toward his enemy. One slash took four demons, another three, another five. He tore through their ranks like a hot knife through warm butter, demons flailing in vain to strike him as Dante cut them down.
The unstoppable force that was Dante slashed countless times, rending unworthy flesh, tearing limbs and distorted bodies. He fought ruthlessly and with a vengeance. He fought until his strength ebbed and his awesome power fell away. He fought until every last one of them was scoured from the earth, and he lay on all fours, panting. After it was all finished, only one thought ran through his mind in an endless cycle.
'No. Not like them. Never like them.'