Author's notes:
This piece of fiction contains: violence, strong language and sexual themes.
You've been warned, read at your own discretion.
Out-of-character-ness is very much possible to be encountered while reading this story. The characters within this fic are mash-ups of their anime and game (but not the newest game – DmC) selves. Furthermore, the situations are not of the usual setting portrayed in the canon universes, their interactions and inner thoughts deliberately differ because such are not part of the original material – therefore things are compliant to the scenario. So, some may find this to be OOC – if you cannot stand OOC-ness, do not read this.
If you can't stomach any sort of grammatical incorrectness - turn away now. Half-assed complaints about my grammar do not interest me, spare your time and don't write them.
This is not a sequel to Mirror Bound. But if you're still 'ruffled' after it, you can consider this as one. However, I do recommend that you would read Mirror Bound prior reading Repetition Complex, that way you could understand the basis of the characters' interactions, my writing style and characterization – better.
Repetition Complex
Chapter One
Blanketed heavens
There is a law that the residents of the Devil May Cry shop abide and visitors must obey. It is that under no non-apocalyptic situations should the hunters of demonic descent be woken up before twelfth in the afternoon (unless they are not asleep yet because of a 'till early hour party or hunt). And in any case it is better if the partners would not be deprived of their slumber for any reasons.
At a crispy, ten am, freshly rained morning the famous huntress Lady makes her way to the DMC office. It is a great, slightly chill, spring morning with just a bit clouded blue sky. She walks the concrete steps to the infamous building feeling uncharacteristically happy and chatty. Her sleep was restful, breakfast sublime and there is a job, which will bring a hefty financial reward (although with Dante any payment can be halved or nullified with ease, but the female slayer refuses to think about that now).
She opens the unlocked front door, left so for her arrival. Lady is greeted with much warmer air hitting her bare legs, she revels in the sensation. Yet the human huntress does not regret her choice of wearing shorts, although even if slightly on the more biting temperature – the weather is still far too fine to not be enjoyed in such a way.
The main room is empty (and surprisingly not very messy), that fact does not faze her as she confidently strides through it. She heads for the kitchen where their little 'meeting' will surely commence, once both of the hunters will be roused from their sleep by her previously foretold presence. The huntress is sure that they are already fully aware that she has arrived.
She heads towards the kitchen area and sees a huge gaping hole in one of the walls in the corridor but she doesn't stop to inspect it. There's no debris about the torn down wall, the living room is visible through it. Strangely it does not look like a college student's with sloth issues abode, void of empty pizza and take-out boxes, cans and bottles. It's still untidy but in a much more refined way.
Lady takes a seat in the kitchen and soon the groggy demoness enters it as well. She doesn't spare a glance the mortal huntress's way and raises a hand in a greeting notion, which the other woman replies to vocally.
Trish marches in clad in a light, black colored, almost see-through robe. It is loosely tied and shows off the demonette's black lace bra with purple embroidery. She fishes in one of her pockets and removes a pack of cigarettes, putting one into her mouth. The demonic huntress clicks the button on the electric kettle and inquires.
"Coffee?"
After a brief contemplation the visiting woman replies.
"Sure"
She swiftly inspects the obviously sleep deprived deviless and barely manages to stop from loudly exclaiming about a huge upcoming calamity because the seemingly ruffled huntress is not wearing any make-up. Lady realizes that it's probably the first time she's witnessing this miraculous happening of seeing Trish without any 'paint' and dressed almost practically. A pair of over-sized slippers on the demoness's feet (obviously Dante's) catch her vision. That's strange, she never figured the demon huntress to be one for that kind of footwear (or him to be one for that matter). When they're actually not wearing their obviously uncomfortable leather shoes, then she thought that both preferred to be barefoot.
"You look terrible" the human woman remarks.
The demonette takes out a lighter and brings it towards the cigarette, she stops as she hears the remark. She widens her eyes while not looking up and half-nods in agreement. Gesturing with her hands she exclaims.
"...Fuckin' peachy"
The button on the kettle springs back faster than should be possible for the water within to boil. The robe-clad woman fills three readied mugs with water. She pushes one of the cups onto the kitchen table towards the female that occupies it, noticing how she always chooses to sit in that chair, probably her favorite. Lady takes the hot mug and warms her cool fingers on it.
"Hadn't slept well?" honestly, that's an understatement, she thinks, both of the hellish hunters enjoy sleeping-in far too much.
"I'll say" the deviless answers and lights her smoke. "Only with Dante" she says and the smoldering stick dangling between her lips does not hinder her speaking.
"What happened?" the woman inquires with interest while sipping her drink. The usual standard but unfiltered black coffee.
Trish breathes out, takes her cup in her hand and leans back into the counter.
"Yesterday or well today we had actually gotten back at about three am. There weren't any hunts worth our while and we just weren't keen on partying. So anyways-" there is a pause where the demoness inhales and exhales "-we were actually in bed by then. Somewhere 'round four Dante's phone rings. Frankly, I didn't give a damn so I continued drifting somewhere between sleep and coherence"
The demonette continues her talking while taking pauses for a breath on the cig or a sip of her coffee.
"He picks it up and begins talking with the caller, then he gets all eager about something. Then he's all tripping out of the bed with the 'oh golly gee it's Christmas!' vibe in his tone. And he's all flippin' merry about whatever he's talking about, so as he jumps out of the bed he fucking flips the mattress in his great joy. I greet the floor – best wakeup call ever, very effective"
What Trish tells Lady hits her only way later.
"And it was all done accidentally. No, Dante doesn't even notice that I'm on the ground, he continues with his happy-go-lucky chat on the cell. When he finishes talking he turns around and sees the empty bed. Leans down and stares at me confused on why I wear the do-I-have-to-slap-a-bitch? look. And he asks in all seriousness 'what in blazing Hell are you doing on the floor?'. Seriously"
The human huntress even lets a laugh at the deviless's sarcasm toned little story.
"Turns out we got a hunt. Since we hadn't had any decent kills lately Dante was all up for it. And ain't nobody giving a shit that it's four am in the morning. And well, we went for it, wasn't all that bad really. Got back at the shop at about six, so we managed to wrap it all up in less than two hours. It was close by. Just managed to get back to bed... and then you called" Trish shakes her head and takes a gulp of her hot beverage "Fuckin' perfect. Only Dante can accidentally throw someone out of their bed and even ask about it, only Dante... Tsk."
The deviless studies Lady as the mortal woman barely contains her joy and laughter at the poor hunters' expense. She frowns internally, it's her forte to be sinisterly delighted as misfortune strikes other, not hers. It irritates the demoness but she refrains from commenting about it. Her self-esteem does not allow to express such minor dissatisfaction because one way or another in her understanding that's like showing weakness.
The female hunter indulges in small chat and Trish can't help but notice how different from the usual norm such a social-butterfly attitude and approach is. In her mind the nameless human woman is indifferent to anything that does not directly concern her financial losses, expenses and gains. Must be something in the weather, the hellish huntress snorts inwardly. Then again, it's not really without connection, seeing as this visit is not for the reason of friendly banter.
Minutes tick away and the deviless gets restless. Time is of essence if they wish to actually catch their prey. This isn't a case of that sort of huge magnitude (that usually goes without a receival in the form of money, she notes), so it's not like the hunted are in the open. Her tardy partner is taking his sweet-ass time in getting ready and he probably even found some sleep in this short notice. That bratty man, he's the one that is unyielding to forfeit this slay, alas he's late and she even has to be dragged into it. Lady even dares to inquire on where his devil ass is (because obviously Trish is considered to be the babysitter, it's just her disgruntled mind speaking, but for her – it's a serious thing nonetheless). The demonette shrugs feigning indifference, although the third smoke burning represents something else.
Soon an out-of-sorts Dante appears in the living room beyond the torn down wall. Clad in white underwear he lethargically wanders the room trying to locate sufficient clothing. Both women watch him. The human one spares him a 'well, good morning to you too' greeting, to which the half-blood only replies with a grunt. The other, the demonic one, inquires the hunched demon hunter that has already collected some of the haphazardly strewn about clothing.
"Did you pack the guns? Brought Ifrit from out of the basement?" interested in knowing about the task they had agreed upon being done.
"Get it yourself" comes the reply from the sleepy half-devil.
Trish frowns, biting the cigarette, she swiftly removes the over-sized slipper and throws it hurtling towards the half-breed. As the angered deviless sends the footwear flying she shouts out.
"Get it done!"
The slipper crosses the kitchen, the small hall and the holed wall, finally it smacks the half-blood squarely in the back. The object's speed would seem normal to any human observer and so does the impact, but to Lady's honed eyes – she sees the great force inserted into the ragged red slipper. It's meant to sting. She smirks and leans onto her hand amused and entertained. The hit man arches as if sprouting a pair of humongous bat wings. Without any retort or complaint Dante scurries out of the living room as gracefully as a pterodactyl. The huntress enjoys what she believes to be a rare occurrence in the hunting dome. She envisions the two to rarely have any disagreements. Although that is not quite right but truth is always in the eye of the beholder.
By the counter the scantily clad woman huffs in annoyance.
The female guest hand gestures to the missing wall and asks.
"What happened there?"
"Our popularity got the best of us" the demonette says disinterested "A demon broke into and wanted to have a tussle with Dante. All it got was a fly through a wall though. Still gotta repair it, haven't gotten to it yet. If you ask me, then all in short, it's Dante's fault that there's a gaping hole there"
Lady only nods absentmindedly at the answer as she sips her black coffee.
When there's only rotting flesh, bones and ashes left from those that were alive only hours prior, and there's a silent beep of the human woman's phone confirming their pay – the hunting party sits in a meager celebration on a job well done. The paved ground is cold but it doesn't bother anyone. The strange trio sits in a small space cleared of debris, beneath a street light.
The half-devil leans on a huge chunk of rubble feeling fulfilled. The mortal huntress doesn't mind the demolished street as it won't be included in their expense list. And Dante's happy that the area is clear of any inhabitants, whether warned prior to an upcoming natural disaster or left by their own accord for same reasons – he doesn't know and doesn't care. The half-breed's glad that there aren't any connections with the supernatural – signifying a clean execution on his part.
As they sit on the ground in a triangle, only a bonfire is missing to bring to completion the bizarre sight into the 'perfect' campsite view. There are various snacks between the hunters, chips and such, beer, wine, cider and what not. The demonic party members had raided a store in the now abandoned neighborhood – not like the owners will miss a few items. The man smokes a cigarette from a new 'borrowed' block because in the lengthy day both had managed to tear through the last pack they possessed. Not like they don't deserve a couple (more than a couple, obviously) packs for their job well done.
The conversation is light, even if mostly business related. But truly, their business (at least between the residents of Devil May Cry) is always discussed in this manner. The half-blood tries to put out his smoke with a flick of a finger but due to a bad-luck bringing gust of wind – accidentally throws the ember onto his lap. He quickly and in a panicky fashion brushes it off of his form, managing to save his clothing from damage. Neither of the seated, snacking women to his left and right pay any attention.
There are jokes and careless laughter shared between the three.
Dante places his bottle of beer beside him and rises from his stretched out pose on the ground to his feet, not so gracefully (it's more of a relaxed manner than intoxication). He walks away, obviously to take a piss. He travels with difficulty through the huge chunks of rubble that used to be buildings before their awesome display.
Both females sit in a more withdrawn manner than the demon hunter had. Trish takes a pack of smokes from the nearly discarded block. She puts a cigarette in between her pale pink lips. Lady outstretches a hand towards it and the demoness brings the pack closer to her. The human woman removes a cig from it and retracts into her earlier position.
It is strange since the mortal female had not once expressed her disgust at the act of smoking. As the demonette lights up the smoke she thinks that it is probably because of something on the other huntress's mind that makes her indulge into such a despised act. The air about the fatalistic duo turns serious. She tosses her lighter to the woman opposite. After a slight pause she uses it. The first breath the human woman exhales, the deviless hears it more like a resigned sigh, she notices the frown marring the brunette's features as well.
"There's something going on in the Underworld" Lady utters with finality.
The demonic woman nods and replies, her tone does not reflect deep surprise.
"You noticed?"
There is a very unsophisticated snort.
"Of course. It's not really something – and that is what makes it so serious" the mortal elaborates further "It's too quiet. And well, there are significantly less demons crossing the barrier. It's as if all hell is dormant and that exact fact is what makes this serious. It is as if the underworld is trying so desperately to convince us that there's absolutely nothing out of the ordinary going on, which actually just proves that there's something big going on"
The human huntress smokes with a nervous streak in it. And that is the only thing that reveals how truly bothered she is because her voice does not waver.
"The Netherworld has gone dead silent. Ah, what is the saying, when Hell freezes over? Well that fits the current state of it well" the demoness says with disinterest laced in her words.
"Do you know anything about it?" Lady inquires. She doesn't know the whole story but she has the basic outlines, still it is mystifying how the hunter's partner manages to retain such high intel on the netherworld. The woman knows of the demonic origin of the huntress, well more or less. And since all of those hellish ties should have been long since severed it is peculiar how she knows so much of the happenings down there. It is as though the deviless has an all-seeing eye over hell.
Trish takes a drag and exhales, softly tilting her head from side to side, voicing her answer languidly.
"Not exactly. I don't know any details but there's no mistaking that there's a plot already set in motion"
"Isn't that bad?" the other woman hisses and her question-but-not-really-a-question is like an attempt to shake demonette into caring. "Does Dante know?" her tone is still hasty and filled with angered concern for the wellbeing of the world.
The demoness shakes her head as she outstretches her legs and gazes up into the dark sky.
"No, I don't think so" waving her hand dismissively she adds "It does not matter, there's no use in prying now and attempting to stop something that may not even come to fruition. When we'll get the challenge, maybe even directly at our doorstep – then we'll act. Venturing to Hell and back is not wise nor really helpful. Don't let it bother you too much, any grand plan does not come to life so anticlimactically. Rest assured first comes the grandeur and only then the apocalypse."
"You seem to be confidant in that hypothesis" Lady says with something akin to easily distinguishable simmering loathing. Obviously unconvinced with the statement that has all the prideful air of a fact.
"It's a constant, dear" Trish replies with a wicked smirk, completely unaffected by the not hidden doubt in the human woman's words.
The half-blood returns just by the end of that heavy conversation. He takes hit seat on the cold ground and gradually the chatter returns to its previous mini-celebration mood.
The half-breed leans back in his stretched out position and turns his head to the skies above. The darkness is vast and unending and he can't see any celestial bodies within. The heaven is blanketed with heavy clouds. Seemingly fluffy and dense enough to become the perfect bedding. They reflect the city lights and it creates an illusion that accentuates their majestic softness.
They part ways when the day is almost lit anew. All filled with happiness from their little party and drinks, not like there was any reason to be down. Well at least that was the mirage of the cheery mood.
The human woman reaches her abode in record timing (although that is not a rare occurrence in any sense). She always speeds with her bike uncaring for any laws of the road, even if she should also be a part of the mortal reality. This fact had never bothered her in any way.
She enters her large and empty apartment, void of personal touch. The décor in her "home" is nonexistent as she doesn't need any trifle attachments to a place such as this (or any other in her understanding). Blank walls and scarce, average furniture is her choice – even if she has enough dough to allow a high-rise lifestyle.
Wasting no time she strips to her panties. Putting on a white top with straps, she climbs into her bed. The female sinks into the linen sheets and starts drifting off into rest.
Something bothers her usually immovable mind and she jolts out of the bed with a loud exclamation.
"What!?" Lady grimaces surprised and continues the shouted thought "The same bed!?"
That realization is so odd that it is full-blown impossible. It's unacceptable, really how is that possible? The fact continues to annoy her throughout a large portion of the "night", to the point that the huntress has to force herself into uncaring. Not before settling for some simple explanations though, which are that: b) it's just a bed, because a) she was oblivious of something – that theory is denied. End of story. Unbelievable – is the last word her mind utters before Lady finally falls asleep.