The Hunter

The Hunter

By: Dionne R.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry is property of Capcom. Tekken is property of Namco.

Chapter 1

Glistening in the moonlight effervescently, silver locks fell over poignant, icy blue eyes. The obscured figure surveyed the night as a zephyr slightly chilled him through his trench coat-style jacket. The tails of the jacket brushed past Ebony and Ivory, snuggly secured at either ends of sturdy hips. He briskly walked.

Instincts screamed loudly in Dante's head, telling him he wasn't alone. He always listened to his instincts. His instincts kept him alive. Quickly pondering whether to unsheathe his blade from behind his back or simply reach for his guns, he decided on the latter—especially after hearing a slight woosh in the sky. Despite the kick produced by the firing capabilities of the weapons, Dante chose them for reliability and effectiveness—with his aim and the guns' power, no foe was safe.

Effortlessly slipping them from their leather holsters, they were soon pointed into the midnight sky. A blanched moon stared back at him mockingly, as clouds moved over it like a veil covering a face. Rain was eminent. Narrowing his eyes, the hunter took a few steps back, never taking his aim off the sky. He couldn't help but blink—yet as he did, he caught sight of what had triggered his vigilant senses: black wings. Telling himself that firing wouldn't be wise at this point, Dante simply lowered his guns slightly and headed inside the multi-floored, billion-dollar Mishima Zaibatsu building. Not yet, he told himself to calm his nerves. It hardly proved effective.

The dimly-lit office was the very definition of meticulous organization. Not a paperclip was out of place, and the mahogany desktop was void of rubbish and mess. A single scroll lay unraveled under the scrutiny of a magnifying glass and a solitary, fluorescent light bulb.

Your esoteric family heirloom won't confuse me for long, Sparda, Heihachi Mishima thought with a smirk as he jotted notes on a stenograph in black ink. Rather than trusting the job of decoding the scroll to his linguists, the aging conglomerate wanted to decipher its secrets for himself. After all, it would save him the job of killing them once they had completed the task. Not that this was a deciding factor in who did the decoding—what the hell difference did a few snot-nosed, Ivy League-educated linguists make anyway?

"Mr. Mishima," a soft voice called from outside the tycoon's personal haven, accompanied by a light rap.

"What?!" he snapped as the door opened, "Didn't I tell you I didn't want to be disturbed?"

Swallowing slightly, the meek secretary spoke up, "It's him, sir."

A devilish grin curved his lips, "Why didn't you say so? Let him in."

She disappeared quicker than she had come, and Dante entered the room a moment later.

He looks just like his father, the elder Mishima thought as he set down the magnifying glass and sprawled his hands over his desk, "You're a hard man to get a hold of, son of Sparda. A man has to go through heaven and hell to find you."

Dante tilted his head and crossed his arms, "Nah. Just hell," shifting his weight onto his right leg.

Heihachi chuckled. Dante didn't bother.

"I have a task for you, demon hunter."

"I assumed as much."

Heihachi grunted at the insolence, but let it go, "I've got a thorn in my side; one that I'd like you to eradicate for me," he proceeded to explain, "I need a demon captured. He goes by the name of Jin. Bring him to me…. Alive."

"Certainly you're not expecting me to do this out of the kindness of my heart," Dante retorted, arching a brow, "Especially a job that involves leaving a demon alive."

That's twice, Heihachi thought, perceiving arrogance from the young man's face. Still, he wouldn't be wearing the look for long, as the conglomerate well knew, "I have something you've been searching for," giving his own amused look.

The demon hunter's face fell. He didn't even bother with pretense; both men knew what the object in question was. How could he have known…?

"As a matter of fact…" Heihachi trailed off, moving the magnifying glass from its spot and rolling up the scroll to show Dante the family crest.

An eternity of silence filled the time span of sixty seconds.

"What's to say I won't kill you and take it?" the young one asked, his eyes flashing dangerously as he slowly set his finger on the guns he'd set back in their holsters merely moments before.

"What's to say that once you do, you'll make it out of this building alive?" sneered Heihachi, giving his own dangerous look, "Or more importantly, that the scroll will make it out?"

Smart bastard, Dante thought, though his expression didn't betray his cool, "Very well, old man," pushing Heihachi's buttons, "Done."

Scorn couldn't help but glisten in the aging eyes as the demon hunter turned on his heels and left, "Ostentatious little shit."

Pellets of rain crashed on pavement as bolts of lightning lit up the sky to guide their path. Gloomy clouds stretched across the vast expanse. Even the cathedral had an ominous presence about it—a place which normally served as refuge to lost souls. The red, stained-glass panes resembled bloody water. The angels resembled gargoyles. Still, some had no other place to turn.

Opening slowly because of their huge size, the portals projected the gloom of the night into the warmth of the church. Accompanied by the gloom was the thud of black boots on the marble ground. The doors closed once more, protecting the young woman from the outer elements. She shook out her small umbrella, and closed it neatly; slipping it in the black messenger back hanging on her left shoulder. Dressed in black, hip-hugging jeans and a tight, corset-style halter top, she hardly belonged in a church. As a measure of decency—but more for protection from the weather—she also decked a leather motocross jacket.

Not caring who was offended by her apparel—though there weren't many people in a church at midnight, to offend—she walked down the isle to the altar where a few candles were already lit. Sighing as her shoulder-length, black and copper locks fell in her face, the young woman picked up one of the other candles to light her own. I miss you, she thought, closing her eyes. Her moment was short lived. Catching the sound of faint footsteps behind her, she slowly and cautiously slipped a manicured hand behind her back. As the footsteps approached closer, she spun around to aim a gun at her prospective attacker and came face to face with the priest.

"Even in the house of God, Dionne? What would your mother say?"

The young woman made the sign of the cross, "Sorry, father. Old habits die hard. Besides," slipping the gun back to its place at the small of her back, "She hasn't had many complaints these past ten years," allowing a melancholy smile to curve her luscious lips.

"Indeed. Being dead does complicate one's ability to complain," he joked before allowing a moment to pass. He sighed, knowing the reason she was there, "Has it been a year already?"

The smile faded as the young woman hung her head slightly. Swallowing the sobs which were rising from her chest, she remained taciturn. Without another word, she left, feeling the priest's sad gaze upon her.

"Will you stop pacing and just look at me?"

Jin Kazama stopped in his tracks and blinked, snapping himself from the cage of his mind. It was hard for him to focus on anything nowadays. The anticipation of being able to acquire his revenge was beginning to consume him. This was evident in his unusually stony expression—especially to his significant other.

Opening the doors and returning to the darkness of dusk, she put out a palm to feel the sky for the driving rain. Fortunately for her, it had eased up during the course of her short visit.

"Huh?" sounding dazed. His jet-black bangs hung over his piercing, ebony eyes. In the isolated and dusty training room of the gym, his bright white and black gi practically illuminated his slim body. Even his physical appearance was being affected by his mental obsession.

Dionne rolled her eyes and grabbed his jaw in her hands, "Please don't do this."

Jin tore free from her grip and turned his back to her, "If I don't kill him, he's going to come after me…"

A slight breeze blew, chilling her to the bone. She rubbed her biceps as she felt another chill down her spine.

"He doesn't know where to find you!"

"And you think that'll stop him?!" Jin snapped, turning to face her again. Moving closer to her, he clenched a wrapped knuckle, "That bastard's never going to stop. He even dug up my father's fucking corpse!"

Feeling eyes on her, she directed her gaze over her shoulder without turning her head too much. A silhouette flooded her peripheral vision.

"Promise me you'll come back," she uttered almost inaudibly as her foundation crumbled. She threw her arms around her tormented lover.

Taking a moment to register the gentle embrace, Jin sighed and finally wrapped his arms around her waist. He couldn't promise. He didn't.

Shaking her perceived optimism, she sighed. He's gone. Stop fooling yourself. She simply flounced down the steps and began her journey home.

09h00

Sunlight streamed in through the horizontal blinds. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, Dante groaned. Last night had been hellish. I knew I should have killed the bastard…then I could have killed the demon just for the hell of it.

Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed his torso up first with a sigh and then got himself out of bed. He headed to the bathroom as he noncommittally scratched at his bare chest. Not bothering to glance at his reflection in the mirror above his sink, he simply ducked his head while turning on the water to wash his face.

Where the hell did he get the scroll from?

Looking up into his own steal-hued eyes, Dante tried to push these thoughts aside. It was too early for such tangents. There was hunting to be done.

Ringgg!!

He was glad for the interruption from his thoughts. Still, he didn't answer the phone. Instead, he slipped off his boxers, and opened the door to his shower. Stepping inside, he turned the water on scalding hot before shutting the door. By the last ring, the glass had started fogging.

Allowing the water to stream down his face and torso, Dante moved his hands over his eyes. I have my own demons to fight, thinking of his family who no longer existed.

Vergil was as good as dead, sealed in hell by Dante's own hands.

His father was dead—a good man, whose sacrafice was seeming to amount to nothing.

His mother.

He remembered how powerless he felt; when he lost both his parents at once. He hadn't understood why before, but he did now. Vergil was no comfort, so Dante was left empty—inconsolable. A sense of completeness always filled his void whenever he killed another demon.

Of course, his employer didn't know this. None of his former employers ever had. After all, who gave a shit why he did what he did? All they knew was that he was the best at it.

Setting his hands on the walls as the water streamed down his back, Dante shook his shaggy locks.

Heihachi grunted impatiently as the elevator took its time getting to the 20th floor. His private elevator was broken, making it necessary for him to use a public elevator—one which stopped on all floors rather than just his. This was especially annoying since he had calls to make, people to plague and lackeys to manipulate.

After about twenty minutes, he was finally on his floor. Still, it was twenty minutes longer than he wanted to wait. Stepping off the elevator, he strutted to his office. The petite and quiet secretary sat at a lonely desk ten feet away from Heihachi's door.

"Good morning, sir," she attempted with a nervous smile.

"Oh shut up you obsequious little sycophant."

Resisting the urge to cry, the young woman simply broadened her fake smile and passed Heihachi a list, "The list of bounty hunters you wanted."

Snatching the list, he began to skim it as he left her and slammed his office door. Stopping on the name he wanted, he couldn't help but smile. He walked over to his desk, and pushed a button on his phone.

"Delila, contact the fifth person on the list. Arrange a two o'clock," he barked.

"Done, sir."

"It's been a long time, DeLavega," Heihachi muttered as he took a seat and pulled an air-tight cylindrical container from his locked drawer. Opening it, he feasted his eyes once more on Sparda's scroll. He smiled and picked up his magnifying glass to glance over the stolen manuscript.

He skimmed over the cryptic symbols. Remembering the look on Dante's face when he saw his family heirloom, Heihachi couldn't help but laugh for a moment. He would take lots of pleasure in killing the halfling. After all, if it was one thing the Mishima elder hated, it was hypocrisy. What the hell was this half-demon doing hunting his own? Nevertheless, soon; soon Dante would meet his end. Perhaps Heihachi would use the scroll's ancient incantations. Now that would be ironic. Calming down the excitement and anticipation in his stomach, the old warrior sighed, Soon, he assured himself.

14h00

Dionne swallowed and put on her game face. Walking into this building again would take every ounce of strength and restraint she had. She got through the main doors and past the security check into the lobby without incident. So far, so good—luckily the idiots hadn't gotten any better at detecting weapons on pretty girls.

"Miss?"

Noticing the lobby guard calling her to sign in, and interrogate her, she simply walked over and pulled a pen from her black messenger back.

"DeLavega," she said before the man could ask anything, "And Mr. Mishima's expecting me."

Trying to hide a pout, the guard pointed at the elevator. He hated being dismissed as being unimportant—something frequently done by those of the fairer sex.

Dionne walked to the elevator and heaved a great sigh. Getting on, she pushed the button for the 20th floor. Leaning against the back of the elevator, she shivered slightly as the cold steel in the small of her back slipped a little lower. Fiddling with the buttons on her tight, plunging polo top, she hardly even heard when the elevator alerted her as to her destination.

Getting off and walking towards the only door on the floor, she adjusted her low-rise jeans on her hips.

"Is Mr. Mishima expecting you?" the secretary asked with a sweet smile.

Dionne nodded.

"DeLavega?" she asked, seeming highly surprised.

Here we go, the bronzed vixen thought, shifting her weight to her right leg. Everyone had the hardest time believing a woman could be a bounty hunter. Most bounty hunters were women nowadays. Were these people still in the dark ages? Dionne rolled her eyes and glanced at her manicure while the secretary informed Heihachi of her arrival.

"He's ready for you," the small-voiced woman spoke.

"Has it really been a year?" Heihachi broke the ice as he stared into the young woman's murderous eyes.

"Fuck you. I don't work for you anymore," folding her arms, taking the defense.

"Ah…then what are you doing here?"

"You still owe me for my last job," she pointed out.

He slid a check across his desk, "With interest."

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, "What's with the sudden generosity?"

He smirked a bit, "I have another job for you."

"Forget it," as she walked to the desk and picked up the check. Then, she immediately turned around and started for the door.

Shrugging, "I thought you wanted to find Jin."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face her former employer, egging him on.

"Evidence has been found to suggest…"

"Don't give me that CSI bullshit," she spat venemously.

"Don't tread on my good graces, Ms. DeLavega. You want to find Jin, and I do as well. You have the means and motivation to do so. So…what do you say?"

Dionne licked her lips slowly, "I'd sooner trust a snake not to bite me in the ass," she hissed, getting ready to storm out of the office.

Heihachi folded his hands and leaned back in his rolling chair, a dark look passing over his face, "If you don't help him, he'll be killed."

The bounty hunter stopped dead in her tracks, "Bullshit," she snapped automatically. "How do you kill someone that's already dead?"

"You never were good at listening were you? My grandson is still alive," Heihachi smirked snidely, "or did you miss that too?" knowing just how hard his words hit the girl.

"What difference would it make to you anyway?" sneering, though he could only see her back and shoulders tensing. She wouldn't turn to face him.

He loosened his hands and shrugged as innocently as he could fake, "I'm getting old. I need an heir for my empire. Otherwise, some asshole CEO will get everything."

"Some other asshole CEO," she muttered, shaking her head, "Either way, that's your problem. You should have considered that before you put the bullet in his head."

Dionne knew her voice cracked from the tears she was fighting harder and harder to keep from erupting from her eyes like passionate magma. Still, she kept walking, and left the old man to brood.

14h32

"Kazama disappears after Tekken," Dante muttered as his intense eyes skimmed over the computer screen. The more he read up on his bounty, the less he was liking what he'd gotten into. He rubbed his jaw noncomitally, feeling a bit of a five o'clock shadow.

Interrupting his thoughts with a shrill ring, the phone demanded his attention frantically. As he finished the last few lines of the article, he half-heartedly answered.

"Yeah," he muttered, still searching for information.

"I'm looking for Dante," a female voice replied on the line.

"Speaking."

"I need your help," she spoke, sounding quite hesitant on the line.

"I assumed as such," he retorted somewhat sarcastically.

"I want you to help me find a demon named Jin," she said, apparently not catching—or not commenting on—the unprovoked sarcasm.

Dante's interest was piqued, but he simply ignored the tingling feeling of intrigue, "I can't help you, miss. I can't find the same demon for two clients."

"Two?" clearly sounding surprised.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, deiciding not to even hear her out. To hear her out would mean digging himself further into what was turning out to be a twisted game.

Before he could say more, the line went dead in his ear.