Cambion in medieval legends is the offspring of demon and human.

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING BUT THE OC AND PLOT!

Edited. 051414.

Cambion.

"this thing of darkness I acknowledge mine"

It's another glorious day at Limbo City.

Of course when I say that, I'm being ironic.

For there is never a day that Limbo City is anywhere near glorious. For one, who in their right mind would name this place after some circle in hell? I'm not surprised with all the damnation crawling up behind the scenes of this modern day world. But how in the fuck do you consider all those as glorious to this heap of a city? But this is no ordinary city I tells ya, where behind everything you see has a deep dark secret to it. However, nobody knows all these dirty secrets; some things just have their way of seeming all too normal.

It's close to twilight as I make my way through the city, trying my very best to avoid unwanted attention and accidental eye contact with anyone. I sure as hell hate making contact with anyone. Call me the anti-social type, but having attention just annoys me. That's a fact.

My grey eyes trail boredly down at the concrete ground, my attention focused solely on my trek home while my ears are going deaf with my music. I adjust the hood above my head in attempt to block out the drooping sun, it was late noon and I had to move fast. The weight on my right shoulder was beginning to wear me down, plus, the pizzas were starting to get cold.

I make a turn to the next curb when, even with my blaring headphones, I was able to make out faint snickers and footsteps that have caught my attention. I was smart enough to pretend like I haven't noticed them following me the whole trip. I don't stop walking though.

But as I make another turn into an empty space, that's when these idiots begin to surround me. Even when my music was loud enough, I'm pretty sure they're snickering under their breathes as they eye me like some fresh meat.

Bastards.

I sigh, tapping impatiently against the pizza boxes. One of them was talking, I'm sure of that. But I don't hear them as the bass drops through my headphones, I act like I'm listening when I'm not.

Deciding against my best interest to avoid attention, I pull down my headphones and rest my hand on my hip.

"Listen fellas, can we just…not do this today? 'cause, I got a delivery to make." I lift the boxes of pizza to make a point.

But of course, they just laughed it off and approach me, using the ever cliché four-against-one kind of shit. Thinking they could get away with it, being that I'm a girl and all.

Big mistake there buddy.

As one guy behind me grabs my shoulder, I roughly jerk off his hand and toss the pizza at a good feet above me. Left momentarily distracted, I spin on my heel and give a good roundhouse kick to his face. The action causes my hood to drop, revealing my face and my short black hair to flail in the air. They look at me with stunned expressions; I smirk smugly as I take a fighting stance. Cracking my knuckles, I tackled the nearest guy making sure that his shoulder was dislocated before throwing him off to the other guy.

The last guy was dumb enough to sneak up behind me; I managed to dodge his fist in time. He had this stupid look of pure confidence that he could land a hit on me, he never did. I was dodging all his attacks, dodged and dodged until I found an opening; I took his fist in my hand, smirking at him before I twisted it and delivered a punch of my own to his gut. A new guy swerved to kick me, lucky enough; I dodged again in time so he ended up kicking his comrade instead.

Stepping between them in split second, the three of us began to exchange fists with me clearly winning. All their viscous blows and attacks barely landed on me, but landed towards the other, all while my attacks and blows hit them squarely in the gut, face and wherever.

To end this nautical nonsense, I spun myself to the ground before leaping up with my legs outstretched to the side, kicking them both in the face with the heel of boot. I swore I heard their nose crunching from the impact.

Oh well, their loss not mine.

Landing on my feet, I dusted away dust from my clothes and threw my right arm in the air, opening my palm in time for the pizza boxes to land. Eyeing the four unconscious and slightly bloodied bodies, my eyes turned heavenward before I returned to my trek home once again. I put my headphones back on and pull up my hood.

Halfway through my walk, I noticed something different with the load in hand. Chewing my lower lip, I try contemplating with myself to let it go but my curiosity got to me. Lifting the stack of pizzas, I note that I was one box short, and the string had loosened up a bit and had been retied with what seemed to be a sad excuse for a knot.

I cursed under my breathe; some asshole just stole a box of pizza from me.

I finally arrived at my destination, the Saint Assiel Church at the far west side corner from the city. It's pretty beat down, having gone through a lot as the years gone by, but the place's structure sure was sturdy. I made a tiny bow at the main entrance and turned to the side, kicking the rusty gate with my boot and then closing it shut behind me.

The lot of the parish church sure was huge; it was about the size of a commercial building. But then again, so are most churches maybe. Situated behind the church was a tiny garden, a small pond full of fishes, a growing apple tree, benches, a little playground and figures of angels. I am greeted by nuns on the way; I try to smile back politely.

Finally, I reach the abbey building adjacent to the church; this is where the priest and nuns live, but also, its one big home. I made a point to take silent steps as I waltz my way through the hallways, easily finding my rendezvous.

Pushing the doors with my shoulder, I yelled of my arrival and made a point to kill my music for a while. Surely enough, rapid footsteps began to echo the whole hall as seven little orphans walk up towards me.

"Gemma!" they greet me with wide smiles on each of their faces.

I wriggle their hands away and leave them under the nuns' care and head towards the dining room to help set the table. Two nuns more appear from the kitchen bringing with them plates, forks, knives, glasses and a pitcher of orange juice. They greet me politely, too politely, I merely grunted in return.

The name's Gemma by the way, Gemma Crawford. I'm twenty years old, standing five foot six, weighing around a hundred and twelve pounds, I have a pallor skin tone, my hair's short and messy and is black as coal save for a tell-tale streak of white behind my head, a pair of grey irises and a mouth that cusses a lot. My attire consists of a sleeveless white peasant top with a black tank underneath, tan leather coat, a flowing red scarf, grey shorts, fingerless gloves and a pair of black ankle length combat boots. Oh, and I've got ear piercings on both ears too, two helixes on my upper cartilage on my left and two cartilages on my right.

I'm in one of the few orphanages in the city, situated someplace in the city. I don't really live here, but this place is all I can turn to. 'sides, this is the only part of the city I can tolerate. It's the only place I render as safe, evil free.

After we say our grace, we start digging in.

Just as I help myself to a glass of juice, a stern old voice from behind me calls. "Gemma…" and judging from the tone of his voice, it does not sound good.

Sighing, I take a quick sip and turn to him. An old priest with sunken cheeks and scrawny figure looks at me, his hands behind his back as he gazes at me. Those steely eyes of his remind me of a lion.

I take a quick sip from my glass and greet him, as politely as I could. "Father."

"We need to talk." He says sternly, his face neutral.

The children groan at this, I smile at them apologetically. "Sorry kiddos," And with that, I stand and left them, trailing behind father as we walk towards his office.

"Remind me to tell you to dress appropriately next time." Father says halfway into his office. I snicker, showing no way of hiding it in.

Once we got there, I take a seat across from him and rest my chin on my palm. The look on Father's face has a clear message that it has something to do with me. I can't blame him for that. Lacing his fingers on his desk, he heaves a heavy sigh.

"Gemma-"

"Is it about those rumours?" I cut him off. He doesn't look surprised, instead, his face hardens. I take his silence as a yes.

I sigh exasperatedly. "It's alright Father. I know my place; I just came for the kids."

A fond smile crosses his face. "As usual…but Gemma-"

"Father, you don't have to worry…I can take care of myself." I say, taking a frame from his desk and stare. It's a picture of him with a few other children years ago, before everything was a complete shit hole of disaster. They look so happy. "'sides, it's not that hard by the minute. Same old, same old with these unannounced mishaps I had to go through." I return the picture frame, looking beyond the aging priest. "Not that it's never easy to deal with…"

"It never was…" he agrees, shutting his eyes for a quick second. He looks up at me with soft kind eyes, the same ones I knew when I was a kid. "Daughter to the demon king…"

My face sours, my hands clench that I hear the fabric of my gloves constricting.

"Whoever started those must've been a professional liar. That asshole-"

"Language Gemma," he scolds me. "we're in a holy place."

I scoff. "Are we Father?" I spat, my voice rising. "When we're living in a city thwarted by demons in disguise? Living with hundreds of ignorant people? I mean, how can we call this place holy anymore?! Demons are littering everywhere, hording out humanity and all we can do is sit by and let it pass?"

Father falls dead silent. "Gemma, let's not talk about that again…"

Again, I scoff but in a lighter tone. "Father, you were the one that brought that up. I'm just curious about 'The Order', but I never forced it outta ya." He turns to smile; I sense that he had rolled his eyes on me.

The sly old man.

"So…do you have my babies?" I ask sweetly with my arms crossed.

Father's face is priceless when I say that, he grimaces and sighs heavily while he produces a briefcase from beneath his desk. The air around us changes, an eerie atmosphere dwelling on my five senses. I smile smugly as he unlocks the case, revealing my shining glories; pair of wheel lock revolvers. Picking up one gun, I smooth it out while feeling the engraved designs on the hammer. I pick the other one and feel myself calming at the feel of my babies in my hands; I sigh contently, and then gently press my lips to the handle of each of my guns before putting them on my holster.

"Mommy misses you too," I coo.

Once I finish doing my business, everything turns back to normal; I made a point to leave knowing that my business here was done.

"Won't you stay for dinner?" he asks as he stands from his seat.

"Nah, lost my appetite." …Considering that one asshole sneakily stole my pizza - a Hawaiian special with no olives.

"Please, I insist- no, we insist. The children I mean."

I smile. "As much as I'd love to, I can't. Don't want to get too involved with them. And besides, I gotta make my rounds…"

Father sighs in defeat, but says nothing as I take my stand to leave.

"Oh, and Gemma?" He calls just as I reached for the door knob. "Please stop getting them pizza, it's not healthy."

At that, I crack into a smile and look at him over my shoulder. "Father, we live in America. Majority of the food here aren't healthy. And besides, the kids love it. Don't deny it that you love it too."

He laughs. "True, true…"

With that as finality, I waved at him and left.

So…there's a certain rumor going around of me being the unwanted daughter to the demon king which is actually, somewhat…true.

Yeah, Mundus is my father.

I'm part human and part demon.

Once upon a time, dear old daddy-o, the demon king, came to the human world. He raped my mother then fled back to his shithole. So with that, I was born, it became a conspiracy of some sort and shit and blah, blah, blah.

Tragic, isn't it?

Everyone's after my head 'cause my daddy just happened to be a Demon King, I mean, how fucking cliché is that?

Let me tell you this though, daddy's a real fucking hypocrite for killing an angel and torturing his lieutenant for having a little affair. I know that all he did was rape my mom, but to me, that's pretty hypocrite of dear old daddy.

The only good thing that came out of the whole ordeal was the mere fact that daddy-o wants nothing to do with me, 'cause, I sure don't want to as well. What a mutual understanding. If only his pricks and these damn humans get the message.

Oh, and there's ridiculously second rumour that goes that I'm the daughter to a war lord, and that I'm next in line to his reign of evil, which is, obviously, a hundred per cent false. It's a dumb conspiracy of a rumour really, only for me to be twice the target than I already am.

My mom was a nice woman; she was a nun and all. She raised me well despite me being a hybrid to human and demon. She only saw me as I am, her child. Her name was Clara. We lived in the abbey with Father and a few other nuns. Because I was part demon, I had a streak of white hair on the left side of my hair. Kids often asked me why I had that or were making fun of me for it. Also, I had the ability to see a demon straight through their guise. It scared the crap out of me the first time, I remembered crying for hours. People started to think that I was going crazy. And because of those experiences, I was home schooled. I never blamed them for that. It was the consequence of being a half-and-half child after all. As I grew up, I was often reprimanded for being a troubled child who had a 'dirty mouth'. It was a wonder how I even knew those words considering that I lived in a holy place, but I had my ways of knowing. I was a good kid nonetheless; I had an awesome family living in simplicity.

Mom had a younger brother named Curtis of which was a police officer who didn't take shit from nobody. Curtis took me in after Mom died in a bloody riot, I was only 7. I then inherited his surname 'Crawford' since he was like a dad to me; at an early age, he was the one who taught me at how to use a gun and a knife, to fight, to defend myself and to never take shit from anybody. He was awesome, and I looked up to him.

Long story cut short, Curtis died sometime a few days before I turned 16. Then Father took me back in, the same time he started taking in lost orphans and started the whole orphanage thingy.

Since then, I've started to experiment with my half-demon abilities. Whenever I had time or right under people's noses, I've learned things on my own, and before I knew it, I had been on my own hunting demons for the sake of making a living for myself and the abbey. I managed to use my demon eye to my advantage, knowing whom should I avoid and whom I should trust. It must've been natural instinct when I had my first kill; a kitchen cleaver was all I had in my hand. That must've spawned me to become a mercenary of some sort.

Business was going good, until the day someone broke out of my true identity and the filthy rumour started.

I had to run away from the abbey, had to cut my losses just to save everyone there.

I soon became the fresh meat everyone was after.

I was the bride every demon sought out for.

How very Mary Sue my life has become.

But still, life must go on and I have to face reality. So there, daddy-o, I have you to thank for this shithole of a life.

I've been living incognito ever since, never showing myself out in public. During the day, I am on my ass sleeping until noon. By noon, I find things to pass the time. And by nightfall, I hunt for money. Somewhat, I've become nocturnal. But this cycle has kept me safe and unnoticed for years.

Sure there were times when I'd voluntarily head out to buy the kids food and stuff, but I was always careful with my actions. My guises were always helpful. But then, there were some loose assholes that saw through me.

And as a demon hunter, well, let's just say that I was lucky enough to find a good contractor who pays me good. Demon hunting isn't a common job nowadays, and finding a good contractor who would accommodate you was difficult as well. But, it's the best job for me, the pay is awesome. But we'll get to that part later. I gotta jump in to Limbo first.

Haha, jump in, that sounds funny.

Going in to Limbo's funny actually, you feel like you're high and everything's just puke to you. Everything's distorted and real fucked up. The demons all look like shit, and it feels like being in a video game. The only difference; you die here, you die for real. There is no second life, no power up. Experience in the field is everything. Skills are important. And most of all, know your enemy.

I adjusted the scarf around my neck as a gust of wind harshly blew by; I noticed that there was a change in the air.

To confirm my thoughts, I feel my sentient instinct ringing at its highest peak and the state of my mind frenzies a little as Limbo turns into sight. And then, a Larger Rage appears before me. It snarls at the sight of me, snapping its teeth viciously as it approaches.

I don't move from my spot, merely watching the rat approach me with a feral look in its eyes. Red eyes glinted with pure blood thirst. Just as I was about to reach for my gun, another growl roars. I managed to dodge its attack in time, leaving me flying in the air as I stare at a new enemy – a Death Knight.

"Well, this'll be a lot easier than I thought."

And without hesitation, I flip backwards and kick myself off a building, sending me towards them at full speed. As I near their ugly faces, I readily grab my guns and move into action.

Blaring car horns is what I wake up to the next day, I groggily bring myself up and realized that I've slept for about seven hours. That was not enough for a growing woman. Rubbing my eyes, I gaze out my window towards the dreadful view of morning Bellevue. As usual, it's shitty.

Groaning, I force myself out of my bed and head towards my kitchen dressed in nothing but an old fitting tee and my underwear. I live in a dump of an apartment located at the south side of the city, just by Bellevue pier. The plasterboard clearly was left half-finished; a part of it is damaged from my hallway leaving pieces on the floor. Then there's the problem with my appliances, no biggie since I snog on take-out or a fruit. Luckily, the fridge is man enough to stay so all my juices can be cooled. Taking a carton of milk, I head towards the living room and pick up the remote to turn on the television.

Truthfully speaking, I never really liked watching television since I was never accustomed to it as a child, but the yammering of the news anchor men serves as a nice background noise. City noises were such a pain in the ass, especially when you wake up to it.

I toss out the already empty carton and start to stretch a little, doing a little warm-up to awaken my sleeping muscles. The weatherman's forecast runs through as I hear my bones crack up, my joints pop and my blood pumping. And just as Miss prim-and-gorgeous heads on with the latest celebrity news, I was off for a shower and when I came back, BoB Barbas was on. I glared my eyes at him from the television screen.

Turning off the television to his creepy face, I quickly changed into my usual, took out the trash, paid my rent by the counter before making a mental note to myself that I'll be needing some milk and apples. The sun's rays blare down on me as I exit my apartment building; I pull my hood up and begin to walk downtown. As usual, everything I see in this crap of a city is corruption, nothing but corruption.

Keeping my head low, I pretend to be the slightest of ignorant of the wanted posters hanged up on the walls with my face on. Though the picture they used was when I was a teen, I decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. Things were always unexpected in this city.

"Gemma."

A voice calls, from the sound of it, it's a female. An all too familiar voice, from an all too familiar female. I don't bother to look up knowing that she'll tag along behind me.

"Leave me alone."

I angrily brush off. It's a miracle how she kept up with me.

"Vergil's offer still stands."

"And I thought I turned down that offer."

"So you've considered it?" she asks, I hear the expectancy in her voice.

"Not in a million years."

Her name's Kat by the way, she's a psychic. She's part of 'The Order' of which Father was once a part of. She's about a year younger than me and is terribly stubborn. Ever since this Vergil person sent her, she won't leave me alone. It's a wonder how she even knows where I am to begin with.

"He says it's serious."

"That's what they all say sweetie."

"Gemma, we could use your help."

"Sorry, not interested."

"But-"

"Leave me alone Kat." I let out angrily, setting her off. Not that I don't like her or anything, but sometimes, whenever she's around, I can't help but feel sorry for her. She's an awesome person.

Kat looks up at me stunned, I inwardly celebrate and kept myself walking. But her next words are a surprise.

"Vergil wants to meet."

I stop walking.

"He knows a way to help you out. Just meet him, hear him out, and then he'll stop."

Wordlessly, I turn to her. Her words ring in my head temptingly.

"That's all he wants."

Letting out a heavy sigh, I adjust my hood and actually digest the offer. How the actual fuck did that bastard know of my dilemma? Then again, this could be a trick. I have no idea what 'The Order' is or how they work, despite Father's involvement, I'm not risking anything.

"Please?"

"As tempting as it sounds," I began, catching Kat's full attention. "why doesn't Vergil tell me these offers himself? Why send a dog to do his master's labour?"

Kat actually flushes at my words. I smirk smugly and turn around, leaving her standing.

Turning back on track, my legs begin to take me somewhere. "Send the guy my regards." I wave off.

Soon enough, a sea of people walked by, blanketing me in.

I must have been walking forever, because when I look up, it's dusk. I found myself standing outside the local pizza shop. Huh, of all places.

The smell of pizza is tempting though, my stomach growls in agreement. I realized that I haven't had a proper meal since yesterday, and I was terribly missing the taste of melted cheese and pineapples.

So I enter the place without second thought, ordering my usual and a whole bottle of water. As the clerk politely tells me that my pizza will be done in 45 minutes, I take a moment to sit myself on the stool to relapse and rest my legs. My muscles feel like steel, probably from all that walking. Seeing that the place was near deserted, I drop my hood, feeling the cool air from my scalp. I ruffle my hair bit. For a while, I consider myself safe.

Resting my cheek on my palm, I opted close my eyes for a minute, seeing that I've got nothing to do since I left my Walkman. I mentally berate at myself for forgetting to purchase milk and some fruits. And surely enough I sense a well-known presence before he even makes himself known. I pretend to be asleep, acting oblivious to his presence beside me.

He says something to the clerk that I don't catch, seconds later, the clerk leaves. He shifts, turning to me.

"Still ignoring me I see…"

Silence is all I gave him.

He grunts. Then he taps his fingers against the counter while whistling, something to drive me off the edge.

Sighing, I mentally hate myself for acknowledging him. "Still an annoying fuck I see." I found myself countering, eyes still closed.

He chuckles lightly. Even with eyes close, I could feel his eyes boring into me.

"I still have your bra you know."

My eyes snap open and point to glare at the fucker beside me - Dante, ladies and gentlemen, a demon hunter like me who is also a loose asshole with shitty good looks and apparently, the person who stole my virginity.

"You loose motherfucking asshole."

"Nice to see you too Gemma."

"The feeling is not mutual." I run my fingers through my hair; it tangles against my hair as I stare into his devilishly good looks. "and would you please give that up?"

"Give what up?" he asks, feigning innocence. "The one about your bra?"

"Yes." I respond sharply, earning a roar of laughter from Dante.

My eyes scan the clock; I've got 30 minutes until my pizza leaving me with this ass. Of all the fuckers in the world.

"Hey, lighten up Gem!"

"Fuck off."

"It's just a bra y'know-"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Aw, c'mon-"

"I said shut it."

This ceaseless wordplay is seriously giving me a headache.

"Shouldn't you be waking up at this hour?" and the topic changes, my headache doubles.

"And shouldn't you be at the clubs looking for cheap hookers?"

Dante hums, rubbing his fingers on his lips. "Touché."

I smirk triumphantly, his sleazy eyes staring back at mine.

Sighing again, just this once did I manage to pull up a sleazy smile of my own. And the words come tumbling out of my mouth.

"Hey." A smile forms on his face.

I've known Dante since I've first heard of him from my uncle. He was all bad news even as a kid. We barely talked or bothered each other's existence up until the death of my uncle. We formally met in Limbo, he'd show off in my face and I'd do the same with his. One way or another, we gradually learned to tolerate each other's existence and gradually became acquaintances. He was pretty much like me, a lone wolf with a broken past. We both enjoy pizzas with no olives and a good booze. We both tend not to dwell on the sappy stuff much, it wasn't our style.

One day, I just so happened to bump into him at a strip club after my supposed meet with my contractor. We talked, exchanged a drink or two and one thing led to another, which ended up with the two of us in his trailer, an hour session of rough sex and a forgotten bra. That day, I awoke to a terrible hangover naked next to him. My dignity, to my horror, had just been taken away and I had completely let my guard down and succumb to his ways. I vowed then to ignore the asshole for as long as I live.

Funny thing, it never happened.

I made that vow when I was 17, and yet, we still bother each other's presence. And every time we meet, he'd mention the fucking bra! The guy must be mental I think, mental in a whole new different level.

"So how'ya been?"

I scoff, practically choking on my saliva.

"Dude seriously, fuck off. You're grossing me out."

"Hey, I was just trying to be nice."

"Isn't that the understatement of the century."

"Ah, c'mon Gem! We haven't seen each other in forever!"

"We met two days ago at that stupid strip club you ass." I mutter, toying the salt and paper in front of me.

"But still…" he whines, scratching the back of his head.

Sneaking a glance at the clock, there was only 25 minutes more. Taking a deep breathe, I pinch the bridge of my nose, this will take a while. And when I turn back to Dante, I find that he was occupying himself by eyeing towards the kitchen flippantly. While he's busy, my eyes absentmindedly trail up to Dante's features. Hot damn this guy…

Mohawk-styled black hair with a scruffy mane, grey-blue eyes, a round face, a small scar on his right brow down casting to his cheek, strong jawline, firm muscles hidden underneath those clothes. Dang, hot damn this guy.

"Like what you see?" Dante says with a smirk.

I snap out of my daze, groaning loudly for having been caught.

"Shut up."

"Aw, c'mon Gemmy-"

"Ew, don't call me that."

He chuckles, his smirk still on his face. He starts to lean in to me, his tone darkens. That sultry tone that brings back a certain memory.

"You know you want to…" he says lowly leaning closer to me, his tongue rolling against his teeth. His eyes darken and I gulp, hoping he doesn't see. Or at least know that he still has that effect on me. His fingers lightly trace my neck, my collarbone; his touch leaves a flaming trail that sends delicious tingles down my spine. Unconsciously, I hum in delight. Gradually he touches my arm, caressing through the fabric as he rests his other hand against my hip.

"You are an asshole," I mutter, our noses brush against each other. My eyes are fogged up with wanton need; his are glossy with pure lust. "I hope you know that…"

"Hmm…" was all he could muster as our lips were merely centimetres away from colliding.

Pressing my index finger against his lips, I prevent the kiss from happening, giving him a coy look. Two can play at his little game. But that's not the reason why I stopped him.

Our surroundings start to distort, the building expands and collapses. Strangely enough, the two of us manage to remain as we are despite Limbo consorting in.

When we come to, Dante sighs aggravated. I suppress the urge to giggle. He smirks against my finger, snatching one of his guns from his holster and shoots behind me. My ears deafen from the sound of his gun. I pull away, when a Ravager uses his chainsaw to break in between us. Countless Bathos and Pathos fly above us, scowling at us.

In rapid motion, my revolvers are in my hands and are firing at will shooting down at the ugly demons before us.

'Kill Dante.' A stream of headlight flashes above us.

"Somebody's not happy to see you." I say, crossing my arms to aim and the Ravager and Harpy at the same time.

"That's not new."

Harpy dies first, a few Pathos follows, but Ravager still stands.

So far, none of our guns seem to work on this guy's being that he's able to deflect them at every turn. I pocket my guns for a while and grab a few pocket knives from my boots, Dante whistles at the sight of this.

"How long have you had those?" he asks, guns still going at it.

"For a while," studying the Ravager, but he was moving too quick. I needed a distraction. "Dante, distract him!" I command, he willingly complies. As ugly has his attention on Dante, I use the opportunity to study his features. I throw the knives at a certain angle, hitting him at where it hurts. Ravager screams in pain, I smirk and pull up my revolvers and start shooting away.

A Hell Knight spawns from the ground, rushing straight at me.

"Gemma, dodge!"

Sharp scissoring sound circles around us, more particularly heading towards my direction. I dodge in time; it hits the Hell Knight square in the face. The three pointed cyclone blades surprise me.

"Since when did you have those?"

The blades flying back to him, morphing into his sword.

"Sometime." He replies with a smirk.

The Ravager reprises to stand, struggling albeit to his wounds when another stream of headlight flashes below us saying 'Take Gemma'.

Dante derides beside me.

"You gotta be shitting me."

As if to prove me wrong, two Bathos fly towards me, grabbing me by the shoulders and flies away. Ravager and the Hell Knight keep Dante occupied, while two weak Bathos manage to snatch me. Oh hell no.

"How's the weather up there?" Dante teases, his guns ringing in the background.

Anger seethes.

"Very funny."

Shrugging harshly at one of my shoulders free, I take a scythe sword and start hacking at the first Bathos. Blood purges as it falls, leaving me awkwardly hanging unto the other Bathos. I managed to force my gripped arm to grab another scythe sword from my pocket, slashing unto the last Bathos. My landing was all gracefully and poised - the art of deception.

Oh, I forgot to tell you about these other babies of mine. I'm not only a gun wielder, but I'm also a sword type of person, most especially twin scythe swords. I also have a bunch of small knives that I use for small reasons; I keep them in a compartment within my boots.

Dante on the other hand is a guy with a lot of boy toys, and the funny thing about him? He names them. Ivory and Ebony, his semi-automatic pistols, Rebellion, his sword. And as for the remainder of his toys, I have no fucking idea what he names them.

'Take Gemma!'

Like hell they would.

Running towards the Ravager, leaving Dante to deal with the Hell Knight, my sword were cutting at his arms and legs whilst carefully dodging his chainsaw. Thankfully enough, none of my hair seems to get in the way. A blessing for short hair. Ravager throws me off, sending me roughly back-to-back against Dante.

"Wanna wrap this up?"

I smirk at his words. "Thought you'd never ask."

We spin against our backs, exchanging enemies. I return one sword in turn for a revolver, shooting and lashing as much as I could. Behind me, I could tell that Dante was dealing with Ravager pretty well.

Stabbing repeatedly my sword towards his armor, I swerve him around and then kick him with the heel of my boot. He flies towards a beaten Ravager, the two equally weak yet still has the will to fight. They struggle to stand but before they could even move another muscle, our blades thrust right through their heads leaving them dead.

Dante and I stare at Ravager and the Hell Knight for a moment, right until they turned into ashes. And as we pull out our swords, coincidentally, we look up at the same time. Gray eyes meeting gray-blue. A wave of nostalgia washes over, this was just how we were back then. What good memories.

"Hawaiian special with no olives?" the clerk calls, bringing me back to the real world. Dante's eyes don't leave mine. Avertedly, I turn away to get my pizza, paying the clerk and return to him. His pizza box surprisingly rests under his hand. I raise my brow in suspicion.

"Explain that." I point towards the pizza beside him.

His eyes still don't leave mine; it somewhat resides to a playful glint.

"I ordered take out, but I didn't want delivery. Takes forever to get it. And 'sides, I could use an exercise. Plus, it was worth coming over here."

"Thanks for a mouthful of excuses." I retort, sliding my box away from the counter. Dante isn't very far as I approach the door. And by the time we get out, it's late.

I was about to reach for my hood, but Dante's hand stops me.

"Leave the hood down Gem, nobody's gonna get ya."

I throw his hand away; he laughs and ruffles my hair.

"I was beginning to think you didn't have hair."

"Har har."

"No wonder it's so dark, it's never seen daylight in its whole life!"

"Shut up, I like it that way."

He nods, fingers suddenly running through my hair. The action makes me feel shorter than I already am; he's a head and a half taller than me after all.

"Though I missed your longer hair, I'd say that I like this better."

I let out a light laugh. "It's easier to fight this way." Which is a fact. I've had my hair short since I was seventeen considering the ongoing rumor of me and posters of me everywhere. I decided to cut it in the shortest way possible; otherwise, no one would recognize me. Plus, I've always loved the gentle breeze that whips against my nape and less hassle I get during hot days.

Dante's hands pause at the nape of my neck, his fingers twists the tips of my hair. He looks down on me with eyes glinting with glazed lust. The alarm in my head sets in, and before I know it, his free hand grab my chin down and his lips are on the nape of my neck, biting it hard that it left a mark. Then he suckles, as if to soothe the pain, I bite my tongue to prevent a moan from coming out of my mouth. I wouldn't want him to get cocky.

Angrily, I push him away and trudge away from him. Not bothering to spare him a 'see ya' or shit. He chuckles darkly as I go. That sly bastard, he just fucking marked me! I am so not his or anything! Fucking Dante!