Soothing Rain – A DMC fanfiction

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from DMC. I wish I did, though.

A/N: This fan fiction has no real timeline. I just wrote this for fun and I know it's not accurate. It's no use to complain about keeping someone in character.

Prologue – Back in Business

A man with his hair a little over his ears sat on a green leather chair, looking very bored. His hand leaning on his cheek, he gave an impression of a man who had acclaimed everything he wanted in his life. Topless and wearing black pants and heavy-looking boots, they called him the Son of Sparda, "The human-allied half-demon", Dante. Just Dante.

The room around him looked like a bar, not yet open though. The pool table stood alone in the middle of the room, a garage lamp hanging above. The floor was scraped and dirty, which made it look older than it actually was. The tapestry of the walls was falling off. The whole room looked like straight from a western saloon. Though, the room's disciplined image was broken by a huge row of speakers. If the music was turned on, everyone would know where the party had started.

To many neighbour's joy, the music was turned off. Dante kept sitting on his chair, his legs on the table. The room was silent, too silent so to say. Only the sound of wind blowing outside told him that everyone was alive.

Dante's gaze was locked on something that was far away in the horizon. Usually when people daze off, their gaze wanders in that horizon, but not his. It was as if he waited for someone to pop out from that non-existent entity called "nowhere". The old phone next to him stayed silent.

All of the sudden, Dante heard the sound of footsteps from the door. Perking his head up, he stared now at the door. He didn't bother to swing his legs away from the table. As the footsteps came closer, he could hear the hesitated steps. A couple of second seemed like hours and finally, the door's handle turned slowly. The creaking sound of the door must've startled the incomer, because everything stopped moving for a couple of seconds.

Then, finally the door was opened. Not wide open, only so open that the incomer could pass. The basic gesture of respect to the place, though something told him that this was only cowardly. Dante tilted his head and looked at this quite intriguing incomer. Straightening his back and standing up, he secretly grasped his own gun behind his thigh. After clearing his throat, his voice rumbled throughout the room. "What do ya want, kid?"

Indeed, the incomer was a kid in his eyes. A small boy with a height hardly over a meter looked at him. Probably around his first ten years. He looked so thin that Dante had to wonder how he got the door open. The boy's face was a graceful oval, which gave a lot of people difficulties to see whether he was a boy or a girl. The eyes were light blue, almost white. His hair was messy and no doubt he had tried to comb it this morning without success. He was wearing regular pants and just a simple t-shirt. Considering it was fall now, the boy must've come from a poor family.

The first monotone look on his face changed into an intrigued gaze. The boy wouldn't say anything; he was probably too scared at the moment. He sure had heard his voice, but no reaction.

The older male in the room tried again. "Hey, kiddo, I'd expect you to give an answer. Didn't your mom tell you that?"

This seemed to get the boy's attention. His light blue pierced Dante as he scanned through the old man. A little bored look on his face, Dante sighed. Something was not right about this kid. His hand moving faster than human eye could register, he pointed his gun at the boy.

"The question is … What the fuck do you want from here?" Dante didn't avoid any cursing. This kid probably knew more "bad" words than he did. The boy looked at him, now startled. He opened and closed his mouth, as if he tried to tell Dante something. Dante looked at the boy with evident irritation and shot the floor next to the boy.

Like any normal person would, the boy dodged even if the bullet wouldn't hit him. Rolling to the floor, the boy didn't have the guts to lift his gaze to the now very mad Dante. He wouldn't let his eyes off the boy. He stared at him, the gun pointing straight to the boy's head. He had had too many bad experiences of camouflages in his life.

"I'll ask you once more. Then you'll be dead meat. Either answer and die or just die. What the hell do you want from here? Did the cat steal your tongue?" He asked with a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"No, a demon stole it. And lay off the gun."

Completely caught off guard, Dante pulled out his sword and pointed it exactly at the new intruder. "And what if I don't, punk?" The fact that someone had actually snuck behind him made him even more intrigued. This day didn't turn out to be boring at all. No doubt his beloved brother was AGAIN behind all this.

Remaining silent the new incomer, who Dante couldn't see, chuckled. As soon as Dante's brains could register the amused laughter, he felt a nasty tug. It was as if someone was ripping his arm off. He didn't let go of his sword, and neither of his gun. Black tendril-like strands soon came to his view. Dante tried to gasp in air, but the tendrils tightened their grip of his hand. He couldn't control his hand too much at this rate, but he had still his other hand. A ridiculous mistake from the opponent, he thought amused. No matter how he pulled or tried to fight back, the grip just tightened around his arm. The tendrils were proceeding to strangle him, whereas Dante was proceeding to lure the opponent completely.

A swift move of his hand and he shot the tendrils so many times that he couldn't even count them. Ebony and Ivory, his beloved gun never betrayed him. A low screeching sound … and the tendrils along with the intruder were gone. The little boy still remained on the ground, he had been crying through the whole event.

Shaking his arm in order to get it to feel again, he gazed at the boy. It seemed that he had no other choice. Putting the sword back and pushing the gun's pipe harshly against the boy's forehead, he lifted the boy up quite harshly, pulling only one arm. The boy shrieked a little, but Dante hushed him, his whisper was flesh-piercing.

"You have quite some explaining to do. I don't give a shit if you're mute. That's YOUR problem."