Stray Souls


A secret kept for oh so long

buried under rain and stone

ancient shadows will roam

the heavy hearts will burn

.

Tarry the gates of yore

doom the kings of old

the echo of time will form

to chain the soil from fall

.

Ancient souls will fly again

lady luck sends us her son

wisdom's right hand is repaid

two sides will align to one

.

What was broken can be undone

what was stolen can be regained

what was dead can come to life

what was wrong can be made right

.

Babylonian script, approx. 30th century BC

Transcribed from the encyclopedia of The Third

Translated, copied and archived by Danzig


Prologue

The first time Dante saw her was a few years in the past. She was walking the streets like one of those lost souls he saw ever so often, with empty eyes and empty pockets. He didn't pay much attention back then. He wasn't the good Samaritan for every poor individual he crossed paths with.

He always minded his own business and hoped that others did the same with theirs. He wouldn't meddle in affairs he clearly was not personal affected by. Selfish? No, wary and with a meaning to secrecy because he had to guard himself real close. The past had taught him that in a cruel way.

A few weeks later after that, he saw her again with a bag of groceries. It was raining and her the paper back was visibly soaked. He kept walking behind her until he caught up, because she stopped and adjusted her grip on the bag. He passed her without a single look.

Then he heard the tell tale clatter of glasses, cans and other things. He cringed. Walk on, he told himself, but it was no use and he already had turned around to see all the stuff rolling on the ground. A soft fuck escaped his lips.

He walked back and without a word he started gathering her things. Prying eyes were on him. And a small shy smile was beginning to form on her lips. He peered from under the fringe of his hair as their hands were busy picking up all the various things. Bottles, boxes, a few jars.

He mentally groaned. To many things to be carried without help by her two small hands.

"Thanks..." She mumbled, astonished from receiving help from someone. No one ever in this city paid attention to anyone. So, the more she was surprised it would be someone like him. He looked like straight out of some book. The red trench coat was made of leather. It looked quite expensive. He also wore pants of a softer looking black leather down to heavy boots.

His hair were white as snow and his eyes blue like the far away sky somewhere above those heavy dark rain clouds where the sun was shining.

But the most prominent thing that had imprinted itself right off the bat was the strange air around him. Maybe her fingers tingled from the cold of the rain and wind, but somehow she felt a strange warmth coming off of him. Like the warmth of a lazy summer evening breeze.

It was slightly disturbing. Her senses must have been playing tricks on her mind as he had bent down to help her get her things back up.

He straightened back up with his arm full and hummed affirmative the her prior showing of gratitude.

He meant to push everything back into the girls arms as she rose as well, but she was already holding too much and was clearly having a hard time holding it securely in place already.

They stood in awkward silence. Few seconds passed. Then he made up his mind, taking a step closer to her and tried to pile the rest of the groceries on top of those she already held. She juggled them around. And a can fell back to the ground and dented in the process.

Just great.

Her gaze helplessly followed the path the can had rolled off to. He sighed in defeat, before eventually retrieving it.

"Where do you live? I'll help you carry your stuff."

She blinked at his offer and gave him another shy smile. "Uh, just around the corner and down the street." And Dante was grateful he didn't have to walk across half the city, as he took most of the groceries off of her to carry them himself.

"Follow me." She started to walk with her new appointed knight in red armour, she almost giggled at this.

Dante certainly did not feel the need to strike up a conversation. He partly blamed the foul weather for it, but mostly the constant bad mood he found himself in these days.

They walked in silence through the pouring rain.

Dante was mostly protected by his heavy leather trench, but she was dripping wet from the merciless rain. The wind also had picked up and she turned her face so the cold wet raindrops wouldn't hit her directly and obscure her vision completely.

"Shitty day, huh." He said, without even knowing why he bothered to talk. Might have been the heavy awkward silence and the constant trickle of raindrops to eventually grind on his nerves.

"It's always raining in this damn city." She replied, but her voice wasn't bitter or anything.

Dante cracked her smile. "Pretty much. Well, you should definitely take a plastic bag next time you go shopping."

She gave a small laugh. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." He sounded light-heartedly, half amused even. She found his voice to be mellow and slightly boyish. Pleasant.

They kept silent again. But Devon didn't mind, neither did he. They already had turned the corner and proceeded to walk on and Dante let himself fall a step back. She seemed a nice and decent girl, to good to be actually living in these shady parts of this city, so his wary eyes scanned her thoroughly out of building curiousity.

Her clothes were worn down and tattered. Her hair was a wet messy ponytail. The dull grey jacket had frayed ends. Her pants looked like they were green once, but were washed out and greyed instead. Her boots had seen better days too. But the wetness of the rain made it hard to decipher any color of that beaten down attire clearly.

He shook his head to himself. Well, he wouldn't ask any questions. Not his place and not the time either. But he couldn't help the small voice of concern piping up in the back of his mind.

He tried to shut it up, thinking of his preparations for the next job Lady had offered him. Pain in the ass, but it sure paid the bills. And by god, he needed the money. He wasn't really interested in any religious matters or stories of his heritage, or anything regarding this kind of stuff.

Yet, it was a lot of money and that was what mattered to him. And maybe the fact they actually worshipped his father.

Now that had been the big news. And Trish was off faster, than he could look. She managed to infiltrate the city and the strange cult, which was leading it. Something was shifting underneath, she had said. After that it had gone silent. Trish was a big girl and very capable of watching out for herself, but he was worried. He would wait one more day and then follow her to that backwater island with the city, full of silly cultists and religious nonsense, called Fortuna.

He would be gone for a good while. God, he hated travelling. It was boring, tedious and always inconvenient. He already saw himself sleeping in the car on the roadside.

The girl in front of him had stopped abruptly and he almost had bumped into her, caught up in his thoughts entirely. She fuddled around to get the keys out of her pocket and tried not to drop anything while doing so.

Dante had the chance to look up and down at the building they stood in front of. And it was in the exact desolate state he had expected. The paint was chapped and coming off. The windows of the first floor were broken. The front door to the four storey building looked like someone had given it a good beating, as it sported a variety of big cracks.

Did someone vent his anger with an axe on it?

"Thanks. Just leave it on the floor inside, please." She said, when she had managed to open the door. Dante was surprised it even still worked properly and could be locked altogether. His eyes followed the motion of her hand pointing inside.

He peeked into the dark hallway and took a step in to lay his share of her stuff down. He stood again and she gave him another grin, that somehow hit him with a strange warm feeling. It was genuine. Thankful. Not something you would come across easily these days. And in this part of the city either.

He gave her his cockiest grin. "No problem."

He briefly looked around the beaten down interior of the stairwell. Horrible. If someone had told him, that this building wasn't an abandoned ruin he would have not believed it.

But what was worst, than the look of havocked place, was the smell. He couldn't help but to choke a bit, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Who lived here on purpose? Well, by the embarrassed face she made, she wasn't probably living here only by free choice and knew oh too well that this wretched place was anything but paradise.

"Well, I'm off. See ya around." He saluted with his two fingers, before he turned around to quickly get away.

God, why was this unsettling to him? Because no kid should have to live like this. With kid though, he meant probably 20 years old or something. It was just kind of a habit to call others younger, than the age of around thirty he still looked like. But truth be told, some days he felt really old.

All she replied was a weak yes. But he probably didn't even catch that, the way he practically fled outside. She saw him cross the street with what seemed like a natural swagger and swiftly walk away the way they had come from.

"Huh. What a weirdo." She mumbled and went to the task of getting her shopping up to her place.

And she never saw him again for a long time. Sometimes she caught herself looking for that red trench, but it wouldn't show up again.

And it seemed like no one knew anything about him. She had described him to various people from shop owners, over the nice bulky lady from the cafe to the constantly stoned teen boy, who lived on the upper floor.

But no one remembered to have seen someone with his distinctive look. It had puzzled her for a while, but then she eventually forgot about him. Until she met him again much later.


Dante and Fortuna. It had been a mess.

They had brought utter chaos and ruin upon the beautiful see side castle city, when they uncovered the truth behind that demon hoarding cult. The Order of the Sword. What a load of bullshit.

But on the good side, he finally had managed to locate Vergil's beloved sword. And with his help and Vergil's, Nero defeated the Savior and rescued the city.

Everything, that revealed itself after, had left him in disarray. Almost.

Yes, they managed to save the city from Sanctus. But not from themselves.

Those shameless residents, who tried to blame it solely on him. And on poor Nero. The kid had lost everything dear to him in the process and still had fought bravely for them. What uneducated bunch of people. For what the Order had done, they quickly turned on Sparda and Sanctus and their holy preachings.

But, in retrospect, they simply didn't know better.

A devastated Nero couldn't take it long though. The blame, the hurt, the guilt. The constant reminder by the people, accusing him viciously, how he had let the Orders captain and his lovely songstress sister die. Nero's existence rampaged on the brink of insanity. Defeated and depressed Nero fled the city and ran to the only person, he knew. The last person he had learned to trust: Dante.

Adding to his desolate state was the agony of still owning Yamato. Dante knew, Nero wouldn't have made without his help. Vergil couldn't be allowed to rampage inside Nero's mind any longer.

Danzig provided them with the only solution, that would keep both souls remotely intact. An unholy ritual, that separated the two from each other and, as a last resort for Dante not wanting to send his brother back to hell, Vergil eventually had to become a devil arm.

Vergil and Nero stayed for good with Dante after that.

To Dante's utter astonishment, given Nero's fierceness, short temper and juvenile behaviour, he never actually blamed Dante for anything that happened in Fortuna. For that he had been grateful. In return, he did everything in his power to nurse the kid back to his usual self, cater to his every need in time of grief and self-doubt.

He owed him this much, and his heart wouldn't let him turn away anyway. And the kid did put up a fight to finally come back from the dark depth of depression and self-loathing. Even accepting what he had become.

It was because he had someone he could trust and accepted him the way he was. Nero's temper tantrums, his breakdowns in despair and tears, Dante stood firm and bore it with serene placidity. So much, he even was surprised at himself.

Vergil had another take on consolation and would often take the kid out to train. Nero took great interest in Vergil's fighting style, but seldom had the same steely composure to replay the complex routines over and over.

But Vergil was satisfied nonetheless, even when Nero lacked the patience to the arduous task. He had a training partner, because Dante never showed much concern for exercising. Vergil showed a portion of self content to educate someone actually capable enough to endure his dignified swordplay.

He was a sucker for flattery after all, but only Dante knew about this specific information about his brother.

So, both brothers had freely given up some personal space to their newest addition in the devil hunting business and Nero had settled quiet nicely and even went so far relocate them and the business to a bigger house eventually.

The events at Fortuna weren't completely forgotten at that time, but had settled at a manageable distance somewhere in the corner of Nero's mind.

Life was good as it was right now. And his companionship with both elder devil hunters was surprisingly fulfilling enough for him. All he had ever wished for in life was to belong somewhere. And his feeling had told time and time again, that this place was Devil May Cry. It had become his home.

So after getting comfortable with the life away from the secluded life in Fortuna and getting in touch with the big city life, Dante and Vergil started training Nero sufficiently to professionally take on jobs around Capulet City and beyond.

His knowledge of the world lacked greatly but by now he knew Capulet City by heart. And all the obscurities and atrocities that came with it.

Vergil would even go so far to call Nero reliable. Dante would not. To him, Nero would always be the kid in their family of hunters.

So, most of the time Dante was the one visiting their contacts. It was something about issues. Something about Nero being way too emotional in critical situations and Vergil simply being the intimidating guy he was.

So, it was everybodies Darling Dante, who mostly handled personal contacts. Neither of the other hunters seemed to mind, though.

Nero felt bored and Vergil wasn't the talkative type anyway, especially outside their tight knit family, which included also Lady and Trish, even to Vergil.

And it was at that time, when Dante did go out for job hunting and generally catching up on rumours in the confined circles of non and partial human society, that he saw the grocery shopping girl again. He didn't really remember their encounter anymore. It was buried deep along many other things in the back of his mind.


The moment she saw him, the memory resurfaced. The white hair was not something one could easily forget. And to her surprise, he almost sported the same attire, with minor changes here and there. And she involuntarily wondered where the hell one would get this kind of clothes to begin with.

She sat on a parkbench that had seen better days, like th epark itself, enjoying the last streaks of orange light across the bleak green when she heard an obnoxious engine roar. She turned to detect the source of the disturbing noise, which echoed through the empty streets.

Easily spotting the old fashioned motorcycle as it came around a corner. His hair was flowing freely in the breeze, cause he apparently refused to wear a helmet.

Her breath hitched instantly as she recognized him. He was cruising slow enough for her to get a decent look, but not close enough to make out any real facial traits. The hair and the clothes though spoke pretty much for themselves.

The prideful way, how he throned on the bike, mixed with a casual waft of indifference with his head held high, she knew it was him.

She watched in slight awe, as he passed her on his pretty old but well kept motorcycle. To her disappointment, he turned on the next corner and was out of sight within seconds. She refused the oncoming urge to follow, she couldn't possibly keep up with that machine, so she went back to what she was doing with a heavy sigh, not secretly wishing he might come back.

She clutched her book to her chest, she'd been reading the last hour or so, but in the dim street lights it became more difficult by the second. It had turned dark pretty quickly and the white haired guy didn't show up again, so she got up and stuffed the book into her dingy backpack she had dug out the garbage a few weeks ago.

There really wasn't much she still owned and the old red backpack was more than sufficient for her needs. Occasional she would a find books or magazines left behind at a station and that was pretty much all she had to be occupied.

She went back to the pavement of the street she had seen him earlier and began her search for a secure spot to stay the night. The air was fresh, but not chilly. It was almost pleasant, but she preferred to have a secluded place for the remainder of the night, because these days it seemed like ever so often the night was reserved for creeps.

She left the park behind, which was placid at day, but a proper danger at night. She needed to get back to the shopping district and look there. At night-time it was the most abandoned place of the city. Bars and clubs with potential troublemakers were in the middle of the city and she usually avoided the area if she could help it.

Of course, it couldn't be helped to pass the group of drunks and night owls in general. She had administered a sixth sense for trouble over the years and most of the time managed to avoid any incident beforehand.

That's the kind of thing she learned while living on the streets of Capulet City. It could be a dangerous shithole all time. But she had learned her fair share of rules around the city and where she shouldn't go at night or which places to avoid altogether.

Low Town especially was a place one like her should not visit. People there weren't exactly welcoming. Everyone minded their own business, but unfriendly, wary eyes had told her, she didn't belong. So she had stopped venturing there completely, especially after dark. Sometimes the air seemed to shift and present her to a restless feeling, heavy not to be shaken off lightly.


In the cities core stood still the huge concrete skeleton of Temen-ni-gru. Why it wouldn't disappear, the reasons where unknown, even to Vergil. At some point Dante had gotten used to seeing it, whenever he hit Low Town. Well, he could see it from anywhere in the city but since the shady district was wrapped around it as closest, he could feel the dim aura it still upheld, making his blood rush.

The broken shell loomed over him as he directed his bike to follow the street that snaked around it. Dante did it ever so often, because the lingering electric buzz of the former hell gate still presented itself in an unpleasant way. It was somehow unnerving, but at the same time intoxicated his demon half until it hummed with a satisfied baritone.

A few watery drops hit his face and he looked up as dark clouds bloated up to cover the moon. A chilly wind picked up to bring the heavy rain cloud in position directly above the city. And then the rain came down on him. Cold and harsh.

He silently muttered a curse at the god forsaken place and hour and doubted if it was even worth to come here. Especially in this weather.


The young woman hadn't been paying much attention anymore to where exactly she was going. Her thoughts still clung to the red figure. She wondered what he was doing here anyway. Normal people kept their doors locked and stayed at home at this time. On the other hand, he didn't quite the invoke the feeling of what was considered normal.

Tentative drops started falling. Darkness settled in and filled every crack and fissure of the old buildings with overflowing deep shadows. A gust of wind hit her freezing from and the rain started pouring down, showing no mercy for lonely souls without a shelter.

Heavy lids gazed up at the darkened sky. Why did it always had to rain in this city? She hissed in discomfort at how much she was drenched within seconds, clutching her backpack to her chest under the jacket so it wouldn't get soaked completely.

She was half running and the steady sound of drumming raindrops was almost deafening as it came in contact with the cracked concrete beneath her hasty feet. A grey curtain hindered her sight and and the wind became a howling storm like a wounded beast.

While she broke out into a last sprint, she still tried to look around through strands of wet hair, which clung in streaks across her face. This was a nightmare. She shouldn't have lingered subconsciosly waiting for him. How unbearable stupid of her. She had enough to worry about already, like finding a secure spot to stay the night. Or at least some hidden corner where she could wait and hide from the ice cold rain.

She frantically tried to make out the contours of the buildings that lined the downtrodden street, until her eyes focused on something in the distance. Even through the heavy rain she could see it. Did she already walk this far? Did she walk in the wrong direction in the first place? Now she cursed loudly under her erratic breath.

At least there was no soul in sight. But the disturbing tower was too close. She had to get away from here. It loomed over her small drenched and freezing figure and she could almost taste the disturbing, thick aura on her tongue like bitter salt. And she could swear the air had turned ten degrees colder.

She changed direction and ran back to where she came from, still trying to decipher where she was exactly. There were so many abandoned buildings with dark windows, she still had to follow quite a few streets to get back to the first occupied area around the tower.

She stopped short at a largely destroyed intersection and settled against the post of a dead street-lamp to catch her breath. Cold air stung in her lungs and she needed a few minutes to catch her breath. Her senses were dulled by the oppressed feeling of dread and breathlessness, forcing her body to the brink of it's weak abilities. Her heart pounded harshly against her ribcage.

Her eyes scanned the building in front of her, discovering fissure large enough to crawl in. There wouldn't be a way inside, because of the fallen rubble blocking out the smallest of chances. But at least it would provide her decent place to sit out the storm and escape the rain.

The pain in her chest was blocking everything else out. Her throat was burning up. She still pushed herself off the post and scurried towards the small niche. She breathed a relieved sigh, when she felt, that the wind came form the side, so she was kindly hidden from the full onslaught of it.

She let herself fall down onto her butt and leaned back against the battered wall. She was pretty good positioned to have an adequate view at the intersection. And it was dark enough for her to melt with the shadows if someone would pass her by.


Dante cursed the the storm as his bike carried him through low town. He hadn't seen or sensed anything out of the ordinary in the abandoned piles of destroyed houses and streets, but somehow it had become a habit to patrol the area. Vergil's mess, how he fondly called it.

But he had enough now. He was drenched to his very bone. Not much freezing, because of his mixed blood rushing hotly through his veins, but nonetheless he preferred the comforts of his swivel chair or the couch with this kind of weather around. He slowed the bike down, having to go left at the next intersection.

The motorcycle leisurely turned and Dante scanned the the lit area of the bike's large headlight. And briefly, something caught his eye. A swift flash of something light between the rubble of the dark building. He was puzzled at this. His senses were keen and he felt it more like actually saw it.

His senses zeroed in on the presence. It sure had a heartbeat. A human heart, which beat frantically like that of a chased rabbit. He let the bike coast to a stop and then cut the engine, resting on the kickstand. He shook the rain from his hair and swiped water from eyes to get a better look at the figure. "Huh." He hummed to himself, before he got off to approach the human.

When the headlight had hit her, she had flinched. And her heart, that had almost settled broke out into another sprint. She heard the engine die.

No. Don't come near me, her alarmed mind yelled. She didn't know whether to run or to crouch back as much as possible. She would have to get past him. And somehow she doubted her body to do so.

But it was too late anyway. Her widened unblinking eyes were glued to the tall dark figure, that approached leisurely as she sat there.

"Come out." A raspy, dark, but gentle male voice said to her. But as soft and velvety as it was, it also had a commanding tone and she didn't even think about it as her body slowly rose by itself. Damn.

Her eyes dropped to look at something on the ground, anything to keep her eyes occupied, anything but him. A hand was extended to her, clad in a black leather fingerless glove.

"This is no place to wander around alone, especially at night." His voice ignited something inside her. The cheerful tone surprised her and she could see a grin across his face. Hesitantly grabbing his hand on a whim and she let herself be pulled up.

He peeked at her face, slightly bent and even chuckled. "Now look at you, all wet and soggy." She finally met his gaze with a forlorn.

It was the same guy.

Her bewildered brain registered this at a painfully slow pace, though she recognized the voice and that distinctive red colour of his leather coat. The memory flashed before her inner eye. He was older, sure, so was she. He had a slight stubble on his chin and might had gotten a hair cut one time or the other.

Did he recognize her as well? With the playful cheeky grin and the somewhat friendly amicable attitude he first gave her the impression he might. But his eyes didn't give off any indication of it.

She still stared dumbfounded at him, before she realized her hand was still in his much bigger one. She bit her lower lip and tried to gain in back, but his grip tightened. Fear settled into her gut like a brick.

There was something inside her, that manifested at the strong, but gently grip of his hand and it quickly changed from a quiet whisper to a defying voice in her head. She didn't trust him. How could she?

"Let go of me." She said, trying to sound brave.

His grin did not falter. "I'm not trying to hurt you. If I wanted to, you'd already be on the floor by now." This unnerving cocky grin didn't do much to sway her. Instead she planted her feet sternly into the ground and pulled desperately to free her hand.

He chuckled and with a shrug, he instantly let her go. The girls eyes widened in disbelief, when he unexpectedly did so and she tumbled to the ground from the force she had actually managed to conjure. She landed square on her butt and fell right into one of those countless puddles on the pavement.

"Hey, why would you do that?"

She grunted in disgust as the water soaked the rest of her clothes that had managed to stay dry up until now. She struggled to get up and throw a hissy fit at him for letting her fall, but he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

And that blue eyed glare stopped her train of thoughts altogether.

"Look, I just wanted to help you. But if you insist on being difficult, then so be it. Or you could get up and let me give you a ride home. And frankly, I wanna get home as soon as possible, so make up your mind. I don't care for your possessions, which I might add, aren't anything close to what I'm interested in nor am I interested in you. I just don't want a..." Human, he wanted to say, but managed to swallow the word in the last second. "...woman alone in this part of the city. It's not safe. So, are you coming or not?" He gave an exasperated huff and looked down at her with his blue eyes that bored right into her soul.

Whatever or whoever he was, she could detect the strange air around him. But as she let herself get drawn in by his gaze, she knew. He was speaking the truth. Her memory was hazy and he had changed. But underneath it all she could still feel the same warm glow.

"Or you'd rather stay?"

There were no words to properly describe it. He might look older and wasn't as aloof as back then. But he held the same aura, that didn't make her flee their first meeting. Her initial shock and anger disappeared. He was trying to help. Unconventionally so, but what mattered is, that he had stopped for her.

"No..." The woman tried to push herself up, but was offered a hand instead. Again. He hauled her up and she almost crashed into him, but was stopped by his other hand on her waist, steadying her small frame. "You're freezing, kid. Come on, hop on. The sooner we get out of here the better."

"Yeah..."

And without further comment he dragged her towards the motorcycle and mounted it immediately. When he was settled and grabbed the handlebars, she took it as her cue to climb onto the bike slightly awkwardly.

"This your first time riding a bike?" He asked looking back over his shoulder.

"Yeah.." She breathed, still unable to form a complete sentence. She didn't know if this was incredibly foolish or not. But he had helped her once, so maybe he was just a good guy with a bad attitude.

"Put your arms around me and hold on tight."

She almost gagged at the thought. What, no! His strong hands quickly searched for arms behind his back, when she didn't respond right away. "You need to hold on tight. I'm gonna be real careful, but you still need to hold on."

And without further ado, he snagged her wrist and wound her arms around him until both her hands touched. Hepatted her interlaced fingers softly for a single time reassuring her she'd be fine.

She sat there sheepishly, accommodating to the feeling of his bod.y He was wide, she mused. Not fat mind you, but very muscular. She could feel his stomach under her hands react when he spoke. And it surely seemed anything but chubby.

He turned once more, when he felt her sitting well and her arms tight around his waist. "Good to go?"

She nodded into his shoulder, a curious anticipation in her guts. "Yes."

And the huge bike came to life with a loud roar. The vibrations shook her to the bone and her whole body hummed with the purr of the engine. That felt actually pretty good. Powerful.

Then they were moving, and she saw the scenery pass her swiftly, but not too swift.

He really didn't go too fast, as he had promised. But after a few minutes, she wouldn't have minded, growing accustomed to the feeling to sit on the motorcycle. She felt so small on top of it but at the same time it gave her a sense of freedom.

He felt, how she relaxed into him, leaning a bit closer into his back and the fearfully tight embrace loosened up. She was getting comfortable he acknowledged with an amused smirk. And it was true. The initial slight fear had pushe dback at the feeling that she actually liked this. Despite the shitty weather.

So he deliberately decided to speed up a bit more. The rain was still pouring down on them. And he had to wipe his eyes, to see the road ahead, but it wasn't long until they reached the destination Dante had in mind to go first.

When they stopped, she frowned. He hadn't even asked where she lived and she had totally forgotten to tell him where to go. Did he stop to ask?

"What's wrong?" Devon inquired hesitantly.

As if he had read her mind. "You didn't tell me where to go, so I decided for myself." He grinned, motioning his gloved hand at the pizza joint they parked in front of.

She got off the bike quickly as possible, feeling uncomfortable again under his scrutinizing gaze. "No thanks. I really am grateful, but I need to go. Sorry."

She shook her head at him. She didn't want to accompany him. And she didn't want him to see her in the cold neon lights of the shop. She always looked as miserable as she felt. And somehow, she felt embarrassment at the thought of eating with him.

In that moment she felt more ashamed of herself than ever in the past years. It rendered her speechless.

"Don't worry. My treat." He replied nonchalantly as he dismounted the motorcycle and went towards the door, ignoring her fidgety behavior.

But she took a step back. And another. Her scared eyes fixed on him as he turned to find out what was the matter all of a sudden.

She wiped the raindrops from her face and shook her head.

Her clothes were wet. She was freezing to the bone. Her boots quenched at every step she took and it felt like she was sloshing through mud. But all that, she didn't mind it any longer. All she wanted was to just get away from him as fast as possible.

She wasn't prepared for so much kindness, she wouldn't let this worm into her unsteady being as it was. It hurt. A lot. She could deal with cold and wretched, but not with his the genuinely worried expression he suddenly gave her.

Dante frowned deeply, as he saw her face for real in the light from the shop. Then and there, it hit. He had met her before. It hit him like a stroke of lightning. He recognized the face, though it had changed quite a bit. She had lost weight since that time.

Dante not so much observed it on purpose, but being wary and focussed most of the time, paying attention to the smallest of details, simply came with his not so human side.

It had been a rainy day, of course. He remembered the paper bag, drenched on the pavement and all the cans that had clattered to the ground. Her small hands trying to pick them all up and failing. And her face, that had given him a thankful smile after he had helped her carry them.

He remembered her clearly now. The lost soul from before and why he had stopped to help her. Because this actually hadn't been the first time he had laid eyes on her, not the second. It all came back. The haunting empty eyes of human he didn't care about.

But now she seemed a mere shadow of that former self, thin and dirty. What had happened? Dante's train of thought abruptly halted, when he heard her speak, telling him she needed to go.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, turned and sprinted off into the night. Just like that.

Dante stood there dumbfounded. .Hell.

Strange girl. Where did she think she was going? Did she already live around here?

He had the urge to follow after her, but to what end? He wouldn't turn creepy and chase a random kid around the city. Might mean more trouble than it would eventually be worth it.

He was to old for this shit. So all he did was shrug at the odd behaviour and go inside. He would order take out and bring it home with him. At least there it would be appreciated. Not so much by Vergil maybe, but by Nero all the more.