Hello. I haven't written for this fic in a while. One reason is because I didn't get any reviews. Come on guys, was it really that bad? Oh well. Anyway, I like and so I'm going to continue writing it.
Enjoy (tough crowd)
Chapter 2
Morgan shook her dark hair out of her helmet and ran her fingers through it. Still fuming she nearly kicked the door to her spacious studio apartment. Throwing the helmet on the floor, she walked to her room leaving a trail of clothes behind her and headed straight for the shower.
The nerve of that bastard!
She shuddered at thoughts that came unbidden to her mind.
She turned on the shower nozzle and stepped in. As she allowed the piping hot water to wash over her she lathered her body and for the hundredth time, she tried to wash away the memories of what Nukem had done to her. Although the water was scalding, her body was ice cold with helpless rage.
The Doomsday clan had taken her in when her mother had been killed. She would have died had it not been for them. However, just recently she learned that she'd never had a choice in the matter. Doomsday owned her soul, and therefore her body as well.
She had been trained to kill ever since as their own personal puppet. Doomsday offered a kind of protection that the rest of the cold world could not for a pretty young girl.
Tender age of 17. The age most kids would have been going to college or hanging out with friends. Morgan, prodigy of Doomsday had been trained rigorously in all educational subjects. A perfect weapon would need an extensive supply of knowledge about all subjects, from math to technology. She was a master fighter too. Knew over one hundred and five ways to kill a man with just the use of her body. That didn't include her demon powers.
In secret she'd trained the powers of her father to their peak. Lorn had been a powerful demon with god-like powers. One of his most potent attacks Red Blaze, could kill humans and immortals alike. Morgan had mastered even this technique.
Yet none of this helped the day Duke Nukem raped her.
She shook the thought out of her head and stepped out of the shower.
She'd be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of occupying her thoughts. As she passed her room the clock said 10:30. Right now, more than anything she needed sleep. But she was gonna have to get information on Sloreth's location. That meant The Night Life was gonna be the spot tonight.
She put on a pair of dark jeans and a black tank top with a silver horse on it. Around her waist was a wide black belt. While it was a great fashion statement, it also had its practical uses. She comfortably stuck her daggers in their places. With a quick tousle of her thick black hair, she took a glance at the mirror, winked for vanity's sake, and headed out the door.
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Dante ran his hands through his hair, and walked into Trish's bar that she halfway owned. The other half was owned by her friend Owen. Dark haired and dark eyed, Owen was also a mixture of demon and human. His powers. Unknown. Word on the street was he never fought with weapons. Let's just say that he didn't need a bouncer for the club.
Dante spotted Owen. Owen's hair was in a short curly ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore some dirty jeans and a black T-shirt. The man, much like Dante was a friggin chick magnet. Owen looked Dante up and down with a smirk on his face.
"Well, well, well," he drawled deliberately, "the freaks really do come out at night."
Dante laughed. "Yeah, bro. You've been practicin that one in the mirror a lot haven't ya."
Owen clapped Dante's hand with his own twice and pulled back. He went back to polishing the shot glass.
"So Dante, what you doin out this late. Ain't it past your bedtime?"
Dante, momentarily preoccupied with a strippers heel in his face, nodded absently.
"Yo! Dante!" Owen laughed.
"Oh, I'm just enjoyin the scenery. Any demons need killin you heard of?" He asked the last question with a hint of childlike wishfulness.
"Nope," Owen smirked, "You really need a hobby. Take up quilting."
Dante gave him the finger and turned his attention back to the stipper.
"I wouldn't retire just yet Sparda." Trish walked in from the behind the bar.
Since that story with Mundus, Trish had changed quite a lot. She'd cut her super long hair into a trendy bob that framed her face. The back was flipped up. She still wore her black tube and leather pants ensemble, however. Virtually no make-up graced her face, but she was just as pretty.
"Howdy, babe. Why are you still here with this bozo?" He looked Owen up and down with mock disgust.
Owen good naturedly rolled his eyes.
"What's up Dante." Trish hugged him across the bar.
"Dante's looking for a gig, Trish. Please give em something. He looks like the kid on the back of the milk carton." Owen's perpetual smirk was still in place.
Dante flipped him again. "Man, my middle finger is just not working tonight. Shit. Anyway, Trish you hear of anything going down lately."
Trish's earlier amusement from their conversation left. "As a matter of fact, Dante I have. Word on the street is that something big is goin down."
Dante eagerly rubbed his hands together. "What kinda big?" Owen and Trish exchanged glances at his obvious excitement. "Demon kinda big, Sparda. As in Mundus was horseshit compared to this one, kinda big." Trish had the straight face. This was serious.
Dante let that sink in for a second. "Where the hell did this come from? It just popped up out of the blue?" Dante questioned Trish extensively.
"I don't know, all I know is tha-…" Trish was cut off in midsentence.
Morgan who had just stepped in a few minutes ago overheard Trish talking. Beside her she saw Owens darker face. Not far off from the pair, she spotted Sparda.
Morgan walked over to the group unnoticed by Dante. Her keen ears picked up on the conversation and she smoothly interjected as Trish was about to mention Doomsday.
"I'm on this on this one Sparda. So you can just stay out of my way." Morgan looked at Dante mentally challenging him to say something.
Dante looked at her. She was just like he'd remembered her. Gorgeous, dangerous and of course, a wiseass.
"Well somebody hit me over the head with a bottle. It's the bitch of Doomsday." Dante glared at her. Morgan glared right back. Tension between the two could have broken the bar glasses.
"Hey Morgan," Trish and Owen greeted simultaneously. She smiled and nodded at them. Dante wondered why she was so nice to everybody else, and such a bitch to him.
"Doomsday finally let you off the leash eh?" Dante's smirk got particularly nasty. "Always lettin the whore, do their dirty work. Oh and by the way, how's Duke been. He's probably kept you busy for a long-"
Morgan's fist connected with Dante's face at record speed. He flew back at the bar from the force of the swing.
"I knew I shouldn't come here. They had the nerve to tell me I needed your help. You don't know a damn thing about me so don't assume you do! Fuck you Dante! No better yet go fuck yourself the way you've been doing for the last SIX YEARS!" she pushed past him hard.
"Trish, I'll call you with the details." And with that, she stormed out of the club. Dante got up rubbing his jaw.
"Ya know Dante, you've really got a way with women," Owen laughed.
"Now really ain't the fuckin time, pretty boy." Dante gritted out. Owen shook his head. Trish looked at Dante. "Ya know you really should go after her, Dante." Trish passed him a glass of scotch.
"Don't hold your breath," he muttered and walked out.
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Well it's a reunion for everybody's favorite demon hunter a woman from his past. Why don't they get along…
All will be revealed in the next chapters.
