The door slammed open and a man emerged. He ruffled his hair, attempting to shake the water droplets out. White-haired, muscular if lean, clad in nothing but brown pants and lace-less boots on his feet. With an annoyed groan, he took his seat behind the desk, and took to staring at the phone, expecting it to ring.

It didn't make a sound.

He kicked his feet up on the oak desk, taking time to mull over the events since he'd gotten here (to the town, not the desk). Business didn't seem to get anywhere for the past year. Apart from not having named his shop yet, whatever he could get from his informant was very little. All of the bigger hunts were disposed of, kept dying somehow. They were slaughtered, to be more obvious.

Demons came, demons went, and he was broke all of the time (he couldn't even afford leftover pizza). Someone out there was taking his kills and he was losing his chances along with them. It didn't look good on him at all. Worse, he wasn't big on the whole 'detective' thing yet, so as much as he wanted to figure all of that out, it simply wasn't his style.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing. Maybe if he waited, a lead would come up somewhere, something that could point him in the right direction. Then he would work on to bigger things, like finding the bastard that killed his mother, for example.

The double doors creaked open. He couldn't help but look a little surprised. Wow, an answer. Almost as if he'd willed it. Said answer came in the form of a young woman wearing what looked like a Catholic schoolgirl outfit. As if it couldn't get any better for this young-adult stud.

He did well to take the time to observe her as she looked around curiously. She didn't even bother looking at him first, but whatever. Huh, heavily armed… that skirt of hers was made out of ammo for those guns; nice touch, pretty creative. Oh wait, was that a rocket launcher? Nice, nice, how was she carrying that around though? Pretty lean frame, but she didn't look the type to be out hunting demons. She should be in some uppity private Catholic school, learning something new by day and having a good time by night. Maybe getting guys like him to ogle her or something, but not on purpose.

Come to think about it… she didn't belong here at all. What the hell messed her life up enough to take up arms in the first place? No big deal; he'd just have to ask. "Hey."

She turned to look at the source of the noise, and a shocked expression came up as if she'd just then taken notice of him. More like she'd seen a ghost, actually.

He eyed her up and down. "What brings you here?"

Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance at that. Without warning, she took aim with her rocket launcher.

His reflexes kicked in before his mind had even a split-second to register the assault. He didn't have to resort to anything extreme, though, simply tilt his head to the side. The bayonet from the rocket launcher sailed harmlessly past, and he could still feel the breeze from the near miss. He couldn't resist taking a look, though; she nearly caught the novelty demon fur he'd gotten months before.

"Calm down, lady. Was it something I said?" he also couldn't resist making a joke.

The young woman scowled at him. In a quick motion, she pulled the bayonet back and settled for swinging her launcher down onto the desk, possibly trying to cut him in half.

His first course of action; grab the portrait not far to his right. Second; grab a gun. Third; get the hell out of the way. He did a backflip and landed in a crouch, the portrait in his right hand and 'Ebony' (his handgun) in his left, pointed right at the woman. He wasn't really going to shoot her, but then again he wasn't aware just what he would do if anything happened to that portrait. It was important, damn it.

Even more important, was who this lady was. Okay, she's strong, she's pissed, and she wants to kill me for some reason.

He set the portrait on the ground then stood, keeping Ebony fixed on her, his finger relaxed on the trigger somewhat. He took slow steps away from the broken desk, towards the pool table. "Come on, what's your problem? I ask you a question and suddenly you wanna blow me up!"

She shot him a cross look, obviously offended at his remark. She maintained the distance between them. "I'm not falling for your little game!"

He was taken aback by that. …A game? "Listen, I'm not playing any games. I don't even know you--"

"Shut up!" she cried in retaliation.

Next thing he knew, he was three seconds away from taking a missile to the face. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the broadsword lying near the table and swung, cutting the missile in two. Some defense that was.

He tsk-tsk'ed."Didn't even let me finish!" He nearly couldn't finish that statement, as she came running at him, this time about to fire another volley at point-blank range. Well, fuck, she's crazy too. He kicked the pool table and sent it sliding, making her break her stride to get out of the way. What'd I do to deserve this? A question well asked, even if mentally. They just met and already he'd somehow without even his own knowledge, managed to ruin her day. "You're coming at me like I'm your ex boyfriend or something!"

She accused him of playing a game, and he couldn't help but think it was one. Just one twisted game of tag. She attacked him, he dodged, she missed and tried again, same thing over and over. She couldn't catch him. And meanwhile most of his stuff got destroyed in the process. The pool table, the drum set, the posters, even the demon fur on the back wall got blown up (just like he expected it to, oddly).

As if even she had gotten tired of it all, she settled for coming at him with her bayonet like before. Close range, huh? It was gonna be child's play for him, just parry. It was mandatory that he play around for a little bit, though. She swung, intent on striking at his head but he placed Rebellion in the way and their weapons clashed. Even his knees shook a little. Damn, this girl's got some bite to her.

Then whatever seriousness was there went away in an instant; he still had an urge to give her another look-see. Hmm. The girl had mismatched eyes. That was slightly weird, but he'd heard of the condition before. Hetero-something-something. It looked weird on some people, but on her it was slightly charming.

Or, it would be, if the girl wasn't using those eyes to glare daggers into him. Regardless, it was cute.

He'd already gotten the general gist of her outfit when she walked in, so the weapon was under close examination. He tilted his head slightly. There was something engraved on her rocket launcher. What was it …'Kalina Ann'? Was that the chick's name or something? He'd have to ask later, maybe when she stopped being so crazy.

A creaking sound reached his ears, but he paid little attention. Just that it was coming from above them, somewhere? It didn't matter, up until the part of the ceiling right above the desk caved in, fan and all. That caught his attention. Shit, shit, shit! Not the portrait! It was buried now, wasn't it? This is what I get for playing around!

He had taken his eyes off the girl for a split-second. He felt something force him back, and figured she noticed his apparent distraction and had pushed forward, determined to break their clash. Too bad, he didn't have the time to play with her anymore. He let up and backed away. She took the bait, raising her weapon to swing down again. He moved out of the way and the bayonet lodged itself into the wall behind him. Before she could pull free, he delivered a kick to the back of her legs and knocked her off balance.

She cursed under her breath and tried to get up— only to see him standing over her, his Rebellion pointed at her throat. She looked at him expectantly, rage seething in her eyes. "Go on, then."

But he didn't do anything. He simply averted his gaze and hoisted his sword over his shoulder. "Dunno what your problem is," he murmured, walking away from her.

---

She sat upright, a little dazed from her 'landing'. So, this wasn't the demon from before. If only she'd known that sooner… but they looked so much alike, she was sure! She gritted her teeth; annoyed with herself at such a mistake. What a waste, and for the wrong guy! Hold on, that could only mean…

When she turned to look, he was pushing away the debris, apparently searching for something. "You're… Dante, right?"

He froze, didn't bother to turn around. He stared straight ahead. "Who told you that?"

So, he's the guy I was supposed to find? She got up to her feet, just a tad annoyed at the question. "Does it matter? I need your help with something— a demon," she replied.

He pondered that for a moment. "Fine then, what is it?"

It was her turn to think. What could she tell him? The truth? Maybe, even if she mistook him for that demon, even if there was a chance they could very well be related… "I need help finding your brother—"

Uh-uh, wrong answer. She got a gun pointed at her for that one.

"Bullshit," he intoned; his voice gravelly. "He's dead. Need help finding him? He's six feet deep somewhere. Good luck."

Maybe he meant what he said, or maybe he doubted it, but she wasn't going to find out which it was. Yet it was still the truth to her, so she continued. "Dead or not, I saw him. He— " No, to tell what he'd done would be too much. It was best to skip to the message. "He wants you to 'accept the invitation'."

"Invitation, huh? Well that's nice," he said dryly. He continued his search for… whatever it was. He had to speak his mind, though. "He's been dead for years, and his idea of an invitation is to send me some crazy chick to blow the hell out of me—no offense," he added with a sideward glance.

"No offense taken." Her voice was just dripping with sarcasm. She was not 'some crazy chick', and she could prove it by driving a bullet to the back of his head where he sat, or rather, crouched. It certainly felt right. It was her vengeance; now suddenly she had the devil she was trying to kill telling her to drag some guy along for the ride! What for, and what the hell was this guy looking for anyway?

---

He finally found it, but the glass was cracked. At least the picture beneath was still intact, but he'd have to buy a new frame. Damn that crazy girl. "So," he said, setting the portrait aside (at least it could still stand) "dear ol' bro couldn't just say 'Hi' to me directly?" For this he turned fully around to face her, maybe to see her reaction (if she had one).

"Obviously not." she looked away.

"Well, that's too bad. Invitation to what, anyway?"

"I don't know."

"…Got any idea where he is?" By this time he was slipping on his coat and putting his guns in their respective holsters. Come on, she had to know the answer to this question.

"No. I don't know where he is. Like I said, I've been looking for him too."

"Really?" That was something. "What'd he do to you?"

"It's a family matter, and it's none of your business," she snapped.

Wow. Didn't expect that reaction. "So, what, you're tellin' me that he sent you here just to drag me into your problem? What the hell…" This was just a tad confusing.

It's not like she was going to admit that was exactly what she was thinking, but her eye twitched just a little. "Well if you're not going to come with me, then don't," she said, picking up Kalina Ann where it lay. "I can handle this myself." With that, she took her leave.

"Wait just a fuckin' minute—" There was no way she would get away calling him on something, wrecking his office and then just leaving. And he still didn't know what her problem was (with him or his brother, actually). Family matter? What, did his suddenly-alive twin owe her dad money or something and she's there to collect? Granted, that idea was over-the-top, but knowing his luck, it was probably something that stupid.

Knowing his other kind of luck, it was even more likely to be something really dangerous. Just the way he liked it. But no way could she think she was enough to take Vergil on. He'd beaten her easily. Vergil would just decimate her, if the two were anything alike (if at all) after all these years. Even then, only if she was being serious about the whole thing— a part of him couldn't help but think it was a practical joke. That, and maybe the girl was just insane and making it up.

It seemed sudden, yeah, but he was just going to have to follow her lead. Make some sense of this situation. Make sure she didn't get herself killed, above everything. After all, it'd be a shame if she ended up as just a pretty stain.