I turn 18 the fifteenth. I'm depressed because of my family. The girl who I thought loved me doesn't seem to anymore, but I still love her. I want to watch Tiger and Bunny. Let's see what I can do to Dante and Nero to make myself feel better.
.:Uraomote Rabaazu:.
It had been nearly a week since Nero's birthday. And it would have been a lie to say anything had changed.
The younger hunter was stretched out on the couch in the Devil May Cry, rather enjoying the nap he was getting. Thankfully, it had been a slow day. The phone hadn't rang yet and it was drifting later into the afternoon.
While Nero was napping, Dante was growing frustrated. Yes, he had been playing nice. But, that was what annoyed him. Since that first kiss, he hadn't laid a hand on Nero. And why? Because Nero was happy with how things were.
Which pissed Dante off, really. Not to mention his inner demon was constantly snarling at him. And really, that did nothing to improve his mood.
So he sat at his desk, brooding as he watched the younger hunter sleep.
Still, as annoyed with Nero as he may have been, he couldn't deny the smile that crept onto his face as he caught sight of the key he'd given Nero. The boy had insisted on putting it on a chain and wearing it around his neck. He never let it out of his sight.
There was some comfort in that.
But not enough to cool his darker side. The feelings tearing through that side of him caused a shiver to prickle across his skin. The feral instincts begging him to give in were driving him mad and he was almost ready to put a bullet through his brain to silence them. Because, really, there was only so much he could take. So many raw emotions grating on his already frayed nerves.
So, he wasn't sure what possessed him to get up and walk over to the sleeping boy on his couch. He wasn't sure what possessed him to kneel at the boy's side. Wasn't sure what made his hand reach out and brush his fingers over the boy's pale skin.
And he thanked whatever God was out there when the phone rang.
He sprang up quickly and was already crossing the room to his desk by the time Nero sat up, groggily rubbing his face.
"Devil May Cry."
Dante needed his mind off this. Needed out of the shop. Needed to be away from Nero.
He barely heard what the mission was when he agreed. He managed to jot down what he thought was the correct address before snatching up his equipment, locking Ebony and Ivory in their holsters. He took Rebellion in hand before crossing to the door, where he put down the broadsword and slid on his coat. Rebellion locked firmly to Dante's back, he pushed open the door.
"I'll be back," he told Nero, who was just getting to his feet, "Go back to sleep."
And the elder stepped out into the sun. He exhaled softly, relieved that being away calmed his devil as well, and started down the street, trying to see if he could recall any of the conversation with the client. There had been something about a skinning, which was odd; missing ribs, which was even more strange; and a deflated heart. The hunter didn't know what to make of it really. There were only two options. A killer with some sick fetish, or a demon.
A demon with a taste for humans. To be honest, Dante didn't know which he would have preferred at the moment. Sure, a fight would get out his frustration, but a human would have meant he could slide the case along to the authorities and get back to Nero.
He really was at war with himself.
But, really, it wasn't all that surprising. He had always been at war with himself. For as long as he could remember. It wasn't easy being a half-demon after all. Even harder being the son of the famed Sparda.
He did his best to push these thoughts from his mind as he drew nearer to the job site. This was no time to be lost within loathing and confusion. He had a job to do. If nothing else, he needed to keep the world safe for that stupid punk sleeping on his couch and clouding his thoughts.
(*)
All thoughts of that same punk were gone when Dante go to the location of the murder. To be honest, he hadn't been expecting what greeted him. The warehouse the victim was found in reeked of blood and Dante could smell the underlying stench of demon, that scent that seemed to plague him constantly more and more often than not.
The body itself shocked Dante more, however. He had heard of demons who feasted on humans before, but he'd never seen the remnants of the meal.
The red-clad hunter simply stared down at the body of a man, taking in the damage. Part of the man's throat was ripped out in a crescent shape, skin shredded from blunt teeth. The man's shirt was ripped in half, his chest exposed. Or what was left of it. A poorly shaped rectangle was missed from his skin, where his heart had been, exposing the cracked and broken ribs to the air. And the empty cavity that had housed his life.
The hunter had seen things more gruesome, yes, but still had to take a step back from what he saw, the scent of old blood washing over his senses, threatening to drown him. His devil began to claw at his insides, growing restless. He was starting to lose the shred of control he had over the beast when a voice spoke.
"There you are," the feminine voice giggled, "I wondered when you'd get here."
He managed to catch sight of the girl as she moved and sat herself right on the body, the broken ribs cracking in protest to her weight. She had startled the hunter. That made his demon rip at him harder.
Her looks disturbed him though.
Her white hair. The red eyes. It was obvious she wasn't human. Horns stood through her hair, black and sharp. There was a mask hanging off one, one eye hole punched out to dangle comfortably. She wore a frilled white shirt and black corset with red trim and a black pleated skirt, black boots reaching towards her knees.
The wings caught him off guard, small little things hanging mid-spin, and the tail, pure black.
"Am I to assume you did this?" Dante asked. And she laughed, a high sound like bells.
"Of course not," she said, examining her red nails, "It was my brother. He always leaves his mess behind for me to clean up."
She sprung to her feet then, and stood with her legs crossed as she bent towards him, her fingers folded under her chin. To anyone else at another time, it would have been seen as "cute". But not to Dante. Not now. Especially when he could see that tail flicking behind her in amusement.
"You're a hunter, huh? Oh! You must the one they called for him!" she giggled again and jumped. She flipped in the hair and hovered as if sitting, her wings fluttering madly, "How exciting! I wonder if he'll get a taste of you. I wonder how you taste."
Dante's fingers inched for his guns under his coat as she fluttered closer, looking him over, now mocking a lay in the air, analyzing him from eye-level.
"You look like us," she said, reaching out to pull a strand of his hair curiously, "I wonder why~!"
She leaned closer, closing her eyes as she sniffed, then blinked, "Oh! That's why! You just look like us. But, you aren't like us! You're a funny one! I like you!"
Dante's demon was snarling. He could feel it. And he could feel his lips curl back as the sound escaped his throat. Ebony and Ivory were unleashed from their holsters, and the girl was met with twin barrels trained between her eyes.
"Look, chick. I don't really care who you are. Hell, I barely care who I am. I want to get this done and move on."
"Right!" she giggled madly again, her eyes shining copper red for a moment, "Mathius left before you got here. I don't know where he went."
She pulled back to sit again, giggling still.
This caused Dante to lower his prized weapons in confusion. How old was she? She looked like she was about 18 or 19, but her actions….
"Hey, chick. How old are you?"
She pouted and puffed out her chest, "Older than you! Next year, I'll be a century old!"
The human to demon age relation was so large. He had forgotten it. By their terms, she was still just a baby.
"Mathius is older though. He's an old man!" she giggled again.
By this point, Dante was looking for an out. If her brother, the killer, was older than her, who knew where he was. What he could do.
And Dante had a sinking feeling that this killing had been mild.
The girl was going on about her brother and Dante didn't really pay her any attention. She didn't seem to notice.
He went to the corpse, at least closing the man's eyes.
"He ate only the heart again," she sighed, "He's so picky."
That triggered something, "Again?"
"He eats people. Their hearts at least. He doesn't like the rest of them," she sighed, folding her arms over her chest.
Then, it dawned on him.
"…. So," he started casually, "You eat humans too?"
There was only a giggle in response.