Chapter 3
WARNINGS: Hm… this chapter has a little nudity (very little, sadly, but D is not easy to undress, jiji), a rape scene (more or less), some violence, and spoilers from the novels.
As always D, Lefty and the Frontier belong to master Hideyuki Kikuchi. Dante and Vergil belong to Capcom. If they were mine, well, jeje, D would use less clothing and a MOE crowd would constantly persecute him.
A great flame follows a little spark.
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy
"There goes his first kiss" –thought the carbuncle from the safety of his retracted body, but still capable of looking everything that transpired. If it did not do something soon D. would lose more than his first kiss… but what to do? It didn't have strength left to kill Cronos, and its caution shouted not to do something unless its actions really bare results.
Cronos took off D.'s pants, and the parasite did not know whether to laugh or be indignant. No one had ever seen D. naked, and it almost lamented to be incapable of seeing the face his host would have put before this. The alleged dhampir had cut arms for pettier insults.
Cronos grabbed D. by the ankles and brusquely split apart his legs. He lifted up his slim hips a little with both hands, and the moment the carbuncle saw the tip of his sex pushing between D.'s legs, it decided that precaution and its cousin could go to outer space.
- What the?
Taking possession of the dhampir's arm, the carbuncle went for Cronos' neck and gripped for all it was worth. The surprised Hunter held the pale wrist of his attacker and both of them struggled fiercely.
Just a little more and the parasite would have a suffocated werewolf hunter in its grasp, but it never saw how Cronos got a dagger. It cursed when it felt the blade going through D.'s wrist, barely bleeding. The werewolf hunter took advantage of the momentum and plunged dagger and flesh into the mattress, grabbing the dhampir by the neck and pushing him against the bed.
The Hunter breathed hard, his angry eyes looked upon the unconscious face of the dhampir, trying to understand what had transpired here.
"But he is in a coma!" –he thought frustrated and still asphyxiating D., until he realized this and let go. He looked D.'s left hand cautiously and then twisted the dagger into the flesh.
There was no reaction, not even a temblor on those eyelids… had he been careless? After all he was talking about Vampire Hunter D.
The door opened suddenly.
- Ups! –was all Dante offered in regard of this scene. "A nude dude, another sleeping (also nude) dude in the bed, a dagger, and blood… hm". Something in that combination was definitely wrong, and, as he was a man of principles and action, he enlisted himself in the side of the defenseless and hit Cronos right dead on the face with just a little of his demonic might.
The werewolf hunter was thrown effortlessly to the other side of the room and landed unconscious on the floor (and not in a flattering position). Dante adjusted his glove with a confident smile on his attractive face and approached the bed, but his pale eyes opened as they had never done it before when he saw that fantastic being exposed in all his naked glory before him, posed as if the dhampir were offering himself.
- Wow –the infamous son of Sparda was at a loss of words (a miracle by itself), so he concentrated in closing his mouth and restarting his brain. "Oh, he has a dagger in the wrist, genius" –he reproached himself, but at the same time he was surprised by the little amount and sluggish fluency of the blood. It was then that his stunned mind placed, at last, the presence which had made him forgot his stomach needs.
This man, or creature, was clearly not a human.
- Wow –he exclaimed again, this time with a curious smile in his lips. Maybe this future wasn't so bad after all. Moments like this didn't occur often, and not even Dante knew what to do. "Trish would cover him, yeah…" –he said to himself, not without smiling after imagining said stunning blond girl admiring the absolutely beautiful guy in the bed and just covering him after being satisfied with the view.
They were demons, what could he say? Dante shrugged to himself and got closer to the bed; he retrieved the dagger and tossed it around, then he took a blanket from the other bed and covered the dhampir. Sitting in the mattress, he checked the injury, but his professional coolness was crumbled when he felt that oh so soft skin.
He stopped blaming the hurried would-be-rapist, and turned his attention to that gorgeous face of pure white framed in lustrous blackness… "What is he?" –Dante asked himself, without releasing the injured hand. He looked younger than him, around 20 or 24 tops, but the infamous son of Sparda knew better than to trust looks alone.
- Earth calling to stranger –Dante turned around like lightning, and the carbuncle felt a cold sweat drop running down the temple it haven't when the cold metal of a gun was pressed against its skin.
- What's there? –asked the demon hunter, as unworried as seconds ago; his voice seemed incapable of loosing that arrogant and almost casual hue.
- "What"? That's rude, son of Sparda.
Hm, ok, that had surprised him… just a little. Without releasing his finger on the trigger of Evony, Dante spoke again:
- Do you read minds? Come were I can see you, but I'm warning you: no funny business.
To his escalating surprise, D.'s left hand turned around to face him… and there was a tiny face on it. "He had to have some flaw" –thought the demon hunter, shrugging miserably, which made the carbuncle frown offended.
- Hey! I have feelings, you know? –it complained, but that rusted and derisive voice told miles away from the opposite–. But lets skip to the introduction part –it continued speaking as if they were chatting in a bar–: I'm the left hand of the dude you just saved, nice to meet you; and I give to you my gratitude since my host is too comatose to do it himself.
- You are a parasite –told him Dante, all calmness–. ¿Demonic, spiritual? –he inquired, raising a gray eyebrow.
- I'm a special type –said the proud carbuncle–. But I'm not an unwanted guest, if that's what you are thinking. We have a society of sorts.
- And boy you talk too much –said Dante, remembering a certain pair of talking swords in the walls of his office. He couldn't imagine to live with a talking hand… he would chop it off 3 days after, tops.
- C'mon, I don't have the chance with this guy –grumbled the hand, its little black eyes tossing to D.'s face direction–. You have no idea how boring it can get living with him, the horse is more expressive.
- And "he" is…?
- Oh, I forgot you are not from this time. Ok, "he" is the most famous, feared and grumpy of the Vampire Hunters of this era; and, I'm just phrasing him, you can call him "D." –it said, imitating the emotionless tone of the dhampir and, apparently, enjoying it.
- "D."? That's a letter not a name.
- Ask him yourself, but I think it's just a product of his infinite denial or of his minuscule imagination, pick your favorite.
The son of Sparda looked again at the unconscious Vampire Hunter; his thin lips were slightly apart, and it was the maximum test ever infringed to his self-restraint by the gods not to get closer and cover them with his. The creature was simply astonishing, elegant, so exquisitely crafted that it seemed impossible to be right there watching him, and not be punished by the audacity. The fact that it was clearly a male didn't bothered Dante is he knew it should have.
But what was something as trivial as gender in the face of Perfection?
- And is he some kind of succubus in disguise? – Dante wanted to know, just in case he were melting like butter on waffles for some kind of demon (wouldn't that be ironic?).
- Nah, he is just too good looking, don't feel bad for your inadequate blood flow right now, it's perfectly normal around this fella. There was this one time when a sociopath old man wanted to keep his head in formol, and that was one of the sane ones. Not even computers are spared.
- Right… –murmured Dante, regretting the clear mental picture those words had evoked–. So, what you say your partner is?
- Hm, would you feel better if I tell you he is a dhampir? –the carbuncle didn't want to say more to that, but it also didn't want to lie to this clever, and obviously powerful, half-demon. Reluctantly it remembered one of the few occasions when D. exteriorized the unfathomable sadness that corroded him like a cancer…
What I´m I…?
Not even the ancient carbuncle could answer him, and anyone who would had seen him that time would had parted with a broken hearth. Maybe not even his father knew what he had created, like a crazy god in a fit. An after that Dracula had simply left him go the world, alone, to test him like the specimen he was.
- A dhampir? The son of a vampire and a human? –Dante had heard of those about a year ago; and for what he had seen the people hated them with a passion, as they hated everything concerning to vampires.
- Do you want his measurements?
- I will cut you and throw you into a cave full of starving dragons, how do you fashion that?
- You talk like him –said the happy carbuncle–. I smell a great friendship.
- Right…
- And as my first token of friendship, I will give you a tip: this guy always pays his debts; if you help him, he could make use of his many resources to help you to return to your own time –the parasite temped him, and Dante had to admit it was indeed a tempting offer (and it was not for the benefit of staying more time around the most grand beauty he had laid eyes upon). This was the first time in two years that he glimpsed at some sort hope to accomplish his goal.
- And what are these resources you speak of? –teased Dante, crossing over a leg with all his arrogance. They only lacked the drinks (and two naked guys less) to make that a business meeting.
- It is wrong for me to say this –the carbuncle played its mysterious card, but since it was coming out of the talking appendage of a dhampir, it worked fairly well–. It happens to be that my partner is the most beloved child of a certain grand personage, do you follow?
- Cut the crap –said Dante calmly, but smiling dangerously.
- Oh, fine, you win –conceded the hand–. He is the son of Dracula, but never ever said that aloud again if you don't want all Hell to break loose.
Dante refused to say that aloud, it was against his coolness. But seriously; the son of Dracula? THE Dracula? Even worst, there was a real Dracula?
A bright ray of light, single illuminating him, would have been suitable for the moment. Now he understood the "D." But what exactly he had to say in that? Was he not the infamous son of the Dark Knight Sparda, rebel of Hell and savior of mankind? At least his old man (demon) didn't appear in any classic book, THAT would have been embarrassing. Dante laughed to himself, thinking in returning with Trish and say to her that he had decided to abbreviate his name to just "D." It wasn't fun anymore hearing his clients saying, "oh, it's Dante, and you hunt demons?"
Their parents had had a strange sense of humor. "Dante and Vergil", it was lucky they hadn't had a sister, or they would have completed the starring trio of the Divine Comedy.
- You know? –said the carbuncle, raising a crease that passed for an eyebrow–. This sure proves you are not from around here; any other person, O.S.B. or monster would have gone crazy at hearing that piece of info.
- Oh, please –answered Dante, without a bit of anxiety–. I haven't yet met any celebrity that is really as great as his name. And what's so terrible about this guy anyway, isn't he just a fancy vampire?
- Nop, He is the Sacred Ancestor of the vampire species, the one who submitted mankind to ten thousand years of slavery. And you will be incapable of finding a more terrifying enemy. If He decides for you to suffer, not even Death will spare you the horrors He can conceive to torture you forever… I would do anything if somebody could convince our friend here to desist of the idea of slaying his father… –the hand lamented, bending over in distress. For it to not have a body of its own, it sure managed to be very expressive.
- No kidding –Dante sounded unimpressed nonetheless–. So, his mother was human, eh? –he commented pensively, seeing that they had more in common than his initials.
- Yap, he also has a twin brother, ring a bell?
- Really? –it was actually funny, and Dante couldn't help but to say –: And is he out there causing random havoc and misleading his little brother?
- No, he is VERY dead.
- Oh, and that's good or bad? –Dante could not imagine seeing another being identical to D. It seemed wrong somehow…
- I guess it is good… –answered the chatty carbuncle, thoughtful–. But I can say that this guy wasn't happy when he had to kill him, even if he was a little bat-shit-crazy.
- Well, having to beat the crap out of your stupid twin is always an ugly business.
"That's sneaky terrain" –thought the parasite after seeing the warm completely leaving those glacial eyes after pronouncing the deceptively casual words.
Dante made a suddenly move. The carbuncle could just see Cronos falling down again to the ground (and in another bad position). Dante rearranged himself into a most comfortable position, undaunted by the powerful werewolf hunter, and said:
- Fine, so what's the problem with Sleeping Beauty and how I fix it?
There was an amusing idea –thought Dante–. Could he wake D. up if he started kissing him like crazy?
- That's easy enough –said the carbuncle, relieved to see that Dante was willing to help. It was probably because he thought himself capable to kill D. if that turned out to be a trap… it smiled scornfully. "It would be interesting to see him trying"–. You just have to get us some earth, water, start a good fire and this guy will be ready to return to his boring, solitary and miserable imitation of life.
- My god, he sounds like the soul of the party! –said Dante, all sarcasm.
- You have no idea –the carbuncle whinnied–. His concept of fun is to ask for room service and make noise when he walks. You are not going to notice when is awake.
Dante raised both eyebrows before this statement. Maybe –and just maybe–, he was about to embark in a quest with someone that –just perhaps–, was even more boring and dull than Vergil, as astonishing as that sounded.
Would he be up to the challenge?
TBC (probably)
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