Author's note: Sorry that last chapter was so long. Compared to the original, it contained a deleted scene that would've been better off in here anyway. And if that chapter seemed a little dry of the action, don't worry…this chapter will temporarily make up for it ;o).

"Woah, man," screamed the man as the black gun was pointed towards his head, with his hands upward.

Dante stared down the man, identifying his Hispanic origins, and sense of fashion, consisting of a blue, white, and black urban harmony. Hearing him say those few words in front of him, he smirked and asked, "You're the guy on that message."

"As well as the guy you almost scared the right shit outta'," the guest cried, glancing between the barrel and its owner, "but before you ask, I'm only here to pick you up."

Dante shook his head, "On who's request?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to say," he answered, "but she'll explain it all to you once you meet up with her."

"A 'she', huh," Dante scoffed, twirling his gun back in place, "you got my attention. Now, who are you?"

"Just call me Justice," he answered, as he saw Dante pull one of his many swords from its place in the wall. He looked towards Justice and nodded, a sign that he was ready to exit with the stranger.

With Justice driving, they pierced through the night in his black SUV that ran like a dream, as if there were never a bump in the road, or a need for servicing the engine.

Impressed by its comfortable seating and performance, Dante laughed a little and playfully reviewed, "And here I am using portals and rooftops to get where I wanna'."

Justice laughed, "Please man, with the powers behind you from your pops, you don't even need a ride."

Dante paused, and stared at Justice blankly, "How do you know about that?"

"Dude, what Darkstalker doesn't," he added, "some of my family were there the day you and your brother were born. I keep hearin' the damn speech in my head. 'Behold the passage of power of father to sons, promising the start of another lineage of dark warriors of the light. These children are the sons of not just the Legendary Dark Knight and his alluring muse, but the sons of the light Itself.' They make it seem like you're the Second Coming, or somethin'."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," Dante blew off, "I'm just a man trying to keep his house in order…"

"While blowin' up someone else's just to draw a demon outta' it," he sharply brought to attention. Dante hadn't stopped his stare at him, but his face changed to further curiosity. Justice then added, "The acts of a Devil Hunter get around fast, kid. I'm one, I know that, and you should, too."

Not that fast, Dante thought. "Ever read Waiting to Exhale? That was her idea! Anyway, do you have it out for me, or what? I mean, not that I care, 'cause I'd probably win, but I'm just curious."

"No, I don't have it out for you," Justice swore, "I just don't see what the big deal is. So what if you don't flinch when a bullet grazes your nose, or you take jobs even if the money's not good. It's part commission, part charity, s'been going on before Sparda was even born. Don't act like you're the first."

"Fine, then don't act like I care about your 'two-thumbs-down' review of my style," Dante shot back, "we just met and already it seems you think I disgrace the history of hunting, period."

"No, just disgracing your father's," Justice mentioned deeply, landing him a swift elbow to his jaw, causing him to halt the car in the middle of the street. Dante's quick hand had his gun back in its grip, as the barrel now rest in the mouth of the instigator.

"Did you ever know my father personally," his now cold and razor-tipped voice asked.

Justice shook "no" as best as he could.

"Do you know a thing about me that doesn't involve third party bullshit?"

He shook "no" again.

"That's what I thought," Dante said, "never compare me to my father if you don't know shit about either of us. I may not be as spectacular as he was, but if I were to let him down, he'd tell me that in person, not entrust a message of disapproval to a sad excuse for a carrier boy."

He forced the gun out of his mouth, keeping it in his lap in case any more discrepancies occurred. Justice reached into his pocket to get a mint, since he could tell the taste of cold metal would linger.

"Now, where are we meeting this woman of yours," Dante asked nonchalantly, with a bit of the frigid darkness still in his tone.

Justice was still trying to shake off the fact that he had been that close to death, as he answered, "An old night club that got closed about a month ago. There were plans to tear it down, but that fell through 'cause construction crews were too scared to get anywhere near it."

"Why's that," he pondered.

"You'll see," he said, almost with a touch of malice.

Moments later, they arrived at the Sombra Club. It was as corroded, dank, and latent as the picture Justice painted for Dante on their way. The inside was no better, taped with police lines and littered with its own fallen debris, wrappers of a consumption or sexual nature, and a sense of deep pranic energy. When the two stepped inside, Justice continued its biography.

"Aside from the remains that were allegedly found, there were also sightings of foreign messages, poltergeist activities, and even people claiming others were sucked into portals right before their eyes. Half of those events occurred while the place was even in construction, but their increase in activity was the last the owners could take. Now it serves as training ground for up and coming slayers…or a place where experienced ones can place bets on who can last longer."

"I get it," Dante said with a smirk, "you just wanna' see me work, only without damaging your pretty face again."

Justice stared off, not willing to answer that for his life, as noises were heard around the building. High pitch cackling became more prominent as he walked further into the club, as well as a low rumbling of the surface. Nothing seemed ready to advance at the two, until Dante felt something claw his back, as the blow itself turned him around to see the spectral-like creature ready to pounce mouth first.

Once it did, Dante horizontally placed the sword in its large mouth, and position a hand on the blade, placing enough strength into the upward twisting push to swiftly snap its neck. After it fell, he stabbed and shot it once for reassurance, and to get it back for the sucker punch.

"What'd ya' think of that, so far," Dante asked, as he turned to Justice. In his place lied more of the same beasts, larger in every way possible compared to the dissipating creature.

"Good answer," he whispered sarcastically, as three assaulted him at once. He dodged all but the long and dense tail of the third, which caught him in the back of the neck after jumping over the second beast. It was then that holstered his sword, and pulled out both of his handmade guns, named according to their colors, the onyx coated Ebony, and polished steel of Ivory.

For every one that went down, two fresh warriors would join the fray, soon to meet their fates as well. He didn't even bother using his sword, seeing as that the beasts had nothing to offer but close quarters combat, and he was already well scarred by their sagitate nails. It came to the point where they began to advance more hurriedly, making this scrape more intense. He kicked, threw, and preformed other physical means that he didn't want to come to, but could not avoid now that they were becoming faster and more alert. It was then that one was ready to make a clean kill shot to his heart, when the side of its body exploded green blood, forcing it to the ground in agony.

All the creatures and Dante briefly stopped to see the savior, who was a taller and more dense dark skinned male with tinted glasses, wearing prominently black clothing with red sewing that seemed to shine in the dark. Both hands held black .357 Magnums, of which he personally named Empyrean and Tophet.

"You creatures aren't even close to half of his power," he said in his deep voice, with a semi-British accent, before laying accurate waste to each of the creatures, as they did their best to lunge towards what could've been their sustenance.

As their bodies melted away through mystic means, the living tower looked towards Dante with a face of iniquity, growing as his guns were holstered. His nails and teeth became visibly sharper, along with his eyes changing from brown to silver pupils surrounded by black, as he growled even deeper,

"Now Siva, where were we?"