Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.
The Enzo in the novel is very little like manga Enzo. The height and the name are about the only thing in common. Novel Enzo is a well-established middleman with a rep: he gives jobs to a lot of people. Manga Enzo is a punk kid who is Dante's personal agent.
I've decided, by authorial decree, that they shall be two different characters therefore, for the name Enzo is a common one in the Ferino family. So mote it be.
After this, I'm doing Luce & Ombra, Doppelganger, Artemis, Nightmare Gamma and Alastor (going back and doing ones I missed). After that, SIn goes on hiatus because I'm out of characters until I manage to play one of the other games Dante appears in (I would like to do Hitoshura), or until the second novel comes out in November (about a week before my birthday!).
I'm not doing Mundus because this fic focuses on Dante's allies, the people who help them. I'm not doing a Dante-only SIn for that reason as well.
And I really should start writing.
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Enzo was trying really hard not to feel responsible.
Practically every mercenary in the city was dead, except for Tony, and To-Dante, wasn't going to stick around. Probably a good idea.
The ability of people with small gangs but a lot of money to hire extra muscle had kept people from going after them. Now a lot of shit would be going down real fast, and the dust probably wouldn't settle until a lot of mercenaries had moved in or been brought in from out of town. Which wouldn't happen real soon, not in large numbers. Mercenaries were superstitious. Look at To-Dante, and his collection of amulet thingies.
A lot of people carried rabbits feet and stuff, but Tony was the only one who weighed himself down like that. And he was the only one who had survived. Funny, huh? Made you think there was something to it.
From the rumors that were circulating… a lot of people were going to think Tony, who recently had got a rep as being bad luck, was responsible for this. The Oz Club was dead, but that wouldn't stop the suicidal being after revenge.
Ditching the name Tony and starting over was a good idea.
He doubted the thought had occurred to Dante. Tony would never think of hiding like that, and this new Dante wouldn't want to hide.
Tony had always been a little crazy. Convinced he was invincible. He'd shrug off insults, loss of status like Gilver (Vergil) had caused, because he was… sure of himself.
Dante, though… there was a manic glitter in those eyes. Someone who just didn't care because they didn't care about anything, not because they had confidence. Tony had laughed off impossible odds. Dante seemed to want them.
Tony had lasted two years, starting out as a kid. Dante… Dante had survived what had killed almost everybody in town. Enzo didn't know how much longer he would survive. He acted like a punk kid with nothing to lose, one of the ones that picked up a gun to avenge someone who'd bought in a gang war and went out in a blaze of glory.
Enzo had tried to tell himself it was none of his damn business. This was a rough business, and he should want people to forget he'd been associated with Tony. He damn well wanted people to forget he was the one who had introduced Gilver to everybody. Damn, he'd had good credentials, how was he supposed to know he was a damn evil twin? Like something out of a B movie. And there was lots more Dante wasn't telling.
Los Angeles had used to have people who… dealt with the weird things. Enzo had called them in a few times. They'd disappeared right after Gilver came to town. Enzo didn't believe in coincidences much.
It was crazy, but how else could you explain what happened? One man taking down everyone on Bobby's Cellar?
Tony could have done it, he knew.
He should be staying away from Tony, no, Dante. But damn it, the kid needed him.
So he'd walked To-Dante home from the bar where they'd gotten sloshed and Dante had told him the story. Left him there to sleep it off. He'd let Dante make him promise to get Grue's kids out of town. That wasn't in his job description, but he'd always prided himself on being the perfect informant, able to find out anything the customer wanted. A place for a couple orphans was nothing.
The girls were staying with one of his cousins now.
Thing was, this was all Dante's fault. The things, Gilver had come her looking for him. He was dangerous to be around. Everyone who had liked the kid had bit the dust except for Enzo. He'd lived on the edge enough to know when he was in deep shit.
Yet he still ended up here, in the early morning, with some cheap suitcases someone had dug up in the attic. He'd barely got any sleep, making calls to the head of the family.
Before Gilver came, Enzo had been the most respected informant (and middleman on the side) in town. Now?
He'd manage.
So here he was, swaggering up to the door of the place where Tony rented a room and banging on it.
Dante's head poked out the window. "What? Enzo?"
"In the flesh. So let me in already."
"It's too damn early in the morning."
"Let me in or I'll keep banging away and wake everybody else up. I've got an offer you can't refuse."
"Give me a sec, okay?" Dante's head disappeared.
Looking at him, it was a lot easier to remember to think of him as Dante. He seemed like a totally different person somehow. It was jarring, but Enzo didn't let it faze him.
Damn Gilver. Someone was going to put a price on his head, and if the track record of people trying to take down Tony was anything to go by… And Vergil liked killing people instead of trying to avoid it. So more people were going to die chasing after him.
Or maybe this would just end up covered up. Probably. You called in the right people, they dealt with it, and then it was over. That was how it worked.
The door slammed open and Dante pulled Enzo inside. "Whoa!"
Yesterday Dante had been a hell of a sight. All beat up. Enzo had been shocked, he'd never seen so much as a scratch on him before. Now he was back to normal. The people who… dealt with stuff had something for that, he'd heard rumors, but they went ballistic if people tried to dig around in that kind of stuff.
People would do crazy shit for an edge, Enzo knew from long experience. Maybe that was how a bounty hunter had ended up… No, he'd probably never been an ordinary bounty hunter.
Enzo wasn't going to ask anything more than what Dante had told him. What he didn't know he didn't have to inform on.
"What's with the luggage?"
"They're for you."
Dante pointed to a bag. "I've already got everything." There was a pause. "Thanks, though." And he smiled.
It was almost Tony's smile, almost totally carefree, but there was a darkness in the eyes. Somehow like that you saw in people after their first kill, while they were ashamed of it. But he hadn't killed Gil-Vergil, his brother.
That was a shock. The masked man? There had always been something creepy about him. Dante had said Nell tried to warn him, that he'd known all along something was up with the guy. Since the first time they fought, when Enzo brought him over to the bar. Something about being too fast.
Long lost evil twin, something out of a soap opera.
"You're just taking one bag?"
Dante shrugged. "I haven't got much stuff. The bag, and Rebellion, and my guitar."
"Guitar?" There was indeed an electric guitar, with a pretty classy set of amps, in a corner. "You play?"
"Sure." But he didn't seem to feel the urge to demonstrate, instead putting the guitar in a case. "I'm going to travel light."
"I'll have the stuff shipped to New York for you. You can't live out of a bag." Enzo shook his head firmly.
"Shipped to... New York? How did you know I was going there?" Dante stared at him. It seemed like the first time this conversation all his attention had been on Enzo.
"Well, since you said you were going to find someplace else to set up shop… you said you were going to be a hunter, and the ones in New York just disappeared. So…"
"My mother used to be a hunter there."
"So that's settled. My second cousin said he'd assign somebody to help you set up shop. His name is Enzo too."
"Small world." A reckless grin. "And I bet you've told him all about me."
"Hey, I am an informant." Enzo held up his hands to deflect the accusation.
"Yeah. Middleman."
At least he could still joke. "That's only a sideline." Was only a sideline.
And it looked like Dante realized it too. "Thanks."
"Hey, you have to look after your clients. That's the only way you get anywhere in this business," Enzo reminded him. "There's a lot of work for you in New York. Things are getting weird there. So helping you get set up there does the whole family a favor, not just you." Maybe the whole world.
"Family, huh?" And there was suddenly a very… ironic, wild, just plain strange look on Dante's face. And then he came back down to Earth and gave Enzo a searching look. "What about Grue's kids?"
"They're safe."
Dante grimaced and looked away.
"Look, I don't get everything that's going on, and I don't want to know, but…"
"Don't try to say it wasn't my fault."
"Hey, you didn't do anything."
"Yeah. I didn't stop him. Exactly, Enzo. You're just lucky you weren't there, or you would have ended up like them."
He didn't want to imagine it. He glanced around the room and noticed the bed was a wreck. "Hey, I always land on my feet."
"You're a weasel, not a cat," Dante informed him with a smile that was trying just a little too hard.
"I can weasel out of anything," the short, thin man said proudly. "I've got the address and your money."
"Money?" Dante brightened at the word.
"Yeah, there's a fund for weird stuff. This comes out of it." A lot of people had been contributing to it recently, trying to get somebody from out of town to come in and take care of things. But apparently things were getting tough all over, people too busy to leave their territories.
Someone had sounded Enzo out about having some mercenaries try to handle it. He'd been considering hiring Tony and Gilver, as the ones least likely for it to be a death sentence, taking the job. Ordinary mercs couldn't handle the weird shit. But then, they hadn't been ordinary.
The people who had given Gilver a lot of jobs must be quaking in their boots, hoping people wouldn't suspect them of paying him to have the demons wreck havoc. A drug party, the Oz Club… the people who had hired Enzo who had ended up hiring Gilver to look into (ended up taking out) the Oz Club were probably in a world of trouble.
Wasn't his problem.
Though if somebody wondered why he'd had the good luck to not be there that night… the fact that he'd been demoted from major player to minor middleman during Gilver's reign as most important mercenary might be his saving grace.
Had to get Tony, Dante out of town.
"I'm getting paid for letting all those guys get killed?" At first he seemed outraged, then snorted in amusement. "Least I'm getting some recognition."
"Yeah, sure." At least he took it. "When are you going to head out?"
"Today," Dante replied. "No point in staying around here." A look in his eye again… memories were here. He'd been really attached to Grue, the old man had sort of been his mentor, taught him stuff. And the old lady too.
He wasn't trying to get lost to get out of town to avoid the heat. Enzo had better be careful not to imply he was, or he might stick around just to prove everyone wrong, and that would get real nasty real fast. For one thing, people would be after the pile of cash.
"Want to go get a drink first?" Enzo offered.
"Sure." Dante picked up his bag, put the sword on his back, and then hefted the guitar. Once outside the door he locked it and tossed Enzo the keys, then picked up the guitar again.
The route to the watering hole they'd used last night took them by the wreck of Bobby's Place. There were cops there, so they made a detour at the corner. "They're saying it was a gas leak."
"But it didn't catch fire."
"It did after you left." With the help of some creative arson. Enzo hadn't been involved in that, he wasn't the kind of foot soldier you used for stuff like that. The cops were going to ignore it was arson. They didn't want this getting out either. Normally, cops and crooks were enemies (except for the dirty cops), but this was one thing where they worked together just fine.
"Hm." Dante nodded, probably guessing the real story. They got to the pub quickly, Enzo for one wanting a drink.
Dante liked strawberry sundaes too, huh? He ordered a Bloody Mary, though, instead of going straight for the stuff that would get you drunk fast. He was ticked the pub wouldn't serve him a sundae. "Hey, Enzo, want to get me a strawberry sundae?"
"No one's going to take you seriously eating those things," Enzo rolled his eyes and chided him. Both Enzo and Grue had tried to break him from those things. Enzo hated exercise and drank a lot, so he had to watch what he ate to stay skinny. If he didn't he'd never hear the end of it from his mother.
"Like I care? Go get me one." Dante gave him a push that almost slid him off the bench. "Sorry." It was like he didn't know his own strength. That was another thing that was just wrong. Tony had been really strong, sure, but he'd had control over it. Not self-control, Tony had done whatever he damn well felt like, but… control over his life. He'd done what he wanted, taken jobs that suited him even if Enzo did his best to wheedle and nag him into high-paying ones (with a good cut for Enzo).
Last night he hadn't had anything resembling a plan but get out of town. And get the girls to safety. At least getting a good sleep had helped him think. And it was just a good thing he wanted to go where Enzo wanted him to go. Things were going Enzo's way, finally. They hadn't been for a long time. Since after Gilver came to town.
Still, this wasn't exactly the Tony he'd gotten to know over the years. Tony wouldn't have hurt him. Dante… was a little more dangerous. Loose cannon kind of dangerous.
Enzo was just glad it would soon not be his job to direct that cannon. Keep him happy, get him out of town.
Tony's appearance had coincided with Enzo's rise to glory. Sad to see him go.
He'd told himself not to get attached to the kid. Mercenaries came and went. Most of them didn't live very long. Starting out at 14? He shouldn't have made it to fifteen. But here he was. Hunters weren't supposed to take merc jobs. No competition. Sort of cheating, though a lot of people offered a lot of money. Honor among thieves thing.
"Hey, get going." Dante prodded him again, more careful this time.
"I'm taking this out of your payment," Enzo grumped at him, getting up. Dante tossed him a twenty, pulled off the billroll. "Keep the change. Hey! Bar guy! Another Bloody Mary!"
He was just a kid, Enzo reflected, and all this shit happened. Made you think.
Hey, what was he thinking? A lot of shit happened to a lot of kids. Nothing unique about Tony. This was the criminal underworld, kid foot soldiers in gangs, drive-bys… But there was something unique about Tony. He'd seemed invincible, like he led a charmed life somehow. He'd always done and gotten what he wanted, supremely confident. Like one of those legendary outlaws or something, like a cowboy, one of those guys that had robbed trains and stagecoaches, the kind that became legends. Something like that.
Destined for greatness? Stupid idea, but around Tony?
Dante though, you felt it even keener, but it didn't feel like the destiny had a happy ending.
There was an ice cream parlor nearby. "For God's sake," they'd told Tony, "if you're going to eat ice cream do it there, not here!" One strawberry sundae, vanilla with strawberries on top. Enzo personally despised vanilla. Too sweet. Chocolate, now, was probably just as sugary but you didn't taste it.
When Enzo got back there was a can of beer sitting a ways away from Dante. He downed it, thinking it had been bought and opened for him. "Faugh! This stuff's almost as bad as the swill Grue drank!"
"Yeah. Almost." Dante stared glumly into the Bloody Mary. Enzo slid him the sundae to cheer him up. "Thanks," Dante said, and tucked in.
"You'd better thank me," Enzo muttered.
Dante waved his spoon at him. "Yeah, sure."
Enzo ordered himself a decent drink and watched To-Dante eat. There he was forgetting the new name again. Eyes down and eating ice cream, it was so Tony. Except he'd ditched the jewelry so there wasn't all that clinking. Just one big thing, it looked like, tucked under his coat. The coat too looked a lot better than it had last night.
Soon to be none of Enzo's business, he reminded himself.
Dante ate in silence, and when he finished tossed the cup behind him, where it made a perfect landing in the trash without even looking. That was Tony too…
His instincts told him Dante was a very different animal than Tony. Like the difference between… he didn't know. Except Tony had been happy and Dante was clearly anything but. Tony had known what he was doing, Dante was, well, now he was less adrift, but when he got there would he just be going through the motions?
People were going to expect him to kill demons now, and going up against even humans without being focused on the job and wanting to live was suicide. Was he arranging not a new life for the guy but his death?
He kind of had the feeling, he'd seen guys like that before, that Dante wanted to die. Guilt, all these things that hadn't touched Tony. Tony had loved being alive. Tony had been, Enzo realized it now, playing with all of them. All the jobs had been so easy for him, and he'd had Grue's advice to make him back out of the ones that would have been death for a normal man and possibly difficult for Tony.
A lot of people had died last night. The guy who had walked out of that fire after the old lady, Nell, died, hadn't been Tony. Phoenix rising from the ashes? Sounded stupidly poetic…
"What the hell's going on in there?" Dante asked.
"What?" Enzo blinked, waking up from his thoughts.
"You were staring at me."
"Sorry," Enzo smiled slightly foolishly.
"Look, I'm sorry, I know I'm hot, but I'm not into guys more than twice my age." Tony was grinning.
Enzo sputtered. "Tony, you!"
"It's Dante," Dante reminded Enzo, and the moment was lost.
Only Tony would have dared imply somebody was gay. For a moment there… Enzo shook his head. "Dante, right."
"You're getting soft in the head, old man. You'll forget where you left your head next. Won't be a great loss." The smile had an edge to it, a razor sharp one, as though Dante was… acting? Acting like his old self.
What exactly had happened to him? Had just finding his brother… had they talked, what had caused this huge change? "You just wait. You've already got white hair."
"I'll never be as old as you." Meant to be a joke, but was it? Man.
"Don't joke about that, To-Dante."
"I'm going to go out in a blaze of glory," same smile. "Just watch me."
"You watch your own back," Enzo asked him. "Grue and the old lady would want it that way."
And the smile left, replaced with seriousness. "I know." His hand reached for a gun, touched it like a talisman. "You watch your back too, Enzo."
"Hey, I'm just an informant. I'm too valuable to kill," Enzo assured him. "Not like you guys. I stay back where it's safe."
Dante laughed. "Nowhere's safe."
Enzo laughed nervously. "Whatever. You'd better get going. Here's the guy to get in contact with," he handed him a piece of paper, "and here's my number. Call when you've got someplace to ship your stuff to. I don't want to pay for a storage place or keep that junk in my house, so you find someplace damn quick, okay?"
Dante shrugged. "Sure." He pocketed the notes and handed Enzo more money. "For the shipping," he explained.
Enzo counted it. "Should be enough."
Dante got up and Enzo stood as well. "Bye, Enzo," Dante said.
"You take care of yourself. I told my family you were a tough guy, and informants always tell the truth. If you die and show you're a weakling, I'll look stupid, you hear?" Enzo gave him the puppy dog eyes.
"Not that face! You irritate the hell out of me, Enzo." But Dante's eyes were laughing. "Sure, we can't have you lose your rep as the best middleman in town."
"Informant," Enzo corrected him, one last time. "Give 'em hell, Dante." He clapped him on the back.
Dante picked up his bag and guitar, then turned and nodded. "I will, Enzo." He saluted (with the hand holding the guitar, it somehow managed to look cool instead of stupid), and was off.
