-The Explosion Site-
Dante felt a falling sensation. The unending torture had somehow stopped but he couldn't figure out where he was.
He couldn't see well, his eyes had been burnt badly and almost seared shut.
He continued to fall, and as he went, he thought to himself 'so, let's review. How did this happen?'
He continued to feel pulled. Wind rustled past his silver locks, turned a dreary gray color.
'Oh right, I fought that weird ninja; man he's strong. Let's see here . . . I was doing okay, then he did some crazy redirection and I got screwed up.' he thought.
'He broke about every bone I have. Then he blew me up with the ninja equivalent of an atomic bomb . . . he summoned from his hands . . . why do I always get the weird ones?' he continued.
His line of thinking led to an epiphany.
Was he dead?
Had he been killed and falling down to hell already? He was facing upwards, he knew this from the feeling of air passing by.
The raggedy remains of his clothes were constantly thrusting in the opposite direction he was going.
So he twisted himself around mid-flight to see where he was going.
'Hmm . . . Oh, there's the ground.'
He crashed down into the remains of a car.
Dante bounced off the destroyed vehicle and was sent flying back up at least fifty feet.
Then, he landed again almost perfectly parallel to the automobile several feet to the right.
The cooled, thick layers of ash caking the earth did not soften the impact, the ground cracking underneath him.
He lay with his face and chest buried, motionless for several minutes. Snowy soot covered his whole body as it continued to fall, and he fell unconscious.
There was no way to tell what went on as he slept.
The nap must have been for a little while, at least long enough for a few inches of ash to fall. It couldn't have been more than an hour.
When he awoke, things weren't much better.
He weakly pushed himself up off the ground and onto his back with his left arm, working actively against the layers on top of him till he reached the surface.
After that, he just breathed in a massive quantity of air.
He was glad that he was alive, at least. The oxygen whisked through his entire body, and he could feel it making it's way through him. Each breath felt like a gift.
The man couldn't hear anything but looked around.
In so doing, he noticed that there really wasn't much to listen to anymore.
The entire area had been devastated, and as Dante's nose grew back, he could smell burning gasoline and charred metal.
He also felt something was wrong.
Missing from his body, his right arm had been blown off altogether, leaving only a burnt, jagged bone spike.
His facial features had largely been destroyed but were beginning to repair themselves. Sinew, tendons and nerves began to grow back over his blackened skull.
The man tried to stand but found that his legs had become malformed and broken beyond use.
Yet through all this physical pain and the inconveniences, only one thought resonated in his mind.
'Why did I bounce?' he wondered.
-Earlier- at the Hospital.
Tina was sitting in reception. She'd been hyperventilating but calmed down once her morphine kicked in.
She showed incredible lucidity, enough that it prompted the doctor to decide against her staying inside a hospital room.
As the wrestler waited for a verdict on her father, she became shocked when she realized she saw Kasumi at the registration window with a tall, muscular man.
'No, that can't be her.' she thought to herself.
As she looked on, an altercation quickly ensued. The woman kept her head down and shifted back further into the chair, wanting to shrink down as much as possible. She did not continue to observe.
Tina waited until both were gone. She looked up to see them leave without noticing her and a fearful receptionist running off to talk to her superiors.
She snapped back to reality.
Trying to focus on what was important, she figured out why things had gone so badly.
She meets one guy and he nearly kills her dad. Not to mention it was at her own request. What's that gonna look like to the public? Hell, what's her dad gonna do about it . . .
Maybe they could get away with claiming it a storyline, despite it not being any special wrestling-specific event.
Still, she couldn't deny that things had to change.
This was really the only way that things could have gone, when she thought about it all in retrospect.
She continued to run the possible alternate scenarios in her head for minutes on end.
Eventually, a nurse came over and said that she needed to move to let sick or injured people sit down and rest.
Tina's legitimately gracious, southern manners caused her to reluctantly agree, so she got up voluntarily.
As soon as she did, she was subjected to looking at the empty chair for a painfully long time as the self-important staff and bustling patients walked by at strangely fast paces.
That's what she got for being nice, she thought.
Eventually, a fly landed on her cheek.
She slapped herself, immediately feeling stupid for having done so.
It kept buzzing and buzzing around her ears. In and out, in and out.
It wouldn't fucking stop.
Those little wings just kept on spazzing out, driving it all around her ears as the light fixtures in the ceiling painted everything a stale green.
All of it looked decayed and old, like it hadn't been cleaned and used for years, yet the hospital was supposedly spotless.
And that chair she'd been asked to vacate was still empty.
Tina became irritated and moody, as her arm would occasionally twitch beyond her control, prompting her to become increasingly annoyed at her surroundings.
Oh great, it was getting hot.
"Yo, Tina. Dante was lookin' for you." Zack said.
"Hmm? What for?" She inquired as the green-haired, African-American man came up to her.
Her depressive thoughts had almost completely rid her of any mention about the strange fighter.
"Uh . . . I dunno. I kinda sent him on a wild goose chase 'cause I didn't know where you were." Zack admitted.
He knew Dante wouldn't be thrilled, but what was the worst that could happen?
"Zack! Ya coulda at least given him a good suggestion." When situations got serious her southern accent would lessen greatly.
Weird, huh?
Suddenly, violent noises began to leak in from outside, starting with a gigantic crashing sound, followed by rubble falling downwards.
Tina immediately identified exploding cars and terrified human screams, alongside various other different noises that she couldn't make out.
"What the hell?" Zack exclaimed; pacing over to a window in the crowded and increasingly panicked reception.
He could steadily make out a tall hooded figure and a strange, flaming blue knife suspended in air. The figure had taken out numerous street lamps, leaving the entire area dark.
The only outside source of illumination that could be seen was the floating blade, which was emitting pale flame's.
Tina came over to stand next to him as the noises outside eventually ceased and was replaced by muffled speech.
Soon after, sudden sparks and gunshots began exploding from seemingly nowhere.
The movements were too fast to see from their perspective but the gunshots illuminated the scene outside, showing chaos and dead bodies, gruesomely cut to pieces and the strange creature itself.
The other one Tina recognized as primarily familiar.
'Oh, sweet jesus. I knew somethin wasn't right about him.' She thought to herself as she witnessed Dante become a red blur.
The guns also added to the panic and soon, much of the hospital was filled with screams and people struggling to get out, violently reacting to one another as the fear escalated.
As corridors and rooms quickly filled in, Zack saw an escape route open up.
He grabbed Tina and darted forward to an employee's only door.
The two burst through to the shock of many hospital staff.
They were bewildered by the chaos and even more so by the presence of insistent strangers.
However, as confusion and disorientation mounted, the hospital staff was more concerned about the hysteria occurring out in the halls.
The two scurried through and Zack wound up outright elbowing one worker in the face because they were in the way.
He burst out into the alleyway, with her clutched close behind.
They saw fire coming from one direction and he decidedly ran the opposite way, without consulting Tina.
"Whoa- Hey! Whoa there! I'm not a rubber band! What about dad?!" She shouted at him. He looked back at her negligently.
"No time, fancy face." He replied. She angrily tried to break free but he relentlessly pulled her with him until she simply gave up resisting.
Modern sexism sucks, huh?
They ran down the sidewalk until all fear was drowned out by the sounds of self absorbed pedestrians and corroded cars speeding through intersections.
Zack instantly pulled out a phone and called up an unknown person.
"Baby? Yeah . . . It's me. Ye- . . . I know- I know it's late bu- Would you relax?! Baby, baby, stop bein' African, I got a problem! . . . Whaddya mean I'm talkin' improper? . . .
That's what you are, so am I! It ain't racist if I'm the same color, baby! . . . Alri- Ye-D- . . .
JUST BE HERE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES OR IMMA KILL YA NEW BOYFRIEND! Kay?! Alright, bye- I- er . . . I love you too." He hung up.
Tina was greatly amused by what she heard.
The sudden argument, all the way to the hushed tone of the obligatory 'I love you' made her giggle as she observed him struggling with real life problems,
but he also somehow managed to maintain his larger than life swagger.
God he was just so goofy.
It appeared that both everything, and nothing, had changed about the man who once tried so desperately to court her.
"Having some issues, hun?" She sardonically asked.
He responded with a grimace.
"It ain't like that, okay? Just a friend ya'know? Ah, forget it." He said, waving his hand and looking away.
The Muay Thai fighter couldn't help but look silly even in his somber moments.
Perhaps it was his consistently awkward body language, or maybe his preposterous green hair and sunglasses combo.
Whatever the case was, he was quite the flamboyant sight to many passersby, often looking back at him in a double take.
"Look, it's somebody I jus' know, all right? We're gonna meet her at the subway station. When we get there, she's gonna take us to a safe place for a little while." Zack stated.
And again, somehow the self-taught fighter managed to spark anger after a calm moment.
"A safe place?! I ain't goin' to no safe house, ya jerk! We have to get back to my dad. This is insane!" She stated.
Tina was unprepared for the man's response.
"Oh get off of your self absorbed ass and realize you can't turn to your father for everything!
If I recall, firsthand, you're the one who gave the go ahead for that Dante guy to put im' in the hospital in the first place. So don't keep cryin' bout how 'insane this is.'
I know it's not a studio set or wrestle-ring, but it's damn well better than goin' back to that asshat's hospital room!" He angrily told her.
A glowing kiss-ass he was no longer.
They glared at each other in discontent.
"If you're gonna slap me, do it now at least . . ." He grumbled.
She raised her hand and he closed eyes, but no blow ever came.
Instead, he felt an arm grab his back and pull him in for a hug. He felt a wet spot form on his shirt as she buried her head in his tee.
"Yer right. You're right. I can't keep relyin' on him.
He's so controlling but . . . he's always been there, you know? I just can't . . ." She trailed off.
He awkwardly put a hand on her head and reluctantly comforted his bygone compadre.
Sighing, they simply stood in silence together.
People walked by and either paid them no attention or shot them odd looks; somewhere between jealousy and piousness.
"You okay? I know you've been thru some stuff today, but it'll get easier. You watch; there'll come a day where you'll look back on it and be glad.
Just . . . stay strong. You always were to me." Zack said.
She parted away from him and looked right at his weathered face.
Her eyes seemed to lance through his impassable shades and the duo started making their way further into the city to the subway, their friendship from years ago reinstated.
-Meanwhile-
Bayman and his men arrived at the investigation site.
As the commanding officer, the Russian stepped off of his respective copter and walked over to a sergeant holding the area until their arrival.
"Hello sir. Sergeant Wilhelm." The man said, a slight midwest accent accompanying his reverent tone.
Wilhelm? Maybe he was of german descent.
"Pleasure. What have we got here?" Bayman asked, oddly informal for the highest reigning official.
"Sir?" Wilhelm asked, confused.
"The tape only had static, Sergeant. What are we dealing with?" He clarified.
"Well, we really don't know quite yet. There isn't much forensics to go on other than the . . . corpses, I guess.
All we can say for sure is that something incredibly grim happened." The Sergeant stated.
Bayman raised an eyebrow.
"That bad? Well, lets take a look together. Maybe there's something your men haven't found yet." He decided as they began walking, with Wilhelm escorting the new arrivals up to a wrecked car.
They peered inside and discovered a bloodied husk.
With nothing of significance here, the search continued onwards.
Hunting all over, this group saw a destroyed brick wall.
It had caused a portion of the building to collapse, surrounding a peculiar point of impact.
The former mercenary noticed that up along the side of an uncollapsed wall were specific cracks and gray areas where the outer material was crushed and knocked away.
They aligned straight in a pattern scaling up the structure, but were all shaped vaguely like human feet.
"What the . . . Uh, Get a team up there." Bayman said, unsure of what reality he'd walked into.
They found fragments of a black and red piece of clothing, and began collecting them for forensic evidence.
Bayman noticed that the literal footprints contained a dried chemical substance that was dark blue. There were also a collection of other splattered spots several feet outwards in other areas.
He glanced over at a few adjacent rooftops and saw that there was a definitive and clear pathway to follow.
"Oh great. Just . . . fucking great." He muttered pessimistically.
They began painstakingly investigating the numerous alcoves and apartment roof coverings, scanning for any potential breakthrough.
Bayman reached what appeared to be the final battleground, before suddenly beginning to smell a strong scent of blood and ash.
He looked and looked, but couldn't see where the scent might be coming from.
How peculiar. It was impossible not to notice the smell, all he could rely on was his nose.
Continued investigation soon became halted when their trail collided with the scene of a disaster.
It was hidden faintly by the crowded, obnoxious skyscrapers that were overbuilt, with many having become connected by bridges and adjoining add-ons.
Some were even built into each other over the years, all lacking a semblance of modernness about them.
Yet, they felt like they could've been built at any point in time.
Despite this, what laid beyond this could still be viewed just as well.
It was arduous at first; Bayman had to strain his eyes, but he eventually managed to make out a semblance of fog or smoke.
Smog, most likely.
It wasn't until he drew closer that he suddenly realized there was a huge cloud stemming from a vaporized wasteland, at least between five and ten miles in diameter.
The temperature was burning up, simply being near the area caused symptoms of excessive diaphoresis to manifest itself in several operatives following.
"What the fuck is this?! Why didn't anyone of you come investigating this part of town?!" Bayman barked with a slight twist of sarcasm in his voice.
The others remained quiet and nervous.
Sergeant Wilhelm reluctantly approached him with a local map.
"This must be recent, really recent. We didn't receive any intel on this at all. Let me tell you though, it's been a crazy night.
All of it seems to be originating from this hospital, Saint Nevermore: Established in 1963 and named after Peter Nevermore, a purportedly Christian Scientist and Biologist, if there ever was such a thing. He apparently helped in the development of medication for Parkinson's disease, though if he was a Christian Scientist, I've no idea how." The Sergeant stated flatly.
"And?" Bayman asked skeptically.
"Dah- Well, um-, there seems to have been a seriously large degree of activity in the general vicinity of the building tonight.
The first incident was an altercation between a rowdy hospital patron who was signed in as a John Doe and a female receptionist.
This led to security being called and when he, and the woman who brought him in, beat up all the security staff in the parking lot, the regular cops arrived and then chased them down to a building.
Supposedly they've continued a manhunt for them, but it seems they- ahem, uh . . . eheh, disappeared." Wilhelm meekly stated.
Bayman turned to face him.
"Run that last part by me again?"
"Um, they, uh, disappeared." The Sergeant repeated.
Bayman raised a trademark eyebrow. "Into what? Thin-fucking-air?"
"Ah. Once again, Sir has completely cut straight to the point. Where did they go? And the answer is . . . Thin-fucking-air, yes." Wilhelm reluctantly repeated a third time.
The former mercenary sighed. "Ugh. And then what happened, pray tell?"
"Two unknown figures began fighting on the abandoned top floor. When we went to investigate all we saw was a bunch of broken windows and some scattered dust and sand, a real pigsty.
Witnesses say they saw the figures battle it out on the streets.
They caused a large amount of destruction, then appeared to vanish. We found some pretty unsavory stuff, as you know." Wilhelm finished the overview.
"And then the rest is history. All right, I guess just . . . call in the Hazmat's and inspect the area for lethal radiation, before we proceed." Bayman said unsure of how to exactly handle the situation.
-Meanwhile- In the flattened ruins.
Dante skulked around for his sword.
His legs had painfully regenerated after sometime and were somewhat usable again.
His blackened bones returned to their healthy white color before appearing to become red and meaty when some of his personage finally grew back.
Cracked limbs popped back into place, and he began to look closer to normal after a few more minutes.
His arm was half grown, missing the hand primarily but having regenerated some of his forearm.
The appendage looked as though it was held together purely by loose tendons and remaining clothing.
Much of his skin was still damaged and looked flayed, leaving mostly raw muscles and exposed fibers.
"The shop. . . Just gotta get back to the shop." He said aloud to himself as he carried his damaged body across gray ash, leaving red footprints wherever he stepped.
His boots remained slightly intact, wound together by the laces.
Those brown pants had been reduced to burned canvas while his jacket was cut to ribbons and singed crispy on it's various edges.
His shirts were mostly gone, revealing a healed chest but an exposed and badly ripped apart abdomen. His ribs were visible, all mangled and such.
Although his face had most of it's flesh restored, it remained necrotized and warped, a hollow shell of it's former finesse for now.
He closed the fingers of his left hand and whispered an unknown phrase.
His guns reappeared in their strangely preserved holsters.
"If only I remembered that trick for the sword. Eh, tasks for later. Where is that damn thing. . . ?" Well, at least Dante had goals.
He staggered about, struck with limps in both his legs.
Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the stained chrome of a car bumper, he saw his 'new look.'
A zombie.
He was a zombie now, doomed in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, similar to one in the shows he watched.
"So handsome, now so hungry." The man had a knack for speaking, even when alone.
As he continued wandering around he eventually managed to find Rebellion, much to his happiness.
However, much to his chagrin, he also saw three figures in hazardous material suits poking and prodding it with futuristic looking technology.
'Oh this isn't gonna end well.' He thought to himself as he trudged along toward his possession.
"Ahoy there!" Dante vocalized enthusiastically.
His smooth baritone had, however, become a gruff, croaking roar.
That rancid voice immediately drew the attention of the strangers.
"You're not going to take my sword and blow me up, are you?" He asked jokingly, if not hopefully.
.
He was met with horrified screaming.
"AAAAAAAHHH!" Shrieked the one.
"It's a Zombie!" Cried the second.
"What the ducking ducker-fuck!? OH GOD!" Screamed the third.
All three bumbled and tripped over one another.
Dante half-stood and watched in amusement.
"Just about the level of teamwork I expected . . ." He muttered, "Oh relax. I'm just gonna take this sword and then hobble my burnt body over downtown. No biggie, I swear . . ."
A minute went by.
". . . Y-you guy's done screaming yet?" The bemused slayer asked, almost concerned.
The three continued to bang into each other and scuffle around on the ground.
Their yellow outfits turned to gray from all the matted dust. In the grand scheme of things, he'd say they'd only gotten about a foot farther away.
"As, uh . . . 'Entertaining' as this is, I'm gonna leave now." He said as he moved forward, hand outstretched towards his sword.
Dante grabbed the handle.
One of the men got free from the tangle and shouted a stupid, flustered mangle of an English word, and then used one of their little gasgets to bash Dante's hand off.
"Ah! Why?!" He angrily shouted as he observed his withered hand crumble in on itself.
The frightened man attacked him again and struck his shoulder.
Dante fell back a little, his collar bone most definitely broken again, but caught himself.
He dodged the third swing and then snap-kicked the man's gut.
Some of his strength returned as the stranger went flying backwards ten feet and landed unconscious.
The others quickly panicked, scattering away.
That being said, his wounds weren't healing anymore.
He'd reached a critical point. His body just felt too much stress to continue on making repairs.
Falling forward, onto the handle of his sword, he managed to balance himself.
Using it as a crutch to keep himself upright, it afforded him the clarity to begin focusing and meditating.
In a few seconds, his remaining hand scrunched back a useful state.
The man grabbed the sword and he placed it on his back, where it belonged; the demonic bond keeping it strapped to him.
"Note to self, don't bother being friendly to strangers. They'll most likely hit you no matter what ya say . . ." Dante angrily muttered under his breath during his continued push forward.
He had no time to stop and recharge.
His power was drained, fractured, and it was clear humans had shown up.
No choice now. He had to flee. He had to evade military at all costs.
He heard a voice speak behind him.
"Hey! Hey you!"
He turned back out of instinct and saw a lone soldier.
"What the fuck?-! Hey, hey!" The soldier shouted, confused by his grotesque appearance.
"Oh, hello. You're not exactly catching me at my best." He sardonically quipped as he quickly drew Ebony with his left hand and shot the man in his shoulder, disarming him. He hated hurting humans, even bad ones.
Dante immediately began running as fast as he could.
The soldier screamed, attempting to alert the others of the devil's presence.
He ran, even though he could feel his legs buckling and tearing.
He refused to stop, not for his injuries, nor his military pursuers.
A loud bang rung out.
Dante had a delayed reaction. A sniper round entered and then exited his torso.
He stammered forward out of control, but regained balance. The hunter maintained to run further and faster.
Multiple gun shots zipped by, occasionally thrashing a part of his body.
'Good. They're far away at least. Or they can't shoot to save their lives.' Dante thought to himself.
Bayman ran up to the unconscious tech.
"Hey! What happened?" He yelled.
"Z-zombie . . ." the man uttered as he fell back unconscious.
The merc's face ignited.
Confused, he screamed, "What the actual fuck is going on here!?"
The Hazmats hadn't found any radiation. It was safe for them to scout the area.
He'd decided to have the tech team scout as well, aiding in the search for evidence. He felt ashamed that he led them to being assaulted.
This all drove him to find the 'Zombie.'
Wilhelm stalked Dante from a sniper scope. He was constantly taking shots at him, rapid fire.
He had to reload every few seconds or so, managing to get a few shots on the strange figure, but missed several times as well.
The inhuman speed and agility weren't exactly the kinds of threats soldiers like him were prepared for.
"What is this thing?" He questioned through the intercom.
Another pursuer answered.
"It's humanoid, but my viewfinder's showing me something that looks like an incinerated corpse." He said as he chased after the thing as well.
Another soldier was out of shape, panting and running to try to catch up as well.
"It's really fast!" He shouted, already worn out.
The speedy suspect continued sprinting, and, eventually, found a huge piece of building rubble.
He ran up and capered over it. Intending to land behind it and hide, he knew it was desperate, but it was the only thing he could do.
He stuck the landing but the ground instantly caved in underneath him.
Falling sixty some odd feet, he landed in the bowels of a destroyed car park.
His body banked off a concrete pillar and landed on the hood of another car.
Sliding off, he face-planted into the ground. The colossal wreckage above tilted over, covering the hole.
He stayed still for a solid five minutes.
Eventually, Dante grumbled back awake, spitting out a few bone fragments.
Lovely.
"Oooooh . . . Why the big falls? . . . it's always the big falls." The slayer groaned as he climbed back up to his feet, knowing he wouldn't be hidden for long.
A small sliver of moonlight poked through a tiny hole numerous feet above.
Taking a moment to refocus his senses, his ears attuned themselves to a wider frequency range, zeroing in on faraway sound.
In an instant, he managed to queue in to human voices.
They were muffled at first, but some time made them clear up.
"Shit! Where did it go?" One voice spoke. "The target has escaped! I repeat. The target has escaped!" It said.
Another one answered.
"It couldn't have gone far. It probably fell through into an underground complex. There's liable to be a few unsafe pockets under ground. Secure the area and entrap it!" The strong voice spoke.
Really? They wouldn't even search for some of the people that had gotten trapped under all the debris?
"Brilliant." Dante said to himself.
He ceased focusing and his hearing returned to normal.
The man then began looking for an escape.
The area wasn't illuminated much, but this didn't matter.
His gaze effortlessly bore through the black veil that invaded the cavernous car park.
There was a door with an unlit exit signal.
He chose to try to open it. Found inside were impassable ruins.
Stifled, the fraying halfling put together a new plan.
He returned his focus and spied the soldiers efficiently finding the entrances and exits. Quickly, the servicemen began infiltrating the underground lot.
He stole beneath some fallen remains, managing to crawl to a new area.
Metal girders were littered across a splintered ground of tar and metal re-bars stuck out of jaggedly compressed concrete.
Car parts and obliterated human remains were laid about, scattered.
He saw a broken elevator and a separate, jammed in, steaming tube-shaped hall.
The apparent slump of the building, caused by the explosion, forced the sewer entrance for maintenance workers to become exposed and twisted.
"Welp, got no other options." The grossly wounded slayer spoke as he hurried into the tunnel.
He knew that if something collapsed, the hallway would be a dead end.
It was the only thing he could find.
Uneasiness clawed at his back. He stepped through the drab, concrete tunnel.
There were various snags and places where the tunnel had obviously been mangled out of place.
Every once in a while, electrical wires shocked the tube, illuminating the cracks.
He could see far but it looked as though he may yet face a dead end still.
Unexpectedly, he came up to a door.
An electric pulse from his neurons gripped his heart. At least that was still working.
Slowly, he grabbed the handle and pushed forward.
It didn't move.
'No! No! No! No! No!'
The door wouldn't open.
The last light for him squashed, Dante prepared to face his immanent fate.
He'd probably end up in some giant test tube, surrounded by an unknown liquid. What was that gunk scientists put in those things anyway?
Before turning, his eye caught a glimpse of something on the door.
It was a sign he had paid no attention, that said pull.
"Ah, dummy." He said while pulling the door open.
A completely clear path.
The man strolled through the door.
Although initially he was going to let it close, a thought grew.
He caught it at the last second.
Reaching around with his only hand, Dante tugged hard on the black steel.
After a few seconds, a metallic whining arose as the element expanded. Perhaps he pried in the wrong direction.
He stepped back through and held the door open with his leg while repositioning his hand.
Steadily, he yanked downward.
Success!
The shoddily welded handle broke clean off it's point of origin and crumpled to the floor, useless.
No doubt, this would leave the hall completely inaccessible for anyone following him.
He slid back through and let the door close behind him, sealing it off.
To boot, the door was heavy by human standards.
He walked for what seemed like miles until he found the next ladder up.
Just to be safe, he kept going until he reached another.
During the walk, his pathway led into another that contained a river of sewage.
The smell was disgusting, but he somehow managed to bear through it.
Walking on the solid concrete ledge, thankfully, he didn't have to wade through this horrible shit.
The next way out thankfully came soon enough.
He climbed up, using his shortened arm as a way to gain leverage.
Dante popped the manhole cover off and looked out.
A taxi car nearly erase his head.
He ducked down with superhuman precision, just before it could hit him.
Quickly hoisting himself up and out, he clawed his way onto the tar street, putting the cover back on and quickly darting into an alley.
In this town, amputees weren't an uncommon sight.
Plenty of old, ignored veterans and homeless people with other stories walked around with limbs everyday.
The alley was dingy, but it gave him the temporary solace he needed.
A discarded, old, black greatcoat with a hood sat on the ground. It was in better condition than his, so he grabbed it.
He placed the jacket over his ragged body, and wore it to hide his destroyed visage.
He recognized this part of town, realizing he'd overshot his shop by a sizable distance.
Intensely annoyed, Dante walked home to the shop.
-Meanwhile- In the sewer maintenance pipe
"We've found a tunnel!" Wilhelm declared.
Bayman became positive.
"Well, there's no other way out of here. This is the lowest floor." He looked at the ground and touched it with two gloved fingers.
Bringing his fingers up after a good swipe, he saw blood.
"Yep, this is the right way. Alright! Everyone stay alert, we're going in." The muscled leader said.
He seemed as attentive as a hawk.
They stormed the hallway, looking for fresher blood.
Around halfway through, Bayman heard a door open and close. He suddenly ran as fast as he could and reached a metal doorway.
A surprised Wilhelm caught up to him just before the others started filtering through.
"What!? What did you find?" The sergeant inquired.
"I heard a rat. A big rat, and it went through this door." Bayman explained.
Wilhelm casually grabbed for where he expected the industrial door handle to be located.
He missed and cut his hand open, immediately shining a flashlight. He only saw a jagged and destroyed chunk of black metal where the haft should have been.
Bayman shined his own light on the ground and saw the warped grip.
" . . . You've gotta be fucking joshing me." He said.
"What do we do now?" A stunned Wilhelm asked.
"Get a powersaw and cut through the damn thing." He said.
When he looked back at him, he noted a lack of acknowledgement.
"Saw, sir?" The man asked.
"You don't have a saw? Of any kind? What the hell kind of troop is this?! Do we have a ram at least?" The Russian demanded to know.
"I'll check." Wilhelm answered as he grabbed his radio.
Before he could say anything an enraged Bayman yelled, "Now, not tomorrow!"
"Y-yes sir!" He said in response as he heightened his pace.
-Meanwhile- Downtown
He took back alleyways and kept his head down for most of the way.
The city glistened with neon lighting; a choir of signs and traffic polishing the streets with aggression.
He was forced to take an intersection, so he placed his hand his pocket and put the hood down over his face.
He avoided people as best he could, but the sidewalks were a bit crowded tonight.
At one of the lights he had to cross, a nosey pedestrian stepped in his way and asked him why he was hiding his face for no particular reason.
Dante simply looked up and smiled, his terrifying visage causing the person to tumble back and splash in a puddle.
He walked on by, abandoning them in favor of his escape route.
Keeping his hand hidden, the man feigned with his other one.
Every part of his body screamed at him.
It kept hurting him. It hurt so much.
Eventually, he came to a smaller part of town, though it was still just as boisterous.
He walked across an intersection and then traversed a final alley between a restaurant and a clothing store.
It led out into a darkened lot, where he came to see it.
Home sweet home at last.
Dante walked across the empty gravel lot that was still serviceable as a parking ground (it had a main entrance accessible from the major street).
He came up to the doors and used a spare key he kept under the welcome mat.
Taking the key in with him, he turned on the lights.
Quite the day.
He accomplished virtually nothing, had been nearly annihilated by a ninja-demon no less, or so he thought, and he'd been chased by the military.
In his back bedroom was a drawer.
Inside was one of many clear, pulsating, neon-lit bottles.
Inside, a bright green liquid swirled torturously, without a master. He removed the jug's lid, and plunged the essence inside down his throat.
It enveloped him in a brilliant swirl of plasma. Sometimes you needed a little extra kick up, you know? Especially when dealing with near total cell death.
His body was fully restored, each little injury correcting itself, and he felt happiness come over him. The pain just melted away. Soon, the light vanished, and he felt relaxed again.
Comfortable, almost. Except for the clothing.
The tired soul took off his torn and dirtied wears and threw them in the open dumpster outside from a window.
"Should have taken some ambrosia with me if I'd known I'd be running into demon's tonight." He said while he limped into his bathroom.
The substance he drank was produced from a demonic fruit he'd encountered. Just one seed planted in his shop's garden and he had life-time supply.
As he took a shower, he cleaned his hair out, which returned it to its proper silver-white color rather than the dumpy gray it had become.
He double checked all the doors to make sure they were locked tight, a usual precautionary measurement he took, and climbed to his bed.
Just as he was about to go to sleep and relish a night of peaceful slumber, he heard a noise.
It sounded like a piece of paper hitting the floor; subtle, but his hearing caught it anyway.
Opening his eyes, he looked up to see Christie on top of him, a gun, with a silencer attached, pointed at his forehead.
"The end to a perfect day." He said as she smirked and slowly pressed on the trigger.
Chapter End
Ooh boy, this was not in good shape when i got back to it. I must've been half asleep, what was with all the overly-complex sentences?
Anyway, notes are in the manifest, and reviews are appreciated, see ya next update.