The Devil of Zero

Disclaimer: Neither The Familiar of Zero nor Devil May Cry belong to me.

Omake: What's Happening With Dante

– The Devil Hunter –

Devil May Cry Office
About a month before the events of DMC4
Sunday, 1:07 AM

It was days like today that made Dante truly enjoy life. He'd just finished a week-long job this Friday, working for some guy running a small-town electronics store. It was the usual thing, just some demon with a bunch of marionettes slaughtering everyone that entered the store and harassing the store-owner, trying to make the guy commit suicide – the typical job he did in between those major disasters that people kept getting him involved in. He'd cleared out the marionettes and decapitated the demon pulling their strings – heh – and the store-owner had gratefully donated a fucking 70 inch plasma screen television and a Blu-Ray player in gratitude, as well as the comparatively small fee he'd paid in advance.

Probably because there hadn't been all that much collateral damage, but Dante didn't care. Fucking Matrix on Blu-Ray, on a 70-inch plasma screen TV!

If he died and went to heaven right now, Dante would probably tear his halo off and leap back down to Earth to continue watching.

Much to his annoyance, the phone started ringing. Stifling a groan, he reached behind his head and smacked his desk with enough force to send the phone flying into the air, the corded device landing neatly in his hand as he lowered the volume.

"Devil May Cry."

"Hey Dante."

"Lady? Huh. Haven't heard from you in a while. What's up?" Dante queried, his finger hovering on the volume button. By Mundus' burnt ass-hairs, if she's called to bitch about my debt again…

"Well, right now I'm sitting here with –" Whatever Lady had been about to say was lost, however, when Dante heard a bang from behind, and a dozen wicked-looking throwing knives flew above him to slice into the TV, the wondrous device sparking and flickering a little before dying. Incognizant of Lady's queries about the situation, Dante's slackening fingers dropped the phone before he composed himself, slowly turning around in the office swivel chair he'd sprung for a year ago to face the front of the office.

"That…was a 70-inch…plasma screen…TV…" He gritted out, before sucking a breath in between his clenched teeth and painting a strained smile across his face, at the same time resting his arms on the top of his desk and clasping his hands. "So, how can I help you?" Standing in front of the broken down doors of his office, which had for once managed to go for six months without being kicked in, exploded or cut apart, was a blond man of modest height, with aquiline features that would be commonly attributed to those of European nobility, dressed in some hooded white waistcoat and flagrantly displaying the single-edged large sword strapped to his hip.

"You must be the great Dante." He said, stepping forward.

"Suuuup."

"I've heard quite a lot about you."

"Oh really?"

"The Devil Hunter…who dons a coat drenched red in the blood of demons…Beyond human, a warrior whose strength eclipses that of Those Who Fell From Heaven themselves!"

"Oh, you dirty bitch, work the shaft!" Dante belted out. The man paused, visibly baffled.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I, heh, I like to dirty talk when someone's sucking my dick."

"…Perhaps I should just skip to my point. My name is Lord Alexander DuMedd-"

"And I'm Waldo, where am I!" Oh man, the guy's expression just twisted with irritation in a way that Dante just loved to invoke in others.

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you here."

"Oh, so am I, and I'm failing, and I'm sorry for that. It's just…I'm so agitated right now," Dante said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers before his face, "Because this blond shit just strolled into my office, destroyed my brand-new, 70-inch, PLASMA TV, and is trying to impress me like I'm his alcoholic father." In a flash, Lord DuMedd was standing atop Dante's desk, his sword held so that its point hovered a centimeter above Dante's nose – And in the same instant, Dante had drawn Ebony and Ivory, aiming them respectively at DuMedd's throat and groin. Dante grinned.

"Be a sport and grab daddy another beer, would you?" And then he fired – too slow though, since DuMedd had some sort of inhuman speed that let him dart and dodge around the Devil May Cry office in a way that reminded Dante of that irritating shit Arkham in his Jester form. Bullet after sorcerous bullet spat out of the customized M1911s at a massive rate of fire that peppered the inhumanly fast asshole's heels, as Dante just kept on pulling the triggers, the handguns leeching Infernal Energy to create their ammunition.

By God, this guy was gonna pay!

"Hmph. Just as aggressive as I've heard." DuMedd snarked, coming to a stop just before the doors. Dante stopped firing, but kept both guns fixed on the white-clothed ass. If this followed his experiences…

"But that will not avail you!"

…Then now would be the time DuMedd gloated and/or threatened him. The guy snapped his fingers, and the front wall burst down under the assault of six reptilian bipedal figures that Dante thought looked like Blades weighed down with heavy plate armor.

He just destroyed the entire front wall…Dante thought furiously. Normally, Dante was an easy-going guy. Generally friendly, amiable, the sort who'd kill you quick and mercifully. But now, now he was gonna kneecap this asshole, and crucify him with Agni and Rudra.

"These Blades are armored in the toughest of plate armor, forged from Infernal Iron! Your sword will not avail you here, and your puny bullets won't even dent it! You'll need an anti-tank rifle to get through this armor!" DuMedd declared triumphantly, as the armored Blades slowly advanced, three-foot claws twitching excitedly.

Dante's lips spread wide in a gleefully feral grin, and he holstered Ebony and Ivory before he stomped his foot, hard, the tremors shaking the office momentarily before Spiral – the heavily modified Lahti L-39 rifle he'd found in Temen-ni-Gru – fell into his outstretched hands. He braced the enormous rifle against his shoulder, the barrel hovering over his desk.

"Oh hey, an anti-tank rifle." DuMedd commented blandly. Then he realized what he said and what he was seeing. "What the fuck, an anti-tank rifle!" Dante's only response was a dark and gleeful chuckle before he angled the rifle so it now aimed at a wall and flooded energy into the weapon.

He squeezed the trigger. An enormous 20 x 138mm shell blasted out of the bore, glowing with sorcery, before it contacted the wall…and ricocheted. It bounced off of the wall at an angle, hit the ceiling, bounced off of it, and blasted through the first armored Blade before bouncing off of the floor and hitting the second from underneath, penetrating through the vaunted Infernal Iron plate armor and got stuck somewhere around the spine. Dante relished in the slack-jawed shocked look on DuMedd's face before firing off another round, this one bouncing at an angle off of the floor and entering a Blade's skull from under its chin, before then bouncing off of the ceiling and pulverizing another one's shoulder, said demon expiring from the shock and concussive force.

The two shots had devastated his desk from the backblast, but Dante figured it was worth it. Now, there were four Blades dead with two bullets, and one pair left. He steadied Spiral for one final shot, only for DuMedd to dart in and slice at the weapon with his sword. Forced off-target, Spiral's final shot instead went straight for the skull of one of the remaining Blades, crushed it, and rebounded to strike the floor to ricochet one final time and strike the final Blade in the groin.

"Ooh!" Both men groaned, wincing. DuMedd shook off the involuntary reaction, leaping back as Dante dropped Spiral.

"Fine! I didn't want to do this since my superiors want you alive, but if I must!" DuMedd declared, his body contorting strangely. "Now, BEHOLD!" His coat tore apart, his sword dissolved, and in DuMedd's place stood a seven-foot tall silver-armored knight-figure in the style of Teutonic Knights, visor alight with unholy flames.

"Now, you can't touch me!" The demon howled. "I was born to kill you! My strength, my durability, all rival, nay, surpass yours! Before me, you are but a mere mortal!"

"…Really?"

"Really."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Really?"

"REALLY!"

"Ooooh Nevan!" Dante sang, clapping his hands, sending a burst of Infernal Energy out.

"Wait, what?"

The floor right behind Dante and his desk shimmered, before it erupted out from the ground, creating a new wall festooned with wicked, devilish looking weapons. The Devil Hunter reached out and grabbed one of the weapons, a curious looking purple-black guitar that glowed with an ominous light…and for some reason, DuMedd could taste ozone.

Off to the side of the main selection, two scimitar-like swords, one red and the other blue, spoke through the small heads that served as their pommels.

"Look brother, master is fighting against some whelp!"

"Ooh! let us observe!"

– The Lady Hunter –

Lady, currently in a meeting with the people she and the other Hunters had been buying ammunition from, could only stare at the speaker phone as the screaming began. At first, there were some guitar chords and a staticky thundering noise before the screaming amped up, and then the other voices – a set Lady had hoped to never hear again in her life – started commenting.

"Brother, I do not think that knees are supposed to bend that way." Following this was a snapping sound, and a girlish shriek of agony.

"Apparently not brother, but oh, look now; I thought objects were supposed to exit that orifice?" More guitar strumming and now the sound of fluttering wings and rodent shrieks emanated from the phone, followed by even more screaming mixed with horrid, broken sobbing.

"Damn man, is that all you can take?" Dante's voice asked, with a distinctly wicked note of amusement Lady had never heard from the Son of Sparda before.

"…Who," One of the future clients asked reluctantly, "Who is that, exactly?" Lady thought for a moment, and then a sly smile graced her lips.

"Oh, that's just Dante." She said flippantly, as more screaming and sobbing erupted from the phone. "That's what he does whenever he runs out of ammo. Now, what was that issue about price…"

"Issue! What issue?" One of them stammered.

"I don't see an issue!"

"Shut up and take our money!"

– The Author –

…I have got to stop watching Abridged Series. Next thing you know, I'll start trying to work Ghost Nappa into a Scorpion's Masterpiece Omake.

Anyway, a small look into what Dante's doing on Earth while Vergil's massacring Halkeginians. Next actual story chapter is now getting done, give it a week.