Dante was pinned to a building by one of the demonic shuriken, the blade running through his right shoulder and stabbing through the steel keeping the place up. He was thankful he had opted for such a dark wardrobe and the red coat; it masked the blood flowing from his injuries. The energy robbing horseman was galloping towards him as he writhed and struggled against the blade, the mad look in the demon's eyes promising a messy death.
With some struggle Dante managed to wrench the shuriken out of his shoulder and flung it at his oncoming attacker, though thanks to the wound the toss was sloppy and fell far off mark. But the attack was not the most important matter, rather that he could then dodge to the side as the demon ran his horse right through the wall of the building, seemingly disappearing into it.
"Oh come on!" Dante shouted, gripping at the stab, "How many powers do you have?!" Whatever Famine's powers were or how they worked he didn't understand, but they just left him completely sapped of energy. At his best he had taken bullets to the head and impalement to the heart, but Famine was robbing him of his ability to heal. The wounds stayed bloody longer, the pain was more intense. Though the pain lingered far longer than he was used to, irritation was actually the major feeling in his mind, a bitterness that after everything he had done to rebuild his lost sense of personality, he was on the losing end of this fight.
The steel of the building seemed to reverberate for a moment before Famine again lunged out of his on the back of his horse, swinging his shuriken mere inches from Dante's throat. The demon hunter dodged the gallop of the hellish steed and took his stance as Famine came rushing at him again. He slipped his pistols out of their holsters as the horseman came rushing at him again, refusing to move from his place as he crossed the guns. "Speed it up! I played chicken with a hell-horse and whole chariot when I was a kid! I can sure kick your ass now!"
The demon appeared to smile (difficult to tell for sure, given the oddity of its construction) as it booted at its horse to ride toward him faster and faster. Ivory and Ebony began to glow with a distinct golden lightning. The demon cackled louder as he closed the distance, raising his two shuriken for what would surely be the finishing blow.
In the last moments before the cut, Dante leaned backwards and fell onto his back. The horse was great and wide enough that he knew it couldn't trample him if he fell just properly between the four legs. He angled his pistols upwards and fired, not bullets, but two great bolts of lightning upwards and blasted through the dead of the undead horse, turning it to dust in a moment. Famine and the horse managed to pass through the building again, but when Dante stood up he could see the defeated steed collapse and throw its rider off of it, he hitting the street in what sounded like a broken mess, though Dante was sure it was not over yet.
The demon struggled to its feet, clearly disoriented, when in a silvery blur its thin body was impaled through the chest by Rebellion. Famine roared in agony as Dante, his skin now a deep gray and his battle cry distorted, lunged forward and pressed his boots to the demon's chest before wrenching his claymore upwards in a great sweeping leap, bisecting his foe from the chest up. He jumped backwards and allowed his demonic energy to fade as the demon's two halves fell, one forward towards his feet and the other backwards to the concrete.
"You… You wily son of a bitch," the demon gurgled through gnashing teeth. "Aha… Haha ha ha… Ah hah hah hah!" It roared in laughter. "Though I have fallen… My work is done… You'll never stop his rise, Son of Sparda… One gate remains… One horseman remains…"
"And rest assured, I'm gonna stomp him out too."
"Human kind has overcome the trials of conquest… Of war… And of famine… But the last horseman has never been overcome… How Dante… Will you defeat Death itself?" And with a last cackle the monster's tightly bound skin began to corrode until nothing remained of him on the street but a man-shaped pile of dust.
Dante considered the demon's words for a moment before reminding himself that, to even hope to stop the last horseman, he'd have to find him first. There was only one place to go.
Dante had not turned here for anything in years, in the worst of his times it was just another place he tried to forget. But he knew it housed something important. He sighed a little and began rapping on the door. A raspy voice bearing a thin Italian accent shouted at someone else in the room, and a gangly teenager wearing a windbreaker dirtied by black oil answered the door.
"Uhh… Hello," he said awkwardly. "Ferino and Son's auto mechanic, where we-"
"Is Enzo in?" Dante asked bluntly.
"Who said my name- Dante! Dante you sly bastard! Get in here!"
Dante had not seen or spoken to his former confidant in years and wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He was still short and pudgy as ever, though a small white goatee now adorned his face and graying hair were desperately combed across his usually shaved head. He was wearing relatively simple clothes, but the great fur coat on the wall nearby implied he dressed far sharper when he went out. In his mouth he was smoking, no, by the looks of it, chomping on a great cigar, which he removed just long enough to motion and shout to the young man, "Junior! Go in the back and get this man a drink!"
Dante stepped in to a large, crowded car garage, the sound of music blairing from a boom box he couldn't see and tools and oil covering the ground. A number of photos and calendars of scantily clad women leaning on or practically straddling various car parts decorated the walls, along with a beat up, long out of commission biplane hanging from the ceiling.
"But Pop who-"
"I'm actually kind of on business right now Enzo," Dante said, stepping forward to his old friend. "It probably wouldn't be such a good idea."
"Bah! Go get him an ice cream cone then! Strawberry still your favorite?"
"You still have my old soft-serve machine in the back?" Dante asked in disbelief.
"Of course I do! You know how many moms end up in hea' after their kids soccer matches or some crap like that? That damn soft-serve machine was the best investment I eva' made! It makes more money than the garage, easy, I can't believe you got ridda' it."
"Had to pay the rent somehow," Dante said.
"Psh! You finally get outta debt and you waste it all on an ice cream machine, which you sell to me when you end up back in debt and is used to make me a killing! Circle a life' or some jazz like that I guess."
The young man returned and handed Dante a pink ice cream cone, which he accepted. "This your boy?"
"Yeah. Course you haven't seen im' since he was a kid. Get back on that car over there Junior, Dante and me gonna talk."
Dante took a few steps closer as he licked at the cone. "How's his mom?"
"Ugh, don't talk to me about that bitch. If you really wanna know just start knocking on doors around town. Sooner or later you'll catch her screwin' somebody. Probably onea my brothas'."
"Ah. Sorry about that."
"Eh don't worry about it too bad bud. Got a new wife now," he motioned towards his desk as they walked past it, a photo of Enzo with his arms wrapped around a taller platinum blonde haired woman with a seemingly impossibly ideal physique on the center.
"My God… She looks like a Barbie doll."
"Hey, real, fake, it don't matter when your face is right in the middle of all that. Trust me."
"I'll take your word for it," Dante replied. "How's the mechanics business? Besides the ice cream machine."
"Good! It's very good," Enzo said proudly. "Course it was better back for a while when demons kept totaling everybody's cars… Its been kinda stagnant as of late."
"Actually… That's what I came to you about."
"What? Are you comin' outta retirement or somethin'? Lookin' for somebody to get you some new cases? Cause I don't wanna touch that crap anymore-"
"Actually I'm just here for Karnival." Dante said.
Enzo frowned and looked up at the plane hanging from the ceiling. "That old thing… But… But it's such a great conversation starter! What the hell are you gonna do with it?"
"I'm gonna take it for a spin, head out to a long abandoned island, maybe save the world somewhere in there. You know, the usual."
"You're gonna… You're gonna fly that thing? Howa' you gonna do that? It's a piece a crap! It was a piece a crap when you flew it here years ago! You practically paid me to take it!"
Dante studied the walls of the garage and the height at which the plane was teathered for a moment before jumping towards the walls, bouncing off them and hopping into the plane's cockpit before opening and rifling through its glove box.
"Show off," Enzo grunted as Dante jumped back down, clutching a few items he had taken.
"Thanks for never cleaning it out. Okay, look here," he said, opening his hands and first referring to a small black sphere, "This is a neo-generator. I learned how to make them years ago discovered they were what was powering the plane when I first escaped Mallet. Onea these probably has the energy equivalent of a nuclear power plant."
"What in the- why have you never tried to sell that then?!" Enzo demanded.
"Eh, it'd pry wreck the economy. And they aren't easy to forge either. You need a lot of blood and a lot of heat. Doesn't matter though. This," he continued, referring to a circular object, "Is a compass linked to Mallet Island. The place changes location every night, maybe even just at old man Mundus's will, but with this I can track it down." He looked down and noted it was pointing towards the west.
"Why are you going to Mallet again?" Enzo asked. "And this Mundus talk… I thought you dealt with him already."
"This is something new," Dante said solemnly. "Familiar, but new… And for the sake of the world I need to get out to Mallet as fast as I can."
The sudden harshness of the conversation took Enzo by surprise. He adjusted his glasses a little as he starred at his old friend inquisitively. "Man… I thought something seemed different about you… That last remark and the weight… You're a different man Dante."
"Am I?"
"Yeah… I mean, I guess… But only kinda… You still got that spark you used to… But I can feel how grave this is… Your tone kinda speaks volumes… Junior! Come ere' and help me get the old plane down."
"What?!"
"You heard me!" Enzo stopped in his tracks and continued to look at Dante before saying, "I don't know where you been all this time… But I'm glad you're back… Especially if what you're saying is true."
"It is… And thanks." Dante said with a nod and a bit of a smile.
"Between me and you bud… I think the world kinda needs a guy like you to do more than just kill some demons."
"What do you mean by that?" Dante asked.
"I mean I watch a lotta movies and TV with the kid and the wife… The heroes… God I use that term loosely… I mean… You watch a lot of that stuff?"
"Nah," Dante said. "I stopped affording real TV channels years ago."
"Yeah, don't worry, it's all crap. The heroes are all a buncha assholes… I seen interviews with guys who make that crap. Where the hero just stands there and sweas' every other word, where he's got a real bad attitude… Where they're just annoying jack offs. You know what the execs say? 'It makes em' more realistic. The world doesn't want idealized heroes and all this flashy crap, save that for that cartoon garbage they make in Japan'. All that shit. That's all it is Dante. It's shit."
"What, you don't think heroes have problems too?" Dante asked. "I can assure you, I have a hell of an ego, but I have plenty of problems. I've just now been learning how to cope."
"Yeah yeah yeah, we all got problems, we all outta be better… Except these little bastards on the TV don't wanna act any better. They're assholes, through and through kid… World's changed Dante. World don't want glitz and glamour and a crazy attitude like yours no more… But frankly, I think it needs it." They were quiet for a moment as Enzo took a long drag at his cigar. "I know that was kind of a tangent but, I'm sorry... But I think every time I'm watchin' that crap… I kinda hope somebody like yous gonna show up."
"Am I some kind of ideal? I'm flattered."
"Maybe you can do things I can't, maybe you're a total freakin' loon… And maybe in spite of everything you bleed just like I do kid… And what do you do with those gifts? You try and be better than people like me. Maybe I can't really relate to somebody like you… But at least I actually want to… In a sentence kid, the heroes folks love these days are scum. You ain't scum, you aspire to something greater than all that crap… And I hope after this whole mess is over people open their eyes a little more and see just how bad they really need a guy like you."