A/N: Ok, now they have DMC4 on the iPhone. Am I the only one who knows that putting console games on iPhone format DOES NOT WORK! Also, I know that Nero isn't in my fic and that's because I started this fic before DMC4 came out and it's too much of a bother to try to work him in now.
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: DMC owned by Capcom. DOA and NG owned by Team Ninja and Tecmo.
Dead or Alive 4: The Devil Factor
Chapter 37: Icy Fortress
Elliot's residence
Great Britain
Saturday-5:12 p.m.
Ayame shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. The rose colored stuffed chair with brass buttons that bolted the hide to the frame circling the fronts of the armrests looked pretty and went with the rest of the room well, but the hide was stiff. Obviously it was not one of the most used pieces of furniture in the home. She could see that her companion, Miyako, had a similar problem with her chair.
Eliot's father, Robert, a man with a lean face and thick forearms with dark hair, sat in a burgundy recliner. He wiped his glasses with a cloth before returning them to his head. He was dressed in a pressed white business shit and dark slacks, like he had just gotten home from work. His stern gaze had the aura of control and discipline, like a soldier, but she saw no hatred, no ill will, it was almost like looking into the eyes of her late husband. A wave of nostalgia and depression hit, but she tried to sweep it aside. Now was not the time.
"I love my son." Robert suddenly said, tilting his head forward and peering at the two women over his glasses. "The wife and I may run a tight ship at home, but that's so our son knows about discipline. A man must have discipline in his life. Otherwise he's no better than an animal."
Ayame did not say anything. She waited for Robert to continue.
"When he told me about studying martial arts, I was for it. I studied a little karate back in my time. Nothing focuses your mind like legitimate fighting arts." He nodded at his remark. "Of course, the Misses would hear nothing of it. But when I told her that it would make him a better man, she went for it."
"Speaking of whom, I have to apologize for her behavior." Robert switched topics. "You have to understand that she comes from a well sized family herself. Two older brothers. One younger sister. She wanted that life for her children." Robert looked down for a moment. "But we don't always get what we want. A fact of life. But it affected my wife deeply."
A moment ticked by with Robert wrestling with something in his mind.
"My wife wants to treat our son with kid's gloves." Robert returned his gaze to his guests. "But he has to learn to stand on his own two feet. And while I'm not happy with what he has told me, I will respect his determination. But know this. I am letting you two stay here because of him, not you."
Ayame and Miyako nodded.
"I have children myself. As does Miyako." Ayame said. "Unfortunately, I have learned the hard way that I cannot protect them from everything. But I do want to say that a mother will always want to protect her child, no matter the circumstances."
Ayame looked over to Miyako for conformation. Instead she saw the woman look at her feet, sad about…something.
"I understand that a mother wants to keep her children safe." Robert broke the silence. "But a father wants to see his children succeed. This is the first time Eliot has put himself forward like this. If he thinks keeping you here is worthy, than I wish to see him succeed."
"And we thank you for your hospitality." Miyako bowed. "But I think you may be mistaken."
Ayame almost told Miyako to bite her tongue. She was dangerously close to insulting their host.
"A mother does want to keep her child safe but she also wants to see her children happy." She continued. "But we cannot soothe our desire to protect our children. It is a sacrifice all mothers must make. Please do not confuse her protectiveness as her will to hinder Eliot's growth."
Robert mulled over what the woman said, his eyes going up into his brain for a brief moment. "Maybe I have been too hard on my wife. But she does smother him…and I let her, because he's all we have." Robert shook his head. "When we found out that he went into the…tournament, I swear his mother was going to track him down and drag him back home. He was lucky he didn't get himself killed in that thing, cheeky boy."
"He's stronger than you think." Miyako boldly said. "He is not fragile."
"I know." Robert said calmly. "But he's still our son."
Miyako breathed deeply. Ayame saw that there was something niggling in her head.
"My daughter fights in the same tournament." Miyako motioned to Ayame. "So do her children. We know what its like to have our children in harms way, but sometimes…you have to realize there's nothing you can do but support them." Miyako leaned forward. "I am not telling you what to do. I'm telling you that there are other people in the same predicament as you."
"I see." Robert regarded Miyako with cool eyed. "But he is my son and I'll be damned if I'll sit on my bottom while he's neck deep in…whatever it is he's in."
"He protects us." Miyako replied calmly. "And we'll protect him."
Robert pressed his lips together, lost in his thoughts for a moment, and eventually, nodded slowly. "Alright."
Ayame's back remained tense, her eyes dashed between Miyako and Robert. Her fingers fidgeted.
"Well, now that that's taken care of, let's get dinner." Robert clapped his hands and got up from his chair.
"Talk, talk, talk, that's all they do." Marller pouted and tapped her arm. "And they're all so stuck up. Doubtful they'll do anything fun." Marller ran a hand through her hair. "Pity. The child I liked. Like a cute boy/girl." She sighed and stroked a purring Cait Sith. "Oh well, business before pleasure as they say."
The Japanese woman called Ayame; she was the demoness's target, a woman with three grown children. A woman she despised. A husband and family essentially handed to her, given to her like a lackluster gift.
Human romances were so…mundane and tedious. A demon did not have romances. Everything was about survival, even procreation. Strong parents meant strong offspring and strong offspring meant a better chance at survival. Some mindless low-level demoness's mated continuously, hoping that a horde of children would keep them safe, but quantity could not compare to quality.
Courtship was also about survival, especially amongst the higher classes. There was no flirting, no dating, no flowers and chocolates and movies. It was war. Sparda was the strongest and every female demon wanted him. Sparda could have had a harem, wives in the hundreds, but he still held to the old code, he would accept only one woman. And the fighting began.
Most of it was a blur to her. Adrenaline and reflexes surpassed memories. Many female demons relied on deception and trickery, brute strength was a rarity. Many fell in the first few hours followed by more in the next few days. After a week of non-stop bloodshed, she stood the victor. And he was gone.
After all the pain she endured, the challenges she overcame, the bodies she stepped over, he left and coupled with a mortal woman. Not a warrior, or princess, or priestess, or anyone special, just a small, pretty, useless human woman.
What he did was beyond cruel, it was down right insulting, a slap in her face. Everything she did he rendered moot.
His children proved worthy mates, but they were mixed breeds, tainted. If she bore their children, no matter how strong they could be, the taint would remain. The insult continued.
Other strong demons came to fill the void Sparda left, but none came close to his strength, his greatness, none worthy of her attention.
All she had left was vengeance. And then he robbed her further by disappearing. Well, if he refused to face his crimes, his family would, his children.
Dante and Vergil, all had to die, or the shame would continue to haunt her.
Douglas' Sanctuary
Russia
Saturday-7:08 p.m.
The ice queen had called in a 'meeting' at her office. Christie had never seen so much satin used to compose a room in her life. Helena had said very little, except for a few facts, Donovan, an icebreaker ship, and nothing else that held her interest. But she did notice something that did perk her curiosity.
Christie could smell it on her, the smell of night of passion and not just on her. She switched between Helena sitting in her big chair focusing a little too much on her laptop and Dante with his feet up on the desk and his arms behind his head. Dante played it cool, but Helena was obviously trying too hard. She might as well wear a neon sign over her head proclaiming 'I shagged the demon boy'.
But the other clues, while subtle, betrayed the French woman. The bitterness in her voice had subsided. The way she tensed her shoulders had vanished. Helena also took the time to go through her morning cosmetic ritual. She had put her make up on in a more professional manner instead of her recent hum-drum style. Her skin looked youthful and her lips moist.
Speaking of moist, Christie decided to pull back a little before she had to pull Dante aside for some relief.
Put all these little facts together and she had no doubt that Helena was dipping into her goods. Normally she did not mind sharing if she joined in on the fun, but obvious circumstances made current events teeter on the dangerous side.
But perhaps she looked at the scenario the wrong way. Maybe she had to switch to a 'glass half-full' outlook. Dante was even closer to the little ice queen and the closer you got to someone, the easier you could slip in the knife.
"Donovan's gone dark." Helena suddenly spoke up. "After his purchasing of the ice breaker, there's nothing." She tapped at her laptop's screen. "That means whatever he is planning, it will happen soon."
"Or…" Christie chimed in. "You're not watching him as closely as you think."
Helena's glare was unusually icier.
"I'm just saying, love, that perhaps I should do the honors of finding our prey." The sex melted on her words. "After all, you send a predator after prey."
The glare evolved into a slight snarl. At least she could still push the queen's buttons.
"She has a point." Dante said nonchalantly. "I mean, she tracked you down." Helena snapped her gaze to Dante, a look of betrayal in her face. "Oh, don't look at me like that." Dante brushed her off. "You want to find this guy or not?"
After a few seconds of teeth grinding, Helena turned her laptop around and shoved it to the snowy haired assassin.
"Fine. Have at it." Helena almost barked. She jabbed a finger at Dante. "You, I want to have a word with you…in private."
Dante groaned and pushed of his chair. "And I just got comfortable too."
"Make sure to pull your knickers up when you're done." Christie purred as Helena passed.
The blonde turned, red in the face, about to throw a tantrum. Dante came up behind and gently pushed her to the door. "Don't, just don't." He murmured to her. The woman resisted in voice only. She complained about Christie's vulgar mouth and such, the assassin ignored what Helena said exactly. Her body complied with his touch and her feet carried her to the door.
How sad, utterly under the spell of a man. Perhaps getting rid of the spoiled brat would be easier than she had realized with Dante in the picture.
"Too easy." Christie whispered and turned her attention to the laptop. She rolled her eyes. "Pitiful, I would be astonished if she could find anything on E-bay, let alone in DOATEC's mainframe." She raised her arms to crack her fingers and back. "Let's get started."
Dante almost expected a slap to come from Helena, but surprisingly none came. In fact she seemed almost cowed with his hand on her. Odd, but at least she had not caused a scene. After finding another room, one that held a grand piano at the center, he let her go. She held herself and turned away from him, shivering.
"Well?" Dante asked with crossed arms. "What's up? What is it?"
"How could you?" Helena almost sobbed. "How could you take her side?"
"Because she had a good idea?" Dante answered sarcastically. "I mean, I'm surprised she had one that didn't involve killing, but still."
"You know what I mean!" She flung around, tears streaming from her eyes. "You know what she is and what she's like. You…you're…"
"Just because I agreed with one idea she had doesn't mean I'm jumping ship, okay?" Dante felt like a father trying to calm his daughter.
Helena had to take some breaths to prevent herself from completely bursting into tears. "Damn it! Not this again." She sniffed. "I thought you said…that'd I'd get stronger."
"What? Kicking off the pills? Or us?" Dante waved his finger between the two of them. "It doesn't get better over night, babe. Like I said these things take time. I don't know all the details, but if I had to guess, I think yer gonna be a tad emotional for a bit, which to be honest isn't that much of a stretch for ya."
"Shut up!" Helena covered her ears, her eyes squeezed shut. "Just…shut up!"
"Okay, okay." Dante held up his hands. "Thought you could take a joke." Nothing was said for a moment; Helena still had her eyes shut. With a sigh, he tilted her chin to him. "Look, I'm with ya. Till the bitter end. Well, hopefully it won't be bitter, but you get the idea."
She smiled a painful smile before turning away again. "Thank you, but…" She swallowed before she continued. "I'm just…I don't know…what to do…I mean…what do we do…about us?"
"Us?" Dante said with faked confusion. "I didn't know there was an 'us'. I mean, I thought you wanted to use my body as a way to escape. Personally, I don't think of myself as a man whore, but you were in a desperate situation and I said to myself 'might as well take one for the team'."
Helena had an un-amused look.
"Sorry, forgot, this is a non jesting zone here." Dante motioned around the room with his finger.
"Damn it, Dante." Helena pushed away tears. "This is…new for me…I don't know what to do."
"What do you want to do?" Dante replied straight faced.
"I…I don't know."
"Do you want to pretend this never happened and go our separate ways? Because that's the norm for me. Although it's usually the chick who decides that for me."
"I don't…like that idea." Helena played with her ponytail. "It sounds…harsh. And cruel."
"It is." Dante faded briefly to his memories before returning to reality. "How 'bout we get married, settle down, and have little blond and white haired kids?"
Helena's eyes bugged at his statement. "Absolutely not! That's far too extreme."
"Alright, good." Dante cupped his chin. "How about this, we…"
"What is it you're doing?" Helena interrupted.
"Trying to narrow down what it is you want." Dante replied like it was no big deal. "You said you didn't know."
Helena huffed. "I know, but…this is happening rather quickly for me."
"No duh," Dante said. "Look, yer making this like we got engaged. Classic rookie mistake. You need to dial this down a bit. You don't need to make big plans, ok, you just gotta let it…do its own thing…I guess."
Helena arched an eyebrow. "Are you making this up?"
"Not until halfway," Dante scratched his scalp. "Look, I got nuthin', but what I want to know is if you regret last night?"
Helena looked at him with the eyes of a timid child, like she wanted to speak, but fear made her mute.
"I suppose that answers my question." Dante turned and left. His hand touched the doorknob when she found her voice.
"I didn't…" Helena almost squeaked. "I mean I don't. I don't regret it."
Dante nodded in understanding. "Good." Helena fell back into silence. "You stay here and collect yourself or whatever you opera stars call it. I'll see how Bond girl reject is doing." A small smile broke Helena's face, until Dante left the room. She cast her eyes up.
"Mère (Mother)." She softly prayed. "Ce qui fait je fais (What do I do now)?"
Christie knew it was Dante the second he came within ten meters of the room. The weight of his footsteps and the rustling of leather and metal gave him away.
"Hello, love." Christie said coyly. "I take it your chat went well?"
"Well enough." Dante replied deadpanned and slumped back into his chair. "Any luck with the computer voo-doo?"
Christie laughed. "My skills with the magical world of technology may be as spectacular as my other talents, but something like this is going to take more than a quick shag session with ice queen."
"So you know?" Dante asked rhetorically as he sunk back into his chair.
"I'm not surprised." Christie shrugged. "I mean, the only type of person who could get the starch out of her knickers was a hell-spawned demonic being." Christie smoothly said, never taking her eyes off the screen. "So tell me, were you the first to break her in?"
"A gentleman never brags." Dante put his feet up.
"Well there's a 'yes' if I ever heard one." Christie smirked.
"At any rate," Dante said uninterested. "I think you should lay off the ol' gal."
"Do you?" Christie said in equal disinterest. "Well, I think you've laid on the old gal once too many. Surprised your Jackson didn't freeze and break off in that ice cavern she calls a pleasure portal."
"You know what I mean."
Christie chuckled. "I do. And I reject it."
Dante did not respond.
"Listen, love, I know you like playing peace keeper between me and the frog, but this is something that's been a long time coming. She wants it, I want it, and it's going to happen, no matter what you do."
"Are we talkin' about a fight or you two fulfilling some erotic fanfiction?"
"Awww." Christie finally turned to Dante with a faux-tenderness and battered eyes. "Isn't that adorable? You're pushing for a threesome. My little boy's growing up." She took his chin and made kissy lips. "Don't you worry about a thing, I know plenty of nice girls I'm going to introduce you too that will be much better than that spoiled little brat."
"I doubt that." Dante muttered.
"That I'll get us girls?" Christie chuckled and let him go.
"That they're 'nice'." Dante rolled his eyes. "Anyway, there's something you should know about me."
"If it's your preferences, I think I have an idea or two."
Dante suddenly put himself an inch from her face. "Don't tell me what I can't do."
Christie caught her breath. She suddenly found herself back at the warehouse: the blaze from the wreckage, the smoke rising to the stars, and the inhuman thing that towered over her, defying her reality. Dante pushed off the desk and left. The snowy haired assassin tracked his movements even when he was not in the room, but with her body on full alert, like he would burst through the door and kill her in an instant.
"Wow." Christie huffed, trying to get her breathing back under control. "Almost forgot that feeling." She turned back to the laptop, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tingling between her legs.
Unknown Location
Saturday-9:10 p.m.
Trish twirled her hair at the end of her finger and blew out a breath of frustration. The golden haired demoness sat cross legged and rested her head in a hand.
"If your plan is to bore me to death, it's working." Trish called out, knowing that Gentleman was listening.
"I apologize for your lack of entertainment." The demon materialized outside her cell. "I'll try to see if I can obtain a puzzle or magazine for you."
"Get Cosmo." Trish replied, not entirely sure if the demon was being sarcastic. "I'm always looking for new ways to please me man."
"I'll see what I can do." The demon merrily replied.
Trish raised an eyebrow. "And another thing, what the hell am I supposed to eat?" Trish slammed a hand on her knee. "And where's the damn bathroom? What do ya expect me to do, go in the corner?"
"Not to worry, my dear lady." Gentleman bowed and tipped his hat. "Everything will be taken care of."
"I feel so much better." She rolled her eyes. "Listen, bud, I don't know what yer tryin' to pull with me and Dante, but I'm gonna give ya the best piece of advice. Just forget it and move on. Maybe you'll live an extra few years before we get around to deportin' yer ass back to the supernatural barbeque."
"I'm afraid that's quite out of the question, you see, that decision is not up to me to make." Gentleman replied. "But I have a feeling you won't be in such a…restraining predicament for much longer."
"What is this?" Trish got up, losing her cool. "What the fuck do you want?"
"This, my dear, is the climax of a tale that began long ago." Gentleman smile was getting creepy. "A tale that involved the father of the one you so pine after."
"Sparda?" Trish gasped. "But…how?"
"After the Legendary Dark Knight toppled Mundus, he helped the humans in their schemes to imprison those poor helpless demons that were left to fend for themselves." Gentleman brought a handkerchief up to his eyes. "Such horrible times. And those demons sat in their tiny cell, the years turning into decades. Decades turned into centuries. Soon the world they once knew is no more. Conquered by beings they had a rather…dim view of." Gentleman put the handkerchief away. "It would be like if the chickens rose up and toppled the humans."
"I'm sure Colonel Sanders would be seen as the messiah then." Trish groaned. "Look, douche bag, in case you haven't put two and two together I'm a demon hunter. I kill demons for a living. So you'll excuse if I don't cry for you Argentina."
"Your cold heart aside, the demons inside this cell have become…restless. And they want out. And what they want," Gentleman's smile became sharper, "is what I want."
"And why's that?" Trish leered.
"Well, my dear, we all have our masters."
Trish regarded the demon with an icy glare. "Speak for yourself."
"Am I?" Gentleman moved closer. "Aren't you Dante's pet?"
"I'm his partner, fuck-tard." Trish's voice dripped with poison. "And I'm interested to see if you'll keep that smile on your face after I jam my guns up your asshole and clean your colon out with 45. caliber rounds."
"You mean these?" Gentleman held up his hand. Her guns appeared above his hand, slowly spinning like planets orbiting a star. "Rather brutish weapons for such a dainty figure such as yourself." He dropped his hands and her guns vanished. "I also took it upon myself to fetch that cumbersome sword as well. To think you let the very symbol of Sparda sit in some hotel closet. Such a travesty. But when one gives gifts to a pet, one cannot be surprised to see the pet chew on it."
Trish slammed her fist into the barrier between her and Gentleman, causing a fireworks display as the energy tried to contain the demoness. Her fist could not pop the bubble. The smiling demon did not even flinch.
"Temper, temper, my good lady." Gentleman wagged a finger, almost laughing at her.
"Fuck my guns and sword." Trish hissed through a clenched jaw. "I'll rip you apart with my bare hands."
"Don't delude yourself. Think about it. The man whom you hold such an affinity looks at you and sees the mother he lost. Tell me, did you ever think the two of you would be together?"
Trish glared but did not reply.
"Perhaps he keeps you around like a child holds onto his favorite blanket. But sooner or later, the child grows up and discards the blanket." Gentleman put his face dangerously close to the barrier. "Eventually, he'll discard you too."
"When I get out of here, and I will," Trish put herself closer, "I'm going to remember what you said to me and I'll make sure your last moments on this world will be spent in blinding agony."
"All I hear from you are threats, dear girl." Gentleman replied. "But you have refuted nothing. Perhaps because what I have said is the truth. And we both know the truth can be…unpleasant."
Trish pulled away, still upset, and walked away. "Dante will come for me."
"That's why you're here, m'lady." Gentleman straightened himself out. "That's why you're here."
Trish sat back down, crossed legged, with her back to the demon.
"I shall return with the items you asked." Gentleman's tone became playful again. "Until then, m'lady." He bowed his and vanished.
Trish breathed unevenly, almost trembling. Don't cry. She thought. Not in front of him. He'll come. Have faith.
Elliot's residence
Great Britain
Saturday-9:54 p.m.
Sleep continued to elude Eliot. Bedtime was at 9:30 a.m. sharp, but recent events had his father loosen the metaphorical noose. He would have liked the freedom, how little he got, but thoughts about what was happening crushed any sense of relief. He fidgeted with a pencil at his desk. He had tried to get some of his summer reading list under his belt, but halfway through the first chapter of Moby Dick he had suddenly lost his ability to concentrate or retain the words he had just read.
He was home, safe and sound, but he did not feel relaxed. If there was one thing he had learned, with demons no where was safe.
His mind also wandered to the ninja sisters. He hoped they were getting along without him playing referee. Ayane was, of course, the real problem, but she could act composed sometimes. She had the fire in her to succeed in life, but as his father said, fire without control would lead to an inferno. A pity her martial arts training did not focus her mind.
He had never really met anyone like her before. The other English in the tournament, the woman Christie, had the energy, but she was far too…cold. He had only met a few of the other fighters, a few of them female, but Ayane was definitely a person all her own.
She was also his first kiss. He traced the edges of his lips with his hand. It was…odd. He expected his first kiss to have more…flare to it. Maybe he was thinking a bit too romantically. Still it was very…nice. He would not mind doing it again. Maybe with some…touching…
Realizing that his mind had wondered into places that made him…restless, Eliot returned to his reading. A knock came from his door. With a sigh he closed his book, giving up the entire endeavor, wondering if his father decided to enforce the bedtime rule.
"Enter." He called out.
The door opened and Miyako stepped in. Eliot, bewildered, shot up from his chair. "M…Ms. Miyako." Eliot stuttered.
"Calm yourself," she said in a hushed tone. "I wish to speak to you, if I may."
"Of, of course." Eliot made ready his chair for her to use. He never had a girl other than his mother in his room. She smiled, ignored his chair, and sat on his bed.
Miyako gave the boy's room the once over when she walked in. Eliot's room was a testament to his accomplishments and his parent's support. Trophies and medals from minor league sports, especially soccer, lined the shelves along with report cards and certificates from his school, teachers, and private tutors. His book shelves were jammed packed with college level school books, trigonometry, calculus, English and world history, and books written by old men about older men. His room was articulate, tidy…and cold.
Her daughter's room was not so different, but Kokoro had some signs of life. A fish tank with a rainbow of tropical fish, her own bonsai plant, pictures of friends and family, even one of her father. She had an urge to buy a plant or find some picture frames and go through his family photos. Such feelings came from over a decade of personally homemaking a mansion.
"Your room is very…nice." Miyako said hesitantly, still looking around the room. "I see that you have accomplished much."
"Thank you." Eliot said, blushing like mad. "May I offer you some water?"
"No thank you." Miyako patted the mattress. "Please sit." Eliot fidgeted, but took the seat, staring straight ahead. The Japanese mother fought down the sick feeling that climbed up her stomach and forced a smile.
"Are you…" Eliot trailed off, but he continued after swallowing. "Are you having trouble sleeping?"
"No…well, yes. It's why I want to talk to you." Miyako tried her best to keep her voice steady. "Eliot, do you know my daughter?"
Eliot nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I met her during the tournament. We never fought though."
"Yes. She participated in that tournament without my permission. But she did very well." Miyako eye's darted to the floor for a moment before she turned fully to Eliot. "Tell me, how do you feel about my daughter?"
Eliot's face became even redder. "I…I respect your daughter. She is strong and…very coordinated with her martial arts."
"I see." Miyako replied. "Well, let's move on, I need your help in a matter. And I ask that you keep what I said between us. Do you understand?"
Eliot hesitated for a moment before answering. "Yes."
Miyako took a deep breath. "I believe that Ayame may be holding something back from us."
Eliot turned his head, confused. "What? Why?"
"Before I met you two, I was with a man called Dante. He is a demon hunter. He knows how to defeat the creatures that terrorize us. How to put an end to all this insanity."
Eliot's attention was unbreakable. "Yes, I heard about Mr. Dante. I stayed at his home for a time with Ayame and her daughters. What is it? How can he beat them?"
"There are three enchanted jewels that are used as part of the ritual to stop the demons and I believe that Ayame knows where one of them is. But she is keeping it a secret."
"She is? But why?"
He believed her, which made the pain worse. "I don't think she is a bad woman, but I think that she fears that the ritual will have some repercussions. That someone might die. Fear can make people no longer see the truth."
"We have to talk to her. Tell her that her fears are misplaced."
"I've tried, but she's afraid of losing her children. And I know that as a mother, I would do anything to protect my child." Miyako bit her tongue. "But I know a way to get the jewel from her without resorting to violence."
"You mean…lie?" Eliot asked.
"I know, this might seem…underhanded. But it must be done if we want this to end." Miyako put her hand on his back and rubbed. She felt the muscles on his back tense. "Please. Help me."
Eliot furrowed his brow. His hands balled into fists. "Yes."
Miyako could feel her heart breaking.
Marller tapped her arm and yawned. She had tuned out what was going on in the house after they all went to bed at nine. Nine! Goddamn, how more boring could they get? Play scrabble at night? Scrap booking? Knitting? The husband barely kissed his wife good night. The boy had stayed up, but he buried his nose in a book. She had entertained the thought of slipping in and having her way with the boy, but she had to remain hidden. Besides, once she was done, Vergil never said that she could not have her fun after she got the jewel. And the boy was the only real threat, so…
"Good evening, my lady." A sing-song voice from the dark called.
Her Cait Sith's bristled and growled at the shadows and Marller cracked her knuckles. Her fingernails grew into fearsome claws.
"You again." She said coldly. "What do you want?"
"To make your day." Gentleman said as he materialized. "Because I have someone getting you the last jewel. If you're interested…" The demon let the statement hang.
Marller stared the green demon for a moment before she retracted her claws. "I'm listening."
Douglas' Sanctuary
Russia
Saturday-10:29 p.m.
The winds whipped the snow into a fog. The patrolling soldiers were bundled in thermal clothes and thick winter coats as they toted around AK-47s with scopes. All helicopters were grounded and all the cameras were worthless due to the storm, so the only eyes on the ground belonged to the men posted above, not that they could see much.
It was the perfect time for a sneak attack, but the soldiers did not give it much thought. They worked for a corporation, not the army. Corporate warfare was done with papers and meetings, not bullets and missiles. Even considering the recent attacks, who would target a private getaway home in the middle of the harsh tundra?
Four men walked along the fenced area, concentrating more on keeping themselves from freezing than making sure the perimeter was secure. The lead man stopped the group and pointed ahead. Two large wolves stood a few feet away, unconcerned about the cold. The men conversed in Russian, amazed that wildlife would be out instead of huddled together in shelter.
Another thing the perplexed them was how did they get inside the area? The entire airfield was surrounded by 12 foot tall fencing with barbed wire and five feet of reinforced concrete for the base. The fence had no gates as there were no roads going out, everything was flown in.
The lead man suddenly fell, a flaming arrow stuck to his back. The others raised their rifles, looking for the attacker. Their eyes registered three bodies already upon them, but could do nothing as rusted blades tore through them. Other squads ran into the same fate as the attackers used the snow as a cloak, stealthily eliminating their targets before slipping back into the white void.
The movements of the attackers were contradictory. When they attacked, they did so with a white hot fury, a hatred that gripped men's souls. But when they moved on, walked away from the bodies towards the entrance of the facility, it was mechanical and soulless. The wind and frost did not affect them, but the cold did not affect the dead.
Bolverk moved through the gapping hole in the fence flanked by two Pillagers with flaming crossbows at the ready. Too easy. These humans were used to warring against each other. They were defenseless against the demonic. They already had the airfield and the surface secured without incident or alarm.
The Dark Knight had lead troops into war more times than a human could grasp, but working with the Army of the Fallen was different. The troops he once commanded had honor and pride, they were real. These walking corpses on the other hand were just blank slates. They did what they were told without question or hesitation. They had no experience to draw upon, no opinions to offer, no emotions other than rage. They marched into the fiercest battles without pause, but that was not due to courage, they just did not feel fear. Still, they were useful.
-Find the women. Kill them and anyone who dares stand against us.- Bolverk commanded. –But not the son of Sparda. His life is mine.-
Dante groaned and propped a boot upon the plush opal colored couch, trying to get comfortable. He wanted to have his old couch that he broke in. He had propped Rebellion against the wall next to him.
The French woman had called in her sister for a private talk, most likely to pop the question about her and DOATEC. Knowing the two, a good two hours of jabbering was a given, which meant he had some time to himself. A pity he had nothing to do. No television, no video games, and just recently no alcohol, thanks to Helena's insistence. Apparently going on a drunken bender was frowned upon unless you are the boss.
A pillow suddenly thumped him over the head. The offending pillow was yanked away before he could grab it. Christie stood over him, wearing her silver cat suit, grinning and tossed the pillow onto the couch.
"What was that for?" Dante asked, running a hand through his hair.
"For being a lump." She fell into a nearby matching chair and crossed her legs. "And boring."
"I'm out of bed and I'm dressed, what more do you want from me?" Dante growled.
"So," Christie melded into the chair, "can't think of anything to do, eh?"
"I thought about cruisin' the net for porn, but that 'click here if you over 18' thing always confuses me."
"It's a conundrum." Christie said dryly. "So, Ms. Helena is still having her heart to heart with her baby sister?"
"Pretty much." Dante sighed. "Although I doubt they'll start doing each other's hair and play truth or dare."
"It's funny. A young sheltered spoiled French girl is asking a younger sheltered spoiled Japanese girl to take over a multi-billion dollar international corporation." Christie shook her head. "It's so pathetic that I would feel bad laughing at it."
"It's all a matter of perspective I guess." Dante said.
Christie regarded Dante with cool eyes. "I suppose the boyfriend should defend his girl."
"Me and Frenchy aren't boyfriend and girlfriend." Dante rolled his eyes.
"Then what are you?" Christie's voice made Dante envision a cougar prowling.
"Who knows?" Dante shrugged. "After all, I thought we were going study."
Christie caught the sarcastic edge in his voice. "Well, I was debating on whether I should start picking out a wedding dress, but then I thought it was a bit premature." She said as sarcastically as he did. "But you're in quite a cock up. Shagging two women who want to kill each other." She tsked and shook her head. "Whatever will you do?"
"I was thinking about a compromise." Dante cupped his chin. "Something that involves mud or pudding."
Christie did not respond, but the look on her face made Dante weary. She was not angry, but almost like she was mulling the idea round in her head.
The tension broke when Rebellion started to hum with crimson energy. Dante reached out and flicked the sword with his index finger, making it inert once again. "You got any guns?"
"Just this." Christie slipped out a M9 pistol. "Only thing I could get past the guards. Helena had them do a rather…thorough search." Christie smiled would have sent shivers down a normal man's spine. "Pity while they were copping feels I was picking wallets. My next shopping spree is on them."
"Cute." Dante snatched Rebellion and pushed himself off the couch. "But yer gonna need more than a pea shooter."
"I know where the armory is, I can make a quick stop." Christie got up as well. "I'm guessing something bad will happen soon."
"Nope." Dante slung the sword over his shoulder. "It's already happened."
The dull thud of gunfire came from above. An alarm breached their ears along with a voice screaming in Russian over the intercom.
"He's say we're under attack." Christie said. "By…something. He's not making any-"
The overhead speakers suddenly made a screeching noise that caused Christie to flinch, followed by wet, gurgling sounds.
"How soon can you get to the armory?" Dante asked.
"Getting to it? 70 seconds, tops. Getting in? If this card I plucked from one of the guards doesn't work, a while, maybe ten minutes."
"Get there. Load up. And get to Helena. I'll do what I can." Dante started walking off. "I know you two want each other dead but I'm pretty sure you don't want someone else doing that for ya."
"You don't have to remind me, love." Christie cooed. Soon her footsteps faded as she sprinted down the hall.
The Russian soldiers, to Bolverk's surprise, were quick to retaliate in an orderly fashion. He had heard of the Russian iron will in their armed forces, even after the fall of their former government, but he did not expect them to fight so ferociously or with such precision. After the shock of their attack had worn off, they had reorganized quickly and began to cut off the advance at the choke points of the facility. But in the end, they were mercenaries, not true soldiers. And mercenaries had more concern over wealth than in serving a greater cause. They still fell like any other human.
Bolverk motioned for his Ravagers to move forward to a makeshift machine gun nest the soldiers had set up at the end of a hallway. The soldiers had used grenades against the clusters of troops he sent in but they had run out and they were cut off from the others. Humans had created some very peculiar and very deadly weapons, but all weapons had their weaknesses and Bolverk had already identified their weakness, they were only deadly with ammunition. And another weakness he discovered, the humans had neglected their close quarters combat expertise. Knives were a poor substitute for swords and axes.
When he sent the Ravagers in, the humans had started reloading the big gun. They had attempted to defend their position with small arms fire. But they could not stem the tide of demons. He heard the screams and the attempted retaliations, but soon he heard nothing but the lumbering march of the Ravagers.
Despite a few set backs, everything was going according to plan. Soon the base would be purged of the humans and the French woman would lie dead at his feet. All he had to worry about was the youngest son of Sparda.
Freki and Geri started to whine. They smelled the half-breed nearby.
Dante did not have to look far for a fight. A quartet of walking skeletons in decaying armor with hand axes, swords and shields had burst through a door, baying for blood. Dante sliced through the lead demon without trouble. The other two had tried to attack Dante while his blade was still in their comrade. Dante had let go of his sword, letting it dig into the wall, whipped out Ebony and Ivory and blasted the two demons in their faces with .45 calibur rounds. As the two fell, the forth had slipped behind Dante for a sneak attack. Without missing a beat, Dante had curled his arms behind him and squeezed off the last few rounds into the demon, causing it to stumble back. Dante tossed the guns into the air, yanked Rebellion from the wall, and jammed it into the demon. He hoisted the skeleton over his head and slammed back to the ground, shattering it like a cheap plastic toy.
"Great, these guys again." Dante groaned and placed his sword on his back. He had tangled with Ravagers before a few times, but they were always disorganized, sometimes they even fought amongst themselves. He had a feeling one of his brother's goons was now in charge of them.
He snatched his guns when they fell, ejected the spent clips, reloaded, and jammed them back into their holsters.
He walked down the hall and saw the aftermath of the demons aggression. Dante stepped over bodies and spent ammo cases. His boots squelched as he stepped in blood and organs. The smell that invaded his nostrils boiled up feelings that made him remember why he became a demon hunter in the first place. A lone Ravager hacked away at a hunk of meat that was once a body. The demon snapped his head to Dante, its body heaved like it was out of breath, even though it had no lungs. The hollow sockets burned with a rage that was never quenched and hatred that transcended time.
"Awww…is boo upset?" Dante asked. The thing screeched in an unholy voice and charged. Dante blew its head off. "Get the fuck over it."
He stepped over the fallen beast without a second look. The hallway fed into a larger room full of bodies, human and otherwise, almost ankle deep in liquid. Dante briefly wondered just how many people Helena had stationed here. Then lights flickered and died.
"Must've gotten the power-"
The lights flashed back on and Dante found himself surrounded by Ravagers and their larger cousins, Carnagers. They screamed and roared at Dante, clanging their armor and weapons, creating a hurricane of noise that shook the walls.
"Great, it's like I'm at a death metal concert." Dante sighed and cleaned out his ear with a finger.
The demons in front of him moved to let someone through. The screaming continued as a lone figure emerged from the darkness and stood in front of Dante.
"Well, there he is, the man of the hour." Dante clapped. "Been wonderin' when you'd show up, I was getting' tired of schoolin' these dead heads."
Bolverk raised his spear and pointed it at Dante.
"Ok, you wanna another beat down?" Dante shrugged and grabbed Rebellion. "Fine by me. Bring it."