Quick little minute...
hey everybody, thanks for the reviews! They're always appreciated!Something doesn't seem to ring true to you,let me know, i'll tweek the story for you! Special thanks to PK, as always an awsome source of inspiration. Enough talking! Read! Enjoy!
One other thing...happy dance...I think we've just hit the half way point in the story...so...well... yay!
Well the basement needs to be remodeled, Dante thought. The place was a dump and the cadavers in the morgue hadn't been cleaned out in a while. The smell alone could peel paint. Had to take the top floor the selfish bastard, Dante pushed past a broken pipe that was hanging broken from the ceiling, couldn't possible take the basement. Not Verg, of course not Vergil, he had to lose a human of all things, to a cult of raving lunatics. There were rats too… Dante stepped on one crushing it's small body beneath his boot. Damn flea bags, they were almost as bad as cats. At the end of the hallway, two guards stood. Jackpot.
"Hey boys, this where the party's at?" Dante walked up casually. They both stood with their arms crossed, faces neutral. Standard bouncer cliché, give or take the clown face paint and wiry frames.
"Do you have an invitation sir?" The man to the left asked him after a moment's hesitation. He had mime face paint. The quality of hench men was going down these days. Where had all the class gone?
"Sure thing." He whipped out Rebellion and held it a millimeter from the man's exposed throat, the metal streaking silver liquid before coming to a halt. Dante smirked. "How's this?" Then they were at it. Dante had to give them credit, they were faster than they looked. They actually took him by surprise for a moment when the second man-his face was painted in the standard bozo clown style-was suddenly behind him. He would almost go as far to say they had almost stood a hell of a chance. Almost, until he figured out their overly simplistic fighting pattern. Idiots. Seriously, where was the class these days?
Dante did a single helm breaker on the man behind him, throwing him down before throwing him back up in the air again. By then the other was reacting. He lunged, a small switch blade in hand. The sheer stupidity of it made Dante hold still. Smirking he let the guy stick him with it. They both looked at the small blade embedded in his chest before looking at each other, eye to eye. Dante raised an eyebrow.
"Here, let me show you how it's done." Dante lashed out with Rebellion. He repeated the same jabbing motion over and over, then finishing it off with a final thrust that sent the bozo hurtling into the wall. By then the other clown was getting up, Dante didn't even give him a chance. Turning, Dante threw him in the air again and held him aloft with Ivory and Ebony until there was nothing worth holding up anymore. Dante surveyed the pulpy gore left over. They hadn't been human, they'd been full blooded Vampires. The vampires were in on this too? He should have known, seeing the Empress here. Dante pulled the little knife out of his chest and flipped in into the concrete floor. He kicked the doors open that the clowns had been 'guarding'.
It was a room at the base of spiraling tower the 'hospital' boasted of, it looked like a pit of hell. In the center of the floor an operation table stood, bloodied, it smelled like human blood for the most part, and well used. Dante surveyed the place. Actual human flesh-presumably belonging to the same person who had done the bleeding-was nailed to a portion of the wall, decorating it with some kind of symbol.
He didn't like the look of that. There was writing on the wall, accompanied by verse after verse of writing, also composed of human skin. It was an archaic demonic tongue from the looks of it…very old, Dante didn't even recognize several of the characters, which was unusual to say the least. There were very few demonic tongues Dante didn't know of. It was hard to believe the delicate and intricate runes came from a human body.
Dante moved closer to the operating table, taking everything in. He hoped like hell Lor hadn't come to this room, although seeing all this justified her friend's fears, not that any fear of The Order was unjust. The smell in this room made his nose twitch. The cabinet in the corner smelled worse than the cadavers. No doubt there was enough subduing medication in there to knock out even a full blooded demon.
Operatation scalpels of varying sizes were laid out on a tray next to the operation bed. Every single one of them were well used and crusted over with dried blood. Absent mindedly, Dante picked one up, studying it in the faint light. It smelled like Vergil's little friend. That damn idiot…how could he have been so careless with something as fragile as a human? Dante took a step backward, surveying the scene before him anew, managing to step on something soft in the process. Damning rats… Ebony was pointing down at the ground and fired off, before he even bother to look down at what it was he was shooting at. Looking down he saw it was a messenger bag, it smelled like Vergil's little fair skinned friend as well. The spoils of war were lacking, Vergil had better find that human girl or so help him, he'd wish he'd never come back… Dante shouldered the bag, choosing to ignore the blood stained equipment and headed for the door.