She's into superstitions
Black cats and voodoo dolls
I feel a premonition
That girl's gonna make me fall ...

Upside Inside Out
She's livin' la vida loca
She'll push and pull you down
Livin' la vida loca
Her lips are devil red
And her skin's the color of mocha
She will wear you out
Livin' la vida loca
She's livin' la vida loca
~Livin' La Vida Loca, Ricky Martin

Luce ed Ombra
Chapter One

Shades of Black
[By Ultema and Guo ]


The hours had passed that night. No faster than any others, nor any slower. It simply passed. The clock ticked away, and the crowds thinned out until the skulking shadows of the office workers in corners were all that were left, and eventually even they vanished from sight. The sound system ceased, the strobe lights turned off, and silence was the only thing between the glass of the office, and the far-reaching walls of the inner rooms. Outside, the mist hung thick around lampposts that cast single beams of light to the damp ground. Only the occasional rattle of a garbage can lid, the mew of an alley cat, and the sound of tires against wet cement filled the evening air.

After his alarm clock failed to ring (most likely due to his lack of having one,) Dante was just about "on time" as he neared the meeting place, but he wasn't about to show himself just yet. He had planned on arriving much earlier, and staking out the place like a private eye. But instead, he decided on sticking to hanging around behind the garbage cans. Normally he didn't mind being seen by the occasional whore walking around as the relatively large sword holstered on his back just tended to keep people away, anyways.

Looking out from the shrouded alley like on an espionage mission, he peered towards the corner, looking for the Portuguese eye-full, Isabella. Surely, even if she showed with others, he was confident in his abilities. The garbage facility next to him seemed to be a bit less cooperative, and shifted as he leaned against it. Ah well, if it proved to reveal his location, he could always break it ... He wasn't exactly planning on hiding for much longer anyways -- just enough to see if she was indeed, alone.

Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.

A dwindling tendril of smoke curled into the windless air, traced easily back to a white stick stuck between a heavy pair of lips, balanced quite skillfully on the bottom one. A pair of heels seemed to glitter and dance with each puddle stepped in, a strange flittering crimson color that shifted about the feet of a long-legged figure dressed solely in wet-looking rubber. She was a familiar sight, and quite alone without so much as a weapon visible. Just the Zippo in her left hand to account for anything other than a lithe form that could have easily belonged to a gymnast.

A perch was taken against a nearby lamppost; the light shining heavily down upon the top of a cinnamon-haired head with traces of copper highlights interwoven with each strand. Her long, thin shadow disappeared into the darkness of the alley from which she had just emerged, both hands crossed over her chest with the occasional removing of the cigarette from intensely cared for lips.

It was good enough for him. Dante gave a slight shove to the rusted hunk of metal next to him, and approached the feline-esque shape of a woman. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her against his will, and it was something he was going to have combat. Feet creating splashes in the same puddles that she graced, he didn't speak or anything else besides his presence let her know he had arrived. He was still quite attentive however, the nap actually proved useful.

Without even noticing he let out a slight sigh of intoxication, though not of alcohol. Approaching the only nice looking sight in the entire city at this time of night, she seemed to out of place -- even in that "outfit". He couldn't stay silent to her much longer, and, oh yeah, there was business to attend to. A flick of his hair gave off a small shimmer on the shadowed side of the nearby building, and those lemony sapphire eyes stared ahead in interest with a matching grin.

The young woman didn't acknowledge his presence for a moment or two, even as he ambled his way towards her through the puddles. The red glow of the ashen end of the cigarette held between index and middle finger of the right hand was disposed of with a quick flicker, before the filter end was placed back into her mouth. It was only after this that her vision shifted to focus on the red-clad man; bright forest eyes fixed on his form, the lights above playing off their damp surface to a glitter.

"Sanitation duty?" the Portuguese accent questioned, cigarette once more pulled from her lips, head turned and a curling tail of smoke slid in serpentine motion from between them, and was soon after dropped to be extinguished in a puddle below her. She nodded off into the general direction of the garbage can, and shifted until her bare shoulder rested upon the cold metal lamppost. Perhaps it was obvious now that she had matching tattoos on her shoulders. They looked like a pair of eyes that stared forward apathetically.

"Well, at least you came ... " Siren. That was the word that was used to describe a person like this -- the shadows that were cast over her, blacked out a portion of her body, but there was still that out of place light at her feet.

No defensive posture was taken, even with a set of eyes that didn't come with her lovely face. Nah, Dante was too cocky and knew all too well about the type of people that came to visit him. He had no proof other than his own intuition that something was up. Why else would he be invited to such a place? In fact, he made a slow pace back and forth, head cocked.

"And now that I have, what exactly can I do for such a beauty?" He couldn't resist even the slightest chance to compliment her, and without much more than a wink, he was advancing towards her again. He just never gave up.

" It seems as though I've lost my cat..." The woman's expression rang outwardly of utter seriousness, and as he moved to her, her thin frame removed itself from the support of the pole and advanced until she was but a foot away from crashing into the red-clad figure. Her gaze never leaving that of his, shadows shifted over the both of them, and she sought out his attentions as though they stood on equal planes in all respects; from height to importance. She didn't seem to have an issue about personal space, either, since his was nearly all but violated.

"Do you like cats?" What a silly question. She was more or less asking him to be the animal control agency now? Well ... maybe. But the high-pitched whine of something other than human was easily distinguished against the otherwise silent backdrop of the scene. The floating pair of red orbs also contributed to what appeared to be the sudden lack of human in the darkness.

Dante's head was originally moving in a cocked back position, obviously emphasizing his amusement of her request. However, his bemused expression was quickly replaced by a look of confusion, and subsequently, concern. The pants he wore made a slight squeaking sound as his leg drew back for just a moment. There was something odd going on, that he knew, he just wasn't sure when the situation would reveal itself -- now was obviously that time. Before even one step was taken backwards, he had lifted himself back to a normal stand, edging forward just slightly with a hand reaching upwards to brush the chin of scantily clad woman that was nearly on top of him.

"Oh I think kitties are great... " extremely sarcastic as always, but this time he was showing his discontent. It was obviously some sort of a trap -- floating red orbs don't exactly come across as a friendly gesture, especially with her proving to be the one that set him up.

No matter to him though, he was at least partially used to this, and the looks of the one in front of him easily made up for her odd and deceitful tendencies. His eyes, while looking directly into hers for the most part, wandered to the orbs and surrounding area of them, perhaps to get some sort of read on whatever it was. He was always on guard and ready for action, even if most of the time he just seemed to be a careless jerk. His other hand took a position near the gun resting on his hip, but wouldn't draw. He'd wait for anything, and would much rather concentrate on ... her ...

Though silken feeling below his fingertips was fairly cold; the warm touch of his own flesh seemed quite welcome by a hand clad in fingerless gloves, tapering to the oval red fingernails. Despite the frigid sheen of green eyes that locked quite easily upon Dante's own, there was a tenderness that failed to escape the grasping of his own hand. Isabella was smart enough to know he expected something, though; much less to say for those he probably faced before.

Pursing the pair of heavy lips in the lamp light, a gentle breath blew through them, and the orbs of red seemed to melt downwards into the cement below, before creeping up in a dark streak that slithered up the Portuguese siren's leg, spiraled around the attenuate limb, circled about her abdomen and slithered up to her arm, then fingertips all in the split second between heartbeats; and now, two red eyes stared impassively face to face with the platinum haired man, before a mouth complete with a pair of enormous fangs coiled open, hissing. The woman on the other hand, took half of a step backwards with this, bracing herself.

A smirk swept over the man's face -- not what he suspected, and impressed to say the least, "I don't doubt those cute fangs there hurt, but I'd much rather feel yours." Dante teased, not taking a step back though, instead his fingers flicked the holstered gun, Ivory, on his right side into his grip and proceeded to twirl it once before holding it directly in front of the jaws threatening him. The other hand was obviously thinking about drawing the other -- perhaps to the face of the opposing female,

"But I'd prefer to not have to disfigure that pretty little face of yours, babe." He stood perfectly still, waiting ... he wasn't one to strike first, especially against something so attractive to him.

"Do try if you feel the need. It's not worth my time to see you back down, Hunter." Ah, so she DID know. That was probably obvious, though, really. The fanged creature retracted into its vicinity, before leaping fully at the armed one's face - this time however, it seemed to have stopped completely in mid air, only for its black and violet swirl of a body to take the form of what appeared to be a dagger. With little warning thereafter, the creature flung itself at its target, while at the same time the young woman seemed to fall back and vanish into the shadows of the street - though she watched on with keen eyes as the diminutive beast attacked.

As the relatively small creature jumped at him, Dante sprung backwards, shooting a solitary bullet directly into the mouth of the beast before it began to spin, obviously not slowing it down a bit. A small gap appeared in his mouth, but the determination in his eyes easily overcame this look of bewilderedness. All weight placed on one foot, he used all his lower body strength to propel himself into a roll and narrowly avoid the, blade ...? It seemed all very surprising -- but not strange to him. A shoulder was bruised, and back scraped, even through the shiny material covering his torso, as the bumps in the cement hindered his roll.

The other gun was drawn and a continuous line of bullets was sent towards the small beast through alternating of triggers. He wasn't about to continue this sort of fight in the city though. He made his way back to where the other had retreated, and while he only knew the vicinity of where she was, he figured it was worth looking for her, what seemed to be the source of this beast.

No words, however, instead, just a kick or shot towards wherever he thought she might be hiding. The shadow beast was most likely already about to attack again, and with attention being placed towards the female, the young man's guard couldn't have been nearly the same level as it had been when he was actually expecting such an attack. It seemed almost as if he provoked it, odd for him... Well ... Maybe not really with his, I'll- break-you-if-you-don't-talk attitude.

The sound of something growling, small pools of black congealed along the ground before a pair of garbage cans were tossed in the Hunter's general direction. From out of the darkness darted that familiar female figure, dropped shoulder first along the ground as the blade slammed itself into the cement after the other leapt away. A slender hand retrieved what was the hilt of this weapon; the beast's tail, and continued with the roll as though she were fighting on sand. The ease of movement along a deeply blackened ground was ever so fluid; not a mark coming to her flawless complexion as she fell upright.

Spidery digits splayed gently across the ground, she was parallel with it. One knee pressed into the wet cement below, the other leg extended out to the side, and the other hand grasping what looked like a dagger dripping with black. Apparently the feline beast was also used as a tangible weapon, as well. It was in this pose that she locked herself, motionless as though a statue, just green eyes boring towards the other.

Taken by surprise, the red clad one tripped and crashed once again with the wet concrete, this time catching himself with ... his ass. It seemed as though the ground was the most comfortable place for the both of them. His guns were quickly placed back into the resting area on his hips, and his sword was drawn in a very slow manner for the pace of the fight, which had just been cut down to zero by off-beat-fighting-club woman over there. Dante smirked as his weapon was twirled -- a common occurrence it seemed, cockiness was an obvious pitfall of his, but it hadn't stopped him yet.

"Don't you think you should put that down and just keep us both as pets?" Ooh, the witty one, wasn't he? No more fooling around from her, it seemed. His boots pressed against he ground and his stance showed to be a bit of an aggressive looking one.

The shine of his hair reflecting the moonlight created the only glare in the area, so it seemed. It also told of his actions; as the light traveled upwards, so followed his body towards the other, arms preparing a strike to show off his strength to the 'little lady' ... or whatever her and that beast were.

Dante's arms rose above his head and pulled downwards in a diagonal motion, right hand traveling from the left shoulder towards the right hip of his adversary, and any area in between. Whether it would hit her, the beast, or either was a good question since it wasn't really aimed towards either of them in particular, strength and balance being the only key factors in the attack.

"Maybe. I've always wanted a man on a leash." A wry smirk came to cross over the woman's lips, wet hair clung to tanned visage. She was treating this more like a joke than any sort of serious battle, it seemed. Not expecting this advance, but ready for it nonetheless, the black-clad figure shifted her weight, pushing herself backwards with a tightening grip around the hilt of the shadow beast-dagger. For a brief moment, the weapon flared with a noir substance, and elongated slightly in length. While it was nothing in comparison to the blade that the other had, it was wielded fluidly and with ease as though it were designed for her.

Drawn up with one hand, the weapons intercepted each other - grating of steel against -- shadow? Unfortunately as things would have it, his force coming down was far superior to hers going up. At the collision, her arm jerked backwards, and against the black top she was sent skidding. Clothing tore as her back collided with the ground and moved along it with grinding force, and blade was lifted from grip and flung off into the shadows somewhere - though the sound of four paws hitting the wet surface replaced the clatter of a blade, and she was already starting to get up for more.

It took a moment for the hunter to regain his composure after his strike, even if it had been somewhat successful. A small adjustment to his hair as his blade was lifted to be placed back into it's place upon his back, but just before it was set to rest, his eye caught sight of her ... getting to her feet. His eyes widened for just a short moment along with a brow rising just slightly. She was certainly an odd one. His sword was once again drawn, but this time he stood still. His front boot slid forward into a puddle, and a small shimmer of light reflected around his cold looking face. No words were spoken on his side, just a soft grunt of astonishment -- this chic didn't seem like all that tough of a person, but there's something to be said for the fact that she's wielding a shadow of a cat in a formidable way. The young man's eyes could be seen shifting around even when obscured by his champagne hair -- he seemed slightly worried.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that the weapon could be roaming around on it's own, and perhaps attack him on it's own. His eyes were once again fixed to the black garbed female, and a slight twist in his lips showed a man who both enjoyed danger, and was slightly intimidated by someone he'd least expect to be.

Odd as she may have been, Isabella was already on her feet again, and without a weapon in her hand. The twist in his visage offered a relaxation of her own it seemed, and with a single fluid motion pressing forward into space, she lunged towards the red-clad man; the tears of her clothing posing not to bother her.

Red eyes hung back in the shadows, however, the creature sat solemnly below the lights to watch its wielder as she moved in swiftly. A deft movement of her left hand flickered it into the air, and thrust the appendage forward as she closed the gap between the two. And yet still, her expression was playfully harmless, but the elongation of pretty red fingernails was something completely different. Faster than her body moved, the lengthened claws aimed themselves towards no particular destination on her opponent's body, but much like the strike he posed towards her.

"You're calm, hunter. I like that."

There was no gun drawn, as well as a lowering of his sword in preparation to stop her with a punch to her stomach, Dante wasn't nearly prepared to protect himself from the stabbing claws of hers. This done, due to being in sheer surprise of her lunge without any visible armament, although the "sweet"-talking man would probably say he refused to seriously injure such a beauty (he'd probably have to get a new set of morals if that was the case). Without such a guard, he not surprisingly stabbed in some of the areas the nail happened to find on his being. His reaction time was perhaps the only thing which could save his face from being completely skewered as he pulled himself down sideways -- as for the rest of his body... His hand remained fixed on his sword, and strength still in his arm, no thought even being given to the guns, not when she was near him anyways.

But he managed to move in time, as those claws seemed to nip the very ends of his coat as he moved downwards and away. It was as though metal had been shot through the concrete below, as the claws collided with the blacktop, a cold chink sounded, followed by what seemed to be the sheathing of a blade, and two hard heels falling onto the surface below. That didn't stop the woman from following up, though. Instead the opposite hand wound around some of the free flowing cinnamon hair at her shoulder.

A group of strands found themselves twirled about a pair of attenuate digits. Without a second thought, her thumb shifted against the strands which immediately detached themselves from the rest of the hair and formed a glistening point; a needle shape that was quickly drawn into a wielding position, and thrown as though a miniature javelin, towards him.

" Oh come on now -- do something! Don't go easy on me because I'm a girl."

Scrambling to his feet, Dante and moved away from her again. She had a plethora of weapons which he couldn't have even imagined. Debating drawing his gun to deflect the needle coming towards him, it seemed unlikely that he could have shot it with such precision. His sword was brought up to deflect it from his heart, which whether or not it was, seemed to be the intended target. Amazing aim.

A piercing sound was made as it instead flew to his upper shoulder in a diagonal path. A small splurt of blood was visible, as his breath became heavier, visible and audible now as well. He smirked in response to her little play on words .... He doubted she was a girl. But whatever he thought, he made a dash towards before leaping directly at her with his sword, lunging it towards the center of her chest, however the strength and commitment to his blow was not all that it could have been. He still seemed to be holding back slightly,

"Don't think that you'll get special treatment just because I'm kind of taking to you." He said with a pant, after he had already come down towards her.

By now, Isabella was looking somewhat disappointed with the other's performance. She knew of her own strength, and while a great deal of her attacks relied on wiles and cunning as well as swiftness, she would have been no match for the strength of the other. The next blow was a good sign, but certainly lacking in terms of commitment, as was easily read by the Hispanic young woman.

Just as the blade drove homeward, she moved. One lunging side-step, and she had allowed the sole of her boot to fall flat on the whole of his shadow. Both slender hands cupped by her hip, and into existence formed a blade of black, shaped and crafted in the same general design as that the Hunter wielded. The rest of her weight following through to draw her other foot around, the two now ended up standing back to back - he visibly winded, while she had yet to show sign of fault. The shadow-blade was merely held, humming in position.

"I know you are capable of more than this, hunter. Otherwise, I wouldn't have wasted my time seeking you. Or perhaps I was wrong for once... and maybe I should put you out of your misery ... " And now, the playfulness fled from her voice. A deadly articulation of words, and it seemed the games were over with.

" It's a shame, though. I enjoy the sound of your voice." Not turning around, the young man took a quick deep breath. His wound no longer bore any blood, in fact it had stopped just after it was inflicted.... his breathing while quite visible, did not mean he had no energy left. Surprisingly, it seemed as though his body recovered much quicker than the average person, but then again, as the woman had stated, he wasn't quite that. A soft chuckle was offered as smirk climbed to his face yet again,

"You're pretty impressive, but you're even more arrogant than me." Well, that comment was doubtful, and his blade would definitely have to prove that he actually had some skill... especially if he wanted to keep his date for the night.

Dante pulled his sword from the ground with a sharp movement, spinning around was necessary due to the force of his pulling and weight of the sword, as well as having a desire to actually face his opponent. A horizontal slash was made during this spin that was intended to, although not aimed directly at, to meet with the shadow of his own blade, which, while he had not seen, he had felt it's humming. That was not the end of his attack, whatever the consequences of his blow were.

His body was already in what seemed to be a practiced motion. A swift upwards slash made by winding his arm behind his back, and striking with all the force he could muster in one arm. He was no longer afraid to slash at her -- her powers were much more than what he had believed and the threat to his life was becoming all the more apparent; he'd just trust that her powers were sufficient to save her body for a nice bite to eat afterwards, or something. That smile stayed on his face for the duration of his attack, which appeared to just be moving into another phase. He surely had a few tricks up his sleeve.

This was what Isabella wanted to see. Not taking the moment to think twice about defending herself, the shadow blade was risen to protect the soft human flesh of her body, but as expected his physical strength was indeed superior. The rotation and force of his own blade against hers knocked her hands sideways, forcing her forward somewhat before the deft upwards motion of his weapon was met with the sound of splitting clothing and flesh under its force. For a moment, a slight amount of panic flushed over the black-clad form of the young woman, feeling the solid ground below her feet disappear and her thin frame launched into the night air.

An audible sound from the force, her grip on the shadow blade loosened to nothing, and mid-air it seemed to shatter from existence. From the contact point at her side, a deep crimson, almost black lurched from what was now a gaping wound at her side, before she felt the cold black top once again, this time on her back in collision upon landing, but all the same a smile had formed across black-stained lips. Just as quickly as the deep crimson flooded over her, however, was it that it seemed to rewind in time, going back to which it came, and nothing but a hole in her clothing remained - flesh smooth as could be. However, the shock against the ground was enough to leave her stunned for a moment.

Red orbs rose in the shadows again, followed by several other pairs of gleaming crimson orbs in other locations. A distinct, low growl resounded in the darkness.

As Dante's body was about to move into another stabbing motion, he couldn't help but notice the red orbs, as well as a sound similar to large, angry ... beasts. This didn't seem to be leaning in his direction, but of course he kept his shit-eating grin. Next to his eyes came the sight of her regeneration. What was is, another like me? he thought.

His attacks ceased for the moment, however he was in no way ready to surrender ... merely checking all the courses of action he could take. His red leather coat was pushed out of his way, as the wind blew from behind him, and he advanced forwards ever so slowly, cautiously.

"You're quite the surprise now, aren't ya? What else can I do for you tonight, I'll keep adding holes if you like."

"Heh. Maybe some other time -- " A slender, feminine hand rose as several creatures, perhaps four times the size of the first began to creep into the light, their eyes glimmering with impassive hue. At this signal, they stopped and sat in their places. Shifting her weight around until she rested with her side to the ground, the risen hand placed on her head, Isabella shook it for a moment to get rid of the dizziness that came with the body of a human. Her other hand rose to swipe across her lips, no longer stained in black 'blood', before peering up for a moment from her place on the ground. She already knew the stories of this man, but had to see it for herself. She was sure, had she the patience to carry on with this, that she would see much more impressive action from him, but for now this was good enough.

Without waiting much longer she stood up again, brushing off her ripped clothing and kneeling down to fetch the smaller black creature that had slinked in from the shadows, cradling it as though it were your ordinary housecat, and stroking it under its chin. When she was at her full height again, she offered a cockeyed glance towards the white-haired man, and a nod of respect - a smile still playing across her lips.

"It's a pleasure, hunter. And what you can do for me tonight, can be better discussed in my home. " She paused in thought for a moment, before offering a somewhat half-hearted chuckle in his general direction. "And this time, no surprises for you. I've seen what I wanted to see -- but one thing." Always one more thing, wasn't it? Isabella shifted again, this time to fully face Dante, canting her head gently to the side, and offering a nod towards his sword.

"Your swing is a little slow..."

Dante stopped mid stride. The look on his face altered to some form of annoyance and intrigue ... An odd combination, but look at the source. He could only eye the beasts, and subsequently ignore them. She seemed like she was actually getting down to business now. A toss of his hand in one direction to show his acceptance of what she had put him through... though in truth it was just for show. The sword lowered at his side, and soon sheathed on his back he offered,

"The name's Dante... I hope what you show me is as good as this was..." A smirk to her chuckle, and he was back to his old ways -- he didn't keep many grudges against people who would be paying him ... In one way or another. He gave but a quick nod disregarding her comment on his swing, and stared at her with his head cocked to the side. He laughed as he held a hand out allowing her to lead the way to her house.

"We'll see..."