Dante doesn't belong to me. He belongs to Capcom. That's the first and last time I'm saying that.
Now... ON WITH THE STORY!!
~*~
Dante sat alone in his leather chair, contemplating lonely tendencies. He had his feet propped atop his desk and the TV volume turned down low. He glanced at his watch. It was time to leave.
~*~
The silver-haired man stepped into the smokey bar, alight with barely working lamps. There was a lesbian couple in the corner on each other's laps and drunken men screaming senselessness at a TV. An aging man that smelled like alchohol at behind the counter, wiping off a shot glass. A stripper was making rounds at tables, with dollar bills tucked into her bosom. The corner of Dante's mouth twitched. He'd definetely seen worse places than this.
Spotting his client alone at a table, he set himself down in a chair and gave her one of his famous glares that could melt butter. The girl, passive and unphased sat there in silence for a moment.
"I think there's something odd happening at the church."
"What are you, a nun?" Dante asked, smirking slightly.
"A shelter worker," She snapped.
"Delia, is that all the shit you're willing to give me?"
The blonde sat up a bit, making her blue highlights shine in the light, something that Dante gave care to notice too. "An eight year old child ended up dead in an alley way looking like someone had ran a chain-saw through him."
He twitched. How very odd it was for a demon to attack something like that, "Which church?"
"I already gave you the address, didn't I?"
Dante nodded and got up, over his shoulder he tossed, "I want the bill by Wednesday."
~*~
A small girl was sitting in an alley way, with her chin resting on her knees and her eyes half closed and a wad of bills curled in her hand. She was pretending to sleep, keeping alert while she waited for what she wanted.
'Won't be long, will it?'
~*~
Dante sped down the streets, tearing through the city. It was already one o'clock in the morning and Trish would be waiting for him. Over the past few months, thw duo had been talking the evil seas of hell's armies that terrorized the streets of Manhattan. Yes, ironically, a demon hunter also poised as a part time journalist. The proposition made his friends laugh sometimes, even though he had only a small smatter of them.
He cranked up the volume on his stereo, the band AFI pounding on his windows.
"There's no two ways, you're a disgrace.
Drown down your fear, suffocate every spark of clarity.
Your weakness: sickens me, saddens me, strengthens me.
There's no way to free responsibility.
Who's to blame? Who's in the wrong?"
He nodded his head slightly to the beat, letting him lose himself in the music as he sped down the freeway.
~*~
Trish stood in the doorway, listening to Dante explain the details of their next assignment.
"By a church? Jesus fuck that's weird." Trish said as she yawned.
"Poor babe, you tired?" Dante asked, looping his arm around her.
Trish scowled and leaned her head against his chest, "Don't call me babe, damnit."
'It was like some sort of Russian dance' Dante thought to himself as he saw Trish's sultry look.
He moaned softly as he felt her hand run across his chest and closed his eyes, 'Life's not so bad this way,' he thought as he lowered his head to her. 'Not bad at all.'
~*~
The girl stood outside the window as she watched the man and woman touching eachother while leaning over the desk. Her face was sullen and worn, with the falling rain streaking her pale skin. It was getting cold, and if she didn't finish up soon, there'd be real trouble.
~*~
Arkadi stood on the sidewalk, her skin starting to cover with thick, cracked armour that melded into her flesh. It burned, but she felt not a thing. She had run out of tears and pain long before.
Wings exploded from her small backl, ripping human skin. The large regalness of the black leathery skin stretched to span the building. When she was done her transformation, she stepped forward, raw energy spurring in her veins.
Flinging open the door, a small ball of heat was formed in her hand, and she cast it without thought towards the lovers.
Snapping back into human form from the exaustion, she sped back down the street, running as fast as her size four feet could carry her. The only thing she was thiking was that fourteen year olds should not be carrying out assassination missions.
Before she could even turn the corner, she stumbled and fell. Well, not stumbled, more deliberately pulled to the floor. A large man had his hand on the back of her throat. Arkad swore and bit his hand, and jumped to make her escape. She stopped dead in her tracks when a woman stood in her way.
She slowed her breathing. Two regular humans. She could them with a wave of her hand.
"Dante, what do you think?" The blonde asked snidely.
The man named Dante said nothing and simply glared at her with an intense look. Arkadi stared right back.
"I want to know why you did that NOW." Dante demanded.
Arkadi smirked, returning the same badass look Dante was emenating. This was gonna take a long long time.
Now... ON WITH THE STORY!!
~*~
Dante sat alone in his leather chair, contemplating lonely tendencies. He had his feet propped atop his desk and the TV volume turned down low. He glanced at his watch. It was time to leave.
~*~
The silver-haired man stepped into the smokey bar, alight with barely working lamps. There was a lesbian couple in the corner on each other's laps and drunken men screaming senselessness at a TV. An aging man that smelled like alchohol at behind the counter, wiping off a shot glass. A stripper was making rounds at tables, with dollar bills tucked into her bosom. The corner of Dante's mouth twitched. He'd definetely seen worse places than this.
Spotting his client alone at a table, he set himself down in a chair and gave her one of his famous glares that could melt butter. The girl, passive and unphased sat there in silence for a moment.
"I think there's something odd happening at the church."
"What are you, a nun?" Dante asked, smirking slightly.
"A shelter worker," She snapped.
"Delia, is that all the shit you're willing to give me?"
The blonde sat up a bit, making her blue highlights shine in the light, something that Dante gave care to notice too. "An eight year old child ended up dead in an alley way looking like someone had ran a chain-saw through him."
He twitched. How very odd it was for a demon to attack something like that, "Which church?"
"I already gave you the address, didn't I?"
Dante nodded and got up, over his shoulder he tossed, "I want the bill by Wednesday."
~*~
A small girl was sitting in an alley way, with her chin resting on her knees and her eyes half closed and a wad of bills curled in her hand. She was pretending to sleep, keeping alert while she waited for what she wanted.
'Won't be long, will it?'
~*~
Dante sped down the streets, tearing through the city. It was already one o'clock in the morning and Trish would be waiting for him. Over the past few months, thw duo had been talking the evil seas of hell's armies that terrorized the streets of Manhattan. Yes, ironically, a demon hunter also poised as a part time journalist. The proposition made his friends laugh sometimes, even though he had only a small smatter of them.
He cranked up the volume on his stereo, the band AFI pounding on his windows.
"There's no two ways, you're a disgrace.
Drown down your fear, suffocate every spark of clarity.
Your weakness: sickens me, saddens me, strengthens me.
There's no way to free responsibility.
Who's to blame? Who's in the wrong?"
He nodded his head slightly to the beat, letting him lose himself in the music as he sped down the freeway.
~*~
Trish stood in the doorway, listening to Dante explain the details of their next assignment.
"By a church? Jesus fuck that's weird." Trish said as she yawned.
"Poor babe, you tired?" Dante asked, looping his arm around her.
Trish scowled and leaned her head against his chest, "Don't call me babe, damnit."
'It was like some sort of Russian dance' Dante thought to himself as he saw Trish's sultry look.
He moaned softly as he felt her hand run across his chest and closed his eyes, 'Life's not so bad this way,' he thought as he lowered his head to her. 'Not bad at all.'
~*~
The girl stood outside the window as she watched the man and woman touching eachother while leaning over the desk. Her face was sullen and worn, with the falling rain streaking her pale skin. It was getting cold, and if she didn't finish up soon, there'd be real trouble.
~*~
Arkadi stood on the sidewalk, her skin starting to cover with thick, cracked armour that melded into her flesh. It burned, but she felt not a thing. She had run out of tears and pain long before.
Wings exploded from her small backl, ripping human skin. The large regalness of the black leathery skin stretched to span the building. When she was done her transformation, she stepped forward, raw energy spurring in her veins.
Flinging open the door, a small ball of heat was formed in her hand, and she cast it without thought towards the lovers.
Snapping back into human form from the exaustion, she sped back down the street, running as fast as her size four feet could carry her. The only thing she was thiking was that fourteen year olds should not be carrying out assassination missions.
Before she could even turn the corner, she stumbled and fell. Well, not stumbled, more deliberately pulled to the floor. A large man had his hand on the back of her throat. Arkad swore and bit his hand, and jumped to make her escape. She stopped dead in her tracks when a woman stood in her way.
She slowed her breathing. Two regular humans. She could them with a wave of her hand.
"Dante, what do you think?" The blonde asked snidely.
The man named Dante said nothing and simply glared at her with an intense look. Arkadi stared right back.
"I want to know why you did that NOW." Dante demanded.
Arkadi smirked, returning the same badass look Dante was emenating. This was gonna take a long long time.