Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, but they will. Oh, they will. Muahahahahaha!
Mission 3: RevivalThe stiff stone joints of the statues were beginning to scrape into life. And of course I was just lying there, bleeding like a damned stuck pig.
I could hear the tapping of Trish's heels coming toward me though I never caught the sight with my vision clouding from blood loss. I felt her cold hands clamp around mine.
"Dante! What do I—"
"Alastor. Get Alastor," I managed to choke out. Once again there was the sound of her running, now punctuated with the crackling sound of the marble men beginning to move. These were immediately followed by the pressure of Alastor being lain across my chest. I stumbled my hands over the handle and clutched my fingers around each other.
The surge of energy was felt almost immediately. The grip of thunder rushed through my body and clutched at my demon heart. My vision not only cleared but it sharpened to that of a hawk. I could feel the flesh around my wound absorb my spilt blood and seal itself, the muscle continuing to expand past normal size. My burnt skin rippled and transformed to a hard armor. My once shattered shoulder blade had fused and was branching out from my body into large bat-like wings. My pure sight filtered purple from the storm cloud that emanated from my own quickly beating heart. Alastor had saved me and engulfed me.
I jumped to my feet but stayed on them for a second. I swept my powerful wings and rose into the air.
The grim soldiers of stone that had menaced us from the beginning had now come upon us. From the very energy around me I drew Ebony and Ivory. They too, had undergone a morphogenesis. They're gleaming metal shells had been replaced with a layer of organic stone that slithered lovingly over my hands as I aimed.
I pulled back their triggers and fired they're new power. Each shot didn't fire a bullet, but rather bolts of forking lighting. Every crooked beam tore away into many, striking back the dozens of statues that were surrounding Trish, every impact surrounded by the sound of shattering boulders.
The many angelic devils turned their attention toward my air raid. Their loss of concentration proved fatal for one when a stiletto heeled boot clothed in bright yellow energy connected with the side of its face, chipping away half of it's head. Trish's trigger had snapped and her guns had been drawn. She fired a rapid barrage of devil power tracers.
Puffball collective.
I pulled my eyes away from Trish and brought my thought to my own task. I aligned my sights with a single devil.
"Feh. I wish all of you minions I'm always fighting put up as much of a fight as your bosses," I mocked, my voice altered by Alastor's steely overtones. The creature cocked its head to the source of the taunts. Their slow moving monotony vanished in a second, it's stone legs sprung into action. In a blink it sprinted forward and leaped up to my height.
Suddenly his hand shot out and clamped down round my ankle. As he fell he drug me down through the air. I flapped my wings frantically, struggling against the weight of the foot soldier. He landed swiftly on the floor and begun to fling me about like a rag doll. All became a blur. He released suddenly and I was left to flail as I headed toward the wall.
I squeezed my eyelids tight and put the first set of motions I could think of into play. I pumped my legs, as if to run. To my surprise I didn't feel the sudden aches of being slammed into a wall and slumping down against the floor. All I felt were my rapid foot falls. I flicked open my eyes and glanced around.
I was running on the wall. I pushed myself away from the wall near a corner, twisted my body upside down and worked my legs on the ceiling. A sudden realization that I had unconsciously aimed my weapons at the devil that had thrown me. Bolts of hot revenge flashed out of their chambers.
I slowed my run and I found myself falling toward the ground. Instead of my boots hitting the floor they balanced on the shoulders of a startled angel demon. He ran and flailed, knocking several of his own to the ground where they were easy targets for Trish and myself. I felt the marble warrior I was standing on reach up and grab me just below the knee. So he felt Ivory's barrel pressed against his rock-filled rock of a head. Then he felt nothing ever again.
I moved from the corpse over to Trish. We each looked toward the last living creature, which pressed himself nervously against the wall. I sent Alastor out on a round trip, and all was a spray of glittering scarlet glass.
Trish breathed a sigh of relief and her devil trigger subsided. Alastor released his grip on my body and I was once again Dante.
I looked down at my hands, shaking. My father had been stolen from me.
"Come on Dante. Let's collect these orbs."
"Sparda…"
A/N: Did I mention this fic is meant to connect the first and second games? Well there you have it, the death of Ifrit and the gain of two of his coolest new abilities.
