Dante said nothing but sat down. Arson had already stormed out of the house. He sighed and cradled his head, his mug of coffee lay forgotten in front of him, the steam rising out and spiralling towards the ceiling. Dante was at a loss. With Arson refusing to fight, who could he possibly ask to help? A sudden idea entered his head. He rose slowly, and walked out of the kitchen, passing Trish as he made his way to the main office.
He started riffling through several sheets of paper, cursing when he thought he had found what he was looking for, only to find that it was wrong. Trish watched him curiously. At last, her curiosity was unable to contain itself.
'What are you doing?'
'I'm looking for a number.'
'Who's number?' Dante didn't answer. At last a thin smile flitted over his features. 'Where's Arson?' Dante's smile vanished.
'Oh, him. He's gone.'
'Did you tell him what's going on?'
'Yes.'
'What did he say?'
'He said he doesn't want to fight with us.' Trish gasped in disbelief.
'What?'
'Yeah, I know. Damned kid.' Dante walked past her again, a piece of paper safely in his hands. Trish looked at him curiously and then went to the files that she had been sorting out for him. Sure enough, they were all in disarray. She frowned but then her eyes widened as she saw the missing slip of paper.
'He's kidding, surely?'
Arson had returned to his apartment, glad to see that the door was locked and that it was empty. Xyphos was out somewhere, and right now, he didn't feel up to talking to anyone. His body suddenly seemed to feel heavy and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. He dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down on the bed, closing his eyes as he nuzzled against the pillow. However, after a while he grew restless again.
He sat up again, bored out of his mind. He looked around, wondering what he should do. At last, his eyes fell across the present that he had not yet opened. The present from Trish. He smiled faintly as he saw this, and half of him argued that what he had just said to Dante was wrong. After all, if he wasn't going to fight, Trish's life would be in danger too. And if they all died, he would be the only one left. Could he really do that? Let them all die if their plan backfired? He didn't think so. But almost immediately these thoughts turned to dust. Dante was an expert. He was perfect at everything he did. Battling, studying, training. Dante managed to do it all with such focus. Dante would be able to see them all through. Nothing wrong could possibly happen with him around.
Arson suddenly realised that he was filled with resent. He wanted to have a go at playing the hero. He wanted everyone to respect him a much as everyone respected his grandfather. But what was the point of that? Wasn't that exactly what he wanted to avoid? He didn't want to fight anymore, but yet if he wanted to have the same respect as Dante, he would have no choice but to fight. He felt so confused.
He sighed but then took the parcel in his arms. It was heavy, surprisingly heavy. Arson at first tried to neatly unwrap the package, but Trish had been too devious when she had wrapped it up. He grinned, childish excitement flooding his senses as he happily ripped off the paper, abandoning his usual belief in tidiness. After all, it was Christmas; he could allow himself to make a bit of a mess for once. It wasn't as if he couldn't clean it up afterwards.
Discarding the mass of wrapping paper, he stared down at the square white box on his lap. He curiously opened it up and gasped when he saw the contents that lay inside.
An obsidian gun lay in the pristine white of the box. Arson lifted up the pistol in his hands, amazed by how light it now felt. He turned it over and over in his hands, shocked at it's deadly beauty. It was similar to Dante's gun, Ivory, but yet there was a small phoenix engraved on the barrel. A holster also came with it, it lay in the box still. Arson was filled with sadness and then anger.
Why had Trish bought this for him? Had she simply assumed too that he would simply fight without thinking? Well in that case, they were both wrong. Arson appreciated the fact hat Trish had got him a present, but not the fact that again he was being used as a tool to fight. Who said that he had to take over the business? Maybe he didn't want to. But had anyone ever given a damn about him? No. Never.
He got up from his bed and walked outside, tired of staying indoors. It was still dark outside. He sighed as he walked, seething inwardly with frustration and anger. Why couldn't they understand?
Dante slammed the phone down and then shrugged into his red trench coat. He passed Trish by again, without even a glance in her direction and slammed the door closed. Trish frowned after his retreating back but then tensed up as she felt a demon presence.
Dante knew where Arson was. His life signal was strong. As to why he was still walking about, he had no idea, but he could sense that the demon he had sensed just now was moving towards him. He only hoped that Arson would use his common sense and get out of there before anything happened.
It's short. I know this. But I had the worm blaster thing. _ Not only that but I also deleted my work by mistake too. ^_~;; Not very smart of me, no? Ah well…the next chapter will be longer, I swear it! Toodles for now. I should be working on HITH or my other fic…
Well you've read it! Now review it, please?