HALLOWEEN. EVENING.
One by one, they charged after him. Relentless, ruthless, furiously they tore away anything tbat stood in their way with their formlessly solid claws as 57th Avenue transformed into a long, narrow junkyard. About as quickly as they plowed through the street in their pursuits did they change form. At first they were merely a thick shroud of black, shapeless like clouds and formless like haze. Then they became humans; rather, shadows of humans. Their shapeless black fogs collected into the forms of human bodies, defined and separated as independent identities.
Their count began to increase as well. First, two. Then,three. Then, four. And as these human shadows took shape, and as these shadows dashed their legs across the pavement, sharp angles began to protrude from their backs. Their hands melded into longer, finer points and blades. Their shoulders broadened. Glowing red eyes began to burn furiously on their heads. And all the while, the things that grew out of their back formed even larger geometries that made what were unmistakeably as wings.
The shadow men became shadow-beasts. And as they drew closer towards the man with the green eyes, they leapt silently into the air, taking flight, while the others tapped the asphalt below them. A car stood in the way of one particular beast, which shortly took flight and collided against the side of the building as the beast tossed it out the way as if it was nothing. All four of them were silent, but it was obvious what their purpose was - to destroy the man that stood in front of them.
The man with the green eyes snorted, his long red trenchcoat billowing behind him.
"Let's rock, baby."
As the first of the four rapidly approached him by foot, he instantly leapt into the air, elegantly flipping his body as he went over the beast. Still in the air, he drew his silver and black pistols from their holsters and began to breathe life into them again. They kicked back rapidly as sparks after sparks of yellow shot at the shadowy monster.
----------------------------
HALLOWEEN. EARLIER.
"Dante? Please wait here. The good Doctor will be with you shortly."
Dante nodded affirmitively. "Busy with another client?"
The secretary made his way towards the large set of red doors that closed the main office behind them. "Just surfing the Astral Plane, making sure the forces of darkness don't threaten our realm of existence."
Raising an eyebrow, "He does this often?" Dante asked.
"Just the daily grind for him, you know? Besides, today is the day of darkness. Speaking of which," the secretary opened the red doors and stepped into the office. "Help yourself to some candy. Just remember to leave some for the kids later on tonight." The secretary disappeared into the darkened room, the red doors shutting behind him.
Dante leaned against the wall next to his sword which was leaning next to him. Crossing his arms, he waited patiently as he began to reflect on the case he was currently cracking.
The facts so far: New York sucked. The city was too high on itself to be gritty, too pretentious to have character. New Yorkers were too facetious, superficial, bitter, jaded, or just plain stupid to tolerate. On top of that, they sold five-dollar hot dogs. Not to mention that Dante had no idea just how he would go about continuing the case in the first place.
Dante had nothing invested in this case, and his return would have been minimal. He wouldn't have been here in New York had it not been for the particular way his client convinced him to hop aboard on what he had just now dubbed the "Shit City, USA" case.
"Please, these people don't deserve this," his client said to him two days ago as he stood in front of Dante's desk, in the Devil May Cry office.
"Why should I get involved then? Or, for that matter, how can I trust you?" Dante retorted. "You're a soldier of Hell. You can't even use my front door right. Anyone tell you that the sun-roof is NOT a legitimate entrance?"
His client smiled. "You're clever. Fast. Just like your father."
Dante stood up from his seat surprised. "You knew my father?"
"Heh," Ultimar muttered. "Sparda and I used to fight together milennia ago. I was there with him even up to his insurrection."
"Then . . . why are you still alive?"
"I was one of his close allies that did not partake in his decision to stand up against Azazel himself. However, once Sparda began openly fighting against the forces of Hell, I was also one of his close allies that refused to hunt him down when our dark Lord ordered it. Thus, as you can probably deduce, I am still a mere grunt rather than a powerful overlord that I should have been by now."
Several moments of silence passed between Dante and Ultimar, as both of them lowered their heads and sighed in remembrance.
"Why are you doing this?" Dante asked, finally breaking the silence. "Why, after so long, are you defying your lord again? And why me?"
"Because, Son of Sparda," Ultimar began, raising his head to stare at him. "I've seen Sonata's designs and served his petty thirsts and desires while he was still a mortal." He sighed deeply. "His plan - this plan, is so destructive. So wrathful. So powerful that it has even made Azazel's eyes glaze with glee. And all this for what? Because some foolish third-rate mortal from ages ago wants vengeance over petty rage? Anger? Simple wrath over glutton?"
Ultimar nodded his head. "No, these mortals do not deserve this. I can no longer see Hell's plans be executed over petty reasons. I can no longer partake in this. And I do not desire to see these designs go through.
"And I asked you because only you can stop them."
The question he needed to find out now, was where to continue, how to stop them from -
"Dante?" addressed the secretary, emerging from the red doors.
Dante raised his head to glance at him.
"Dr. Strange is now ready to see you."
One by one, they charged after him. Relentless, ruthless, furiously they tore away anything tbat stood in their way with their formlessly solid claws as 57th Avenue transformed into a long, narrow junkyard. About as quickly as they plowed through the street in their pursuits did they change form. At first they were merely a thick shroud of black, shapeless like clouds and formless like haze. Then they became humans; rather, shadows of humans. Their shapeless black fogs collected into the forms of human bodies, defined and separated as independent identities.
Their count began to increase as well. First, two. Then,three. Then, four. And as these human shadows took shape, and as these shadows dashed their legs across the pavement, sharp angles began to protrude from their backs. Their hands melded into longer, finer points and blades. Their shoulders broadened. Glowing red eyes began to burn furiously on their heads. And all the while, the things that grew out of their back formed even larger geometries that made what were unmistakeably as wings.
The shadow men became shadow-beasts. And as they drew closer towards the man with the green eyes, they leapt silently into the air, taking flight, while the others tapped the asphalt below them. A car stood in the way of one particular beast, which shortly took flight and collided against the side of the building as the beast tossed it out the way as if it was nothing. All four of them were silent, but it was obvious what their purpose was - to destroy the man that stood in front of them.
The man with the green eyes snorted, his long red trenchcoat billowing behind him.
"Let's rock, baby."
As the first of the four rapidly approached him by foot, he instantly leapt into the air, elegantly flipping his body as he went over the beast. Still in the air, he drew his silver and black pistols from their holsters and began to breathe life into them again. They kicked back rapidly as sparks after sparks of yellow shot at the shadowy monster.
----------------------------
HALLOWEEN. EARLIER.
"Dante? Please wait here. The good Doctor will be with you shortly."
Dante nodded affirmitively. "Busy with another client?"
The secretary made his way towards the large set of red doors that closed the main office behind them. "Just surfing the Astral Plane, making sure the forces of darkness don't threaten our realm of existence."
Raising an eyebrow, "He does this often?" Dante asked.
"Just the daily grind for him, you know? Besides, today is the day of darkness. Speaking of which," the secretary opened the red doors and stepped into the office. "Help yourself to some candy. Just remember to leave some for the kids later on tonight." The secretary disappeared into the darkened room, the red doors shutting behind him.
Dante leaned against the wall next to his sword which was leaning next to him. Crossing his arms, he waited patiently as he began to reflect on the case he was currently cracking.
The facts so far: New York sucked. The city was too high on itself to be gritty, too pretentious to have character. New Yorkers were too facetious, superficial, bitter, jaded, or just plain stupid to tolerate. On top of that, they sold five-dollar hot dogs. Not to mention that Dante had no idea just how he would go about continuing the case in the first place.
Dante had nothing invested in this case, and his return would have been minimal. He wouldn't have been here in New York had it not been for the particular way his client convinced him to hop aboard on what he had just now dubbed the "Shit City, USA" case.
"Please, these people don't deserve this," his client said to him two days ago as he stood in front of Dante's desk, in the Devil May Cry office.
"Why should I get involved then? Or, for that matter, how can I trust you?" Dante retorted. "You're a soldier of Hell. You can't even use my front door right. Anyone tell you that the sun-roof is NOT a legitimate entrance?"
His client smiled. "You're clever. Fast. Just like your father."
Dante stood up from his seat surprised. "You knew my father?"
"Heh," Ultimar muttered. "Sparda and I used to fight together milennia ago. I was there with him even up to his insurrection."
"Then . . . why are you still alive?"
"I was one of his close allies that did not partake in his decision to stand up against Azazel himself. However, once Sparda began openly fighting against the forces of Hell, I was also one of his close allies that refused to hunt him down when our dark Lord ordered it. Thus, as you can probably deduce, I am still a mere grunt rather than a powerful overlord that I should have been by now."
Several moments of silence passed between Dante and Ultimar, as both of them lowered their heads and sighed in remembrance.
"Why are you doing this?" Dante asked, finally breaking the silence. "Why, after so long, are you defying your lord again? And why me?"
"Because, Son of Sparda," Ultimar began, raising his head to stare at him. "I've seen Sonata's designs and served his petty thirsts and desires while he was still a mortal." He sighed deeply. "His plan - this plan, is so destructive. So wrathful. So powerful that it has even made Azazel's eyes glaze with glee. And all this for what? Because some foolish third-rate mortal from ages ago wants vengeance over petty rage? Anger? Simple wrath over glutton?"
Ultimar nodded his head. "No, these mortals do not deserve this. I can no longer see Hell's plans be executed over petty reasons. I can no longer partake in this. And I do not desire to see these designs go through.
"And I asked you because only you can stop them."
The question he needed to find out now, was where to continue, how to stop them from -
"Dante?" addressed the secretary, emerging from the red doors.
Dante raised his head to glance at him.
"Dr. Strange is now ready to see you."