HALLOWEEN. 9:30PM. HELL'S KITCHEN.
"This is it?"
"This is it, Devil-boy."
Dante slowed his bike to a halt and killed the hum of the motor while Daredevil landed onto the sidewalk on his feet, facing the current address they both were pursuing.
"This was an old brownstone," Daredevil said, "built back in the 20's. Used to be a private-run psychiatrist clinic. It's been constantly revamped, but almost always faced problems internally." Daredevil cringed his nose slightly at the stench of old brick, dust, and decaying wood that emanated from the building. "Place was condemned just last year as soon as the owner died, and the city plans to tear it down. Eventually"
Dante dismounted the bike and stood next to Daredevil, also looking at the five-story building before them. For lack of a better word, the building was dilapidated. Each of the windows were boarded shut. The building's supposed brick red was now a darkened, weathered crimson, with extreme grayish-red watermarks stretching from the edges of building's trimmings that resembled blood. The steps that led up to the double-door entrance was also faded dark, and the doors themselves were bolted with three metal bars holding them from prying open.
"Is this really the place?" Daredevil said, raising his head to catch any signs of life or activity from inside the building. The building replied with a creepy, resounding silence. "This place is a tomb."
Dante made his way up the steps to the bolted doors and unsheathed his sword. "You know those hairs that are sticking up on the back of your neck?"
"Actually, no," Daredevil replied.
"Aren't you the courageous one."
"No, just fearless," Daredevil cracked with a grin.
"Well then, trust me on this," Dante said. Gripping the hilt with two hands and raising it above his head, Dante thrust the blade through the metal bars, splitting all three in two as they sprang away, freeing the double doors. "New York should have taken this baby down while they had the chance." He kicked the double-doors in, echoing a thunderous boom inside the building and throughout the neighboring block outside.
As the silver-haired man stepped into the darkened building unhindered, Daredevil made his way up the steps but stopped short of the entrance when he felt some lines of bumps on the soles of his feet. Crouching down above the bumps, Daredevil ran his fingers through them and realized they were inscriptions on the concrete, albeit worn and weathered from the years. Running through the lines back and forth, he read:
The sheep haunted by the dark are the sheep welcome into the shephard's home
"I don't think you should come in here just yet," Dante uttered from inside.
"Huh," Daredevil said, standing up and making his way past the doorway. "Why the hell can't I -
"ARRRGHHH!" Heat. Flame. Singing, burning heat. His blood felt like it was flash-boiled. It was as if thousands of needles pierced Matt's skin all at once. It was as if he had been dipped into a pool of acid. It was enough for him to stagger back violently away from the door, landing on his back as he tried to fan the flames from his body.
Only, there were no flames. And as soon as he fell away from the doorway, his body began to cool back to normal.
"Damn it," Dante spat, as he spun around to face Matt . . .
. . . when the doorway, and everything else in front of him, engulfed in black, curtained in shadow.
"Shit."
------------------
You do not belong here.
Your blood is not our blood. Your blood is not tainted.
You are no predator. You are prey.
You are no demon. You are peasant.
Those words rang through Matt's head moments before a lean, cougar-like monster lept out of the building and towards Daredevil on the ground. Instinctively, before the shadowlike cougar-monster could land its claws on him, Matt raised his two feet and kicked it away behind him. Wasting no time, he sprang to his feet and leapt into the air just as the creature charged past him, launching his billy club at the nearest lamppost and swinging away from the building.
Gracefully landing on the sidewalk across from the brownstone, Daredevil faced the monster across the street and tried to "see" his new opponent. The monster was virtually invisible to him - no heartbeat, no signs of heat, no sounds of muscle or bone pulling its joints inside of it. Matt only knew it was a cougar, cat-like creature from the inaudible wind that blew through the street. From the tapping noise its paws made against the ground as it crept towards Daredevil. From the burbling sound he heard below his feet.
Burbling sound?
"Shit." Daredevil leapt away as a narrow, tall, sharpened column shot up from below, narrowly gouging him into two. Daredevil flipped in mid-air as another pike shot up towards him, and as he landed on the ground bounced into a cartweel as a third narrowly missed its skewer.
Daredevil launched his billy club towards the creature, but to no avail - the creature dashed away moments before it was struck. The cable retracting the club back together again, the creature suddenly charged at Matt, covering a dozen yards in what seemed like milliseconds.
"Fast," he muttered.
One of the rarest moments in his life had just struck him - the overwhelming feeling that he was in over his head.
-----------------------
You do not belong here.
Your blood is tainted. Your blood is not black.
You are no wolf. You are a dog.
You are no demon. You are a bastard being.
You are not welcome.
"That's great to hear," Dante said, as in the dimly-lit room, four shadow-like cat monsters surrounded him. The door from which he came was covered and shut in black. "Does that mean no punch and pie for me?"
Get out.
"You guys going to tell me where Sonata is, or am I going to have to slay it out of you?"
Get out, Son of Sparda.
"The hard way. Always has to be the hard way," Dante sighed.
------------------------
HALLOWEEN. ONE HOUR AGO.
. . Dante fell onto the ground, beaten and defeated in the middle of the chamber.
Standing over Dante was his opponent, whose pale-white hands were engulfed in flames of blue, whose ghastly-white, pupil-less eyes steamed glowing blue, whose pitch-black overcoat blew back behind him as he summoned the flames of blue to grow more potent.
One of the rarest moments in Dante's life had just struck him - the overwhelming feeling that he was in over his head.
And his opponent grinned.
"This is it?"
"This is it, Devil-boy."
Dante slowed his bike to a halt and killed the hum of the motor while Daredevil landed onto the sidewalk on his feet, facing the current address they both were pursuing.
"This was an old brownstone," Daredevil said, "built back in the 20's. Used to be a private-run psychiatrist clinic. It's been constantly revamped, but almost always faced problems internally." Daredevil cringed his nose slightly at the stench of old brick, dust, and decaying wood that emanated from the building. "Place was condemned just last year as soon as the owner died, and the city plans to tear it down. Eventually"
Dante dismounted the bike and stood next to Daredevil, also looking at the five-story building before them. For lack of a better word, the building was dilapidated. Each of the windows were boarded shut. The building's supposed brick red was now a darkened, weathered crimson, with extreme grayish-red watermarks stretching from the edges of building's trimmings that resembled blood. The steps that led up to the double-door entrance was also faded dark, and the doors themselves were bolted with three metal bars holding them from prying open.
"Is this really the place?" Daredevil said, raising his head to catch any signs of life or activity from inside the building. The building replied with a creepy, resounding silence. "This place is a tomb."
Dante made his way up the steps to the bolted doors and unsheathed his sword. "You know those hairs that are sticking up on the back of your neck?"
"Actually, no," Daredevil replied.
"Aren't you the courageous one."
"No, just fearless," Daredevil cracked with a grin.
"Well then, trust me on this," Dante said. Gripping the hilt with two hands and raising it above his head, Dante thrust the blade through the metal bars, splitting all three in two as they sprang away, freeing the double doors. "New York should have taken this baby down while they had the chance." He kicked the double-doors in, echoing a thunderous boom inside the building and throughout the neighboring block outside.
As the silver-haired man stepped into the darkened building unhindered, Daredevil made his way up the steps but stopped short of the entrance when he felt some lines of bumps on the soles of his feet. Crouching down above the bumps, Daredevil ran his fingers through them and realized they were inscriptions on the concrete, albeit worn and weathered from the years. Running through the lines back and forth, he read:
The sheep haunted by the dark are the sheep welcome into the shephard's home
"I don't think you should come in here just yet," Dante uttered from inside.
"Huh," Daredevil said, standing up and making his way past the doorway. "Why the hell can't I -
"ARRRGHHH!" Heat. Flame. Singing, burning heat. His blood felt like it was flash-boiled. It was as if thousands of needles pierced Matt's skin all at once. It was as if he had been dipped into a pool of acid. It was enough for him to stagger back violently away from the door, landing on his back as he tried to fan the flames from his body.
Only, there were no flames. And as soon as he fell away from the doorway, his body began to cool back to normal.
"Damn it," Dante spat, as he spun around to face Matt . . .
. . . when the doorway, and everything else in front of him, engulfed in black, curtained in shadow.
"Shit."
------------------
You do not belong here.
Your blood is not our blood. Your blood is not tainted.
You are no predator. You are prey.
You are no demon. You are peasant.
Those words rang through Matt's head moments before a lean, cougar-like monster lept out of the building and towards Daredevil on the ground. Instinctively, before the shadowlike cougar-monster could land its claws on him, Matt raised his two feet and kicked it away behind him. Wasting no time, he sprang to his feet and leapt into the air just as the creature charged past him, launching his billy club at the nearest lamppost and swinging away from the building.
Gracefully landing on the sidewalk across from the brownstone, Daredevil faced the monster across the street and tried to "see" his new opponent. The monster was virtually invisible to him - no heartbeat, no signs of heat, no sounds of muscle or bone pulling its joints inside of it. Matt only knew it was a cougar, cat-like creature from the inaudible wind that blew through the street. From the tapping noise its paws made against the ground as it crept towards Daredevil. From the burbling sound he heard below his feet.
Burbling sound?
"Shit." Daredevil leapt away as a narrow, tall, sharpened column shot up from below, narrowly gouging him into two. Daredevil flipped in mid-air as another pike shot up towards him, and as he landed on the ground bounced into a cartweel as a third narrowly missed its skewer.
Daredevil launched his billy club towards the creature, but to no avail - the creature dashed away moments before it was struck. The cable retracting the club back together again, the creature suddenly charged at Matt, covering a dozen yards in what seemed like milliseconds.
"Fast," he muttered.
One of the rarest moments in his life had just struck him - the overwhelming feeling that he was in over his head.
-----------------------
You do not belong here.
Your blood is tainted. Your blood is not black.
You are no wolf. You are a dog.
You are no demon. You are a bastard being.
You are not welcome.
"That's great to hear," Dante said, as in the dimly-lit room, four shadow-like cat monsters surrounded him. The door from which he came was covered and shut in black. "Does that mean no punch and pie for me?"
Get out.
"You guys going to tell me where Sonata is, or am I going to have to slay it out of you?"
Get out, Son of Sparda.
"The hard way. Always has to be the hard way," Dante sighed.
------------------------
HALLOWEEN. ONE HOUR AGO.
. . Dante fell onto the ground, beaten and defeated in the middle of the chamber.
Standing over Dante was his opponent, whose pale-white hands were engulfed in flames of blue, whose ghastly-white, pupil-less eyes steamed glowing blue, whose pitch-black overcoat blew back behind him as he summoned the flames of blue to grow more potent.
One of the rarest moments in Dante's life had just struck him - the overwhelming feeling that he was in over his head.
And his opponent grinned.