Dante wanted to leave as fast as possible. He knew he didn't have
long before they would be on him. The city made him nervous, because if
they did come, they would slaughter all in their path. After all, they had
no compassion. Luckily, he had no reason to stay more than necessary.
As a result of the recent events, Dante found himself jotting things down so he could remember them. Any scrap of paper would do, and he always carried his signature Devil May Cry pen with him. He mused to himself that he would have to get a new one since he had changed the name of his business. Oh well, no time for that now.
Dante tallied up the cost. Gun ammo, for pistols as well as shotgun. The other weapons were lost in the collapse of the mansion. He had saved the shotgun, though, and it had remained loyal. Next- polish. His sword and guns definitely needed it. Foodstuffs and some random other items, and he would be good as gone. And making record time, he mused.
Also on his list was a new red overcoat. The things were damn hard to find, and he always had to place an order for a custom job. He had originally seen it in a video game. The main character had worn a red overcoat, and though he didn't remember much from the game, the red coat stuck in his mind. He had searched throughout three years of his life before he found a place willing to make it, and he always went there when he needed a new one.
The final thing on his list was 'sleep', which was jokingly added when he made the list. As he left the weapons shop, his sorry excuse for an overcoat lined with ammo, he sullenly marked through the last word and sighed deeply. He couldn't sleep, not until he got away from the city, and likely not then, either. Good thing I'm half demon, he thought with a twinge. He didn't know what it was a twinge of, though.
His plans were foiled, however, on the way to the grocery store. His record time was dashed to the floor and shattered to tiny bits by a totally unforeseeable and incomprehensible surprise. Trish.
Trish, he remembered, had left one morning with no word as to where she was going or what she was planning. She was just gone when he woke up one morning. After the demons started hunting him, he figured that her disappearance was linked somehow, but he had no way of knowing. It had been almost two months now since Mundis, and most of that had been spent fighting until he passed out on the ground from exhaustion, He had all but given up on seeing Trish again.
So you could imagine his surprise when he almost ran into her while rounding a corner.
She stood there with her hands behind her back, eyes downcast, as if waiting for him to round that fateful corner. He knew that she knew he was standing there, staring disbelievingly. She did nothing, but her stance spoke of guilt and a pleading for forgiveness. He finally found his tongue again, amongst all the wreckage in his mind.
"T-Trish! God, where the hell have you been? And what are you doing here?" He asked expectantly. Trish's eyes darted up to meet his. Her mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, and shut again. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she grasped his hand and hauled him down the street, with a desperate "Follow me" thrown over her shoulder.
As a result of the recent events, Dante found himself jotting things down so he could remember them. Any scrap of paper would do, and he always carried his signature Devil May Cry pen with him. He mused to himself that he would have to get a new one since he had changed the name of his business. Oh well, no time for that now.
Dante tallied up the cost. Gun ammo, for pistols as well as shotgun. The other weapons were lost in the collapse of the mansion. He had saved the shotgun, though, and it had remained loyal. Next- polish. His sword and guns definitely needed it. Foodstuffs and some random other items, and he would be good as gone. And making record time, he mused.
Also on his list was a new red overcoat. The things were damn hard to find, and he always had to place an order for a custom job. He had originally seen it in a video game. The main character had worn a red overcoat, and though he didn't remember much from the game, the red coat stuck in his mind. He had searched throughout three years of his life before he found a place willing to make it, and he always went there when he needed a new one.
The final thing on his list was 'sleep', which was jokingly added when he made the list. As he left the weapons shop, his sorry excuse for an overcoat lined with ammo, he sullenly marked through the last word and sighed deeply. He couldn't sleep, not until he got away from the city, and likely not then, either. Good thing I'm half demon, he thought with a twinge. He didn't know what it was a twinge of, though.
His plans were foiled, however, on the way to the grocery store. His record time was dashed to the floor and shattered to tiny bits by a totally unforeseeable and incomprehensible surprise. Trish.
Trish, he remembered, had left one morning with no word as to where she was going or what she was planning. She was just gone when he woke up one morning. After the demons started hunting him, he figured that her disappearance was linked somehow, but he had no way of knowing. It had been almost two months now since Mundis, and most of that had been spent fighting until he passed out on the ground from exhaustion, He had all but given up on seeing Trish again.
So you could imagine his surprise when he almost ran into her while rounding a corner.
She stood there with her hands behind her back, eyes downcast, as if waiting for him to round that fateful corner. He knew that she knew he was standing there, staring disbelievingly. She did nothing, but her stance spoke of guilt and a pleading for forgiveness. He finally found his tongue again, amongst all the wreckage in his mind.
"T-Trish! God, where the hell have you been? And what are you doing here?" He asked expectantly. Trish's eyes darted up to meet his. Her mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, and shut again. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she grasped his hand and hauled him down the street, with a desperate "Follow me" thrown over her shoulder.