Trish hauled Dante around countless corners and across numberless
streets, Dante complaining and cursing all the way, before she finally
stopped in front of an old-fashioned looking ten-storie building. And the
pause was only momentary before Trish dragged him into it.
The lobby was very businesslike, with tiled floors and white walls and ceiling, most of the people wearing suits and carrying briefcases, artificial light glowering from above. The most noticeable thing in the room was the huge receptionist desk, and behind it on either side were two elevators. To the left and right of the elevators were long hallways with doors here and there.
The black-haired receptionist looked up at them and smiled a perfect businesswoman smile. "Ah, Trish. You must be here to see the Council. They are waiting on floor 5." Her tone was friendly, but crisp and firm, and with that she went back to her work.
Trish pressed the square button labeled "5" when they got into the elevator, and crossed her arms. Dante heaved an exasperated sigh.
"You still haven't told me what this is all about, Trish."
"You'll see," she said curtly, and Dante knew she would say no more. Abruptly, the elevator halted with a 'ding' and Trish walked briskly into the room before them. Dante had half a mind to go back down to the lobby and leave, but he decided to at least amuse his curiosity.
Dante walked into a large, no, huge room, with the biggest oval- shaped table he had ever seen. There were eighteen chairs, nine of them occupied. One man sat at the head of the table, and eight sat in pairs adjacent to one another. Dante saw that Trish had taken a seat at the opposite end as the nine men, but he preferred to stand, for the moment.
Suddenly Dante's senses tingled. He narrowed his eyes at the men and examined them closely. They certainly looked human, but he knew better. Demons. No, something more...
Dante's hands drifted to his guns, but the man at the head of the table caught his movement.
"There is no need for that, son of Sparda." The man said.
"So you know me...?"
The man raised his hands in a helpless gesture and shrugged. "Who doesn't? It seems you have made quite a name for yourself."
Dante rested his arms on the chair directly opposite the man speaking. "No, I have always been the son of Sparda."
The man laughed a humorless laugh. "Indeed you have. But now you have drawn more attention to the fact. And to yourself."
Dante sighed, frowning. "If you'd get to the point, maybe I won't shove your—"Trish his him in the arm before he could finish his sentence.
The man frowned also. "If you insist. We know you have been running, son of Sparda. Running from demons that, thus far, you have barely been able to hold off. We sense them just as you do, although maybe not as keenly." One of the men snorted, but was ignored.
"We can help you with you're little problem, son of Sparda, but we require...assistance."
Dante rolled his eyes. "You know, the 'son of Sparda' has a name."
The man frowned. "Dante—"Dante nodded, giving him permission to go on.
"You have the Nightmare Beta, yes?"
Dante paused, then shook his head. "No, not any more. It was lost on Mallet Island, along with almost all my other guns."
A nervous murmur erupted from the rest of the men, but a raised hand from the man at the head of the table. "That only makes our job harder, since we cannot study it directly. Unnecessary risks must me taken." The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
As Dante started impatiently tapping his foot, the man spoke again. "Our intelligence has gathered information that tells us the whereabouts of the blue prints for the Nightmare Beta. It's in an out-of-the-way facility, as to not arouse suspicion, but shouldn't be too hard to find. The defenses are heavy, however, and currently we do not have the, ah, manpower to infiltrate and retrieve these documents."
Dante snorted. "Let me guess, you want he to be your Labrador retriever. What kind of help are you offering to make this worthwhile to me, huh?"
The man smiled. "That is confidential until we receive the blueprints."
Dante snorted. "Typical."
"Do not worry, Dante, we will make it worth your while. I promise."
The lobby was very businesslike, with tiled floors and white walls and ceiling, most of the people wearing suits and carrying briefcases, artificial light glowering from above. The most noticeable thing in the room was the huge receptionist desk, and behind it on either side were two elevators. To the left and right of the elevators were long hallways with doors here and there.
The black-haired receptionist looked up at them and smiled a perfect businesswoman smile. "Ah, Trish. You must be here to see the Council. They are waiting on floor 5." Her tone was friendly, but crisp and firm, and with that she went back to her work.
Trish pressed the square button labeled "5" when they got into the elevator, and crossed her arms. Dante heaved an exasperated sigh.
"You still haven't told me what this is all about, Trish."
"You'll see," she said curtly, and Dante knew she would say no more. Abruptly, the elevator halted with a 'ding' and Trish walked briskly into the room before them. Dante had half a mind to go back down to the lobby and leave, but he decided to at least amuse his curiosity.
Dante walked into a large, no, huge room, with the biggest oval- shaped table he had ever seen. There were eighteen chairs, nine of them occupied. One man sat at the head of the table, and eight sat in pairs adjacent to one another. Dante saw that Trish had taken a seat at the opposite end as the nine men, but he preferred to stand, for the moment.
Suddenly Dante's senses tingled. He narrowed his eyes at the men and examined them closely. They certainly looked human, but he knew better. Demons. No, something more...
Dante's hands drifted to his guns, but the man at the head of the table caught his movement.
"There is no need for that, son of Sparda." The man said.
"So you know me...?"
The man raised his hands in a helpless gesture and shrugged. "Who doesn't? It seems you have made quite a name for yourself."
Dante rested his arms on the chair directly opposite the man speaking. "No, I have always been the son of Sparda."
The man laughed a humorless laugh. "Indeed you have. But now you have drawn more attention to the fact. And to yourself."
Dante sighed, frowning. "If you'd get to the point, maybe I won't shove your—"Trish his him in the arm before he could finish his sentence.
The man frowned also. "If you insist. We know you have been running, son of Sparda. Running from demons that, thus far, you have barely been able to hold off. We sense them just as you do, although maybe not as keenly." One of the men snorted, but was ignored.
"We can help you with you're little problem, son of Sparda, but we require...assistance."
Dante rolled his eyes. "You know, the 'son of Sparda' has a name."
The man frowned. "Dante—"Dante nodded, giving him permission to go on.
"You have the Nightmare Beta, yes?"
Dante paused, then shook his head. "No, not any more. It was lost on Mallet Island, along with almost all my other guns."
A nervous murmur erupted from the rest of the men, but a raised hand from the man at the head of the table. "That only makes our job harder, since we cannot study it directly. Unnecessary risks must me taken." The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
As Dante started impatiently tapping his foot, the man spoke again. "Our intelligence has gathered information that tells us the whereabouts of the blue prints for the Nightmare Beta. It's in an out-of-the-way facility, as to not arouse suspicion, but shouldn't be too hard to find. The defenses are heavy, however, and currently we do not have the, ah, manpower to infiltrate and retrieve these documents."
Dante snorted. "Let me guess, you want he to be your Labrador retriever. What kind of help are you offering to make this worthwhile to me, huh?"
The man smiled. "That is confidential until we receive the blueprints."
Dante snorted. "Typical."
"Do not worry, Dante, we will make it worth your while. I promise."