Chasm says: I don't own DMC 1or 2 in any way shape or form......darn. Giving Alastor its a**hole personality, however, was my idea. -grins-
It was the muck smell of stagnating water, moist stone, coupled with mold and algae that snared Dante's attention, first. After his senses told him he was in the clear, after he was finished absorbing the Sins' essence, did he close the door behind him, and take stock of his new surroundings. Ankle deep water pervaded here as it did the previous chamber. He was in a short corridor of damp, moss-encrusted stonemasonry that stretched out to either side of him. A sharp, ninety-degree turn at either end obscured his view of what lay ahead. Time had fractured and pitted the high ceiling's gray stonework in some places, as well as the walls themselves - which were nearly black with mildew - and a constant sheen of wetness could be seen all over. The devil hunter was aware of the humidity in the still air, and realized it to be the source of the condensation. The source of light by which he saw these things fell upon the simple, black iron-wrought lanterns bolted into the stone walls at regular intervals.
While the pale white light dispelled much of the gloom, it remained cold, and devoid of comfort. Guns in hand, Dante explored the tunnel-like corridor to his left. Discovering it to be nothing more than a crumbling dead end, he backtracked. The slosh of water about his feet was loud in his ears. Not bothering to mask his approach Dante boldly rounded the corner.
The waterway's main tunnel yawned out before him.
There was perhaps thirty yards of gleaming-wet, slime-covered, cracked-and-crumbling tunnel to traverse before it terminated at a massive, iron-banded portcullis. In his immediate view, however, were a metal door a dozen feet ahead and to his right, and a smaller tunnel - service tunnel? - to his left.
"Why can't you just die?" Alastor hissed low.
Dante ignored the spirit's venomous statement. He walked over to the metal door, noting its remarkably clean condition; not a speck of rust marred the wet metal's surface. It looked almost new.
Just another inconsistency in the funhouse from Hell, he thought dryly.
The heavy door opened on worn hinges. Dante entered the new room, only half his thoughts anchored in the present. He hadn't killed the devil knight, and even though the monster had vanished in a ball of flame, that was no guarantee it was dead...
And why should I even care, for that matter?
And he knew it was because the sight of the towering knight had sparked something within him. He played back the incident in his mind's eye, recalling the faint, but insistent voice in the back of his head beseeching him to....to what? When the knight had leapt down from its perch, and battle was imminent, Dante had hesitated to make the first move. Why? Because of some obscure emotion? Or was it just a moment of weakness against such a formidable foe? But of the many questions waiting their turn for answers, one took center stage: Why had the diabolic warrior reacted to the hunter's medallion? Dante dismissed his train of thought with a shake of his head.
If he had known the duel was going to give him a migraine afterwards he would have readily avoided it. God, he hate distractions on the job. Nothing was straightforward anymore, damn it! But then, certainty in his life had long ago set up residence elsewhere, ever since....
Another shake of the head - more forceful this time - blew away the unwanted memories before they could take hold. The mystery of the devil knight would remain so until he had something more to work with....maybe. Besides, on a lighter note, a second encounter would give him an excuse to pay the bastard back for that strangle hold.
Satisfied the issue was set to rest - at least, temporarily - he gave his new surroundings a proper once over. The place was like a plane hanger, he decided, with a length just shy of the main waterway's tunnel, but with twice the width. The wall immediately to his right comprised of a row of four portcullises, each gate slick and aged, but obviously sturdy.
Lining the walls all around were drainage pipes three feet in diameter, their open maws revealing nothing but darkness. Water dribbled from the pipes like thin drool to splash into the ankle-high pool below. It produced a rain-like effect, but it was a false rain that wasn't in the least cleansing.
"These ancient waterways were used to deviate the flow of flood waters," commented the lightning spirit. "Often would these tunnels fill to the ceiling....did you know this, mongrel?"
"You're point?" asked Dante with minimal interest. He holstered Ebony and Ivory in favor of Alastor's weight, then slowly, methodically, began checking the pipes. It wouldn't be the first - or last - time a minion of Hell disguised its taint, only to reveal itself as it pounced.
"I merely wish to add caution to your step," murmured the lightning spirit after a minute. "It wouldn't do to die here, would it?"
Dante abruptly ceased his inspection. "Say what?" he asked, incredulous. "Thought you couldn't wait to be rid of me? You on something?"
"Do not confuse a change of heart with common sense, mongrel," snarled the devil arms. "It is only because you took my power that I am bound to give such advise. We are no more allies than the spawn you fight within these walls, remember that."
The devil hunter blinked, then resumed examining the pipes for evil life with an amused chuckle.
"What? Why do you laugh?" came the defensive hiss.
The red clad hunter didn't answer right away, just to rankle the other's nerves. "It just hit me....it's so obvious, now."
"What is?"
"Just the real reason I can't bring myself to ever like you," replied Dante with a half shrug.
"Hmph! I would think my constantly hurling insults and demoralizing remarks would be sufficient reason enough, fool!"
Dante was inspecting the central pipe stuck in the chamber's far wall when he said, "Nah, insults are cake. You really want to know?"
"I demand to know!"
Dante's expression became one of absolute, deadly seriousness as he brought the sentient blade in front of his face. The half-devil's own lethal visage reflected back at him.
"'Cause you can't kill a spirit."
Before a startled Alastor could sputter a reply, the sword was driven deep into the maw of the drainage pipe, killing the thing laying in wait. A high, clicking-squeal - like that of a monster insect - emitted from the deceptive darkness as Dante snatched up the item the creature had guarded.
Quickly stuffing the item - a key - inside a coat pocket, Dante whirled, sensing taint all about -
- as the chamber's drainage system became infested with hideous insect life.
Dozens of bloated horrors in hard shells of dull, blue-black and bile green poured out from hiding with eagerness bordering predatory frenzy. Many were as big as mid-sized dogs, some far larger, and while the light-bodied took to the air on buzzing wings, the heavyweights scurried about with cruelly hooked claws. Numerous multifaceted eyes flashed crimson with alien intelligence as they fixed on the lone hunter. The fly-like demons - the Beelzebub - reeked of the foul things beneath fermenting mounds of garbage, and it didn't take long for the sour stench to fill the room.
Though it had taken scant seconds for the enemy swarm to emerge, Dante was already wading into them like a death wish. Many airborne beelzebub died in halves against Alastor's razor edge, while others were simply smashed with the flat of the blade. Dante caught the erratic flight of another oncoming bug from the corner of his eye. He laughed and adopted a classic batter's stance. The stupid bug made a dry, little rasping scream of animal hunger -
- and Alastor swung in, blasting the demon's life, and its remains, clear across the long chamber. Dante smiled in satisfaction as his makeshift baseball collided into a small group of flying hostiles, crippling at least one, and sending the rest scattering. But his homerun swing had not lost momentum, and Alastor arced up, severing the life of a beelzebub hovering too close. The blade's point came down on the fat, puke-green thorax of one of the larger specimens, pinning it. The ground-bound demon screamed and flailed with meat hook-sized claws. Dante had to arc his body away from the savage swipes.
Die already! he mentally spat.
Suddenly, the thing lurched forward - ripping itself open with a horrific spray of internal fluids - talons raking at the devil hunter's legs. The dying insect's claws only managed to snag cloth, but that was enough. Pulling itself closer, it's mouth - just a hole with teeth - cracked open, and it spat with its death shriek. Dante saw the attack coming, knew what it meant, and spun away with Alastor trailing behind. The beelzebub's spittle was a writhing mass of grotesque maggots, each as long as Dante's trigger finger, and twice as thick. The small mound of sickly white parasites almost immediately began cannibalizing each other when they found nothing else to prey upon. What's more, the slain beelzebub's hard-shelled body began to dissolve under the hungry mouths of maggots still within its gut. It was as if its death was a red flag, a cue for the worms to turn on their host/parent. Dante's lips curled in disgust. Eventually, he knew, the last surviving vermin would devour itself, until nothing remained. Other individuals among the cloud of demon kind began employing their living venom with frightening suddenness. At one point a burning sensation spread across the back of his neck, and he slapped away the voracious maggots before they could do any real harm. More than once did Dante trade Alastor's edge for the ranged devastation of Ebony and Ivory, and in a blink, five flyers were splattered goo, and a green crawler lay twitching. When a duo of green demons thought to overrun him with a combined charge, the hunter ran as if he meant to evade them. They hissed with the frenzy of the chase as a quartet of fliers joined in with equal abandon. The hunter's path took him parallel along the east wall, and he was fast approaching the corner where portcullis and stone wall met. Suddenly, another green demon thought it might end the chase early by marching directly into Dante's path, spitting its vile venom. Dante ducked, allowing the spittle to soar overhead - and shower his nearest pursuer, a green crawler - as he shifted into a crouching spin. Ebony and Ivory were briefly replaced while Alastor swung in horizontally, skimming the water's surface, and shearing the bothersome interloper in two. Without hesitation, he vault the last dozen feet onto the portcullis, but didn't stop there. The interlocking bars made perfect footholds, and it wasn't hard to continue running up the ancient gate. The beelzebubs' eagerness caused them to err, and their reflexes were not prepared to save them. Dante knew this. He pushed off from nearly ceiling-height, performing his own brutal rush. Alastor whipped about in a wicked roundhouse that left all four fliers halved and quite dead. The attack's momentum brought him about to face the way he had come. Dante landed in a crouch, Alastor once again at his back, as the single survivor of the pursuit party tried to turn around, and stumble to a halt, at the same time. It was a rather comical show, Dante decided with a smirk, so he slowly withdrew his pistols, waiting for the stupid bug to about face. Even though a good number of Beelzebub still buzzed furiously about him, the hunter was unconcerned. He saw his prey finally turn its red, glaring gaze toward him, saw in them the beginnings of real fear. The quaking beelzebub only truly knew its end the instant after Ebony and Ivory let loose a barrage of lead into its hard-shelled body. The death of even more of their kin seemed to enrage the demon swarm...
But that was the pique of the swarm's aggression, and the hunter's had only just begun. His movements were a blur, even without Alastor's power, and he eventually gave up counting the enemy dead.
Hardly a minute's time elapsed, and only a handful of mutant insects endured. The three remaining ground bound beelzebub gnashed their mandibles nervously, while the two surviving fliers resolved that a hasty retreat would be preferable.
Dante made sure Ebony and Ivory gave them a proper farewell.
The three green demons chattered and hissed as they cautiously closed in on three sides. Smiling like a kid that knew a secret he wouldn't tell, the half-devil allowed himself to be herded into a corner. He even went so far as to holster his guns, feigning helplessness. Three pairs of compound eyes flared crimson with insane hunger, their stunted wings and toothy mouths trilling in barely contained blood lust. When they spat in unison they couldn't understand how their prey evaded so quickly. A singular, powerful bound saw Dante somersault, end over end, above and beyond the small group and their ill-directed venom. Ebony and Ivory appeared in hand mid-flight, and the two beelzebub flanking their leader only knew they had died when their wretched souls began burning in hellfire. Dante touched down with a muted splash, spun on his heels to face the surviving hellspawn, but the demon had not waited to be slaughtered. It was less than ten feet away when it reared up like an obscene centaur with an ear-splitting screech, claws slashing. Before the hideous abomination realized its fate, the devil hunter stepped into the charge. Held at arms length, momentum drove Ebony trigger-deep into the screaming mouth. The tactic earned Dante lacerated fingers and knuckles, but the minor wounds were already healing. Instinctively, stupidly, the creature tried to chew through the gun's barrel as it sought to claw Dante's face, completely ignoring his outstretched arm. Dante cocked his head, and declared with a sigh, "You know, I was going to play with you a little longer, but....
oh well."
Chasm asks: So, what do you think? Can anyone guess what mission this one is? Any questions, and I'll answer them in the next chapter. Remember, this mission isn't over yet...!