AN: Hihi! Another hug to my reviewers! Oy…I realized that my chapters are getting longer…eep! And worse quality: this chapter….I just wrote it out… But I still worked hard!
Oh! BloodyDemonEmpress: I made Dante have a bit of telekinesis. Cuz it's possible for demons to have it all, ne? Unfortunately, Dante doesn't work on this skill, so he has extreme difficulties with it.
Burryk: STOP IT!! Your ficcy's great! Hey everyone, READ BURRY'S FANFIC! It has LOTS more action than mine! Dyne is HOT. Oh, burryk…by the way….the review section's not working for me …
This chapter has lots of action :D, so dearest people who don't like action, wait for the next chappy, where there'll be magic! And perhaps some romance…hehe…I honestly don't know…I don't have a manuscript.
Oh, and please please someone show me how to indent ...the indent key always indents the whole paragraph. Since I can't use the 8-spaces-magic, I've decided to use a new format. PLEASE TELL ME IF IT'S BETTER FOR YOU, OR NAY.
Anyhoo, here's a glossary for those who are not familiar with sword terms:
Edge: the cutting part of a sword's blade
Grip: where one holds the sword
Point: the tip of the sword's blade.
Voiding: slipping back the leg when striking
Ooh! DMC'S Capcom's!
..................................................CHAPTER 13: Fight to the End...................................................
Trish sat on the bed where Dante left her. She impatiently pushed back honey-coloured hair, thoroughly bored. Dante told her to conserve her energy, but she felt fine, aside from the melting part.
She was pleasantly surprised to see that her hair had very few split-ends, after only five months on the Surface world. In the Underworld, where it was perpetually hot and dry, hair in bad condition was fairly common. Mussing over the strands for a while occupied up a bit of her time.
After splitting whatever damaged hair follicles she could find, she leaned back against the bed post. She wished she could do something to slow down her condition, or help Dante with his 'shopping'.
A slight tapping on her window caught her ears. It was raining. And it was dark out. Ignoring Dante's orders to remain as still as possible, Trish got up and walked over to the window. The obsidian blanket of night seemed to hide all buildings and forms of life from her view. She watched each drop splash against the pane, and pressed her burning cheeks against them. When she lifted her face away, a bit of her was stuck on the window. She hastily pulled away. Thankfully, it melted away to nothingness.
Trish shuddered in disgust. "Rule number one," she said to herself, "Don't come in contact with any objects."
She spent another few minutes uselessly watching raindrops run down the pane. "One on the right wins," she gambled. "Bet on Dante's pizza."
Finally exhausting her sources of entertainment, Trish retired back to the bed. Of course, she could always go down to the 'living room' and watch TV, but Dante could come back at any second; if he caught her lounging around...
The woman decided not to risk Dante's wrath. Oh, I wish there were something to do!
Her wish came in the form of broken glass. Just as she slumped her head forward in tedium, the flimsy single pane shattered into many sharp pieces. A piercing shriek emitted from the source of the damage, and Trish found herself suspended clumsily in mid-air, marionette style.
"There's an advantage to this condition," Trish smirked. With a twist of her wrists, she managed to slide through the invisible magical strings. "Disgusting, but at least it doesn't hurt!"
Trish leaped down, and crouched low the instant she touched the bed. Using her leg muscles to propel her back up, she grabbed the hanging light on the ceiling just long enough to gain enough momentum to make a pendulum movement, hitting a green marionette full in its chest just as it materialized from an evil red circle of runes.
"I can lick your asses anytime," Trish boasted, grabbing Sparda and twirling clockwise defensively, blade out, to meet her enemies. She stomped heavily over the fallen marionette, ignoring it for the time being. Instead, she aimed the point of her sword at the marionette who initiated the burglar entrance. She lunged, her left foot voiding for balance. As she sliced through the wood, she became conscious of the double meaning in her words. "Never mind! I'd get slivers in my tongue!" A roundhouse slash above, followed by a slash from below, cut the puppet into three whole pieces.
"You'd think these low-class spirits'll quit using Pinocchio as their vessel!" Trish chattered to herself, amid the fury of steel, wood, and flesh. She felt her energy reviving a bit, as she leeched off her enemies' energies with every 'kill'. Red portals started appearing. Soon, the small room had three new visitors, each decked out in colourful outfits.
"Hey," she exclaimed cheerfully, eyeing the blood running down the walls, and over the floor. "Blood. Liquid. Salt. Electricity time!" Her free left hand shot out a bolt.
"But then again, wood is a conductor," she observed, as the advance of the marionettes did not cease. The hanging light flickered once, twice. Oops, Trish thought. I have to be careful not to blow the fuse.
Dodging several awkwardly aimed blades, Trish leapt high in the air, and slashed viciously downward on a red marionette's head. Unfortunately, it was right then her hands started to go slippery. Her point of equilibrium disrupted, the heavy Sparda sword clattered to the floor, with her falling right next to it. She landed on her back, but did not manage to leap back up, due to the slippery blood on the floor.
A roar. "Huh?" She inquired softly, almost childishly. She looked up. Towering over her was the red marionette. An evil smile spread over its wooden features. Its blades gleamed wickedly in the light.
The female did not give it a chance to raise its curved blades. She promptly kicked it on its shin. As its knees wobbled, she simultaneously groped for her sword as she bounded up violently, exerting a tremendous strain on her sword arm. Sword pointed skywards, she managed to tear the thing apart, from between its legs, through its head. The wood dispelled into a cluster of red orbs.
Without losing a beat, she used her remaining momentum to cartwheel-kick a blue marionette directly behind it. A golden glint from its side caught her eye. This one had a sawed-off shotgun! She was extremely lucky that marionettes were fairly slow creatures, and that it did not use the weapon on her when she was distracted. It crashed onto the floor. As it lay there flat on its back, she straddled it, grabbed Sparda's grip with both hands, and stabbed downward hard, through its neck.
Just in time, as well: her strength was now evaporating rapidly. There were only two other marionettes in her room. From her peripheral vision, she noted the absence of the red runes; they had stopped transporting.
"They always attack me when I'm weak," Trish complained as she jumped up. Her body felt extremely numb now, and she couldn't bear looking upon herself. "Just let me finish," she grumbled, her hands having difficulty grasping the grip. "Two more…"
With an animal yell, she charged, sword held at her side. Suddenly all she heard was a twirling sound. Shoot! Was all her brain could register, before her body automatically dodged to the side. A trail of curved blades followed in her wake.
Scowling, Trish grabbed the nearest scimitar-like blade, and flung it back. The green jester staggered back, blade in chest. Just in time, it stepped in front of the other marionette, and was shot to pieces. Trish's eyes widened at her second stroke of luck.
"One's easy," She huffed. She could feel a bit of dampness now; her body was trembling from the icy coldness enveloping her limbs. She felt like taking a long nap.
But not now, she commanded herself. She bit her lip, feeling it dissolve gradually. Yes, not yet. She ran full speed ahead, once more. Every time she heard the tell-tale twirl, she dodged sideways, or up. Finally, she was (almost) face to face with the puppet.
"Bye-bye," was the last thing it heard, before the female devil drove Sparda's edge completely through it.
Danger finally gone, Trish's knees crumbled. She fell to the wooden floor, energy completely spent. She tried to raise her limbs, to no avail.
"Just like…dream," she murmured, before she blacked out.