The Final Hunt
Disclaimer: I do not own DMC (2)
Thank you to my reviewers
Max-payne2015
Jesse Valentine
Chapter Two: People Start Paying Hell
Dante stood looking at the room looking down at the still cooling corpse of his child.
'Wait,' screamed his brain. 'I don't have a child, do I? I guess I must since that kid is on the floor. When did Trish get pregnant?"
Dante's mind suddenly caught the full blast of knowing that his fiancé and son were both dead. He let out a keening wail of despair that shortly turned into a roar of pure, animalistic hatred. For a block radius everything glass or glass-like shattered. It happened that very few people were around because those who heard that wail, their minds couldn't take it and their heads exploded in a shower of gore. Those who didn't die of the banshee-like wail went mad with hatred and tried to destroy whatever was within reach.
During the scream Dante's eyes flashed into glowing red rubies surrounded by flame, and, suddenly, his eyes changed to sapphires glowing with an unnatural light. Dante smiled, his canines had gotten longer and the smile was of a mass murderer.
His instincts told him to cut out the heart of his son, he didn't know why but he did. He put the heart in a pocket on his coat and slid the slide on both his pistols so that there was a shell in the barrel.
He walked out of the office and turned to go to his weapons dealer. He moved with a grace unseen in most professional dance performances. He felt his blood boiling to get revenge, not even on those responsible, no, that would come later when he had thought a little, no this was a rage against the world, and he intended to punish this world for taking the only thing he loved more than killing.
He ran, feet barely touching the ground, seeming to not move his legs, more like he moved without moving. He jumped straight through the window to the gun shop and blasted the customer who was trying to buy a pistol for personal protection. The poor man ended up in a heap, well most of him was in a heap, his left arm was a foot away where it had bounced to after being forcibly separated from it's body by an exit wound.
Dante, seemingly without moving was already behind the counter, his gun still drawn, when he slammed his elbow into the shopkeeper's throat sending him back three feet into a wall where his head exploded from impact.
Dante grabbed ammunition and opened fire on the body, laughing manically as the body bucked up and down from the repeated impacts.