Devil May Cry
Tears Of Blood
Prelude
My name is Dante.
I'm known as 'The Son of Sparda'.
The ones I hunt call me 'the slayer', or 'the Hell Child", but they never have time to ask me my real name before I put a bullet between their useless, pathetic eyes.
Call me what you wish. I really don't care.
I'm dead inside.
Since my job is hunting devils, I have no reason to live, except to send every one of those 'God-Forsaken' creatures back from where they came from.
'God'…damn it's a twisted word. It seems everything I've come to love has been taken away from that bastard. Everything I cherish in my life seems to fade away into nothing but the blackened shade that is my being.
What are these two beautiful babes you ask? These are my companions; my guns, Ebony and Ivory. They were just like my father's, except I made them.
Yes, this is my real hair color. It's natural. I don't find it so strange, you know, having demonic blood in me and all.
Never mind. I'll just get to the point.
Why am I still alive? I don't know why I'm still alive. Maybe it's because I'm just that damn good when it comes to slaying. Maybe its because I've learned the skills of the demons and can destroy pretty much any kind of monster they can pit me against. It really doesn't matter.
I am good at two things; riding my bike, and slaying demons.
So I crouch here at this stone window, thousands of feet above the ground just thinking. About what? I don't know. Do I care? You guess.
I guess all I can really do is kill demons and hope that when I die, someone will be there to take my place. It's not like I alone can do this job, although I like to think I can.
Besides, what does a revenge-driven man with two kick-ass guns and nothin' to live for have to lose?