Author's Notes: After too many years of writing slumber, I'm finally back! Music production, work, and all the other things in-between make it all seem a little too hard to get all those idea on the screen again. What motivated me back (aside from constant "When are you gonna' write again"-type questions) is unknown, but I know I have some unfinished business here. Hopefully we'll see some of it finished off, but until then, enjoy part one of this short story. Please R + R :)
Disclaimer: the very title Devil May Cry, Trish, and Dante, all belong to Capcom. Why? Because I was too lazy to copy write a similar idea I had before PS2 was a rumor! LOL.
"The only weapons you will bring are that which lie in your veins and soul. Cowards and the foolish would dare bring otherwise."
It was the best translation Trish could give him, considering the Japanese characters ran into each other within the fire that forged them upon their doorstep. It was no ordinary fire, as it lit the street with white and shades of purple and red, but in a lifestyle that proved most humans to be as ambitious as demons, they had nothing but theories. To the side of it, questionably untouched by the flames, was a painting of where the messenger apparently wanted him to have their meeting. It, too, bore a style similar to that of traditional Japanese art, complete with kanji of its location, distance, and name.
Shirakami was the only name given for the location. Even when they had toured the Asian continents for a month long case, they had never heard of such an area, but it didn't matter to the message's recipient. Perhaps this related to the old job, and someone didn't want to stay buried, as most case studies have done for the growing staff at Devil May Cry. This, however, didn't seem similar to the style of the clan they dealt with, the now defunct Heaven Senders. Being accustomed to their "shoot first, give message second" technique, it would almost rule them out, had it not been for another symbol that lied separate to the main message, being kanji that he knew too well as the symbol for "Heaven."
"So you're going," she asked, preparing a new jacket for him, fitted with a concealed weapon.
"It'd seem so, wouldn't it," he asked, "the person put enough effort and flair behind the message, might as well humor 'em and get it over with."
"Dante," Trish solemnly began, "something doesn't feel right about this. Besides, it didn't say you couldn't come alone."
"Noted," he replied, "but even backup can be considered a tertiary weapon. Lemme' play fair for once, huh?"
He then questioned the single or combined company of Beowulf and Ifrit, contradicting gauntlets of light and hellfire that had passed on most of its own power and skills to him anyway, but Dante would've felt better knowing they were at the ready. This time, though, he'd have to hold back the urge.
"Besides," he continued, "I'm not in the market of getting anyone else hurt because I'm the desired target. Again."
He walked outside, ignoring Trish who held out his loaded jacket for him to take.
"The help's appreciated," he said, stuffing his black vest with white and green vials of energy, "but I'm doing this their way. Even if it's an ambush, they should know better by now."
"That's what I'm scared of," Trish sternly revealed. " 'They' could be anyone. You'll have to understand that no matter how powerful we become, someday…"
Dante approached her with a hug to comfort her fears away, feeling in between them the gun hidden in the jacket.
"I knew you'd do something like that," he said, as he slowly formed his scarred, haunting wings. He then walked backwards, with pure white eyes staring down the splitting image of his late mother.
"When I'm done, I'll bring you back something cool," he said with a smile, that even though it warmed Trish, it almost frightened her to wonder if this was the last time they'd ever meet. Why she even thought that way was beyond her, but as Dante flew off into the unknown without further words, her fears grew along with the inextinguishable flames of the symbols.
Shirakami turned out to be a mountainous land in Japan's northeastern area. Far off from any cities, this serene land seemed too gorgeous for even a battle to take place, even as the sun was setting over the land. As Dante touched down near a river cutting through a grassy field, he could almost feel the same stigma within the land as he did from the kanji back home. It was as if the natural beauty of the terrain were a lie, covering an ancient benevolent miasma that damned those who dared to rid the world of its existence. He searched the immediate area, seeing not an animal nor hearing a sound aside from the rushing waters, and wondered if the emcee of this gathering was either running late, or running away.
"You know, this is the first time someone who's called me out chickened out before I even got to see 'em," Dante spoke aloud. "It's a shame, but at least now Trish doesn't have to---."
He could hear a heart beat echoing once, as the scenery changed to an inverted discoloration, and back to normal in an instant. His senses were raised and attentive now, for this could be either an effect of the forest's energy, or the host's influence onto the immediate playing field. It happened once more, only now, Dante saw someone in the distance, standing firm and stolid, so it seemed. Not wanting to waste time, Dante jumped closer to the distant figure, and upon landing, he got a clearer image of the man that could only be the host of tonight's festivities.
The man's skin was a dark brown, yet it seemed to illuminate his area with demonic ferocity, a kind that matched his strong, bestial face that harbored crimson eyes and sharp, boorish teeth, growling at his guest as a dog would to an intruder. He had spiked hair that had the same color as fire, a large rosary wrapped around his neck, and his clothing, a dark blue gi that had been torn and ravaged through time, moved as if by a mystic wind that the man conjured up himself. The very wind seemed to overtake the entire field now, blowing Dante's hair to the side, but never losing focus on the half-breed.
"You must be the guy," Dante began, "I expected more of an entrance, but you don't look like the audience-friendly type, anyway."
"You, too, are a half-breed," the man bellowed, "one that seems perfect for a challenge, if not…worth my time."
Dante rolled his eyes, "So, what's the big delay, for? We're not getting any younger, though you may be a thousand years too late for some beauty sleep."
With those words, the demon disappeared before his eyes, alarming Dante as he quickly got into a fighting stance. A split second premonition forced him to jump backwards, as the demon man dove from the sky at blinding speed, failing to hit the target with a single blow. As he regained his footing, Dante took notice of the dirt and water that flew upwards from the gaping crater such an attack left behind, and took notice that it would've been a solid chop to the back of his spine.
Before the demon turned around, Dante recognized a symbol on the back of his gi from earlier, that being the "heaven" or "afterlife" symbol. It was enough to convince Dante that this was the man who called out his presence. For once, though, it was not in the name of his or his father's past deeds of heroism. Now it was just to fight, to see between two unlikely combatants, who would bow down to whom. Devoid of interruptions, an innermost desired, unhinged mortal combat began.