Author's Note:
I know, I know, I know . . . "Part one." We all know what that means, don't we? But, this chapter was taking longer than I expected, and I was fighting a major lack of inspiration last week. Whine, whine . . .
The funny thing is that I already have much of the plot planned out for the rest of the story. Sitting down and actually writing it is the problem. It will happen--don't worry. I actually can't wait to write the chapter after Inferno: Part Two. Don't know what it will be called, but it will be angsty and happy. Wait . . . that doesn't quite make sense. But Amon will be forced to stop being an island for a while, which is always a good thing. "I am a rock. I am an island. And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries . . ." ÐSimon and Garfunkel
Chapter 20
Inferno: Part One
The night was unusually warm, spring heavy in the moist air despite a brisk breeze whipping down the shadowy street as Karasuma climbed out of Amon's car. She had been surprised by the briefness of their journey from the rendezvous point at Harry's to this location, especially considering how close Harry's was to the STN-J. The proximity irked Karasuma. They had searched all over the city for Beatrice's hideout, only to find it had been so close to them all along--that was, of course, if the derelict theatre at the end of the street was in fact the demon's real hideout and not yet another false lead. Glancing at Amon as he shut his door and gazed pensively at their destination, she marveled once again at his swift decision to take Beatrice's bait when he knew it led to a trap; it was true that he had never hesitated to take necessary risks in the past, but she couldn't recall a time in recent history when he had risked so much on a hunt with so little certainty of success. Although, she had to admit this was far from an ordinary hunt in the first place.
A low whistle drew her attention, and she turned to see Dante regarding the theatre with appreciation as he strapped what appeared to be a sword on his back. "Pretty impressive digs," he commented.
"Is that what I think it is?" Karasuma asked, gesturing to the object on his back.
"Depends on what you think it is," Dante replied with a smirk.
"A sword . . ." she replied dryly.
He shrugged, "Hey, it's a weapon, isn't it?"
"Yes," Karasuma admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I hear people used them a lot back in the Dark Ages."
Smiling tightly, he retorted, "Listen, babe, you might think of it a little differently when you see it in action."
"Give him a break already, Karasuma," Sakaki agreed as he pushed away from where he had been leaning against Doujima's car. "It's cool." Turning to Dante, he inquired with excitement in his eyes, "Is there going to be a Quickening when you take Beatrice's head?"
"He isn't a video game character, Sakaki," Karasuma reminded; she was unsure what the rookie had meant about a "Quickening," but it was obvious such a cheesy term must have originated in one of his games.
"And we're not on Highlander, though Alastor does have a thing for lightning," Dante added, patting the pommel of his sword affectionately, though Karasuma understood his words even less than she had understood Sakaki's.
"Alastor? Don't tell me you named it," Karasuma muttered with a sigh as she turned away, her patience wearing thin.
"All my weapons have names, babe."
"Really?" Doujima asked eagerly. "What did you name them after?"
Blocking out the rest of the conversation, Karasuma wandered around to the other side of Amon's car. "Are we ready to move, yet?" she asked Amon.
Slipping a headset over her ear, Trish leaned against Amon's shoulder and echoed, "Yeah, I'm ready to get this show on the road."
A crease appeared between Amon's eyebrows when Trish moved closer, but he ignored her contact otherwise with more patience than Karasuma expected from him. Regarding him with a raised eyebrow, Karasuma wondered momentarily if he actually enjoyed the vixen's attention. Maybe it will keep him from making a mistake with Robin, she mused. "We're not ready yet," Amon stated curtly, unaware of her inner dialogue. "Michael still hasn't contacted me with the all clear."
"So we wait," Trish sighed, still leaning against Amon. Somehow Karasuma didn't think Trish or Amon would really mind the delay all that much. Karasuma, on the other hand, couldn't wait to get this hunt over with.
-------
Michael turned his attention toward the Director's office before checking the time for what must have been the thousandth time, repeating the anxious ritual which had kept him occupied for the past half-hour. Rapping his fingertips against the surface of his desk, he sighed in frustration and glanced over at Robin who was sitting silently at her desk and stroking a finger over something cupped in her hand. His brows knitted together as he watched her, knowing instinctively she was looking at that strange crystal again. Maybe Amon had been right to be worried about it. Still, Michael felt guilty for the part he had played in Amon's suspicions. It wasn't as if the tracker he had slipped in Robin's pocket on Amon's orders did any harm to her physically, yet he knew Robin would be offended by their lack of trust if she found out about it. Nevertheless, he couldn't ignore the possibility that the crystal was, in fact, from Beatrice, and that the demon intended to use it to get to Robin somehow.
Finally, after several more repetitions of his ritual, he saw the light in Zaizen's office turn off abruptly. Soon, angry footsteps were making their way down the stairs. Straightening in his chair, Michael looked up at Zaizen expectantly. "Is something wrong, Boss?"
Shrugging into his light coat, Zaizen growled, "I just got a phone call from the Factory. There's something I need to check into. Tell Amon to continue the hunt as planned." Without another word, the Director headed for the elevator with impatient strides.
Robin rose to her feet when he was gone and crossed the room to stand behind Michael's right shoulder. "I'm guessing that was what we were waiting for," she murmured, putting her headset on with one hand, her other hand still occupied with clutching the crystal.
Nodding silently, Michael accessed the security monitors in the garage and waited until he saw the Director's car disappear from view before punching the kill switch Amon had asked him to put in the system. Smirking with pride once he verified the switch had worked without a hitch, he turned on the connection to the team's headsets. "Peter to the six little pigs. The big bad wolf has left the office. Little Red Riding Hood and I are ready to play."
"Michael," Doujima asked dryly, "Why are you talking in code if the recorders are off?"
Shrugging even though he knew they couldn't see the gesture, Michael answered, "I dunno. I guess I'm just getting into this whole covert, disobeying orders thing."
"Don't get too used to it," Amon warned. After a short pause, he added, "We're in position. Do you have our location yet?"
Bringing up data from a global positioning satellite, Michael located them and watched the little blips on the screen which represented the hunters. "I have you. You can move at any time."
"Sakaki, Doujima, stay with the cars," Amon ordered. "We need someone on the outside in case we get surrounded. If we lose communication at any time you are authorized to enter the building. Karasuma, you have the access door on the south side of the building. Trish and I will move in from the east and west."
"And I have the north," Dante added with an audible grin. "I just love making an entrance."
"Let's move," Amon said coolly.
Superimposing the blueprints of the theatre as the blips on his screen approached it, Michael bit his lower lip nervously, counting the other blinking dots moving through the schematics. "There are guards all over the place," he reported. "Be careful."
"Just give us some warning if we're about to walk into one of them," Amon responded tersely.
"Good evening, gentleman," Dante's voice said as his blip came to a stop at the front entrance of the building. "Am I at the right place for a funeral?"
"You're just in time, Mr. Sparda," an unfamiliar male voice replied, picked up by the small microphone attached to Dante's jacket; they had decided he needed a less conspicuous way to communicate than the headsets everyone else wore, so Michael had rigged up a more obscure device for him to use. "Our mistress is waiting for you."
"Mistress, eh?" Dante said under his breath. Then, more loudly, "Bring her on."
"Please, follow me."
"Michael," Karasuma spoke up, "I'm inside the building, but there's a hallway that branches three ways. Which direction should I go?"
"Hold your position for now," Amon answered before Michael could say a word. "We need to make sure where Beatrice plans to take Dante first."
Silence fell for several minutes as they all waited and watched, only the sounds of footsteps and the wind rustling in microphones interrupting the quiet.
------
Outside the building, Doujima sighed, slouching back in her seat. Covering her headset, she glanced at Sakaki. "I wonder when Amon will finally decide to call us in?"
"Could be awhile. If he even calls us in at all," Sakaki replied with a shrug. "Why? Are you bored?"
"Maybe." Doujima turned to look at him, a smile spreading slowly across her face.
------
"Shit," Trish cursed suddenly, breaking the silence.
"What happened?" Karasuma demanded with annoyance coloring her voice.
"Um . . . I've got a problem," Trish answered calmly. "I can't move."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I can't move! As in, my feet are glued to the ground."
"Trish," Dante murmured under his breath.
"Did you say something, Mr. Sparda?" the voice of the man who had greeted Dante at the front door questioned, his voice muffled by his distance from Dante's microphone.
"No," Dante replied quickly, the raw buzz of what sounded like electricity causing static to surge through the headsets for a moment.
"Are you standing on one of those circles we warned you about?" Karasuma asked Trish in irritation.
"No," Trish snapped. "I'm not as blond as I look." She paused, and then amended, "Wait a minute. There's something--" She scoffed, and said with a groan of frustration, "There's a circle on the ceiling."
"On the ceiling," Robin echoed quietly, though she didn't look entirely surprised to Michael.
"Did you know Ogham wheels could be used that way, Robin?" Amon questioned, and Robin stiffened at the accusatory tone in his voice.
"I've heard of it before," she replied distantly.
"Regardless, we're aware of possibility now," Karasuma interrupted before Amon could say anything more. "And now we can avoid the danger."
"Unfortunately, it's a little late for me to avoid the danger," Trish pointed out.
Still watching the blips on his monitor intently, Michael interrupted when he saw a few approaching Trish's location. "Trish, you have company on the way."
"Great. I'm still stuck. Any ideas?"
"Maybe," Robin murmured. "Can you describe the runes in the circle to me?"
"We don't have time, Robin," Michael stopped her urgently, pointing to the dots moving on his screen.
"Karasuma, start making your way to Trish's position," Amon ordered. "And look out for circles on the walls as well, just in case."
"Roger."
Splitting his attention between the dot which represented Karasuma and the dots signifying enemies closing in on Trish's location, Michael jumped in startlement when he heard Robin gasp suddenly. Turning to look at her in concern, he saw her shut her eyes tightly as her face twisted in pain, a tremor running through her body. The hand that had been clutching the crystal was fisted and pressed against her chest. Michael's eyes widened in horror when he saw dark liquid trickle out from between her clenched fingers. A soft whimper of pain escaped her lips and Michael rose from his chair to catch her as she swayed.
"Karasuma, have you reached Trish's--Robin?" Amon's calm voice switched rapidly to alarm when he heard Robin's moan in the middle of his sentence. "Michael, what's going on?"
"I don't know! She just--" the words died in Michael's throat when Robin's eyes snapped open, tinted red with fire. He didn't even have time to cry out before he felt heat sear across his face. Raising his arms for protection and throwing himself out of the path of the flame, he lost his balance and hit the edge of his desk on the way down. He blacked out even before he hit the floor.
------
"My lady, they're here."
Beatrice's eyes flew open and she sneered at the man standing just outside the circle of light bathing her in a silver glow. "Yes, I know. They are here, but she is not."
"My lady?" the man asked, backing away slightly in fear.
"They left the fire witch behind." Shaking herself, she struggled to regain her composure. "But it doesn't really matter, I suppose. She will be here soon enough; I have activated the crystal, and she will have no choice. Until then, I will just have to stall . . ." Focusing on the man cowering before her, she commanded, "Bring Dante directly to me."
"Yes, my lady."
"And have Benoit create an electromagnetic field with his powers. That should put a damper on their communications."
"Of course, my lady."
------
"Michael?!" Amon repeated as he paused in the darkened alcove just inside the theatre, but no answer came back to him from the hacker.
Instead, he heard Doujima ask a little breathlessly, "Do you want us to go back to the office?" He thought he heard Sakaki mutter something in the background.
"No," Amon answered quickly as he pulled out his phone and activated the program he had installed that afternoon. He smiled wryly when he saw the tracker Michael planted on Robin registering on the small screen; she was leaving the office and heading in their direction. "I half-expected something like this to happen."
"You did?!" Doujima cried in disbelief.
"I hoped Michael wouldn't get hurt in the process, but we don't have time to check on him right now. We're already committed to this hunt."
"What . . . Robin . . . ?" Karasuma asked, static drowning out some of her words.
"Kara . . . did . . . say?" Doujima responded, her words just as garbled.
Frowning, Amon watched the signal on his phone blink several times before a message appeared reporting a lost connection. "Karasuma? Doujima?"
It was no use. The headset was dead too.
-----
"Amon! Karasuma!"
"You're wasting your time, Sakaki," Doujima said impatiently, smoothing her hair out. "They can't hear us."
Pausing in the process of tucking his shirt back in, Sakaki looked at her. "So, what are we going to do? Are we going in after them? You heard Amon. He said we had authorization to move in if we lost communication."
"Eerie how he saw that coming too, isn't it . . ." Hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, she pondered, "Maybe we should go back to the office instead."
"Amon said--"
Rolling her eyes, Doujima sighed, "Amon isn't here right now, is he? And what if this invitation was just an attempt to draw us all away from Robin and now she's unprotected? What if it was Beatrice's plan to try to infiltrate the STN-J all along?"
"I don't know . . ." Sakaki trailed off, looking out the window as he combed a hand through his unruly hair. A familiar sound off in the distance caught his attention. Squinting into the darkness, he murmured, "Is that . . . ?"
"What?"
The unmistakable form of Robin on her Vespa flew past their car, moving at a speed Sakaki had been unaware was even possible on such a vehicle.
"Was that Robin?" Doujima cried.
Pulling out his gun and checking to make sure it was loaded, Sakaki replied, "I guess this solves our dilemma, now doesn't it?"
-----
Alastor hummed to life against his back with a surge of electricity as Dante approached the large wooden doors; he took the weapon's reaction to be a good sign he was getting close to Beatrice. His hands itched to free the blade from its confinement and feel the solidity of it in his hands, but he refrained from making such an aggressive move without knowing the lay of the land.
"Here we are, Mr. Sparda."
Dante glanced at the gaunt, greasy-looking man who had guided him from the front door to this place, his mouth twisting with distaste. "Thanks, Jeeves," he said wryly, drawing a scowl from the man with his choice of nickname. "It's almost sickening how polite you've been, all things considered." Stepping through the open doorway into the large, dimly lit space beyond, he inquired, "So, where's the mistress of the hour?"
"I'm right here, brother," Beatrice said from somewhere deeper within the chamber, though the acoustics of the hall created the illusion that she was only standing a few feet away.
Dante heard the soft click of the doors shutting behind him and felt a twinge of disquiet. He didn't like feeling caged. Suppressing his sudden apprehension, he began walking down the carpeted aisle separating rows of scarlet upholstered seats. Beatrice waited for him where the aisle ended, standing on the edge of the stage. Darkly iridescent feathers glistened from where they were woven into her long ebony tresses, and her velvety dress shimmered in the glow of the spotlight focused on her. She looked like a second-rate fortuneteller--all she was lacking was a crystal ball.
"Welcome to the show," she intoned with a smile curving her blood red lips as she splayed her hands out to either side.
"I see the curtain's already gone up," he commented mockingly, slowing when he was close enough to clearly see the rings decorating her fingers and the delicate necklace hugging her throat, " You have quite an eclectic taste in locale for a funeral, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised considering your lack of taste in everything else."
"Oh, come now, Dante," she purred, shifting her hips and gesturing elegantly. "Don't lie. You admire my flair for the dramatic. After all, I know just how much importance you put on style yourself."
"You wouldn't know style if it kicked you on the ass." Unwilling to wait through more useless exposition, he decided to move things along more quickly by brandishing Alastor with a flourish, electricity crackling along its edge. "Which it's about to do--kick your ass, that is."
She laughed richly, her voice echoing through the space with an almost mesmerizing quality. "For someone with such supposed style, you can be rather crass."
"Are we going to dance, or are you just going to keep jabbering all night?" Dante demanded.
Suddenly, she was no longer standing on the stage. Dante blinked in surprise. He hadn't even seen her move. Then he heard her voice speaking from directly behind him, her fingers skimming over his shoulder blades before coming to rest on his shoulders. "I would love to dance," she said against his neck. She must have been wearing spiked heels to achieve such height. "But I'm afraid you might step on my toes."
Dante snatched one of her wrists and spun around to face her, pressing the edge of his sword against her pale neck and drawing a thin line of blood. "I'm a little disappointed. I thought this would be more of a challenge."
She backed up a step, licking the tiny beads of blood off the flat of the blade. "If it's a challenge you want . . ." She continued backing away, her eyes glowing red as her exotic features took on a darker cast. Obsidian wings sprouted from her back, lifting her out of reach when he swung Alastor toward her, the sparks from his sword meeting a shield of fire. "Don't disappoint me now, Dante," she snarled, a whip tipped with tongues of fire appearing in her hand.
Dante heard the whip snap against the stage where he had been standing only moments before, his instincts causing him to evade before his conscious mind even saw the attack coming. Coming up out of a side roll, he watched Beatrice dive toward him and leapt into the air, jumping again in midair to gain extra height before coming down fast, aiming his sword at her. Alastor embedded a few inches into the cement beneath the worn carpeting when he landed, but Beatrice was nowhere to be seen. The bite of her whip in his back a moment later told him exactly where she had gone. Growling, he pulled his sword out of the ground before back flipping up onto the stage and slashing through the air at Beatrice. Her whip caught his blade inches away from her torso, and fire fought with electricity for a few moments before a burst of flame exploded in his face and he lost his grip on his sword. What the hell was going on?
Stumbling backward, he reached for his guns. Aiming Ebony at Beatrice's hovering form, he took two quick shots at her and smirked when she reacted just as he had expected. He pulled down on Ivory's trigger then and watched the chain connecting a chandelier to the ceiling shatter when the bullet made contact. Beatrice didn't have time to move before the chandelier hit her, and he took advantage of the opportunity, spraying her with bullets as he leapt toward her. Snatching up Alastor from where it had impaled itself in a seat, he sliced the blade toward Beatrice. Before he was done, the chandelier was in two distinct pieces--but, once again, Beatrice was gone.
"Over here," she mocked, and he spun around to see her standing on the stage again, a smirk stretched across her once again pale and very human-like features.
Frustration making him reckless, he demanded, "How did you--"
"Have you forgotten already, brother?" she whispered in his ear even though he could still see her standing on the stage. "My powers of manipulation?"
He pulled away in disgust when she licked his ear. He turned to see her hovering behind him in devil form, her human form on the stage still in his peripheral vision.
"What a dilemma," both Beatrices laughed. "Which one of us is real?"
He swung Alastor through the air angrily and the Beatrice next to him evaporated. "This was getting old five minutes ago," Dante snarled when he saw the demonic Beatrice reappear across the theater. "Now, it's prehistoric." Taking out his guns again, he aimed one at each Beatrice and started firing, jumping up on the nearest row of seats and jogging across the armrests as he dodged a torrent of flame. When he was on solid ground again, he found both Beatrices had disappeared. Catching his breath, he growled, "You're going to run out of energy for your fun and games eventually, bitch, and when you do, you're going to get the shock of your life." Alastor hissed in support of his threat and he felt a current of electricity hum through his body.
"I'm afraid the fun and games are already over, dearest brother. I have other things to attend to," Beatrice replied smoothly, stepping into a pool of light near the back curtain of the stage. "You will just have to keep yourself occupied here."
The sound of several doors opening simultaneously caught Dante by surprise and his eyes narrowed when he saw dozens of glowing red eyes appear in the darkness of the theater accompanied by low growls and barks. Watching the twisted shapes of dark creatures crawling over the seats and up the walls and moving steadily toward him, he demanded through gritted teeth, "Exactly what could be so important to tear you away from your duties as a hostess?"
He jumped in surprise when he felt a hand on his arm, firmly pushing him to the side of the aisle. His hands went limp and his guns nearly clattered to the floor when he saw Robin standing behind him, green eyes focused on Beatrice with a blank stare. "What the hell are you doing here, babe?" Robin didn't even look in his direction before brushing past him on her way to the stage. He lunged for her arm, attempting to either pull her to a stop or at least shake her out of her trance. She flung him away with more strength than he had expected from her small frame, slamming him against the nearest row of seats.
"Robin, stop!" a voice shouted from the door, and Dante gathered his wits enough to see Amon standing silhouetted in the doorway, several bodies scattered on the floor behind him. His gun was pointed at Robin.
---------
I am so evil, aren't I? Here I am . . . leaving you on a
cliffhanger. Bad me! Bad!
Yet somehow I enjoy it. I really am evil. I hope the chapter wasn't too
confusing. It's actually kind of difficult to write action when a bunch of
characters are able to speak to each other while they're all in different
places doing different things. I kept confusing myself. Oh, and I
apologize if I had any glaring errors with WHR or DMC facts on hunts, witches,
weaponry, equipment, etc. I tried to be as accurate as I could without actually
going back and researching.
To Megu-sama: Thanks for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying it!
To Jewel of Tasuki: Yeah! I'm glad to hear you like the relationship between Dante and Trish. It's one of my favorite kinds of relationships to write (second to the angsty star-crossed lover kind). Part of the reason I like it too is because it always pisses me off when stories are all about getting the people together and once they're together their relationship is boring--so, I like the idea of the relationship being just as much fun as the tension leading up to characters getting together. Doesn't work for all characters. But Dante and Trish play the part well.
To Je: I can see how you could have gotten confused. I've had plenty of mental lapses like that myself when reading fics. Besides, this is a WHR fic . . . isn't it? I can't remember anymore :)
To Hexes: C'mon Capcom! Show me the money! I'm glad I'm spreading the DMC joy around though. Leather. Oh yeah.
To Kenshinusa01: Thanks! Sorry for the wait.
To Yukari Youkai: You are forgiven. It happens. I've been bad about reviewing lately for other stories. Not enough time to even read much. Sigh!
To Tiger of the Wind1: I'm so glad everybody's loving Dante and Trish. They're a lot of fun to write. And their attitudes contrast well with the serious WHR crew--though I've made many of them a bit less serious . . . Nothing "too" bad will happen to Robin--I promise. I made you wait a bit longer for this chapter--sorry! Damn writer's block. (And designer's block simultaneously--which is bad for work)
To GoWaitInTheCar: I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to im you, but I will! I wanna know!
To Sesshoumarusgirl123: Thanks! I'll work on that updating soon part.
To Kyra Invictus Black: You know, I still haven't gotten a chance to look that up, but I could have SWORN Kosaka called her that in one of the episodes. I tried to avoid the confusion of using many Japanese words, suffixes, etc in my fic, but the "Doujima-kun" thing was so clear in my head it just came out in my writing. I probably just made it all up, but now I'm curious. Need to remember to look it up on the dvd's sometime. But thanks for pointing out the mistake so I can correct it. Yeah, Zaizen is an ass--I've definitely been watching too much Nikita because Operations has totally influenced me. He's such a bastard. Unfortunately, I am already inspired for another really messed up Zaizen bastardliness in a future chapter. That's why I've got to finish Inferno and keep movin' on . . .
To Sakura Rain: Soon, my child. Soon. AxR will be happy times in future chapters. But not in a cheesy way--I hope.
To Chibi Tenshi: Yeah, "binding" is a scary word, isn't it? And Dante is such a softie when it comes to Robin. But I like giving him the softer side because you just know he's got one behind the tough guy exterior. "Clue by four" That's a good one! And it is fun to see Amon being all insecure with Robin's little kiss too. It's so much fun to turn the tables on him. More of that on the way.
To Kim "Shadow Fox" Klein: More suspense . . . sorry. But I bet you really want to beat Amon up right now.
To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Okay, okay, I get the hint!
Menage a trois! :) But I actually did have an inspiration for a bit of triangle
tension, though it may not be what you have in mind. Have you ever read any of
the Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter books? Well, there's this little thing called
the triumvirate that has me kind of inspired. But Amon's going to be acting a
bit ooc for other reasons soon enough. No worries. I foresee him actually
getting a bit clingy--that's not the right word. Maybe possessive is a better
one. Not quite. Oh well. He'll be ooc for reasons I will not yet divulge.
"how can a headache form at the bridge of someone's nose?" Well,
actually, I have sinus and tension headaches quite often and I get them right
behind my eyes and in my sinuses, so often I feel headaches right around there.
I was worried that description would be a bit confusing though. I can't help my
punniness. And somehow Dante just seems like the punny kind of guy. I'm
thinking Bruce Willis in Moonlighting I guess--though I may be showing my age
with that one. I barely remember the show from when it was actually on, but I
watched all the reruns on Bravo.
To Busoshwe: Ha ha ha! Methos is mine! Jk. Actually, I have an original character named Cymon (pronounced Simon) who satisfies many of my Methos cravings, so I suppose I can let you have the oldest living immortal. I like the idea of Harry as Joe. Makes me want to through in one of my favorite "quotes butchered by USA's attempt to cut out cuss words." Joe: Where's MacLeod? Richie: Oh, he went to whack the son-of-a- who killed her husband. Joe: Richie, you're the son-of-a- who killed her husband.
