Devil's Omen
Chapter 2 – The Demon Hunter
The youth stomped the table, causing the receiver of the phone to fly to his hand. In a bored voice, he drawled, "Devil May Cry," at the same time as the person on the phone asked, "Devil May Cry?"
"'Devil May Cry' isn't the password, chum."
"Wait, you kill demons for a living right?"
"That's about it," smiled Dante, "But I'm not doing any jobs for a guy without the password."
"There's a vampire on Slum Avenue. A vampire on a rampage. You need to come!"
Dante hated working for people who didn't use the password. But an active threat couldn't be ignored. He put down the phone and picked up his red trench coat, faster than anyone could even dream of. Drawing his sword, Rebellion and slinging it across his shoulders, he picked up his twin heavily-modified pistols Ebony and Ivory. He holstered them in a compartment on the back of his jacket. He ran to the door, kicked it off its hinges and charged away to meet his adversary.
The 66th Slum Avenue was full of screams. Dante walked calmly, yet he held Rebellion as tightly as a mother holds a child. The vampire stood next to the bar, in the middle of the sea of the dead. Dante, still calm, walked towards him, Rebellion at bay. The vampire's face was covered in blood. His face was hideous, yet if it was devoid of the blood or the deforming growths on his ears and forehead, it would have been almost handsome. He was half-naked, wearing only a pair of armoured trousers on his legs and a long red cape. His hands were tridactyl, Dante noticed with revulsion. Three cream-coloured claws issued from his hands. He had an expression of disgust upon his face. He turned, noticing him. His eyes were the colour of molten gold.
"No, no, no, ugly. No playing around like that." taunted Dante. The vampire's eyes widened. He had apparently never experienced such insolence.
"Perhaps this will teach you a lesson in humility, youngling!" said the vampire, as he used a Telekinetic push on Dante.
He felt the almighty push of a gargantuan hand as he was thrown back several metres. Yet, it didn't affect him in the least. He picked himself up and sneered, "From you, ugly? Forget it!"