The Hunter
By: Dionne R.
Disclaimer: Devil May Cry is property of Capcom. Tekken is property of Namco.
Chapter 2
00h00
Cheap beer induced the laughter which floated along the hallways of the small, bio-chemical engineering research facility.
"I'm contemplating selling some of these secrets to the CIA or something," one of the doctors spoke, moving the beer bottle from his lips, "That old Mishima fart doesn't pay us enough."
"Oi, mind the cameras, Jack," another doctor sputtered out through bits of laughter.
"What's the fugger gonna do? Kill us?"
The entire room erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter just before the lights went out. The laughter was abruptly quelled.
"I think I've had one too many Corona's…"
"What the hell'd you put in these things? I'm blackin' out already."
A few more laughs rose from the group as one of the less smashed doctors spoke up, "The lights went out, idiot."
"I'll go hit the emergency lights," another one of the intoxicated researchers spoke heading down the hallway.
The hinges of the laboratory door creaked, causing the remaining researchers to move around, agitated, trying to pin-point the source of the noise.
Before they could, a sound reminiscent of flapping wings drifted around the room.
"What the…."
The sentence was never completed. An agonizing groan filled the void instead. The other doctors began to back up into the darkness after hearing a loud thud. Two ran off while one unfortunate researcher backed into a table full of equipment.
"Please!! Don't—!!"
Another groan. Another thud.
"Where'd everyone go?" The youngest doctor returned from switching on the emergency lights to find the room evacuated and tousled. His eyes fell and he gasped, noticing the two bodies. Scampering back, he bumped into a hard torso. Turning around, hoping for familiarity, his face twisted in unparalleled horror.
Fangs were his greeting. Fangs, and a stony glare fitted with red, burning eyes.
The man couldn't utter a syllable before the lurid-eyed figure lifted him by the throat.
That asshole tricked me, Dionne thought as she sharpened her sai. After trying to enlist one of the most prominent demon hunters to help her find Jin, she learned he'd already been hired by Heihachi. To kill Jin…again, she thought with a bitter chuckle.
Flipping the sterling silver family heirlooms on her index fingers, she slipped them into the inconspicuous sheathes on her black yoga pants. Grabbing a rubber band to put her hair up into a ponytail, she then reached for her motocross jacket—unveiling a picture of her and Jin.
"You've never even met him," Dionne said as gently as she could, "I mean, if he were a concerned grandparent, he would have wanted to meet you sooner."
"What choice do I have, Di? Mom's…" Jin couldn't finish his sentence. He swallowed, and grudgingly finished his coffee.
She picked up her helmet and slipped her hair under it.
The young woman took his face in her hands across the table, "I told you, we could move in together…"
Jin set a hand over hers and nuzzled it gently, closing his eyes with a sigh. He was silent for a moment.
"I'll call you later," he finally said. Picking up his book bag and slugging it over his left shoulder, he rose. Kissing his girlfriend, he turned and headed for the limousine waiting outside the café.
Dionne swallowed the anxiety building up in her throat, and left her apartment.
Dante's hunting intuition was burning in his chest. It was something he could never quite explain, but his bounty was always caught within 24 hours of the sensation. Cemeteries often triggered his instincts, but never so strongly. Setting his right hand on his gun, he couldn't even turn around before a strand of metallic links connected with his jaw. The force and inertia sent him cartwheeling through the air, hitting the ground like a stone being skipped on water.
Landing against a granite mausoleum, Dante looked just in time to dodge the fatal blow aimed at his head. He yanked out his sword. Slicing wind rather than his opponent, the blade was lodged into the wall as Jin moved back.
The demon was silent, as two lurid slits narrowed beneath furrowed brows. A wry smirk formed on his tattooed face and a smug grunt erupted from his throat.
Dante rose to his feet, dislodged his sword, and walked close enough to encircle his arrogant prey. Fiesty, he thought, flicking debris from his shoulder.
Gripping the sword, Dante lunged at Jin. The demon deflected the blade aimed at his heart with the chain links wrapped around his left wrist. Rather than attempting to discard the blade altogether, Jin grabbed both of the hunter's shoulders and pulled him to the ground. He then kicked at Dante's abdomen, sending him flying back. Jin completed his roll and turned around to see—much to his chagrin—that his opponent had already made it to his feet. More unfortunately, he was pointing a gun straight at his forehead.
It was the demon slayer's turn to smirk now. Just as his trigger finger instinctively coiled, a metallic clank distracted his concentration. A silver sai connected with his firearm—the longest dagger pinning the gun against the granite wall.
Jin's face morphed from shock to anguish as he soared into the night. The two remaining hunters were thrown off guard momentarily; but the prey was air bound before anyone could strike.
Even after a year, seeing his face—or what was left of it—forced Dionne's stomach into knots. With the pissed off demon hunter in front of her, though, she couldn't focus on the wave of various emotions overcoming her. Judging from the look on his face, a fight was bound to ensue.
Silver locks fell over Dante's steely-hued eyes. She could still see him glower at her under the pale moonlight.
"Who…the fuck…are you?"
She opted for silence, though she was ready for anything.
He walked over to his blade, kicking it up and keeping a firm grip on the handle, "No? Alright. Who sent you?"
Dionne pulled the spare sai from her back and flipped it with the one she already held in her left hand. Sidestepping silently, she eyed his stance. She wasn't taking any chances—especially since he hadn't yet sheathed his weapon.
"Well, whoever you are, that was once. Disrupt my kill again, and it'll be you," pointing the tip of his sword for emphasis, "to take his place." Dante then turned his back, sheathing the blade. He walked over to the wall where his gun was still dangling from her sai. He yanked the point out, and took his gun, letting her weapon fall to the ground.
"That's it?" she countered, tilting her head to the side, relaxing only slightly.
Dante looked over his shoulder, but didn't bother turning around, "I already warned you. As far as I'm concerned, there's no more business here."
She narrowed her eyes at him, but in her periphery, she noted a moving shadow. Focusing her eyes in the darkness, she hurled the sai towards the blur.
Dante spun around and withdrew his sword, ready to take her on; but he heard the thud close behind him. Both noted the masked figure who hit the ground within a foot of him.
"Glad to see you can do more than just play with your knives," he muttered, only partially concealing his surprise as he walked over to the body and pulled the sai out.
Despite his sarcasm, she smirked smugly, "I can do a lot more than that," she countered.
Dante couldn't help but quirk his lip into a smirk as he handed the weapon to the bounty hunter before pulling the corpse's mask off. "Interesting," he spoke, recognizing the man as one of Heihachi's personal bodyguards.
Dionne walked a few feet past where Dante stood and sheathed her sai, "What's interesting?"
Silence was her reply. She turned around and found the demon hunter gone.
00h48
Rubbing a temple as a light breeze blew through the window, Heihachi struggled to decipher the scroll. Sparda you bastard, he thought to himself. Rather than giving himself a worse migraine for the night, he switched the television on in time to hear a blonde news woman giving an update.
"…a homicide in a local cemetery. The victim, a Joseph Marquis, was found with a stab wound to the chest…"
The old man clenched his jaw and turned the volume down as his office phone trilled.
"Why the hell am I hearing about Marquis on the news?!" he snapped through the receiver.
"It was a slight mishap…" the voice on the line tried to explain.
"A 'mishap'? Dropping a nuclear bomb on a third-world country is a fucking mishap! Is she dead?"
The speaker hesitated, "No sir."
"You're not much use to me alive, are you?" the conglomerate snapped, slamming the phone down. Heihachi knew he wouldn't waste time or energy killing a measly body guard. The measly body guard on the other end did not.
Regaining his composure, which he knew was essential, Heihachi sighed and folded his hands. He sat back in his chair, Plan B he thought.
72 hours later…
Dionne kneeled in front of the altar. Her face was bathed in candle light as she closed her eyes, muttering silent prayers. After the other night, she needed them. Dante had confused her—he could have killed her for getting in his way. Perhaps I should have let the guy kill him, she thought.
Deciding not to dwell on it further, she stood up and sighed. The priest was occupied with another, more devout member of the church; so she opted to leave.
The night was a bit chilly, and the moonlight seemed to add a bit of frost to the atmosphere. Still, this wasn't the reason for the shiver down her spine. After flouncing down the steps, she turned to observe the church's silhouette against the night sky. The same tingling from her last visit aroused her senses. She set her right hand on the gun, which once again rested in her jeans behind her back. Maintaining this stance for a moment, she finally convinced herself she was thoroughly paranoid. It's all in your head, DeLavega, she thought, turning around to head home.
"Holy shit," she nearly jumped out of her skin as she found herself looking into Jin's eyes. Caught between scolding herself for not being more intuitive, and wanting to jump on him, she decided the latter was more appropriate.
Jin didn't reciprocate the affection.
"What happened to you?" she asked gently, moving away from the firm embrace to caress his cheek.
He was silent, and removed her hand from his face. His eyes were cold, hard, unfamiliar. "Why did you get in the way?"
Her caring smile faded, "What, you mean when he had the gun to your head?"
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he snapped at her, "And if you interrupt again, I'll not leave you to him. I'll finish you myself."
She was too shocked for words, "Jin…"
He turned his back on her, "Stay away from me."
"Who the fuck are you?" walking around him until she stood in his path, "And what did you do with the Jin I loved?"
The demon was no longer covered by any sort of shadow, and the bounty hunter could truly see into his eyes. They were pale with the exception of two black pupils. She clenched her jaw to prevent herself from shivering.
Reaching out and clasping his hand around the girl's throat, he yanked her face close to his own, "The one you knew is dead. The one here now has neither need of you, nor concern for you," he paused to let his words sink in. "You're alive for now; though I won't hesitate to snap your little neck," squeezing at her trachea slightly to prove it. "I have more than enough blood on my hands. A bit more won't make a difference," shoving her away. "You've been warned." He leapt into the air and bound into flight.
Dionne coughed violently from the cold hands which squeezed some of her air out. Her mind was reeling, not able to process the reality: this wasn't some twisted nightmare. The demon who so nearly ended her life just now was Jin—or what had replaced him.
My God, Dionne thought sadly. She blinked back tears, and started her trek home. Rubbing her throat, she couldn't ignore the voice in the back of her mind which echoed the truth: He has to die.
08h15
Why am I in this office again? Dante thought as he walked through Heihachi's door.
"Prompt as usual," the Japanese elder smirked at the young man. Then, he got directly to the point, "So I heard your catch was interrupted."
"You heard, huh?" raising a silver brow.
Continuing the game, "I also heard the one responsible for interrupting your catch is still walking. Why?"
"I'm a demon hunter. You want a hit man, look elsewhere. Now if you don't mind…" Dante trailed off, turning around to leave.
"Dionne DeLavega," Heihachi said, leaning back in his chair.
The demon hunter took two more steps before stopping; he turned to look at the old man, "The bounty hunter?"
"Yes, her reputation precedes her…"
"And let me guess: I should use her as bait?" cutting him off.
"Precisely," smiling, "Then kill them both. If you kill Jin and leave her alive, she'll try to avenge him."
"How much?" Dante finally inquired.
"How much is it worth not to have your job interrupted anymore?"
"My job was to get you Jin. You want me to take out another hunter, it's gonna cost you."
"Always a professional, huh?" Heihachi toyed further, "Fine. Forty grand."
Dante thought of the cryptic woman who interrupted his kill. She's an innocent, he thought to himself, but sighed. If Heihachi wanted her dead, he'd have her dead—with or without his help.
"So?" Heihachi stared.
"Consider it done," he grumbled. Not wanting to stick around for any more propositions, Dante turned around and left without another word.
Jin watched the transaction, perched on the ledge of a building directly across from the Zaibatsu. As if he didn't have enough on his mind, seeing the old man at work made his blood boil. So many innocents killed at his hands. Though he never wanted it, he was a Mishima through and through; the murders sealed it. Pressing his eyes shut, he thought of Dionne. How he so nearly squeezed the life out of her. A slight twinge of pain—which he didn't think he was capable of any longer—shot through his chest. Grunting a bit, he tried to erase her from his mind. How could she love the monster he'd become? How could she understand what had to be done? He shook his head, knowing there was no hope of returning to his old life until the Mishima line was finished. In the few moments he spent gathering his thoughts, he noticed the demon hunter exiting Heihachi's office.
So Gramps went through all the trouble of hiring the Son of Sparda to chase me? Why am I not surprised? He thought, with a snort. Now, he had a new reason to track Dante down, besides mere precautionary measures. It was a simple matter of kill or be killed.
Judging from their last encounter, Jin knew the demon hunter was probably one of the only people on earth capable of this feat.
"Let the hunt begin," the demon whispered, his words blown away in the wind as he flew through the abandoned area.
18h02
A red target was painted on an oak column inside the dojo. The wood splintered at the bullseye point as the sterling silver sai flew into it.
Dionne nodded in satisfaction as she walked over to retrieve her weapon. She pulled it from the wood, and set it down with the other two.
She looked at the wall-high mirror at the back of the dojo, searching her own eyes. A tinge of pain streaked through her chest as she touched her throat, remembering how Jin had grabbed her. Grabbed her as if he never ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her lips; as if she meant nothing to him.
Rage then took the place of pain. The dingy punching bag felt the woman's fury as she executed a roundhouse kick followed by a series of punches. The chain creaked as the bag dangled. Hunters had no time for pain; it permeated one's senses, and caused even the best to slip up. Dionne took a deep breath. Rage turned to concentration and focus—her only allies.
Turning her back on the training equipment, she picked up her sai, and headed into the back locker room. A gym bag was open with a towel and change of clothing. Pulling the items out and slipping her sai into the bag, she sat down to take off her cross trainers. Standing up to bounce on the balls of her feet, she started to slip off her tank top. The cocking hammer of a semi-auto interrupted her.
She spun around, cursing herself for getting caught off guard, and stared into Dante's calculating, blue eyes.
"So you're Dionne. I expected a guy," he admitted.
"Most guys do. So…to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Certainly, not my good looks?" she spoke, setting her right hand on her hip. Depending on the demon hunter's response, she could always pull the pin holding her hair up, and stab him somewhere in the neck.
"You never did tell me why you interrupted my job the other day," he started off, ignoring her sarcasm.
"Oh don't tell me your pride is just feeling the blow now. Talk about delayed response," rolling her eyes, and turning her back on him, "And would you please get that thing away from me if you're not going to shoot me?"
Dante was more than a little surprised, but he simply moved the gun an inch or so away from her head, and fired at one of the lockers.
Dionne faced him now, and his gun was lowered—though still accessible. She sighed, "I was trying to save him," she chuckled bitterly and shook her head.
"I figured as much. Why would you try to save a beast?"
"Because," she shrugged, "I knew what he was before he was a monster." She sighed, "But now I realized I was better off helping you kill him rather than helping him evade you."
Can't say I was expecting that, Dante thought. "Oh?"
"He wouldn't want to live this way."
"What if there was a way to save him? For you to have him back?" he spoke slowly, as if his conscience was choosing now—of all times—to kick in. "Would you try?"
She narrowed her eyes, obviously confused, "Why would you try to help me?" Clearly, she was referring to the conflict of interest due to who his employer was.
"True; but as soon as Jin is human, he'll be as good as dead to Heihachi. You get Jin, I get paid. Everyone's happy," he shrugged.
"And I'm just supposed to take this all in good faith?" she asked skeptically.
"Look," he said, finally putting his gun away. He closed the space between them a bit, in order to stare her in the eyes, "Whether or not you work with me, I'll get what I want."
Her spine tingled, and she stepped back to put space between them again, "Fine; I'm in."
He nodded. "I'll be in touch."
She groaned and stripped to go shower once he was out of her sight.
