Devil May Cry belongs to CAPCOM. I own the plot, nothing else. Hope you enjoy. I don't know when I'll update next.- Gadget
CHAPTER 5
They had been using a mild sedative to restrain the figure in room 118. But over time it became noticeable that the mild sedative wasn't enough to keep the figure in room 118 placid. They progressed to physical restraints and a much stronger sedative. A week later, the figure in room 118 had built up a resistance to the new sedative and the physical restraints had become frayed and useless.
They progressed to heavy chains.
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Dante parked his truck in the lot at Nevaeh, slamming the door and then walking around to the trunk bed. He pulled out Alastor and stuck the demon-made sword in the scabbard on his back. Then he checked his guns and made sure there was a round in both chambers. He wasn't completely sure if his special bullets would harm Devotion or not but he was pretty sure he'd find out.
Bubba wasn't at his normal post at the door; no one was at the door. It was unlocked and partially ajar. Dante nudged it with his foot; gun in hand. Once again Devotion sat at the bar nursing a glass of amber liquid. Her long dress touched the ground in a slinking wave, the soft light of the club reflecting off the purple cloth.
She drank the last of the liquid and sat the glass upside down on the bartop. "Hunter," She said.
"Devotion,"
She stabbed out a cigarette in the glass ashtray and then she stood. She sashayed her way to him as a suggestive beat began to pound from the hidden speakers. He did not holster his gun, if anything, his grip tightened on the weapon.
"Where's the demon?" He demanded.
Devotion moved to the music and Dante took half a step back while raising his gun.
"Where is the demon?" He repeated.
"I'm right here Hunter."
The woman that stepped from behind Devotion had to have been the dancer Blossom at one point in time. Her dyed hair was the color of cherry blossoms, long and wavy and luminescent in the club's lighting.
Dante knew that she was the demon he was hunting, as if Alastor vibrating on his wasn't a clue in itself, his own demon unfurled inside him. It could smell her, not the stereotypical scent of brimstone and sulfur but a smell like rotting apples and mold. Beneath that smell was the smell of decay and as Dante watched, the flesh began to peel away.
Author's note- Sorry for the shortness of the chapter and the time it took to post. I'll try to get to the next chapter as soon as I can.