Dante calmly walked down the sidewalks of the decaying city toward his apartment. He was somewhat calmed by the fact that nobody was looking at him strangely. He had walked down many streets in small villages around the world and always got the same look from people. Here in New York he felt semi-normal. Here he was - a red trench coat, the black strap-on gloves with matching boots and a belt that had a mean looking skull with eagle wings on the side and not a one person dared to glance at him. He figured that maybe it was because the people there kept to themselves and if they did make a move to notice, he would do something to them for their reaction or they really didn't care to notice him at all. Dante's thoughts were put at ease by that fact it was one way or the other.

When he arrived at the address of the apartment building he'd be staying in, which he had received before coming to New York, he looked at it with disgust. The building looked as if it had been condemned for years and nobody really took time out of their schedule to destroy it. This was how rundown it looked. It was so beaten and in disrepair that not a person even cared to bring a pair of tools to dismantle its inner structure.

He moved to the front of the building and opened the one door. He stepped inside and his boot hit a creaky old wooden floorboard. He stepped off of it quickly thinking that he would fall through into a dark abyss if he put too much weight on it. He put his foot on one of the boards right next to it and that one creaked at him even louder then the last. He rolled his eyes and moved on inside. He stood on the wooden floor afraid of falling through.

After his cautious entrance he looked around the bottom floor and wondered if anybody was staying there period. It looked like nobody had been in the place for ages. The wood on the floor and the walls had green aging mildew on them and only a small, red light lit up a small compressed staircase right next to a small service desk. This desk was placed in a dark corner of the room to Dante's right. He looked at the desk like it was more of a ghost then an object. Dante noticed a picture right next to the staircase and it was nearly faded away. It was a picture of a serene lake front. With trees and a faded barge. The barge was connected to a brown blotch of obsceneness. Light brown creases ran all along the picture from so many years of ageing and abuse.

He approached the service desk like it was an ancient evil that he could not sense. He looked it over and saw that it to had that green, vile, mossy look. It also had a small bell to the left. Dante looked at it intensely. Not because he was afraid of a small bell nor the building itself, he was just overwhelmingly curious to what would happen if he ringed it. He put his hand over it and rung it three times.

He heard a muffled cough come from a door behind the service desk. He turned his attention to it. He then saw it slowly ease open and saw an old black man step out. Dante could barely see inside the room beyond but he could see that it was somewhat furnished. He watched as the old black man slowly approached the desk and then in an ancient and battle-hardened voice he asked, "Who the hell are you?"

Dante's eyes did not intimidate the old man not for one moment and he could tell this. "I ordered a room over the phone. I'm Dante."

The old black man eerily chuckled at him and then said, "O.K boy, let me check my records here." He turned around and put a single hand to his back from old age surging through his spine.

On that hand, Dante noticed, an ugly mangled scar. The kind that humans get from a bad fire burn. The old man went back into the room behind the service desk and stayed in there for about two minutes.

While the old man searched his records, Dante was left a little un-eased about the condemned building. He thought to himself that the dark atmosphere of the apartment building was more ominous then most demonic monsters he had faced. Dante then ran his index finger down the desk and he looked at the tip of his finger. He saw a lot of dust and wasn't surprised. He had done it because he thought that maybe there was an actual evil presence in the building but he sensed none. The "wiping of dust" ritual was just to make sure. Usually in an evil building every piece of furniture is connected to the presence. By lightly touching one single piece he could determine whether or not the building was possessed.

When the old black man returned he had a key in his hand. It looked very old and used. Dante stared at it. The old black man handed it to him and said, "You'll be in room 8. It's the last door to your left on the second floor. Oh, and don't disturb the couple in room number 4. They like their privacy."

The old man returned to his room and Dante whispered the words, "Thank you."

The old man gave him a wave-off and a grumble not even turning his head to face him. He shut the door behind him and that was the last Dante ever saw of him.

Spinning the key on his finger, Dante then put it in his pocket. He slowly ascended the steps and came to a hallway. He also came to another set of steps but he followed the hallway. Following it all the way down to the end he stopped at a door with a black number 4 written with black marker. Listening, he couldn't hear anything but he figured he didn't want to. Cocking his brow he moved on coming to a door with no number on it. He took his room key out of his pocket and looked at it. He saw no number on it either even though the man downstairs told him room number 8. No number on the key. No number on the door. Must be the right door. He inserted the key inside the doorknob and slowly twisted it. He heard a click of the tumblers releasing and then pulled the key back out.

He entered the room quietly hoping that it was his room. When he was fully inside, he shut the door behind himself and inspected his new living quarters. It was a small room with not much in the way of filling necessities. He looked over to his left and saw a small prison like bed. It had a steel frame with a stained mattress on it. He really didn't need to worry about viruses nor diseases since he couldn't contract anything like that no matter how deadly. He then saw next to that a small shower stall with no shower curtain. Looking a little to the right of that and right in front of him was a shot out window and the breeze from outside was blowing a holey looking drape. Dante's sights began to move to the right wall and he saw a small dresser with one drawer. On top of it was a rotary dial phone. Dante thought to himself that the place was really outdated if all they had were rotary dial phones.

Walking over to the window, Dante moved the drapes and peered down into the streets and saw nothing but moving hoards of humans. It was a nice view though. He walked away leaving the Swiss cheese-like drapery to hang. He sat on the mattress and when he did he sunk down almost to the floor. He interlocked his fingers and gave the place one final glance and said to himself, "Better then nothing."

He then fell into a spaced state where not even the yelling people and the wailing sirens fazed him. He tried to sense out the demon's energy but there was plenty of evil beings in the city and the mere weight of it made it hard to find the demon. However, he found the demon in just three minutes. His mind waded through the evil energy until it came to a tremendously powerful and evil spirit. He could sense that this one brought all of it together. As if the evil energy surrounding it was just feeding it. This demon, whatever it was, was definitely at the center of it. As if the evil forces in the city had accumulated themselves for over a hundred years for this one evil entity.

Dante focused on the supreme evil energy for at least two hours before he heard a knock at his door. He got up from the stained mattress and went to the door. He unlocked it and only opened it a crack. He cautiously looked through the door and saw a small but well built man standing outside.

This man was wearing a black uniform and had a military hat on. He had a stern look on his face like he had been interupted from something. He was carrying a long brown box with world customs' stickers on the package. He produced an electronic signing board.

Dante opened the door completely and signed for it. The black uniformed guy then gave the package to him and then marched down the hallway like he was late for some unknown military drill. Dante just smiled at him. The black ops couriers were always the same no matter what country he was in.

Dante closed his door and locked it. He then sat the package down on the stained mattress and looked at it in joy. He opened it up and what was in it was a long black case. It was locked by two flip locks; one on each side of the case.

Slowly, Dante flipped the one on the left and then the one on the right. He then gently eased open the long black case. Inside he saw three things. He saw his black leather gun & sword combination holster strap. He slipped that over his head after he took off his red trench coat. He also saw his two guns; Ebony & Ivory. He took the two pistols out and slipped them into their respectable holsters. He then put his coat back on. He then began to look for his sword and found it strapped inside on the lid of the case. He released it and slid it onto his back. Where it got hooked to was a magnetic piece on the back of the gun & sword strap. Dante cracked his knuckles inside his strapped gloves. He was ready for action.

He closed the case back up and set it on the stand. It was longer then the stand and the stand was so weak that the heavy case made the desk a bit wobbly.

He stepped outside his room and locked his door. He then went down the hallway, down the steps, and out the front door. He walked out into the New York midday and felt a small summer breeze hit him. He then turned to his left and began to casually walk.

Now, he definitely expected to get some jeers but the more he walked, the more he saw people keep their heads down at him. He had never seen a city so good at minding its own business. Dante respected it a little. It was a true art form. They didn't bother him, he wouldn't bother them.

He walked for a long time before he came to a wide alleyway with a huge graffiti sign that simply read: RAT CITY. It was in big bold lettering and had been sprayed by a person who didn't look like they had had much practice in graffiti.

Dante turned in the alleyway and began to walk down it. As he walked, he sensed an eerie presence about the place. As if it was trying to draw something in. Like it had invisible lure that only certain people would hone in on. He felt a little upset but privileged that he could sense the lure. He also felt that power. He couldn't tell if he was closer or farther but this alleyway definitely had something to do with it.

He continued down into the inner darkness of self-named Rat City. He finally came to one of the many ends of Rat City and saw two bums drinking whiskey in a corner.

One was a middle aged black man with a red cap and a long, light, tan coat on. The other was a somewhat heavyset elderly white man with a white mustache. His hair, or what was left of it, was also white. They both had one thing in common; they were chugging the whiskey like there was no tomorrow. Dante slowly approached them. Hoping not to startle them because they looked pretty well drunk and they might do something stupid and he didn't want to resort to violence.

The black man saw him approaching first. He gave Dante an ice cold stair. He then got up and got a big smirk on his face as he struggled to get himself on his feet. He talked to Dante as soon as he had his balance in check which took him a long time to gain. "Well, what do we have here? What the hell are you suppose to be - huh -some jacked-up Shakespearian reject?" He took another big swig of the whiskey.

The elderly white guy got up having a harder time getting to his feet but it became apparent afterwards that it wasn't because he wasn't drunk. "Don't mind Bobby, he just can't hold his Jim Beam."

Dante starred at both of them. He could smell the despair emanating off of their souls. If this strong demon was anywhere in New York, he would definitely be here. Despair, hate, vengeance, physical and emotional pain. The perfect breeding ground for hellish chaos.

Dante figured that the black guy by the name of Bobby wouldn't know nothing but the elderly white wino might know at least something. He could feel all of the emotional agony coming off of this poor soul but he could also sense a sort of inherit knowledge deep inside of him. He approached the elderly man carefully as not to frighten him. He then looked him straight in the eye as he towered over the guy. "What's your name?"

The guy looked at him mysteriously and then replied, "Scarab."

"Please to meet you Scarab, I'm Dante." Dante was glad he found someone who was very cooperative but, of coarse, there was his worse half.

"Look man, we want no trouble! Now whatever kind of shit you been into we don't want none of it coming down here!"

Dante cocked his head towards him and stared at him with those stone blue eyes of his. That pure snow white hair and pale skin making the black wino nervous. The demon hunter's face stretched in a small smile and said, "I didn't come down here to escape, I came here to hunt."

Scarab gave him a scared look. "Hunt what?"

Bobby smacked his head and looked at his friend. "Jesus man, don't you get it, he's here for Al!"

Dante's curiosity peaked slightly.

Scarab just told Bobby to be quite and then looked back at Dante. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Down here for Al?"

"I don't know who that is."

"So what are you doing here?"

"There is a demon here and hunting season has begun."

Bobby smacked Scarab on the shoulder, "See man, I told you he was down here for Al!"

Dante's curiosity getting even more peaked by the moment. "This Al, he's a demon huh?"

"No!" Scarab shouted out. "He's just a little lost. Besides, he keeps the alleys safe."

"You may think he does but I can feel this demon and believe me he is no savior." Dante talking more to himself then to the winos.

Suddenly, Dante felt an ancient evil behind him. Not as dominate as the demon he was hunting but still powerful and old. Dante tore his sword from his back and looked in the darkness.

An old man, very tall and very skinny looking stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing a raggedy brown trench coat and he had his hands in his pockets. He looked at Dante with a cold stair and said, "Who's looking for the Hell spawn?" The voice even intimidated Dante to a certain degree.

Dante looked at the old man and said, "I am."

"Who are you kid?"

"Dante."

The old man backed up a step with very wide eyes. In a scarred voice he uttered, "The demon slayer!"

"Yeah" Dante's voice cooler then ice. "Who are you?"

The old man took a step towards Dante trying to fake some courage against the demon slayer. "Cogliostro!"

"I know you. You use to be a demon yourself."

"Yeah well, that's behind me now." Dante nor Cogliostro noticed but both Scarab and Bobby were gone. Probably sensing that something was wrong and they definitely shouldn't stay in the area.

Dante stared at Cogliostro. "Where is he?"

"I don't know."

Dante nodded his head in sarcasm. He didn't believe this guy at all. A former demon with a huge reputation in the black arts. No way.

Dante then felt a presence behind him drop out of nowhere. He felt it ooze into the alleyway like a bad plague. Dante just cocked his head in the direction behind him but did not look at the form. He knew exactly what it was.

From behind him he heard a deep and strong voice say, "Who's looking for me, old man?"

Dante knew this was the monster he was looking for. "I am."