Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry nor do I own the Avengers.

SORRY! I'm very forgetful about tibits, forgot to add Reboot on the summary :/ You are in your rights to be angry and through rotten tomatoes at me, here accept this slightly longer chapter that begs forgiveness on my mistake u.u

The Summoning

Chapter 3: Part 2: Hunted | Pepper

November

"This man," two photographs are tossed: a grainy picture of a man crouching next to a desecrated grave and another of the same man standing. "You keep contact with this man on a regular basis, what do you know of him?" – Because he is one sneaky bastard that has somehow managed to evade each one of my best operatives. Except when he's with you and even then he still manages to fall my radar along with yourself!

Ms. Lowell creased her brows; she brought both photographs close to her face in intense concentration. Confusion filled her eyes; tilting her head to the side with pursed lips she gazed intensely at one grainy picture absent-mindedly as she tossed the other to the side. Finally she put down the picture and shook her head, eyes still filled with confusion. "I don't know that man."

"Our evidence suggests otherwise, Ms. Lowell." Fury tossed another photograph this time it was clear close up picture. She was eating a strawberry sundae in a booth with a man nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels and a slice of pizza.

"Oh, that's Dante." She happily pointed at the man in red, relieved that she could give the strict man a straight answer. "That," she pointed at the other picture, "isn't him. His posture is too, I don't know – rigid I guess. He also looks too … un-Dante-ish. I mean Dante's a rude layback pig but that guys looks is completely not him, y'know. Not only that, look at what he's holding! That's not…"

As she continued babbling about Dante-this and that guy-this, Fury drowned her out. The few times that they hadn't immediately lost the man in less than five minutes he always carried a guitar case – a case they suspected hid some sort of weapon. The one time they had spotted the man without the case it was with a gleaming sword as long as the man is tall. He also carried himself with a blasé attitude; the man they were pursuing was different from his choice of weapon to the ominous aura he carried around himself. A katana was held in his left hand.

Twins, he had figured - this girl obviously hadn't.

"Hey, y'know, I might know someone who might know that guy! Lady, you should ask her, she's been Dante's partner for years. If anyone knows something, it's her!" She smiled evidently proud of herself.

He cast a quick glance at Ms. Lowell who up to this point hadn't revealed any conclusive information besides what they already know. "Lady who," he asked annoyed at her unhelpfulness.

"I don't know," she says exasperated. "She just calls herself Lady, I remember Dante almost saying her name one time and he got shot at! If it helps, she got these are like really pretty eyes - there like, really rare. Heterochromatic eyes, blue and red – she hates them though. Something about her father – talk about daddy issues – I mean, really, how can you hate something about yourself just because your dad had them too? She also has this scar on her nose and another on her thigh," she pointed at the bridge of her nose then on the back of her thigh to demonstrate exactly where.

"I think the girl happens to be affiliated with the wrong choice of friends," Bruce started.

"She's deflecting, she can't defend herself so she's pointing us to someone else to get help," Natasha put in her two cents. "She's telling the truth; whoever Lady is will no doubt know Dante."

"Found Lady," Tony said as he casually hacked into SHIELD from his tablet to display an old new article on the formerly black screen they had watched the interrogation in. "Some crazy chick that believes demons turned her father into a demon who then killed her mother."

The news article displayed a mug shot of an eleven years old girl, and like Patty said, had heterochromatic eyes, her brown hair matted with a completely hallow expression. The caption above the shot read: GIRL CLAIMS DEMONS KILLED HER FAMILY.

"Well there's that," Bruce stated dryly.

"She just pointed us to a wild goose chase, how is that even helpful?! The brats completely out of her mind, what will some mental patient offer us?" Clint huffed, still irritated with the chatterbox who's – in his opinion – existence is only to expel carbon into the already polluted air. Girls like Ms. Patty (Patricia) Lowell were annoying little airheads that Stark used to let hang on his arm, these type of girls would waste money, use their bodies for selfish gain, and basically leech on an unsuspecting rich dumbass to live the high life. Clint hated girls like Ms. Lowell; he preferred his women tough and intelligent, level-headed, and multipurposeful – if that is even a word – like Natasha or Ms. Potts.

"There's more actually, this woman is psychotic – completely shrouded mystery," Tony 'ooh-ed' for flare, the old news article replaced with an older looking version of the girl in white hospital gown, a little less comatose and more angry with a gauze wrapped around her nose. "Apparently her real name is Mary Anne Bollaert, she was institutionalized because she wouldn't accept that she witnessed her family being murdered in some occult ritual. After a lot of therapy she was declared a danger to herself, and others; she kept claiming that when she got out she would kill her father who was dead at the scene of the crime, although his body was never fully recovered and only pieces of him were found. She was nineteen when she escaped from the institution but they never bothered to find the chick. She had supposedly made a full recovery but placed on hold for reevaluation when she escaped; at the same time the place shut down due to 'unsightly conditions, unethical treatment of their patients, and immoral experimentations'. She was apparently considered 'a healthy minded person escaping hell'. Can you believe that, the chick says for years she wants to kill her already dead father who she says is a demon and they let her go? Fucking ridiculous, human stupidity amazes me sometimes."

"That was fifteen years ago, Stark, I doubt Ms. Bollaert is still that unstable anymore."

"Alright Captain Optimistic," Steve sent him a withering glare. "You keep thinking that! While the rest of us remain in the real world, where she is probably some psycho roaming killing 'demons'."

"Whether she is crazy or not," Fury entered with a dramatic flair that only he could pull off without looking like an idiot. "Is not up to debate, Ms. Lowell might not have helped, but she did unwittingly confirm some information and gave is a point into the right direction."

"Crazy Lady is a 'right direction'," Tony sarcastically stated.

"Mary Bollaert is an elusive woman, at thirty-four she is a mercenary that has managed to keep herself in the right side of the law. She knows people, and has involved herself in shady business. She hasn't been put behind bars because she works only under quid pro quo."

Suspicious of Fury's motives, Steve sits up even further with lips drawn into thin frown, "If you know all this, why hasn't this clearly dangerous woman been put away?"

For a moment Fury looked like he wouldn't answer the question, but upon seeing the questioning gazes of both Stark and Banner, Stark being one to hack his systems just to get the answer anyway who would then tell Banner and probably Rogers as well just to get him on his side. "Bollaert works for an underground secret organization knows as the DHA, the DHA works worldwide and are efficient at covering their tracks – sometimes even more so than we do, through her we have found out more information on the DHA and until we have a sufficient amount of data we will not have her put away."

"What's the DHA?" Steve discreetly looked around hoping to find someone as clueless as he was on the matter: both Stark and Banner looked just uninformed, he mentally sighed in relief at not being the only one - again. Steve blushed seeing Stark roll his eyes at him.

"A mercenary organization."

"So there's a possibility that Dante works under the same organization, and if so what would an organization like that want with –"

"Hold that thought Bruce," Tony stood up with his phone pressed to his ear. "What's up Pep!"

"Stark where in the middle of a debriefing, hang up now!" Fury snapped.

Wide-eyed, Stark gave Fury an incredulous look. "Hang up on Pepper, and lose my balls, no thank you."

Steve and Bruce heard it as clear as day just as Tony stiffens and panic sets in: Bruce hears because he is siting close enough to hear and Steve has enhanced hearing. Clint and Natasha sense something wrong immediately.

"Tony; I'm so scared right and I…I don't know… I'm being followed."

Human females are always the easiest to prey upon. Their basic maternal instincts to protect younglings will always be their downfall. It's so rare to come across callous female, but it is just as rare to find a pure hearted one. She is so delectable and her scent is a purity like no other, the virginal status of her soul is to die for. They will enjoy feasting on such a rare beauty.

She's all alone too, such easy prey.

Wait, what's she doing?

"…followed," a soft voice filled with fear. Ah, her basic primal instincts are warning her. Oh well, it's not like that will be much help to her.

Motioning to the one closest to the female, the seemingly young innocent boy steps out of the shadows, wariness fills her eyes. Acting the part of scared child, he makes no answer to her rapid fire questions for the "child's" voice will give him away. Without her notice more of the pack stalks out from the shadows. When he, the leader of the pack Younglings, steps out from the shadows she takes notice of how grievous of a situation she is in. The leader can hear her fluttering heart, altered breathing.

She motions to her ear for some reason, "Tony." She mutters, but she stops – jumping at the chittering sound coming from one of the "younglings".

She swallows, backing herself into a corner. Her rear bumps next that human contraption. Her hands fumbling for the handle of the door of the…car, is it? Wagon? Like that will save her.

His dark eyes follow her movements, in the background a male voice speaks rapidly. The voice is small and distant; it seems the sound is coming from her ear. Ah, another human invention.

The younglings nearest to her chitters, her blue hues flicker to the noise before bringing her attention to back to him, the leader. There is confusion and fear – panic in her eyes; and a sense of calm. Perhaps she has deluded herself into thinking everything is under control? It must be confusing for the human female; after all, it's not every day you get surrounded by emaciated 'children' ranging from ages eight to fourteen and one eighteen year old – well, there was a time that has long since passed when it was an everyday reoccurrence. As a group they are referred to as Younglings, but individually (depending on the "age") they are sprites or fairies – although sprite is a preferred term as a fairy is still but a babe. They are often confused for actual younglings – for they resemble human younglings to catch their prey easily.

He gives a sharp, jagged toothy grin. For her credit, she stiffens but remains with that façade she calls: calm.

"We do like a chase." He whispers softly.

She remains silent but the male voice in her ear still speaks rapidly although his tone is soft and calm as she stands before him. A sprite giggles manically, completely inhuman and demonic to the core. Slowly the chittering and giggling increases, the group of Younglings part to make a safe path for the female to get away, still she does not move a muscle. Accepting her fate?

He frowns. "If you don't run," his skeletal hand lengths, skin turns into leather like substance and fingers form into claws, dark and glistening at the tip. "We will kill you – however if you do, you have a silver of a chance to escaping with maybe a limb or two missing." He states softly – even though that's very much a lie. She won't get two feet before a sprite that's been hiding takes her down.

"Run, run, run as fast as you can," he sings his voice becoming distorted as it got louder. He crouches, his bones and flesh ripping as it adjusts for the hunt.

This time she runs, some of the younglings make a swipe for her legs but luck is on her side – it's a miss. The sprite that's been hiding jumps at her, scythe like arms aims straight for her back. She moves away just in time to avoid the fatal hit, her arm on the other hand is not so lucky. She screams, but still she runs and dodges the fatal swipes although not without gaining any injuries. It's okay though, for if they don't get her the poison that secretes from their claws surely will.

She uses those damnable human contraptions as shields and cover. The chittering turns into growls of annoyance and frustration. Growing tired of the game, he gives into the chase. Flipping over and destroying the wagons in the way. Where the hell is that female?!

He sniffs the air for that delectable scent, and lo and behold he finds her. She's breathing heavily, from blood loss and the poison that is painfully weakening her. He's heard that 'tis a tortuous way to die.

Lowering himself close to the floor, he stalks his prey. He could hear her faltering breathes, raises hand, fully intending to slice her pretty little head off.

To say the least, Pepper's scared shitless. The cuts on her arms and legs are burning; she could see some inflamed while others looked like battery acid was thrown on her injuries. Never has she been so thankful of accepting those defense lessons from Natasha. Unfortunately she isn't some battle hardened warrior, all she was doing was stalling for time, Tony and the others are on their way she reassured herself. Somewhere all the way of dodging and running for life she lost her only connection to Tony. She prays that Tony doesn't think she died or something.

Right now, she's hiding behind one of those obnoxious trucks. Her chest is burning like hell, every time she takes a breath it gets harder the next time around, and her ankle is swollen while her other leg has a cut deep enough that she could see the white of her bone. There is no way she's getting up anytime soon.

Oh god, she's going to die. It's impossible to keep running anymore.

Shivering, she pulls her nearly numb legs close to her chest for comfort. Her face is ashen white; she closes her eyes, waiting. Waiting for Tony, praying that Tony will get there on time; praying that when he does come, there wouldn't be any need for him to bury a body. She bites down hard on her lips to keep from screaming when she hears cars being turned over and tossed aside. She covers her whimper when her mouth fills with the copper taste of her own blood, eyes filled with unadulterated fear. Blood spills from her hand and dribbles down her chin; she closes her eyes and thinks of Tony.