Trish
It was late Saturday night, sliding slowly towards early Sunday morning in the Red-light district. The streets were for the most part deserted, only the occasional car drove by shining their front lights over the staggering vagabond that wandered aimlessly around the same block over and over again.
A lone hooker was standing in the pouring rain under a lonesome umbrella, wet cold and tired she was just waiting for that one last client. There was just one reason why she did what she did for a living; never to do it again. God how she hated it when they reached inside her and tore loose a fraction of her soul, her innocence and only left some pieces of paper with ink on them for her trouble.
The sound of the pouring rain drowned the hissing sound that came from the manhole cover just across the street. A flickering street light threw a covering flash over the yellow and golden like sparks that crept out from the cracks. Nothing in the street made any attempt in hiding the following steam rising, then again why did they have to? Steam coming up from a manhole cover wasn't really all that unusual.
A car came driving slowly down the street. If it had only come a few seconds later the hooker would have noticed and her common sense would have told her to get the hell out of the way. Yet none of that happened, her tired mind saw only the car and that would soon snatch away whatever was left of her damned soul.
«Hey baby, are you on the clock?» The driver asked her as he pulled over. The manhole cover was shoved carefully aside by a pair of beautiful shaped woman's hands. «Sure sugar, are you looking for a date?» She said, leaning through the car window giving her client a sneak preview on her «merchandise». None of the two noticed the blond lady that came climbing up from the manhole from across the street.
Business went down pretty much as usual; he a horny desk slave looking for some action and fun since he blew his chance of marriage a good decade ago. Her a broken shell of a woman that could have been living a sane life, but made a wrong turn during junior high and would die on the streets she'd grown to hate.
The blond lady walked around and behind the car on quiet naked feet. She wasn't wearing a single thread, nor any shame over her lack of clothing. Without a word or change of facial expression she grabbed the hooker's free arm and twisted it around her back until an audible snap of bones breaking could be heard.
A cry of pain, a moment of shock and disbelief followed by a calm silence. «Got to go, girl talk.» The blond lady told the driver. Locking her other arm around the whore's neck, she surrounded the two of them in a yellow like glow and started sending sparks of the same color flying around her.
He didn't have much of a life, but a damn whore wasn't worth loosing the little he had left, so he closed the window and drove off terrified that he might be next. Fear. What a tickling smell, the blond woman smirked to herself before she attended to the business at hand.
The spell was a simple one, it was basically like hitting the fast forward button on a DVD player. Fast forwarding someone's aging was never a pretty sight, but as hideous as it was to behold, it didn't take less than a minute to reduce the whore to a dried in mummy of skin, bones and clothes.
Dropping the carcase as if it wasn't worth the trouble of holding up, the blond lady knelled down and started to peel of anything that might prove handy. Clothes, money, make-up, ID card, keys to the apartment and some other handy items. «Earth, what a shit hole.» The blond woman snorted as she got dressed. High boots, black tight sitting leather pants and a revealing black leather top that looked a little like a corset, they all hugged her curves perfectly. «So this is something to die for, huh?» She asked her reflection in a puddle.
In another part of town, Dante was running like mad down yet another narrow back alley. It wasn't a job he'd been given by a client, it was more of a random chance to get some killing done. The little rascal was a fast little fucker, but Dante managed to keep up. He'd already taken down 7 of them a few blocks back as they were feeding on a dead dog. The last one had a little more than primitive instincts to keep the brain running, since it took to its senses and tried to make a run for it.
It jumped up and rounded a corner at the same time, its claws scratching high up at the opposite wall before it landed on the ground again and carried on with its desperate escape. Dante followed after in a similar fashion, making a few steps of running along the opposite wall as he too rounded the same corner.
Drawing his gun, Dante quickly slammed in a full clip and opened fire after the demon. 8 angry roars of a gun fired rang through the walls and fled into the open street ahead. Running and shooting at the same time is a hard thing to do, yet Dante had somehow managed to get the hang of it to a certain degree.
For the most part the bullets just grazed the demon, making it leak its blue blood out on the street, but the two last bullets made a home run and hit the demon hard and bad. Loosing its footing, the demon tripped over, rolled forward and landed flat on its back.
It wasn't very big, at the size of a fair sized dog. It just lied there, panting out of breath and drooling badly. Some people had halted their daily routine to watch what the commotion was all about. Dante took no note of them as he walked straight up to the demon and planted another 8 bullets flat in its chest.
For each shot the little body jerked around violently, blood and guts spilled and splashed around as the bullets cut through. Without a word, Dante grabbed it by one of the hind legs and dragged it back to where he'd come from. People stared at him in awe, but Dante took no notice of it. His face was locked in hard determination and his mind was elsewhere.
Dumping the dead demons in the nearest container, Dante put some effort in hiding the dead bodies under standard trash just in case. True that Dante never really gave much of an effort to keep his business a secret, but there was no point in painting it all over the town.
It had been fun, though right now Dante was more in the mood for a few relaxing hours in front of the TV than anything else. Backtracking all the way back to his bike, Dante mounted it and just as he was about to turn the key around he got the feeling that he was being watched.
Looking around, Dante saw no one, however that didn't mean that it was all in his head. After all, Dante was somewhat of an expert when it came to the supernatural so he of all people should know. Then the feeling disappeared as soon as it as arrived.
Feeling that there was a storm brewing, Dante finally turned the key around and drove home. Storms had come and gone before, each time Dante had been the last man standing when another bites the dust. This storm was probably no different from the others.
Well at home, Dante took a shower to wash away the stench of demon blood, gunpowder, sweat and death. Feeling refreshed, Dante walked downstairs to put his sword away and clean his guns. Hanging his sword on the wall, Dante took a seat behind his desk and started taking his pistols apart.
Humming on some rock tune he'd heard on the radio earlier, Dante fumbled around in a drawer in his desk until he found what he was looking for. Carefully he cleaned every corner both inside and outside of his guns. Now that he thought about it, it had been some time since his bike had been given the same attention. He'd better give El Burro a call one of these days he thought to himself.
The doors to his office opened and a woman entered. She walked casually towards his desk as she looked admiringly around at his decor «Well, well, what do we have here? Nature calls? It's in the back.» Dante mumbled as he kept most of his attention at his guns.
At last the woman arrived at the front of his desk. «So you're the handy man that will take on any dirty job, am I right?» She asked him. Shit, Dante thought. For once he'd like to have some time off, but it couldn't be helped, now could it? «It depends.» He said, rising from his chair.
«I only take special jobs, if you know what I mean.» He carried on, taking his sword down from the wall and swinging it about. There was something about this lady that brought an edge to Dante's senses. Better to be safe than sorry, since evil can have a thousand faces and ten thousand hearts.
«You're the man that lost a brother and mother to evil 20 years ago, Mr Dante.» The woman stated with a faint smirk on her lips. Taking a seat on the edge of his desk, resting the sword between his legs, Dante tilted his head at her. «Well, the way I figure it is that if I kill every single one of you that comes along, I should eventually hit the jackpot sooner or later.» He said to her, pointing the tip of his sword at her.
«In that case...» She said, putting her tiny fingers along the blades edge. «...you should be used to this sort of thing.» Then all of the sudden her hand was engulfed in a glowing golden light with hissing sparks to boot. Planting her full palm down on the blade, the energy she'd gathered in her hand shot down the blade and into Dante like a bolt of lightning.
Dante would have dropped the sword and reached for his guns, but that wasn't much of an option since he had disassembled them pretty good. So Dante clung to his sword despite the pain. Finally there was a last shockwave that knocked Dante off his feet and sent him flying a few feet backwards.
The woman wasted no time, as she flipped the sword around and threw it at Dante's chest like a javelin. It never felt good to be stabbed half to death, especially by your own sword. Dante felt his darker half rising, scratching his claws inside his cage, yearning for a release.
As if stabbing him with his own sword wasn't enough, the woman was determined to keep Dante pinned down by continuing her energy attack. This time it felt much worse, since the blade was inside Dante. It felt like his blood was boiling, yet he didn't scream, he endured it to the best of his ability.
«Is this really the son of the great Sparda? Didn't your daddy teach you how to use the sword?» She laughed as she kept on zapping Dante. Then it something dark and sinister snapped free from its chains inside of Dante's being.
The transformation fast quick and grotesque. Large bat-like wings shot out from his shoulder blades, fangs formed in his mouth, his eyes went milky pale, his hands turned crude and dark with hideous claws to boot.
Grabbing the hilt of his sword, Dante yanked it out with a single motion. Covered in black blood, Dante swung the sword at the woman with an animal like roar that made the walls in his office shake. He missed the woman's face by a hairs width, but at least he managed to knock off her sunglasses.
Evidently the woman was taken aback by this sudden change and staggered backwards before she fell. «Even as a child I had powers. There's demonic blood in me, given to me by the bastard that married my mother.» Dante said in a dreadful tone of voice. Putting the tip of his sword at the woman's chin, he raised her head a little.
«You were the first to know about my vengeance. Guess I must be getting close.» Dante said as he made the woman turn her head around to face him. Dante's hard facial expression softened the instant their eyes met. This was just not possible.
«So you are the son of Sparda. I'm sorry, I had to be certain. Know that I am not your enemy.» The woman said, slowly rising to her feet. «I come on the behalf of Trismagia, oracles who have the knowledge of the demon world.» She carried on.
Dante just stood there dumbstruck staring at her. This wasn't happening, there was just no way this was happening! «I've come to ask for your help, to bring an end to the Underworld.» The woman told him, though at this point Dante was only half listening.
«20 years ago the Dark Emperor Mundus resurrected. He was sealed away by Sparda and He's preparing to open the gate to the Underworld once more.» She explained. «Mundus?» Dante asked. That name rung a distant bell in his mind. The woman nodded.
She motioned him to follow him, but he grabbed around her wrist holding her back. «Just one thing; who are you?» He asked her, sounding genially concerned. «My name is Trish.» She told him, smiling slightly. «Is there a problem?» She asked him. «No, I just took you for someone else, that's all.» Dante brushed the issue away.
«So now we go over to this oracle of yours for some tea, cookies and doomsday prophecies? Dante asked once they were outside. «Something like that.» Trish sniggered. «We better get a taxi, so could you... erm, «tone down» your looks a little?» She suggested. Looking down on himself, Dante realized he hadn't changed back to his more normal self yet.
«Screw that, just give me the address and I'll fly over.» Dante replied, flapping his wings a little. «That's not quite how it works...» Trish said. «Don't tell me that this is one of those «they dwell in a little dream-world of their own» ordeals?» Dante groaned. «Something like that, yes.» Trish nodded.
«Goddammit! What's wrong it a down to earth address and doorbell? Selfish fuckers.» Dante complained. «You're free to fly, as long as you can take me with you.» Trish supplied. «You should have told me so in the first place, dumb ass.» Dante grunted before he lifted her up and soared for the skies.
Under Trish's guidance they arrived at a deserted looking apartment complex. «This whole place seems awfully familiar.» Dante mused to himself after he changed back to his human self. «Oh? You've been here before?» Trish asked sounding a little surprised. «Nawh, it reminds me of the first Matrix movie, when Neo went to see the oracle.» Dante shrugged.
The two entered the apartment and looked around. The place was as abandoned as the rest of the building, if not even more. The walls were naked and all the rooms were stripped of anything that could be referred to as furniture. «What? No cookie cooking old lady to tell me that «I'm the One»?» Dante commented dryly.
Trish ignored Dante's comments and walked over to the living-room. «Step inside the symbol and I'll summon the oracles.» She instructed. «Yeah, yeah, yeah.» Dante mumbled as he walked into the center of a large symbol drawn on the floor.
Obscurity filled the room as Trish sat down in a kneeling position and started chanting spells in a strange language. Dante was still on his edge, there were issues here that simply didn't add up. This whole ordeal could be a trap, but he was willing to take that chance. He had to know, he just had to.
The symbol on the floor glowed and Dante lost sight of reality as he drifted into the realm of the oracles. Out from the pitch black fog came a gigantic head, actually it looked more like 3 heads merged into one. Quite the sight, even by Dante's standards.
«Son of Sparda.» It said in a hollow voice of ancient knowledge. «Dante's the name, devil hunting's the game. So what's cooking?» Dante asked. «The Dark Emperor has resurrected.» Trismagia said, ignoring the joke Dante had delivered. «Yeah, they'll probably raise Elvis from the dead next, huh?» Dante said, already being bored by the stiffness of Trismagia.
«You're the only one that can prevent His dominion of the mortal realm.» Trismagia stated. «Because I'm the son of Sparda?» Dante couldn't resist asking. «Indeed, do you accept this burden, son of Sparda?» Trismagia asked. «Throw in a Lamborghini and you've got yourself a deal.» Dante shrugged. «The gratitude of all of mankind will be your reward, son of Sparda.»
Trismagia withdrew from the scene and soon the room returned to normal. «How did it go?» Trish asked as she dusted off her pants. «We didn't seem to agree on a payment, but other than that we saw eye to eye.» Dante shrugged indifferently. «Excellent.» Trish smiled. «It's time to start your training then.» She added.
Training? «Listen lady, I don't need any training what so ever.» Dante objected. «Oh really? You're just as skilled as your father?» Trish asked. «Close enough.» Dante replied. «Impressive. Your father spent more than 5000 years training. It is quite a feat to achieve the same skills in merely two decades.» Trish said with a clear tone of sarcasm.
She knows a lot, more than me. Better thread lightly until I know where I have her, Dante thought to himself as they left the apartment. «Tell me, just what do you do when you fight demons?» She asked him as they rode the elevator to the ground floor. «What I do? I just go with the flow.» Dante shrugged.
Smiling, Trish turned and looked over her shoulder. «That might have kept you going until now, but you're up against bigger and madder demons this time around. Going with the flow simply won't cut it.» She assured him. «Bull, horse and sheep shit all in one.» Dante objected.
Outside Trish decided to prove her point. «I did rough you up pretty badly at your office earlier, didn't I?» She said. «Beginners luck.» Dante snorted. «Then hit me, if you can.» Trish said, taking a stance. Might as well give her this one dance, Dante sighed mentally.
Trish started out with some fresh and sparkling material arts combat moves. She was flexing between Kung Fu, Karate, and Aikido obviously to keep Dante on his toes and make sure she didn't move according to a pattern that could be analyzed for weaknesses.
True she did get in a kick here, a punch there and two times she even managed to grab a hold of Dante, only to throw him half across the yard. All in all though, they were quite equally matched. «So much for warm up, lets get serious.» Trish panted slightly.
Again her hands became engulfed in golden light, though this time it was far more concentrated at the center of her palms. Was she going to start throwing balls of golden thunder after Dante? If so, she better do the talking when the cops showed up.
The golden light reached a climax and then faded rapidly away. In its place were a gun in each hand, not all that different from Dante's own. «Guns are one thing, bullets is another.» Dante shrugged. Unfortunately for Dante, magically generated guns don't have much need for bullets or reloading for that matter.
He'd been shot plenty at times before (even had the scars to prove it, should there be any doubt), so it would take more than a pair of hand sized cannons to scare him off. However, once Trish did open fire it hurt a lot, much more than a usual gun.
Dante suspected that it had more to do with how the guns were made, rather than their caliber «Two can play this game!» He shouted as he leaped up into the air, turned up-side down and as he spun around his own axis, he emptied his guns at Trish's location.
The instant he landed, Trish was gone. Bruised, shot at and bleeding, Dante remained calm and started to circle around in the area looking for Trish. Reloading his guns as he walked between the tall structures, Dante's senses were on high alert. His darker half had already started scratching its claws on its chains, but for now Dante could keep it under control.
In a fraction of a second the peace that hung gently over the yard was shattered. Trish had been hiding down in the sewers and decided it was time to pull Dante down in the mud as well. The dirty water sent a burning pain through all his gunshot wounds, yet he endured it. It would take a good 5 minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting down here.
Trish had again the upper edge. «How's the flow flowing?» He could hear her, but he'd be damned if he could see her. Admitting defeat wasn't much of an option either, it never had been so why should he start now?
Then it came, a hand grabbed his head from behind and smashed his face hard against the brick-wall again and again until Dante was seeing spots in front of his eyes. Bleeding badly from his forehead and nose, Dante fumbled around at his opponent.
At last he got a grip at Trish's arm with both of his hands. He spun around, hoping to throw Trish off balance and get the upper hand from there on. Trish on the other hand countered by spinning around in mid air as if she was a gymnast going for the Olympic gold.
Dante still had both of his hands locked around her arm, when all of the sudden she pulled him close to him only to whack her forehead into his and follow up with a harsh kick to the stomach.
The winds were rarely knocked out of Dante, but this was more than even he could handle. Falling down on his knees, Dante could do little aside from gasping for air and coughing up what seemed to him to be gallons of blood.
«Pathetic, predictable and amateurish.» Trish sighed with disappointment. «Stop flattering yourself girl, I was holding back.» Dante managed to get out between the gasps. «That makes us two.» Trish noted before heading for the ladder leading up to the streets.
Beaten by a girl, that was a new one, he thought to himself. Dante was worried for two very good reasons. First off he'd finally met his match, or at least so it seemed. Secondly he knew all too well that there were some nasty critters that wanted him dead and they'd stop at nothing to do so. If they knew about Trish...
The sun light stun in his eyes as Dante reached the surface. One of the first things he saw was Trish's hand, offering itself to him. He declined her kindness and took a seat on the ground, letting his feet dangle down the manhole. «Anything else?» He asked her finally.
Trish squatted down in a crouch, tossing her head around a little to get the hair out of her face. «I'll be around should you need me. You should focus on honing your skills and staying alive of course. Humanity needs a savior, not an ugly looking corpse.» She told him.
Dante wanted to tell her something, but the chance slipped through his fingers as Trish suddenly leaped high into the air and landed at the top of the apartment complex that housed Trismagia. From there she quickly jumped from one roof top to another until she was out of view.
Looking down on himself, Dante's mind was suddenly brought around. He had at least 9 bullet wounds scattered about on his arms and torso. Wounds needed to be tended and that preferably before his favorite TV show started, since his VCR was busted.
Limping down the back-door entrance to the Raccoon City police station wasn't something that Dante was unaccustomed with. He'd been here plenty of times, since the basement of the R.P.D. housed the only doctor he'd ever grown to trust.
Dr Ada Wong might be a forensic detective, but she knew enough about human anatomy to pull out arrows, pieces of glass, cursed daggers and bullets from a battered body and patch it up enough to get it running through the night if nothing else. Painkillers were scarce, but as long as Dante had a piece of wood to grit his teeth into, he'd manage somehow. He always did, like some goddamn New York cockroach.
As Dante arrived at the mortuary, he was greeted by a yellow post-it note that read: «Out of town for a few days. First aid kit at your place.» Spitting curses and half a mouthful of blood, Dante limped his battered body out of the mortuary and all the way over to his place. He'd get the doc for this one, if he didn't bleed to death first.
Burning pain reeked from his wounds as Dante undressed in his office. His coat was filled with holes and the front was covered in blood. «Fucking hell, I just had this washed.» He grunted. Sitting on top of his desk, Dante's hands were already trembling as he reached for a bottle of whiskey.
Dante wasn't much of a drinker, in fact he stayed clear of anything with a too high alcohol percentage. He, like most people, had a nasty habit of loosing it whenever he got too much booze in his system. For most people this isn't all that much of a problem. Granted it could cost you your family, marriage or whatever, but...
Those problems grows pale when compared to Dante's way of «loosing it». He'd turn into a berserk devil looking for a good time, which usually involved a hell of a lot of killing. If it was living, he'd kill it. Sinner or saint, in that state Dante didn't give a flying fuck about anything.
The whiskey bottle was there so that he could clean his wounds. Personally Dante preferred sake for this kind of thing, but he was in no condition to go shopping, so he'd snatched an unopened bottle from a sleeping vagabond he'd run into on the way home.
Opening the bottle by smashing off the bottleneck at the edge of his desk, Dante splashed some of it into an empty bowl before pouring the rest over his chest and arms. «AAARGH! Shit-goddamn that hurts!» He'd always been reluctant to show weakness in front of others, but once alone Dante would be more than happy to express his pain on a verbal level.
Dropping the bottle to the floor, Dante pushed open the first aid kit that Dr Wong had so kindly left at his place. Picking up what looked like a forceps, he looked at it carefully before taking a few deep breaths. «I'm not very good at this, but here goes nothin'» He mumbled to himself and got down to business.
9 painfully removed bullets later, Dante's mind was clouded with pain, his body soaked in sweat and blood, not to mention that he was dreadfully thirsty. «Was it as good for you as it was for me?» He asked the forceps with a chuckle. Lying flat on his back on the floor, Dante heaved in some deep breaths before mounting the courage to finish what he'd begun.
Nine more scars to add to his collection. Dante's body was scarred more times than he'd bothered to count. Bite marks, claw scratches, knives, daggers, swords, guns, fire burns and even a few that he didn't even remember getting all made a rather colorful contribution to his body.
Filling in the gaps in his body with bandages, Dante was as in good shape as he could manage on his own. Should there be anything else, Dr Wong would have to look at it when she came back, if she came back. Dante wouldn't be all too surprised if she'd decided to split for good.
Now all that Dante wanted was to sleep off the pain and wait for the dawn to bring another day. Hopefully it would be better than this one, hopefully. Dante knew all to well that he was hoping for a miracle, but then again who wasn't?