The Summoner
A cloaked figure walked down the the stairs to the subway station, the hood kept the head sheltered from prying eyes and the featureless golden and reflective mask covered up what the hood could not. The clattering of subway trains rolling over their tracks echoed down the the tunnel, though none took notice for the subway station was deserted. Swiftly the hooded figure moved to the tracks and jumped down. On quick feet it moved deeper into the tunnel until it was swallowed up by the surrounding darkness.
Strange markings that looked like they were carved into the wall with some primitive tool began to give off a golden glow as the cloaked figure approached them. Running a glove covered hand over the runes gently as if assuring them that it came with peace, a rough cut out section of the wall sunk in and slided aside. Hearing a train approaching fast, the cloaked figure slipped inside with grace a moment before the train thundered past.
Inside the wall was utter and complete darkness, so with a slow hand gesture the cloaked figure lit several dozen candles that were scattered about. The insuring light revealed that the room was huge, large enough to house a full cathedral and then some. Markings of ancient evil awoke from their slumber and greeted the hooded figure with a orange glowing aura that reeked of a cruel doom. This time for sure, now it would work for sure. Success was an option, failure was not.
The hooded figure got into potion and squatted down, clapping its hands twice in front of its mask before it began a cryptic chant in a twisted tongue not known to man. All of the runes, the very hall itself responded to the chant, humming at the rhythm of the chant, rising as it rose, crawling when it crawled. At the climax the figure cut its left palm and held the wound up to the ceiling, only to clench it and throw drops of blood around it. Then... silence.
As the runes themselves cooled down, their task for now were done, it was the very rock floor that began spewing out steam and melt into a thick pulp. A low rumble followed and although the golden mask kept the face underneath perfectly hidden, one could tell that a smirk of satisfaction lurked behind its shiny surface. The ever sweet taste of success dripped down and soaked the hall as giant legs of partially melted and solid rock kicked out from the pulpy and melted rock floor.
A hideous beast from ages long past and best forgotten pulled itself up from its prison, an eternal abyss of fire, rock and a hatred worthy only the finest of the Underworld's servants. «AAAAAAHH! The fresh air of the mortal realm! How I've missed its smell.» The beast cried out in a cruel voice never meant for mortal men to hear. Once it had pulled itself free it took a brief moment to look around with its eight eyes. It was then it noticed the hooded figure that had freed it from its prison. «I suppose thanks are in order for freeing me from those damn chains forged by the Traitor, so I'll not crush you like the pathetic mortal that you are.» It snorted at the hooded figure, whom show no signs of fear or awe at the massive creature in front of it.
The beast was large enough to battle on a bus in matters of sheer size, and it had a hideous body that reminded much of a giant spider. Its body consisted mostly of solid rock, but it appeared that its inner organs, assuming it has such a thing, was made of molten rock. «As refreshing as the air of the mortal realm might be, it misses a crucial ingredient; the sweet stench of human blood.» The beast commented more to itself than to the hooded figure. Without a word or the slightest effort, the hooded figure made another gesture and one of the rock walls broke away, making a clear doorway to what looked like a complex maze of tunnels. «Don't you dare think that you can use me to fill your own needs. Think that thought just once, and I'll make you regret it for the rest of your life, both seconds of it.» The spider beast snorted before it stomped off into the maze.
On another end of town and on a completely different level, Dante had his fair share of troubles with a group of spirits gone bad on the top of a office complex. They looked and moved a lot like the scissor spirits he'd fought off just a couple of days ago, except that these evil spirits have scythes instead of scissors. Like the Sin Scissors, whom Dante had named the previous spirits, they are dependent on their masks. They cannot exist without them and that appears to be the only good thing about them. The large spinning scythe attack is an expression of the Sin's hatred and anger, or so Dante figured since they used it only when he managed to really tick them off.
He had been after these things for a good 2 hours straight, chasing them all the way to the top and along the way he'd learned that he had to be quick on his feet to evade the returning scythe of the boomerang scythe attacks. On the last floor, just underneath the roof they had begun to use some sort of umbrella-like shape that appeared to be a nucleus that gathers evil spirits and converts them into its own energy. When this occurred, they became even more fierce.
This whole thing started when Dante got a panicked phone call earlier. Some guy (whom Dante later found dead) screamed out that something in the office stabbed their prey with their scythes and immobilize them to steal their souls. Not long after that, the line went dead. Who the caller was or how he got Dante's number is anyones guess, but since Dante managed to catch the shriek of the spirits before the line went dead, he figured it wasn't some prank call. A quick call to trace the last call and thus get the address was easy, from there it was a made bike ride over to the place, break of some demonic demon door seal on the 17th floor and it was showtime.
As with the Sin Scissors, if Dante succeed in deflecting the scythes, he was be able to create an opening for attack. Dante had given Trish's words some thought, of how to better use his natural talent as a fighter, but so far it had remained at just that, a thought. For now, he had a little more pressing issue at hand; he'd just run out of shotgun shells. Several scythes came flying towards Dante and as he jump and twisted around in mid air to dodge two of them, one was shot off course with a few well placed bullets from Ivory, a forth was brushed aside along the edge of his sword, but the fifth cut straight through Dante's left calf.
Landing with a loud thud and sliding across the concrete roof floor, tearing up his leather coat and skin as if it was paper, Dante lost grip on Ivory and it to skid out of his reach. Turning around on his back, Dante groaned in pain as the scythe in his calf dug around in his wound at every movement he made. The killing hurt in his shoulder from the landing didn't really make things any easier. Looking up, Dante noticed that the remaining spirits started circling around him. «Prepping for the finishing move are we?» Dante panted before breaking into delightful laughter.
With a short and brutal yank, Dante pulled out the scythe in his calf and almost at the same instant, he unleashed the darker half of himself. With scythe in hand, Dante rose to the skies and after some strong slashes and cuts, the Sin Scythe's were disposed of. Landing gently to make sure he didn't push his injured leg any more than needed, Dante's lower lip trembled with thrills from the previous kills as he fought to calm down his own adrenaline rush. «Control, you must learn control.» A women commented from behind.
Dante wasn't much surprised when he turned around to face Trish. Heaven knows how she did it, but that woman knew when and where to find Dante, like some goddamn bloodhound from somewhere most unpleasant. «You say that, but you never say how.» Dante grumbled, his voice lower and distorted due to his demonic form. «Flow with the heat of battle in harmony.» Trish replied, walking up to Dante. «That doesn't make much sense, and I'm NOT in the mood for your riddles. So either you give it to me straight or you shut the hell up.» Dante said loud and clear, pointing a clawed finger at her nose.
With that off his chest, Dante limped over to where Ivory was laying. «If you insist, son of Sparda.» Trish sighed and caught up with him. From behind she planted her right hand over his ear and uttered some quick phrase in a language Dante didn't understand. It felt as if a small electrical charge just stung inside his ear and Dante nudged his head away from Trish's hand in reflex. «Goddammit! I told you I'm...» Dante broke himself off. He felt a little different, as if a curtain had been lifted from his eyes or to be more precise; his mind.
«The hell did you do to me?!» Dante's initial reaction surprised even Trish. Her eyes and face widened with shock as Dante's right hand locked itself firmly around her throat. It was there only for a fraction of a second before Dante withdrew. Looking down on the floor, lost in deep thought Dante looked very troubled. He refused to look Trish in the face for the remaining of the day. He just quietly picked up his gun, faded gently into his more human self and left without a word.
Back at the office, Ada was over at Dante's request to tend to his injured leg and shoulder. «Any ideas of what we should tell the officials regarding the 4 dead people in that office building?» Ada asked while finishing bandaging Dante's leg which was resting on his desk. Dante remained silent, holding on to a big red jewel in a silver frame of some sort, stroking his thumb over it ever so gently. «Hello? Earth to Dante?» Ada tried again, but all in vain. Sighing with disappointment, Ada turned her attention to Dante's shoulder. Carefully she began cleaning the wound, patting it with a ball of cotton dipped in a sterile cleansing liquid. She expected some sort of hissing and the usual complains from Dante, but it was as if his mind was either totally blank or miles away.
When Ada was about half done with the bandaging of the shoulder, Dante looked her straight in the eyes and asked bluntly: «You through?» Ada was taken aback by the question for some reason. For a moment Dante sounded like someone else. «A-a-almost, just a few more minutes.» She replied nervously. Dante just faintly nodded and dived down in whatever thoughts he had roaming in the halls and corridors of his mind. Some more minutes passed in silence before Ada was done with treating the wounded shoulder. «I'll leave some painkillers for you to help you when you want to sleep. As usual, take it easy the next week or so and try not to...» Ada's eyes locked into Dante's and they looked so... dead. «...walk...or...run too much on your foot, it will only slow down the healing and naturally... increase the discomfort.» She finished, turning her attention to packing down her improvised surgery kit.
Dante leaned down to his right, opened a drawer in his desk and fumbled around a little before he picked up a small piece of paper that looked like some sort of ticket and handed it over to Ada. «For your trouble.» He mumbled before leaning back in his chair. «Ticket for the up-coming Apocalyptica concert?» Ada looked at him surprised and puzzled. «Got it from Joey for some stupid reason. I don't feel like going, so...» Dante replied in a brooding tone. «Thank you.» Ada said sincerely before picking up her things and leaving.
Different, Dante felt different. It was clear and yet lost in a fuzzy blur at the same time, he couldn't for the life of him put his finger on what was different. It made him feel uneasy and troubled to say the least. As he ran the scene, events and words over and over again in his head, he came back to the same words at every turn: «Control, you must learn control.» There was no denying, it was a valid point.
Grabbing the little bottle of painkillers, Dante got off his chair to limb himself to bed, his leg and shoulder objecting to any movement. «Hear my silent prayer, heed my quiet call, when the dark and damned surround you.» It was a faint, gentle whisper. Dante paused and looked around, scanning the highs and lows of his office with his cold eyes, but saw nothing. Shrugging it off as a trick on his mind, he carried on with his limbing. «Step into my sigh, look inside the light, you will know that I have found you.» It returned, the faint and kind whisper.
Being more on edge than usual, Dante didn't feel comfortable with the idea of just dismissing this whispering in his ears, or head for that matter. Whispering in his head? Was it Trish's little trick that was finally showing its colors or was it something different? Harmless or hostile? Questions and no answers, like always. Turning back to his desk, Dante picked up his phone and dialed a number. «Donkey? Get your boys to keep their eyes open for that Kennedy cop and when they find him, get him over to my place. Don't make a fuzz about it though.» Dante instructed over the phone and hung up with a loud rattling with the phone before El Burro could cough up an objection or another form for reply.
A good hour later, when Dante was dozing off in his bed after taking some of the painkillers, he heard someone enter his office downstairs. By the sound of it, it was a couple of El Burro's boys that came to deliver Leon right on his doorstep. «Dante?» Leon called out when El Burro's boys left. «Yeah, get your ass up here Leon.» Dante shouted. Leon climbed the stairway up to the second floor and looked around before popping his head into Dante's bedroom. «Jesus what a mess...» He sighed at the look of Dante's bedroom. «Yeah, yeah, yeah... Listen I want you to dig up that Trish lady for me. I'd do it myself, but I'm in no condition to dance around town unless its an emergency.» Dante grumbled, feeling much like his bedroom looked like. «Heard from the doc that you got banged up a little.» Leon smirked, standing in the door frame. «Get out before I shove you out, through the keyhole.» Dante mumbled, tossing lazy around in his bed.
As Leon went off on his first errand for Dante, the painkillers kicked in for real and Dante soon dozed off to sleep. The whispering voice in his head grew clearer and as time passed it lost some of its gentle breeze like touch. How long Dante laid like this, he had no idea since one hour seemed to slide seamlessly into the next, though eventually hunger and thirst pulled Dante out of his sleep. Limbing downstairs again, Dante order some Chinese take-away before dragging his tired frame to the back where the bathroom was to get some water. While having the water running to get it nice and cold, Dante looked at his reflection in the mirror. Yup, there was no mistaking it; he looked like a train-wreck.
Bending down to drink from the sink, Dante began feeling a tingling sensation all over his skin, it was as if he had a million ants or insects crawling all over his skin. Turning the water off, Dante leaned on the sink and lowered his head, trying to get a grip on himself. Was it the painkillers? If so that would be odd, because he hadn't felt like this before and he'd taken PLENTY of painkillers in the past. Perhaps it was a late effect from those scythe spirits he fought earlier? Didn't make much sense, since they didn't looked like they were packing something serious (not by Dante's standards anyway). If his head didn't felt like it was on fire, Dante might actually sit down and look it up in one of Trish's books, but right now reading was the last thing he wanted to do.
Taking a seat behind his desk and resting his injured leg on the desk, Dante felt feverish, dizzy and the tingling sensation on his skin increased over time. Now it wasn't as if he had bugs on his skin, it felt more like they were under his skin and it made him restless. Rubbing his arms and scratching his chest didn't help much. Just what in the blazes was going on? The doors opened and a small Chinese kid came in with a box filled with Dante's take-away order. He was in no mood to argue, so he just stuffed some money to the kid, told him to keep the change and get out. Considering that there was probably $250 in change, the kid was eager to get out before Dante had a change of heart.
Eating slowly, as despite his hunger the apatite wasn't there, the food just felt like a tasteless mass in his mouth, Dante had a hard time staying focused on what he was doing. «Dante?» He looked up as he heard someone call his name. His vision began to blur and it was as if he was looking without seeing. Absentmindedly Dante opened the top drawer in his desk and fumbled inside for some sort of weapon. «Hush, hush Dante. It's okay.» It was a gentle and soothing voice that Dante's tired mind wished welcome. «Is he okay?» Another voice asked from the back. The two voices chatted calmly amongst each other, the words hurled through Dante's mind, nothing sticking to it, they were just sounds.
Some time later, Dante found himself laying in his bed, carefully wrapped under the sheets and a puffed up pillow under his head. Next to his bed sat Trish, her head nodding sleepishly. «Hear my silent prayer, heed my quiet call, when the dark and damned surround you.» That damn thing never knows when to call it the day, does it, Dante asked himself mentally as he ruffled through his hair with both hands in an effort to chase the whispering away. «Hey there, you're finally awake?» Trish asked, yawning. «More or less.» Dante said in a hoarse voice. «I'll admit that your condition isn't over the top, but I'm no doctor so why would you send Leon, of all people, to look for me?» Trish asked him.
Dante turned his head away from Trish. How to put it? I trust you and Leon? I can't show weakness to the gangsters in Raccoon City? I used Leon as a cover, betting on that Donkey would dismiss it as some «business talk» between him and Leon, business Donkey does not want to get into? I think I've caught some sort of demonic flu? Dante discarded the last one the second it came to mind. «I... hear a voice, a whisper... calling to me, in my head.» He began, feeling silly already. «Hallucinations from the painkillers perhaps? You took enough to knock out a grown mountain gorilla.» Trish suggested. «No, no... this is... a different bag.» He disagreed with her. «Well what is it saying then, this voice of yours?» Trish asked.
He repeated the two phrases word for word to Trish, whom then gave it some thought. «You're being summoned, or more specifically your demon half is being summoned.» She concluded. «Ha?» Dante looked at her, his face being one big question mark. «Oh come one Dante.» Trish objected, rising from her chair as she did. «You of all people should be familiar with it, hell even teenagers these days do things like this; scribble something down on a floor or wall, light some candles, chant a little and hopefully something will show up.» Trish explained.
Dante gave her words some thought. Yeah, he'd been into a few cases like that. Goth kids that think they can pull off some sort of stunt, grab a book, learn Latin and off they go. Of course reality is a different ball game than TV or movies, so when the shit hits the fan, they scramble around like scared little kittens, leaving Dante as the cleanup crew. Usually they don't know their Latin good enough or they translated it wrong or they forgot an ingredient or a symbol in their drawings. These cases were simple, since Dante could easily dismiss them to the public as crazy kids whom had lost their foothold on reality. The worst beast of all is Man himself. The newspapers ate it up like sugar.
One questioned remained though, what to do about it? Fine he was getting a summoning of some sort, cool, he was popular. He'd be signing autographs full time by the end of the week, awesome. Dante didn't have any plans on becoming anyone's little pet devil, but ignoring the summoning was hard. It was ten times worse than having the phone ringing on for a full day, since his own body was the damn phone ringing, with fever and bugs in under his skin. «What do I do?» He asked Trish seriously. «By the look in your eyes, I can guess that you want it to stop and you're not going to bow down or kneel to anyone or anything; dead, undead or alive.» Trish noted with a smile. «You're right on the dollar, as usual.» Dante smirked back.
Trish explained that by the looks of it, it wasn't a strong summoning, plus Dante's half blood and unique bloodline gave him a natural resistance towards summons. So in a nutshell the easiest way to solve the problem would be to answer the call, tell whomever or whatever that was at the other end to leave him the hell alone or Armageddon would be arriving earlier than expected and leave it at that. Since the summon didn't have the power to pull Dante to the summoner(s), it was very likely that they weren't in a position to contain him once he arrived, so he could say and do whatever the hell he wanted once he got there.
The two went downstairs, where Trish gave Dante a crash course in how to deal with summons. «First off you must tap into your demon, once the demon is on the surface you should be able to visualize a portal of some sort that will take you to where the summoner is.» Dante flashed into his demonic self so fast it made a breeze in his office. Looking around, Dante saw it clear as day; a glowing circular pattern of some sort, with symbols and writings on it right in the middle of the office. From it, a bright beam of purple and blue light shot up and through the roof. «So I just... step into the portal?» He asked Trish. «Yes, though one last word of advice; be careful: some summoners use low power summons to irritate a demon into rushing in with their guard lowered. The moment they come through, the summoner hits them hard with spells that will bind and tie the demon to their will and command.» Trish cautioned.
It was a calculated risk, but although he felt like a pile of trash, Dante figured he'd come out on top of this one too. Hell, he always did. With his left hand on the gun in his belt and his right hand over his shoulder, holding around his swords hilt, Dante stepped forward and into the light.
For Dante the trip was fast, smooth and aside from a big bright and utterly blending light, without form or content. When he came to he found himself in a basement of some sort. All the clichés where here; the tall and golden gothic looking candle stakes complete with white burning candles, scribblings on the walls and floor, some animals that had been gutted and their blood spilled around and last but not least; a hooded figure sitting with its legs crossed and a book resting in its lap, chanting. «Oy, you there.» Dante called out to the figure. The figure stopped chanting and looked up in awe and wonder at Dante's tall, dark and evil silhouette. «It worked!» The figure exclaimed, shooting up like a rocket. «Easy there tiger.» Dante said with a ice cold voice, drawing his sword and putting it right on the hooded figure's left shoulder. «That's far enough. Now is there any reason why I shouldn't beat you to pulp, giving you at least 6 dozen brand new definitions of the words pain and agony?» He asked, sliding the sword closer to the figure's neck.
Slowly and gently the figure removed its hood and revealed the face of a girl. «I say goddamn you're a ugly bitch!» Dante spilled out while making a face of disgust. The short girl had her dark red hair in two plaits that just touched her shoulders, her face bombarded with freckles, both her upper and lower teeth had braces on them and her eyes were mismatching colors; one blue and one green. «I... I command Thee, dark blood servant of the Underworld, in the name of Hades...» The girl began, much to Dante's surprise. «Awh shaddup already!» Dante barked and grabbed the collar on her hooded cape, yanked her face close to his and gave her a good head butt which resulted in a nosebleed on her end.
Dropping her to the floor like a broken doll, Dante looked around for an exit, since the portal apparently only worked one way. Then she began to cry or wailing would be a better word for it. It didn't take long before her wailing really got on Dante's nerves. Shoving Ivory into her mouth, Dante glared at her with rage as he spat out: «Will you shut the hell up?!» Eyes wide with fear, the girl shrunk back to a faint whimpering with the occasional sob to catch her breath. Shit, now I got drool all over my gun, Dante groaned mentally as he looked closer at Ivory. «I think you just broke my nose and three of my teeth...» The girl sobbed, picking out pieces of teeth from her mouth and collecting them in the palm of her hand. «You got something to say?!» Dante barked at her, causing her to shrink even further down and away.
The girl was probably too hysterical to redo the spell and send Dante back home, or so he figured. Normally it wouldn't pose much trouble, just climb the stairs, get outside and fly home. However, Dante had no clue of where «here» was. It could be anywhere; another town, another state, another country... hell, with Dante's usual luck he'd be caught in some twisted and most surreal alternative and/or parallel reality. «Alright girl, just who are you?» Dante asked, calming down a bit. «Huh? I'm...ah... I'm Jessica.» She said, sniffing as she spoke. «Where is this place?» Dante then asked. «Uhm... Raccoon City, Portland...» Jessica replied, her voice trembling. «At least it's not Silent Hill. Guess somebody somewhere still cares about me.» Dante mumbled to himself.
Ignoring the girl, Dante walked across the room where he found a heavy steel door. As he opened it, the steel groaned in a high pitch. «I...» Jessica began calling after Dante, which really ticked him off. In a flash he spun around, took aim and shot two quick shots, just gazing her right ear. «SHIT! Shit, shit, shit, shit! The painkillers have screwed up my aim! Goddammit all to hell and back.» Dante cursed, holstering his gun and sheeting his sword before he left the basement.
Well back at the office, Dante gave Trish a report on what was on «the other side». When he was done, Trish folded her arms over her chest and chuckled lightly. «A common mistake for beginners. Summons are all about energy, the spells themselves are useless if you don't have the energy to back them up. It's like putting a 9V battery in a car, it won't move an inch.» Dante wasn't much amused. He just stripped down from his sword and guns, dumping it all on the floor around his feet. «The animals she'd cut wasn't enough to tie you down, or their life essence to be precise. Plus I bet that she didn't cut them with clean feelings, she felt sorry for them and remorse after it was done, which of course would cripple the sacrifice even more.» Trish was happily talking, while Dante on the other hand was limping back to bed.