Archive of Our Own ^beta

So... I'm not dead. My apologies for not making that clear. I know I'm a bad writer.

Renegade

You come to find in life that regret never really goes away.

It sits there like a pit in your stomach, a silent weight on your whole being that just wants to drag you down. Makes you want to lash out or just curl into a ball and weep the world away, powerless to change anything. Powerless to move, powerless to act, powerless to even think as the weight of your decisions come crashing down on you. And right now?

Dante was getting really damn tired of it.

He regretted failing his mother by not keeping the amulet safe. He regretted being sucked into Arkham's conspiracy and getting outplayed time and time again by everyone around him. Regret in failing to save Enzo when the slime ball really needed it. Even more so, he regretted not looking for his brother, which was apparently somewhere in Hell…

He regretted not taking things more seriously.

And now, restrained in the back of another damned truck after Lady got the drop on him AGAIN, all he could do was reminisce on how absolute fucked things have been since meeting her.

Dante really did have horrible luck with women.

His eyes scanned the empty compartment. He couldn't see the drivers and Darkcom's signature cold white aesthetic was the only thing keeping him company. The truck slowed down to a stop maybe an hour later, it was hard to tell. Dante spiritlessly struggled against the cuffs behind him, but they wouldn't budge. Not like there was a point anyway.

Dull light entered as the doors open, making Dante flinch. "Good morning, Dante." Baines said, climbing into the compartment. He was flanked by guards, leveling their rifles at Dante. Baines adjusted his tie and observed him through his shades. "How are feeling? Did you enjoy the ride?"

"Your suspension sucks and whoever's behind the wheel can't drive." Dante rolled his eyes in irritation. "One star."

"Shame." Baines said, fishing out a remote from his suit pocket. "Our employees are some of the best trained in the world. I was hoping for a better review." He pressed a button, the wire attached to his cuffs released and retracted back into the truck. Dante looked back then towards Baines, slowly standing up to stretch his legs. "Hopefully this helps."

"Would be better if I lost the shackles." The demon hunter eyed the guards and Baines, weighing his options. "You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"I would actually." Baines said, pocketing the device. "Demon blood still courses through your veins, even though it's Sparda's."

"Oh, bullshit!" Dante stepped forward and heard the safeties click off. "I saved your asses at least twice now!"

"And for that I'm grateful." The Vice President had the balls to walk up to Dante and pat him on the shoulder. "Grateful enough to not put another bomb in your head." The shades focused on the side of his face that was destroyed roughly a day earlier. "Truly remarkable." He muttered. Dante shrugged the hand off and glared at him.

"Let. Me. Go." Dante warned through clenched teeth. Baines only smiled at him.

"You're too valuable son. God made su-" Dante's forehead cracked against Baines' nose, spurting blood and breaking it. Dante tried being gentle, honest. He ducked low as the guards hesitantly opened fire on him. The shots went wide, careful not to hit the VP cradling his nose. The space was cramped, only one way out, armed guards at the entrance, and both hands were tied behind his back.

There was a joke in there somewhere.

Dante dashed forward, dropkicking the nearest soldier out the entrance. His feet hit the guard's chest as they sailed out of the truck. Both of them hit the ground hard. Dante rolled, gunfire striking the ground where he was while the other guy was gasping for air. He managed to get to his knees when a bullet clipped his side, the reaction splattering blood on the concrete. A grunt of pain escaped him as he pushed himself to run.

Before him was an office building that seem to be cut inside of a hill. The whole thing looked like something out of an HR Propaganda poster, except the chain-link fence, guard towers, and chain link fence all pointing inward, or towards him at the moment. Not to mention the gate three hundred meters away from him, slowly closing.

God, this was going to suck.

Dante pushed himself into a dead sprint. The first few volleys kicked up the ground behind him as he ran, fragmenting rubble everywhere. Either by luck or volume another round caught his leg causing him to stumble. He used the momentum to roll forward to keep going. His wounds had trouble healing. Then another pierced his thigh. Then his lungs. Then his shoulder. The bullets just kept coming, and he kept slowing down.

He even got shot in the ass, those bastards.

Dante inched his way on the gravel. Blood pooling out of his body. The gate was closed, but he could climb it. He just had to get there.

It was hard to breath, the only thing he could hear was his heartbeat and gasps. His 'Devil Trigger' or whatever the fuck it was supposed to be was fluctuating but weak, barely keeping him alive. The gravel cut his face as he dragged himself closer.

He was so tired.

Dante heard footsteps behind him, getting closer with each second. Frustration burned in him as his body refused to cooperate. Darkcom boots now stood in front of him, blocking his way. He glared at them, willing them to move.

"Dante…" The voice was soft. He angled his face up to see familiar mismatched eyes looking down on him. They held pity, something he thought he'd long grown out of seeing. He tried to speak, but a blood-filled gurgle came out instead. That put a damper on trying to talk to Lady, thankfully Dante was nothing if not creative.

He settled for spitting blood on her boot. That should get the message across.

The bitch had the audacity to look hurt.

"Why must you make this difficult?" Baines' voice cut in like a jagged knife, muffled and angry. "I was hoping we could discuss your future like civilized adults. Worry not though." Something sharp pierced into Dante's neck and burned. "As said in our Lord's work: 'He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him disciplines him diligently." Exhaustion ran rampant through his body, consuming him and tunneling his vision.

He regretted ever seeing those eyes.

No one really tells you how to deal with guilt.

The feeling claws at you, weighs on you like chains to drag you down. Guilt wraps around you, digging into your skin and trying to grab your soul. It's already there, weighing on it, just wait for you to break underneath the burden of your own actions. Some guilt is easier to ignore or maybe even to forget if you're lucky. Naturally though, it stays with you.

Mary internally wrestled with hers, watching as guards dragged Dante away. They weren't gentle about it either, roughly throwing him on a gurney and strapping him down. "Be careful!" she ordered, her body moving before she could stop it. Her hands fiddled with the last of the straps to make sure he was secure. They started rolling him away then, she couldn't help but follow.

She felt responsible for everything that's happened to him. It didn't feel right to leave.

"So much potential for such a young man." VP Baines walked behind them, holding a bloody handkerchief to his nose. It was almost comically insignificant to the amount Dante bled all over the ground. "It's truly a wonder why we didn't locate him sooner." A wet crack followed with a grunt escaped Baines while he reset his nose. "Perhaps it wasn't time for our paths to cross until now."

Mary stayed silent. Doors opened to the facility where the guards navigated the halls. Scientists and badged personnel bustled around them, each carrying out their duties. This place was one of Darkcom's first research facilities, hidden in rural New York under the guise of a private prison. It was called Eden's Crypt or some other biblical name that was equally as tacky. It didn't really matter to her.

Dante's gasps started to fade, replaced by heavy breathing. His wounds slowly healing, pushing out the bullets and debris onto the gurney. Dark circles were beginning to show underneath his eyes, making Mary realize this is the first time she's ever seen him exhausted. Even after being ambushed, face blown off, or falling from an airplane, he didn't seem bothered by any of it. Not even when he shielded her with his body as they fell from Rabbit's compound.

And this is what she does in return? Bound, drugged, and dragged back here for experiments?

Guilt strangled her soul.

"Right this way." One of the scientists led them through double doors into an operating room. Medical equipment, monitors, tubes, supplies, and a viewing window to see what was going on. Mary's first thought was that they were giving him first aid with the way they hurriedly started hooking him up to the equipment. There was only one problem that she noticed though.

All of the IV bags were empty.

"What are they doing?" She asked. Needles pierced his skin, hands stripped him of his clothing, and people crowded him like a zoo animal. A foreign protective urge wanted her to stop it all.

"We have been blessed with something truly wonderful, Mary." Baines said, leaning against the window. "What we have is a rare opportunity to truly level the playing field between man and demon. Dante is, as you know, half demon with a blood tie to Sparda no less! Powerful and righteous among his own kind. A living weapon blessed by God unto humanity." A zealous tone tinted his voice. "And we finally have him within our grasp."

"He's an ally, Commander." Mary felt like that pointed need to be emphasized. All of this felt wrong, and the palms of her hands itched for her handguns.

"Oh, he is. Even as troublesome as Dante may be." His gazed followed her movements, eyes hiding behind those shades. "You're dismissed, Arkham. Thank you for your work in capturing him." The soldier in her wanted to follow orders and leave, get some rest and forget this week even happened. Mary, however, hesitated.

"You didn't tell me what they're doing."

"Securing the future of humanity, Arkham." Baines' attention was only on Dante, almost forgetting about her. "A future that will shake the heavens."

The door closed behind her, leaving Mary in darkness. It was comforting, she didn't want the lights on right now. She dropped her gear on the floor, not bothering to unpack. This was just another empty dorm in another one of Darkcom's many sites across the United States. Mary should know, she's spent most of her life in them, her assignments taking across the states and even across other countries.

She took off her armor first, setting it next to the bed. Her belt came off next, throwing it aside. A sore spot around her lower back flared up, making her wince. Mary pushed her thumbs in it to try and work it out. "Fuck…" Sitting down on the bed, she disengaged her boots and took them off. The thrusters in the heels could be finicky at times. She remembered when one went off during the night and spooked King and Ninja during one their romps. Sentry gave them shit about it for the next week…

Fuck, she missed them.

There wasn't any bitching from King anymore, no quiet judgement from Sentry, Mutterings from Patriot or even Ninja's odd observations. Just deafening fucking silence. "God Damnit." Mary didn't know why her vision started to blur or why she was trying to choke the boot in her hands. It wouldn't budge, it just refused to fucking break.

"Fuck!" She threw it across the room, the boot crashing against a locker and denting it. They should be there! Her team should be there, not her and her stupid fucking decisions. Mary ripped off her gloves and threw them on the ground, trying desperately to breathe. Her throat felt stuck, she couldn't swallow, her face was wet. All she heard were sobs echoing around her.

"Fuck." She shouldn't be here. A part of her new she should've died with her team. The only reason she was alive was because they paid for her mistakes. Leave it to fucking Mary Ann to get in over her head and have someone else foot the bill. And now Dante was paying for her actions, being subjected to God knows what.

It took all of Mary's will just to hold herself together.

A dry throat was the first thing he was aware of. Dante tried to move and was met with a new feeling.

Nauseating Fatigue.

For the first time in his life, he felt sick. Not just that, but frail. It took all of his energy just to open his eyes and turn his head. He was met with a concrete wall with a sink and toilet for decoration. Looks like he finally landed himself in jail. Dante always wondered how it would happen. Being roofied by the government and dragged to the middle of nowhere wasn't on that list.

Groaning he tried to sit up, but only managed roll and fall out of bed. Dante tried to catch himself, failing and landing face first on the tile floor. "Ugh." He pushed himself up off the floor, stumbling from the effort. He used the bed frame as support to stand. His body never felt this heavy before. Dante looked down at his clothes, finding them replaced by a dull orange scrubs. No style, whatsoever.

Movement caught his eye, forcing him to look up. Instead of iron bars, there was a giant glass window with a metal door on the side. Behind it were a few scientists taking notes in a vast empty room. Some glanced up at him and others ignored his existence. "Hey!" His voice cracked, but he didn't care. They ignored him. "Poindexter's, I'm talking to you!" Still no answer.

Gritting his teeth, Dante was able to move forward without stumbling. His fist banged on the glass. Some glanced at him then, a semblance of acknowledgement. "Where the hell am I!?" He tried to yell but is sounded pathetic in his ears. Instead of answering him, they merely left. "Hey! What a minute, hey!"

He heard a crackle from a hidden speaker. "Hello? Hello?" The voice said. "Is this thing on?"

"What the hell do you think!?" Dante yelled back.

"Ah, very good. Ahem. Good morning, Dante, my name is Nigel Planter from R . My credentials are a PHD in Quantum Physics from MIT, a Doctorate in Biomedical Science from Harvard, a PHD in Religious Studies fro-" The voice droned on, spouting random titles that Dante didn't care about.

"We get it, you like books." Dante remarked. "Now if you could be a pal and let me out of here and point me to the nearest pizza joint, that would be great."

"My apologies Dante, but I don't have the authority to do that. What I do have, however, is the authority to test the limits of your abilities."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dante felt like shit already, not to mention his common sense was tingling. Situations like these usual involve some sort of torture that he was not into.

"Mostly physical and mental tests, documenting the effects of mixed heritage between demon and human. IQ, Strength, Reflexes, Endurance, Agility, and things labeled as 'Sixth Sense'." The man sounded exasperated by the explanation. "Nothing outside of practical use, as you may imagine."

"What, you want me to run a pacer test? Eye exam? Turn my head and cough?" Dante kicked the window again for good measure. "Sorry dude, I ain't buying it."

"Your willingness isn't really a factor in these tests, but that's been accounted for." A few clicks echoed through the cell followed by a whirr. The glass lowered into the floor, allowing him to step out into huge room. The area was essentially a hollowed out concrete dome with a skylight at the top. Small holes dotted near the height while the ground floor had huge metal garage doors along the walls. "And since you sound so spirited, let's conduct the first test."

One of the garage doors started opening, the metal groans and creaks echoing through the huge room. Not only that, but he could here something shuffling about behind the doors. An oversized disfigured puppet emerged, walking with a limp. Its arm was just a huge blade from the elbow down while the other arm looked like a shriveled husk. Dante instinctively reached for rebellion on his back, only for his hand to grasp nothing.

Ah, shit.

"Ah, hey Gardener-" The patchwork demon began hobbling towards him.

"My name is Planter." The voice corrected.

"Yeah, same difference. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have much equipment on me, not that it's usually an issue." The puppet dashed out and flipped swinging the blade down at him. He sidestepped and threw a fist into it's face. Instead of knocking it clean off, the demon fell back in a daze. Dante shook the pain out of his hand. "Not to mention I'm having performance problems. Whatever date rape drug you guys used really did a number on me."

"Not to worry, your hypovolemia has been accounted for in the assessment."

"Hypno what now?" Dante had no idea what the guy was talking about. Thoughts for later though, the puppet swung at him again and Dante nearly tripped over his own feet getting out of the way. His body was too heavy and sluggish to fight with his usual flair and he hated it. The demon lunged at him with the blade; Dante ducked and stepped in, grabbing ahold of its arm. "Mind if I borrow this?" It cocked it head to the side as if asking a question.

Dante jammed his foot in the demon's stomach and pulled.

A disembodied scream came out before a wet snap, ripping the puppet's bladed arm off. Dante kicked it away and tested his new sword with a few swings. Awkward, a bit top heavy, and a bit shorter than he was used to. It was no Rebellion, but it would do for now. The demon screamed at the loss of its limb and charged Dante. The blade came down and bisected the puppet, sending its corpse sailing past.

Dante put the blade on his shoulder judged his handiwork. It wasn't even worth the mention.

"Alright, Doc. I passed your test. You mind giving me some grub instead of a gold star? I'm starving." His stomach felt like and endless pit right now. God, what he would give for some pizza.

"Sustenance will be administered after the assessment, Dante, and you don't get to decide if you've pass or not." Planter's tone sounded bitter. More garages started opening, revealing more patchwork puppets. Some had axes for legs, hammers for fists, and even a gun for a head. Where the fuck were they keeping these things? Frankenstein R' Us? "I do."

"I guess it's true about what they say." Dante readied himself and hoped his fake bravado would carry him through. "Good deeds never do go unpunished."

The new DMC series may have triggered something in my brain to start writing. I have a sneaking suspicious is the butchering of the Canon world and subsequent lackluster story. Now I have the burning urge to fix it or attempt. We'll see how it goes.

I'm updating this sooner than I thought. Enjoy.

Rat In A Cage

Dante gulped down air, trying to catch his breath. He sat upon a pile of mismatched corpses, limbs replaced with hammers, stakes, blades, guns, and axes. Black blood wept from the pile, staining his already dull clothes and the floor. These things were demonic, that was for sure, he just didn't know how Uncle Sam got their hands on them. It would've been a lot easier if he was in top shape and had his gear. Speaking of which, that's probably the first order of business once he managed to get a break.

"Did I pass?" He asked between breaths.

"Your performance is acceptable." Planter droned, the speakers adding static to his voice. "Please return to your cell and await the next assessment."

"And if I don't feel like it?" Dante asked. He was answered with a series of clicks and muzzles coming out of the holes high above. "That's a compelling argument." He muttered.

"I knew you'd see reason. Now back to your cage." Dante wanted to throttle the bastard already. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact he thought of him as nothing more than an animal. That still didn't change the fact he was trapped here. With a heavy sigh he got up and walked off the pile with his trophy on his shoulder. The arm blade did come in handy when killing the cursed things. "What are you doing?" Planter interrupted his thoughts.

"Being a good rat and going back to my cage or did you forget that?" Dante shot back.

"The limb you confiscated. Leave it."

"Oh." Dante held up the blade. "You mean this little thing? I don't know, you could say I've grown attached."

"It's not allowed."

"Tell you what, you give me back my familial sword and I drop this oversized knife here. Otherwise, no deal." There was silence for a moment, and Dante had just the slightest hope that he was getting somewhere.

"Subdue him." It was the only warning Dante got before the bullets started flying. With weapon in hand and unbound, things went a bit differently this time. He blocked the first burst and back peddled towards his cell, zig-zagging as fast as he could. Step left, dodge right, block bullets, miss one and get his kidney pierced. That one hurt more than usual.

He fell backwards into the cell where he was out of sight of more than half the guns in the dome. Moving quickly, he rolled underneath his bed and kicked it over for more shelter. The bed wasn't bulletproof by any means, but it at least served as cover. Shots ripped through the mattress' bedding, throwing up fabric and debris. Dante's back hit the wall in his cells and now he really did feel trapped.

The gunfire stopped and the glass wall came up, sealing him in. His grip tightened around the hilt of the sword and for once it felt like he won. "Ha!" Dante stood up, triumphant in keeping the sword. "Told ya I wasn't giving it up." Something clicked in the room and a hiss of white smoke began streaming from the walls. It smelled like cat piss and some other sweet chemicals. His vision started swimming. He tried to grab the bed frame but his strength was fading.

"Th- That's…" Darkness encroached him, his eyelids becoming impossibly heavy. "Cheating." Oblivion took him; Dante didn't even feel himself hit the floor.

Mary could hear the drills going on outside. Sergeants yelling at recruits and putting them through the paces. She knew it was all in effort for the soon to be deployment into the demon world. After grabbing the Rabbit's tech, it was only a matter of time before Darkcom was able to make a stable passage into Hell. The mission hadn't changed and there was still a Holy war to fight.

What made it worse was everyone else was doing something except for her. The only order she was given was to 'rest and recuperate'. No debrief, no new assignment, no interrogation or punishment, nothing. All she could do was stay and have her mind run in circles. That was probably why they scheduled a medical appointment for her as soon as she got back. That's the only reason she was in fatigues instead of street clothes right now.

"Ms. Arkham?" A bespectacled doctor announced poking his head through the door of the waiting room.

"Yeah?" Mary's head looked up from her medical questionnaire.

"Sorry for the wait, but I'm ready to see you now." He said. Mary grunted in response and followed him in. The placard on the side of the door frame had 'Nigel J. Planter, M.D.' on it. Weird name. The room inside was huge for a doctor's office. There were medical supplies, cabinets, and a bed on one side of the wall, like one would expect to see. Then the other half of the room had a decorated wood desk, couch, table, and samples lining the walls.

It was like a weird blend of old-fashioned office and a modern clinic.

"Please, take a seat." He motioned toward one of the plush sofas. Mary did as asked. "My name is Doctor Nigel Planter and I'll be conducting your physical. Do you have any questions before we begin?"

Why is this office so weird? "No."

"Very good then. So, Ms. Arkham, how are you feeling today?" Dr. Planter asked. She looked at his short gray hair, avoiding his eyes.

"Fine." Mary lied.

"I see." He wrote something down. "How have you been sleeping? I understand you were involved in the recent Rabbit incident."

"I sleep just fine." Mary hadn't slept at all. She kept seeing her teammates die whenever she closed her eyes.

"Alright." Another note jotted down. "How many meals a day have you been eating?"

"Three Square." The most she could stomach was a protein bar.

"Glad to hear it." His pen kept writing. "Any new pains or aches?"

"None." Her lower back and knees were sore, along with crushing weight in her stomach.

"That's good news. Front line troops tend to get seriously injured." More notes, more lies. "Anything else you'd like to bring to my attention while we're here?"

Could she get some meds to make the thoughts go away? "No, nothing else."

Planter hummed in acknowledgement, filling out his notes. "Excellent. If you're comfortable, please strip down to your undergarments for your physical. The nurse is running a bit behind, but she should be here in a few minutes if that's alright?"

"That's fine." Mary waved him off and started undoing her blouse. It wasn't the first time she'd done this, and she'd doubt it would be the last.

"Good. I'll give you a moment of privacy." Dr. Planter got up and exited the room, closing the door behind him. Well, that was considerate of him. As she undressed, her eyes began to wander the office. Books, plaques, odd specimens lining the shelves, then something caught her eye. On the desk, amidst all the papers and files, one stuck out to her. One that just had the word 'Dante' on it.

Mary looked back towards the door. No one was here yet and she should have clearance for whatever these files were. She did bring Dante in and was one of the only elite members left. Her fingers shifted through the papers, getting a better view at what was on them. All of it looked standard. Height, weight, medical results. No wonder she had to look up to him, he was 6'2 while she was stuck at 5'6. There were more notes too.

'Subject Dante presents abilities that go against the laws of physics. Extraction of blood yielded 30 liters before symptoms of hypovolemia began to show. A theory suggests demoni-' That couldn't be right. If they took that much blood from him, he would be dead 10 times over. And why would they need blood anyway? There is-

"I am SO sorry." A nurse crashed through the door, making Mary jump and turn, scattering the papers on the desk. "There was this old officer guy who kept trying to talk to me. He had a ring on too!" Mary stood ramrod straight, trying to keep her composure. "I swear the nerve of some men. Even my Ex tried hitting on my friends before I dumped his ass." She set a basket full of medical supplies on the examination bed.

"Is that so?" Mary hedged, attempting to reorder the papers behind her.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe the type of shit he'd pull." The nurse was busy getting everything ready and rambling about her Ex. Quietly, she shoved a few documents into her pile of clothes. After this exam she'd have to see Dante. She'd seen enough deranged experiments to know whatever was going on bordered on it. The whole thing reeked of her father's work.

It didn't take long for the exam to end. Some shots, a basic physical, mental torture from a nurse who didn't know how to shut up, and she was done. "Your results will be emailed to you in a week or two, do you have any questions?" The nurse asked. Mary didn't know her name, but a quick glance at her badge let her know her name was Kiera Mender.

"No questions." Mary finished buttoning up her blouse. "Is that everything?"

"Yup. Like I said, week or two to get the results and if you have any concerns, notify Dr. Planter. He's usually out of the office and in the lab most hours of the day, unless he's in the cafeteria, or the bathroom, or…" Mary didn't care to listen to the rest and simply walked out of the office. Someone had to know where Dante was being kept and if push came to shove, she could just use her rank to find out. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out one of the stolen papers.

'Project Nephilim' was in bold amongst the words, and she didn't like that at all.

This had to be a nightmare.

Being arrested? Believable. In Dante's eyes, it was only a matter of time before the long arm of the law tried to grab him. Being drugged? Less likely, but recent events have made it way more commonplace than it had any reason to be. All thanks to some mismatched bitch. Experimented on? That he could believe. His body was way too powerful than any human had any right to be, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that somebody would be after it.

Not that he blamed them. It's not arrogance when you know you were the best-looking guy in the room. But being forced to eat a healthy and balanced meal?

That was crossing a line.

Dante eyed the tray in his cell with distain. Broccoli, rice, turkey, oranges and milk, the type of shit you fed kids. Not even any sauce! It was so bland and safe he wanted to throw it against the wall. If it wasn't for his stomach grumbling in protest though, he would've done it. So, there he sat on the floor, glaring at the food. If there was a God, he hoped the bastard sent an angel soon to either set him free or just kill him and be done with the torture.

Not like his prayers have ever been answered before.

Footsteps reached his ears. Probably more scientists to gawk at him like a zoo animal. They take their notes, nod to each other, then leave. Maybe if he threw out some taunts, he could get some answers, that always worked. He leaned back and waited for whatever schmuck decided to visit him. His mood only soured when he saw who it was.

Lady was standing before him, protected by a thick pane of blast proof glass. She stared at Dante, bags under her mismatched eyes and expecting something from him. She had that soldier uniform most of the others had on and it looked downright uncanny. There was only judging silence between the two of them for what felt like minutes. Someone had to crack.

"What?" Dante asked. "Cat got your tongue? Here to look at your trophy?" He spread his arms wide. "Congratulations! You nabbed yourself a one of a kind, bona-fide, demonfied, demon hunter! Whatchya' gonna' do next? Dissect me? Interrogate me?" Dante leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows. "Probe me?"

"Demons like you need to be studied." Lady didn't rise to the bait. "If anything, I hope they put a muzzle on your fucking mouth."

"Oh, you're into the kinky stuff, aren't you?" Dante leaned back. "Should've known since you keep drugging me. Do you roofie every guy you meet or am I just special? You must be popular at bars."

"Fuck you." Lady's anger came out quick. "You'd do the same thing if you were human."

"I am human you dumb bitch!" He stood up and took off his scrub shirt. Dante would've been amused by the way her eyes widen in shock for a split second, but he was too angry for that. "Do you see any scales? Wings? Claws? A fucking tail!? Do I look like a demon to you? Hell, if anything, you G.I. idiots act like demons more than anyone else!"

"You can turn into a fucking devil at will and your pride nearly opened the gates of Hell!" Lady looked like she wanted to walk in there and throttle his neck. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? Let the one person who could end humanity waltz around without a fucking care in the world!?"

"Yes!" Dante through his hands up in exasperation. "It was working great before you came along and dragged me into this mess." He kicked the tray of food away and walked towards her. "Do you know how many people you assholes got killed because you played right into the Rabbit's hands?" He knew there was collateral, that psychotic bastard played for keeps and made sure everyone knew.

"You think I don't fucking know that? There was no way we could've known what he was planning." Hate dripped from her words. "That demon sympathizing bastard killed my team and more Darkcom agents than I can count. And all of those would've been for nothing if we just let you walk away."

"Right, so you had to drug me when my back was turned, didn't you?" Dante leaned against the glass to look her in the eyes. "After I save your ass and help clean up the mess you made, big daddy Baines put a gun to your head and told you take me in?" Red rimmed eyes stared back before they eventually looked away. "That's what I thought." Dante scoffed. "Baines told you to fetch and like a good dog, you wagged your tail and ran off without a second thought."

"Orders are orders." Lady couldn't meet his eyes.

"Sure, they are. Like how I'm a demon and you've killed more people than I have." Lady flinched like she was slapped with those words. Dante almost felt bad. Almost. "I may have demonic blood running through my veins, but at least I still know right from wrong." She looked to be on the verge of crying. "My mother taught me that much at least."

A fist was thrown at Dante's face, but he didn't flinch. It met the glass with a thump and he heard something in her hand crack. "I don't know what I expected from you when I came here." Lady seethed, on the verge of shedding tears. "But I don't care anymore. I hope they drain you fucking dry you piece of shit."

"Drain me dry?" Dante laughed in her face. "What more can they take? They took my sword, my keepsake, and my fucking coat. Actually, you might be right. It would be weird for the government not to take everything they can."

"Eat shit and die." Lady spat at the glass and walked away.

"Don't worry sweetheart, it'll probably happen soon." Unless he could get the out of this damned place. "Add another notch to your belt once I bite it, will ya? Something to make sure you remember me by." The only response he got was Lady's footsteps fading away. He sighed to himself and scratched the back of his head in frustration after a moment. He might have gotten carried away.

Lady was the only one here who he had any kind of bridge with, and he just threw napalm on it without a second thought. Great going, Dante. You've thoroughly screwed yourself now. Getting out was now a lot harder and he still felt like shit, physically and mentally. His foot stepped in something wet. He looked down to see his foot stepped spilt milk and the ruined all over the floor.

Guess he wasn't eating tonight.

She was on a warpath.

Mary wanted to scream, wanted to rip Dante's fucking head off and mount it on a wall. The half breed prick deserved just as much. How dare he lecture her? She was a demon hunter! A soldier! She knew that not every decision was morally sound, but she trusted her superiors. They tried to protect as many people as possible, tried to minimize casualties…

Then she led Darkcom right into the White Rabbit's hideout.

People moved out of her way as she stormed through the halls. Lady nearly barreled over two privates who tried to salute her. Her glare sent them scampering away. She finally reached her dorm and slammed the door shut behind her. She paced back and forth, wanting to scream but that wasn't the expectation of an officer.

"Stupid fucking piece of shit demon dick. Who the fuck does he think he is? What gives him the God damn right? The fucking audacity? Here I was ready to help that ungrateful fucking prick, and he throws it all in my face? Fuck him!" She wanted to say he deserved to rot in that cell, but he didn't. Every word out of that damned mouth held some truth to it. She went into the bathroom to splash some water in her face.

Mary did betray his trust.

She knew it was wrong but did it anyways. Mary could always rationalize it before on previous missions. Could've been bad information, a cock-up on their end, or even an unexpected situation that wasn't planned for. It happens in the field, and they prepare themselves for that. The guilt could always be justified, the blame shifted to something else. Now with her team dead and the one person who had any idea how she felt was in a cell, there was no one left.

Mary looked up and saw her reflection staring back. Bloodshot eyes like her fathers and tears that reminded her of her mother. A face that couldn't decide to rage or cry at everyone around them, and a trembling fury that made her look deranged. All of it mashed together into a bitch who had less humanity than a demon. How proud would they be if they saw her now?

She punched the mirror, trying to get rid of the horrible visage. It cracked but didn't shatter, blood from her hand staining the glass. "Ow." Her voice sounded pathetic, cradling her hand. She slumped onto the floor and curled in on herself. The only company she had was the weight of her decisions, hanging on her like a cloak.

A weight that nearly suffocates her.

Clouds moved across the sky, carrying blessed water for the life below. They hid the moon away, for that divine eye wasn't meant to see what was happening. The rain started, the thunder and lightning giving rhythm to the sound of nature. A building made of stone and steel housed an unwanted devil and cursed spawn of man was baptized by the waters. And by providence or by circumstance, there was more divine intervention to come.

Reality bent and cracked on the gravel roof, sickly green scars ripping open the skin of reality. The grey hand of a giant came through and gripped the edge of the portal, tearing it wider. Hidden by thunder and shrouded by rain, the demon stepped through, followed by the lesser spawn of its kin. It breathed deeply, the giants' misshapen nose picking up a scent that it could never forget. A boiling rage ignited in its belly and all it could do was hate.

Its voice was broken and made the sound of boulder crushing stone. Only one word was uttered from its scarred lips.

"Sparda…"

I've realized to make this story work; Dante needs to have a canon reason for being nerfed so much. I'm still playing around with the specifics, but I think I have something figured out. Until next time.

Overtime sucks

Feed the Machine

Rock music played on the radio like a long-lost lullaby. Dante was in the driver's seat while Lady was passed out in the passenger. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep after he hotwired the car and got moving. She tried fighting it, but after they got on the highway and started cruising, it was a forgone conclusion. He did have trouble figuring out where he was because, you know, a secret government facility wasn't exactly on the map.

After a half hour though, he was back on track to his old home. No GPS made it difficult to figure out the way, but he was nothing if not resourceful. He just hoped he didn't get pulled over. It would be hard to explain the sword, rocket launcher and other guns that were stored in the back seat and trunk. And their clothes covered in blood, among everything else.

Yeah, if they did get pulled over, he might have to knock out that cop.

Thankfully, that didn't happen. Just an hour of night driving and Lady mumbling in her sleep. The drive was weirdly peaceful, all things considering. Streetlights began to illuminate familiar signs and old buildings, home to tenants and business alike. A clinic on one corner, a theatre on the other, it was a town that you'd make memories in and forget the next day. He drove through most of town and turned off on a road near the outskirts.

Dante saw the wooden sign first; 'Rose Cemetery' in faded gothic. The graveyard was open, headstones lining the ground for the dead. A modest church watched over the graves, a silent caretaker for those who died and for those who visit. Buildings built back in the day were sturdy like that, even the old farmhouse that sat right beside it.

He pulled into the dirt parking lot of the old church and shut off the car. His eyes fell on the decorative glass windows of the building, seeing a dull light flickering within. Dante couldn't help but smirk to himself when he got out of the car. The old man was always an insomniac. Grabbing his sword, he realized Lady hadn't budged an inch since they stopped. Dante hefted Rebellion on his shoulder and walked around to the passenger side of the car.

Now, Dante was in an interesting position. Opening the car door, he leaned on the roof of the car and found it amusing how strange she looked asleep. Lady had a resting bitch face, furrowed brows, angry glare, the whole nine yards. Now though, she looked almost approachable. It was both a wonder and plausible that she didn't wear make-up. Their line of work usually focused on violence and survival above all else.

Dante opened the door, and she still didn't stir. Just how tired was she? Sticking his sword in the ground, Dante prepared to wake the beast. "Hey." He gently nudged her shoulder. As he expected, Lady immediately reacted like a frightened cobra, eyes snapping open and fists swinging. He caught both her hands, holding them as she got her bearings. "Hey, take a breath." Her darting eyes finally locked onto his.

"What?" She asked, dazed and confused.

"We're in Thornhill." He said, "About two hours north of Jericho City."

"Thornhill?" Lady started to relax in his grip. "Why are we here?"

"Um…" Now that was a question and a half, wasn't it? "Let's just say it's safe." Dante avoided the question. "Plus the food ain't bad."

"Uh huh." Lady glanced to her hands, which were held by him. "You can let me go now."

"Right." Dante let them go and stood back. "Right, right, right." He didn't know why he missed the feeling. Now that he thought about it, he didn't have any friends anymore after he started Demon Hunting. Enzo was dead and the few contacts he had were mostly business partners. Watching Lady get her gear from the stolen car, he realized he's been around her longer than most people since he started living on his own.

Lady slammed the car door and hefted the launcher on her back. She looked up and saw where they were. Dante met her gaze and her raised eyebrow. "A church?" Saying she sounded skeptical was an understatement. "Don't you burst into flames inside these things?"

"Ha." He grabbed his sword and walked towards the entrance. "I've been burned once or twice, but never burst into flames." Lady hummed in doubt but followed. The doors were wooden with iron trim, taller than him and worn with decades of use. A loud groaning creak came from the hinges as he pushed them open, the warm smell of candles and ancient wood greeting him. Shadows danced along the pews from the wicks near the altar, where a priest read from a great tome.

Behind him was the crucified son himself, carved out of wood. There was always a joke in there that Dante couldn't quite get right. The man though, looked up from the book as they entered. "Good evening," He welcomed them, closing the book. "how can I be of service?" His gaze hid behind reading glasses. The priest couldn't properly see them in this light. A slow grin grew on Dante's face.

"What's the matter, old man?" He teased, sauntering up to him. "Don't you recognize the best demon hunter around?" He looked older since Dante last saw him. His black hair was starting to grey, and he had a rough beard now. Age was starting to catch up to him, but he didn't let it show. Each movement from the priest was purposeful and controlled.

"That's an odd thing to say." The priest replied, walking down to meet them. "Because I doubt it would be a wild child like you." There was a smile on the old man's face now. Dante embraced him when they finally met. "It's good to see you, Dante." He leaned back with a hand on his shoulder and got a good look at Dante, the priest's green eyes studying his torn and bloodstained scrubs. Then his eyes went to his neck, where it was lacking a pendant. "What in God's name happened to you?"

"Long story." Dante explained. "You could say I got into the wrong crowd."

"I'll say." His gaze switched from him to Lady. "Who's your friend?"

"Mary." Lady said. "And I'm not his friend."

"More of that long story?"

Lady met Dante's eyes before shifting back. "Something like that." She crossed her arms and glared at the priest. "Who the fuck are you anyway?"

He met her gaze, unfazed by the rude question. "I'm James Redgrave, Rector of Rose Cemetery and this here Parish." James walked up to Lady and sized her up, taking in the ruined uniform and weapon on her back. "And I would ask that you please not swear in the house of the Lord."

Lady tried to stare him down but failed. "Fine, but I'm not praying."

"I wasn't going to ask you to." James said, smiling. "How about we get you two cleaned up, hm? I'm sure I can find some old clothes for both of you. Racheal will be pleasantly surprised you've stopped by, Dante."

"Yeah…" Dante silently cursed to himself. "Definitely pleasant." He was starting to remember why he hadn't come back in years. The guilt was already nagging in the back of his head.

"I'm sure you'll be fine." James assured him, leading them towards the house. "Come now, it's time for rest. We can talk in the morning." Lady caught his eyes while they walked, wanting answers. He shrugged in response, silently mouthing 'later' to her.

It was embarrassing to say anything else.

Hot water ran down her body, washing away the dirt, blood, and grime. The cut on her arm wasn't deep and was already starting to scab over. That priest, James, gave her a once over, checking her injuries first before looking at Dante. Mary didn't know what to make of him. The man was dangerous, that much was for sure. He wasn't fazed by her or her weapon at all and the way he carried himself suggested he was a veteran.

Whatever the case, Dante said it was safe and there wasn't much room for an argument. She was in their shower for fucks sake. Speaking of which, she probably stayed in for long enough. Turning off the water and missing the warmth, she stepped out and dried herself off. The wound on her arm would join the rest of the scars on her body, knowing there were many more to come.

Emerging from the bathroom dressed in an oversized shirt and some surprisingly comfortable pajama pants, she walked to the room with the only light on. The house was old, and she felt like she was invading someone else's memory. The room looked like something out of a teenage boy's catalogue too. Band posters on the walls, action figures, books, a dresser, knives mounted on the walls. The only odd thing was that there were two beds on opposite sides of the room.

One of them was occupied by Dante, clad in shorts and black tank top, sitting and looking at a framed photo. There were no wounds on his body, just toned muscle and clear skin. Mary could only imagine how many scars he would have if he was human.

"It's weird, you know?" He started, focusing on the photo. "Knowing who my dad is kind of… puts things in perspective."

"Oh?" Mary closed the door behind her and sat on the other bed. She wasn't good at… whatever this is. Reminiscing?

"Yeah, just…" He struggled to find the right words. "Figuring out why I am the way I am. I used to think I was from Krypton, you know?"

"Pfft." Mary barely contained her amusement. "You mean like Superman? You thought you were him?"

"Well, what else was I supposed to think?" Dante laughed at the thought, still holding the picture. "I was stronger than most people, faster, tougher. I couldn't play with any other kids because they'd get hurt. Couldn't get sunburnt either." There was a tinge of regret in his voice. "James was the only one that I couldn't hurt. Every day when he had time, we'd throw each other around. 'Be strong enough to be gentle.' He'd say. Damned lunatic."

"Is he not human?" She couldn't see how Dante could be rough with anyone and not accidentally kill them.

"Oh, he is." There wasn't any doubt in his voice. "I'd see the bruises when he thought I wasn't looking. He'd deny it of course, but that's just who he was." He was silent after that, deep in thought. "Trying his best to make me feel normal." Mary didn't know what to say, so she just said the first thing that came to mind.

"So, is he like your uncle or something?" She asked.

"No." He set the photo down, on it was a teenage Dante with a younger looking James, posing with a few girls and a plain looking woman. "After… I guess after the demons attacked, James found me in the closet. The fire took everything else." She couldn't help but feel some kinship between them. Their childhoods baptized by fire and brimstone. An urge to comfort him welled up inside her, but she squashed it down. He didn't need her sympathy.

"He took some time to calm me down and get me out of there. I don't remember much if I'm being honest. What I do know is that he was a friend of my parents back in the day." He paused after he said that, realizing something. "Now that I think about it, James probably knew who my dad was." A heavy silence followed after he said it, his expression turning into something thoughtful. She could see the leaps in logic going through his head in real time.

"I'm sure he had his reasons to keep it from you." Mary interrupted to stop that mental spiral.

"Yeah. He… He must've." There was some anger in his voice. "All this time… Did he know about Vergil? Did he know who killed mom? Does he know where dad is? Did-" Now, Mary didn't know why she got up from her bed or why she grabbed his face.

"Hey." But it did wonders shutting him up. She made sure his clear blue eyes were focused on hers. "Stop it. You can ask those questions in the morning." Making sure she still had his attention, Mary let him go. "Right now, we both" A yawn escaped her, "we both need some fucking sleep." She turned off the lights and collapsed on the other bed, getting comfortable. "And I don't want your shattering world views keeping me up."

A mirthless chuckle escaped him. "Right… Sleep." He laid down on his bed, and as dumb as it sounded, could hear him thinking. "I feel like all I've been doing is sleeping."

"Then you should be good at by now." She commented.

"Hey, lady?" He asked after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck you."

The corners of her mouth quirked upwards as she turned over. "Fuck you too."

"This wasn't part of the deal." The voice from the phone rasped, irritated at the change of events.

"Things change with new developments, I'm sure you're familiar with this." Baines took a sip from his coffee and set it back on his desk. "And from what I recall, you changed the deal after you got your hands on it."

"The device was revolutionary and made from scrap." Was that begrudging respect Baines heard in his voice? "How that Rabbit made it work without killing himself is beyond me. It must be the material he used. We may be finally able to recode and stabilize our vaccine with it."

"Vaccine?" The Vice president was amused at what he would describe as a plague. "Tell me Isaacs, what is it you're trying to cure?"

"You know damn well, you warmongering zealot." The door to his office opened, his aide Markus peaking his head through. He silently waived him over. Markus knew to be quiet. "Humanity is a blight upon itself. And like a patient who doesn't know how to treat themselves, they need a guiding hand."

"On that we can agree on." Dealing with the masses throughout his career, Baines had become disillusioned to the idea that the average person knew what was best for them. Gluttony, sloth, envy, lust, every sin imaginable ran rampant through the world. Nowadays it seemed like only a handful of men and women are able to rise above their baser instincts to become something better.

The idea of introducing a caste system became more appealing every day.

"I just don't want a repeat of Racoon City." He said instead. "The number of resources I had to use to cover up your blunder were astronomical. Be happy the public only thinks it was just a mass riot and not some runaway virus." They didn't have to know he recovered evidence just as insurance, but maybe by then it would be useless. Their 'cure' was quite potent.

"We had our own contingencies in place." He growled out. "You just saw an opportunity to meddle in our affairs."

"Opportunities do prove fruitful at times." Baines said. "And you have the opportunity to partake in said fruit. Your associate, Dr. Planter, was ecstatic with what he found."

Isaacs grumbled something over the phone before answering. "That brat is too eager for his own good." He was silent for a moment. "Three units should be enough for testing."

"Hmmm." It was a good deal, Baines just wanted him to squirm for a moment. "Send all relevant data to my charity, you know the one. Then we'll have an agreement."

"Good. We'll be in touch." Isaacs hung up after that, the abrasive man too pragmatic for goodbyes.

"Pleasant as always." Baines muttered. He turned to Markus, who was waiting by his side. Baines was fortunate to find him during a speaking seminar at one of the colleges while on the campaign trail. Family ties to Rome and eager to learn the ways of politics, he realized he found himself a great apprentice. It was always important to secure the future as soon as possible. "What do you have for me?"

"Eden's Crypt has been attacked, sir." He said, handing him a tablet.

"Oh?" Baines gingerly took the pad and scrolled through the report. "How bad were the casualties?"

"113 dead and 74 injured." Markus answered.

Baines grimaced at the number. Darkcom already took a significant hit to personnel since the White Rabbit's exploits in Jericho City, but this was making things worse. Equipment could be replaced; the pockets of the United States Government were deeper than Hell itself. But lives and experience that were lost along with that were far harder to come back from. He scrolled through the information while drinking his coffee.

"What of Sparda's Artifacts?" He asked, still searching. Markus would've gone through the whole thing by now and then some.

"Separated and shipped to other bases as directed."

"Good, good." They already filled their quota of near world ending events this year. "And Dante?"

"Escaped, Sir."

"Of Course." Baines rolled his eyes in annoyance. From what he could tell, the demons were probably drawn to Eden's Crypt because Dante was there. Project Nephilim would be severely hampered by it, but they had enough material to continue. For the most part, he served his purpose. The Campaign into Hell was well under way, putting everything else on the back burner.

A video near the end of the report caught his eye. He clicked play. "What's this?"

"Footage of Dante's escape."

Baines hummed in acknowledgement as he pressed play. The scene unfolded from a high angled view overlooking the dome. He watched as Dante fought a giant demon that fell from the ceiling with silent interest. Before he could meet his end, Lieutenant Arkham arrived to save him. Baines continued to watch, noting their actions, Devil transformation, and surprising teamwork. After a showy execution, the beast fell in a bloody heap. He could see its mouth moving. "Do we have audio?"

"Unfortunately, no. The cameras here were designed for observation only."

"Shame." Baines observed them collapsing on the ground next to it. Then something strange happened. A glowing orb manifested from the demon's corpse and floated towards Dante. Fascination grabbed him as he saw it disappear into him in a flash of light and manifested gauntlets and greaves on Dante's limbs. Not only that, but he appeared rejuvenated afterwards. Baines paused the video and rewound the footage. "Do you have any information on this?"

"No, sir." Markus said, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "At best, our only assumption is that slaying a… Perhaps the term 'Powerful Demon' could be used, results in a transfer of energy, manifested as a weapon or even vitality."

"But why didn't it go to Arkham?" From what he could see, both of them were the same distance away.

"Dante's heritage could be a factor sir."

"Ah." That made sense. Like electricity, demonic energy would go to the place with least resistance. Maybe there was another factor that they were missing that played into it. There wasn't enough information right now. "This could explain Sparda's monumental power." Baines murmured, thinking more about it. "Turning against Hell would give him plenty of demons to gather power from." Something to file away for later.

"That's not all, keep watching."

Baines continued the video. He watched as Dante 'played' around with his new weapons, launching the demon's corpse into the ceiling, making the camera shake. It crashed to the ground while Dante flourished the new weapon. At will, he made them disappear. Definitely something to do with his heritage then. Shouldering his blade, Baines watched with genuine curiosity as Lt. Arkham pulled a gun on him as he tried to walk away.

Baines couldn't hear the words, but he could tell the exchange was heated. She was struggling with something, before putting the gun down. After a few more words, Lt. Arkham lead Dante out of the facility. The video ended. "Interesting." Baines put the tablet down on his desk.

"What would you like to do sir?" Markus asked.

What would he like to do? He just watched an officer abandon her post, not to mention flee with a prisoner. He already knew Arkham's devotion for the cause was wavering. In the reports he read from the field, she was the one who originally put it into his soldier's heads that the demons were refugees of all things. In hindsight, it may be because of Dante's influence of being a half breed. That still didn't answer the question about what to do with her.

"Dishonorably discharge her." He finally said, a plan coming together. "Drain most of her assets but leave her qualifications and licenses untouched. I want her backed into a corner." There was still a way to use this to his advantage.

"Should we put out a warrant for arrest?" Markus was already tapping away his orders.

"No." Baines immediately shot down the idea. "No need for such heavy-handed measures. She will still be doing the Lord's work, I'm sure." What he needed was for her to have no one else. As great of a soldier that she was, she was still just a soldier. Even as they were hemorrhaging experience, what he had in mind was far more important. "Keep then monitored if possible. Knowing Dante, they're bound to get in our hair eventually." Why expend the effort when they'll just come to him?

"Very good sir." Markus said. "And where should we allocate the funds to?" Baines mulled it over. It was more of a punishment for Arkham than a need for money.

"Aren't you expecting a baby?" He asked, remembering Markus scheduled paternity leave in a few months.

"Yes sir, the fiancé is excited." Fiancé? Well, that just won't do.

"Transfer the money into our HR budget." He said, getting out a checkbook. "How much did we take?"

"If we're taking roughly 80% of her totally liquidity, including retirement, it comes out roughly to $121,551." That much? Arkham was quite a frugal Lady. Writing the check out to the exact amount, he handed it to Markus. It was important to reward loyalty.

"Think of this as your wedding gift, use it wisely." Markus gingerly took the check, a smile gracing his tanned features. "I'll be expecting an invite."

"Yes sir! Thank you, sir!" It was good to know he was excited over the reward.

"You're welcome." Baines got up from his desk, grabbing his coat and coffee. Shame it was already cold. "Now, what's on the agenda today?"

Markus hurriedly stashed the check in his wallet. "We have a meeting with the president in an hour and a conference at the Pentagon at 1400." He dutifully said, following him.

"Ugh, what does that cowboy want now?" Managing the president was starting to become a hassle. Yes, he was charismatic, but that didn't translate into competency. But then again, the president is just a temp worker at worst and a tyrant at best. Baines would just have to bide his time until the moment was right.

"From what I understand, it's advice on how to spin the existence of demons into his favor. There are already movements being formed in defense of them."

"At least he's doing his job." Baines said, wondering just who in Gods name would rally with demons. "Better to nip that in the bud while possible. Gather as much footage from the attack on Eden's Crypts as you can, the crueler the better. Make a reel of, let's say two minutes long. Have our boys and girls in marketing put something together."

"Will do." Markus tapped away at his pad as he walked. "Anything else?"

"Tell me about something going on overseas. A conversation piece." It couldn't be all business, and the United States was only part of the world, no matter how powerful.

"I heard there's a street fighting tournament happening in Japan." His aide rattled off. "There've been a bunch of memes about it on social media recently."

"Street fighting, huh?" Baines thought he'd heard it all by now. "That's a new one."

I'll try to keep the updates more consistent. I wanted to put a bit of backstory into Dante, since there's a huge gap between him being a kid and being who he is now. Until Next time.

Just a heads up, this one might be a bit of a lore dump. I tried not to make it so boring.

Through Glass

"Mary had a little lamb…"

Bloody feet carried her through the halls.

"Little lamb, little lamb…"

She ran as fast as she could, dodging around corners and passing by doors that lined the endless hallway. Opening them was out of the question, dead hands of former friends would reach out, beckoning her to join them. The only thing friends do is die, and they wanted her to try it. She couldn't think about that right now. Blood from her feet leaves such a nice trail for that thing to find her. Everywhere she stepped blood would always follow.

"It's fleece was white as snow…"

A familiar door appeared at the end of the hallway, wooden, cracked, and promised salvation. Her feet slipped on the cheap carpet, fear running through her veins. Screeching of the damned echoed behind her, the rapid footsteps getting louder.

"And everywhere that Mary went…" That voice cursed by suffering chased after her. Crashing against the door, childlike hands wrapped around the handle and pulled. "…Mary went, Mary went…" Scrambling in, she slammed the door behind her. A familiar family of demons in a familiar room looked back at her.

"That lamb was sure to go…" The voice knocked, shaking the door and her body pressed against it. They stared at her with hollow eyes, asking something. She shook her head. Don't open the door.

"It followed her to school one day." Cracks started appearing in the door, each word buckling the wood. They tilted their heads, wondering who was knocking. She rushed past them as her heart hammered, hiding herself in the closet. "School one day, school one day…" The doors wouldn't shut, leaving a crack open.

A gloved hand dipped in bone burst through the wood. "Which was against the rules…" Another one followed, ripping through the entrance while the demons stood and watched. Something tall, in a dirty suit loomed over them. "And so, the teacher turned them out…" A sickening crunch of bone and meat being ripped apart came from them. All she saw was a splatter a blood. "Turned them out, turned them out…"

She covered her ears and shut her eyes, trying to block out the sounds. "But still, it lingered near…" The Voice. Wouldn't. Stop. Cries from a baby scraped against her mind. She backed away deeper into the closet, hiding behind the torn clothes.

"…And waited, patiently, patiently, patiently…" The ripping and tearing abruptly ended, footfalls from the thing pacing around the room, searching. "…Waited patiently 'til Mary did appear…" It stepped in something wet, then stopped. "Mary had a little lamb…" The wretched voice started to fade as it started humming again, footfalls following it. "Little lamb, little lamb…"

She waited. It could've been hours, it could've been seconds, she still kept her eyes screwed shut. If she can't see it, it can't be real. Slowly, she removed her hands. The only sounds were her breathing and water dripping. Heart hammering, she opened her eyes.

Through the crack in the closet, a red eye in a stitched face stared back.

"Hello Mary."

A thump followed by scurrying woke Dante from his slumber. His eye cracked open in time for someone to ram into the side of his bed. "Wha?" He saw a shock of black hair in his vision, and something grab onto his arm hanging off the bed in a death grip. The slight pain helped wake his brain up. "Lady?" She was trembling at the side of his bed, seated on the floor with her back to him.

"Just a dream." She breathed deeply. "Just a dream…" Her nails digging into his skin, holding onto his arm like it was a lifeline.

"…Okay…" This was… weird. Dante has had nightmares before but nothing like this. Sure, he'd wake up in a cold sweat, that was normal. Even a bit of hyperventilating was expected, not this though. And seeing Lady of all people like this probably meant it must've been one hell of a trip. Trying his best to not startle her even more, he carefully sat up. "You know, there are easier ways to get in bed with me."

Lady turned her head and glared at him, her mismatched eyes wide with fear. "Shut up." Her gripped eased a fraction. "Only some desperate would want to get in bed with you."

"That mean you're desperate?" Dante joked. Good news was he could see the fear disappearing.

"I don't know." She scoffed, turning around. Bad news? It meant she would be pissed. Lady twisted herself, flipping Dante onto the floor and putting him into an arm bar. It didn't hurt at all, but it felt like an insult. "You tell me." Her feet were in his face, heels pushing against his cheek. Now he stopped feeling sorry.

Her smirk faded when he stood up, her hanging off his limb. It disappeared completely when he bit her foot. Lady yelped, kicking him in the face. He staggered; her other foot hit his stomach. He let his balance fail, making them tumble. They fell in a tangle of limbs. Dante got a face full of shirt before his back hit the bedframe. His grunt was muffled, being smothered by Lady's body.

"You dick!" He felt her weight settle, straddling him. "You bit me!" The atmosphere felt weird.

He looked up to her and tried to get the edge of the bed out of his back. "You put your feet in my face."

"To shut you up." Her finger poked his chest.

"Would you rather me lick it then?" He asked. "Is that what you're into?"

"Ew." Lady pulled a face. "Why are you so weird?"

"Well, thousands of years ago, my dad had a beef with the devil." Dante droned. "They fought, had drinks, fought some more. And aft-" Her hand clamped onto his mouth.

"Shut. Up." The urge to say something sarcastic was great, but the smell of something delicious stopped him. His stomach audibly growled, snapping them both out of whatever was going on. Lady looked down to see how she was straddling him, and he looked down to see just how loose that shirt was on her. "…Um…" She was starting to blush, and he felt his own heat creeping up his neck.

It was cute.

"Breakfast smells good, huh?" He offered. Fuck, why is this awkward?

"Yeah, um…" She quickly got off him, dusting herself off. "I'm going to go… brush my teeth." He watched her leave the room in a hurry. Now that he thought about it, they didn't have toothbrushes. They didn't have anything. What was she doing?

His stomach growled at him.

Questions for later. He was starving now. He followed his nose to the kitchen, the scent of familiar food bringing back memories. Not only that, but he heard familiar voices as well.

"Why didn't you wake me up!?" For the first time in years, he heard Racheal's voice in loud whisper. A pang of sentimental guilt tugged at his heart and Dante didn't know what to do with it. Before he could stop himself, his stomach pulled him around the corner. Racheal was facing away from him, setting the table while James was at the stove cooking. She had her brown hair put up to keep it out of her face. "He comes back for the first time in years, and you let me sleep!?"

Their kitchen was just the same as he remembered it. Wooden cabinets lining the walls, broken up by an old window. A gas stove was shoved on one end of the room while the dining room table was on the other. They always somehow made the place big enough for everyone. It felt empty now. "They needed sleep." James said, voice calm. "You didn't see how tired they were." He didn't seem to notice him.

"They!" Rachael was trying desperately to contain her excitement. "He brought a girl home James!" She was damn near oblivious to him standing near the doorway. "What's she like?" James chuckled at the question, eyes flicking to Dante.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" The old bastard sold him out. Racheal turned on a dime, spotting Dante instantly. Even for someone who could outrun an explosion, he barely had a chance to brace himself. 155 pounds of woman slammed into his chest, engulfing him in a bear hug.

Dante felt his ribs creak.

"Oh, it's so good to see you!" A maternal voice muffled into his chest.

"Go-" She squeezed harder, making it hard to breathe. "Good to see you too, Rae."

"It better be." She let him go and cuffed him on the shoulder. "Three years and not even a 'hey, I'm alive.' What's the matter with you?" Rachael fixed him with an all too familiar glare. Growing up, he thought he'd grown out of it. Turns out, he'd only forgotten how guilty it made him felt. Here she was, in her grey robe with her hip cocked to the side ready to shoot down any excuse he had. Why didn't he reach out to them?

"I, uh…" He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "I was busy?" He knew it was the wrong answer the moment the words left his mouth. Memories of spending his downtime playing games, gambling and chasing women made him feel like shit. All while living out of an abandoned building in Downtown.

"Busy?" Rachael repeated. Dante spotted James behind her silently whistle and turn his attention back to cooking. The old man left him to fend for himself. "You were busy for three whole years?" But right now he had more pressing matters.

"Not really." He tried to find the right reason. God, this was going to bruise his pride. "I…" Words felt dry in his mouth. "I'm sorry. Things just… Got away from me." Dante leaned against the wall, steadying himself. "I thought you'd be ashamed of me, you know?"

He heard James scoff like he heard an amusing joke. Dante's eyes narrowed in irritation. What the hell was so funny?

"Dante." Rachael's tone grabbed his attention, the woman wiping away the corner of her eyes. "We'd never be ashamed of you, alright?"

"Sure." He couldn't meet her eyes, let alone believe it. Dante could tell she knew what he was thinking but didn't press the issue.

"Mhm. Now take a seat!" Rachael motioned towards the table. "It's been ages, and you must be hungry."

"Starving actually." Dante took a seat, already salivating at the thought of food. "Prison food just doesn't cut it."

"Prison?" Dante heard a record scratch somewhere as Rachael asked the question.

"Long story." James said, coming to his rescue. He brought over a plate of hearty breakfast food and placed it in front of him. "A story I'm hoping you'll share."

"Yeah, well…" He picked at the food in front of him, the smell distracting his brain. Dante had questions of his own, but those could wait for now. "A lot happened." He met James eyes. "A lot."

"I knew I shouldn't have stopped smoking." James grumbled, going back to making food. The old man probably has an idea of what those question are.

"Oh, hush you." Rachael chided. "Now tell us how you met that girl."

Dante's blank stare met hers. "You mean how I ended up in prison?" He reminded her.

"Right, that." She waved off the comment like it never happened. Of course that's what she was focused on. "How'd it happen?" Internally, he rolled his eyes.

"Well…" Where should he start? Probably with… Enzo. "One of my friends reached out to me for a job…"

The sink ran while Mary splashed water on her face, trying to cool down the heat radiating from it. She felt equal parts irritated and flustered. What the fuck was she thinking? Mary looked in the mirror, hoping her reflection would have an answer. She didn't have a good answer either, only staring back at her like she was an idiot. "Must've been the fucking dream." She muttered to herself, turning off the sink.

Nightmares were something she was used to, but this was just sad. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation coming back in full force because it felt so real. It was the hardest she slept in a couple days after all. Nothing to worry about, just exhaustion. It's what she told herself when her mind kept going back to how… solid Dante was.

Even her own brain was starting to betray her.

She banished the thoughts and focused on important things, like food, meeting Dante's guardians, and trying to figure out just how fucked her life is now after walking away from her career.

You know, normal things.

Voices floated through the hallway, coming from the kitchen no doubt. Pictures lined the hall, some of the priest and his family with Dante, some without. It reminded her of some of the foster homes she was in before they gave her back to the orphanage. She felt more at home there anyway, her parents were dead and there was no replacing them. Curiosity though, pulled her back into the room she slept in.

This was Dante's old room; how could you not snoop around?

"There's no way this fucker had a normal childhood." She mumbled, trying to justify her actions. "I didn't and there's no damn way he did either." Mary started looking through his belongs. The few pictures that were there were group photos of him and his guardians, completely mundane by her standards. There was only one of just him and he looked to be in his teens, elbow deep in a truck's hood covered in grease. Even then, he still looked like a cocky bastard.

Mary smirked at the thought.

Putting the photo down, she found her eyes drawn to a black guitar case in the corner. He played guitar? The personality certainly fit. She wondered what kind he played, probably an electric. Unzipping it, she was surprised to find it empty. The case only had black padding within, which was weirder. Great for hiding a weapon if you needed to… smuggle it.

He was demon hunting from a young age, wasn't he?

Mary didn't know whether to be angry at the priest for raising Dante this way or understanding because it was Dante. He had power and there were always people who'd do anything to get it. She closed the case, putting it back where she found it. Guess the life chooses you whether you like it or not. Mary actively sought it out, wanting to wipe out demon kind for destroying her family. Memories of the demon family hiding in the run-down building came back to her.

Now though? Now it wasn't so simple.

But food was. The appetizing aroma that filled the house reminded her of her hunger. Voices drifted to her ears from the kitchen, something that felt alien yet familiar to her.

"…beast was huge, I'm talking at least forty to fifty feet tall. It looked like one of these things from Greek myth or something. You know, the one with different animal parts?" Sounded like Dante was filling them in.

"A chimera?" She heard James reply. Mary peaked around the doorway to see them at the table. There was an empty seat next to Dante with a plate full of fresh food. Not only that, but there was a motherly woman there that she could only assume to be Rachael.

"Yeah, that." Dante said between mouthfuls of food. "Called himself Beowulf or something. Either way, this guy is towering over me, I'm stuck in a glass box, haven't had a good meal in a hot minute, and I'm pretty sure the government was using me as guineapig. We fight, I'm barely hanging on, the guy stings me with his tail and swats me into the wall. Blood's just leaking from me, my body's burning, and I'm thi-"

"Dante…" Rachael interrupted him, sounding exasperated at this point.

"Don't worry, Rae, we're getting to the good part." He assured her. "So, there I was, waiting to meet mom and chew out God when Lady, out of nowhere, nails this thing in the head with a missile." Mary slowly moved out into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under her weight. Three sets of eyes turned to her.

Mary felt like a deer in headlights.

"Uh…" Words failed her, Mary's brain popping smoke and wishing her good luck.

"Sorta like that." Dante continued, pointing a finger at her. "Except, you know, a bit more badass and armed to the teeth."

"Dante!" Rachael chastised him.

"Sorry, couldn't help it." He apologized. "Come on, take a seat." He pulled out the chair next to him. "Introduce yourself, I've already told them so much about you." His smile hid devious intentions, that much she was sure about. Did he tell them about her arresting him? Planting a bomb in his neck? Oh God, did he tell them about the second time she drugged him?

"Thank you for the food." Mary mumbled instead, ignoring him as she sat down. All she had to do was not colossally fuck up.

"You're welcome." James sipped his coffee, eyeing her with suspicion. "And what happened with the demon, Dante?"

"He died." Dante summarized. "I demonized myself while Lady-"

"Mary." She corrected through a mouthful of food. Why was it so good?

"What I said." He leaned back in his chair. "I stabbed him, lopped off his head, he rambled on about something cryptic, then something floated out of his eye and gave me this." Dante flexed and one of his new metal gauntlets materialized out of thin air. It was brutally ornate and looked like it was forged out of dark iron. "Cool, huh?"

Rachael Was leaning back in her seat, eyes wide and concerned.

"That's new." The priest didn't seem fazed at all by the new addition. "Is it just the arm?"

"Nope." Dante put his feet up on the table, showing off his new weapons. "Both arms and boots." Rachael swatted his legs, making him put the offending legs down.

"So that's what a Devil Arm looks like." James hummed behind his mug.

"Wait, you know what those things are?" The words flew out of Mary's mouth before she could stop herself. There was a pregnant pause, the question hanging in the air like a can of worms that needed to be opened. The priest stared her down, looked over to Dante, then sighed.

"Maybe I need a drink." He mumbled, the man looking every bit his age.

"You knew…?" Dante probably didn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, but Mary couldn't blame him.

"I did." It was rare to see a priest confess without looking guilty. "But before I get into the nitty gritty details, I'm going to need some good liquor in me."

"On what? Church wine?" Mary was curious to hear about Dante's father as well. He was the one that set everything in motion.

"For a dainty lady like you, that might be enough." The priest got up while Mary was processing the fact that a priest just insulted her. "For me though?" He rummaged through one of the cabinets pulling out and old glass bottle. "Rum is more my style."

"I met your father while working a job in Jericho City." James started, hand on his fourth drink and eyes staring in the past. "An Archbishop of the Vatican sent down orders for an exorcism that the local priests there were having trouble with. Details were that the-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Dante interrupted him, slamming his hands on the table. "You were with the Vatican?"

"Excommunicated, sort of, but we'll get to that." James waved him off, giving them more questions than answers. "Details were that officials in government were acting strange, one of them assaulting a priest during a charity event. They did their due diligence and started asking questions." James took a long drink from his mug. "Their assessment was that the official was possessed and needed to be exorcised."

"How the hell did they come to that conclusion?" Lady asked, crossing her arms in her chair. The food was gone with Rachael washing the dishes.

"Change in behavior, scent of sulfur following them around, aversion to certain practices, the list can go on, but it's a case-by-case thing." He explained. "Either way, that's the conclusion they came up with and tried to do an exorcism themselves. Problem was that it had to be done voluntarily by the guy's family or friends. As you can imagine, that went poorly, but the clergy there was insistent on it being done. The law protected him though, so they turned to the Vatican for help. That's when they contacted me."

"Why you?" Dante had a few theories, but none of them were sound.

"I apprenticed under Father Amorth, an exorcist, for a number of years and was in the process of taking over this Parish in town when I got the call. Exorcists are the ancestors of demon hunting, and he was one of the best, hence why they called me." He emptied his cup, grabbing the bottle for more. "It really was just a matter of who was closest."

"Exorcists in the church are demon hunters?" Lady was just as confused as he was. "Why haven't I heard of this? The government would have defiantly reached out by now."

"One, secrecy. Don't want every Joe knowing demons are still running around. And two, the U.S. Constitution has a separation of Church and State because the Vatican was a bit zealous with their hunts back in the day." The bottle that James was drinking was half empty now. "Anyway, I get the call, argue that it's not my damn problem and I have my own hands full. They didn't like that, so I marched my happy ass down to Jericho city."

"I get to the place, and like everything in the city, it's gaudy and impractical. Priests there were nice, didn't help a lick though. The situation devolved to where the official put a restraining order on them for harassment." James crossed his arms and looked to the ceiling. "Not that I blame him. They were an annoying bunch."

"Alright, alright, we get it." Dante groaned in pain. "You're a priest, get to the part where you meet my dad."

He clicked his tongue. "The youth don't appreciate a good story. Fine, I met you father when I found him beating the mayor of Jericho City to death behind a bar."

"That…" Dante wanted to say something but couldn't put it into words. "That makes no sense."

"Something like that would have at least made national news." Lady chimed in. "You're lying."

"You see, this is why you need to listen and not rush things. You miss important details." James sighed and took another drink. "If you didn't interrupt me, you'd know that I'd be investigating a string of deaths beforehand. It was like following a trail of breadcrumbs except each little morsel was another dead body of bureaucracy." He closed his eyes and breathed.

"Every one of them showed signs of possession beforehand, their bodies turning into something… unholy." A haunting look crossed his features. "The news wasn't covering any of it. Resignations, firings, but little to no coverage. Eventually Mayor Hornden contacted me, accusing me of murdering them."

"Did you?" Dante asked.

"No… I never got the chance." James abandoned his mug and grabbed the neck of the bottle. "Some choice words were said. I remember yelling at him over the phone in the basement of the church, the priests avoiding me like some kind of leper. It was their fault I was even in this mess." Another drink. "Took a bit to talk him down, but we eventually agreed to meet downtown to talk. Why he chose some seedy bar is beyond me."

"I think the name was Deserts or something of the like. I was about to walk when I heard someone getting mugged in a back alley. Wasn't uncommon for that part of town, and to be honest, if it wasn't for being a man of the cloth, I might've turned a blind eye." James grew quiet, staring at the table. "His shadows… weren't right." He started, trying to remember. "He looked like a man, but that was just clothing to him, something to wear to blend in."

"There was this moment I approached them, between the sounds of beating flesh and splattering blood, where I caught a glimpse of something else. He may have been in a polo and slacks, stained red from what he was doing to the mayor, but there was this glimpse, this trick in the dim light." James squinted at the table. "He had horns that curved downward like a goat, his skin black and red like charred flesh, and a cape or wings of a beetle. And his eyes…" James looked at Dante.

"They were gold. Gold like a halo on an angel." He stopped there and just stared at him. "One cast down and scorched by the Earth… I thought he was the Devil." Heavy silence filled the air, then it was gone. "Fear kept my feet rooted to the ground as he continued to beat this man to death. All I could do was watch. Then, by some miracle, I gathered up the courage to shout at him." James rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It was probably something pathetic now that I think about it."

"Your father dropped him and finally noticed me, stared right into my soul. The mayor was dead by this point and from the smell, I could tell he wasn't human anymore."

"You said humans were turning into demons?" Lady asked, looking intently at James. "There've been only a few known cases."

"Outside the church, maybe." He drawled. "But demons have been possessing people since the dark ages. When the veil is thin and they can't pass through, they offer bargains of power, by either blood, sacrifice, or anything else they can take. The weak ones are like parasites, feeding off their host and morphing them into something else. If they're stronger and if there's enough strife, then they can freely pass through."

"It takes a strong force of will and words of virtue to expel a demon, but those who take the bargain usually lack both. Usually." The old man's eyes shifted to her. "Some are able to cast the demon out by themselves, but that's even more rare. Sometimes it's better to kill the host and not prolong their suffering, but we're getting off topic."

"I don't know how much time passed, could've been hours or seconds, but eventually asked your father who he was. As you can imagine, the name Sparda rang a few bells, and I couldn't quite believe it. It was an old tale from the inception of the Vatican, focusing on the value of redemption. Hell, there was even a cult somewhere about him. I asked him why he killed the mayor." A small chuckle escaped him. "He said it was because they raised his property taxes of all things."

"Taxes?" Dante didn't believe it. "My old man beat a demon to death over taxes?"

"That was one of the reasons, at least the one he was the most vocal about. After that we talked, drank afterwards, and tried to figure out where to go from there. Turns out, I was following his path of carnage up to the mayor. He tried doing things the legal way, but once he found out demons were involved, he decided to clean house." James tried to drink but found the bottle empty. He held it upside down only for a drop to land on the table.

"Damn. Either way, I knew I couldn't kill him and after finding out he held no ill will towards humanity, I called it a day. I gave him my card if he needed anything, and I was surprised he took it. What was even more surprising was the media blackout. The whole damn thing was swept under the rug while they focused on some scandal going on in Washington. I reported my findings to the Church the next day, and needless to say, they were not happy."

"Why not?" Lady asked the question they were both thinking. "The problem was solved."

"Solved, but we didn't know why there possessing government officials." James clicked his tongue. "That and they didn't believe that Sparda existed and thought I royally fucked something up and was trying to save my own ass. Long story short, after the priests at church in Jericho City told them I was yelling at the mayor and accuse me of heresy, the Vatican recalled me and held a counsel. They excommunicated me in all but name over the incident and barred me from ever becoming more than a priest."

"But they let you stay here?" Dante knew the Vatican could be petty.

"Out of sight, out of mind." James shrugged. "They don't want me asking questions and I don't get tasked with stupid missions that common sense could fix. I am happy I was able to keep the church though. Gave me the opportunity to officiate your parents wedding."

"That's the only part in this story that makes any sort of sense." The phone on the wall started ringing.

"Why yes, after I got the boot-" Lady and Dante groaned, wanting the story to end.

"Do all priests talk this much?" She muttered. Rachael answered the call.

"It's in the job description." James said. "Talking is what we do. You should hear some of the gossip in Vatican City. Puts everything else to shame. Anyway, after I got the boot, your father gave me a call, said he needed some ordained expertise for something he was working on. Turns out, your mother-"

"Hun." Rachael, bless her heart, got James to shut up. "It's for you."

"Alright, alright." James got up and walked over like he didn't just drink a bottle of rum.

Dante let his head rest on the table and mentally went over everything important. James met his dad, found out who he was after brutalizing a bunch of demons, then probably worked a few jobs with him. From what it sounds like, he didn't know that Vergil was alive. At least not yet. He looked over at Lady, who was rubbing her eyes. "Die of boredom yet?"

"I've had briefs that bordered on psychological warfare, this is nothing." She pushed her empty plate away. "I'm just surprised he wasn't preaching."

"He only does that when he holds a service." Rachael commented, sitting in her husband's seat. "I'm not overly religious and I think he appreciates that. Gives him a break from his duties."

"Huh." Lady sounded surprised by that.

"Lady, was it?" Rachael asked, a sly glint in her eye,

"Mary." Lady crossed her arms.

"Hm, alright. Dante told us about how you two met, and I must say, you are a very forward young lady." Oh, this was going to be good.

"Whatever he told you is a lie." Her response was quick.

"He said you ripped his shirt off?" The question hung in the air, Lady's eyes growing fractionally wider. "I understand that he has grown up to be a handsome boy-" It was Dante's turn to feel embarrassed. "but then he told me you convinced him to come with you for a top-secret mission for the government. How'd you do that?" Dante might have bent the truth a little bit, but it was worth it making Lady flustered right now.

"What can I say?" He chimed in, wanting to make her squirm. "I like fast women, and she is pretty damn quick."

"Dante!"

"Oh. My God." Lady buried her face in her arms. "Kill me now."

"You should've seen her. Had me running on the rooftops just to keep up."

"Mary, I didn't know!"

"Just a bullet." Lady pleaded. "Back of the skull, just do it."

"You have to tell me what you saw in him to be so forward." Rachael scooted closer to her. "Come on, what did you see?"

"Preferably now."

"Hey kid." James interrupted their fun. "Got a guy who needs a job done." He tossed Dante the keys to his truck. "Grab your things and some clothes, we're meeting him in an hour." The priest looked over to Lady who was praying for salvation. "The girl can come too, see how she performs."

"Finally!" Dante nearly leapt out his chair, while Lady muttered something in thanks. It would be good to stretch their legs a bit. "Who is it?"

"Some tycoon is demolishing an old hospital and wants to put up an apartment complex. Says he's having trouble and needs some paranormal expertise."

"Of course." Dante was on his way back to his room to find some clothes. Lady followed, eager to get away from the embarrassing interrogation. "I've never met a demonic nurse before, you think they're hot?"

Lady swiped the back of his head. "Don't you even think about it." She stopped at the doorway. "Wait a minute, I'm not going out in pajamas."

"Don't worry dear!" Rachael appeared behind her like an unwanted specter. "I'm sure I have something in my closet that'll fit you. Come, come now!" Dante had the pleasure of watching Lady get dragged off to some personal hell of hers, arguing the whole way. She looked back at him, her eyes nearly begging for help.

He gave a two-finger salute and wished her luck. Her response was just a single finger.

This was going to be fun.

Overtime is the bane of my existence. We'll see how well I can stick to updating. Until next time. 

There's so much smoke here from Canada. You'd think they'd run out of trees at this point.

Getting Along

Dante never thought he'd wear a Hawaiian shirt again.

It was hard to look intimidating when the first thing people saw was a bright pink flower with a beach behind it. But desperate times called for desperate measures since his old clothes were presumably destroyed. Even his fucking coat which cost him a pretty penny. He was spared from having to wear shorts though, which was a small mercy. His style could only be butchered so much before he'd kill himself out of shame. He looked over to see Lady walking beside him.

At least he wasn't the only one suffering.

"Of all the God damn clothes they had…" She was grumbling ever since she put on the dress. Not a flashy dress that would turn heads, mind you, but an honest to God modest dress. Even had a blue pattern and everything. The only thing that ruined the image of homely woman was a leather jacket she found, a case that could house an oversized cello on her back, and a scowl on her face.

"You mean God blessed." Dante quipped, adjusting the guitar case on his shoulder. "Now you can look proper lady." Her frown deepened.

"Eat shit and die tourist."

"Alas, she was cursed with a foul mouth and bad temper, chasing away gentlemen and sailors alike." She kicked his shin. It was a mercy her shoes were flats and completely harmless. "Her footwear as sharp as her tongue, making lesser men bleed." James snorted as he walked in front of them. "Oh, to what cursed this creature with fair skin and malevolent soul?" Lady balled her fist in rage.

And swung downward.

Dante did not squeak, but he did crumple to the ground in pain, face hitting the pavement. "… My Dantes…"

"Anything to say about that?" Her shadow was cast over him like a spiteful god.

"You are… Such a bitch." Dante peered up to see her offering a hand. He begrudgingly took it.

"Stop being a dick then." Lady hauled him up then pushed him towards the familiar diner. "Come on, walk it off."

Stumbling towards the entrance, he followed James to their destination. The guy was willing to meet them in town, which was awfully nice. Either he's considerate or desperate and Dante was betting on the latter. Hopefully they'd get some free drinks out of it or something. He looked up to the sign to see the old Drive-Pie sign still there, corny as it was. Lot of late-night memories here. It was a comfort to know that some things never change.

The décor inside was just how he remembered it, newspapers and posters on the wall, red and black bar seats, booths that squeaked a bit when you moved, stained wooden floors that always seemed to be waxed, and the smell….

God, what he'd give to have that smell follow him around every day. Just something about greasy food, ice cream, and just hint a of something he could only describe as nostalgia made the world right again.

"Dude." Lady bumped out of his daydream, staring at him. "Earth to Dante."

"God, I missed this place." He said, strolling up to the bar counter with James. A tall man wearing a black apron welcomed him. "You wouldn't believe the type of food they have here."

"Isn't it just diner food?" She leaned on the bartop next to him, eyeing the menu.

"Yes, but the best kind."

"How's it going Paul?" James asked, shaking the man's hand. Weathered eyes crinkled as he smiled.

"Not too shabby, Father. A bit slow this morning, but I'm sure you're not here for the food." Paul attention turned to him and Lady. "It's good to see you Tony, it's been a while." The cook's eyes said more than his words. "Who's your friend?"

"Tony?" Lady quietly asked, glancing to Dante.

"Her name's Lady." He said instead, "She's a friend of mine on vacation." To her credit, Lady knew when to shut up and play along, merely nodding her head.

"Getting the band back together?" Paul asked, turning to James.

"In a sense." James adjusted his own guitar case hanging off his shoulder. He'd forgone the priest outfit and was in street clothes, the only thing identifying him as a member of the cloth was the priest's collar around his neck. "Got notified of a gig and figured I should bring the boy along, y'know? Make sure he's not rusty."

Bullshit, you just needed a sober cab.

"Ha! I know what you mean." Paul leaned in. "Some of these kids don't understand the meaning of hard work, they get sloppy and complacent after a few years." He motioned his head towards a door at the far end of the dinner. "Your guy's waiting in the reserved area. Said he'd cover whatever you ordered."

"That's mighty nice of him."

Dante immediately ordered a strawberry sundae.

James led them through the door into the back room. Inside was a private jukebox, a huge corner booth with a well-dressed dude chilling inside, and a stack of foldable tables in the corner. Most of the place was open, on account of this being a meeting more than a bachelorette party. Though, he wouldn't mind joining one later down the line. Parties like those were always fun.

"You must be Father Redgrave." The man in the booth stood up and offered his hand. Average height, slicked back brown hair, a goatee, and a fake smile. Not to mention the faint smell of expensive cologne that emanated from him. Sleaze balls were nothing new in the world, but it was rare to see one that had actual money. "Harold Raymond, owner of R properties."

"James Redgrave." The old man took his hand. "Priest." Dante noticed Harold flex his grip, attempting to crush James' hand. The priest smiled.

He didn't even flinch.

The tycoon's face went from one of smug confidence to confusion when he realized he wasn't budging. It turned to masked pain when the old man gave a squeeze of his own. "Quite a grip you got there." James commented. "You work out?"

"Five days a week." He let go of James and flexed his hand. He turned to him and Lady. "Who are they?"

"My adoptive son, Tony, and his associate, Lady." The bastards' gaze brushed right past him and landed on her.

"Lady huh?" Dante could see his eyes visibly undress her. "You are definitely one fine Lady." Dante could feel the barely restrained wrath radiating from her. There was about to be a murder if the guy didn't wise up soon. That and Dante would probably end up burying the body.

"Hell no." She growled out.

"Oh, I love it when they're feisty."

"Thanks for covering the tab." Dante stepped in, setting his case next to the wall and carefully guiding Lady into the booth. "Prison food just doesn't cut it, you know?" Lady's aura of murder didn't go away, but she was a lot less threatening sitting down. "Might have to get one of everything." He sat himself between her and the client, hoping the guy didn't press her buttons.

"Not a problem." He flashed a wide smile, showing off a gold-plated tooth among his teeth. "The priest came highly recommended when it comes to… Unnatural complications." The tycoon motioned for James to sit, his eyes constantly straying back to Lady.

Fuck, this was going to be a long meeting.

The place was a dump.

Construction trailers were scattered around the entrance of Hope and Mercy's New Beginnings. Overgrown plants threatened to overtake the large buildings gothic architecture, and if she was being honest, Lady would've preferred if they renovated it instead of tearing the whole building down. There was no doubt in her mind that that greasy perv was going to build some gaudy monstrosity that didn't have an ounce of soul but as they say, money talks.

She was starting to wonder how much humans had in common with demons.

It was probably a lot since Dante was the spawn of one.

"What the hell is this?" Said devil spawn had his arms wide, looking at the building scheduled for demolition. "He never said the building looked like this!"

"He did say it was old." Mary commented.

"But he said it was hideous, an eye sore even!" He kept gesturing to the building and the demolition supplies surrounding it. "Not something left to be wasted away. Just look at the detail! Someone poured their heart and soul into this. And it was just left here… to rot."

"That gonna stop you from doing the job?" She smirked.

"No, but I'm still going to bitch about it." He dropped his arms, looking at her. "I thought you were going to rip that guy's head off back there."

"He would've deserved it." She crossed her arms, turning her gaze back to the building. His leering was so blatant it made her skin crawl. Ninja would often tell her to use her looks to her advantage, but what demons would that work on? Her eyes slid to Dante who was talking to the priest about something. Maybe they would work on him, but she'd already burned that bridge.

At least his eyes would feel nearly as uninvited.

She walked over, not one to be left out of the loop.

"…Thinking 1st floor and basement?" James said looking at the windows. "The girl and I can take the 2nd and 3rd floors and clean up the rest. I wouldn't be surprised if this place was crawling with demons. The veil feels thin here."

"Yeah, it's giving off a hell of a vibe." Dante dropped his case and unzipped it. "You're right about the main show being underground." He pulled out Rebellion and hefted it on his shoulder. "Where's your shotgun old man?"

"Dinner Bell is in the truck and talking about your father reminded me of something." He reached into his coat and pulled out two heavily modified M1911 handguns. One with ivory accents, the other with black. "Keepsakes from your father. Said he used them in a war before they were damaged beyond use. Took a pretty penny and a favor to fix them up." Mary noticed writing on their frames.

'For Tony Redgrave'

From his father, huh? Right.

Dante let out low whistle. "Damn those look nice. Can't say I'm not jealous." Mary would say the same. Right now, her gear consisted of two M9's, Kalina Ann with no ammo, an M4 with a couple of magazines, and an old K-bar Knife from Ninja. Not to mention her ruined uniform made it difficult to even hold her loadout. When in doubt, belts will do, even if she did look ridiculous. At least the dress was breathable. She looked down at herself, seeing the tactical gear clashing with her floral attire.

On second thought, fuck the dress.

Mary started ripping a slit down it for better movement and to actually get her equipment in place. Silence queued her in that something was wrong. She looked up to see both of the guys staring at her. "What?"

"That was one of my wife's favorite dresses." James muttered.

"I'll buy her a new one." She had plenty money just sitting in her account. For some reason that perked the priest right up.

"Oh, she'll love that." Him and Dante shared a look and Mary had the distinct feeling she made a mistake. Dante smirked at her and started sauntering up to the building in that ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. Her and James followed behind, the priest content on letting Dante take the lead.

"Knock, Knock!" The idiot kicked open the old wooden double doors, swing them open with a loud crash. The sound echoed through the building as debris fell from the ceiling, kicking up a plume of dust. "Anybody home!?" He didn't even slow down, walking into the dust cloud and disappearing. "Care to talk about our Lord and savior Jesus Christ!?"

"For fucks sake." She muttered, entering the building with the priest. "Is he going to do this all day?"

"WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR CAR'S EXTENDED WARRANTY!" Mary heard him echoing through the broken tile corridors. The place was definitely run down with parts of it already cleared for demolition. Moth eaten clothing, abandoned medical equipment, rotted floors. She swore there was a pipe dripping somewhere. At least daylight fluttered through the broken windows, making it easier to see.

"MARCO!"

"He's always enjoyed making a show." James said, peering into one of the doors that lined the halls. One massive corridor went across the building with a central stairwell to go between floors a bit farther from the entrance. Doors of iron left open like suppressed traumas waiting to be remembered. Inside was a prison cell with a rotted mattress, no windows, no hope, just a patient alone in a room.

God, this place gave her the creeps.

"YOU"RE SUPPOSED TO SAY POLO!" A loud crash followed.

"Ugh." She leaned away and looked down the halls. Dante was kicking debris around, making as much noise as possible. "Mary, why do you do this to yourself?"

"Because you knew it was the right thing to do." The priest answered, gently closing the door. He muttered a prayer under his breath.

"I wasn't talking to you." Mary began moving towards the stairs. Her M4 only had a red dot and a flashlight, but it would be enough for this place. Taking the steps one at a time, she readied her weapon and advanced up the stairs.

"But you still needed to hear it." And like that, the priest was already starting to get on her nerves. "Most people already know what the right thing to do is, but that's usually not enough." She heard his footsteps behind her as they climbed the stairs. "People need reasons, assurances, and usually something to get in return." She felt his eyes on the back of her head. "It takes a certain kind of strength to do it without all of that."

"Is that why you raised him to be a demon hunter?" Mary stopped at the second floor, turning around to glare down at him. "An old priest taking advantage of a little boy because it's hard? Make him your own personal attack dog?" She always hated priests, spouting hypocritical rhetoric to people dumb enough to listen, taking advantage of the desperate for their own ends. "What a fucking Joke."

"That would be one way to look at it." He sighed, walking past her. They could still hear Dante causing mayhem downstairs. "But there wasn't much choice in the decision. When you find a boy in the wreckage of a fire, scared out of his mind, there wasn't much time for considerations. Tell me, what do you think would happen if I didn't raise Dante this way?" James looked down both hallways, stepping over debris that littered the floors. Something caught his attention.

Why was he asking her that?

"Do you think his life would be peaceful if I did?" One of the handguns was slowly pulled out from his coat. "Would he be somewhere else, doing something else other than this? What do you think Mary?" She stepped behind him and hugged the far wall, training her rifle down the hallway to see what he was seeing. The partially opened doors made for good cover.

"I think his cocky attitude would've gotten him killed." He would've been an even worse arrogant prick. His speed, strength, stamina, were far above human. No matter what upbringing he had he would be trouble. But would he have a peaceful life if he wasn't in this line of work? "Maybe no, but you could have at least tried."

The priest chuckled at the notion. "Maybe." Mary watched him move silently through the corridor, steps silent as the grave. "Dante has his father's blood running through his veins though. Demons already took his mother and brother, it was only a matter of time before they'd find him too. At least this way he'd know what to face and how to fight. How to survive." His gun was pointed at an open door. "How to save others."

He slowly pulled the iron door open, the hinges creaking from neglect over the years. Inside was a burnt corpse, huddled in the corner of the cell. The center of the floor had a smudged black ring of symbols or letters. It was hard to tell. There wasn't a smell either, which was weird. Burnt flesh had a habit of lingering in places it shouldn't be. The priest began inspecting the circle, rubbing the edges and feeling the marks.

"Interesting." He looked up at the corpse. "Who did you call?"

"I thought summoning circles weren't real." Mary said, putting her back into the doorframe. She didn't want anything sneaking up on them.

"Symbols hold power." He said, tracing the circle. "You drive your car and see a red octagon, what do you do? You stop." James stood up, dusting himself off. "You don't even need to see the letters and you know what to do. Same thing applies to the cross, a sword, or even a flag. You don't have to understand the specifics if you know what the intent is behind them. The more accurate though, the more effective it can be."

"Sounds like a load of bullshit." Mary kept an eye on the open doors. Something felt off. "Demons come through rifts, and where those rifts spawn are random at best." But not anymore. Baines now had that White Rabbit device. Hell was now being invaded by America. What a time to be alive.

"Nothing is random." He shot back with absolute certainty in his voice. "You just haven't found the meaning behind them yet." His head tilted to the side. "And this was meant to bring something from the other side." Mary watched him go over and kneel in front of the corpse. "Only someone desperate enough could do this." He set the gun down and rested a hand on the dead's shoulder. "Lord, grant this soul the chance of redemption, and may his sins be forgiven if asked. May your rest be more peaceful than your life."

Mary scoffed and looked away. Forgiving the dead didn't change anything. If they did have a soul, it would be somewhere else, far away from where they'd hear some backwoods priest. It was probably more convent lip service to sell the bit, Baines was the same way when trying to convince command the legitimacy of his 'Crusade'. She even wished there was noise so that Mary could drown out the man praying in Latin.

Wait a minute…

"Priest." She whispered with urgency. The halls seemed to stretch into darkness, natural light growing dim and disappearing into twilight. She turned on her flashlight.

"I know." He stood up, brandishing his weapons. "I was wondering how long it would take for Dante to kick the hornets' nest." Sounds of scraping and rapid patterning came echoing down the halls. A hysterical laugh floated through, bouncing off the walls and trying to worm their way into her skull. James stepped out into the corridor and Mary thought she saw some of the darkness shy away from him.

It must've been a trick of the light.

She stared down the hallways as the demon emerged. It was a horrible thing, a twisted parody of a patient in a straight jacket, their face twisted upside down and muzzled. Legs too long and arms too short, the thing staggered while off-key giggles emanated from it.

"CaN YOu hEaR ThEm?" It kneeled, violently swinging it's face back and forth on the floor.

"Who?" James asked.

Mary opened fire, her bullets putting angry holes through the demon. It reared its head back and let out an anguished scream. The walls reverberating it ten-fold, drowning out everything else. She stumbled to one knee and couldn't hear anything anymore, her ears numb. Liquid, hot and wet, dripped down her neck as she held down the trigger. The Mad demon stood up despite all the damage, shambling towards them. There were too many holes for it to stay up right.

Mary's gun clicked empty.

Training kicked in, dropping the magazine and reloading. Something wrathful tore through the demon's torso, destroying both its bound arms. It looked down and cocked its head in confusion. The muzzled face exploded into a mess of black gore and bone, falling to the ground. Mary looked over to see the priest still standing with his handgun pointed at the demon. His ears were bleeding, the blood dripping down his neck and staining his collar.

He looked at her and said something. All she heard was ringing but she could read his lips. 'Get up, more are coming.' Mary nodded, loading in a fresh magazine. More figures were emerging, each one a parody of an asylum patient. Twitching, deranged women with claws for hands, bloated manchildren that waddled with sunken eyes, orderlies that had bulging muscles with crude clubs and needles. James nudged her shoulder to look back.

They were coming from the other end of the hallway too.

Mary put her back to the priest's and started firing. Thankfully a few shots to the head were enough to put them down, she was still trying to figure out how to deal with the more agile ones, but she'll cross that bridge when she gets to it. She could feel James shooting as well from the recoil in his back, those hand cannons of his could probably take them out. Mary gritted her teeth and focused.

Dante better not be fucking around right now.

"Girls, Girls!" Dante parried a lunging nurse's needle to the side while kicking another one away. The only reason he knew they were nurses was the little hats on their heads with the red cross on it. Sure, they looked vaguely female too with their dirty nun uniforms and grey skin, but that's where it ended. "Calm down, there's enough of me for everyone."

"I WANT TO SEE HIS INSIDES!" The 'doctor' from the back commanded his army of nurses. During his little 'walk' Dante stumbled into an abandoned operating room before everything went all wobbly. One of those rifts tore open above and darkness enveloped the room, spitting out demons. It didn't help they all looked like they came out of some B-tier horror movie. Then this loser appeared from the darkness.

"TAKE HIM!" The overgrown demon in a doctor's coat spat from his operating table. Flood lights above him illuminated the large room and gallery, as well as the rift in the ceiling. He never understood why people would watch operations, but apparently it was a past time here. "YOUR FLUIDS MUST BE MEASURED!" It spat out behind a leather mask, leaning over the table. Wings of surgical instruments emerged from it's back, rusted with blood.

Green eyes of madness locked onto Dante and with it, a moment of clarity.

"…You will make for a great test subject."

"Why does everyone want to cut me open?" He dodged away from a scalpel and swatted away a handsy nurse. "I get it, I got demon blood, but so does everyone else here." Two demons tried to grab him, only for one to be impaled and turning his sword as a makeshift hammer. She screamed as he pivoted and swung the demon into the other, crashing into a bloody tangle of limbs. He followed through the swing, adding to the momentum.

With superhuman speed and strength, you too can turn into a human sized Beyblade. And what do Beyblades do when surrounded by demonic nuns? That's right, they become a blender that makes demon puree. Screams of the damned followed as they wailed and cursed through the carnage. He would've kept going if a wing of metal didn't stop him. Rebellion crashed against it, sending shockwaves up Dante's arms and nearly throwing him off balance.

He stepped back and raised his sword on instinct, a bone saw crashing into Rebellion, the teeth grinding against the sword and spitting out sparks. Dante had a split second to brace himself when the other rusted wing crashed into his side, hurling him into the wall. There was pain and he was definitely bleeding, he could feel the hot blood going down his side. That, and this bastard just ruined his shirt.

At least there were less nuns now. Something from the side of demon clicked, and an old record player near him started to move.

"Dr. Frakenwagner, Log #156, capture of Subject 89 for trials." The demon droned, talking to himself. Dante grabbed an attacking nun by the neck, spun on his heel, and threw her at the doctor. A giant pair of sharpened forceps caught her, discarding the demon like garbage. "Subject presents exceptional strength and endurance, perhaps a quirk in genetics? More tests needed for conclusive data."

"How about you conclude deez nuts!" He'd already been through that song and dance, and he'd be damned if he let it happen again. Dodging another swipe from a nun, he cut her down and punted her body at the doctor.

"Subject 89 presents sub-human IQ and combat experience, likely from poor life decisions. Manipulation tactics recommended for capture and coercion." Metal wings unfurled and beat, picking up the demon with gust of wind and throwing the body back at Dante. Behind the demon's coat was a pattern of stiches all across the body, holding together burnt skin. The demon's wings continued to flap, sending it higher in the air.

"Oh, fuck you, you medical freak!" He dug his sword into the ground as the wind turned into a gale, picking everything up and throwing it around the large room. Any demons that were left were tossed and bludgeoned or stabbed to death by either hitting the walls or being skewered by loose medical equipment. Dante was no different. He had to shield his eyes with one hand and hold onto Rebellion with the other while he was turned into a living pin cushion.

Pain was something he was used too at this point, and his natural healing helped, but this couldn't go on. Peering up from his arm, he saw the winged demon looking down on him with a smug smile. "GIVE UP!" It roared over the wind. "YOUR BONES WILL BE MY INSTRUMENTS AND YOUR SKIN MY OWN!"

"Nah!" It was time to bring this demonic bastard back down to Earth. Dante stomped his feet into the ground, keeping himself in place. Pulling his sword out, he reared back and took aim, the wind whipping at his hair and debris tearing at his skin. "Eat this, Freddy Krueger!" His muscles tensed and released as he launched his sword. The demon's eyes widened and dipped, Rebellion moving faster than he thought possible. His blade sailed true, clipping one of the doctor's wings and tearing off a sizeable chunk in an explosion of metal and black blood.

An angry scream ripped through the doctor as he plummeted, crashing into the ground. Dante tore his feet from the floor, sprinting at the demon. He summoned his new Devil Arms and jumped, launching himself into the air. "And from the top rope!" Dr. Whats-his-nuts pushed himself off the ground with a pained groan and looked up, only to see Dante falling towards him. His undamaged wing rose to shield him as he braced beneath it.

Dante's fist slammed into the wing, bending it inward. The doctor shoved him off and swung his bone saw, trying to cut him in half. Dante grabbed it with his other hand, stopping it with ease. He crushed it, breaking the blade and shattering the metal. The demon flinched back, fear in its eyes. Dante's foot slammed down on the doctor's, keeping him in place. A pair of forceps were thrust at his face, Dante tracking the movements in slow motion.

He dipped his head to the side, the surgical instrument moving harmlessly past. A devastating uppercut was delivered to the demon's torso, lifting it off the ground. Armored fingers curling around it's collar, Dante throwing him over his shoulder and slamming him back down to earth. His fist followed, smashing into the demon's face. And again. And again. Dante didn't know how long he pummeled the demon with blows, but by the time he stopped, he was breathing heavily and covered in black gore.

The doctor's face was ruined beyond recognition, nothing more than a bloody smear. Sitting on the ground next to the corpse, it was no wonder the rich jerk reached out. Something like this would be hard to put down by human standards. Dante was sure James could've handled it, but he wouldn't be in one piece. The old man was still human despite everything and past his prime. He didn't know what he'd do if he died because he wasn't there to help.

Fuck, that's depressing. Think about something else.

The doctor's coat caught his eye. Despite all the abuse it went through, it still looked in great condition, if a little dirty. He pulled it off the corpse and flapped it in the air, trying to get some of the demon bits off. Trying it on, he found it to be his size, if not a bit long. Too bad it was dull white, smelled like chemicals, and stained with blood, otherwise it would've been perfect. Maybe Rae could do something with it, she's always liked that stuff. Then he remembered.

"Where the hell is my sword?"

He looked up, seeing Rebellion imbedded into the ceiling next to the open rift. Oh, yeah. He should probably do something about that. Question was, how the hell was he going to get up there? The answer came to him a moment later when he figured out he could just jump up there. His aim was a bit off, nearly overshooting the rift and grabbing onto the handle of his sword to save his clumsy ass. Now came the hard part. Usually, he didn't deal with rifts and James always recited Latin hymns after a job to make sure no more demons came through.

Dante, though, had a different idea other than monologuing a dimensional tear to death. Flipping himself upside down, he smashed his feet through the ceiling to make an anchor for himself. Facing the rift, he opened his arms. "Here goes nothing." He 'grabbed' the edges of the rift and pulled. Now, Dante knew he was strong, he lifted cars for working out back in the day, but this was completely new.

It felt like trying to close a sliding door you couldn't quite grip. He strained, arms bulging from the exertion. Crushing stone with his bare hands would've been easier. Doubt began to creep into his mind that this idea wouldn't work. Then, ever slowly, he felt something start to give. The gap started to close, bit by bit. Dante gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. Sweat began dripping up his back, getting into his nose and eyes.

He pressed on, screwing his eyes shut and willing the damn thing to close already. At some point, his hands touched, and he opened his sweat rimmed eyes to see a long cut in reality shimmering in the air. The damn thing was closed, but still there. Any demon worth its salt could just pry the thing back open. "For fucks sake man." He couldn't leave it like this, and he was out of ideas. There had to be something he could use to seal the rift closed.

His dad's sword could probably do it, but Uncle Sam took the damn thing and shipped it off somewhere. Same with his necklace too. Tracking those down would have to be a priority. And as much as he hated hit, he couldn't stay here forever. Vergil needed to be found and dragged back home. Wherever home was was still up in the air, but those were issues for future Dante. Current Dante was getting angry at a violation of physics and all he wanted to do was smack it.

He looked to the side, his sword lodged into the roof and shrugged. "Why not?" It wasn't like the thing could get any worse. Prying Rebellion out, he watched some the loose ceiling fall upwards to toward the ground. Dante hefted the thing and swung the sword across the rift, not expecting a wall of resistance to stop the blade in its tracks. The sudden stop loosened the part holding his feet while he watched the rift shimmer and vibrate.

"Huh." Burning ozone filled his nostrils, the line slowly dissipating into nothing once more. "Would you look at that." After a moment, it was just him holding onto to Rebellion in the air and nothing else. He took a moment to examine the blade if anything changed. Nothing, it was still the old sword he always had. Dante didn't even know it could do that. James said it was from his father so it made a bit of sense it could mend reality. Still weird. Wonder what else it could do.

Something on his feet moved and a sense of weightless washed over him as his view started to shift. Looking up, he saw the ground rapidly approaching.

"Aw shit." Dante's face hit the ground first followed by the rest of his body, breaking his fall and saving the rest of it from harm. "Ow." He laid there, contemplating life for a moment and how sore his back was now. Pushing himself up, he thanked God no one was there to see him. Actually, that might be an issue now that he thought about it.

Might as well check on Lady and the old man.

Black blood oozed against her shirt, the knife in her hand sinking deeper into the bloated demon's neck. It clawed at her on its back, stumbling against the wall before finally sinking to its knees. Mary ripped the blade out, a shower of black blood coming from the open wound. She kicked off the back of its head, slamming the demon's skull into the ground and giving her some space. Her hand went to her holstered pistol and immediately began reloading it.

There were only a few of them left.

"Forgive us lord, for we have sinned." Mary looked over to see the priest brawling with an orderly. At some point when her hearing came back, she started hearing the religious mantra. For a second she thought she might be really fucked in the head from that demon's scream. Thankfully it was just James going on like he was in some battle trance. He put away the pistols when he couldn't reload a bit ago and pulled out brass knuckles of all things.

"May our trespasses be forgiven." The priest ducked underneath a club aimed for his head and returned the favor, his fist smashing into the orderly's face. A burning cross was stamped onto the demon's skin and muscle, making it recoil and shriek. James advanced on it, following up with a brutal gut punch, taking the breath out of its lungs. "May your mercy give us strength." Another blow to the head caved in the demon's skull.

Movement from the corner of her eye made Mary flinch back, something sharp slicing her cheek. A demonic patient with long hair stared at her through the bangs, a giant pair of scissors embedded in the wall where her head was. "And may our faith grant us courage." She aimed and pulled the trigger, her shots bouncing off the hair like an iron curtain. The patient howled and lunged at her, Mary's knife barely coming up in time to deflect the shears.

"Though I walk a path shrouded in darkness." She backpedaled and kept to defense, firing off shots at any opening she could find. The demon jumped back suddenly, opened up the giant scissors, and began to charge Mary. "Your light gives us guidance." Taking a half-second to aim, she blew out the demon's knee with a bullet, making it stagger and fall to the floor. Mary stepped on the scissors and kicked them away. The demon looked up at her as she brought down the knife.

"And through that, may we find our faith." She pulled out the knife and checked what was left. Among the demon corpses and blown out section of the hallway from her spent grenade, there was only James and one last demon. It looked to be some mix of a puppet and man, the lower jaw and parts of its body seemingly stitched together. "And through our faith, may we find peace." The priest blocked a blow, grabbing the offending arm and ripping it off.

It let out a gurgling scream and reeled back before attacking again, blood spewing from its ruined stump. James stepped back from a clumsy strike, brought his fist back, and countered. Teeth flew from the stitched jaw, the wretched thing crumpling to the floor. It twitched and tried to crawl away. Sighing, James put his boot on the demons back and pulled out one of the handguns. The barrel was pointed at the back of the demon's head, garbled words coming from its mangled mouth.

"Pwu- Pwe-"

"Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned."

The priest pulled the trigger, sending the demon's brains and pleas across the hallway. Mary watched as he put his weapons away and clasped his hands together. Was this man seriously praying right now? "Are you… Praying?"

"Yes." He said, not looking at her. James was sporting a few injuries himself; a nasty gash was on display on his upper back.

"Why?" Was it like an offering to God in some sick twisted way?

"Everyone deserves a chance at redemption." He answered, letting his hands fall and turning towards her. The beginning of a black eye was starting to from on the left side of his face. "Even demons. Wickedness can come from pain inflicted on the soul or within it. If there is any goodness left, then they will at least try to find the Lord's light."

"And what of demons who haven't harmed anyone?" She asked, reminded of the family that sheltered her. "What if they're just trapped in Hell and trying to find a way out?" Hope, guilt, and something else stirred in heart. Mary needed an answer. "What if they're innocent?" Like a child born into a cruel world. The priest, to his credit, didn't immediately shut down the idea. He pondered the though for a bit before he answered.

"Those don't sound like demons to me." He said, staring at the windows. "Then again, demons lie. They exist to spread their corruption by any means necessary. But if what you say is true…" Darkness had receded, light was beginning to shine through. "Mary, what do you think a demon is?" He asked, not turning away from the glow.

What is a demon? Mary… hadn't really thought of that before. Her eyes drifted to the corpses around her and thought about what she was taught. "Evil creatures from Hell, right?"

"You're half right." James said, pulling something out of his pocket. "The first demons were angels that fell from Heaven during Lucifer's rebellion. They roamed the Earth for a time, taking their revenge on humanity, corrupting it. Sparda, and this is from what I gathered from my time with him, was one of those angels that fell during that time. At some point, he had a change of heart and separated the two planes, creating Hell and saving the Earth."

"What does that have to do with anything?" There was no way Sparda was an angel.

"I'm getting to that." He unwrapped a pack of cigarettes, taking one out and putting it in his mouth. "Afterwards, humanity did it's thing for a bit, but the seeds of evil were already planted. Lust, Greed, Envy, Sloth, Pride, Wrath, Gluttony, people still sinned, turning away from God and making a Hell of their own. The man upstairs got mad, took his wrath out on a city or two, and flooded the Earth to try and wipe the slate clean again."

He lit the cigarette and breathed deeply, a weariness starting to show. "That didn't work, so he sent his son down and tried a different approach. And still, after being nailed to the cross and enduring pain I can only imagine, he forgave us, and he chose to love us. Past all that evil, all of the indifference and apathy, he still saw good in us. Even at the abuse of what can only be described as demons." The priest leaned against the wall and folded his hands, looking out the window.

"What I'm trying to say Mary, is that demons don't come from a place, they come from within. Every man, woman, and child is capable of great kindness and great cruelty. Demons are born from choosing the later time and time again. It's only convenient that most of them are from Hell, where God doesn't reside. I'm sure you've met people who're eviler than the demons you hunt yet still face no repercussions for their actions. As for demons that are innocent and stuck in Hell?"

The back of his rested against the wall as he looked to the ceiling. "Those don't sound like demons at all. They just sound like people stuck in a Godless place that need to be saved." His eyes looked down at the corpses around them. "If I were trapped in a place like that full of these things, I'd want to leave too, before it corrupts everything I know and love." Green eyes came back to Mary, looking at her soul. "Does that answer your question?"

"That…" Does it? Demons were always black and white in the past. They come from Hell, and they're evil, that was it. Now everything just seemed so grey now. "I don't know. Things were simpler before."

"Ha." James smiled in understanding. "I get it. Take some time to think on it, there's no rush." He pushed himself off the wall with a groan. "In the meantime, we should probably get back home. Lord knows I need some rest before collecting our money." Mary nearly forgot about the fucking tycoon and getting their pay. She was used to running a mission and getting debriefed afterwards. Cleanup crews would be dispatched and that would be the end of her involvement.

"Yeah." Mary saw part of her M4 sticking out from underneath a body. Before she could get it though, James outstretched something to her. A cigarette was sticking out of the pack in hand.

"Smoke?"

Dante felt like he missed something.

Outside were Lady and the old man smoking. James was leaned against the truck, writing in that old journal of his, while Lady sat in the truck bed with all their gear, staring at the building. Both of them battered, bruised, and covered in gore. And for some reason, he just couldn't stop looking at Lady. The way the light caught her tired mismatched eyes and relaxed posture just entranced him. It was like looking at a war weary Valkyrie after a battle. She noticed him staring after a few seconds.

"What?" There was no bite to her words. "Wanna fight or something?"

"Nah." He smirked, throwing Rebellion in the back of the truck. "Just wondering what's got you so zoned out." Dante propped himself up next to the side of the truck. "The old man give one of his spiels again?"

"Something like that." She said, flicking some of the ash away. Her eyes roamed his body from head to toe.

"See something you like?" He taunted with a wink.

"What's with the stupid coat?" Lady asked instead.

"Took it off some dead doctor." Dante stretched next to her. "Bastard wrecked my shirt, and I took that personally."

"Whatever you say, Tony." She put her cigarette out on the coat's arm, adding another black smudge to the endless stains. "It's leather?"

"Don't call me Tony." Wiped off the remaining ash from the coat. "It feels weird. That name was the old man's idea, not mine."

"I needed to give you a legal name when I found you kid." James said from the other side of the truck. "Dante wasn't on any records, and I didn't want any demons tracking you down, you know the story."

"Could have at least named me David or Devon." Something closer to his actual name would've been nice.

"Nope. Saint Anthony is the patron saint of lost items, and if that's not what you do, then my name ain't James."

Dante and Lady's eyes immediately went to the coat he 'claimed' from the doctor as if to prove the old man's point. A barely suppressed snicker escaped her, her hand covering her mouth, eyes alight with amusement. He glared at her. "Don't you start."

"Aw, but Tony," Her patronizing voice irritated him to no end. "What if little Jimmy fell down a well? Who else is going to find him?" Dante groaned in mental anguish. "Who else but you, Tony?"

"I hate you. So much."

Maybe he'd drop her down a well and see how much she'd liked it.

Dante ignored Lady's jeers and hopped in next to her, refusing to meet her eyes. James silently got in the driver's seat and started up the truck, the rumble of the engine beginning to lull him to sleep. Lady shuffled next to him, getting comfortable for the drive. "You think there'll be any more?" She asked. "Demon's coming through here I mean."

"No." He said, trying to find a spot that didn't dig into his shoulder. The only place that worked was right next to her. "I closed the rift in the basement and killed everything else down there. After they demolish the place, odds are it won't open again. James told me that destroying the symbol and putting something new in its place usually wards against rifts from opening again. Something about not being able to return to what's not there."

"That's confusing." She stated.

"Ain't that the t- Ow, watch your fucking elbow." Her elbow was jabbed into his ribs as she shifted.

"Fuck you, get out of my space creeper." She elbowed him again and kicked his leg too.

"I'm trying to nap, you abrasive bitch!"

They bickered like that the whole drive home.

Hopefully with work winding down I'll be able to write more often, but we'll see. Life has a habit of throwing wrenches like a deranged monkey. Until next time.

Sorry it's been a hot minute. Overtime, Family events, smoking a deer with my car, school starting for the kids. My plate's full and I don't have a fork. But that's life sometimes.

You're Gonna go Far kid

"You're not as young as you used to be hun." Rachael said, needle and fishing line in hand.

"Owhm nohw." James muffled response came from the leather belt in his mouth. Mary watched her stitched the gash on the priest's tattooed back shut with practiced ease, realigning the words. Either she's had medical training, or she's done this countless times before. Not to mention all the minor cuts and bruises that littered his body. She was similarly beat up herself, but nothing major. The worst thing she had was scrapped knees.

Mary knew she had forgotten something important.

She hissed in pain from the antiseptic on the cotton ball wiping against her knee. Dressing wounds came early in training, right before knowing how to kill someone. Strange sense of irony in that. Fortunately, they had an abundant number of medical supplies, ranging from band-aids to surgical tools. She would've been concerned if it wasn't for their line of work. Meanwhile Dante had his feet up on the couch, passed out from what she could tell.

Lazy bastard, even if he did do the heavy lifting.

"How much are you getting paid?" Rachael asked, dressing the wound. "Couldn't have been cheap if they needed you to clear out a hospital."

"Asylum." James said, taking out the belt and dropping in on the table. "And the payment was 30 grand. Pennies when compared to lawsuits."

"Oh, that's not bad." Finishing her work, she came over to Mary and began looking over her wounds. She tried to wave her away, but it was a fruitless endeavor.

"He probably thought we'd get ourselves killed and solve his problem." Mary groused as Rachael fussed over her. "We should've haggled him for more, the guy had no idea what he was paying for."

"I am nothing but a fair man." Getting off the table, the priest shrugged his shoulders, getting used to the wound. "And if reputation matters as much as I think it does to him, he shouldn't have a problem paying us tomorrow when we go to collect."

"He better not, I'll wring his fucking neck."

"Language." Rachael chastised.

"M'sorry." She mumbled, averting her eyes.

"You won't be coming." James said, grabbing a shirt.

"What? Why?" Mary tried to stand up but was shoved back into her seat by Rachael.

"I distinctly remember you saying you'd by my wife a new dress." He mused. "After you ripped the one, she gave you, I might add."

Ah.

She did say that didn't she?

The remnants of said dress were in the garbage at this point after she cleaned herself off of all the grime.

"You didn't tell me we were going right out on a hunt!" She shot back.

"Oh, don't worry dear." Mary noticed that Rachael's mouth was smiling, but her eyes weren't. "James has a habit of leaving important details out." She heard James audibly gulp, exiting the room while his wife was distracted. "While him and Dante get the money and spend the day catching up, we'll go out and have a girl's day of our own! Doesn't that sound exciting?" Cornered like an animal and stuck in a chair, Mary had a hard time finding an argument.

She looked over to Dante for help, only to find him magically gone from the couch. The bastard must've heard the conversation and ran while he could. He'll pay for that later.

"That…" Think Mary! You know what lies ahead. Sentry and Ninja would drag her out when she least expected it for gossip, spending their paycheck, or any other absurd reason they could find. "I'd have to go to the bank…" She started, trying to make it as inconvenient as possible. "Didn't really bring any money with me when I left." All she had was her Government I.D. in case they needed to identify her body and a few bucks for emergencies.

"Not a problem." Rachael, the mother of optimism and sunshine, didn't even seem fazed. "I have to stop there too for some business so it's perfect!" She backed off, done with her work. Mary looked down to see all of her wounds neatly bandaged and cleaned. "Plus, there's this old café that's ran by just the cutest old couple who come to our church. Some of the best muffins I've ever had. Then there's this nice thrift shop on Clover Street…"

Mary slumped in her chair, defeated. There was no escaping her fate. Rachael kept going on about things they'd do tomorrow, and where'd they go. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that the woman didn't have any friends.

Then again, she didn't either, so who was she to judge?

The door to the room burst open. "You little shit!"

Dante lifted his head from the pillow, seeing Lady both irritated and bandaged. "What I do?" He was almost asleep damnit.

"You left me with her!" There was little heat to her voice. "Alone! She wouldn't stop talking, going on and on about what we were going to do tomorrow. We Dante. All I said was that I'd buy her another dress, not go out for the whole day!"

"Should've read the fine print." He shrugged, letting his face hit the pillow. Rae torturing Lady just by being herself was a win-win in his book. Maybe she's stop badgering him about Lady too wh-

"Argh!" A heavy, Lady sized weight rudely settled on his back. "What the hell Lady?"

Said woman crossed her legs, sitting on top of him like a makeshift park bench. "Should've read the fine print for running away." She shifted more, her ass digging into his lower back. Great, now his back was sore again. "You make for an awful chair."

"Then get off."

"Nope. As commanding officer, this is your punishment for abandoning post."

"I didn't even join the army or whatever the hell Darkcom is." He groaned, trying to ignore her.

"You had the option." She said offhandedly.

"Ah, was that before or after the date rape drug? Memory is a bit fuzzy on that part." Dante felt a thumb jam into his spine.

"Definitely before." Lady said twisting the digit. "Otherwise, we wouldn't have had to use them."

"Sure you didn't." Fuck, that hurts. What was that, a pressure point? "Self-righteous bitch." He gritted out, tensing his muscles.

"Arrogant dick." She countered, having the final say. A silence followed, Dante hoping that ignoring her will make her get off. The pressure eased up after a moment, her thumb slowly moving around his spine. More fingers followed soon after, her hand drifting across the muscles on his back. He was irritated at how good it felt, but he wasn't one to turn down a free massage. Especially since it started to ease the tension in his back.

He was expecting another stab, then agonizing darkness, not this.

"We can't stay here Dante." Lady's voice was soft, her hand resting on his back, somehow comforting. He breathed a deep sigh, hating that she was right. They couldn't stay here no matter how much he wanted it.

"I know." There were things he needed to do. "Can't live here, it's too dangerous for them. Need to find a new pad."

"You are technically a fugitive." She added. "And I'm a deserter by all accounts." Her hand started to drift again. "Where were you thinking?"

"Jericho City." He said, trying not to enjoy her touch. Lady probably didn't even know what she was doing. "There's someone I know there who'd be willing to help."

"Old friend?"

"More like a contact." He grumbled. "Bastard is a hell of an information broker, always knows something about anything. Doesn't help that I've got a debt to him I gotta pay off." Wasn't his fault that every job he sent Dante's way ended up being a clusterfuck. "Then there's getting Mom's necklace back." It was the last thing he had to remember her by.

"That's easier said than done." Lady paused to think. "Darkcom has upwards of sixty bases across the States, even more internationally. Then there's the security on top of that."

"Don't care, I'm getting it back. Vergil's too while I'm at it." A pang of regret shot through him. "Then I'm going to drag his ass back home, whether he likes it or not."

"You don't know that he'll come willingly." Lady warned. "The White Rabbit had his blood and amulet, you know that."

"The sadistic bastard could've taken it… Ambushed him maybe." It was plausible. "Whatever the case, he's family, and the only one I got left." A quiet laugh escaped him the more he thought about it.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, you know. Mom's dead, Dad's gone, and my brother is somewhere in Hell. It feels like a bad joke." And he was the punchline. God always did have a sick sense of humor.

"True." Lady swatted his head for some unknowable offense. "So funny I forgot to fucking laugh."

"Don't worry I got plenty of material, shows are from six till nine, seven days a week."

"Count me out." Lady's weight left him, his back finally free of the burden. "I'd rather sleep than sit through that." From the corner of his eye, he watched Lady walk away to her own bed. She was wearing an oversized hoodie with those green athletic shorts that showed off her legs. Toned, bandaged legs that he knew would make other women jealous. He could tell a lot of hard training went into them, and by God did they show off the results.

"You just have bad taste." He said instead, dragging his gaze upwards.

It was met with Lady's knowing glare. "Creep." She definitely saw him staring. Oh well, in for a penny…

"Stop being easy on the eyes then." He shot back, meeting her head on. Her mismatched eyes widened in surprise, followed by a blush of embarrassment. They held each other's gaze, neither one willing to back down.

"Idiot." She turned away first, getting into bed.

"Ha." Dante chuckled to himself. "Score one for Dante."

"Fuck off."

The shades added a dull yellow tint to the world, easing the strain the sun had on her eyes. People walked the streets of this small town, shopping, socializing, doing things people should do on a beautiful day like this. She continued to watch them as the car drove down the road to the bank, a deep sense of unease and guilt roiling within her gut.

Mary didn't deserve to be a part of this. She didn't belong here.

It all felt fundamentally surreal, like it was someone else's dream that she shouldn't be in. Mary was a soldier, a hunter, an orphan, and more recently, a deserter. Places like this didn't need her and secretly, she was thankful Dante had a plan to leave. Her views of the world were ripping at the seams, blood running down in streaks and staining what she thought was certain. And all the while he made it look easy.

Mary hated being with him, but she couldn't leave. Dante was a walking apocalypse by birthright, leaving someone like that alone was inviting disaster. No matter how weird she felt or how… vulnerable she started to feel. She's had crushes before and they never last, just a reaction to being around someone long enough. All she had to do was wait it out and not do anything stupid.

"We're here!" Rachael's voice cut through her thoughts like a dull hammer. They were in the parking lot of U.S. Bank, one of the many that spanned the country. This one blended in well with the town, the building old and rustic. The inside was much of the same, old-style décor clashed with corporate logos. The company can dress itself up however it wants, but that feeling of soullessness will never go away.

"I'll be right back, just need to talk to the mortgage guy. You know how they are." Rachael assured her, walking towards one of the tellers. No Rachael, Mary didn't know how they are because she's never owned a house. Probably never will at this rate. Dismissing the thought, Mary walked up to one of the available tellers, and silently cursed Rachael for having her wear another dress. Would it kill her to have at least a pair of jeans?

"Hello, welcome to US. Bank, how may I help you?" The teller had that customer service voice that grated against her ears.

"Just need to make a withdrawal." She fished out her I.D. from one of her pockets, (For God's sake, did she sow these pockets into the dress?) and put it on the counter next to the teller's computer.

"One moment please." The teller said, taking it. Mary waited, eyes drifting around the place, noting exits, avenues of approach, best vantage points. So far, the best she could come up with was upturning one of the heavy oak tables and using that as cover. As for breaking into the bank, maybe holding a teller hostage? Nah, she would be outnumbered. Then again, that would depend on how much cash they kept on location.

"Thank you." The teller slid her I.D. back. "How much would you like to withdrawal?"

Mary spotted Rachael talking to one of the bankers at his desk and weighed her options. "How about $2,000?" They'd need some money for the road, plus she didn't know this woman's spending habits.

"Of course, let me just get my manager to approve the transaction." Mary saw this coming but there was little she could do. Getting a card would take too much time and track their location. Sure, this was risky as well, but this at least minimized the footprint. Wonders of living in the modern age, you couldn't escape the government no matter what you did. Though, none of this mattered if Baines put out a warrant for arrest on her.

She'll just have to see how this plays out.

"Thank you for your patience." The teller came back, holding a bank envelope full of cash. "It is strange to make two big withdrawals within such a short time, but I was assured it was for charity."

"Two transactions?" Mary took the envelope and counted the cash. Yeah, it was all there, hundred-dollar bills no less.

"Mhm, your donation to The Salvation Army was quite generous. Not many people would do that you know."

"Right." A feeling of dread started dripping down her spine. "Can I see my balance statement real quick?"

"Sure!" Typing on her keyboard, she printed off a few pieces of paper and handed them to Mary. Quickly she scanned through the documents, most of them were paychecks from Darkcom with little expenses here and there. Then at the bottom, was her balance and the most recent transfers.

$92,776 to the Salvation Army in bold red. There was a note, thanking her for her generous donation, courtesy of William Baines.

The paper crumpled in her grip, her hands shaking in rage as nearly all of her life's savings were taken from her. The bastard probably took her retirement too, just to add insult to injury. In situations as dire as this, there was only one thing she could do.

"THAT LOWLIFE MOTHER FUC-"

"I'm surprised at how quick you were able to get the job done." Raymond said, sliding over the payment. They were in the back room of Paul's diner, plates of empty food before them. "I was expecting it to take a week at most, not a single day."

"We're good at what we do." James replied, counting the cash. Dante, kept his eyes on Raymond.

"So, I was told. Tell me…" The tycoon leaned forward with a glint in his eye. "Do you work with the Government?"

Dante snorted in amusement. "Not a chance in Hell, dude."

"Are you sure?" Raymond took another drink from his glass. "A few days ago, the president announces that demons are real and that we're invading Hell. Next thing I know, I'm dealing with a demonic infestation at one of my sites. Seems like a real coincidence to me. One might even say planned."

"That's ridiculous." Dante scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "We've been doing this for years before Uncle Sam stuck his nose in our line of work."

"Doesn't mean they weren't doing it in secret." Raymond replied, setting his cup down. "If I were a betting man, and I am, I'd put my money on this whole thing being orchestrated by some top-secret agency for profit. America needs a new conflict to keep the money rolling in, and who in their right mind would say that we shouldn't fight demons?"

It was remarkable how close, yet off the mark this guy was about the situation.

"I mean, come on!" The sleazeball said, wiping his mouth. "The more you think about it, the more sense it makes."

"I can assure you, Raymond, that we are not part of a secret government program." James said, satisfied with the payment.

"Whatever you say priest." He stood up, straightening his suit jacket. "It's a shame that spitfire couldn't join us. She was quite the hot piece of ass. Is she single?" Something possessive roiled in Dante's chest.

"No." The words slipped out of Dante's mouth before he could stop them. "Married to the job and all that."

"Really now?" The sleazed ball tried to eye him down. "Shame, I would've loved to have a go at her." He looked away when Dante wouldn't budge. "Tell her to call me if she ever wants to ride the Harold Express." He said over his shoulder, leaving the room. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Dante had to restrain himself not to snap at the man. It was lucky he wasn't holding anything, or else he might've broken it.

"Married to the job, eh?" James chuckled from beside him. "That's a new one."

"I'm not wrong." Lady was career oriented, that was a fact. Her main goals in life consisted of killing demons and working or Darkcom. Both of those included icing Dante at some point. Now though? It was hard to say. "Lady would rather hunt demons than go on dates. Or whatever she does in her free time."

"She is focused, I'll give her that." James put a stack of cash in front of Dante. "Your half, don't spend it all in one place."

"I don't need it." He replied instantly, shoving it back towards James. "You need it more than I do."

"Like hell you do." The priest pushed it back, his tone sharp. "I know you're leaving soon; you've got that look in your eye." Dante didn't respond, merely looking away ashamed. "Had that same look when you ran away years ago. I may be old, but I ain't senile Dante." There was a tense silence before Dante spoke again.

"Why didn't you tell me dad was a demon?" He asked instead.

"What does that have to do with anything?" James sighed.

"Just answer the question."

"You…" The priest stopped himself and took a breath. "It's complicated."

"Then make it simple." Dante felt his anger slipping. He was tired of being jerked around by everyone. "Because it seems like everyone and their mother knew Sparda was my old man except for me. Why?"

"Because you weren't ready for that burden." James leaned back in his seat. "There was never a good time to tell you."

"Oh, that's the reason?" Dante got up from his seat, needing to move or he'd snap. "What about after mom died, huh? What about when you took me on my first gig, didn't you think to tell me then? Or what about that time I was impaled by a piece of rebar and all you told me to do was to just 'pull it out'? What about then?"

"It was better for you to think that you were gifted rather than a son of a demon." James defended. "We hunted them, Dante. They cause suffering and strife wherever they go. I… I didn't want you hating yourself."

"Yeah." Dante scoffed at the thought. "Fat lot of good that did." He had self-loathing to spare; his demon heritage just added the cherry on top.

"Dante…"

"Did you know Vergil was alive too?" He asked, pacing back and forth. "Leave that tidbit out because 'I wasn't ready'?" James head sharply turned towards him, his eyes alight with concern.

"Vergil's alive?" He asked, his voice laced with hope and regret. Dante stopped in his tracks at the sound.

"Yeah." Guilt pulled at his chest. He knew the answer now.

"Fuck." James ran his hand through his hair. "I… I thought he was dead… Or worse." A mirthless chuckle escaped his lips. "God does have a sick sense of humor."

"Yeah." Dante agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You could say that."

"Is he alright?"

"No idea." He shrugged, leaning against the wall next to the juke box. "All I know is that the White Rabbit recently got ahold of some of his blood. Somewhere in Hell is my guess."

"That… That's something at least."

"It'll have to be. That place sucks. Literally. It's hard to breathe there to begin with." Holding his breath while fighting sucked. "And the locals are rude too. But if anyone could survive there, it would be him. All the more reason to bring him back."

"I understand." James got up from his seat. "I'd go after him if I could, but something tells me you'd stop me before I got out the door."

"What can I say old man?" He smirked, getting off the wall. "You'd just be dead weight."

"Watch it, boy." He took a playful swipe at Dante's head, his hand missing him by millimeters as he danced back. "Calling me deadweight is just insulting." James shoved a wad of cash into Dante's chest. "Take it."

"I-"

"I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth aren't 'thank you', I will find a way to beat some sense into you." The priest stared into Dante's eyes, knowing there wasn't really a choice. Grabbing the money, he stuffed it in his pocket.

He'd need all the help he could get.

"Thanks." He mumbled.

"Good. Now come on, I'm curious to see how the girls are doing."

"Thinking they're at each other's throats yet?"

"Well…" James replied sheepishly. "It couldn't be that bad."

"I hope you're right." They walked out into the sun, Dante shielding his eyes. He could feel Fall coming in the air and wondered how long it would take for Rachael to refit the jacket he brought home. Staining the thing red shouldn't be hard. "We're going to Jericho City." He said, following James down the street.

"Jericho City, eh?... That's not so far."

"… fucker has no business being a self-proclaimed 'catholic' while pulling shit like this. Damnit, I wish that bastard died on that plane!"

"Why didn't he?" Rachael asked, amused and sitting across from her.

"Because of FUCKING DANTE!" Mary slammed her hands on the table, shaking their food and nearly spilling them over their bags. The luggage was from the thrift store Rachael took them to after her outburst from the bank, embarrassing as that was. Losing more money on new clothes, essential items, and things she now didn't have infuriated her further, and with it, she found herself doing something she hadn't done in a long time.

Mary bitched.

Bitched about losing most of her life savings, bitched about how much bullshit she had to put up with at Darkcom. Bitched about her bullshit assignment and how everything was circling the drain. Bitched about losing her team to demons and the White Rabbit. Bitched about everything in her life was starting to unravel at the seams and she couldn't control it anymore.

She even bitched about Dante and how he turned everything she knew on its head.

"That bastard just…" Mary couldn't put her opinion of him into words. Instead, she strangled the air in front of her. "Argh!"

"I see." Rachael nodded sagely, understanding. "Men can be headaches at times."

"More like a whole fucking migraine." They were getting stares from the rest of the restaurant, but she didn't care. Outside on the sidewalk, she could talk as loud as she wanted. "Suicidal, stupid, self-sacrificing migraine. It'd be easier to hate him if wasn't so… him."

"Trying to keep things professional?" She asked innocently. Mary's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know." Rachael waved it off like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Trying to keep a handle on a guy that rushes in to fix things without thinking can be exhausting. Especially if he thinks that he has to be the one to do it, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's hard not to build attachments to someone like that, because you know they're doing good. And you can't help but admire them from time to time." A wistful smile appeared on her face. "They wouldn't be who they are otherwise."

"That's part of it." Mary conceded, thinking about it. He didn't care about the finer details, or planning in advance. Just what he could do right then and now. "But Dante is a literal, walking, talking apocalypse." Mary explained. "His blood can end the world in the wrong hands." Literally. "Every attempt to contain him has failed and it's only a matter of time before either Baines come looking for him or another freaky demon tries to end the world again. Not to mention he's stronger, faster, and more durable than anyone else on the planet. How the hell do you manage that?"

Racheal shrugged her shoulders. "No idea, maybe just do what's natural? You seem like a stubborn bitch, so I'm sure you won't have problem keeping Dante grounded."

"Ex-fucking-scuse you?" Did she just call her a bitch?

"Oh, honey, it's a complement." She assured her. "Strong men need strong women in their lives to reign them in when they go off the deep end."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." Rachael dodged the question again, her eyes catching onto something behind Mary. "Over here Hun!" She yelled out, waving her arms. Mary turned around to see Dante and James walking towards them.

"I was wondering where you girls were at." The priest walked past her, leaning down to kiss Rachael in her seat. "We couldn't find you at the store."

"Sup." Dante stood next to Mary, hands in his pockets. "How much money you spend?"

"Don't even fucking start." She glared at him, ignoring the chatter between James and Rachael.

"Woah." Dante put one of his hands up and reached into his pocket. "Easy, just a question." He pulled out a roll of cash and tossed it to her. "Our cut of the job." Mary caught the roll in the air. "All 15k of it. What's got your panties in a twist?"

"I got $11,000 left in my account." She pouted, examining the cash. And here Dante was, throwing her more money than she had after working with Darkcom. It was irritatingly him.

"Damn." He whistled. "That's more than I've ever had."

"It used to be over 100k."

"Shit, never mind." Dante walked around and sat in the empty chair next to her. "Did you blow it all on this stuff?" He nudged one of the bags with his foot.

"No." Her sarcasm was thick. "It turns out I donated damn near everything to the Salvation Army out of the kindness of my own heart."

"You're such a saint." He chuckled. "Should get you a sticker for something like that. Maybe even a hat."

"Shut up." She took half of the roll and tossed it back to him. "Baines was the one to do it without telling me."

"How awfully dickish of him." He caught it without looking. "And what the fuck Lady? I earned that scratch."

"Your debt, since you're the reason my life savings and career were gutted." She shot back.

"You came with me of your own free will." He defended.

"And leave you unsupervised? Hell no." Before Dante could give a smartass remark, Mary dug into one of the bags and threw a bundled piece of red clothing at him. "Try it on."

"What the?" He flapped it open, revealing a faded red trench coat. Old, and definitely worn, the zipper missing, it didn't take a genius to figure out how it ended up at a thrift store. She watched Dante's eyes light up and immediately started taking off his hoodie. Mary's eyes darted down to his briefly exposed stomach, wandering across his abs and subtle 'V' in his waist before it was gone again. She narrowed her eyes in irritation.

Traitorous thoughts floated through her mind before they were brutally executed.

"Damn Lady, I didn't know you were cool like that." He stretched his arms, testing it. "And here I was thinking you had no sense of style."

"Rachael told me how you 'graciously' asked her to fix up that coat you found." Dante winced.

"I said if she could spare the time."

"Sure." Mary deadpanned. "Not like we're leaving anytime soon, right?"

"Uh…" He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Oh my god, I knew it'd look good on you!" Rachael gushed, interrupting them. "Mary said you'd wear anything retro while she went off on that business she used to work for." She dragged James over and fished out a camera. "Come on, we need to get a picture!"

"Wha-" Mary was dragged up from her seat by Rachael and shoved into Dante's side. The priest and his wife stood next to Dante, Rachael holding out her phone for a selfie.

"Smile!" Mary felt Dante's arm wrap around her waist, strong but unsure. She grabbed it out of instinct to keep it from moving. She was met with an apologetic smile when Mary looked up to glare at him, amusement and a healthy dose of fear dancing in his eyes. She would've called him out on it if it weren't for the sound of a camera shutter going off. Rachael looked at the picture and started gushing over it.

It was the four of them huddled together, James and Rachael looking at the camera while her and Dante were having a staring competition. To Mary's irritation, she saw herself blushing in the picture.

Mary told Dante to fuck off when he teased her about it.

"Do you have to leave so soon?" Rachael was standing by James as Lady and Dante loaded their stolen car. Either by chance or the person was dead, it seemed like no one filed the vehicle stolen yet. Hopefully it stays that way until they get a new car. Maybe a jeep. Or a Camero. Mustang would be cool. "You just got here."

"Sorry, Rae." Dante didn't want to leave. "Got places to be, people to annoy, demons to kill. Can't do that staying here." It was too dangerous to be around them.

"You better call then." She hugged him, threatening to squeeze the life out of his ribs. "I don't want to wait another three years to hear from you."

"Oof." It felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. "Guilt trip much?"

"As long as it works." Just like her to have no remorse.

"I'll do my best." He promised.

"Good." She let go of him and started cornering Lady. "Come here deary, let me give you a hug!"

"What is with you guys and nicknames!?" Lady tried using the car as a barrier, but her fate was inevitable. Rae always got her way.

"It's good to see them getting along." James said from beside him, watching the free entertainment.

"I think Rae just enjoys torturing someone else for a change."

"Sure she does." James reached into his coat and pulled out the pistols he used in the asylum. "Here."

"You can't be serious." He gingerly took them from James, their weight heavier than expected. He never gave much thought firearms in his line of work, they'd always break before he got enough mileage out of them to be useful. At times, he was forced to buy in bulk from dealers just to be sure he had something.

"I am. You'll need them more than I will." Dante twirled the guns in his hands, getting a feel for them. Bit on the longer side, but nothing he couldn't handle. Iron sights, and the grip felt custom, if not durable. The ivory and ebony designs they sported gave it a nice style of duality. Maybe that's what he'll call them.

Ebony and Ivory.

"Are you sure?" He asked, stashing the guns in his coat. He needed to get a vest holster at this rate.

"They were always meant for you anyway." The priest shrugged. "I just wanted to try them out to see if Goldstien's work was as good as they say it is."

"Is it?"

James smiled at him. "Oh yeah, better than I could've imagined."

"Never change old man." Their hug was brief, what else was there to say?

"Let's go!" Lady yelled from the car, taking refuge in the passenger seat.

"You heard the Lady." The priest joked.

"Yeah, yeah." Dante got in the car, starting the engine.

"Make sure you call, or I'll hunt you down myself!" Rachael yelled from beside James.

"With threats like that, I'll have to." He yelled back. "See ya." Peeling out of the church's gravel parking lot, Dante could see the couple waving in the rearview mirror. It felt bittersweet, but he knew it was for the best.

"Eyes on the road." Lady said, looking out the window.

"Don't worry, I got reflexes like a cat." Dante fiddled with the radio dial until he found something pleasing to his ears.

Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park was always a banger.

Screams of the damn echoed through the massive halls, made from damned stone and bloody granite. Standards of long forgotten flags flapped in howling winds, armies of darkness marching under their banners. Demonic entities of old blood and new marched in rank and file, ready for their invasion. Everything according to his plan.

At least, that's what it should've been.

With a wave of his hand, the vision vanished. A thread that should've been strung never made it past Fate's hand. Instead, he was stuck with failure. His first mistake was trusting Lucifer in his rebellion, a foolhardy notion in hindsight, but a just one at the time. If it wasn't for Michael defecting and submitting to The Creator, things might've gone differently. But 'God' was God, his power absolute. Nothing could go against that but spite itself.

Lucifer paid dearly for that blunder, his body ripped to pieces, reforged into tools for his penance, his blood watering the first Qliphoth tree in Hell's soil.

How sweet that ripened fruit was…

The next failure was his own, betrayed by one of the first he thought he could trust. Sparda was powerful, driven, and most of all ruthless. How he could side with Man was something he still couldn't fathom. In that moment, he felt God's wrath as his own and swore revenge. He may have sealed him in this place, but there was more than one way to enforce his will.

The failure after that… Wasn't one he foresaw. To escape this cosmic cell, creative measures needed to be taken. Experiments were done and with it, he discovered something fascinating.

Human souls created rifts.

Get enough of them screaming in agony and whatever veil was created started to weaken. Blood was a tangible medium, their bones like lockpicks for the heavens. When he tried stuffing human souls into demons, the effect was amplified ten-fold. But the cost wasn't worth it. The demons became weak, erratic, emotional. Spouting nonsense like freedom and righteousness, an echo from the consumed souls most likely.

But from it the cell started to rust, the bars thinning ever so little. They could invade, or in their current thread, be invaded.

Leave it to Man to invade Hell.

He applauded the audacity. Worst of all, it wasn't misplaced either. They had weapons that could kill, tactics that were cunning, and warriors who laughed when faced with the horrors of this place.

There was an appeal to Man, he could admit that now.

Something that demons couldn't hope to have. Something that angels couldn't comprehend either, only 'The Creator' knew. His 'infinite' wisdom.

Such pride in that.

"My Lord." A figure that he dwarfed kneeled before his forgotten throne, skin as azure as the Earth's sky during Genesis. He laid his weapon down at his side. "You summoned me."

"Vergil." He rumbled, his voice an omen since the early days of creation. "I have a task for you."

"What is your command?"

"Disrupted them, the humans." Sparda's blood needed to be tainted. "Make them hurt. Make them confused. Observe them. Learn."

"It will be done, Lord Mundus." Breaking him into the perfect tool was time well spent. "What about those captured?"

"Their fate does not concern me." They were all failed experiments in his eyes, only useful to fodder in a war.

"Understood." Vergil collected his sword and walked out of the hall without ceremony or circumstance. Duty was in the forefront of his mind, something he was sure to engrave into his skull. The notion of failure absent in his being.

It was fortunate that the demon brought back the prodigal son instead of the failure.

He already had enough of those.

Hopefully next update won't be too long out. Until next time.

Hey, sorry for the wait. Life got a bit hectic and had to do some damage control. Also had to re-evaluate finances but that's a whole different story. The short of it is: I'm sleep deprived and the shadow demons keep clawing at my eyelids.

Chapter 8

"My fellow leaders, bearers of burdens, I humbly ask for your cooperation in these matters. We're assaulting the essence of evil and villainy, the stain upon creation itself… Is it that unreasonable to ask for the more capable of you to shoulder some of our responsibilities while we fight for the fate of humanity? Is it not our responsibility, nay, our obligation to protect our countrymen, our citizens, our children? From all the evils of the world? Men and women like us…"

Baines watched from the sidelines as the President Hopper wove his speech into the hearts of other world leaders. He had to suppress a yawn, the legwork leading up to this summit was exhausting. Press conference after press conference, question after stupid question from the media, both sides of the isle willing to tear them down for their insanity of this crusade. This was expected though, the public and press would naturally cry over such a thing.

Afterall, it was fear that motivated them.

Fear of what Hell being real meant for them. Fear of all of their actions in life staring them back in the face when they die. They could no longer sit on the fence and shrug their shoulders, saying they didn't know what happens after death. They must choose now. Choose to either accept Jesus Christ as their lord and savior or allow themselves to be damned with all the other false idols. People will be divided, but that's the point.

It will filter out those who lack faith.

And those who were left would have the zeal to face Hell itself.

"None of this can be true." A man said after the president's speech, standing up from his chair. It was the Supreme Leader of Iran, wrapped in clothes fit for a self-proclaimed king. "This must be a fabrication of lies constructed by the west, if not incomplete truths. My people know your warmongering ways, and this… 'notion' that you are launching a crusade into 'Hell' is an affront to the divine judgement of Allah. Sinners and infidels are meant to be punished, and it is not our place to interfere."

"Interfere by defending ourselves? I don't know how things are in your country, but mine is being attacked by Hell as we speak." Hopper's voice had that signature drawl he liked to use when he wanted to be relatable. "And I will not let innocent people die because of religious semantics. Demons are real, you all know that. Hell is real, that's where they come from. It's only natural we cut down evil at its source. Until then, no one is safe."

The summit slowly devolved from there, arguments breaking out over the moral and philosophical implications of invading Hell. All of it was just for show, they didn't care about what was right or wrong, at least not as passionately as everyone would've liked to believe. This was about power and who stood to gain the most. Hell was untapped land, full of resources and information that could put the U.S. decades ahead of other countries. Denouncing the U.S.'s was all part of an attempt to establish dominance, foolish as it was.

Playing this diplomatically was Hopper's idea, saying it would bolster the United States and his own image, rallying more developed nations to his side. Be that as it may, anyone who wanted to remain allies with the U.S. would've already made up their minds before coming here. There wasn't much point in this dog and pony show. If it were up to Baines, he would've declared everyone who wasn't on their side enemies of humanity and executed them right there.

Simple, effective, and a clear warning to everyone watching.

But we live in more civilized times, so this song and dance must go on.

Another yawned escaped him, eastern-European leaders were starting to openly align themselves with the United States interest. Good progress by all accounts. He checked his watch for the time.

Hopefully at this rate, he'll be back at the hotel for dinner.

"Get off the road asshole!" Mary yelled out the passenger window. Dumbass cut them off at the stop light and she wasn't going to let that slide.

"Chill dude." Dante said, dodging out of the way with inhuman reflexes and passing them. Mary looked to see an overweight woman driving the SUV and flipped her off. Bitch deserved worse.

"Nah, fuck'em. Dumbasses need to learn how to drive."

Dante snickered. "Whatever you say Lady."

Mary ignored him, looking out the window. They were in Jericho City proper now. Old brick buildings and gothic architecture surrounded modern skyscrapers. One minute you'd see a police precinct with aged walls and vines climbing the sides, and the next you'd see a newly constructed Starbucks right across from it. Worn houses mixed with new homes, trees guarding highways and roads, none of it made sense.

It was like two different worlds fighting for the same space.

Dante turned onto Three Kings Street, passing by a clinic that needed a few renovations and a pawn shop. Near the end of the road was another old building. More brick and concrete with stained glass windows passed by, which was a nice change of pace. Defiantly on the rougher side of town, the gothic architecture was trying desperately to be rustic while everything around it wasn't. They hit the end of the road soon enough.

Dante pulled into the parking lot of a rustic building, vines on the walls and covered stained windows. It looked like a house was rebuilt too many times, each time adding a new addition. Mary stepped out of the car and read the faded neon sign.

"Manger's Motel and Bar?" Mary read the sign above the entrance. "What kind of name is that?"

"A joke." Dante said, standing next to her. "At least that's what I think."

"Weird."

"You said it." He didn't elaborate any more than that. She followed him to the double oak doors and pushed one of them open with ease. If it wasn't for the hinges creaking, she would've thought they were fake. The lobby inside was old, like the building. Now that she thought about it, it seemed like the place was converted from a manor to a hotel. Decorative pieces lining the walls, old portraits, furnished chairs, tables and couches.

On one side of the lobby, there were another set of double doors and the other, a wooden reception desk with a dark woman with glasses sitting behind it. An old, grated elevator was imbedded in the wall across from them next to a set of stairs. The building didn't look that big from the outside. It must have lower levels.

Dante walked up to the receptionist, seemingly oblivious to his presence. "Yo, is Morrison in?"

"Name?" She didn't even look up, her eyes glued to something behind the desk. Mary mentally restrained herself from the blatant disrespect, crossing her arms instead.

"Legal or street?" Dante leaned against the counter, peering over to see what she was reading. "Damn, they make those?"

"Street." Bright brown eyes flicked to him at his comment. "And yeah, recent addition to the catalogue. Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't mind having one just for the novelty of it. And the name's Dante."

"I already ordered a few for our stock, there's bound to be a few amateurs willing to buy them." Mary joined him at the desk. She caught a glimpse of old yellow pages being turned. "Dante, Dante, Dante… Ah, here you are." She scribbled something down. "Good to have you back, will you be needing a room?"

"Please." Mary said, jumping at the chance to grab a bed after the few hours of driving through traffic. "How much is it a night?"

"There's a note here saying to 'put it under his tab' for all expenses." The woman said, directing her attention at Mary. "And what's your name?"

"Ma-" Mary stopped herself, realizing that they probably used street names for a reason. "Lady." She said, elbowing Dante's ribs to stop his snickering. "My name is Lady."

"How original." The receptionist's pen moved on the ledger. "What's your relation to Dante?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Standard business when dealing with new patrons. They need to be vetted." She rested her head in the palm of her hand and looked at Dante. "So, what is it pretty boy?"

"Lady's a friend." He said, leaning against the desk. "Mouth of a sailor and the personality of a bipolar cat, but she's solid."

"Fuck you too." Mary swore at him out of habit.

"See? Like a teddy bear wrapped in razor wire." She lightly smacked him upside the head for that comment. Idiot.

"Noted." The receptionist scribbled something down and pulled out a pair of keys from the desk. "Room 219, upstairs on the left." She tossed the keys to Mary. "Morrison should be in his office on the 3rd floor. Take the elevator."

"Sweet, thanks. When does the bar open? I could use some grub." Of course he would ask that.

"Bar opens at 6, so in an hour."

"Awesome… You think he's busy right now? Couldn't hurt to wait a bit…" Mary rolled her eyes and stashed the keys into her dress pocket. They had shit to do, and stalling because of a debt wasn't helping. Grabbing Dante by the collar, she began dragging him towards the elevator.

"Come on. The sooner we start getting jobs the better."

"But Lady…" He whined.

"Don't care. Get in." She shoved him in the elevator and followed. Before the doors closed, Mary locked eyes with the receptionist, a knowing look twinkling behind her glasses.

"Enjoy your stay."

The lacquered wood on the door felt absurdly solid when knocking on it, the sound echoing through the short hallway he and Lady were standing in. He'd rather be in the room napping but Lady was right unfortunately; the sooner they started getting jobs, the sooner they could start gathering money to find a place. Hopefully it won't be too expensive, gigs could be far and few between at times.

He'd be damned before he became a delivery boy again.

"Door's open." A gruff voice answered behind the door.

Turning the knob, Dante opened the door and stepped into the office. The walls were adorned with books, trinkets, idol, charms, just about anything you'd find in Morrison's hometown of New Orleans. Whatever the case, they must work because he instantly felt 'off' the moment he entered. A decorative wood desk sat in the middle of the office, on top of it, an old computer, and behind it, an even older man.

"Dante." Morrison greeted, drawing out his name like he was taking out a fish from the bayou. "It's good to see you again." His contact smiled, the man's dark features crinkling in pleasant surprise. He stood up, showing off the tailored suit he wore and offered his hand. "My condolences about Enzo. He was a good man despite his demeanor."

"I'm sure he'd laugh at that." Dante pulled out the rest of his cash and slapped it into his hand, shaking it. "Thanks though."

"I see you haven't forgotten your debt. Good to know I don't have to track you down."

"Figure I'd make it easy for you."

"How kind. Usually, people only come to me when they need something." Morrison said, his eyes shifting to Lady. "Or in Ms. Arkham's case, someone."

He could feel Lady tense up next to him. "What do you know?" She asked.

"I know that you and your federal friends have been roundin' up hunters on both sides of the Mississippi." He said, pocketing the money and sitting down in his chair. "I also know that after VP Baine's little stunt, damn near everyone and their mother are trying to get into the Devil Huntin' business. Because of you, I've got a backlog of jobs, a bunch of unhappy clients, and a dead fixer. So, with that, I gotta' ask." He took out a cigar from his desk, brought it to his mouth, and lit it.

Morrison took a deep drag and blew out a puff of smoke. "Whose side are you on, Arkham?"

"My side." She glared at him.

"I find that hard to believe, Ms. Arkham. Once a dog, always a dog. Doesn't matter if you trade your tags in for something else, your type always needs a leash."

"The fuck you just say?" Dante had to grab her arm to physically restrain her from attacking Morrison.

"Temper, temper, little lady. You're not going to get far in this line of work if that riles you up." He set the cigar down on an ash tray, the smoke rising to the ceiling. "But forgive me, I'm a bit annoyed at current events."

"Let go of me." Lady shrugged him off. "And for you fucking information, I don't work for Darkcom anymore. Jackass here took care of that." She jammed a thumb towards Dante.

"Not my fault." Dante crossed his arms, distinctly remembering her coming with him. "You can leave whenever you want."

"And leave you unsupervised? Hell no."

"Fine, but that's on you." Dante turned his attention to Morrison, deciding that he just needed to come out and say it. "We need information."

"That's what I do best baby."

"And…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "A new place to crash."

"Moving to my neck of the woods?" Morrison asked, suspicion lacing his words. "What trouble did you two walk into that Uncle Sam couldn't fix?"

"We're fugitives." Lady answered, at least looking partially guilty. "Like I said, I don't work for Darkcom anymore."

"At least you don't do anything halfway." Morrison judged Lady's statement behind calculating eyes. Picking up the cigar, he took another drag. "I'm no realtor, but I'm sure there's something I can find."

"And maybe a new car." Dante added, not meeting his eyes. There was something on the shelf that looked interesting.

"The one we have is…" Lady began uncomfortably. "Well, it's not considered stolen if no one reported it, right?"

Dante swore he could hear Morrison's blood pressure rising. Another deep inhale of flavored smoke, a deep sigh of coming exhaustion followed. "You two…" He began. "Are going to be my bitches until you work off every penny… Understand?"

"Yeah…"

"Fine."

The rum burned his throat going down, something he needed to distract his mind. Some swanky jazz music played in the bar, the soft lighting making it a soothing atmosphere. There weren't many other patrons, a fact that leant Morrison's words some credit. Lady did say something about the government hiring hunters as contractors in their hotel room. Makes a certain kind of sense if you think about it. Thing is that leaves a bit of a problem.

Who's protecting everyone back home?

Sure, The Church might still be handling things here and there, but this was a different matter. The average joe doesn't immediately go to religion when it comes to things that go bump in the night. They usually either handle it themselves, call the police, or find a professional. Two of those options are more likely to get you killed than not and finding the right guy for the job was harder altogether. Unless you know the right people of course.

And even then, it wasn't a guaranteed fix.

"Hey, barkeep. Another round if you'd please." Dante slid the glass over to the painfully average man behind the bar. Brown hair, fair skin, and the beginnings of a 5 O'clock shadow. He caught the glass without looking and filled it. Without a word he slid the glass back, and with it, his order of loaded fries. "Thanks." All that earned him was a tired grunt. Guess everyone had their own problems.

And Dante's problems kept piling up, just like his debt.

Nursing his rum, he realized it might be easier to just accept the fact that he'll always owe someone money. Forget retirement, Hell, forget having a normal life. He was going to be stuck paying off his debts till the day he died, however long that was. And since his pops was around since before Christ… Fuck, he was really screwed wasn't he?

Dante needed more rum.

"This is where you've been hiding?" He looked over to see Lady take the seat next to him, her clothes different from when they arrived. Jeans, a button-up shirt that he was almost certain was his, and that leather jacket she swiped from Rachael. "Place smells weird."

"Nice clothes." She didn't look half bad in them.

"I was getting tired of dresses." Without asking, Lady started eating his food.

"What happened to napping?" He pulled his food from her prying hands, swatting them away. "Get your own damn food."

"Couldn't sleep." Lady sounded disappointed, but he doubted it was about the lack of sleep. "Hey bartender, can I get what he's having? Put it on his tab too while you're at it."

"Pay for your own food."

"I'll pay for a shovel." A similar basket was slid over in front of Lady, along with a glass of rum. "You know, for that mountain of debt."

"With what money? Last I checked you lost it to the government." Dante was ready when she smacked his shoulder.

"Dick."

"Bitch."

Lady took a bite from her food and frowned. "This doesn't taste as good as yours…"

"Cry about it." Dante took another drink. "Hey, do you think I'm immortal?"

"One, fuck you." Lady downed her glass in one go. "And two, probably. How old was your dad again?"

"I'm positive that deadbeat rode a dinosaur."

"That means you just live fucking long." Lady paused after saying that. "Though you did eat a bomb to the face, and that was meant to kill you."

"Thanks for reminding me, that shit hurt."

"Your face was fucking mangled and yet your smug ass walked away without a scar." Lady grumbled and asked for another round. "Life ain't fucking fair."

"Preaching to choir here."

"I mean, there's probably some spoiled bitch getting her dream career somewhere, without a care in the world. No trauma, no real obstacles, nothing that a loving family that she was born into couldn't handle." Damn, Lady was venting. "Never had to do anything on her own, never had to struggle, never had to dig deep and figure it out. And here I am with no job, no money, and with the company equal to a homeless American reject."

"Hey!" Dante pointed a glass filled hand at her. "All American Rejects are sacred."

"They don't hold a candle to Black Veil Brides."

"That emo trash? I guess it makes sense. They do appeal to groupies with daddy issues."

"Fuck you." She smacked him again, lighter this time. "Wrong opinions aside, what I'm saying is while some bitch gets to live out her dream life, we're the ones that have to keep it that way. How the fuck is that fair?"

"Like you said, it's not." It was times like this he wished he could get buzzed easily. Dante waived the bartender for another round. "But what else are we going to do? Stop hunting and pick up a few shifts at a gas station? Better yet, why not join the army? They'll take anyone. Oh wait, we can't."

"It's bullshit." Lady slumped down onto the bar and played with her glass, cheeks flushed. It wouldn't surprise him if she was a lightweight. "What would you do if you didn't have to be a hunter?" Lady asked after a moment of inebriated silence. "Besides the whole son of a demon thing."

"Open up a diner." He said without hesitation. In between jobs, Dante had a lot of downtime, and it was usually filled with thinking about 'what ifs' more than anything else. "I'd call it 'Night Shift' and have it open throughout the night, closed during the day. Hot waitresses, good food, and the perfect atmosphere. It would be my own little slice of heaven."

"Sounds like you thought this out."

"Damn right I did. If you're going to have a dream, might as well plan it out." His body felt warm at least. He bumped Lady's shoulder. "What about you? Were you always destined to be a demon hunter or did you want to do something else?"

Lady didn't answer right away, playing with her empty glass. Lines of deep thought were etched into her features. "I think I would've liked painting."

"Painting, huh?" Wasn't his first guess, but she probably had different dreams before her life went to shit. "I could see that."

There were no dreams.

No nightmare, no thing chasing her, no hands clawing at her skin, just the blissful void keeping her warm. Even the headache she had was subdued by the rhythmic heartbeat underneath her.

Wait… Heartbeat?

Begrudgingly, she forced her eyes to crack open. There was little light, only a dull ray from the window curtains cutting through the darkness of the room. She dragged her heavy head up to see the sleeping form of Dante snoring away underneath her sprawled body. Thankfully they were both clothed, probably passing out after… drinking last night. Yeah, they were definitely drinking. And talking. Talking about nothing and everything.

Unfortunately, this bastard was way too comfortable for his own good. He was like a firm heating pad that smelled of… something spiced. Mary couldn't place it, but it reminded her of the church in back at Thronhill. It was calming, even welcoming if anything. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance, internally berating herself over letting this happen in the first place. Having her guard down like this only leads to fucking problems.

But this problem let her finally sleep…

She'd just have to take her chances.

Lowering her head back down, Mary let the warmth and steady heartbeat lull her back to sleep. If push came to shove, she was just going to play dumb about the whole thing. The last thing she needed was Dante thinking she was interested in him. Now, if only h-

An incessant ringing derailed her train of thought, startling both of them. Dante groaned in anguish, rolling over to try to find and stop the hellish noise. The warmth was torn out from under her, just like the promise of sleep. It irritated her to no end.

"Yo, dude." Dante grumbled into the phone. "Don't you know people are trying to sleep?... Oh hey Morrison, what's up?" Mary pushed herself off the bed and glared at him. "What do you mean it's 1230?... I'm not being lazy, I'm getting rest before you crack that whip of yours… Well you're laughing aren't you?... Alright, be there in a bit… Don't you dare." Dante hung up the phone and rubbed his face. "Good news is, Morrison's got a job for us," He turned to face her. "Bad news is… What's with the face?"

"Nothing." Like she would tell.

"Alright… Bad news is, he said that no one else wanted it."

"Of course not." Mary could feel her mood plummeting by the second, the headache rearing its ugly head. "Fucking fine."

"Yeah." He yawned. "Uh, Lady?"

"What?"

"What are you doing in my bed?"

"Fuck off." She got up, stretched, and grabbed what she needed for a shower. Complicated questions could wait.

"Jesus dude, what crawled up your ass?" Mary slammed the bathroom door shut, turning on the hot water, and contemplated killing him right then and there. The main issue was that she didn't have anything that could put him down. The other was that she knew she was acting like a bitch and was having a hard time wrestling control from that 'other' part of her brain. Apologizing might be the best course of action.

"Some women…" Dante's muffled voice somehow made it past the door and running water.

On second thought, maybe the bastard deserved all the attitude he got.

Despite the admittedly weird morning, Morrison was waiting for them in the lobby. Lady still had that attitude, but Dante had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't because of him. Or maybe it was. He couldn't tell.

Best try not to think about it, sometimes she was just a bitch.

Either way, Morrison gave them the lowdown on the job. It was an old music shop that closed down some time ago. The owner died recently, and their granddaughter wanted to sell off the property. Problem was, the place was in the older side of town. Winding roads, alleyways, no internet, the place was hard to sell in short. Lady brought the question of why we were involved and Morrison explained it in no uncertain terms.

The place was haunted.

Not shadows moving out of the corner of your eye and things falling off shelves haunted, but chronic night terrors and violent happenings haunted. No one wanted the place, and the granddaughter was desperate to get rid of the damn thing. Fortunately, she reached out to the right people and was able to get into contact with Morrison about her problem. Since then, it's been sitting on his desk along with the pile of backlogged jobs that still need to get done.

Problems for the future.

Details were hashed out, like refilling Lady's arsenal and how to get a new ride. Morrison told them to go to the pawn shop they passed on the way there; a sketchy place called The Crow's Nest or some shit. As for the car…

He just told them to figure it out themselves.

Honestly, Dante couldn't argue with that.

So, after stopping by the Nest and grabbing supplies, (They didn't stock missiles which Lady was pissed about) they drove their happy asses to the haunted house. Morrison wasn't lying when he said the place was hard to find. Dante took the wrong turn a few times, Lady read off the wrong directions twice, yelling at stupid pedestrians to get out of the way, it was its own kind of Hell. It was only by luck they managed to find the old shop.

Three stories high with large boarded up windows on the first floor breaking up the dull brickwork, heavy double doors in the center that looked like they belonged on some castle wall instead in the middle of the city, and that was underneath all the graffiti. The music shop had defiantly seen better days. And there was something definitely up with the place, his 'sixth sense' was going nuts.

"How much are we getting paid again?" Lady asked, hauling out her gear from the car.

"Nine grand I think." Wasn't bad pay. He'd usually snag a job every few months, while just doing some freelance hunting on the side. Money was less reliable, but that wasn't why he was in this line of work.

"It's a start." Lady turned to him, geared up and her rifle hanging by the sling on her chest. "We doin' this or what?"

Dante flashed a grin. "Who you gonna' call?"

"No."

"Come on, just say it."

"Fuck off."

"It's the perfect time!"

A deep, tired sigh escaped her, "Fine." Dante didn't miss the upward quirk in her lips. "Ghostbusters."

"Damn right you do!" Drawing his sword, he turned on his heel and marched up to the doors. "Hear that Casper? You're gonna' get got!" He raised his foot to kick the doors in before Lady stopped him. Without breaking eye contact, she turned one of the handles and gently pushed it open.

"Hey dumbass, did you remember that they still wanted to sell the place?"

"It already looks pretty wrecked." Dante lowered his foot and gestured to the vandalism. "Don't know how this shop could get any worse."

"Just be careful." Lady walked in first, the hardwood floors squeaking under her weight. Music instruments and seating were spread around the open room as if discarded. "Last thing we need is s- OH SHIT!" An invisible force lifted Lady up, spinning her in the air while pulling her deeper into the building. Dante rushed forward, dodging the flying instruments that magically came to life. Shit went from zero to sixty really quick.

Bending backwards to avoid drumstick skewering his eyes, he slammed his hand onto the wooden floor and flipped himself onto wall. In a heartbeat, he saw Lady disappear up a staircase into the floor above. Using the brick as a springboard he launched himself forward, trying to follow Lady. He heard gunshots when he reached the stairs, flashes of light illuminating the darkness above.

"LET GO OF ME YOU BITCH!"

At least Lady was relatively okay.

A brutal orchestra followed him up the stairs, the music of chaos wrecking everything in its wake. Grabbing the post at the top, he used his momentum to swing himself. The second floor opened into a hallway lined with doors, and at the end, another set of stairs going up. Dante saw the second from the last door swing shut as he let go of the post.

Lady was also screaming obscenities, which was a good sign.

He hit the wall running. An off-key clarinet blared and stabbed him in the back as he ran. Dante didn't pay it any mind, pulling out Ebony and shooting the lock off the door Lady disappeared into. Brass and wood splintered, the door creaking open with no latch to hold it. Barreling through the door, he found himself in an old bedroom with Lady hovering in the middle of it. She had her pistol drawn and was shooting anything that moved.

Including him.

His reflexes saved him from taking a bullet between the eyes.

"SHIT! SORRY!" Dante would've been more pissed if she wasn't spinning like a gyroscope in the air.

"I think it's angry!" Dante slammed his back to the door, barricading it against the onslaught of instrument outside. Fuck, that clarinet was still lodged in his back.

"No shit, sherlock!" She yelled, flailing. "What the fuck did I do to piss it off!?"

"When do you not piss people off?"

"Fuck you!"

"Not the time!" He'd probably pay for that later, but it got her to shut up for second. Alright Dante, think. If you were an angry ghost who manhandled dangerous women, where you be? Taking them to the bedroom, check. Now where would he go from here? Dante's eyes fell on the king-sized bed behind Lady's angry form. He stabbed Rebellion in the floor next to him, using the sword as a makeshift doorstopper.

"The hell are you doing?" Lady was in a perpetual state of imbalance and kept trying to adjust.

"Following a hunch." The bed was ornate, even having one of those canopy things with curtains. He pulled them back, ignoring the angry household items pelting his body. Two mummified corpses lie in a dead embrace before him, which gave more questions than answers. "What the Hell?"

"Shit!" That got a reaction from the ghost, who started pulling Lady across the walls in every direction. The sudden movement flung her gear everywhere, her fingers scraping against the wood, trying to hold onto something solid and marking the room with bloody trails. Moving before he could think, Dante leapt and grabbed one of her arms to try and keep her still. Whatever this thing was was strong, but it wasn't stronger than him. Issue was, he didn't want to rip Lady in half either.

So, no shit, there he was, using his body to protect Lady while they were treated like a pinball around the room. Her back was to his chest, and he could barely see anything past her black hair. This was the worst instance of being the big spoon. "Any-" He crashed into the desk, his back crumpling the wood. "Any bright ideas?" Dante asked.

"I'm going to shoot this fucker!" Grabbing the rifle still secured to her torso, Lady began shooting anything that looked important.

Including the bed.

Bullets ripped through the fabric, stuffing, dead flesh, and dry bones. The force became even more violent in response, thrashing them around with reckless abandon. If it wasn't for Rebellion blocking the door, it would probably be even worse. Then, without warning, they dropped. Dante's back hit the floor, breaking Lady's fall. Sitting up on him, she dropped her spent mag and reloaded, looking for a threat.

Taking out Ebony and Ivory for good measure, he scanned the room. The bed was ruined, the desk in shambles, the dresser was destroyed, and the closet riddled with holes was gurgling. Three barrels immediately homed in on the noise, ready to fire. Out from the closet came a retched… thing. A grubby man with a head of a goat crawled out with red stained robes, baleful eyes glaring down at them while blood leaked from its maw.

"Eurgh…" It tried to speak, blood bubbling from its mouth. "You… Tresspass in my home… Ruin my sanctuary… Defil-"

"Don't care." Dante pulled the trigger, blowing a hole through the goatman's skull. It collapsed onto the ground, dead. Lady stood up and trained her rifle on the closet door, walking in a wide arc to see if there was anything else inside. He didn't bother getting up, already 'feeling' that there was nothing else here that needed to be hunted. "Don't bother. There's nothing else here."

"You sure?" Lady asked, still checking the corners.

"Positive." That didn't stop her from double-tapping the goatman's corpse.

"Well… So much for not ruining the place." She went over and checked out the bed, shaking blood from her hands as she did so. "Who the hell are these two?"

"No idea." Dante stretched before getting up. "Probably some couple who got lost." Walking over next to her, he looked down at the ruined bed and its occupants. "Ugly over there probably lured them in or something." His eyes caught blood running from Lady's fingertips, the fingerless gloves doing little to protect them. He gently grabbed her hand without thinking. "Damn, he did a number on you."

"Stings like a motherfucker." She hissed in annoyance, not pulling away.

"I believe it." Pain was a dull sensation to him with how fast he healed. Looking at them, she'd probably have to bandage them for a few days. "Sucks you can't heal as fast as I do."

"Damn right it does. I could save a fortune on medical supplies." He hummed in agreement, still examining them. Her nails were ruined too. "You can let go now, you know."

"What?" Dante's eyes darted up to meet hers and he suddenly felt stupid. Lady had that caught the canary look and it didn't sit right with him. "Are you sure? Not gonna' bleed everywhere, are you?"

"I'll be fine." She pulled away, cracking her knuckles.

"If you say so." True to his nature, Dante started poking around the room, looking for anything valuable. He found pieces of a jewelry box in the wreckage of the desk, along with its contents. Some rings, a necklace, and a ruined watch.

"Are you really scavenging for shit right now?"

"Uh, yeah." He pocketed the trinkets. "Job's done and it took what? Ten, fifteen minutes tops? And it's not like they're using it."

"God, I hate it when you make sense." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Lady subtly snooping around too.

That's what they did for the next hour, going from room to room, looking for anything valuable. They bantered while they did so. It felt strangely comfortable to Dante, probably because it reminded him of jobs with James. Their haul ended up having an extra two grand they found in a floor safe in the basement, which was lucky.

Maybe things were starting to look up.

"Four grand?" Mary looked at the money on the table in front of her. "Is this a fucking joke?"

"Serious as a heart attack, chere." Morrison looked far too relaxed to short them more than half the reward.

"Where's the rest of our money, J.D.?" Dante asked from beside her. From the tone in his voice, she wasn't the only one pissed off.

"You asked me to find a new place for you to lay low, and so I did." He explained. "Think of that five grand as a down payment and first month's rent to get you on your feet. You'll be happy to know that I took the liberty of hiring someone to clean the place too. From what I've been told, it used to be a shithole."

"Five grand for a shithole apartment?" Dante scoffed. "That's a ripoff if I've ever heard one."

"Not an apartment, but a building." Morrison sighed. "Fuckin' youngins' lack patience nowadays."

"So what, you're our landlord then?" Mary asked.

"Correct." Morrison fished out some paperwork from his desk. "Rent will be… Well, since you'd be working for me, how about a grand?"

"That works…" It was far too generous, especially given it was somewhere in the city. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." Morrison said. "Just three stories of brick in a secluded neighborhood, everything you could want for a fugitive." He pushed some papers over to them. Mary and Dante both began examining the contents. She recognized the address on the papers.

It was the fucking shop they just came back from.

"No…" Dante voiced her thoughts before she could.

"Yes." Morrison looked all to pleased with himself. "Gal was desperate to sell, and I made her an offer she couldn't refuse."

"Hell no." Mary was not living in that mess of a creep show.

"Don't worry, the cleaner I hired is worth every penny." He assured her. "The place will look good as new in a few days."

"Doubt it." Dante scoffed. "That place was wrecked."

"Have a little faith, I know James taught you that much." Yeah, no shit.

"Fine." He crossed his arms, realizing there was nothing more he could do. Mary felt the same. "Don't got much of choice, do we?"

"Not if you want that info, which you haven't really told me about what yet."

"You didn't tell him?" Mary rounded on Dante.

"Hey, you forgot too." He shot back before addressing Morrison. "We need info on ways to get into Hell."

Morrison's eyebrows rose up considerably. "May I ask why you want to dive feet first into God's shithole?"

"Turns out my brother's alive and kicking around down there." Dante shrugged. "Gotta' get him back."

"Shame you made yourselves public enemies." The old man pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Instead of Uncle Sam dealing with your bullshit, I am. You know they got a surefire to get there, right? Good enough to launch a crusade."

"Trust me, we're aware." Mary said, pissed off about the whole ordeal.

"Noted." Morrison already sounded tired. "Anything else you suicide risks want to ask?"

"There's uh…" Dante began, making Morrison swear under his breath. "There are these necklaces the government took when they locked me up. I need them back." He explained. "Keepsakes."

"You're going to have to give me a bit more than that, son." He already looked tired. "I'm good, but I ain't a miracle worker."

"Look for cargo leaving Eden's Crypt from a few days ago, before it was raided." Mary answered, filling Morisson in. Dante was shoved in a box most of the time and probably had no clue.

"I knew you two had something to do with that the moment you walked through the door." He sighed, taking a drag. "I'll see what I can dig up, no promises though."

"You trying is good enough for us." Dante sounded like he meant it too.

"Good." He flicked off some of the ash into a tray. Fuck, now she wanted a cigarette. "Rent's due at the end of the month, now get out of my office before I come to my senses."

"See ya, J.D." Dante was fast to get out of his office, something Mary agreed with. She heard Morrison muttering something behind them when the door closed shut. Running a hand through her hair, Mary winced in pain from her raw fingers. The day was so busy she forgot to bandage them when they came back. It was going to be a pain to do it herself, but it had to be done. Sooner they were healed, the sooner it would stop hurting to pull the trigger.

"Wanna get some food?" Dante asked, breaking Mary from her thoughts. He was already halfway down the hall.

"Kinda hard to eat when you can't pick up a fork." She waived her damaged hands at him. "I'll grab something later."

"Nah, screw that. I'll just feed ya'."

"Feed me?" Did this idiot just say that? "What, like a fucking baby?"

"I'll make airplane noises too if you want." The asshole smirked at her. Before she could give a snarky reply, her stomach growled and answered his offer. She nearly flushed from embarrassment as Dante's smile became just a bit wider. It was only then she realized she hadn't eaten at all today, and that was probably why she was in such a mood. "The tab's on me remember?" He added.

"Fucking fine." Mary relented, brushing past him. "But if you treat my like a child, I'll cut off your sack and feed it to you." She threatened.

"Goo goo, Ga ga." He countered. That earned him such a withering glare that it made him take a step back. "Jesus' woman, that was a joke."

"Fucking better be."

Dante was starting to think that James was onto something.

Back in the day, the priest would tell him a lot about life and share as much wisdom as he could. It ranged from philosophy to food and everything in between. The priest did try teaching him about politics, but most of it went over his head. One topic that did get brought up a lot though, was women. Being as young as he was, Dante listened eagerly to the old man's tips and tricks for handling the finer sex even if some of the advice was a bit strange. The guy was married after all, so he must've done something right.

So, in order to make Lady less of a bitch, he employed the tactic James hounded on the most.

Dante pampered her.

He would laugh at how funny the situation was if it wasn't for the threat of castration hanging in the air. Dante didn't know if he could grow his balls back, and he wasn't keen to find out. After getting cleaned up, they were both in the hotel room in their nightclothes. Lady was bandaging her fingers while he fed her food he brought up from the bar, Tv droning on in the background. She was pacified for the time and all he needed to do was keep her that way.

"You know…" He started, waiting for the perfect moment. Lady looked up from bandaging her hands and took a bite of the food offered. "You remind me of a dog eating treats when you're like this." Her eyes narrowing was the only warning he got before getting kicked in the shin, being opposite from each and on their separate beds made it easy for her.

"Dick." She said after swallowing. "And it was you who offered. Not my fault Goatman grabbed me first."

"It's not, but it did reveal his questionable taste in women." He added, continuing to feed her. "Still trying to figure out why he'd set up shop in a place like that."

"One, I am not questionable, and two, the guy probably wasn't alone." Checking her fingers, she made sure the cloth bandages were secure before moving to the other hand. "You saw the clothes he was wearing?"

"Yeah, the culty ones?" The pieces started coming together now that she pointed it out. "Think he was in a cult?"

"More than likely. Fuckers like that either gather in groups or do weird shit by themselves. There was a whole class on it in Darkcom, biggest red flag being robes and spouting 'holier than thou' shit."

"Sounds like church." He remarked.

"The only difference between a cult and a religion is it being sanctioned by the government." Lady droned as if reading off a notecard. "So unless you know a religion that has followers of goatmen, I'm positive it's a cult."

"The Church of the Goat, of course." He said dramatically. "How could I not see it? Their infamous ways are known far and wide."

"Shut up." She smirked and rolled her eyes at his theatrics. It made him think back to their new 'home' when something occurred to him.

"Doesn't that mean they might visit the new pad?" It seemed logical. "The cult, I mean."

Lady paused midchew to consider it before swallowing. "Fuck, you're right." A heavy sigh escaped her. "That means we have to fortify that fucking mess. Maybe we should let Morrison know."

"And piss him off more?" Dante didn't like that idea. "I don't know about you but he already seemed close enough to throwing us out the door. And who's to say J.D. doesn't already know about them?" It seemed reasonable, he operated in this city after all. "I say just sit on it for now, if they come knockin', we just ice 'em and then let him know. Shouldn't be too hard." Wouldn't make much of a difference anyway in his opinion.

"I'm still fortifying the place." Lady said, finished dressing her hand. "Cult or not, I am not staying in a place that isn't bulletproof." She jabbed a bandaged finger towards him. "Especially with you around."

"What are you talking about?" Dante knew exactly why. "Nothing bad ever happens around me."

"Bull and shit. I swear that cocky attitude of yours is more annoying than anything else you do."

"Cocky attitude?" He almost felt hurt. "Lady, I'm not cocky, I'm confident and the ladies love it."

"Ladies love it?" Lady laughed at that. "Dante, whoever told you that is a fucking liar. Even the most gullible woman wouldn't fall for shit like that."

"Sure, just like men are lining the walls with that bright attitude of yours." Dante countered.

"Yeah, to get shot." She responded.

"Not what I meant." Lady instead looked at him confused. "You know," Way to go Lady, taking the wind out of his sails. "Hooking up with a guy or gal, having a good time…" Lady's silence was telling as he went on, looking at him like he grew a second head.

"Oh, yeah." She said, rolling her eyes and finally catching on. "Never had a problem with that."

"Really now?" He didn't believe her. An abrasive attitude like hers definitely caused problems. "Must've been on a lot of dates then. Real man eater."

"Nope." She threw him through a loop again. His grin instantly vanishing at the easy admission.

"Alright, have you ever been asked out?"

"Nope means nope, dumbass."

"Okay…" Now this was weird. "Let's switch tactics, have you ever fucked?"

"What the fuck dude?" Lady almost sounded disgusted by the thought.

"Timeout." He had questions. "Are you telling me you've never been with anybody? Not even a crush?"

"What's it matter to you?" She was defensive about it. So, she at least had crushes, a good sign. He was starting to think there was something seriously wrong with her.

"It's just hard to believe, that's all."

"Not all of us have had as much free time as you." Lady scowled.

"Fair." He did have a lot of downtime. "But seriously, nothing? You're like a solid nine, objectively."

"So are you, and you're still as lonely as I am." Wow. That was one hell of a backhanded compliment. "Just drop it."

"Fine, consider it dropped." Guess it was a sore spot. "Just trying to get to know you a bit better since we're going to be roommates and all."

"Oh… Guess I haven't thought of that." Lady admitted. "Been busy just making to the next day." She ran her bandaged finger through her black hair, deep thoughts running behind those mismatched eyes.

"Damn right." He put his feet up on the bed, relaxing. "Having my own bed again is going to be nice. Rooms too."

"Yeah…" The droning of the Tv filled the natural drop in conversation, lulling Dante mind. "Hey Dante?" Lady's soft voice disturbed the silence.

"Yeah?" His eyes cracked open to see Lady laying on her own bed staring at the ceiling, her hand playing with a lock of hair.

"I'm sorry." That got his eyes to open a bit wider.

"About what?" Where was this coming from?

"This morning…" She started. "And Everything, really. Dragging you into custody, drugging you, the experiments, the world ending shit… And being so… Such a bitch." It took a great effort to contain himself and to not ask if she was having a stroke. Lady's gaze slid to him, her eyes meeting his. "Even if you did make things exponentially worse."

"I…" The urge to make a sarcastic remark was strong, but she was being honest and so should he. "I could've done better."

"We both could've." She said. "I just don't think anyone knew the White Rabbit would be so… dangerous."

"And why would you? The guy was a furry." A light laugh escaped Lady as he said it, making something tighten in his chest. "Nobody takes furries seriously."

"You're right." She breathed. "After all, how much damage could a guy in a fucking rabbit costume do?"

"The answer might surprise you."

"I think it surprised everyone." They started breaking down into giggles at the absurdity of it. How a man in a Halloween costume nearly brought the world to its knees. The only things stopping him were them, two orphans with daddy issues. "God, what a fucking world." She sighed.

"Yeah." The world was defiantly a fucked-up place. Maybe it was time to start trying to fix it and stop coasting through the damn thing.

It's what mom would've wanted.

Dante held out a fist toward Lady, making her raise an eyebrow.

"What's this?"

"You can't tell me you don't know what a fist bump is."

"I know that, idiot." She rolled her eyes. "I'm asking why."

"New beginnings." He shrugged. "Or not letting the world fall to a tide of demons and hellfire. Take your pick." With an amused smile, Lady brought a bandage fist to his.

"New beginnings." Their hands lingered longer than it had to, her touch somehow comforting before she pulled away. "Only because I'm too tired to fight demons right now."

"Yeah." Dante brought his hand back and stared at it, trying to figure out why he felt so strange. "Me too."

You guys ever had smash burgers before? They're freaking delicious.

Until next time.