A/N: This is a revision/refresh of the same story I wrote about 2 years ago. I wanted to make it better, so let's hope it worked. I dedicate this chapter to Night Companion who kicked my butt into doing this, plus a lot more - her writing is very much worth checking out!

What's left to say now is – enjoy and review!

CH1 –Red Moon Rising

Moonlight bravely determined to filter through the dusty, un-curtained windows briefly triumphed as it wanly touched wooden walls and slowly crept across wooden floors in an attempt to illuminate a curious room. Only it shied away before reaching the deeper corners as whispers of undisturbed coldness brushed against its feeble light.

Looking like a place of business, there was evidence the room also served as a residence based on the personalized pleasant pastime offerings. A pool table, various musical instruments, an outdated jukebox, a large antique desk with an accompanying chair, a side corner occupied by an overused couch, table and small television set, all of which would conventionally invite others in, did not. Collectively, these things voiced a silent complaint they were not for anyone's use without permission of the owner, this being in itself a rare occurrence. Quite a confusing contradiction of leisure and reluctant welcome.

Strangely, a melancholy nostalgia varnished the stark walls where no personal pictures or homey decorations graced them. Instead, barely discerned insidious whispers were hidden within those walls that no false security of burning lights could combat. Not only whispers of a past that should be left untouched, these chilling words could ensnare the mind, freeze the heart and sear the soul with tragic sorrows and unspeakable horrors. Compelling terrible murmurs promised things, hideous, cruel, merciless things, prowled the night.

The innocent learned to stay away, and those with sinister intent? They were not usually seen again.

If he knew, the owner of Devil May Cry would laugh and suggest reading the outside neon red sign above the door. It wasn't his fault if the foolhardy did not heed its message or believe in him for he was as contrary as his humble dwelling. He would say the old building fit him like a pair of broken in leather gloves. Disliking intrusions on his solitude, he would be flattered he had achieved the right atmosphere in encouraging chattering, annoying people to vacate the premise with due haste.

This was his place, his things, to do with as he pleased. Fiercely protective of his privacy, he would keep his secrets to himself as he occasionally gave into the nostalgia behind locked doors while mostly living in the present. There was no thought of the future because in his business, his first breath may be his last. As for the whispers, they were old friends keeping him company and on track, reminding him who he was, the actions he chose to take and the reasons why. They were also the past that he kept alive, a past he could not escape from, no matter how much he tried, especially during times like this when unsettling warnings rode the air.

It was in these times, even the boldest or most curious would flee in instinctual self-preservation from the ominous shadows dancing within the room. Because this particular black night created an unusually weighty silence that filled the premises with an eerie disquiet saturating the darkness even the foreboding moon, try as it might, could not combat.

Much like the weary moonlight, when Dante stepped inside he averted his eyes away from the murky darkness, and declined listening to the hissing within the walls, refusing to let his mind sink into their entrapping lure. Shrugging off the heavy coat drenched in the events of an unusually busy night, he strode quickly toward the back door. He then flicked on a light switch, allowing the brightness of the bathroom flood his disturbed soul.

Very fortunately for him, he found solace in liking his work. Although rarely feeling dread and unafraid of terrors that would drive most mortals mad, Dante could not shake the chill as he cranked up the hot water. Gleaming white tile reflected his white hair, made silver by the shower as he vigorously scrubbed shampoo against his scalp. Never a good sign, he thought the air felt heavier than usual, carrying a message announcing strange forces were at large with big plans in the works. And big plans equaled big trouble.

Palms pressing hard against the wet tiled wall, Dante let his eyes slip closed, water dripping down from his long white lashes. Unsure why, his unease grew as flashes of his lost brother were spotting the red canvas behind his closed lids. Shaking out his hair so drops flew before subconsciously slicking them back, he lifted his face into the flow of water. Trusting his instincts, he detested he couldn't put his finger on precisely what the raised red flags in his gut were signaling and what Vergil's distressing visage heralded.

Deciding not to let his ominous suspicions drag him too deep down into his subconscious, Dante opened his eyes again. Allowing the hot balm to cascade down his body to sooth the slight ache in muscles like slick stones in a stream, he pondered aloud, "What do I do after I get off this shit, gore, erm...sticky stuff, goo, smelly entrails, and whatever this is?" Rubbing a mysterious blotch on his hip, he wondered why it wasn't coming off, "Right. A bruise. Well then. I think this calls for a reward to ease my suffering."

After more vigorous scrubbing he was sure was taking off his skin, he was pleased to see the brownish, greenish... and was that purple?... gunk in the suds circling the drain, indicating the tenacious slime was finally washing off him.

Even for Dante, as battle scarred, experienced and skilled as he was, he found the stuff kinda gross. No. Make that straight out gross. There was no "kinda" about the new demons he was coming across.

Usually avoiding stinky demon innards was not so difficult, but for the last several days there had been so many, he could not avoid getting splattered by whatever these demons carried inside them. Which, much to his revulsion, was a surprising lot he could do without. He would have thought they'd be the usual stitched up sacs of rancid mashed potatoes, or beef jerky; winner's choice. But nooo, these things had to be rotting from the inside out with something like thick pus from an oozing sore.

Even for him, after what seemed like endless years of slaying, this was really too much. These new guys, whatever they were, were starting to piss him off. He seemed to have gotten in a habit lately of encountering the most disgusting ones Hell could choke out. Knowing he was being ludicrous, if he had to place the blame on someone, he knew who he would blame. Lady. She had an uncanny knack for dragging him into the worst jobs promising the most mess, the least cash, while leaving him with all the nasty leftovers. Did she drag in these incredible creatures from Hell just for him? He wouldn't be the least surprised to discover she did.

Ah, sweet Lady. Yeah, in his dreams. He wished. Fearless, she made it perfectly clear though they were friends, which made Dante cringe to think what she did to her enemies, no demon was worthy of her consideration. Except for Trish.

Trish. Now there was an altogether different devil to contend with, and he blamed Lady for that one too. Realizing the distraction of Lady was actually serving a rare purpose by getting his mind off darker, even more painful thoughts, Dante eagerly grabbed the chance to go with the grating flow. He wondered if she'd had anything to do with Trish taking off again without a bye-you-leave, nor note saying where she was going and when, or if, she would be back.

Then again, he glumly figured with his rotten luck with women he might have been the main reason for her departure leaving a gap for the greedy wrenching shadows to seep into his brain since her presence went far in keeping them away. Either way, Lady hadn't wanted or asked him to come along when Trish had evidently called her for a trip to meet up with her wherever she was.

Remembering, Dante grit his teeth in ire as she had blithely announced "Girls only. Off on a short business trip" in passing with a dismissive flick of her short, stylish raven hair. The worst part, as irony seemed a recurring theme throughout his life, was he shot himself in the foot by personally introducing them. To top it off, what does a demon wanting to be more humane added to a human wanting to be more demonic equal? Trouble. Damn. Trying not to care, he secretly wished he could have gone along to keep them in check while having some fun on the side. But Lady, and he would throw in Trish for good measure, hadn't even give him the opportunity.

Despite the danger of his thoughts straying too far into the dark while an uneasy restlessness idled in his thoughts, Dante spaced out as the hot water kept rushing down his toned body. It was bad for him to be alone for too long in this state, a dangerous little place. Without the luxury of having someone's opinion on whether he was right to be a little uptight, it was so quiet at Devil May Cry without Trish, he simply needed to get out, to mingle, to do whatever.

That's where another mixed blessing in occupying and calming his mind came into play. The demons. There were suddenly too many, large groups of them, as if they were congregating or something. He hadn't heard of any demon conventions being in town, but maybe that was it. Coming from different unheard of places would help to explain the explosion of all the new breeds.

But the best thing about it? Lady was out of town, which meant… He might not have kept the girls in check but he would be getting a big check. Just like today. All for himself! And he could pick and choose the jobs he wanted, like the best rides at a funfair. Without being swindled or tricked for once, the fun shall continue. Tonight!

A few moments passed and Dante straightened himself up, picking up a small rubber devil that sat grumpily on a floating lava stone on the rim of the bathtub. Slicked-back hair, now dirty white from the hot water that abused it covered a loose head above a blue coat, faded but much cleaner. It now stood on a large hand, looking at a face much like its own, only much more alive and detailed.

"So dude, where should I go first? Get a beer? A pizza? Get some demon meat? Yeah, I'd start with the bar - a good place for demons. And for getting a beer, at least one would hope," Dante grumbled, staring at the little devil for an answer. A stony face gave him a return stare.

A smirk crossing his face, he brought the rubber figure under the stream of water. Pummeled by the onslaught of the running shower, the loose head started to nod like crazy.

"What was that?" Dante put a hand to his ear as if he had misheard. "I should get a strawberry sundae? No? A tomato chaser, a pizza and then a beer?" The figurine nodded again happily without being happy. "You are bloody useless, aren't you? And you forgot about the demons, didn't you? You know, demons?" Another nod came in response. "Yeah, I thought so."

Shutting his eyes to let his imagination run wild, Dante caught the droplets of water that had by now turned cold with his tongue, picturing drinking a chilled beer, a tomato flavor. "Mmmm, a beer pizza. And Lady is buying."

His blue orbs shot open, and with that encouraging thought still embedded deep in his mind, he quickly turned the bitterly cold shower off. Then, placing the little Vergil back onto his rightful stone-cold place, Dante paused, staring in thought at the rubber devil in blue. "You didn't cause all this, did you?" He asked hesitantly, one eye narrowing as he peered at the lookalike of his long dead brother. A wild nod came in return, the last droplets of bubbles sliding down the tarnished white rubber. Shaking the absurdity out of his head, and with it all the excess water from his hair, Dante jumped out of the bath.

Absently brooding, Dante quickly yanked his red leather trousers onto his long legs, forgetting that he was still all wet. His knees becoming imprisoned in the tightening leather, he toppled down like a fallen tree. Cursing the women and atmospheric conditions making his nerves taut for this lameass mishap, with lightning swiftness his hands shot forth to find his face an inch from smacking the floor. Mortified, he figured although the physical pain would have been brief, his ego and trousers would not recover so easily. Flipping over with trepidation, his gimlet stare landed on the stuck on leather, and the long tear along both knees. Damn all hells to the worst one of them all. They were his favorite pair!

Now he really needed to take his frustration out on something. Bless demons yet again for being such an obvious choice. The new bar couldn't have opened at a better time, luring in a lot of his potential clientele now that so many demons needed somewhere to hide.

Garbed in his second favorite hunting gear, with Ebony and Ivory stashed in a hiding nest under his requisite red trench coat, Dante slipped out into the dark streets. Senses discreetly probing the night, he strode straight to his destination.

Giving the bouncer a calm, casual nod, he stepped inside the Blue Star, wincing at the abrupt switch from the tranquility of the empty dark street to the loud noise and bright lights inside. It slammed into him like a bullet, the resulting stab of pain making him grimace. Regardless, Dante quickly adjusted as his eyes morphed to demonic vision, instantly scouting out the place.

The bar brimmed over with people occupying most tables, the dance floor hardly visible beneath the heaving, swaying mass of sweating skin and skimpy clothes. Dante paused at the door, slowly taking in the wildly moving crowd, inhaling the expanding tendrils of invisible demonic currents wafting through the air. He could spot them straight away, feel them out like electric eels in the sea of people.

So much for taking his frustrations out on demon slaying. All of the ones he was picking up meant no harm, wanting a night on the town like anyone else, although with a hidden, open secret. Sort of like him. Feeling a kind of kinship, he could admit to getting a kick out of the idea of clueless humans dancing with the devils. HA. Dancing with the Devil. Good one, and one that fit him to a "T".

Holding in the chuckle at his own joke, carefully, Dante began to wade through the pulsing wave of scarcely clothed bodies generating so much heat, he could kill for a frosty beer under the melting lights. Thinking of his brilliant concoction of tomato-flavored beer, doubting he could find any, he wondered if he could get lucky enough to find a tomato juice chaser as a second choice.

Reaching the long curved bar, Dante sat down on a stool and spun round, gazing back at the stage full of people twisting in the most primitive and inhumanly ways. How close it was to the truth.

"What can I get you darling? The usual?" a cheery female voice stole his attention, causing him to quickly whip his head towards its owner.

"And how would you know what my usual is, lady?" he asked cockily, his deep blues fixing on the dark orbs of a Latina woman.

Recognizing the long black hair and narrow figure, Dante changed his grin to genuine pleasure as he slapped his palm on the counter jovially, all demon and human politics temporarily forgotten. "Ha! Alena? What is your lovely self doing here?"

"I moved from the Love Planet as soon as I heard this place was looking. I found that joint too wicked in its ways for my taste."

If she only knew, Dante gave her an understanding look, tilting his head.

"And I didn't like the clientele there either," Alena was happy to announce. "Apart from you of course my darling, you were different," she quickly added, sending him an assuring wink.

You have no idea, Dante tilted his white head the other way, features slipping into amusement.

"So, there is nothing bad here?" Dante pouted his lower lip slightly, pretending to look disappointed. "Hey, no hard feelings if I still pop back there now and then?" he gave her his foolproof puppy eyes just for fun. He had no desire to go back, apart from checking on any new demonic clientele naturally.

"Not if you still show your face here, now and then," the woman laughed while filling up a clean glass with the amber liquid.

"Deal," he was happy to oblige, mouth widening into an impeccable smile that normally got him a free drink. He still had to watch the bills, somehow always getting more of those than the lucrative ones he found in his pocket. Even though he had a lot more coming in right now, nothing could replace the great feeling of getting something for free!

"Well in that case, enjoy your first time here; this one is on the house." She placed a sparkling pint in front of his mischievously flickering eyes. They never failed. Only they never got him what he truly wanted, like a tomato chaser. Damn.

"Now I am definitely coming back, Alena!" He picked up the beer and emptied it almost instantly. Alena waltzed away to serve other customers and Dante, now content, clutching the rest of his favorite free poison in his hand, ran his eyes across the length of the bar.

The things he could afford right now spread themselves in front of his picky pallet like an all you can drink buffet. Aged liquors, fruit flavored cocktails, expensive imported beers, the things that begged money to be wasted on. His lip curled into a smirk of evil satisfaction.

Disappointingly though, most of the stock appeared to be too uninteresting, the same old spread that could be found in these kinds of establishments, and they sparked close to none excitement. Too bad. Seriously. Where were the strawberry sundaes? And the pizza flavored beers? Well he sure wasn't ashamed to have different tastes but it did have its downsides – like the lack of money spending opportunities.

Nonetheless, drumming his hands on the counter matching the beat of the blasting music, Dante was glad he had come. His earlier gloomy mood forgotten, he was sure he could come up with a plan to use or lose the cash he earned all by himself, on himself, for himself, without his sneaky female cohorts scenting out his fresh money like bloodhounds. It was not his fault if they decided to take off to parts unknown. Their actions that basically told him they thought his company was no loss to them was his gain.

Devilish smirk widening, he would enjoy whatever he could here before heading out to end his evening on a high note of demon slaying. Cheerily he thought since he missed his dessert, now all he needed was something to appease his appetite by finding a sweet treat to keep him company, passing the time to make his lucky streak delightfully complete.

As he scoured the place for something that would catch his eye, he finally spotted what he was looking for in the form of something quite different than he expected. A young woman sat alone right at the other end of the outwardly curved bar, long golden hair spilling down to bounce and curl on her shoulders, as she slouched, stirring a drink with a short black straw.

The lights from the bar touched and curved around the woman's beautiful face, silhouettes of expensive bottles reflecting in the most intense very peculiar green of her eyes. Her face wasn't where his attention stopped though as his appraising eyes slid down her gentle feminine features that appeared somewhat drawn around the edges. Past the narrowing waist, his gaze slowed down on something her hand was clutching underneath the bar.

Dante quickly waved at Alena, pointing to his empty glass. The lady-bartender scooted over with a fond smile and instantly started to top up his drink.

"Hey, Al," he nudged towards the quiet blonde. "Do you know who she is?"

The female bartender flipped her straight raven hair back and looked in the said direction. She needn't ask whom he meant. "No, she started coming here only a few weeks ago, I think. Always sits at the same place, at the same time, and orders the same thing; a freshly squeezed orange juice. She never talks to anybody," Alena said casually while topping up Dante's pint to the rim and placing it skillfully in front of him without spilling a drop. When he nodded, she spun on her heels and took off again.

Never talks to anybody eh? Somehow I have a hunch you'll talk to me honey. He pushed back his seat, gaining a better view of her legs. His avid gaze grazed on their heavenly length, bound in skin fitting black leather, held on her curved out hips by a silver dragon belt; a belt right below a bare, velvety smooth flat sun brushed stomach.

Spontaneously, he licked the cold droplet of dew sliding down the glass in his hand, willing himself to tear his eyes from her man trapping knee high black boots, swaying in the air with their thick heels like a mesmerizing pendant. Look at her package for God's sake. Not that one. The other one!

Reining back his basic male drive to make room for his advanced demon senses, Dante's narrowing eyes fell upon the little black case she so tightly held. It would never escape him - the distinct heads of two swords sticking out like hidden cobras from a basket, sending a bite of pain into his normally strong guts. Katanas... You've just gained my attention little butterfly, the kind that many grow to dread.

Dante was not aware of any other devil hunters in the vicinity and intrigued as to why someone would bother packing two swords in a bar, unless they were either trying to forget a bad performance in a martial arts class, or their intention was to kill something or someone. Moreover, she only had an orange juice, which had him leaning towards the latter.

Dismissing the idea to go over and introduce himself, Dante opted to stay put and play the observer, keen to avoid an incident in a busy place. These things begged for privacy, finding out if she was a threat and to whom.

If she was some criminal about to draw too much attention, or worse, another demon hunter wannabe, she wasn't good for business. Darn humans, always causing the most trouble, and she was definitely human, and most likely trouble.

Patience paying off, the blonde finally finished her drink and pulled on her jacket that was thrown over the backrest of her chair. Zipping up the cover of the long bag, she stood up and slung it over her shoulder, weaving her way out of the bar like a ghost.

Dante quickly gulped down the rest of his beer, left more money than needed for the free drink, and left the club without anyone taking notice of his discreet but hasty departure.

The streets had turned ruthlessly dark, lamps nearly forgotten in this rundown part of town. Only the fuzzy full moon and a few flickering neon signs struggled to illuminate the foggy night. Silence crept into the misty alleys and mildew eaten walls the further he moved from the pounding music of the nightclub, gliding to the faint echo of leather heels somewhere ahead.

Thinking about it, her ability to move so well through the night only proved her weapons were quite real. No one with mere replicas would move like that, slinking through the shadows like a cat on a hunt. Besides, his hunches were never wrong. She was out for a kill, and he was there to see what exactly she would be killing.

She was walking in a leisurely but fast pace through the back alleys keeping close to the shading walls. To gain an easier viewpoint, Dante jumped onto the balcony of a nearby house and from there on top of the roof. It would be easier to keep up with her unnoticed from there. Hidden overhead, he followed the young woman as she headed towards a vast green speckled with hundred year old trees right outside his district.

Dante squatted down on the last rooftop overlooking the park, watching the stranger sit down on a bench not too far from the entrance. He made himself comfortable on the slightly sloping slated surface, closing his eyes. Taking advantage of a momentary parting of the clouds, he tilted his face towards the briefly bright, haze free moon as if sunbathing in its clear, steady light. From his spot, he had a perfect view of the whole area where she was sitting through the trees and across fallen leaves, despite the ever so slowly creeping mist snaking over the grass.

After about ten minutes of nothing happening without even a bird disturbing the still quiet, becoming progressively bored, his fingers tapping impatiently, Dante let out a disappointed growl. Maybe she wasn't up to anything at all. Then, as he started to get up, something made him tense, an electrifying vibration rushing through the chilly air. A familiar unpleasant tingling spread through his body, making him slowly turn towards the woodland.

His focused eyes caught the reflection of a small blood-red light crackling to existence in the air, a mere few meters from the girl. What the fuck? His brows furrowed.

The tiny light grew into a spinning saucer, then flashed and expanded into a bone-fide portal, all the while the girl sat slouched on the bench, looking away, seemingly unaware. His hand reached under his coat for his guns as he went on high alert. About to make his move, the woman stood up suddenly, one of the sheathed swords lightly swaying in her hand. She approached the brightly glowing vortex with a saunter, an eerie red shadow cast on her serious, tight-lipped, determined expression.

Then the time slowed down right in front of him, his demon coming forth to observe with feline senses every little move, feel every smell, hear every rustle. What are you going to do…

The spinning light did not seem to faze the woman as it continued to expand, forming a circle two meters in diameter. In that instant the blonde suddenly unsheathed her katana. Faint, distant hiss of metal first piercing his heightened perception, he knew the second the sword was freed to perform.

The sharp blade sailed through the air with a whistle, swinging upwards in one fluid movement, cutting right through a demon that stepped out with grim purpose from the hellish light. The falling body, limp in its dying moment, smashed into the portal, causing it to jerk violently to the side. Like an explosion triggered avalanche, the remaining demons poured out, piling onto the ground. Slashing through the hell prides falling from the portal, she nimbly side-stepped their wildly thrashing limbs.

Dante suppressed a hearty laugh from atop the nearby roof. It looked like the lady didn't need to be told how to get down to business. This I have to see. Even if it means not joining the party, for now.

As the portal flickered out of existence, the woman's face fell into darkness, the moon casting her enlarged shadow onto the creatures of hell lying beneath her. Eyes closing, she re-sheathed the long sword and waited for the bundle of death to slowly untangle. Stumbling to their limbs of all shapes and sizes, they encircled her faster than one would give them credit for. Crooked scythes raised in readiness to strike, she took a long deep breath, as if still waiting for them to move.

Come on girl, get a move on.

As if his thoughts passed through her, her eyes snapped open as if brought to life and the katana rushed out of its sheath in a wide arc, slicing three of the monsters in half. Blood gushed out in sync with the dance of the slender sword, the demonic foes feeling their bones intact, unshattered, not knowing they were cut cleanly like butter. The instruments of deadly harm the ranks of evil held so tightly, now sliced off with their arms, clattered harmlessly to the ground. The demons' bodies exploded into scarlet dust, one after another, as she made a turn and came to a rest with the sword raised above her head, hair wild and falling into her face.

Dante left his inclination to butt in behind as he could not tear himself from her movements. They reminded him of someone he had known. So much so, he almost froze in a past he didn't want to venture into again. The deadly sword, the grace, the detached elegance… Forcefully shaking off the settling haze from his eyes, Dante resumed watching the gruesome spectacle.

As the woman finished another turn, the momentum pushed her sword into the jugulars of two more demons, near slicing off the heads. Instantly she swooped down, narrowly avoiding decapitation herself, and extending her leg she spun tripping up several hell's minions to her right. The katana plunged backwards into the heart of the nearest one falling down, causing it to collapse into a pile of dust just like the others already slain.

A well aimed back flip got her out of the now crowded circle, and she made a dash for the remaining five, slashing her blade left and right like a steel whip, breaking bones and scythes alike. When she emerged from the cloud of red mist and dust, composed but catching her breath, the katana held outstretched behind her back, no demons were left standing.

"I just loooove chicks who can handle long weapons." Her body whipped quickly, together with her blade, to face the source of the smug comment. Those demons didn't talk.

"Whoa babe, I was simply admiring the view," Dante protested defensively as he threw his hands recklessly into the air. Squinting intensely at the cold tip of the katana pointed at his throat, he reminded himself that women with sharp weapons needed to be handled delicately.

"First, don't call me babe and second, who are you and why are you here?" the woman blurted out in one breath, intently studying the man suspiciously that loomed over her, keeping the sword right where it was. He was big, but did not look like a demon to her, though there was just something strange about him that she couldn't put her finger on. Maybe he had something to hide under that large red coat of his, she surmised. Only perverts or killers come out at night to a place like this!

"Me? I am merely a guy who thought to himself, isn't it a lovely night for a walk," he walked his two fingers down the blunt side of her blade, "and, maybe I would get lucky?" He stopped his hand with a wide grin on his face adding to the already doubtful authenticity of his statement.

Not surprisingly, the woman didn't buy his innocent act. A strangled curse left him as the tip of her sword flinched disturbingly closer to his throat.

"Oh really? It's a bitter and murky night and the only thing you might get lucky with in a place like this is getting mugged or killed," she retorted, putting emphasis on the last word, nearly spitting it out.

Her strong reaction though wasn't quite what Dante had expected. She was not concerned about her but him? And who would do the killing exactly?

Visibly amused, Dante pointed out in a light tone, "The only one doing the killing here is you sweetheart, so are you going to point that thing at me all night, or are you going to chill already?" He widened his smile, leaning down to her and into the blade, making the woman think that he was a complete nutcase. Take that, mad cat, he slightly gloated.

"Then answer my question, truthfully, and I will think about it," she insisted uncertainly, eyes flickering with alarm. He had seen everything? If so, did he not comprehend it wasn't safe around here? Around me?

Then a realization hit her as she narrowed her eyes frustratingly at him. "Did you….follow me?"

"What if I did?" he lifted his eyes towards the hazy dark sky, his voice losing its playful edge. A soft veil of clouds shrouded the moon, a sickly coating of reddish tinge floating on the edges, ever since the darn demons came pouring in from nowhere… Bad, bad sign. Well, at least she wasn't turning into a werewolf. That was another option he hadn't even considered.

"And why would you do that?" she asked with a hint of anger, placing her free hand on her hip, sizing him up with exasperated interest. Did he want to jump her in the park? He wouldn't even know what hit him, she smirked inwardly. Although, he didn't seem that desperate; someone as handsome and boldly dressed as he was had no need to stalk women. So what was he following her for, the fool? A searing dread entered her stomach at the unnerving thought, Did he…find her attractive?

"Well, it's not often you see a chick with these kind of instruments prowling around at night. So I thought I would check it out and see how you were going to use them," Dante crossed his arms on his tight chest and drew his face into a more serious concerned expression. Fun aside, it was time for business.

A chick? Is this fun to him? The woman stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. What was he? The last boy scout? Some kind of a neighborhood watch goody good guy who took his job way too seriously? Did those still exist? Or a bored superhero expecting a damsel in distress? That outfit he wore would sure fit that one.

Somewhat confused, still not trusting him, but given that her hand started throbbing close to numbness, she slowly lowered the long sword, and with a vertical twirl returned it to its scabbard in one silky move.

Oh jeez, get those ridiculous moves out of my face! Dante winced inwardly, but hid it instantly. His eyes made a roll though, without his notice. Fortunately, she failed to notice too.

"And? Are you satisfied?" she asked, this time using a strong sarcastic tone.

Of course, the women he met never needed any help! Story of his life.

"Sure, you nailed those," ignoring her misplaced yet understandable mistrust, together with her tantalizingly heaving bosoms, Dante hesitated for a second but then continued, "demons pretty well." He was quite certain she knew what they were, surmising she knew that he knew. He only needed to let her keep guessing who he was, until he could be certain who she was. Damn, did that make sense?

"So you know demons," she somewhat questioned, sounding surprised but also relieved, just what he had hoped for. Now things should be a lot easier. So he thought.

"I might have seen one or two." Dante walked towards the spot where the portal had materialized only ten minutes ago, and extended his hand out. His skin tingled as the feel of the dark residual energy glided through him, yet to the human eye it appeared like he was expecting to touch something material, instead finding empty air.

"What I haven't seen before is demons getting an invitation to pop around just like that. To see someone who seemed to be in fact expecting them. So, what's the deal here?" He turned back to face her, blue eyes hardened to a near dark amethyst with a brief flash of hostility.

He tried to contain himself, but for a single moment, a moment enough for him to shudder, his entire soul dipped into icy darkness fed by the recent visions of his deceased brother, before surfacing again into the present. He hated these trips to the past but at the same time he was grateful they reminded him of what he needed to do, of what he had to be most wary of. Gateways to hell and those controlling them. The absolute direness revolving around these hellish contraptions. Evil spelt the name portal, sewing it in blood like a spellbound seamstress onto a cloth of doom.

"And why should I tell you anything? I don't know you. I don't even know your name." She started to walk back to the bench where her sword case lay on the ground.

"Aah, yes, forgive me, but I don't have the habit of giving my name on a first date. Since it usually outlives its usefulness," he teased with his trademark grin. Trying a different tactic to get the conversation going, Dante wanted answers. After all, she did look like she was about to run, run away from confrontation, or perhaps run away from the possibility of someone else dying. Too bad he picked the wrong approach, again, for he seemed to have gotten lost in translation as her reaction was less than receptive.

"Oh, forget it. I don't even know why I am still talking to you anyway." She picked up the leather bag irritably, and flung it over her shoulder.

Touchy are we. "Ok, Ok," he threw his arms out in a gesture of defeat. Maybe with her, he had to get smarter. She was as difficult as a hard nut to crack. He had to give something. "It's Dante, at your service," he bowed, his features relaxing into a pleasant, friendly cast.

"I sure hope not." I have to be alone. "I prefer to be alone," she said emphatically.

Strangely not surprising. But you wait. "So what's your name?" ignoring her impatient coldness, the hunter in red tilted his head the way he knew enticed an ice meltdown, and showed her his best redeeming smile as she started to walk past him, obviously intending to leave the park, and him, behind. Ah crap.

But she turned, to his surprise. "If I tell you, are you going to stop bothering me?" she asked tiredly, almost with routine rudeness as her eyes locked directly with his. She only now noted that they were the most beautiful and unusual shade of blue. Like a crisp iceberg in brightly shining sunlight. The more reason to never see him again, she thought grimly. It would be a real shame to see the bright life in those eyes flicker to nothing.

"Sure babe, whatever fills your," he paused to double-check her feet, "big boots. I am not accustomed to women begging me to leave them alone. Quite the opposite actually," Dante pouted and lifted his right hand to his heart to emphasize his pretend hurt. His smile was barely lingering though. This wasn't going how he wanted, no matter what he tried. He might even need to throw a plan together, but that was getting way too far ahead of himself.

Not believing how cocky this man was, she gazed at him open mouthed. What was wrong with him? He had seen the demons. He had said it himself, and he was still acting like they were never there or no big deal? How dead did he want to be before he got the message? Diced and sliced? If she told him her name, would he stop following her already and leave?

She let out a frustrated sigh, what he perceived as a first sign of progress. "Rain. My name is Rain."

"Rain? Like from up there?" Dante burst out as he looked up, letting out a hearty laugh. "That's sweet! It should have been you falling from the sky!" It came out before he could stop it. Not quite up to speed with his early adventures and not wanting to know either seeing that he wasn't taking her seriously, Rain dismissed him by a shake of her head, turned on her heels, and in a brisk walk made for the park exit.

Dante yelled after her, regretting his lack of planning, together with his freely jabbering mouth. "Oh come on! I was just kidding! It's a great name!"

She didn't stop this time. Dante watched her disappear in the streets on the north side of the park, then trotted off, back towards the row of houses lining the south side, his red coat flapping quietly behind.

Dante knew this was not the last time their paths would cross. His hunches never let him down. He was going to find out what was going on with those strange portals and whether they were just an accident or not. It was however very obvious to him that Rain, if that really was her name, was no novice when it came to demons and she was more than capable of facing them. Quite attractively efficiently too. She was also definitely human, or at least he could not detect any demonic aura around her.

He didn't worry, thinking he merely had to allow her some space. Women needed space to loosen up around men. She would start talking alright, they always did. He simply needed them to realize that they needed his help.

Well, there was no point dwelling on too much now. At least she had not shot him on site or, rather, tried to skewer him with her katana. In the guts…oh, the sweet memories...Dante mused absentmindedly running his hand over his rumbling stomach. Actually that made me feel hungry! I better make a pit stop on the way back. I almost forgot all about that.

His face hardened as he deliberated his next move. Planning was not his forte, but scheming was an entirely different kind of fish. Eyes lighting up, he remembered the increasing numbers of demons around the place, which may have been a coincidence, but they were here nonetheless. Judging from tonight, she would be back, and no human could handle biting more than they could chew, not when it came to big mouthfuls of demons. That was Dante's privilege. That is when she would learn that a little help now and then didn't hurt.

Counting on the shaky plan forming in his head, Dante decided to head home, abandoning the idea of a patrol. The more demons that were kept alive till tomorrow the better. She should be able to handle enough of them to just tire her out enough before he got there, just in time of course, to save her. All women loved to be saved, even Lady despite her perpetual denial. Every plan however first required a long, good night sleep and he as hell was going to get it.

The next day Dante slept till the afternoon; the sounds of the ringing phone well drowned in his deaf ears. The demons may have been bringing in the money, but nothing was worth getting up for early. Besides, he needed them all to push a certain damsel into at least a moderate distress.

Peeling off the bed as a pesky human need made him use the bathroom, Dante thought how quiet it was in the house. Even the whispers stayed still as if afraid of something larger about to come. Well, it wouldn't be long until his peace was interrupted again, by demonic nuisance or Lady, whichever was worse! And it wasn't as if Trish was coming home anytime soon, no matter how much he'd rather see her than Lady. So he might as well take it easy, and enjoy the calm before the storm.

Several pizzas, fifteen unanswered calls, two magazines, and five hours of TV later, it was time to head back out, seeing as the darkness coated the cold window panes, announcing the time of the prowls. It would be prudent to end this, whatever it was, before it escalated too far. Alarms of Vergil's recent visions still ringing loud in his mind, he didn't need another hell breaking loose, having had plenty of that to forget already.