A/N: It was gnawing at my brain. Ok maybe not gnawing, but certainly doing some kind of tapping of my skull, like people tapping pens on desks. Update-update-update-update...
So for once I've obeyed the voices in my head. I've updated this chapter, as promised in chapter 7 or which ever one it was. I feel like chocolate ---wanders off---
---munch---Right, here it is. A brand spanking new chapter 1 to reel in new readers.
The wind sang quietly through the cool summer night. And one would keep one's melodies soft if one were in the presence of a certain half-demon. The gentle breeze rustled Vergil's silvery hair as he gazed out at the view from the tower summit, eyes drifting lazily over the city.
Both hands resting on the hilt of Yamato, his faithful sabre. The samurai-like scabbard glinted with the souls thousands taken by the blade it stored. Virgil watched a red motorcycle and its rider snarl around the base of the Tower to disappear inside.
"It appears we have an uninvited guest," he murmured idly.
Now, Virgil was quite a sane devil (and rather intelligent too); he wasn't talking to himself.
A downright ugly man in his forties sat at the foot of a stone statue, quietly reading a little red leather-bound book. He was tall, bald and had the general appearance of an undertaker. Only up close could you see that he had heterochromia, bi-colour eyes. In his case, one eye was blue and the other brown.
But upon first glance, you couldn't miss the huge, reddish brown scar that dominated the right side of his face. It pulled that side of his mouth into a constant frown, but the expression was unnecessary: Arkham, being the servant of Vergil, was already a very grave man.
"Is that so?" he replied, closing the book. This was the game they played. Instead of ordering Arkham to kill everything in sight, Vergil would casually note a new being that came into view. Through their little word game, Arkham would receive instructions on how to deal with this new 'guest.'
"Yes," said Vergil. "A human. A woman."
"I'm afraid we should be rid of this…uninvited guest?" inquired Arkham, getting to his feet. "That is what you want…?"
Of course, sometimes the servant didn't get it. Once, Virgil had told him to 'give the demons a proper welcome' and had meant it quite literally. Instead, Arkham had promptly disposed of them, which resulted in a severe beating from his master.
I suppose it would strike one as odd to see a young lad in his twenties or so wielding such control over an older man, but – this was Vergil. A half-devil with demonic powers beyond Arkham's wildest dreams.
On top of that, he also commanded an icy character too; never smiling, never laughing, never breaking his china doll face. (And it was indeed like china – Vergil was quite the handsome murderous demon.)
Most frightening of all though, was that he very rarely raised his voice or lost his temper. When he did, it was like being thrown into a freezing river: the shock came from nowhere, and if you didn't act quickly, it could very well kill you. Vergil narrowed his glacial blue eyes in thought.
"Actually, I'd like to be acquainted with this woman," he muttered. Wondering what poor fate awaited the woman, Arkham nodded and made for the spiralling staircase. He looked up at the sky, watching the grey clouds slowly mass together.
"A storm is approaching," he mumbled, before disappearing down the steps. Virgil took no notice and pushed back the strands of hair the breeze had blown forward. He did not wish to look like that wretched brother of his.
Lady adjusted a heavy black missile launcher on her shoulder before pressing onward. She had just finished slaying roughly fifteen demons and the large weapon was becoming rather uncomfortable, as were the guns strapped around her legs.
The inside of the Tower was stony and cold; she wished she'd worn long pants. Then again, a loose, short skirt was easier to fight in – it allowed complete freedom of movement for kicking demon ass.
She surveyed the long flight of steps before her with beautiful, blue and brown eyes. People often did double takes when they saw her up close; it irritated her sometimes. If she were a silly bimbo, she would have agonised for hours over what eye shadow to wear. Lady would rather eat her own arm than turn into a barbie doll.
Stone effigies set with white flames lined one side of the twisting steps, and the other side was a solid stone wall carved with intricate engravings. She saw no potential danger, and proceeded.
In a cluttered storeroom, Arkham loaded a powerful tranquiliser gun with red feather-tipped darts. He knew exactly who he was going after. Only one woman had the courage, skills and determination to enter the Tower.
His daughter.
Without compassion or sign of emotion, Arkham locked the tranquiliser gun and set out after the demon hunter.
Dante, youthful face contorted in concentration, swept down the stone steps, red trench coat billowing behind his bare chest. He was Vergil's identical twin physically, but the resemblance stopped there.
Vergil and Dante were absolute polar opposites in character. SquareEnix and Rockstar could find more things in common. Most of the time Dante was the cocky yet ridiculously lazy guy always up for a joke. But sometimes, a bit of his brother would creep in, and he became very dangerous indeed.
He had to find a key of some sort to unlock a door upstairs. The lock was in the shape of a skull, but he couldn't just jam any old demon head in there…Dante's thoughts were interrupted by a shout and the familiar sound of safety locks clicking off.
Instinctively he drew his own pistols – Ebony and Ivory – and did the same. He found himself aiming at a young woman with short wavy brown hair, also holding twin pistols. She looked like she knew how to use them too, but what kind of threat was a woman?
"Are you…a demon?" asked Lady coldly, as if daring him to say yes.
"Well," sighed Dante, seeing her as no threat and twirling his guns around, "I'm half-demon, does that count?"
Without hesitation Lady fired three shots. Each bullet hit Dante square in the forehead, leaving little neat red holes. He gasped and spat a tiny gob of blood, then frowned. She grimaced in frustration and lowered her weapons a fraction. Anything with demon blood had to die.
"Hey, that wasn't very nice! You're trying to kill me just because I'm half-devil? That means I'm half-human too, babe," said Dante. The bullet holes healed over as he spoke. With a cry of outrage, Lady rushed at him, the handle of her gun drawn back.
Dante was ready for her. He stepped past her, easily dodging the attack. What he didn't dodge was Lady's flying heel.
Her boot connected with his jaw and sent him tumbling down the hard steps. Lady wasted no time enjoying her kick; she flew down after him, tucking her missile launcher under her arm as she ran.
Dante leapt up, only to find Lady right in front of him, her blue eye closed in aim.
"Dodge this."
The missile fired; Dante arched backwards, his head almost touching the floor. It was heat-seeking; he grinned as it rounded and sped towards him. The half-demon sprang up, landed on the missile and rode it like a surfboard, hooting in delight.
He could have jumped higher and let it splatter the woman all over the walls – but then she'd just be a pretty stain. Dante steered it toward an open window and jumped at the last second, the missile veering into the night sky and exploding harmlessly.
He hit the ground running and made for a corridor past the steps. Dante didn't have time to deal with demon hunters hell bent on exterminating him. He heard bullets whooshing past him, then something much larger flying above. Lady was somersaulting over his head in an attempt to block his path.
The half-demon caught her ankle in mid air. She swung round in front of him, dangling like a cute rag doll. Her missile launcher and guns clattered to the floor with the help of our good friend gravity. Dante flicked his silvery white hair out of his eyes and grinned.
"Let me go!" yelled Lady, twisting madly. She aimed a kick with her free leg and almost got him, but he caught it just in time. Her arms certainly couldn't reach any part of him, but she swung her fists just the same.
Arkham observed the interesting scene from his vantage point on a balcony. To an outsider, it looked like Dante was trying to shake Lady free of money like a cartoon bully in the schoolyard. He would wait for the devil to exit, and then make his move.
As Lady hung in front of Dante, chocolate hair falling into her mismatched eyes, punching and squirming, he thought of what an attractive demon hunter she was. Perhaps he could have a bit of fun with her later…
"OK, I'll let you down," he said after she had begun tire, "Only if you promise not to shoot when I walk away."
Lady stilled.
"I promise," she said immediately. Knowing there was no chance she'd keep her promise, Dante swung her up and into his arms. She stared at him in utter repulsion for a second before he crushed his lips to hers in a degrading kiss.
Lady shrieked with disgust and twisted from his arms, rolled on the ground picking up her guns on the way and opened fire on the laughing, fleeing half-demon.
"That was for lying!" he called as he disappeared down the corridor. She couldn't be bothered chasing him, or wasting too much ammo. There were other demons that needed slaying too.
Eventually, all was silent in the cavernous room again. Lady growled, muttering abuse under her breath as she retrieved her weapons and holstered them.
Still, she thought as she slung the missile launcher over her shoulder, he was pretty hot for a half-demon… what the fuck am I thinking! Although she scolded herself for even thinking that way about a devil, a tiny part of her had wanted that kiss to last longer – the passionate, lustful part.
But the rest of her – the stronger, determined part – had ordered her to jerk her head away and kill the filthy demon. Lady brushed the idea from her mind.
I am a demon hunter, she reminded herself as she loaded a fresh missile into the bazooka. Not some desperate skank.
Arkham settled the tranquiliser under his arm with ironic similarity to his daughter. Silently, he flipped open the scope and took aim, squinting his brown eye closed…
A spill of dust on the opposite balcony broke his concentration. Lady noticed it too and drew her pistols. More dust trickled through the banisters, and thirty or so hooded grey demons materialised, wielding gleaming sickles.
Ragged black robes hid their grotesque demon bodies and cast their faces (if they even had faces) in shadow. Vanguards. A low-class species of Vanguard, but a formidable opponent in numbers.
Arkham lowered the gun and sat down to watch this amusing predicament. Lady swore loudly and fired as the creatures leapt from the balcony, letting loose ear-piercing screeches. The demons rushed at her, slashing crazily.
She ran vertically up a pillar and backsaulted off, repeatedly pulling the triggers like there was no tomorrow. She landed and kicked at the nearest demon, shot another, sprung on her hands and lashed out with her heels – she was a flying fury of agility.
One demon gave a final scream and disintegrated into dust. Lady grabbed its fallen sickle and attacked, spinning it around in a windmill.
She released her hold and the blade soared through the air, impaling another devil. She fought and fought, driving the foul creatures back with fist, foot and gun.
After a while, the demons jumped backwards and decided to advance en masse. Lady was tiring, so she raised her pistols and squeezed the trigger.
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. They were out of bullets. Her hands flew to some other guns strapped around her legs.
CLICK. CLICK-CLICK.
Fear began to creep up her spine as she checked every gun.
CLICK. Empty.
CLICK. Empty.
Every magazine used up.
The demons circled her and pressed forward slowly, raising their sickles in triumph. Trying to stay calm, she swung her missile launcher around and stabbed at the creatures with the bladed end. It was a clumsy weapon - they avoided it easily and continued towards her. She couldn't fire a missile now; she'd be blown to bits at this range.
Lady was not going down without a fight. She dropped the launcher and struck out with her fists, punching any demon that got too close. This generated a 'one step forward, two steps back' effect.
She knew in her heart that she couldn't hold them off forever without any weapons. Eventually her muscles would cramp and wear out, she would lose her breath, and the then the demons would strike.
Little did the demon hunter know, her father was preparing to shoot the devils down if they began to hurt her. Virgil had asked to see her, and Arkham was quite sure this time his master had meant while she was still alive. He could see his daughter's great strength waning, and readied the sniper rifle he'd brought along just in case.
Lady's breath rasped in her throat as she fought tooth and nail, trying to keep the demons at bay. She had slain many, and now another one crumbled to powder, its blade clanging to the ground just out of her reach. Lady slipped on the dust and a sickle glanced her left side, tearing through her white shirt and into her skin.
She screamed and ducked as the devils, spurred by her injury, slashed more feverishly. She couldn't fight much longer…the demons were closing in for the kill…Arkham's finger wrapped around the trigger…Lady closed her eyes and cursed herself for not lasting longer…
Suddenly the sounds of twin gunfire made her open her eyes and look around wildly. Eight demons disintegrated, their remains scattering all over her. Lady didn't care; she saw a blur of red material, and a gun flying towards her.
She snatched it from the air and shot at the grey demon in front of her, dimly aware of the silver-haired man at her back, firing away. The devils jumped and sprang about, trying to avoid the onslaught of bullets, but Dante and Lady followed them in perfect symmetry.
"So, what's your name?" yelled Dante over the sound of their gunfire.
"I don't have one," replied the demon hunter loudly.
"OK, then what do I call you?"
"I don't care, call me whatever you want!"
"Whatever, Lady." With that, Dante somersaulted over her head, landing very close in front of her, and fired right past her ear. The demon behind her screeched and crumbled. Lady shot at the demon past Dante's ear and it disintegrated in a similar fashion.
The two gunners lowered their weapons and stood still for a moment, feeling the heat from each other's bodies. Lady stepped back quickly, avoiding his gaze.
"Here," she said bluntly, and thrust the borrowed gun at him. Dante put up a hand.
"Keep it, it's only my spare. There's an ammo stash up those stairs," he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to the stone steps. He stepped back too and grinned, folding his arms.
"You seem to keep running into me. You want a date?"
Lady trained the gun on him and snorted. He had run into her.
"Date a demon? I'm not that desperate," she sneered.
Dante arched an eyebrow, his grin fading.
"Yeah? Well I don't date women who shoot me in the head," he fired back, tapping his forehead.
Lady shook the greyish devil dust from her hair and looked at him as if he were an irritating child that refused to go outside to play.
"Don't you have some place to be?" she said sluggishly, before, to Dante's peaked interest, unbuttoning the bottom half of her shirt. She glanced at his leering expression and rolled her eyes before ripping off a large piece of material and wrapping it around the wound from the devil's sickle. The ripped shirt revealed a flat, taut stomach, a flawlessly creamy colour except for the terrible gash above her hip.
"Yeah. Yeah, I do," said Dante, tearing his eyes away and heading for the same doorway he had exited only a few hours earlier. Except this time, he wasn't running.
A/N: It is done! ---dances--- Click on that chapter select button, coz I've updated chapter two as well!