Gunslinger. Swordmaster. Royal Guard. Trickster. Four styles he used in his fights, switching to whatever suited the situation the best. At this point, there weren't any decisive motives to show which he should settle on so he went on default, gunslinger. Guns at the ready was his usual style if he didn't know what else to do. Though just because he was ready to fire off his guns didn't mean they had to be in his hands. Gunslinger implied more than just running around firing off rounds at enemies. It spoke of the quick draw. The slapping of fingers against metal as hands clamped around the handles, sliding the two weapons out of their holsters with a flair of tossing a piece of paper from a pocket, as if discarding it. However, he never let go of his precious Ebony and Ivory. In fact, despite his rough handling of the two weapons, he knew that they could take whatever he asked of them. They were built for him, custom made. And out of all his previous engagements with guns, these two never gave out on him. The old lady, as he often called her, knew how to make guns, that was for sure.

A shadow of a smile fleeted on his lips at the thought of Goldstein before he scanned the dark room and its decaying guts. In some ways the setting was just like that of his other jobs, and in others, it swung onto the opposite side of the spectrum. The smell definitely was similar. The place reeked of stale air and mold. Made him wonder if air from outside ever made its way in. "Damn, I can't smell even straight. How the heck does he even live in a dump like this?" he muttered. Not caring what the man would say about it later, Dante flung Ebony out and shot a few consecutive rounds at the nearest window. If he was gonna be made to wait in this forsaken place, then dammit he was going to get some air he could actually live off of!

He lowered the gun, not really looking at his handiwork. The formerly cracked window had shattered under the barrage of bullets, letting in a welcomed breeze. It's what the guy got for making him come to this trash heap to get details for a job Dante would probably turn down anyway. "How'd he sucker me into this," he breathed. Normally he didn't take such calls. Then again, he never really got these kinds of calls. He received a job, though it didn't always turn out to be as straight forward as the original details suggested. However, expecting the unexpected wasn't a foreign concept in his line of work. He just found it annoying to not know what kind of crap he'd have to put up with.

Thinking back, it had been the manner of speech the man possessed that piqued Dante's interest. Though Dante had muttered aloud to no one in particular that he was only going because he was bored out of his mind. To anyone who knew him, this would seem out of character. He had his rules when it came to choosing jobs but today he blew them out of the window long enough to see what kind of job he'd lugged himself out into the middle of nowhere to find. "This whole thing better not be just a waste of my time."

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll find it to be quite interesting."

Dante turned to see who greeted him, finally able to match the voice from over the phone with a face. The man before him looked… well, half of what he was expecting really. He was partially stooped over, one hand resting over the top of a cane. Yet he stood straight enough that there was an air of dignity and pride about him. His black hair was peppered with grey and was cropped close to his head, making him look younger than he sounded considering how raspy his voice was. He wore a light button-up dress shirt and a pair of slacks with suspenders. Nothing too fancy and yet the guy managed to make it still somewhat formal. It seemed at odds with the house the man had chosen to take up residence in. If this was indeed his house. Maybe this was nothing more than a place for them to meet. There was no way for Dante to know, nor did he really care.

"So, Gramps, what about this is so interesting?"

The man just smiled at him and stepped closer, Dante realizing that the cane was merely an accessory. His gate was solid and he had no need to lean on it to prevent himself from stumbling. "Hmmm…" the man looked him over, his thoughtful exhale sounding more like the sigh of a great, old beast grunting to get up rather than the consideration he was obviously giving him. The next thing Dante knew was, there was a needle sticking in his neck, the man's hand withdrawing the syringe. He hadn't even seen the geezer shove it unceremoniously into his skin, much less feel the prick of the needle until it was too late.

"The hell?!" Dante stumbled back a little, leveling a gun on the man, holding where the needle had gone in with the other hand.

The man continued that smile of his. "For this particular job, you have to give up the physical body and entrust it to me." The man's image seemed to waver in front of Dante's eyes. He tried squinting; hoping for his sight to clear but it did him little good. "You needn't worry about it. You only need to focus on your mind and your spirit. Where you're going, I have little control over those things."

Dante shook his head a little, to help him focus, all the while keeping his gun trained on the man. "Mind cluing me in on what you're talking about? And while you're at it, explain that drug you just shot me up with!"

"You'll be in a coma…. within several seconds." It was the only answer Dante got before he fell to one knee.

Stubbornly, he struggled to fend off the impending darkness that edged his line of sight and made his thoughts and body sluggish and unwilling to obey his commands. "-The hell are you… doing to me…" With a sigh, he slumped forwards and collapsed onto the floor.

The man stepped over and took the weapon from Dante's limp hand, putting it next to its twin gun in the holster strapped to his back. He worked quickly, picking him up and taking him to a room just down the hall. There a bed waited, along with a computer and a head mounted display, which looked very much like a thin, light-weighted visor. The rest of the room was empty. He placed Dante on the bed and settled the HMD over the unconscious man's eyes. He then leaned over and with one hand dancing across the keyboard, signed onto the MMPORPG which he intended to trap Dante in.

He smiled as the page loaded. "Welcome to The World, Demonslayer_999."

Author's note: Okay, yeah. Kinda a cliché and loophole filled introduction. Lol! But I seriously couldn't help myself. I just liked the way this thing starts out. I'm not sure exactly how this story will end, exactly but I've an idea of where this goes next.

By the way, you don't have to be familiar with .hack or with DMC to actually enjoy this story. Or at least I'm hoping to make it like that. If you're a part of the fandom for one but not the other, well, like I said, doesn't matter. I was originally thinking of sticking Final Fantasy 7 in here as well, but that… is still up to debate… I'm not sure how that'd work. Eh. I probably won't, lol. We'll see.

Till next time!