A Futile Second Chance

[Dante's Stalker]

Dedicated to:
Pillowmagic - my inspiration
Zany Blac - my drive​

Brief summary:
Dante gets stuck raising a kid he denies having any relation to, despite everyone else very boldly pointing out that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. When Nero barges into Devil May Cry and accuses Dante's teenage son of stealing Yamato, it reinforces Dante's suspicion that he was right all along.
But then, maybe things aren't exactly as they seem…

This story is pretty damn layered, it's not just another 'Dante's a dad' fic because the plot twist hasn't been done before. For the record, I own Ali (she's my OC) And no, I don't own Enji. He's totally and completely Capcom copyright... I just changed his name to fit in with the story. I've left hints about where this fic is going all over the place, and most of what goes on before the real action starts is going to be a bit ironic. You'll see what I mean.

Read, review, and I won't disappoint – devil's honour!

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Happy Birthday

The weather was miserable and damp outside the warmth of the brightly lit diner. Icy blue eyes shifted from the grey downpour on the concrete outside, to the nearly finished vanilla sundae coated with sliced up strawberries in front of him. He dug a spoon into the creamy mound and rested his elbow on the table, studying the heap of ice cream for a moment.

"Happy birthday, Vergil." Dante muttered, and shoved the spoon into his mouth. He slouched back in the leather booth with a long sigh of contentment. Strawberry sundae bliss.

"Another one, Dante?" A curvaceous girl in a striped pink uniform rollerbladed over to him, chomping on gum and flashing him a warm smile.

"Nah…okay, you persuaded me. One more, and don't be shy with the strawberries, Cindy." Dante said.

"Coming right up." Cindy giggled and rolled away.

Dante watched her go with a grin before turning to look out the window beside him once more. Funny. It always seemed to be crap weather on this day. Although it was by all means a gloomy day – commemorating the remembrance of his misguided and deceased brother – Dante felt rather chipper.

His needs were fulfilled in every possible way. Trish provided the emotional nurturing he needed; the occasional warm-blooded women took care of his sexual desires; and hunting completed his daily dose of spiritual healing and physical exercise. He was in a good place. His life was balanced. And today was a damn good excuse to take the day off – something Dante didn't do all that often.

He devoured his second sundae that morning, and hailed a cab back to the Devil May Cry shop. He kicked the door shut behind him and sauntered over to the cheap red leather couch before dropping into it. In between jobs he liked to take a breather. Bring himself down from the high of another job well done, clear his head, give his body the chance to recuperate whatever damage it had encountered. And just chill out before business beckoned once more.

He needed today, after the hellish week he'd had. He was always chasing after one or the other evil, always on the move, always working. He loved his work – it encompassed his being. It was his purpose, and it was his life – it was his everything. Not to bloat his own turkey, but he was the best in his line of work. Many who were in the business knew this, which is why there was always another job cued up and waiting for him when he would return from a mission.

It was also why all the high ranking demons tried to kill him at every given opportunity. He'd been dodging a lot of them this past week, more than the norm he was accustomed to.
Hence the fact that today, shop was closed and Dante could relish in the lethargy that solitude brought. He did a lot more work than people gave him credit for. It wasn't his fault that customers happened to catch him every time he was down and out on the couch. So it came as no surprise that he was just dozing off when a loud, perfunctory knock came on his door.

"Shop's closed." Dante called out. He popped open one lazy eye when there was another knock. "Can't you read the sign, ****head?" He said louder.

There was a quiet shuffling outside the door, and then nothing but the steady whir of the ceiling fans spinning. He closed his eye with a tired sigh, shifted on the couch to get more comfy, and waited. He could still sense somebody outside. Why they didn't just turn and leave, or come barging in, didn't worry him that much – in his line of duty job requests were never done over a cup of coffee.

Dante was on his feet and striding toward the door the same instant the knocking started up again, this time more insistent and irritating. He flung the door open, ready to either blow someone's head off or wrench them inside for interrogation, and was faced with an empty street. He stepped outside, red trench coat gently swaying in the cool breeze, and warily scanned up and down the road with cool eyes. There was nowhere to hide, and no human could have run fast enough for him to miss. He turned and walked backwards, squinting up at the roof of his building. There was nothing anywhere near his shop.

Weird.

He gave the street another slow, assessing glance to catch any flurry of movement. There was none. "Well that's annoying," Dante muttered, putting his head down to march inside when his eye happened to catch on a small package laid out on the bottom step. It was a rolled up patchwork blanket of dirty wool and green fleece, about the length of his forearm, and something inside of it was stirring.

Dante sent another weary glance around. Damn, he really wanted to chill out today. He gave the package a critical stare. He somehow knew he really didn't want to see what was inside.
"Sweet, a present for me?" He called out to the entity that was hiding from him. "I'm touched you remembered it's my birthday. Now how about you come show your face so I can give you a proper thanks?"

He looked around, waiting, and let out a dissatisfied grunt. "Fine, you want to play that game…"
He crouched down and snatched the corner of the blanket up. It unleashed the awful stench of excrement, and Dante flung it aside with a shudder of disgust. Something coated in a mixture of blood and black-green tarry gunk rolled out onto the wet concrete sidewalk.

Dante had Ivory out of her holster and aimed at the thing before it even came to a complete stop. He didn't recognize what it was straight away. Not until a very heartfelt cry emanated from the open mouth, the little nude body trembling with every scream. He stared at it for another moment before putting away his weapon.

"This isn't any orphanage, lady!" He yelled as a fresh wave of annoyance crashed over him. He waited another drawn out moment, hoping the infant's screams would work its charm on the maternal instincts of the woman he knew had to be watching him from somewhere.

The cries heightened in pitch and volume, turning into sharp forks of unbearable sound poking into his eardrums. Dante stooped and carefully picked up the slippery little thing, holding it at arm's length as he marched back into the shop, grumbling unhappily. He found a semi-clean hand towel and wrapped it around the baby. It went beyond his logic how such a tiny being could produce such ear splitting volume. The baby couldn't be more than a few hours old – the cord was still attached.

Dante held the bundle against his chest while he punched a number into the antique phone, cradling the receiver between his shoulder and ear. He got the number wrong the first time – he was very rarely the one doing the calling – and only got it right the second time round.

The ringing cut off quickly. "Morrison," a voice came back in his ear.

"I need a ride." Dante said, grimacing down at the baby in the crook of his arm. Its screams were nearly overlapping one another in agonized distress. Dante added, "Right now."

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Problem Solved

Morrison couldn't have pitched up any sooner. Dante had the passenger door open and was sliding into the seat before the car had come to a complete stop. He slammed it shut, and sent an impatient glare at the older man. Morrison was clothed in an immaculate brown suit, the picture of upper business class.

"Get me to the orphanage," Dante snapped over the sound of loud wailing.

"What did you get yourself into this time?" Morrison said, sending an alarmed glance at the bundle in Dante's arms. He pulled away from the curb with a shriek of wheels.

"Someone left it on my doorstep." Dante said defiantly. "I didn't get into anything."

"They must have gotten mixed up. The orphanage is on the other side of town." Morrison said.

"Are you kidding? They had to be blind to miss my sign. Devil May Cry doesn't remotely sound like an orphanage, or charity," Dante grumbled.

"Maybe it's another invitation for a job? It's not a demon, is it?"

"Don't think so. There wasn't a note. Someone's just taking a **** at me."

"There must be a reason why they chose to leave it at your shop."

"Yeah, well, I'm not interested. I just want to get this off my hands." Dante said, eyeing the small slime ball wearily. "Got a damn good pair of lungs on you, don't you, kid?"

The drive to the orphanage felt like an eternity. When the nondescript red brick building came into view, Dante's head was about ready to pop off his shoulders. He threw the door open and jogged up the steps. A neat 'welcome' mat was laid outside the door, and Dante resisted the urge to leave the baby right there. He pushed the door open and stepped into a clean and inviting room with brightly painted walls and a plush seating area. He strolled over to the counter with reception engraved across white plywood.

An old woman with a tidy grey bun peeked up at him with sharp eyes from behind a pair of spectacles. She dropped the pile of paperwork on the desk when Dante nearly shoved the baby at her.

"What on earth-"

"Just take it!" Dante said.

The old woman obeyed, her wrinkled face crunching up even more when she frowned down at the small crying bundle. "My word!"

Dante turned around and headed for the door, glad to have someone else deal with this problem.

"Nina! Nina, stop him!" The old woman's voice piped up.

Dante stuck in his tracks when a familiar young woman appeared out of nowhere and blocked his exit. He sent a withering glance at the old woman, and then curiously studied the lady in front of him.

"Well. Didn't expect to see you here." Dante said.

"Likewise. What are you doing here?" Nina asked, blue doe eyes blinking back at him in bewilderment. "Not a job, I hope?"

"I understand you have most likely never done this before," the old woman snapped and spun Dante around with a surprisingly firm hand. "But this is not the way we do these things. There is paperwork to be filled out, signatures to be given over, files from the hospital to be transferred here. You don't just walk in, drop off your child, and think you can disappear without a word!"

"That's not my kid, lady," Dante narrowed his eyes down at the woman, and wrenched his arm free of her grip. "Somebody left it by my front door. You people deal with these things all the time, so deal with it."

"Well!" the old woman huffed, and marched off, murmuring to the still screaming baby, "don't you worry, little one, we'll get you all cleaned up and fed..."

"Someone just left it for you?" Nina asked, and Dante turned his attention back to her with a shrug. "That's odd."

"You don't say." Dante said, and casually leaned his shoulder against the wall. "You work here?"

"I'm a volunteer in my free time. I figured I had to surround myself with kids, because I love children. Patty's at school so I thought I'd spend my time well by doing something normal." Nina said, studying him evenly.

"How is the little brat?" Dante asked in mock idleness. Truth was, he really did give a damn about the squirt.

"She's doing well. You know, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be able to have the life we have now."

"Tch, yeah, well..." Dante said awkwardly. He wasn't very good at thank yous – that was normally settled in a wad of green bills and a happy client. "She's happy, which isn't something I could say when she was staying with me. I'm not easy to live with."

"So I've heard." Nina said with an amused grin.

"Nina! A little help please!"

Both heads turned toward the door the old woman had disappeared through. "Coming, Maizy!" Nina called back, and exchanged looks with Dante.

"I gotta get going anyway." Dante said. "Stuff to do, you know."

"We need to catch up soon. Patty would love to see you again." Nina nodded him a farewell, and glided from the room.

Dante watched her go, the hem of her ankle length creamy dress swaying gracefully with her every step. He lingered for a second longer before stepping back out into the overcast afternoon. He got into the car beside Morrison, slammed the door, and leaned his head back against the seat for a moment.

"You okay?" Morrison asked, starting the engine.

"Just savouring the silence." Dante said, and closed his eyes.

 

[DreadnoughtDT]

Wow... Dante's gonna have his hands full with THAT little bundle of joy... Lucky day, and it happened on Vergil's birthday, too... Wait. Is this what I think it is? Does it being Vergil's birthday have any significance? MOAR! Da questions need answers! ^_^

All in all, a good, solid start. Great work, Cv!

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Rumours1/2

~...~

Routine was back in place the next day. Dante woke up five minutes before shop opened for the day – to do his habitual disassembling of Ivory and Ebony for a good clean while in bed - and was still sleepily dragging himself down the iron stairwell when the phone sang out to him. He hoisted himself over the railing with ease and went to perch on the edge of the wide desk, snatching the receiver up smoothly.

"Devil may cry." He said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes tiredly. He expected it to be Morrison – he was the only guy gutsy enough to call this early on in the day – but the voice that slipped into his ear was unfamiliar, female, and the password was the first word she uttered. His eyes lit up as she tactfully told him where to meet her for a more personal briefing on the case. "On my way."

Dante shrugged on his coat and straightened it out, positioned Rebellion on his back, holstered his guns and flung the front door open to greet a new day. It was a beautiful morning, an autumn fire that turned everything into blood and gold. He got as far as setting his foot over the threshold when his eye landed on the blue and white baby seat pristinely placed directly in his path.

"Another one?" Dante said. He scanned the area briefly, and let out an angry growl. "This is getting old real quick!" He called out. He waited for a response of some sort, got none, and scooped the seat up by the handle. "Somebody really wants my boot up their ass." Dante mumbled, moving swiftly to his motorbike. He fixed the seat in front of him, revved the engine, and took off in a streak of red.

He glimpsed down once during his mad dash across town, and did a double take when two midnight blue eyes stared back at him from between the soft folds of the blankets. The gaze carried an accusing look – but that was stupid. He was letting himself feel guilty, and for no damn good reason. He was doing the kid a favour in his opinion.

The orphanage loomed up ahead, and Dante pulled to a halt with a burn of rubber and a squeal of tyres. He carried the baby seat to the front door and put it down. "Sorry, kid. I've got work to do." Dante said, and felt a tinge of regret. It was kinda cute, now that it wasn't screaming at him. He straightened up, jabbed at the doorbell, and mounted his bike. He was pulling onto the road when the door swung open.

He knew the location the woman had directed him to – it was several miles out of bounds from the city. Dante didn't go there very often. Part of him recognized the possibility of a trap, but if whatever evil was behind this clever scheme thought he was going to be caught off guard, they had another thing coming. He pulled up outside the grim graveyard and sat for a moment, eyes roaming over the ocean of white tombstones. The silence veiling the abandoned area was thick and deafening.

Dante slowly climbed off the bike and trailed over to the entrance of the graveyard. He leaned his hands on the stone wall and peeked through the black iron bars at the hushed graves. He hadn't set foot on these grounds since he was a kid. It was a tranquil place, a silent, isolated place for reflecting on the past, and for reliving faded memories.

He wandered through the gates, expecting to be sucked into one or the other malicious re-enactment of his past. He waited to hear the haunting echoes of screams and cries, but the only ones he heard were of his own memories surfacing in his mind. Dante blocked it with a mental hand, and extended his senses instead. His walk was casual and carefree, but he was aware of his surroundings, prepared to fend off an ambush at a moment's notice.

There was no one else in the graveyard with him. By the looks of it, it hadn't seen any company for a long time. Dante waited for someone to show up – to either give him information, or attack him. It was unusual that they hadn't by now. Something was definitely going on. He ambled past the tombstones, each a white marble duplicate of the one before, until he was well and lost between them. It had grown a bit – last time he was here, the newest two graves carried the names of his people. There were no colourful bouquets anywhere to be seen, the ground was layered with rotting old leaves, and the grass was overgrown and dead. Life hadn't come to visit the dead in decades.

It was by chance that Dante happened to catch the Ve embossed on one tombstone to his left. He crouched down and pushed the weeds and grass aside to reveal the name. Vernon. He didn't know whether to be relieved or angry that it wasn't the one he was looking for. Was he looking for it? Dante rose to his feet with an unpleasant scowl on his face. What was he doing? He had work to do, damn it. This was no time to dwell on things better left buried.

He walked aimlessly through the graveyard for another moment, and was about to call it quits when his eye landed on a sunken grave. Finally. Something. He drew Rebellion and pointed it at the hole.

"Don't be shy, there's a welcome party waiting for you." Dante coaxed, and frowned. The ground was dry around the edges, crumbling into the hole. There were no signs that it had been made recently. It was an old grave. Dante knelt down and pushed the grass away from it to get a better view, holding Rebellion at the ready. There. Fingers had dug deep into the ground where the corpse had lifted itself out of its tomb. The impressions in the ground were clear – and small. Small hands. A child then – this was going to be a piece of cake. It had to be hiding here somewhere, watching him. Dante straightened up and glanced around.

"Come on, kiddo. I know you're here somewhere. Don't be scared, I just want to play. Come on out, eh," Dante called out, and used the side of his boot to push down the weeds growing up against the tombstone, eyes looking for a name. His words died on his lips when the name screamed back up at him. "Vergil."

Dante staggered away from the grave as though the name itself had dealt him a deadly blow. He stared at it for a long time before moving to the grave beside it. The three letters embossed across it chased away any denial that it was just another Vergil. Dante sank down on his mother's grave, and stared at the old hole in his brothers'.

"****. No wonder you were all messed up." Dante breathed out. It made him regret not coming back to visit the site very often. If he'd come back, a week, a day, or every day after they were laid to rest – he could have been there. He could have been right there when his brother had to claw his way out of a grave. Hell, how that could have changed the course of history. If only he had the ability to turn back time...

"There you are!" A snide female voice chided.

Dante glanced up and climbed to his feet when Lady came charging at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been turning the city upside down looking for you, you dumbass." Lady said, her face flushed and her chest heaving. Her multi-coloured gaze darted from the gravesite to Dante, and she softened her tone slightly. "You don't know, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" Dante asked impatiently.

"That every demon in the vicinity is out to kill you right this moment." Lady said tiredly. "I thought you might need some backup. But, uh... what are you doing here?"

"I got set up." Dante said flatly, dusting off his coat and sheathing Rebellion. "Besides, I can take care of myself. Your concern is touching, though."

"Don't be stupid, Dante," Lady narrowed her gaze at him, her voice sharpening. "They've found a way to kill you for good. Or so the rumours go."

"I'd like to see them try." Dante said, and gestured around the silent graveyard. "As it is, no one seems to have the guts to give it a shot."

Lady shifted her weight and folded her arms across her chest. "You're so conceited. This is big, Dante. They're all rallying together to take you down."

"Yeah? Where?" Dante huffed. "I've been itching for a fight all day."

"They're taking the city apart looking for you." Lady said. "Your store is in a bit of a mess. Now, are you coming?"

"There's no pay for this, is there?" Dante asked unhappily, brushing past her toward the exit of the graveyard.

"You'd better hope there is. You still owe me a ****load of money." Lady said, falling in stride beside him.

They sped back to the city, and were greeted with people scattering in every direction, screaming their lungs out. Demons blundered through the streets, diving through windows and ripping out doors. Dante headed for the biggest of the lot – a sludge ball with green scales and too many tentacles to his liking.

"Hey, ugly! Heard you're looking for me." Dante called out to it, drawing out Ebony and Ivory as the demon whirled to face him.

"You!" It gurgled in a distorted, thunderous voice.

"Come on, then! You want me dead, here I am. Now let's get to the killing already!"

The demon backed away from him, burbling with manic laughter. "I am not going to fight you, son of Sparda! We have other means of bringing about your demise."

"Yeah, what's that? You're not going to sit on me, are you?" Dante asked, eyeing the large mass of demon warily.

"He does not have it!" a slimy purple demon with skinny limbs climbed up onto its master's shoulder.

"Find it! It is unprotected! Find it!" The larger demon roared, and demons scattered in obedience.

Dante stared up at the demon for a puzzled second before a glowing fireball shot past him. The demon had no time to react before the blow hit, sending demon gore raining down.

"Hey!" Dante spun on Lady, who was preoccupied with shooting at another cluster of demons.

"Get your lazy ass to work!" Lady shouted back over her shoulder.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Rumours 2/2

"This is why I prefer to work alone." Dante muttered, and fired a dual of bullets on the scampering lesser demons. They fought well into the afternoon until Dante got rid of the last pest with a swing of Rebellion.

"Don't think I'll be getting any jobs again anytime soon. We just took out a whole damn city of these things." Dante said, twisting his blade through the demon's gut before it imploded into a gust of dirt.

"You'd better come up with something then. I want a quarter of my money by the end of next week." Lady said, and with that she turned away from him. Dante watched her climb on her bike and take off without another word.

"Women." Dante mumbled, and made his own way back to the shop. Lady had been right. The building was a mess. Not to the point where it could no longer be saved, thankfully, but his pool table was crushed like a concertina, his vintage jukebox was flat on its face, and his desk had been tipped over. His eyes darted to the sword mounted on the wall, untouched. If it had been demons raiding his place, Sparda's sword would be gone and there'd be nothing left standing.

Demons had no concept of valuing property. Yet his shop was still in one piece, and nothing had been taken. They must have been looking for something he didn't have. Dante went to straighten his desk, and picked up the framed photograph. The glass was cracked, but the photo inside unharmed. He'd have to get it a new frame. **** – with what money?

"Damn it." Dante spat, and straightened up when the front door clicked shut. He hadn't heard it open, and he rose to his feet, ready to slaughter whatever demon he'd missed. There was no one in the shop, and the only thing out of place was the blue and white baby seat right inside the door.

Dante streaked across the room and hurled himself outside, eyes wildly scanning for the perpetrator. "I've got a lot on my damn plate as it is! Come get your kid before I shoot it!" Dante shouted, oblivious to people on the sidewalks staring at him like he'd just escaped the loony bin. Dante chuckled in a release of anger. "Fine. I'll just do what I did before until you get the picture!"

Dante headed back into Devil May Cry, and once again dialled his partner.

"Morris..."

"It's back again." Dante cut him off brusquely.

"I'm on my way." Morrison said and hung up.

The drive to the orphanage took far too long this time. They had to take alternate routes to get through the destruction the attack had caused earlier, and every traffic light seemed to hold them up.

"Want me to drop it off?" Morrison asked when he parked outside the orphanage.

"No. I need some answers." Dante said.

"Be polite," Morrison called after him when Dante grabbed the baby seat and for the second time that day jogged up the steps.

He barged into the room without knocking, and put the baby seat down on top of the counter. Old Maizy glanced up at him, and sighed when her gaze landed on the baby seat.

"This kid isn't crawling his way over to my shop every time." Dante said to her reserved expression.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Who picked up the baby? Because whoever the idiot is that keeps abducting it, keeps abandoning him on my doorstep, and it's starting to grind me." Dante said, thrusting his thumb at the sleeping infant.

"I don't understand. Wait one moment, deary," Maizy shook her head, and turned to call in a feeble voice. "Nina? Nina!"

Nina poked her head through a backdoor, and walked over with a startled and somewhat grim expression when she spotted Dante. "Who fetched this baby, dear?" Maizy asked.

"Well, you did," Nina said, giving Dante a puzzled glance. "Early this morning."

"I damn well didn't." Dante contested.

"Yes, you did." Nina scowled. "You left him outside on the doorstep, and I brought him inside, and you came barging back in here like you did just now to take him back. Don't tell me you've changed your mind again?"

"Look, lady, I left the kid out there, and took off. I did not come back in here. I don't want it."

"You were a lot more charming this morning." Nina said with a slight pout. "You made it quite clear that you intended to keep him, Dante."

"You sure it was me?" Dante said. "Because I wasn't in the city this morning."

"Of course. How many people are out there who look exactly like you?" Nina asked, momentarily amused. "Look, fine. If you want to leave him here and take the night to think about what it is you really want, you're more than welcome to. Just know that one way or the other, it's permanent. You can't keep changing your mind like this."

"Hah, funny, I don't intend to," Dante growled. "Keep the kid here. Got it?"

He didn't wait for a response. Dante slammed the door shut behind him, and gave Morrison a wave of disregard. "I need to walk off some steam. Catch you tomorrow." Dante said, giving him a quick salute through the open window before turning in the direction of Devil May Cry.

The walk didn't help him cool down. If anything, it just made him feel worse, especially when the dark clouds above decided to wring out their tears and soak him to the bone. Cold and drenched, he shook off his coat upon stepping back into the shop, and spread it out on a coat hanger to dry.

He walked right past the messy contents of his home, stripping off his clothes as he went. He was nude by the time he reached the bathroom, and he got into the shower to wash away the chill on his skin. The water beating down his back was delicious, rinsing off any traces of dried blood and demon gunk. He'd call and order a pizza, crack open some tomato juice, put his feet up and recover from the rigors of battle with a good dose of sleep. That ought to be a good end to a not-so-bad day.

He found a clean pair of jeans to wear, and ran his hands roughly through his hair to shake out most of the water when he opened the bathroom door. Something tripped him and sent him crashing hard onto the floor. Dante flipped onto his back, surprised, and stared.

There were no words. Dante let out a furious roar, pumping his fist into the floor angrily before picking up the phone and dialling three digits. He waited impatiently, foot tapping on the floor, and his eyes were icy and hard as he glared at the baby seat sitting mockingly outside his bathroom door.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Get me a squad car to the Devil May Cry, right now. Someone keeps dumping trouble in my lap, and I have had enough."

"Could you state exactly what the problem is..."

"The problem is, if you don't get the police here in the next ten minutes, I'm going to shoot myself." Dante snapped and slammed the phone down, glowering at the baby. It blinked back at him innocently. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm sorry your parents don't want you, but I'm not the solution here."

 

[DreadnoughtDT]

Jeez... You'd think Dante would stop being so thickheaded, but, well, that's Dante for you.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Jeez... You'd think Dante would stop being so thickheaded, but, well, that's Dante for you.

lol...yeah, he is an idiot, isn't he? *huggles fictional character* hehehehe^_^

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Demands 1/2

Unfortunately for Dante, he hadn't thought clearly in his fit of rage while making the phone call. It was no wonder that three police cars came to a screech outside Devil May Cry, and a small fleet of armed police officers broke down his front door. Dante straightened up from his desk, reached for his guns in confusion – and felt something sharp hit him in the arm. He looked down at the small dart protruding from his bicep, and ripped it out with an aggravated snort.

All feeling left his arm, and it hung like a piece of dead meat on him. "Ow, ****, that stings! I didn't mean I was literally going to shoot myself, you idiots." Dante scowled, flopping back in his chair. "It was a figure of speech!"

"Strange figure of speech if I ever heard one," one of the officers said, edging closer cautiously. "You unarmed?"

"Yeah," Dante said, lifting his lifeless arm and dropping it on the desk with a loud thud. "Pretty much."

A couple of the police officers lowered their weapons at his response, and the tension in the room dissipated slowly. "What did you call us out for?"

"That." Dante nodded at the baby seat beside him on the floor. "Someone has been dropping the baby off here since yesterday, and no, it's not mine."

"That's kind of strange. Did you take it to the orphanage?"

"Did I take it to the orphanage," Dante repeated with a cold chuckle. "Of course I took it to the damn orphanage. Somehow it just ends up back here at my place."

"Sure you're not the father? Kind of looks like you." One of the officers commented, crouching down to take a better look at the baby. "Maybe the mom decided to ditch you with the dirty work."

"Like I said, it's not mine." Dante said dangerously. The officer grabbed the baby seat before backing away quickly.

"We'll handle this. It won't happen again, I assure you." The officer – the one Dante thought had shot him with the mild tranquilizer – added before closing the door behind his fleet.

"Guess there's a first time for everything," Dante muttered, lifting and dropping his hand again curiously. Tranquilizers. Didn't have that one before – and they got him in his good sword arm too. He clenched and unclenched his fingers as feeling returned, and relaxed back in the goth-style chair.
What a day. If it got any more exciting, he was going to crack a coronary.

It seemed all the excitement had fizzled out, though. He got his double pizzas on time – the delivery guy didn't even mention his growing tab – the tomato juice went down nicely, and he enjoyed a relatively quiet evening until he rammed a fist into his old jukebox to get it working again. He was crawling into bed when the sound of the front door being flung open made him drop his head into a pillow. "Gah dammit..." He mumbled into the downy softness.

Slow, heavy footsteps creaked across the wooden floor. Shuffling. A soft thud. Dante didn't budge until he heard a firm step on the iron stairs. He rolled off the bed, grasping his twin guns in the process, and moved toward the door in a crouch. "I'm going to get you, you bastard..." Dante whispered, and kicked his door open.

There was no one on the stairs. No one in the shop, for that matter, except once again, the baby seat left on one of his cheap leather couches. Dante held himself ready and guarded, and didn't put away his guns until he'd searched every corner of the store. He seized hold of the baby seat once more, and took his bike to the orphanage.

It was nearly midnight when he arrived, shoving the door open unceremoniously and plunking the baby seat down on the counter again. Maizy looked as annoyed to see him as he felt to be there.

"What the hell is going on here? I told you to keep it, or didn't you get the message when the police showed up?" Dante demanded.

"What police?" Maizy asked disdainfully. "There was no police here. And you, sir, made it quite clear that you were going to keep that child when you fetched him earlier tonight."

"Oh, I did?" Dante said.

"In a don't-disagree-with-me-or-there-will-be-the-hell-to-pay way, yes. Now I told you before, we're not taking that child in again. You can't bounce around like this, your indecisiveness will cause that baby a lot of harm." Maizy chided sternly. "Just accept your responsibility."

"Hey, I'm not in the habit of going around and knocking up ladies, granny. Take it, or I'll leave it outside."

"Go ahead. It will most likely just end up back in your care, any way."

"Okay. You know what? Next time I come back in here to take this baby, you tell me to go screw myself." Dante snarled in her face. "And you tell him...me, that if I have to find that child back in my shop, I'm going to lose my cool, and do something he'll... I'll regret. Got it?"

Maizy stared back at him blankly. Dante spun around and rushed out onto the street. His bike was taking a beating today as he opened up and sped recklessly through the dark, quiet streets. He pulled up at the bar, and ordered a couple of cold beers before he could stomach going back to the shop. He was afraid the baby would be back there when he returned.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Demands 2/2

The weather was unusually murky when he left the bar a few hours later. The stars and moon were hidden behind low, black and brooding clouds. Lightning blitzed through the air, and thick rain hung in the atmosphere. He took a slow drive back to the shop, and sat for a long time outside on his bike, just staring at the silent blind windows.

Dante did a thorough scan of the surrounding area before he finally – finally – entered the shop. He flicked on the lights, eyes coolly assessing the still quite jumbled appearance of his place. He breathed out a sigh of relief when nothing blue or white was anywhere to be seen.

"Maybe they got the message." Dante said, and closed the door behind him. He ought to invest in an alarm of some sort – give pricks who kept coming in here uninvited a good scare. But then, where would he find the cash for something fancy like that? Besides, he could scare them off just with himself...

His thoughts crashed to a halt when half-way across the room, lightning struck nearby, shaking the walls, and all power went out.
"Oh, great!"
Dante whirled around into a crouching position, one leg extended to use his weight for collateral movement in any direction to avoid an attack, Ebony and Ivory drawn and aimed – all in one swift, stealthy move the same instant the front door snapped open angrily. Lightning illuminated the baby seat smack in the middle of the doorframe, sitting there like an eerie silhouette. Dante's eyes narrowed as he waited for the assault. He could feel someone else there – or some thing. He could almost touch its fury; breathe in its power. No smell, though, and there was no sound. He'd have to rely on his other senses to locate the demonic presence.

His breath stilled in his chest, every inch of his body became rigid, and he waited, eyes focussed on the doorway. For a moment there was nothing. Dante opened his mouth, to challenge and provoke the creature out of hiding, when hands suddenly grabbed hold of his from out of nowhere and twisted his wrists painfully. The guns clattered to the floor, and Dante yanked free of the grip, at the same time swinging his leg in a wide arch. Flesh connected with flesh as he swiped his opponent right off their feet. They crashed to the floor with a quiet 'oomph'. Dante unsheathed Rebellion in a fraction of a second, fully intent on turning his attacker into a pile of red ribbon, but it moved even faster than him. It was on its feet and stumbling away from him. By the little Dante could tell in the dark, it looked about his own size.

Dante didn't miss a beat. He advanced on his attacker with purpose in his stride, and pulled Rebellion back, ready to deliver a blow that would either knock the guy out, or preferably decapitate him, when lightning slashed through the night and cast bright, flickering white light over the scene. Dante stuck in his tracks when his eye caught a glimpse of his opponent before darkness haloed them once more. His height, same build, similar regal features etched with an annoyed scowl, and silvery blonde hair slicked back from his forehead. Familiar, but not. Too young to be Vergil, had Vergil lived.

Dante frowned hard. "Nero?"
Something flew out at him in the dark. Dante lifted his arm to block it with his sword reflexively, noted within the same second that it was nothing but a damn pizza box, and too late realized he'd given his assailant a grand opening to take him down. A blow struck him right in the ribcage – he as much as heard as felt several bones cracking on impact – and he was too slow to react when the guy brought him down on his knees. His arms were wrenched behind his back in an awkward and painful position. "Hey, that's not fair play!"

Dante tried to gather his legs beneath him fast enough to either flip over onto his back, or throw his attacker off. The guy wasn't stupid, though. The sound of joints popping out of place echoed through the room like gunshots, and Dante bit down a scream.

"Ohm...fffffn sun ofa..." A foot came down hard between his shoulder blades, knocking the breath out of him and sufficiently pinning him to the floor. If this was Nero, he'd be damned.

His opponent crouched down on top of him and pressed Dante's head hard into the floor.

"Now you listen to me, and you listen good, Dante," the voice was young, male, and the speech a drawl that betrayed a regal upbringing. Dante didn't know that voice. "Insults I can deal with. But never threaten my family again."

"Dude... get off me..." Dante choked out.

"That baby is your responsibility now. I have exhausted every other plan to keep him protected, and this is the only way I can assure his safety. Now, I hate it as much as you do, but you will be an adult about it and take it heads on. Get it?"

"I'm not doing anything unless you pay me, dickhead!" Dante grimaced when the grip on his head tightened painfully. "Ow!"

"Don't be an ignorant buffoon. In case you haven't noticed, every demon is out to get that baby. It's your duty to keep him safe. If you let anything happen to him, I will kill you myself."

"Don't hurt him," a female voice rang through the room, and Dante's head whipped toward its surreal familiarity. It was a dream. A nasty, morbid, ugly dream – it had to be. But the pain blazing through his legs and arms at that moment felt far too real for him to deny, and that voice...

"What are you doing here? I told you not to come here!" The guy on Dante barked angrily.

"I just wanted to come say goodb..."

"Stop talking. For God's sake, woman, get out of here!" The guy actually sounded frantic when Dante struggled vigorously to escape his hold.

"Hey! Hey... wait!" Dante shouted when he heard light footsteps retreat and fade. "Who was that? Who was she? Who!"

"None of your business, twerp. Just keep in mind what I told you, all right? If I have to go pick up that baby from the orphanage or the authorities one more time, I'm going to come kick your ass til kingdom come." His breath was hot and tickled against Dante's ear, and his voice was dangerously quiet. "You do not want me as your enemy, Dante."

The castrated hold on Dante released abruptly, and he leapt to his feet, ignoring the shockwave of pain it sent up his legs. He was alone again, the guy had just gone poof in the dark. Teleporting, Dante thought, and stumbled over to the door. No one in sight. There was no point going out in the downpour to look for anybody, because he knew he would find no one. He went over to the couch and slouched down on it beside the baby seat. He eyed it for a moment, the sweet female voice burned into his eardrums and replaying itself over and over like a broken record.

Dante leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and dropped his face in his hands. He wasn't hallucinating. It had been real. And unless it was another cheap trick – another menacing way for demons to get at him and create another Trish – the woman in the dark had definitely, without a doubt, been Eva.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Unloaded 1/2 (btw...I really hate Nero...)

Dante didn't stir from the couch until a niggly, infantile wail came from the small being safely tucked between white fleece blankets. He reached over and carefully tugged away the folds to wrinkle his nose at the scrunched up face squinting back at him. It wasn't a full out cry right away – the baby was making sounds like he was revving up for the real deal.

"What's your problem?" Dante muttered, and leaned back into the couch with a tired sigh. "You look ugly when you cry. Stop it."

He tried to rock the baby seat to either shut it up or distract it enough to make it forget whatever it was about to cry about. His mind was stuck in one place, though. The memories of his mother had all simply disappeared. He couldn't recall any, no matter how hard he tried, because they were all replaced by the single event from the night before. His mind was starting to have conflicting thoughts about it, debating that it might have possibly been someone who just really sounded a lot like Eva. But his heart was stubborn and convinced – it had been her. It could be no one else, as impossible as the whole concept deemed.

"So... if my gut instinct is right," Dante said, peering at the baby uneasily. "You might be family. Another descendant of Sparda. We're just popping up all over the place, aren't we? I'm guessing that was your dad trying to kick my ass last night. Any chance that he might be Nero's twin?"

The baby responded with a drawn out wail, and Dante grimaced. "Yeah, that would be weird, wouldn't it? I think we need to go say hi to that kid, anyway. He might know something about this whole affair. Who knows? Maybe his lady will be broody enough to actually take you in." Dante said, cheering up at the mere thought. "Yeahhhh."

The drive to Fortuna was a long one, made longer only by the fact that Dante could see the infant screaming his little lungs out. He couldn't hear it above the roar of the motorbike, but it was still very distracting. The weather seemed a lot more optimistic in the town than it had back in Metropolis. The sky was a bright clear blue, the sun pleasantly warm, and when Dante pulled up outside the old cathedral, he found that the town had efficiently been put back together.

His concern about how he was going to locate Nero eradicated itself when he stepped into the busy street. People took one look at him, recognized him, and then brown hooded cloaks ran screaming in the opposite direction. Dante stood uncertainly in the middle of the street, did a quick assessing scan of the area around him to make sure there weren't any demons about to launch an attack on him, saw none, and stared at the running people in bewilderment. What the hell?

"It must be you." Dante said, holding the baby seat at arm's length. The baby's voice was going hoarse and feeble, but it was still crying full-throat. "C'mon now, stop it. You're scaring everyone away."

Dante trailed through the streets, and a deep scowl unfolded across his face when people scattered away from him. Asking for directions was out of the question. He could only hope that Nero would come investigate what the cause of the stampede was. Dante turned and went down a couple of steps into a narrower down-sloping road, sending more people fleeing like startled pigeons.

He knew he was intimidating, but Dante didn't recall ever having the talent to scare people off at this magnitude. Maybe they were just too isolated from the rest of the world? What not with all that crap the Order of the Sword and Sanctus had been feeding their gullible minds...

Oh. The recollection of the crazy old fart re-entered Dante's mind. The grey old eyes going wide, the mouth dropping open, the wrinkled face turning a shade paler when Dante pointed his gun dead centre on the old man's forehead, and pulled the trigger. Taking out their holy leader in a no-nonsense, unexpected, brutal method, inside a building that was meant to be sacred, during a service, with every citizen in town as eye-witness. Damn. He forgot – he was still the bad guy in their perspective. No wonder they bolted away from him.

One figure amid the flight of people stood solid ahead of him, straightening up slowly from a stack of crates filled with vegetables. It turned to him slowly, and then it was weaving through the crowd of panic stricken people, straight toward him. Dante reached a hand to his shoulder and his fingers rested against the cool hilt of Rebellion.

The figure came to an abrupt halt right in front of him. Delicate hands lifted and pulled down the brown hood to reveal an innocent and familiar face, swathed with an emotion Dante couldn't quite define. Dante dropped his hand to his side. Golden doe eyes were fixed on the baby seat he was holding.

"Ah. Just the person I was looking for." Dante said with a grin.

The young woman blinked, startled, and finally tore her gaze from the crying baby to look up at him. "Really?"

"Well... no, I need to see Nero. Is he still around?" Dante asked, grin gone.

"Of course he is. Where else would he be?" The girl scowled up at him, and actually snatched the baby seat from him. "Come with me."

Dante followed her, trying to place a name to her face. He and Nero hadn't actually made chit-chat other than the banter they shared during their battles when Dante had last been here, but he was pretty sure Nero had said her name. Or somebody else had. It might have been Trish, giving him a briefing on the case when she infiltrated the Order.

She was the sister of Credo. Ah, now, Credo he could remember – dying a heroic but stupid death in an attempt to save an inexperienced Nero who, as it turned out, was fully capable of handling himself. But her name... damn it. It wouldn't come to him. She moved with a lithe and graceful pace that Dante had no trouble keeping up with.

"I see the city's had a revamp." Dante said casually.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Yes. It had to be done. It was a wreck when you left."

"You make it sound like it was my fault."

"I didn't say it was. The events were just unfortunate, and the city suffered the brunt of it."

"It looks good. Better, even."

"And you would remember what it looked like before?"

"Uh... sort of. So, what's Nero been up to?" Dante asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was a knight for the Order, wasn't he? The Order's gone."

"Oh." She said quietly, and looked straight ahead, mouth grim. "He's been helping out around town. Protecting the people from demons - not that there's been that many for a while."

"Good, good..." Dante said, nodding.

"We have been having trouble with the people, though."

"Yeah?" Dante pressed when it was clear she wasn't going to continue.

"Hmm. Now that the Order is gone and word got out that Nero is possibly a descendant of Sparda, people have been... strange. Treating him differently."

"Have they been picking on him?" Dante asked, amused.

"No. They've been short of worshipping him." The girl sent him a sharp glance.

"Heh. That's not too bad."

"How can you even say that?"

"Hey, it beats having demons and humans alike wanting him dead twenty four seven. He got dealt the lucky cards, if you ask me." Dante said to her fuming gaze.

"Whose baby is this?" She glanced away from him and down at the sobbing baby.

"I was thinking Nero might know."

The girl halted in her tracks so suddenly that Dante collided into her. She staggered and whirled around to look at him, her face flushed a deep crimson and her eyes brimming with tears.

"What the-" Dante started, steadying himself when she shoved him away.

"And what makes you think that Nero would know anything about this?" She exploded in a trembling voice, gesturing toward the baby.

"Hey, relax before you hurt yourself, babe," Dante said, holding his hands up in mock surrender and waving her down. "It's nothing for you to worry about. Like I said, I need to see Nero about this."

The girl spun around again and marched off, golden brown hair streaming out behind her. "Insufferable, impossible mad..." she grumbled under her breath, and Dante couldn't make out the rest of the insults. He picked up his pace to catch up to her just as she turned and threw open a door. He followed her and was greeted with a familiar voice from somewhere inside the apartment.

"Kyrie, you're home already?"

Kyrie stopped dead in her tracks, and Dante managed to catch himself before he could crash into her again. It was a modest apartment, with few furnishings and ivory walls.

Nero appeared in a doorway leading off from the front foyer, ice blonde hair in total disarray and blue eyes dazed from sleep. He was dressed in a black short sleeve shirt and matching silk boxers, and his face crunched up in vague disorientation when he spotted Dante.

His gaze darted from Dante, to the wailing baby, and finally focussed on Kyrie. His bemused expression softened into concern and something very much like hurt, and he stepped forward.

"He wanted to see you." Kyrie said brusquely, and Dante frowned when he realized she was crying.

"Kyrie..." Nero started, but she simply shoved the baby seat into his chest, brushed past him and disappeared down a hallway. The sound of a door slamming shut echoed back to them, and Nero turned to give Dante a measuring look. "What the hell is going on?"

"Don't look at me. I didn't do that." Dante said, gaze drifting from the hallway to fix on Nero. "I got a problem. Thought you might be able to help me out a bit."

"You mean this?" Nero lifted the baby seat slightly, and leaned closer to take a better look. Curiosity coloured his face before he looked at Dante. "What's this all about?"

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Unloaded 2/2

"I'm not exactly sure...uh... some guy showed up at my place last night and threatened me...eh... could we somehow shut it up?" Dante asked, eyes darting from Nero to the baby and back. "I can barely hear myself think over that noise."

"Yeah, I think I got just the thing." Nero said, grimacing at the cries. Dante trailed behind him down the hallway, and froze in confusion outside the room Nero stepped into. He watched the younger man stroll over to a white set of drawers and pick up a pacifier from the surface.

Nero sank down on a comfortable rocking chair and bent down to shove the dummy in the gaping little mouth. It was a moment before the cries ceased and silence fell. Dante glanced from the sunny yellow walls, decorated with a strip of bright colourful circus trains and animals, to the shelves mounted against one wall lined with about a hundred different baby products, to the stack of disposable nappies hovering like a tower in one corner, and finally stared at the red and yellow crib beneath the window. It took him a long moment before he could tear his gaze away from it to look at Nero.

Nero was looking back at him steadily. There was a jaded look in his cobalt eyes that Dante didn't recall being there when they first met. His lips pursed together wistfully and he glanced down at the child inside the baby seat.

"He's hungry. That won't keep him quiet for long." Nero said.

"Did I miss something?" Dante asked, genuinely confused, and gestured around him when he stepped into the room. "You guys planning on expanding a bit?"

"We were." Nero said, and stared down at the infant. "It didn't work out the way we planned on it, though. We lost the baby halfway through the second trimester. Happened a couple of months ago. Kyrie doesn't want me to get rid of this stuff, but she doesn't want to try again, either."

Dante leaned back against the wall, and squinted down at his feet uncomfortably. "Sorry, kid. That's gotta be tough."

"Yeahh." Nero said, and shrugged briefly. He finally looked back up, and frowned. "What's this all about, though?"

"Some maniac ditched it on my doorstep. Keeps bringing it back even when I drop it off at the orphanage. He tried to attack me last night – I'm not sure, he was probably trying to intimidate me so he could force me to take it in. He looked a lot like you. I thought you'd know something." Dante said, relieved to be discussing something less personal. He wasn't that great at relating to people.

"No," Nero said slowly. "He looked like me?"

"Could have been your brother."

Nero's eyebrows shot up in doubt. "Like there could be another freak out there like me." He snorted, and shook his head. "Sorry, man. I can't give you anything. I don't know either."

"Hmpf." Dante muttered unhappily. "Was worth a shot."

The baby let out another heart-breaking sob, and Nero let out a long breath. "You're not planning on ditching it on me, are you?"

"No." Dante lied, casting a pointed look around the room when Nero rose to his feet.

"Dude." Nero said, narrowing his eyes at Dante suspiciously. "Try it, and I'll burn your store down."

"Hey, that's not very nice." Dante said, surprised. "Besides, I wasn't planning on ditching it on you. But seeing as you've got the goods, and I don't... it won't hurt if I left it here with you for a while, right? You never know, it might do your lady some good."

"I don't think so." Nero glared at him.

"Look, I can't track this guy down with a kid strapped to my ass. When I find him, all of this will be out of our hands, and we all live happily ever after." Dante glared back.

"How about you take the baby, get the hell out of my house, and no one gets hurt?"

"How about I kick some reason into your dumb head?"

Nero stared at him and took a step away, lips twitching in contempt. "Why bring me into this? Don't you have other sources to back you up?"

"Yeah, I do, but unfortunately none of them has my father's blood in their veins." Dante said begrudgingly. "There's just you and me, kid."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nero demanded.

"It's a family matter. There is no one competent enough to deal with this, and I can't do it on my own. You get to play daddy for a little while, and leave the dirty work for me to take care of, alright? It's not that big a deal."

"Not that big..." Nero started angrily.

"It's okay."

Both heads snapped in the direction of the soft voice, and Dante levelled his fighting stance into a casual, relaxed pose when Kyrie uncertainly treaded into the room. Her eyes were a little red, but that was the only sign that defied the fact that she'd been crying. Her voice was steady and strong, and her face gentle and warm.

"We'll keep him here." Kyrie said, stooping beside the baby seat and scooping the baby into her arms. "Just until you find his parents, right?" She said, looking at Dante.

"Exactly." Dante said with a smile.

Kyrie looked at Nero, who responded with a not so pleased expression. "Kyrie, it's not a good idea..."

"Nero, don't be silly. He'll be in much better hands here with us than with him," Kyrie chided lightly, nodding her head at Dante.

"Yeah." Dante said uncertainly. Was that an insult? He decided not to dwell on it, and make headway instead. He scooped the empty baby seat up. "I'll see you when I see you. Enjoy."

He grabbed Nero's demon arm on his way out of the room, and dragged the kid behind him toward the front door. The arm glowed a warning blue in response, and Dante dropped it when he turned to face him squarely.

"Keep them safe, Nero. For whatever reason the kid was unloaded on my shoulders, it can't be good. Nothing related to me is ever good or easy."

"Like I'd let anything happen to Kyrie." Nero said scornfully.

"Catch you later then," Dante said with a flick of his hand, and marvelled in amusement as people once again ran from him on his way back to his bike. He got on, once again fixed the baby seat securely in front of him, and kicked the engine into gear with a mechanical purr.

Now, for the real fun to start.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Maimed Memories 1/3

Venomous demon stone. Check.
Loaded Coyote-A. Check.

Dante wiped the c0cky smirk off his face when the orphanage came into view, but he was reeling with glee on the inside. Time to put his master plan into action. He pulled up outside the building with a screech of tyres, picked the baby seat off his bike, and marched up the steps. His senses were extended, searching, alert, even as he put up his facade of irate anger. He burst through the door, startling a young couple and Maizy where they were deep in conversation at the counter.

Maizy straightened up and pursed her lips grimly at the sight of him. "Now, see here..."

"Dante?"

He turned at the familiar voice, and a slow smile curled his lips when the blonde, pretty girl in school uniform edged closer to him almost shyly.

"Hey, what a surprise." Dante said. "I see you're going to Metropolis High now, huh?"

"Metropolis Middle School, actually. I'm a junior." Patty said, and nervously smoothed down her hair. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, the shop's in a mess so I thought I'd come find you..."

"Oh, shut it, Dante." Patty scowled, folding her arms across her chest. "You should get yourself a maid."

"That's why I came to you." Dante said, and gave her a playful wink. "No one can clean up as nice as you..."

"Shut up," Patty huffed. The next moment her moody demeanour shattered and she flung her arms around him in a bear hug, breaking out in a broad smile of genuine happiness. "As crazy as this sounds, I missed you."

"As crazy as it sounds, I missed you, too." Dante said, gently disengaging the child from him. "Is your mom around?"

"I'm sure she's here somewhere." Patty said with a shrug and stepped away to give him a critical once over. "So, what are you doing here, really?"

"Waiting to catch a new friend of mine." Dante said vaguely, and arched his eyebrows when Patty fished through the blankets in the baby seat. "It's empty."

"Oh." Patty straightened up, puzzled, and blinked at him. "You're weird sometimes, you know that?"

"I've been called worse." Dante said. "I just thought I'd drop this off, seeing as I no longer need it."

"Oookay." Patty said, taking the baby seat from him. "I'd hate to ask."

"Yeah, you don't want to know." Dante said, and gave her another grin. "And, hey, don't even think of getting involved. This is a pretty hard case I'm working on."

"I think I've got better things to do in my spare time than getting dragged into whatever mission you're on. There's always blood and gore where you're concerned." Patty said and grimaced. "I'm squeamish."

Dante snorted. "I'll see you around town."

"Hey, Dante?" Patty's voice stopped him halfway across the room. He turned slightly to glance at her expectantly. "Do you want to come over for dinner this weekend?"

"I'll think about it." Dante said with a faint nod, managed a colourless smile, and slipped through the front door. Count on Patty to remind him how damn hungry he was at a time like this.

He got back on his bike and sat there for a moment, readjusting his coat and tightening his gloves, all the while keenly aware of everything – and everyone – within a ten mile radius of him. His fingers curled around the leather handle bars. His foot kicked the metal stand back in place. He revved the engine – and there it was. That same presence he'd sensed the night before. He could feel the power throbbing off the guy in shockwaves. Somewhere to his left, but Dante didn't make a show of looking for him. Instead, he kicked his bike into gear and took off in the opposite direction, his gaze fixated on the rear view mirror. He turned a corner, and glimpsed a tall, silver haired figure emerge from the building next door to the orphanage just before his view was cut off by a long store window. He pulled the bike to a screaming halt outside a pet shop, left it idling on the spot, and his feet carried him swiftly back to the orphanage.

It didn't matter that the demon stone's poisonous properties weakened him. It would weaken his opponent, too – surprise him, bring him down, and before he'd have time to react, Dante would be hauling his tied up ass in. Dante neared the orphanage just as the door swung open. The guy was powerfully built, flaxen hair smoothed back from his forehead, clothed in black and red in similar fashion to Dante's own attire. He was evidently distressed, because he didn't hear Dante come up behind him. A demon with that amount of power ought to have felt Dante advance on him from miles away, but he didn't. An easy target. It played in Dante's favour.

Dante felt the stone in his pocket and brought it out, every fibre of his body strained in anticipation. It was going to be a big fight, and he was ready for it. The thought to just knock the guy out from behind came to him briefly, but Dante dismissed it. That wasn't his style. Instead, he pulled a fast manoeuvre and stepped right into the guy's path.

The young man didn't see Dante until he physically smacked into him. The guy stumbled away and steadied himself, hard blue eyes blinking in startled amazement. He was younger than Dante had initially thought – a kid hanging between adolescence and manhood. Nineteen or twenty, if he had to guess, around Nero's age maybe. What nearly threw Dante off his course of action was the fact that, unnervingly and inexplicably, he could see both Vergil and Nero reflected to some degree in the guy's features.

The youth's surprise morphed into brooding annoyance. "You've got some balls."

Dante pulled his fist back, stone gripped tightly in his palm, and rammed it straight into the guy's face. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, and Dante stared down at his unconscious form. "That was too easy."

~...~

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Maimed Memories 2/3


Dante sat himself down with a tired grunt, and studied the person chained securely to a chair in front of him. The guy's resemblance to him was uncanny. Definitely, without a doubt, related to Sparda. Ironic that he'd discover he had living, breathing relatives when he'd been convinced he was the only one left. Now there were two, three if he counted the baby, people who had a direct link to him.

He leaned forward, scrutinizing the strapping youth for another moment, before letting out a drawn out sigh. He reached out and gave the kid a good slap against the cheek.

"Time to wake up, sleepy head." Dante said, and gave him another little smack for good measure.

The young man stirred, and his eyes shot open when he realized he couldn't move his arms. He blinked down at his tied up form, glanced around the shop slowly, and his gaze stuck on Sparda's sword mounted on the wall. For a long second he stared, and finally he turned his attention to Dante. He let out a quiet groan.

"My head... what did you hit me with?"

Dante relaxed back into his chair, lifted his leg to rest his ankle on his knee. He tossed the glowing blue-black demon stone into the air and caught it casually. Recognition dawned on the young face across from him.

"Bastard."

Dante dropped his foot back on the ground and bent closer to the guy, his motions so abrupt and quick that the kid actually flinched.

"What's your deal? Why are you so stuck on ditching your kid with me? What makes him so special?" Dante demanded.

The young man clenched his jaw and held Dante's gaze evenly. "Ah, but it is you who is special, Dante."

"Dude, flattery will get you nowhere. Now give me a proper answer, or I'll put a few holes in your chest." Dante said, and motioned to Coyote-A on the desk beside him.

A rakish grin spread across the guy's lips. He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm not blowing smoke up your pipe, you imbecile. You are well known throughout the demon world as the legendary devil hunter. Even here in the human world, you have a reputation that exceeds all others. Like your old man." His lips quirked and his tone turned almost mocking at the last.

Dante folded his hands together slowly. The youth's gaze darted to the movement nervously before meeting his gaze dead on.

"So?" Dante bit the word off.

"So it makes sense that you are the only one capable of protecting that baby," he said impatiently. "Devils run screaming when they hear your name. Not even I have that effect on them, y'know."

"You got a name, kid?" Dante asked, and felt a tremor of exasperation shake through him when the guy stared back at him steadily. "Okay. Fine. What exactly is it that you want me to protect the baby from?"

"Demons. Humans. The worlds." The youth said slowly, and there was a cold edge to his words. "He will always be in danger. Until you can get him to the point where he can look out for himself, his life is in your hands."

"That's a pretty big assumption on your part. What if I don't give a damn?"

"Let me clarify. If anything happens to him, I will come for you. I will inflict horrors on you that hell itself could never handle - I will break you until you beg for death." The guy said with calm conviction.

Chilly fingers prodded the back of Dante's neck at the words. Every inch of the guy screamed carefully restrained rage. It was enough to make the snide remark on the tip of his tongue run back down his throat. "I get the picture."

"Good." The guy gave a satisfied smile.

"But I'm not interested." Dante said. A shadow fell across the younger man's face. Dante added, "Sorry. I'm pretty busy trying to keep my own ass alive, so unless there's something in it for me..."

"How about your life?" the guy said through gritted teeth.

Dante snorted in reply, and gave him a withering look. "I mean moneywise. I'm barely providing for myself as it is. Kids equal expenses. I can't do it, unless you pay me."

"I do not have the resources you are asking of me. But there is no one else – no one else – that I will entrust with this task. Speaking of which," the young man's eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown. "Where is he?"

Dante let out a long-suffering breath and observed the guy's expression when he realized the baby was nowhere in sight. Realization. Alarm. Panic entwined with rage. Fear was the most dominant emotion on the young face.

"How about we make a deal?" Dante said, and the wide, fierce eyes locked onto him silently. "The woman that came with you last night. You tell me where I can find her, and I'll tell you where you can find the baby."

Total turmoil brushed over the youth. "I can't, you stubborn dimwit. It's my duty to protect her, as it's yours to protect that baby. Leading you to her means risking her safety – risking everything we've strived to accomplish. She has no role to play in your life. And you have no purpose to confront her. Now where the hell is that baby?"

"He's safe. I left him in capable hands. Why should I tell you where he is, any way, if you're just going to dump him on me again?"

"Where?"

"You tell me what I want to know, and I'll tell you."

Dante sat back quickly when the chains binding the kid snapped and rolled off his arms like spaghetti. He reached for Coyote-A, and had it in his grasp the same instant the young man tackled him off the chair. They hit the floor hard in a chorus of 'oomphs'. The kid was far stronger than Dante had anticipated, even with the demon stone lying only a few feet away from them.

Dante was flat on his back, and the kid raised his fist to deliver a good blow right in his face when a shot rang through the store. The youth rolled off Dante suddenly and hit the desk so hard it went crashing over. Dante leapt to his feet in one smooth agile move, his aim still right on target, ready to pull the trigger again if he felt the need to.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Dante snapped.

The young man was scuttling away from him across the floor, one hand pressed to his chest. Red blood pumped through his fingers and dripped on the wood floorboards, and his face was carved with lines of pain. His eyes were slightly dazed as he stared back up at Dante, and then they focussed on the gun in his hand.

"I really do despise those things," he grumbled, and glanced over his shoulder when he backed up against the wall. His eye caught on the sword mounted above him, and he reached a weak hand to snatch it off.

Dante paused and tilted his head to the side, watching the kid curiously when he grabbed hold of Sparda's sword. He was too weak to fight him off. He could barely hold the sword up, struggled momentarily to get a good grip on the hilt, and then slouched back against the wall with the sword draped across his lap.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Maimed Memories 3/3

"I don't... want to fight you..." The kid said in a strained voice, and pointed the sword at Dante with a trembling arm. A minute later the sword's blade dropped to the floor, and the kid let out a shaky breath.

"Listen, kid," Dante said after a moment's hesitation, and he crouched down in front of him. "I'm not your guy. That baby will be in a lot more danger around me. I'm a magnet for evil, I'm always fighting off one or the other insane entity..."

"...But I will kick your ass... if you don't tell me where I can find the baby..." the kid panted, and winced as he tried to straighten up. "...I have other more... unpleasant ways... of extracting information from you..."

"Yeah?" Dante said sceptically. "You look pretty much out of commission, if you ask me."

"I'm a little rusty. I haven't had to fight for a while." The young man said defiantly.

"Look, just sit still and wait for it to heal. You can heal, can't you?" Dante said, eyeing the blood stained fingers and soaked shirt uncertainly. "It will hurt less if you just sit it out."

The young man gave a breathy chortle. "I've seen worse." He hadn't even finished the sentence before he moved.

Dante found himself literally pinned to the floor with the hilt of the sword protruding from his chest. The first question that winked through his stunned mind was how the hell did he move so fast?

The second thing that consumed his mind was the nasty, sharp and stinging pain cracking through his chest. Every little breath hurt. He felt the heat of blood gushing from the wound, turning chilly as it soaked down his shirt and pooled on the floor beneath him. His mouth got a quick, foil-like taste, and Dante turned his head to spit up blood.

The kid loomed over him with a small, triumphant sneer. "Don't mess with me again, Dante. You will always come second. Are you going to tell me where the baby is?"

"Go to hell." Dante choked out.

"Thought so." He said with an impatient sigh. "I warned you."

He pressed his fingers to Dante's temples.
Animated images flashed through Dante's mind; memories resurfaced down to the smallest of details as though he was thrown back into time, back into those moments, reliving everything as though they weren't memories but real events that had never occurred before. The first visions to clog his mind were of his childhood – a play date on the beach with his brother and a couple of neighbouring kids. The vision passed, and his mind flicked through the memories like he was fast forwarding a movie. Glimpses of this and that. Again another vision paused momentarily, playing itself out. 'Wow, cool!' 'Thanks, Mom!' And Eva's brilliant, warm smile as she handed two identical shiny amulets to greedy, excited child-like hands.

"What are you doing?" Dante ground out through his teeth, straining his head back against the floor in an attempt to escape the kid's fingers.

"Shut up." The young man shot back, and his fingers pressed harder.

Shifting through the images, one after the other with dizzying speed. It stuck on another memory – one where Dante felt a numbing terror holding him paralysed, peeking at a horrific scene from a shadowy nook created in a bashed up wall. "Run, Dante!" His mother's cry.

"Get out of my head!" Dante growled, jerking his head back into the floor with a painful thud. The fingers didn't relent."You mustn't come out! No matter what happens, keep hiding. Dante, you mustn't come out!" Eva's pale, petrified features swam in front of his eyes. The blood curdling screams that followed when she pulled away from him. "No! Vergil!" "Mom!" Blades singing through the air. Distorted gurgles from demons. Painful cries. Silence. Then, "They're dead." "All of them?" "Yes, I killed all of them." A demented, malicious bout of mirth resounded mockingly and frighteningly through the destroyed room.

"I know that voice." The kid above Dante murmured thoughtfully, and blinked at the death glare Dante was giving him.

"I'm going to kill you." Dante said icily.

"Of course you are." The kid said with obvious scorn.

More images flitted past Dante's eyes, every memory good and bad yanked out from his subconscious and discarded; his life literally replayed through his mind. There were pauses on scraps of memories. His own voice, young, bitter, and mocking. "Father?" A cold chuckle. "I don't have a father."
Dante cringed and held his breath. Fingers coiled around the hilt in his chest firmly.
"Why do you refuse to gain more power?""What are you going to do with all that power, huh? No matter how hard you try, you're never gonna be like father." "...Our souls are at odds, brother. I need more power." "Come on, get up, you can do better than that..."

Dante gave the sword one good hard tug, and the blade loosened from the floor beneath him, unpinning him. The young man's eyes darted toward Dante's hand slowly pulling the sword from his chest, but he didn't seem alarmed or surprised at the deed.

Memory of the cathedral, the restored city of Fortuna, the path to Nero's quaint little apartment, yellow walls, Nero's heated voice "try it, and I'll burn your store down", Kyrie with swollen teary eyes cradling a wriggling bundle in her arms...
The sword came out freely, and Dante swung at the young man. The kid was quick and light on his feet and dodged out of the way easily.

"C'me here, you little son of a..." Dante snarled, flipping onto his feet and charging the youngster, fully intent on killing the scumbag.

The kid did a smooth twirl out of Dante's line of attack and made a mocking bow. "Nice try, but you're going to have to try harder than that." He gave a salute, and flashed a c0cky grin. "See ya."

Dante blinked, and stumbled mid-swing when the kid disappeared into thin air in front of him. "Damn it!"

~....~

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Distraction 1/2

It was all a downright dirty ploy. Dante knew it, and he fought against the strange urge to comply to the plan. The guy was messing with his head –that was it.
He'd waited all day for there to be another knock on his door. He waited for the guy to pitch up again and shove the baby in his face. Dante struggled to stay awake that night, and drifted in and out of restless sleep. Each time he opened his eyes and came to, he expected to see the baby back in the shop. When morning arrived in soft rose and lavender, there was still nothing.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. His anger had simmered down in the meanwhile, and gave him time to debate what to do next. He wanted to wring that kid's neck, not as a means of revenge but more to teach him a lesson. Dante was not one to be played around with like that.
One more hour. He'd wait one more hour, and then the guy will show up again, or the baby will be right outside his doorstep. An hour passed with a no show.

Pizza. He'd head down to the diner, stuff his face, and put this whole incident from his mind. Move on. But even when he slid into his chosen booth at the diner, and devoured his favourite pizza in a matter of minutes, he couldn't get his head clear. Mind games, that's what the kid was doing.

Dante walked home with brooding thoughts milling in his head. What was he getting so worked up about? He didn't want the baby anyway –he ought to be happy it wasn't back to pest him. Maybe the kid sucked it up and just took the baby back. That could be it. Perhaps it scared the kid off when he'd seen just what an unstable halfling Dante was – no one had dared venture into Dante's head before. It was enough to give you nightmares.

Time seemed to slow down. He wasn't convinced that the baby wouldn't magically appear back in Devil May Cry until that evening. A whole day wasted, waiting for nothing. Dante sunk into bed late that night, pushing aside the thought that maybe he wasn't supposed to be waiting for it. Maybe he was supposed to go fetch it.

He slept in the next morning, something he rarely did. He woke with a headache, and contemplated spending the rest of the day in bed, when something soft and cool touched his back. He tensed instinctively, hand drawing out Ivory and aimed at whatever it was before his mind caught up to the action.

Dante blinked at the tight figure clothed in burgundy leather, and dropped his defence with a sleepy grunt. He pushed off the bed and dragged himself to a set of drawers in the corner. He wiggled into a pair of black pants, and caught the lady watching him in the mirror. There was no hint of embarrassment or awkwardness when her gaze met his evenly.

"Couldn't wait until I'm decent?" Dante grumbled with a faint frown, looking away from her as he scouted for a shirt. "Unless there was something you wanted, Trish."

"There is, actually. I've got a job for you." Trish said, observing him for another curious moment before elegantly rising from the bed. "Interested?"

Dante pursed his lips and stared back at her. He yanked the shirt over his head. "Sure. I wasn't doing anything else anyway."

~...~

The days that followed melted into one another as Dante hurled himself into mission after mission. Helping a family get rid of a demon that had been pestering them for generations; slaughtering a succubus draining and killing wedded men in a small town not far off; knocking sense into another power-hungry human who thought he wanted to become a devil. Dante even went fishing for a malicious water nymph abducting humble fishermen at a harbour village.

The upside of it was that he was making more money than he usually did in a month. The downside was that his persistent chasing, hunting and killing of the demonic meant there was no time for his body to recuperate and heal fast enough. A blow that he would normally brush off and recover from a second later, slowed him down by minutes and weakened him easily. His fighting skills became sloppy, to the extent that Morrison called in backup to haul Dante out of the job he was working on.

He was screwed the second the dark, fire-breathing entity took a swing at him and sent him slamming into a wall. His head gave a heavy, dull throb, and he thought he was going to be sick right then. He blinked hard and wiped the blood from his eyes with an enraged grumble. He sent a dual of bullets at the demon, but his aim was off, his vision out of synch. More demons sprouted from a swirling portal near his right. Lesser demons, but hundreds of the things. Dante pulled himself to his feet and leaned against the wall for support, his fire never ceasing, foggy mind flicking through possible actions he could perform to take out the demons and not get himself killed in the process. He couldn't think straight, though. He was too weak. He was no good.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Distraction 2/2

The king demon hovered over him and opened its gaping mouth, stained razor teeth gleaming red at him through the dark. Sulphuric breath washed over his face and Dante nearly gagged as the stench drew into his lungs. The bullets hindered the demon for only a moment before it retaliated.

Dante rolled out of the way when a current of electric orange fire streamed from the roaring demon. It missed him by inches but the intense heat scorched his arm, and his mind threatened to black out at the pain. Maybe he should just drop unconscious. It might actually give his body time to recover while he was out. But one glance at the demon horde around him told Dante he probably wouldn't wake up – they'd tear him to pieces.

Dante tried to scramble out of the way when the demon launched at him. The black mass was going to crush him and knock him out. He was going to die at the hand of a retarded vengeful dragon-like demon. What a way for the infamous son of Sparda to go out, Dante thought bitterly.

A loud boom ricocheted through the night, announcing the arrival of a saving grace. The demon above him was blown back by what looked like a glowing cannonball, and a supple figure in a white top and dark shorts strutted smack into the middle of the chaotic scene with fearless vigour. Another boom sounded up and several demons flew into the air on impact. He only knew who it was by the colour of her clothing, because his eyes couldn't focus on details.

Dante turned his head slowly when he felt something jab into his arm, and he stared in mystification at the demon blinking back at him with fiery red eyes, its teeth sunk deep into his flesh. Even his pain reaction was slow when Dante tried to yank away from the thing, and he pressed the barrel of Ebony into the demon's head before blowing it right off. The other demons took this as an invitation and descended on Dante from every direction. He swatted at them angrily, feebly trying to get to his feet. "Get off me you little ****s..."

"Get him out of here!" Lady ordered, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic note of worry.

Something bright flashed. The demons clinging to Dante dropped off him like stunned ticks, and then several hands were propelling him away from the fight. Everything around him blurred. A vaguely familiar voice was speaking to him in urgent tones, but the words were distorted and faint in his ears. He could hear his own breathing resounding in his head; heavy, shallow, ragged – and then there was nothing.

~...~

It was a weird feeling, waking up after blacking out. Knowing that time had passed, and that he was inexplicably transported from a dark alley in the middle of the night, to a familiar bed in the comforting haven of his shop with sunlight pooling over him and dripping down onto the floor.

Dante propped himself up with his elbows and scanned the room briefly. His weapons were on the dresser, his coat nothing but a pile of torn leather on the floor next to it. He sat up and slowly flexed his arms and legs. Satisfied that everything was still in working order, Dante swung his long legs over the side of his bed and got up. The wounds had healed, leaving his skin unmarred and smooth as velvet. Someone had even taken the initiative to clean him up.

He pulled on clothes and was sent downstairs by his rumbling stomach. How long had he been out?
Then again, who the hell cared? His job had been cut short, and if it got finished it meant he wasn't getting any compensation for the damage he'd inflicted. Damn it.

His steps slowed down when he looked up and spotted Lady lounging carelessly in his chair. Trish was perched on the edge of the desk, lithe legs dangling seductively over the side, the antique phone pressed to her ear.

"Make yourselves at home, why don't you?" Dante said, sauntering over to the bar fridge.

"Idiot." Lady said.

Dante retrieved a can of tomato juice and turned to her questioningly. "What are you doing in my shop? And get out of my chair."

"Waiting for you to drag your sorry ass out of bed. You were half dead when the others got you back here. Thought it would be only decent for me to hang around until you got better, so I could tell you face to face that I collected the money for your last job," Lady said, crossing her legs and giving him an arrogant smile.

"You were in worse shape than after that incident with Nina and Patty." Morrison spoke up, and Dante nearly dropped his juice in surprise. He turned toward the older man, comfortably reclined on one of the couches. His hair was unusually rumpled, his suit wrinkled, and there were dark bags beneath his eyes. Dante tilted his head to the side and studied him for a curious second, and then guilt punched him right between the eyes.

"You were worried." Dante said quietly.

"I was starting to have my doubts whether you'd pull through or not. Trish wouldn't let me take you to hospital, though. She said you'd heal in time. She was right, obviously." Morrison admitted, and his gaze avoided Dante's. "Patty stopped by, too. She left that for you."

Dante turned in the direction Morrison indicated, and walked over to the pool table. A stuffed toy holding a floating balloon with get well soon scrawled across it sat on the green surface, and beneath it a flat piece of glossy paper peeked up at him. Dante pulled it out, and grinned. Voucher for unlimited strawberry sundaes with the diner name in print beneath it. He wondered if Patty knew what demon she was unleashing with this gesture.

"You're taking a little holiday, by the way." Morrison added. Dante turned to him with an arched eyebrow. "You've been overworking yourself lately. You need a break from this."

"We're partners, Morrison. There's no way in hell you can lay me off. This is what I do, and I call the shots where my health is concerned." Dante said, pointing a warning finger at him. "I know my limits."

"I don't think you do, Dante." Morrison shook his head. He didn't flinch when Dante glared at him. "You've been out for a fortnight, you know. Your wounds didn't start to heal until a couple of days ago."

Dante opened his mouth, but shut it and dropped his hand, stumped. "What?"

"Maybe you're getting too old for this job," Lady suggested.

Dante extended his hand in her direction and pulled a finger at her in response. His gaze remained fixed on Morrison's pale face, though. "So maybe I have been overdoing it a bit. So what? Are you complaining? I haven't made us this much money since... well... ever."

"You've got to take it easy for a while. Lady offered to take over the assignments while you're on leave..." Morrison started.

"Like hell she is!" Dante cut him off and cast a grumpy glare at Lady's smirking face. "If I get a call with the password, it's mine, get it? No one else..." Dante trailed off when he motioned to the phone, and frowned.

Trish had one finger pressed to her ear, and was leaning forward slightly, listening intently to whoever was on the other line. She hadn't spoken once. Dante walked over to her, but Trish pulled away from him when he tried to take the phone from her. The look on her face was one of contained impatience. A warning flashed in her blue eyes, and she held one finger up to silence him when he opened his mouth to protest. A little spark leapt off the tip of her finger, and Dante backed away from her dejectedly.

"Who's on the phone?" Dante directed the question to Morrison.

"Don't know."

"Sounded like Nero to me." Lady said helpfully. Dante felt something in his chest jar painfully, and his eyes flashed to Trish quickly.

"Did he say what it's about?" Dante asked, swallowing his prideful anger and addressing Lady frankly.

"Nooo. Sounded serious, though. He's not a happy boy."

There was a long, drawn out silence before Trish let out a quiet sigh, and finally spoke. "Do you need him to come to you then?" She waited, and arched her eyebrows when she looked at Dante oddly. "All right. Yes. I'll let him know. See you soon." Trish put the receiver down, and her hand lingered on it for a moment before she straightened up from the desk.

"What's up?" Dante demanded.

Trish gave him a measuring look, and smiled. "We're having company."

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Angels Fall 1/2

Dante retreated several steps from her. There was an underlying coldness in her gaze when she looked at him, and that smile held the promise of unimaginable pain if he set his foot wrong.

"What company?" Morrison asked.

"Enji is coming to stay with us." Trish said, holding Dante's gaze squarely. "Want to enlighten everyone else about this, Dante?"

"Me?" Dante repeated blankly. "I don't know any Enji."

"Apparently you do. He's your son, according to Nero."

"I-" Dante started and frowned hard. "Now wait a minute, I never said..."

"You don't have to admit it. Nero knows. He's certain of it." Trish said and wandered closer to him, her smile melting away. Dante held his ground – come hell or heaven, he wasn't going to let her intimidate him on his own turf.

"You're kidding, right?" Lady asked from behind the desk. "I mean... Dante's hardly father material."

"Hey, I had nothing to do with..." Dante trailed off defiantly. "C'mon, Morrison, back me up here."

"I don't think Dante is responsible." Morrison nodded in agreement, occupying himself by lighting a cigarette.

Dante stared at him for a second, blinked slowly, and then turned to the two glaring women. "Thanks a lot, pal. That sure convinced them."

"You can deny it all you want, Dante, but Kyrie was approached by the mother. And according to her, that baby is definitely yours and should be left in your care." Trish said dangerously. "That's why they are on their way here."

Dante wandered over to his desk and lifted the chair to tip it over, but Lady reacted quickly before he could have the satisfaction of dumping her on the floor. She flew to her feet and turned to give him a blasé pout.

'"What a load of bull****." Dante snapped and dropped into the chair. He propped his feet up on the desk and flashed Lady a half-hearted grin. "Next thing you know, I'm going to be carrying the blame for Nero's existence, too."

"Well, smartass?" Lady arched an eyebrow, and flashed him a confident smirk. "What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to pull a runner?"

"Get lost." Dante shot back, and jerked away when Trish put her hand on his shoulder. "Why are you all ganging up on me? I'll take you all down, you know that. Right?"

"I wouldn't try get out of this if I were you, Dante," Trish said flatly. His skin went cold when she withdrew her hand from him. "Nero called from a phone booth two blocks away. They'll be here any..."

Trish stopped suddenly, and all eyes lifted to the ceiling. A deep thrum had begun to vibrate through the floor and it shook the foundations of the building. One of the fans dropped from the ceiling and crashed hard onto the floor a few feet away from them. The sky rapidly grew dark outside. Something flashed in his peripheral vision, and Dante slowly turned his head toward Sparda's sword. He narrowed his gaze at it suspiciously. What the hell was going on?

Trish strolled over to the window and stared out for a second before retreating quickly. A high pitched, steady buzzing noise seemed to emanate from everywhere. The air became heavy and crackled with oppressive energy around them. Lady darted toward the window with fearless grace, and stared.

"What the-" Morrison had risen to his feet, and exchanged looks with Dante.

"Oh... my ****ing hell," Lady exploded quietly. "It's the Order. I thought you dealt with this, Dante."

"The who?" Morrison demanded.

"I thought the Order was dead." Dante said. His eyes sent a silent thanks when Trish appeared beside him and handed him Rebellion. She flashed him a lopsided smile, and joined Lady at the window.

"Well." Lady said. She picked up Kalina Ann where it was leaning against the wall, and swung the slick black rocket launcher onto her back with trained ease. "Not yet, they're not." She flung the door open and disappeared outside before Dante could get a word in.

Trish followed close behind, and Dante sent a glance at Morrison. "You'd better get out of here."

"You don't need to tell me twice." Morrison said.

A faint female scream ripped through the air outside, cut off by a resounding boom that was undoubtedly Lady's work. Dante started toward the door just as two figures came crashing into the store. Kyrie was crying hysterically, folded double and clutching the baby tightly to her, stumbling over her feet into the shop. Nero was steering her inside, draped over her like a shield, and his entire back looked like he'd been put through a meat shredder.

The moment the door slammed shut behind them, Nero let go of her and leaned back against the wall. He was breathing heavily, his face pale and strained. "They... they're after the baby..." Nero panted out.

Dante pushed him down on the couch by the shoulder. "Sit this one out, kid. I'll take care of them."

Dante stepped outside. He gauged the predicament before him with a mere glance. The sky was black with Alto and Bianco Angelos. The buzzing noise was the sound of their collective wings holding them airborne. An entire army of gold and white armour flashed ominously back down at him. Lady fired another round of rockets, dropping several demons from the sky like fiery meteors. Trish joined Dante's side, and in one classy move brought forth Luce and Ombra.

"Ready?" Trish asked with gleaming eyes.

Dante broke out in a devious smile. "Let's rock, babe." He leapt into the air and seized hold of the nearest demon's foot. He used it as leverage and threw himself into the air, landing a powerful kick on one demon's head – the helmet flew off its shoulders and the armour collapsed – to launch himself at the rest of the fleet, sword extended. The demons themselves became his stepping stones, keeping him airborne and eye level with his opponents. Lady blew clutters of the things out of the air, and Trish finished them off as they hit the ground.

Dante thought they were doing well until another fleet of demons rose up from seemingly out of nowhere. An ocean of them. They were outnumbered by far – there was no way the three of them were going to keep these things at bay. He was in the midst of blocking a hit with Rebellion and kicking another demon's chest out of proportion behind him when Lady's distressed cry from below made him look down. She was unarmed and, from what Dante could only guess, had tried to kick the Alto Angelo advancing on her. It didn't quite work out. She was sprawled on the ground and trying to drag herself away from it, her leg twisted in an abnormal way. ****ing wonderful.

Dante ripped the sword from the demon in front of him, sliced the demonic entity in half from shoulder to hip with Rebellion, and leapt to the ground below. He managed to take several more demons down with him on his descent, slamming heads together and kicking another one right into the sharp tip of his fellow angelo's sword. His jump was straight on target, and he knocked the demon down before it could lift its arm to decapitate Lady. He thrust the sword through the demon's head into the ground, and picked Lady up in his arms.

"Put me down, you ****head! I can still fight." Lady protested angrily, but Dante barely heard her.

He darted past moving blades, brushed past Trish standing guard outside the door, and burst into the shop. "We need to revert to another plan. Anyone got any Holy Water on them?" Dante demanded and carefully lowered Lady onto the couch beside a wounded Nero.

"Holy water won't kill those things." Nero said, and hauled himself to his feet. "I can fight, but I don't want to leave Kyrie unprotected."

"I know," Dante scowled, and made to head outside to join Trish. "You need to get a way out of here. These things mean business... where is it?" Dante jolted to a halt, staring at the blank wall behind his desk. He scanned the shop for a second. It was gone.

"Where's what?" Nero frowned.

"How do we get out of here without any of those things seeing us?" Morrison asked.

"It's out there." Lady said with a small nod toward the door. "Didn't you see him? He was right behind you."

"What?" Dante demanded, and strode outside.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Angels Fall 2/2

Lady was right. The ****y kid was standing right in the middle of the road, dressed in a pair of Levi's, worn out sneakers, and a grey hooded jersey. His pose was rigid, his expression stony – and he held Sparda's sword in his hand. Where'd the little bastard come from?

Trish was standing a few feet away from him, holding her weapons as though she wasn't quite sure whether to put them away or not. The kid, in comparison, was giving her a very peculiar look. His eyes darted from Trish to focus on Dante.

"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are, you punk!" Dante roared furiously, strolling toward the guy, the fleet of demons hovering above them momentarily forgotten. The only people to ever handle Sparda's sword were him and Trish – everyone else was always hung up on trying to become as powerful as Sparda when they had it in their possession.

The kid blinked at him, startled, and slowly started backing away. "Looks like you need a hand."

"From you? Gimme the sword before I rip you apart, kid." Dante said heatedly, boots thudding heavily on the ground as he advanced on the boy.

The youth shook his head, and stopped. His shoulders heaved in a sigh. He lifted Sparda's sword over his shoulder, readjusted his grip on it. Dante thought he was going to have to try snatch it away, like little kids did when one refused to share a toy with another. The young man pursed his lips, shoulders tensed, and then he moved.

The sword swung through the air when the kid spun in a low circle and came to a stop in a half-kneeling position. The slight action caused havoc – something powerful slammed into the surrounding buildings. Windows cracked, tiles sailed off roofs, streetlights fell over, and the invisible force wiped both Trish and Dante right off their feet. There was no sound, no after-effect. Dante leapt back to his feet, and wrenched Trish to safety when a breath later, gold and white armour rained from the sky and crashed to the ground with a resounding clatter.

Dante turned only for a second, but when he turned back, the kid was gone. Sparda's sword was leaning up against the wall beside him. He surveyed the mess littering the streets, and an angry growl worked its way up his throat. Teleporting wimp... how the hell did he do this much damage with so little effort?

Trish stepped out of his embrace a moment later, staring at the sword with a daunting expression on her face. "I thought he was dead."

Dante glanced down at her. "It's not him."

"It's not?" Trish asked uncertainly, and studied her pistols with new eyes. "Are you sure? How could you be sure? That power..."

"It's not Vergil." Dante said and stepped away from her. "It's the kid that keeps ditching the baby on me."

Trish's head snapped up, and she stared hard at him. "No." She said thoughtfully, and narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "You're right. It's not Vergil."

The door flew open next to them, and Morrison peered outside cautiously."Is it over already?"

"Yeah." Dante said. He paused and gave Trish a silent, observing glance. She knew something he didn't. He knew that look on her face all too well. He reached out and grabbed Sparda's sword before dragging it into the store behind him. "Get her to a hospital, will ya?" He said, sending a glance at a quietly writhing Lady.

Lady didn't protest as much as she had with Dante when Morrison and Nero helped her outside. Dante went and crouched down in front of Kyrie. Her tears had dried up, her innocent face pale and strained. He glanced at the baby in her arms.

"He is your responsibility." Kyrie said quietly to his cool gaze.

"Who's the mother?" Dante asked, trying to keep himself in check. Something inside of him was shaking, and he didn't know whether the cause was fear or rage.

"I can't tell you." Kyrie said, and looked away from him. "But she seemed to know you a little. She said you'll take him in, because you have a good heart, and you fight for the just. She said she trusts you with her life. With his life." Kyrie said, and carefully held the baby to him.

"Did she... did she look like Trish?" Dante dropped his voice to a near whisper. He could see Trish from the corner of his eye, though; her head tilted to the side at his words. She'd heard him. Well, damn, of course she did – like he could do anything in secret where she was concerned.

"I don't know." Kyrie said, sending a startled glance at Trish before looking him in the eye. "It was dark. She wouldn't show herself to me. She said it was better that nobody knows who she is."

Dante let out a disappointed sigh, and dropped himself into the couch beside her. He studied her for a moment. His gaze unsettled her, because Kyrie stiffened and shifted away from him a little. Dante rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned forward on his knees.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Dante asked.

"No. We're fine, but Nero..."

"Nero will be okay." Dante said with a wave of disregard. "So."

There was a long awkward silence before Dante spoke again. "Enji, huh?"

"Yes." Kyrie said in a subdued voice. "I had to name him something. It felt impersonal and cold to just refer to him as 'the baby'."

"Why didn't you just call him Dante Junior? Everybody else seems convinced he's mine."

"Enji has a nicer ring to it." Kyrie said lightly. "And I did name him for you." She added, and gestured to his marred red trench coat. When Dante looked at her, she offered him a warm, gentle smile that made him shift away from her in turn. He wasn't used to people being nice to him, and Kyrie did nothing but unnerve him. She was completely out of his league of expertise.

"Well... any name is as good as the next, I guess." Dante shrugged awkwardly, and sent a glance at Trish. "You're not going to run out on me, are you?"

Trish looked back at him with a grin. "No, but I'm not going to be doing your job either. You're on a break, right? Plenty of time for you and Enji to bond," Trish said in amusement.

"So what do I do with it...him, when I do get a call for a job?" Dante asked. "I don't have money for a babysitter."

"If you need someone to keep an eye on him, you can always ask me." Kyrie said hopefully. "And we've made arrangements to have the nursery equipment delivered here, so you don't have to worry about buying anything new. And if you ever need anything, I'm just a phone call away."

"Does that mean I have to keep him?" Dante grumbled.

"Oh, I'm sure you two will get on just fine."

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Baby Year 1/2

Dante wasn't happy, and for a long time he professed this to everyone he came in contact with. As though he didn't already have a hard time getting some decent rest in, it had become a mission in itself to catch some shut eye with a baby under his wing. Not that Enji himself was the problem – it was everything that was after him that became a nuisance. A month after having his pride and joy, Devil May Cry, turned into what could have passed for a crèche, Dante woke up in the middle of the night with the sound of the baby making little choking noises in his cot.

He'd been too tired to get up right away, and listened intently for the faint noise to pass. Enji had a knack for choking on his pacifier at night, and Dante waited for the little guy to spit out, just like he always did. There was a moment of silence, and Dante closed his eyes again, relaxing.

Another faint noise rose from the cot ominously. Dante rolled out of bed, exhausted, and bent over the side of the cot in the dark, blindly patting down the writhing little body until he felt the head. His fingers trailed down to grab hold of the dummy, and curled around something hot and rubbery instead. Dante's fingers clenched into a fist, and he ripped whatever the hell it was away from the baby. The moment he did, Enji's distraught cries sliced through the cold night.

Whatever it was, it was strong and struggling vigorously in Dante's grip. There was a cold numbness that shook through him, and he found the light switch. Hairy demons clung to the ceiling like flattened spiders, green eyes flinching at the sudden brightness, long tentacles drooping down to the floor like streams of black rubber. Soul suckers. Dante sent a wary glance at the wailing Enji, his little face bright red and tears running down the side of his face. The numbness turned to deadly steel.

From outside a crazy display of bright flashes could be seen through the upper window of the building, accompanied by ear-shattering gunshots. Once the chaos died down a few minutes later, there was nothing but the sound of a baby's heart wrenching sobs. Then, silence.