My random scribbles and whatnot

[Dante's Stalker]

I just needed a place to come put this, and seeing as I'm mostly writing DMC centred fanfiction lately, I thought I'd put it all in here since it's in cue with the board.
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Here's a doodle when I was feeling vindictive. I used my OC Joe to torment Dante a bit.

-edit-
Oh, no, wait, that was all me. Joe is the demon boy come to play.


...to see the recognition in a devil’s eyes as he comes to know the truth that there is a punishment far, far worse than the eternal flames of hell, that there is a remorseless wrath deeper and fiercer than that of God–

...to watch his pupils contract and the pale blue irises blossom wide, tainted with shattered fragments of derisive acceptance that he had been outwitted and overpowered by a mere mortal such as I. His soul broken, cold, and wildly twisting within my grasp. Anxiety clawed across his pasty features, dampening his smooth skin and gushing down his face. Beads of sweat linger above his lip. I crouch down, I look at him, and he looks at me, and in his eyes there is fury caged by terror . His lips part... nothing passes through them but parched air.
The silence screams out a plea that his worn and frail voice no longer can, and I smile.

“Well, how do you like the home of your father so far?” I drawl. His eyes turn icy at my words. I trace the lacerations that coat his body, follow the inflamed and bleeding welts with the razor tips of my nails, tearing back the tender flesh to let fresh blood stain his skin. He cringes beneath my touch, and painfully slowly brings himself onto his hands and knees. His arms tremble with the effort. Drops of sweat stream down his physique. It sizzles when it lands on the scorching ground.

“I do believe there is an audience awaiting the grand appearance of the son of Sparda,” I purr idly, and watch the jagged hardness in his eyes crumble when steel whips coil around his thigh and chest.

“N-“ His whisper cuts off. The whips wrench him back and drags him across the blistering ground, toward the end of the black confinement where the flames dance high and glorious. His fingers dig into the soil. The skin of his fingertips blister from the fiery friction. Then he’s airborne; the whips lift him high, swings him recklessly out above a crowd of snarling, malicious, twisted demons. They reach up their claws and swipe at the air beneath his head; they snap their canines at his fingers with menacing growls and mad laughter. They were like a pitiful pack of starved wolves – he was the tenderised piece of meat, dangled mockingly just out of their reach.

The demon holding the demonic whips within its grasp steps out from the shadows; a young man with hair as void of colour as his own, and eyes as black as the arctic seas. The devil resists, struggling against the hold. The whips squeeze tighter, slicing into his flesh, locking him in place; and another whip scratches down the length of his body, leaving bloody ravines in its wake.

More sweat runs. His lips curl down and quiver in disgust, and he fights against the urge to cry out. He scowls hard, grasps onto his composure – and succeeds not to yield to the tears of mortification prodding his being. Indeed, a son of the legendary Sparda.

His mouth is held shut with stubborn pride, and his screams of agony and degradation and fury remain trapped within his throat.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Deleted scene from A Futile Second Chance.
Enji and Vergil meet for the first time. This also gives away my plot twist, but anyway.
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The excitement in the room was nearly tangible. The usual banter about flooring their matched opponents was absent on this last day. This was it. The big finale. The Firestorms – the small team from Metropolis that everyone had initially underestimated – were going up against the Glaciens from the feudal city Fortuna. The town where Sparda allegedly once roamed. Everyone knew the story, and everyone’s bets were on the Glaciens. Fortuna had bred thorough fighters. They were the best – everyone had known they would be in the finals.

Nobody had counted on the newbie team to be the last to beat. It was motivating.

Enji wound the deep red handwrap around his knuckles, and observed his teammates from his bench. Peyton was stretching his muscles. Tim and Justin were doing a practice run for warm-up. Bryan was doing his meditation off in a corner. Sandy was beating the crap out of a punching bag. It was an exhilarating feeling to know that when this week started, everyone had raised their eyebrows at the Nobodies. Now the name Firestorms was on every tongue.

And it was a thrilling experience. They were going up against the Glaciens. The team that had never been beaten in the National Combat Tournament, because they consisted of the most elite fighters to ever grace the earth. Enji’s heart was beating in steady anticipation. This was going to be the fight of the century.

Coach Rusty stepped into the locker room and cleared his throat to catch their attention. “This is going to be a tough fight guys. Just remember that nothing is impossible – we have a chance to win the title of National Champions. We wouldn’t be here right now if we didn’t match up.”

“You lookin’ a bit nervous there, coach,” Tim taunted lightly. “I thought we were the ones facing off with these unbeatable foes.” A chorus of humble chuckles from the others followed his comment, but Coach Rusty had no trace of humour on his face for a change.

“I have a few details about who you’re facing off against. Bryan, you’ll be fighting McMahon. You’re shorter than him – use that to your advantage in every way you can.” Coach Rusty said.

“You went to spy on the other team?” Sandy asked and punched Enji lightly in the arm. “Looks like Enji’s bad influence on you, coach. Cheating isn’t in the game plan.”

“Hey,” Enji huffed, and struggled to get his fight gloves on. Sandy rolled her eyes and went to his aid.

“Tim, you’re up against Keith. He’s a kicker, so move in close and use your fists,” Coach continued, undeterred, “And Sandy, you’ll be fighting Ivy. She’s renowned for her left hook, so watch her. Peyton, you’ve been matched with Dean, and Justin, you’ll be fighting Sven.”

There were collective mumbles from the team. Enji caught Coach’s sharp stare, and got to his feet. “And who am I fighting?”

Silence fell, and all eyes swivelled to fix on Enji.

“****, Enji...” Sandy started, doing a double-take at Coach. “I thought they’d match Peyton up to the King.”

“The King?” Enji repeated.

“The dude’s been with the Glaciens for five years.” Bryan nodded with a frown. “Can we switch fighters, Coach? Enji doesn’t stand a chance against him. He’s a first timer, it won’t be a fair fight.”

“Hey, it’s the judge’s decision who goes up against who, not mine.” Coach Rusty held his hands in surrender, and looked at Enji with a peculiar smirk. “They match the fighters as equally and fairly as possible. The King keeps his technique tight, and he’s got reflexes like a rattlesnake. A lot of people say his fighting is flawless, and as of yet he’s never lost a round. He has an intimidating rep to knock out his opponent in the first twenty seconds of the fight.”

Enji slammed his padded fists together. “I’ll beat him by ten.”

Coach Rusty’s grin turned unstable. “Alright, guys. The same rules apply – all kicking skills, all punching skills, all knee strikes to the body and head are allowed. No stalling or else points will be given to the opposition. Keep your discipline – this is not a personal vendetta, this is a competition to prove the best fighter. I don’t want to see any brawls break out during or after the fight, Tim.”

“What?” Tim said innocently, and shrugged mournfully. “’kay, Coach.”

“ Listen to the ref. If he says stop, you distance yourself from your opponent immediately. Always keep your eye on the target. The judges will be looking for good technique, and no illegal moves or you’ll be disqualified from the tournament. Enji.” Coach Rusty paused to look at him pointedly.

“Gotcha, Coach.” Enji mumbled guiltily.

“Knockout scores the team 15 – 0. That’s what we’re aiming for.” Coach Rusty finished. “Any questions?”

“I think I sprained my wrist.” Sandy piped up.

Everyone turned to stare at her in disbelief. Enji broke the horrified silence. “I knew you were going too wild on the punch bag.”

“We need you to fight, Sandy!” Justin exploded. “We don’t stand a chance in hell with one player less.”

“She’s chickening out.” Bryan added in dismay.

“I am not!” Sandy said, suddenly looking very small under her teammates’ blazing glares.

“Sandy, this is no time to get cold feet,” Coach Rusty said.

“I’m not...”

“I’ll hang here with her for a bit. Maybe if we soak that wrist in some hot water, you’ll be good to fight.” Enji interrupted.

Sandy sent him a grateful look, and Coach Rusty reluctantly agreed. “I’ll come fetch you when it’s your round.”

Enji watched the others file out of the locker room, and turned to Sandy in disappointment. “I really wanted to watch them fight, y’know.”

“I’m sorry.” Sandy shrugged sheepishly. “I guess I just got too pumped up.”

Neither of them spoke again for a while. There was absolute silence in the locker room when Enji got a bucket of steaming hot water and put it on the bench between them. Sandy saturated her arm up to her elbow in it. They could hear the judges announcing the fighters to step into the ring, heard the crowd burst into encouraging screams.

Each match was only a minute long. It sounded short, but for their age range it was almost too long. Non-stop fighting from the word Go until the bell rang, or the ref called it over, or a knockout took someone down. Constant kicking, constant fist launches – it gave one hell of a workout, and got harder the longer you kept at it.

With their time limit, they had to pull out all the stops. Produce the goods or face annihilation.
Tim was the first fighter called in. Enji listened quietly. There was a collective ‘oooh’ from the crowd – somebody had taken a hard blow, and a good one, if the cheers were anything to go by.

The bell sounded like a goose being run over by a truck, signalling the end of the round. Enji stared at Sandy’s arm. They didn’t have a lot of time. He hoped she’d get her nerves back in check by the time coach called for them.

“The King broke my brother’s collarbone in last year’s tournament.” Sandy said quietly at his worried glance. “He hasn’t been able to continue martial arts ever since, and he was really good, Enji.”

“So?”

“So what if... you know... what if that happens to me?”

“I don’t see what you’re worried about, Sandy. I’m the one fighting the King, and besides, if this chic has such a great left hook then her right isn’t that good, and neither are her kicks. Take her down with a roundhouse kick. Attack her from your left. You can do it if you concentrate on what you’re doing.” Enji said, and rubbed his arm across his face to wipe away the beads of sweat starting on his forehead. “Just remember, this is only the first half. The second half will go easier because you’ll have a feel for her moves.”

“If I don’t get knocked out.”

“If you don’t get knocked out.” Enji agreed and blew out his breath.

“I’ve never seen you this nervous before.” Sandy said.

“I’ve got reason to be, don’t I?” Enji said dryly. “I’m used to beating demons to death, not fighting brawny humans. I’m going to have to tone it down for this King dude.”

“He’s not brawny.” Sandy said, and frowned. “He’s actually rather skinny. Well, toned is a better word, I guess. I can’t remember, I’ve only ever seen him in the ring. Don’t let his appearance catch you off guard, though. A lot of people underestimate him because he doesn’t look like the other fighters.”

The door burst open, and Peyton appeared with a red face and a raw cut right beneath his eye. “Sandy, you’re up.”

“Okay,” Sandy muttered, grabbing a towel up and drying her arm.

Enji helped secure her fight gloves back on. “You ready to kick some ass?” he asked, peeking at her curiously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Sandy said.

They jogged out of the locker room and up the narrow aisle that led through the bleachers and onto the fighting ring. Ivy was already in the blue center of the large circular ring, and all eyes were on Sandy. Enji gave her a pat on the shoulder for good luck, and went to join his teammates’ bench on the side of the ring. They all looked like they’d been through a war, with their discoloured and bleeding faces. Enji sank down between Justin and Tim, and tried to peer across the broad fight ring at the rivalling team seated on the other side.

The bell rang. Sandy and Ivy jumped into action. Enji was satisfied to see Sandy had listened to him and was getting good hits in. He rose from the bench, squinting to get a clearer view of the Glaciens. Where was this dickhead with the ego he was going to wipe out?

Hands suddenly seized hold of him and flung him back into the bench. He almost went crashing right over but Justin caught him in time. The instant he saw blue, his first thought was that the opposing team was getting too worked up and wanted to come cause ****. The thought fled his mind when Coach Rusty didn’t intervene, and his teammates didn’t get up for a hustle.

Enji’s gaze lifted to meet a pair of familiar blue eyes, round and alarmed right that moment. The pretty face thrust into his, and her small hands got his blazer in a choke hold.

“Ali?” Enji stared at her, stumped. “What are you doing here?”

“No...****, Enji... what are you doing here?” Ali hissed frantically.

“I’m fighting the King. I thought you weren’t into violence?” Enji said, staring up at her in genuine bewilderment. “You didn’t drive all the way out here just to see me fight, did you?”

“No, you dimwit, I’m here to root for my brother.” Ali shot back, and shook him hard. “Enji, you need to get the hell out of here.”

“Chill out, babe,” Enji said, grabbing her hands and holding onto them. “I’m in the tournament, too. I can’t just back out. Who’s your brother?”

“The King, you ass.” Ali said, and her voice actually trembled. “Enji, you can’t be here. You have to go home. Right now. You can’t fight my brother.”

“Oh. That’s what you’re worried about.” Enji said, relaxing. “Tch, and here I thought you were worried about me.”

“Damn it, Enji,” Ali wrenched free of his grasp. “You don’t understand. You can’t fight my brother... it’s not right.”

“Why, because you know I’m totally going to macerate him?” Enji asked with a ****y grin. “I’ll go easy on him, but I am going to win.”

The bell shrieked, and Ali physically jumped at the sound. She dug her fingers into his arms, and tugged at him desperately. “It’s not fair, Enji. It’s not right. I’m trying to protect you, damn it, stop looking like a confident little rooster.”

“Last fight for the first half – for the Firestorms, let’s hear it for Enji!” the announcement boomed over the speakers, and Enji rose to his feet, disengaging Ali’s pleading hands from him.

“We’ll still be friends after this, right?” Enji grinned and messed up her hair playfully as his teammates and the Metropolis supporters roared for him.

“If you survive.” Ali said in defeat when Enji brushed past her and leapt into the ring, raising his arms in a convivial embrace to the noise made just for him.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

-Deleted scene continued-

“And for the Glaciens, the highly regarded, the invincible, the King of Combat – let’s welcome Vergil!”

The deafening shouts and whistles and wild applause that followed, drowned out Enji’s own crowd and shook the walls like thunder. Enji stared at the spectators in apprehension, momentarily dissuaded by having his spotlight stolen, before turning to face the boy stepping into the ring across from him.

Enji took only a moment to measure him up before every nerve in his body was set on fire. He was eye level with his opponent – they had the same build. An even match. Too much of a match. Enji rubbed his eyes hard and blinked slowly, staring at the guy in blue in front of him.

****.

He could see his own thoughts reflected back at him in the other boy’s face. Enji’s daze was short lived, however, when the only thing that made logic in his mind surfaced. It was a demon. Some ****ing shifter walking around with his face. Why it was here, Enji didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Killing demons was what he did best. This was going to be sweet.

Enji followed through with the usual procedures, tapping his padded red fists with his opponent’s blue ones. It was meant as a gesture to say I’m ready. But today, Enji meant it as a message; I’m going to destroy you. The boy picked up on the vibe, and straightened up while taking a step back.

“Fight!” The ref hollered.

The boys circled one another, fists held ready. Enji dodged back and forth, waiting for the first blow to be thrown. It didn’t come. The boy kept at bay, sidestepping and backing off. It wasn’t hesitance – it was reluctance. Enji could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to fight.

The ref appeared between them in a blur of black, and a yellow card was waved at them both in turn. “Passivity! Passivity!” The ref shouted, “Now fight!”

Enji’s mouth dropped open, his complaints residing silently in his head. Anger kicked in. He streaked forward abruptly and unleashed a tight combo of power punches in his opponent’s mid-section before dodging out of reach again. He’d caught the boy off guard, but only for a second.

Vergil’s lips quirked into an arrogant smile. He recovered from the blows quickly, and smoothly ducked out of the way when Enji threw a sharp spinning back fist at him. He thrust a left jab, but Vergil moved fast and avoided the blow. He kept Enji at bay with long kicks, displaying an aerobic endurance of someone well conditioned to fight. His technique was sharp, and nearly as unpredictable as Enji’s own.

Enji countered Vergil’s left hook with a kick, and came back with a punch that landed hard against his neck. For a moment they were right up in each other’s faces, clenching onto one another.

“C’mon, you poser. Show me why they call you the King.” Enji snarled in his face and broke away from the boy with a knee strike into his chest, when he saw the ref get ready to call out another penalty.

Something in Vergil’s expression changed.
Enji was too slow to dodge the jump spinning heel kick and Vergil’s foot painfully connected with the side of his face. Enji stumbled but caught himself, blinking in dazed surprise, before retaliating with a straight-on, brutal front kick that sent Vergil staggering. He was deceptively quick, though, and had recovered before Enji could take another breath. Vergil delivered a good uppercut, but Enji stood solid against the blow with a mocking, stony expression that portrayed a silent ‘is that all you’ve got?’ taunt. He blocked a right punch from Vergil before executing an inside leg kick that would have had any guy flat on the floor. Vergil barely flinched. They exchanged a series of body shots in succession, with enough force to convince Enji he had a few cracked ribs by the end of it - and that Vergil was no better off than him. Equal power, equal speed, equal resilience. ****, it was a nightmare.

Enji let out an audible breath of relief when the bell screamed to end the match. He froze when Vergil held his fist out to him. Normally Enji would butt his fist against his opponents’, a sign of respect and no hard feelings, but he didn’t this time. He gave his fist one look, and stepped away from Vergil warily. The ref took position in between them, and they waited quietly to hear the score. Enji’s eyes didn’t leave Vergil.

It was a tie. Enji nearly lost control of himself when Vergil started to back away from him. He advanced on the other boy, and drew up short against the burly ref.

“Get to your team, son.” He grumbled in a no-nonsense voice.

Enji watched with furious eyes when Vergil stepped out of the ring and joined his team.

“Enji! Get over here!” Ali’s voice cut above the din of the crowd.

He turned his head in the direction of her voice, and strolled toward her. He didn’t stop – he grabbed hold of her shoulder and steered her past his team, and right past the bleachers before hurling her into the locker room. “What the hell is going on here!”

“Damn it, Enji, I told you to leave.” Ali said defiantly, jerking out of his reach.

“Who is he?” Enji demanded.

“My brother, I told...”

“Don’t screw with me, Ali! What is it? Is he a demon – a shifter?” Enji growled.

Ali backed up against the wall, pale and trembling. “What, you mean like Trish? No. He’s no more devil than you are.”

“Why does he have my ****ing face?” Enji thundered.

“He’s your twin, stupid.” Ali shot back, and sobered up when Enji stepped away from her abruptly. “****, Enji, I’m sorry... you weren’t supposed to find out about him, I’m sorry!”

“Why?” Enji asked curtly.

“Because mom and dad... because it will be dangerous... because Vergil had to... “ Ali’s eyes lit up suddenly. “Ask him! He can tell you.”

“I’m asking you.” Enji prodded her in the stomach angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was my understudy? You had plenty of chances to.”

“Are you kidding? Enji, I’m not even supposed to be in the same city as you, least of all be friends with you.” Ali protested weakly. “We’re not supposed to exist.”

“Does Dante know about him?” Enji asked. His eyes narrowed to slits when Ali blanched. When she didn’t answer, Enji thought he was going to tear down the walls. “He knows?”

“It’s complicated.” Ali shifted uneasily. “He doesn’t know Vergil is alive.”

“What-“ Enji broke off, and pressed his palms to his eyes. “****. Ali, what the hell is going on?”

“Enji, just walk away from this. You can turn around and just walk away from this now.” Ali pleaded. “If you don’t, he’ll track us down. He’ll track us through you, through Dante, and he’ll kill us all.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The Devil.” Ali hissed.

“Right.” Enji said dubiously. “And he’ll want to kill you why?”

“Because he wants us all dead, dip****. Because of Sparda. You know how the story goes, don’t you?”

Enji gave her a deadly look. “The fairy tale?”

“Sparda is real. Where do you think Dante got the sword from, a hobby shop?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Enji said.

“Did he ever tell you he’s the son of Sparda?” Ali licked her lips.

“No. Demons call him that a lot, though.” Enji said, and shook his head. “Wait, what the hell does Sparda have to do with me having a twin?”

“Well... he’s my dad.” Ali said uncomfortably.

“Ah-huh. That would make Dante my brother too, then wouldn’t it?”

“No. Not really.” Ali cringed. “You’re not actually related to Dante.”

“And you need to start making ****ing sense before I slug you.”

“Well I told you it’s complicated!”Ali wailed. “Nobody knows who you really are except for us, and we’re not telling anyone. If we slip up, everything Vergil has done will go to ****. Everyone thinks you’re Dante’s son, possibly even Nero’s. They think you’re the fallen knight that will rise again, from the prophecies. That’s why they’ve been trying to kill you. The Devil is coming, and we don’t know when, but when he does all hell is going to break loose on earth.”

“I never heard anything more retarded in my life. If I’m not this fallen knight, then who is?”

“I can’t tell you, idiot.”

“I have a right to know who’s ass I’m risking my life for.”

“Enji, stop it.”

“No, Ali, you’re telling me that I’ve been used as a decoy to distract demons, so that you and your wanna-be-cool brother and your legendary father can all have a happy, demon-free life. Right?” Enji slammed his fist into the wall.

“We had to separate you at birth, break all ties before there could be any, or else it would have just been like history repeating itself! The only person in this world strong enough and competent enough to keep you safe is Dante.” Ali shouted back. “It wasn’t by choice, we did what we had to. Vergil didn’t want this, he didn’t plan for things to go awry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Oh. Well, pity. He kinda ****ed up, didn’t he?” Enji shot back.

“It’s not his fault! You don’t know what he had to go...” Ali paused suddenly, breathing hard, and tried to gather her composure. “You’re not getting back in that ring, Enji. Vergil doesn’t deserve to meet you under these circumstances. He went through a lot for you.”

“Auw, I’m touched,” Enji made a mocking bow. “I hate to break it to you, Ali, but I’m going to finish this fight and win.”

 

[Dante's Stalker]

^I didn't get to put enough description in but this is the basic setting I envisioned:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nyLC36xj_Uo&p=BF21FAC2219CC0C1&playnext=1&index=45

I ish a WCL fan

Actions speak louder than words, aye! :wub: Timmy Connors :wub:

 

[Shadow]

:O Remind me not to get on Joe's bad side. >_> Or on yours, as a matter of fact. *watches Marcus hide**facepalms*

EEP! :wub: I wish I could write fighting scenes like you.... They seem to flow so well. X3 *has gone into rabid fangirl mode at the thought of Vergie fighting*

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Thankies my friend

Heh heh heh heh XDDDDDDD

*has gone into rabid fangirl mode at the thought of Vergie fighting*

ROFL! :lol:

 

[Shadow]

You're welcome. ^^

Hehe. X3 Well...as long as he doesn't get hurt that is.... :/ *ignores Marcus' facepalm*

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Genre: poetry/emotional/life
Buttons
Sick in my head
Sick in my soul
The darkness inside me
Is out of control

I can’t live
I want to die
I’m drained and alone
No fight, all cry

Life is good
Cheer up, you say
The sun is shining
But to me it’s all black and gray

I’m angry
I’m low
You’re not in my head
You don’t feel, you don’t know

Chin up
Shake it off
Deny how I feel
Or the world will scoff

It’s in me
It’s black death
It feeds on itself
It kills me with every breath

I hate it
Don’t want it
I don’t want your sympathy
I need you to just shut it

Don’t give
Idle encouragement
Or judge me for how I feel
Just give me some acknowledgement

I’m hard hit
With despair
This sickness is killing me
And your judgement is unfair

Your button
is pressed on
life and all it has to offer ;
enjoy the good before it’s gone.

I’m not so lucky
To be blessed
With hope and love and happiness;
My life button is depressed.

 

[Dante's Stalker]

DMC fandom
T rated
All innuendo intended

Adios Aphrodite snippet

“This is a whole new level of hell,” Dante murmured.

“I heard that!” She snapped in a voice that made him cringe.

“Now see here, lovely,” she continued soothingly, “I had no choice. Humans are so incredibly biased about love that war is waged when ones perspective of it does not fall in line with another’s. I could not group them all together as I had wished. The homosexual couples judge the cross-dressers and bisexual harshly and label them outcasts, yet they lament to me when the heterosexual units refuse to accept lesbian and gay couples into their community, and the asexual individuals...well, they couldn’t be bothered so I have naught to do with them.”

Dante raised his hand at hearing her last words. “I’m asexual.”

Aphrodite ran the tip of her finger delicately down his lips, tilted his chin up and smiled knowingly in his face. “Nice try, Dante, but I am the goddess of love and I know what your heart desires.”

“Y’know, and I thought Nevan was bad,” Dante sniffed, narrowing his eyes at her as she began to glide away.

“Tsk, Nevan knows nothing of love,” she said dismissively over her shoulder.

“So if you really know what I want, what the hell am I still doing here?”

“Only you can answer that yourself.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dante growled and let out an annoyed sigh when the deity disappeared in a puff of pink and purple mist. “Your island sucks, lady!”

 

[Dante's Stalker]

Genre: original/ supernatural fiction
I See You (working title)

The weather was in a foul mood, grumbling high above and snapping lightning at the ground below, when Dante came upon the insignificant town of Bluewood Valley. He had been here before, back in the day when this was the site of a pagan village. Though it's something quite different that has brought him here this time.

Dante could sense where he's been. His face flared up in the thoughts of the people he passed by. They stopped and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to greet them. He didn’t spare them a glance.

He retraced the steps his brother had left behind. He’s made it too easy to be found here. The town was small and it took Dante less than an hour to cross it from top to bottom. He paused only to look up at the sharp, sloping cliff that jutted horrifically into the darkened sky. He strolled across the last part of the beach, staring distantly at the ancient building with a crucifix mounted on the roof that signified its main purpose. The church looked abandoned – the dark windows were dusty, and weeds grew tall and ugly from the mounds of beach sand littering the parking lot and pavement.

The hike up the back of the cliff was tough with the wind pushing back at him as if it were trying to keep him away. He could sense his brother strongest here, and yet the essence grew stronger with every step he took against the punishing wind. The moment the thought occurred to him that Mikael might very well still be in town, on this very cliff, Dante felt an old familiar chill drop to his stomach.

He reached the top of the cliff – a small section of the rock that flattened out a few steps before it fell away to the restless black water below.

Part of him expected to see his twin lounging there, possibly wearing some or the other designer brand clothing, probably all in black, definitely with that mischievous smirk on his face that seemed to say ‘I know you too well’.

But it wasn’t Mikael at the top of the cliff. His aura was incredibly strong, but the persona it coated was a stranger. Dante wondered for one frustrated moment if this was another trick of Mikael’s, a way to throw him off his track by leaving decoys behind.

He wanted to shout. He wanted to pound his fists into the ground like the wind was pounding into his body. And then he realised that the person wearing Mikael’s aura was standing on the ledge, long hair whipping wildly around her like gold paint thrown against a grey canvas, her slim and undefined figure swaying back and forth treacherously as the wind tugged at her.

Her purpose for being there became clear to him and blazed white-hot through his temper and into his core. He didn’t know her, knew he should care less for someone who wore the stench of his brother because she was as lost as Mikael. But unlike his determination to track down Mikael and stop him for the greater good, the compulsion he felt to stop her was deeper rooted and more empathetic.

Dante ventured a step forward and called out to her. The wind swallowed the sound of his voice, tore at her long skirts viciously – and then she was gone. He darted forward and, despite his nerves shuddering in resistance, he leapt after her. It never got any easier to suppress his survival instincts. It was still as hard as the very first time he forced himself to keep control.

The fear of death beat in his racing heart as he fell after the girl. A scream was stuck in his chest, and his insides felt all out of place. It didn’t matter. That was human instinct. He was more than that. Dante spread his hands before him, aiming his body as well he could along the massive pull of gravity. He reached her; his fingertips touched the teasing hems of her clothes, then his fingers clutched the fabric into a tight fist, and his arm came around her back and anchored itself across her chest. It took a lot of force, and willpower, to twist them both around.

Dante held his breath, gripped the girl tighter against him, and pinched his eyes closed in the second before the icy water filled the void around them. The impact shuddered through his body and sent a million stars blazing through his skull. He waited a second for his bones to absorb the shock before he started kicking his way back to the surface.

He stayed above water only long enough to speak into the trembling girl’s ear, “Hold your breath,” and then he dragged them both back underwater.

Dante had always been a good swimmer, but he was going against one of nature’s strongest forces as he kicked against the tide and rolling waves. A few seconds later, with his chest burning for air and his head spinning, they broke free of the darkness around them and sucked in loud, deep breaths.

“Why did you-“ the girl started.

“Swim. Swim, now!” Dante cut in, giving her wrist a tug that said she had no other option.