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Dreams Will Be Made Of These	By : Britt_601 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3810 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry or its characters. Blah, blah, blah-no money is made off of this either.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter 11: I Want Some Answers, Soon Enough

Low-leveled lights illuminated her 'specialty' room. Instruments of rusted and blood-dried devices hung in proud display on damp, stone walls. Stale copper thickened the air, decayed demon and human remains adding to the pungent aroma.

In this very space, she fashioned new hardware to experiment on whatever she wished. The tofana scissors she created maintained a favorite in her collection, and that grimy bastard got his hands on it.

Rosemary and lilac imbued the powerful weapon, able to harm the damned with proficiency. Rosemary happened to be a repellent against lesser, demonic creatures, becoming handy when she forced lechers to do some of her dirty work. Lilac disguised the smell enough and it stayed as a cherished scent.

An opened book donned gold-trimmed sheets, its pages revealing an ancient demonic language holding a vast amount of dark sorcery. Gritted teeth clenched a tightened jaw, ticking every few seconds, turning the pages in quick lumps with her pincer, searching towards the section on recovery spells.

“Where the fuck is it!” Her teeth grounded, reaching under the table to yank the drawer out, grabbing her favorite materialistic stress reliever. While she believed humans are worthless and despicable, they created enjoyable necessities to entertain her on the surface world; which brought her to her current problem: opening the package. Sure tearing the pack garnered no hassle, however she didn't carry fire-type devices in her torture room. Many demons are prone to flames, so fire was a no-no unless needed.

Mundus' departure left the Underworld in dissaray. Devils climbed over each other for power, caring less who they scorned along the way. A time or two she envisioned to reign as Hell's Queen, yet she didn't have the patience for false loyalties and rebellions.

Mortals are much easier targets to rule... once their protector couldn't guard them.

She ripped open the carton, taking out a lone cigarette, rolling the tip in her mouth. Her scowl deepened, glancing at the sump of her hand. The stinging of her now-numbed limbs subsided, thanks to the venom in her blood acting as an anesthetic in result of her serious injuries.

Perhaps luring the hybrid out here was a mistake. The Scorpion Queen should have stuck to her original plan: order hordes of demons to collectively distract him then sneak in to deliver the final blow. A remote location bid to add bonuses to her strategy. When overwhelmed with the absurdity of their numbers, no one could aid him; his human side harbored his weakness with the onset of fatigue.

Eusimalkia needed a starting point for her fountains, discovering the Barnes' manor and its reclusive surroundings.

Through secret meetings with the youngest child, Ramona Barnes, she convinced the human of the riches and notoriety gained besides her family inheritance. The Barnes' fortune widened the bad blood existing between her siblings; she just needed a little 'push' to join her crusade.

Along with evicting the current tenants. Permanently.

The monetary advantage from her fresh neophyte allowed the increase of converts to carry out her plans, gathering materials for her while she laid out the foundations of her kingdom.

Ramona had left since this morning, running errands and recruiting followers to bring them back for their initiation. Her convert kept a personal notebook on her subordinates and their successful tasks completed; many had failed, even fewer survived.

The smoke shifted between her lips, pondering where she could find a lighter or some matches. The only time fire breathed life was when the altered believers cooked that ghastly smelling food in the kitchenette.

Meals meant kitchen. Kitchen meant stove. Stove means...

"Let's fire away then," she muttered in a hushed tone.

A smile broadened her face upon finding the chapter of healing properties; hazel eyes scanning over the sections to lead to her recovery. A focused sight hardened when the incantation popped up, reading each word in silence before repeating the words aloud. After reviewing the spell, she inhaled deeply, both in content and satisfaction, knowing this enchantment would heal her.

Darkness prevails, darkness falls

Into the light, the fallen will crawl

Creeping torture, suffering defeat

As a sheep who rejoices at the wolf's retreat

The darkest day, the lightest night

Reverses the balance to whom's delight

Justice will prevail in eternal rebirth

To give rise to those to reclaim their worth.

A greenish-blue light encased her form, closing her eyes after a dark, prickling magic worked its wonders.

One by one her appendages connected to her re-grown feet, taking in a deep sigh of relief, regaining the familiar sensation within them. Her tail conjoined to her body, whipping behind her in strong curves followed by her delicate but powerful hand.

Any wounds she had sealed up, giving her an extra dose of invigoration she highly welcomed. Eusimalkia flexed her human wrist, bending and straightening the dainty digits before wrapping them in her disheveled locks. Her fingers raked through her hair, smoothing it down before determining its presentable state. The she-scorpion closed the book, wondering if the halfling still stuck around after her enforced retreat.

"This time, you will remember my name before I take your head," she hissed in a baleful tone.

"Oh fuck!" the teen gritted out a wheeze. The hard impact on the stone brick floor did nothing to cushion his fall with the heavy half-devil planted on top of his prostrate form, in the most compromising position of all.

His torso turned to the side to expel the sudden sucked-in air from the pain he sensed in his nether region. Short breaths escaped his lungs to refrain from whining in distress. Whatever landed on his crotch, (hoping it's Dante's belt buckle) collided with his sensitive anatomy.

The elder mis-judged the grip on the kid's right arm; the jerk of him breaking away from the hold positioned his landing on the runt.

At the last minute, one hand cupped behind Nero's head while the other slid onto his lower spine. The force of the collision crushed his left palm between Nero's body and Red Queen, but he still retained feeling in it so he would be fine. Yet he wasn't so sure about the rest of Nero's anatomy due south.

Nimbly bent knees leaned widely in the opposite direction with quivering thighs; though Dante hadn't a clue why but he guessed his belt buckle took the blame. The kid's armored digits on his back oddly comforted a forgotten sensation; the bringer piercing the skin on his neck... not so much. As enticing the action to let Nero crack his skull, he needed to have his help when dealing with her.

A light tint of cherry bloomed on either hunter's cheeks, the teen from Dante laying on top of his most private area and Dante resting in such a way on Nero. If the circumstances happened a little different, say both hunters had a few too many or a bet gone wrong, then the situation wouldn't appear as awkward.

Which made Dante think, is Nero in that much pain to lay there instead of shoving the chieftain off of him, or did his embarrassment run too deeply? He didn't hit his head on the ground too hard because the veteran cushioned it with his hand. Then again, why hadn't he moved from him when he knew the kid wasn't broken from the fall?

"Well, well, well. Speak of the devil, in every sense of the word," Eusimalkia drawled. How unexpected for the two to still be here; she figured they'll go home and come back later. But that's good they stayed. She can kill them both now.

Both hunters oogled at her in languid stares, blank gapes drawn on their faces upon viewing the she-bitch, that had been seconds away from death, stand fully healed and ready for round two. The men groaned at their new dilemma; the awkwardness of their current situation temporarily forgotten.

A broad smirk crept on her lips, her tail swishing around before dashing forward. Dante pressed his weight into Nero, rolling them over to the other side to avoid her feet. The teenager grabbed onto Dante's shoulders from the sudden movement, sitting on top of the veteran with the swift rush of heat running up his cheeks when they paused. His next move required him to lie on the elder's chest to deflect his head's separation from his body; her stinger thrashing about to strike her opponents.

Dante's hands never removed themselves from their original position, tumbling the both of them over, every attack she attempted threatened to kill them. This tramp and her antics waged on for too long. He knew her reticle pointed towards him and the brat just the decoy. And since Nero was the distraction... he might have to be used again as such. He hoped, for his own sake... and Nero's when he thought about it, that the kid had his improv skills down.

Planning has never been his forte; doing shit out of the blue produced better results.

Without so much as an aforementioned warning, the chieftain reached under Nero's jacket and grasped the hem of his jeans, eliciting a cross between a gasp and a shout from Nero, flinging him towards the lady.

Her eyes widened, not in the least expecting him to pull off a maneuver such as that; the collided force pushed her back a few feet. Dante stood up and withdrew Rebellion, making sure she had no scratches on her from the rough floor.

Knitted eyebrows and down-turned lips graced Nero's face, disbelieving what just happened. What the fuck is he today? A damn projectile or something? Whether Dante did this in retaliation for earlier took its course in the youth's mind. Obviously, the elder turned out to be physically inept to find some other suitable source to throw at the hag. First the stabbing, now this?

He gained recovery from the momentum of the collision, catching sight of Blue Rose skidding out of reach from the tumble.

Cold, sharp ridges encircled his neck in the midst of scampering to retrieve his revolver; the heavy smell of lilac and cigarettes permeating through his nostrils.

"Going somewhere?" she snarled in a taunting voice. Nero assumed the dope kept the broad busy, so why did she pursue him?

"Time to die you, arrogant child!" Her voiced dipped into a layer of arrogance at her assumed, easy prey.

A voice that appeared laden in acid spoke in her ear, startling her away from her goal "Time to die is right."

Dante shifted behind Eusimalkia, a mild jerk spread throughout an injured form a moment thereafter. The left tofana dissipated the red hexed energy used to send the Dark Scorpion Queen's head dropping to the floor, her body twitching in a grotesque condition as her tail, hand and stinger swung around hap-haphazardly from her swift beheading.

Awkward silence spanned over thirty minutes with the sounds of occasional grunts exchanged from the hunters. After Eusimalkia's lifeless body slumped to the floor, Dante offered the teen his hand in a friendly gesture, to which Nero glared at him with reservations.

Images flooded back to the perplexing way they had to dodge her attacks. What would the dummy do this time if he accepted his help? Throw him into the wall until it crumbled so they escaped? Stab him again and give him a spanking?

The hybrid sensed the kid's trepidation, rolling his eyes with a grunt to focus on the room. Nero stood up on two shaky legs, unholstering Red Queen to make sure she sustained no scrapes and scratches on her, thankfully she didn't.

Books, notes, gadgets, and stashes of cash found a new residence with the hunters. With keen eyes surveying the room, the elder discovered an informational booklet containing the names and profiles of converted humans, and the tasks they were given.

Gracious compensation favored these neophytes and their efforts, Dante thinking it a pity for large sums of money to go to waste on filth.

The name 'Ramona Barnes' kept coming up, her initials signed by these transformed mortals, gaining suspicion in her part in all this. Is she a certified accountant? A teller from a loan agency?

No matter the case, he would ask around town on the whereabouts of this Ramona, and he knew a couple scumbags to make them spill the beans or he wouldn't spare them this time.

After scouring the dungeon to their great pleasure and acquiring objects to each other's delight, they found these large, odd-looking rectangular boxes. They resembled a cross between a suitcase and a small coffin; stuffing all the armaments and collectibles inside.

The gateway closed up because its maker lied dead on the floor, hauling the contents to a metal door on the other side of the room. Yamato could open a portal to get them out of there, but Dante was a wee bit rusty when it came to doing that; seeing how he never used Yamato to do so and Nero hadn't popped his virginity to the sword's true power.

A testing push against the metal hatchway let the hybrid know that whatever prisoner she trapped in here had no way out without a key; the door as solid as they come. The chief dropped the big box, unsheathing his 'key' to cut a diagonal line down the doorway; the halves sliding down to the floor in twin pieces. To the hunter's great relief, the dungeon room they stood in doubled as a basement located two stories beneath another door.

Scratchy steps held their weight as they ascended, careful not to slip on the grimy surface and fall back down the staircase. A minute later, Dante kicked open a corridor leading to the familiar kitchen, giving him a new viewpoint of the space they hadn't seen yet. He set his briefcase down, moving aside to usher in a winded Nero to rest from trudging up the stairwell.

"See there, eating that crap will do that to you." The hybrid meant to jest, but the joke tumbled out his mouth sans the playful tone. He didn't really understand why his irritation flowed freely. From the battle with the Scorpion Queen and the information in the notebook, yes but he couldn't put his finger on the other reason.

"Watching King Lardass from behind will do that to anyone," the teen took in a deep breath from walking the steps with a hefty 90 lbs. added from the suitcase. At full strength, that would not have been a problem, but circumstances given...

A pair of silver-white eyebrows rested on the veteran's forehead. Nero blinked once at him, the unintended double meaning of his words echoing in his mind. His cheeks tinted pink when he heard the elder chuckle.

"My ass is breathtaking, isn't it?”

"That's not what I meant!"

"Say what you mean and mean what you say."

"Shut up." Nero dropped the suitcase on the floor with a huff, rolling his shoulders to get the ache out. His thirst called to him, wanting something to quench the dryness in his throat. He looked in Dante's direction after he pulled out some fruit punch, the orange juice long since dripped out of the spilled carton, nearly dropping the container when Dante spoke from behind him.

"Where's this 'King Lardass' comment coming from?"

"Why did you fall on me back there?" A silent but abrupt exhale halted his query from further explanation. Dante's big ego made the teen blurt out the question without choosing his terms wisely.

The inquiry caught Dante off guard, Nero stilling his movements, mouth agape because he didn't anticipate to answer for his actions right away. He could have given any answer, but he decided to give the most truthful-ish.

"You pulled me on top of you."

"Bullshit, like Hell I did!" The teen's visage pinked two shades darker, whether from Nero realizing him to be right or in denial slipped past Dante's judgment.

He secretly hoped for the first choice.

"No one told Nero to yank me into the portal."

"No one told Dante to throw me into the portal."

"Doesn't matter what I say you always gotta give me something back, and you're making me mad." The chief brought his right hand up to noogie the brat, but the youngster caught his wrist with his devil bringer.

"I wouldn't have to give you anything back if you stopped giving me stuff to give you back!"

Humored periwinkles glanced at their touching hands, a grin that would make the Cheshire cat jealous plastered itself on his expression, white chompers gleaming down into Nero's eyes. The kid built himself up to be too much fun for his own damn good. And in situations like that, he'd forget his initial irritation.

"Is my hand included as well?"

The youth cast his eyes downward to see a dirtied palm in his grasp, mouth opening to say something smart and snapping it shut. A pink tongue sucked on straight teeth, gripping his hold a little harder because the question pushed some tolerance buttons off.

In a split second, Nero produced a short battle cry, using the strength of his devil bringer to fling Dante out of the kitchen window, hoping those face things could eat him.

First the dark pink slayer's all moody with... whatever in the dungeon, now he mocked Nero when he wasn't in the mood to joke around. The veteran always griped about the teen's quick-change emotions, when in actuality he needed to double-check his.

A ringing telephone cut through his pondering, following the sound into the destroyed living room, stepping over glass and wooden debris to reach the buzzing object. The cordless phone had fallen on the floor, and had somehow remained intact. After the seventh ring, the answering machine picked up.

"Sorry to whomever is calling, but the Barnes family can't pick up at the moment. Leave a message and one of us will get back to you as soon as possible."

Preceding the memo of the baritone voice came the speech of a light raspy female, with the smallest hint of a country undertone.

"Hey Malkia, it's Ramona. I just wanted to stop and say I've recruited three more 'helpers' to aid you in your plans. Though, it looks like I'll be out here for four more days at Desmond's. I'll call you when I'm coming home with them, all right?"

"So that's our accountant, huh?" Dante listened to the conversation starting in at the 'helper's part. He quickly recovered from the throw by the teen, landing in the center of a desperate Fault.

Recalling the chitchat around the grapevine, Desmond's was a high-class bar serving the dammed and their converts, or simply a hangout spot for crooks. Illegal dealings created a cesspool of thugs, prostitutes, and criminals to live and socialize freely.

Though he personally never went down there for a formal introduction, he remembered what he needed from Trish. That woman delved in the gossip about everything suspicious going on in and out of town.

"Is she their benefactor or something?"

"It seems so."

"You want to try your luck at dating her instead?" he jibed, miffed at Dante's aloof attitude.

"Sure. And if that doesn't work out, I can always throw you in to take over."

Nero's face melted into neutrality, followed by a roll of his eyes, walking towards the kitchen, giving the veteran another look before he disappeared into the hallway.

Her message repeated in his skull, Dante jogging back to the office area where his money resided. On his way to the room, he entertained his thoughts on the whereabouts of her converts. If she had so many of them, where are they?

After searching through the room from top to bottom, he found only a few items worth taking; hoping he found a vehicle to match the Ford key he found.

He swept through the first two floors gathering money, books, weird green gemstones and cash, lugging all the objects to his suitcase.

A Playboy magazine sat on top of the pile in the room he crashed into earlier, Dante picking it up to skim through the scantily-clad women. He stopped on a page with a tanned brunette sitting on a pool table, legs spread wide with her puckered lips blowing on a cue stick.

“Ooh, damn babe!” Several minutes passed with him oogling at the same picture, the random image of Nero's head pressed into his lap kicking her poise out of his thoughts, shattering the seductive scene. Then his psyche roved into dangerous territory, picturing the punk in place of the woman.

His head shook, thinking the time came to leave here before more sordid envisions corrupted his perverted mind.

Nighttime dawned with a strong presence; the moon hidden well behind an expanse of thickened clouds. Carrying all that stuff to his Camaro would be a bother, if it had calmed from the overheating. He didn't exactly remember where he parked his ride since he and Nero took a few twists and turns to get here, so heading in the opposite direction whence they came posed something of a problem. Not to mention the probability of a few demons lurking about.

Speaking of which, where did his hormonal twit of a companion trot off to?

"Yo, kid, don't know what you're doing but it's time to go!"

"I'm in here, you creep!" A voice somewhere distant yelled down the hallway.

He peered into the corridor, wondering where the brat was and what he meant by the word 'creep.' He couldn't have been anywhere near the front living room or else his senses would have picked him up. Dante searched into the distance, rotating his head towards the fledgling's scent growing stronger, heading in the opposite direction of the lounge past the kitchen, a place he hadn't yet ventured to.

The kid's aroma spiked upon nearing a door, Dante taking an extra inhalation, snorting out the smell soon after due to how stinky the kid became. He hoped the twerp had his pants on because he would show how creepy he can be... if this was a bathroom. He gripped the doorknob, turning it to the left and charged in, hoping to hear the squirt scream like a girl.

Isn't that whole surprise-thing what got him into trouble with Nero the last time?

"I knew you'd do something like that, you jackass! What, you thought I was in a bathroom with my pants down?" Nero growled in a low tone, his face scrunching in a glare at the dummy, sitting upon a red, sleek motorcycle.

He congratulated himself in silence, maintaining a straight profile with Dante's childish antics.

A slight shrug and a smirk provided Dante's response, viewing the large garage with a bevy of cars and trucks. Vehicles sported the same Ford symbol, appearing clean and unused from human activity... one he possibly had the key to?

How pleasantly convenient.

On his walk between the cars, he took note of a few flashy sedans with unmarked license plates; maybe the property of the security of this place? Dante pulled the keys out of his pocket, looking at the symbol before sliding his finger towards the alarm. A chirp listened in three coupes away, flashing a silly grin to Nero upon finding his long-term rental.

Carrying those two suitcases in the trunk seemed like a swell idea, seeing no need to have the truck sitting up there to rot, let it be put to good use. He went over to the rear, taking notice of the wide space and how it had more than enough room for the luggage and...

A bike?

Dante turned his head to look over at the kid. The teen eyed the red beauty he sat on in appreciation, one hand placed on the handlebar and the other on his thigh. Iceberg blues glimpsed at the trunk. A knowing smile crept on his face, surveying the pickup's bed. At this rate, Trish could have his Ducati for all he gave a damn.

Nero kicked off the brake and lightly rolled the bike forward; a little devilish gleam showing brightly in his eyes. He didn't know how to ride a motorcycle, but he maintained confidence some 'physical' persuasion to the elder would get him riding in no time...

Yes, ride him like the devil he is.

"I meant the bike you ass!" the teen bit back to silence his dark side.

"Kid, you want to spend a night here?"

As long as you're here, I'm fine with that.

The partial-hybrid froze, giving Dante a scrunched countenance because he refused to even acknowledge the question. In a fit to ignore the man, he rolled the two-wheeled vehicle back and forth again, humming to himself that strange tune he'd heard on the radio from earlier.

"Earth to Nero! Pay attention when someone is talking to you."

Nero halted his movements a second time, eyes narrowed in harm, gazing at the moron.

"What did I say the last time?" The teenager deadpanned. The sooner he left, the quicker he could shower and pass out in his bed. Despite its cozy outlook, this house had evil written all over it.

"Well, you might've changed your answer by then, so what do you say?"

"N-O."

"Even if I stayed?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"I don't want to be here."

"Me either."

What the hell? "...Then why would you ask me if I wanted to?"

"Hey, I offered to be here with you. Besides, ain't no tellin' what other goodies this place is hiding. You could stay here and practically take everything you find interesting and I'll be back in the morning with the two chickadees to pick you up. Plus, you have your night-light to guide you around so you won't attract attention by having the lights on."

His insides prickled with heat, emotions battled with each other to display on his face; apprehension winning over his comrades. Apprehension at the utter foolishness and absurdity at the words spilled out of the red one's mouth.

Absolutely nothing on this earth would possess him to wait, with a dead she-witch downstairs, in a demon-infested house, broken windows, critters living in the backyard, barely edible food, in the middle of nowhere... not to mention being alone... with Dante.

"Are you fucking nuts?"

"People have called me that before."

"If I don't want to stay here with you, then what makes you think I do without you?"

"The offer still stands, kid."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

The angsty tone roved absent, Dante having to blink a few times at the suddenly solemn-sounding Nero. He grew accustomed to the little squirt so that answer was no. Rarely did he encounter any problems out of him except for today.

Actually, Nero wore the introvert tag with pride, only coming out of his bedroom when he needed to shower, eat, or go somewhere. The hybrid remembered the few times when he had to coax the youth just to talk or barricade himself in the spare room to keep the punk from leaving while he did it.

Problems with the girlies created stronger bonding experiences between men and he rejoiced in the company of another male. He grew accustomed to having the brat there. Lady brought shitty jobs and Trish preferred to be a lone adventurer, finding hideouts and the happenings of curious demons. Sure he liked being by himself sometimes, but he also wanted to socialize with someone of his caliber. And to respond to the kid's query again: HELL NO.

"Do you want me to get rid of you?" Now he had his chance to turn the tables, to have a vibe of what really went on in the twerp's mind. If the twat wished to head home to Fortuna, then fine... but not without some major convincing to stay with him a little longer. Bantering with him and getting on his nerves coveted too enjoyable of a pastime to give up.

"Don't answer a question with another one, Dante." A short pause stretched on before Nero responded, fidgeting with the handle, struggling to find the courage for his next words. "If I'm burdening you, I'll be more than happy to leave."

Pfft, liar.

If the youngster wanted him to take him seriously he should look him straight in his eyes, not at the floor. His stance should be tall and erect, not slouched. His tone and speech had to complement his emotions, not hesitate with a low, muttering voice. He hated to see the kid in such a sad disposition because it clashed with his calm state of mind.

"Burden, absolutely not. It's leaning towards trespassing. You have an incredible knack for taking all the hot water when I'm ready to shower," Dante gave a small smirk to hopefully brighten kid's mood.

It almost worked if the garage door didn't open.

The blue slayer mouthed the words 'oh shit' before putting the brake back down on the bike, sprinting towards the hybrid, finding refuge under the truck.

The hunters lied flat on their stomachs as a sleek, silver car revealed itself at the entrance.

"Dammit, we're gonna get caught," Nero said in a strained voice, his voice's pitch heightening.

"Why do you say that?" Dante didn't want to be near someone chickening out when the going got tough.

“The damn light is on!"

The veteran pulled out Ivory, scooting under the pickup more to shoot the switch off. Nero grabbed his hand with his devil bringer, creating this bright radiance under the truck.

"No, you idiot! He'll hear the shot and see the flash from down here!"

"Just like he'll see your blue flashlight? And who said it's a 'he?'"

"… Are you serious? Fine, she will!"

The chieftain semi-dragged the punk the rest of the way under the vehicle, grabbing the kid's sleeve to pull it over his bright, scaly arm. The jean material wouldn't budge from their awkward position, leaving Dante the option to place the kid's arm underneath his red trench to conceal the vivid glow.

Nero stiffened, intent to remove his limb when Dante nipped his ear, akin to the wolf pack's leader nipping their brethren to maintain order. Nero huffed in annoyance but left his digits under the coat, making sure to keep it well above the elder's posterior. He could've folded his demonic branch under his torso, so why did he have to leave it under the jacket?

The sleek car rolled in, coming to an abrupt halt right behind the scarlet Ducati, bright lights cutting off along with the engine. A black, polished shoe, a sock, and the hem of some matching pin-striped pants greeted the hunters' vision. An essence wafted towards the hidden slayers, almost enough to make the red hunter sneeze.

This particular 'perfume' became a common scent the veteran didn't appreciate too much. As of late, he'd been inhaling the strong stench of sulfur, it was the cologne that neophytes wore on them for at least a month before the fume emerged slightly more dormant.

Devils smelled like shitty decay no matter what, but these modified believers bore the odor of arsenic to display their newfound status of a higher power; similar to how dogs sniff each other's asses when recognizing one another or to say hello.

In response to the potent fragrance, his nose began to dance.

His nose scrunched up, wiggled to each side, elongated, moved about in circles then brought a finger up to his nostrils. All to try and silence the sonic blast threatening to expose them.

Nero couldn't help his friend in any way. If he shifted his devil bringer from under the secluded place, the brightness would reveal their hiding spot. He couldn't turn or else the grains on the floor collectively might make a noise. So... he watched and strived not to snigger at the elder's dilemma no matter how dire it seemed.

Two feet placed themselves on the concrete ground, closing the car door to begin walking towards the house in a slow, steady gait. The chief had his gun at the ready, but wanted to refrain from using the firearm to see what this mystery person did.

The stranger sneezed, sneezing again shortly after he inhaled through his nostrils. Dante maintained confidence it was a guy; girls just didn't sneeze that deep. The expensive-looking shoes resumed their stroll until they stumbled upon the rectangular boxes near the garage door.

The shiny loafers kicked one of the boxes, grunting as he squatted to observe the trunks more closely. They exchanged glances before refocusing their eyes on the two polished shoes, adrenaline coursing through their veins for different reasons; Dante with the promise of an unworthy kill and Nero from the potential of being discovered. Slowly, it felt like he headed straight for a life of crime around Dante.

"We 'sposed to be movin' these somewhere?" The secret person, now confirmed to be a male due to the gruff voice, picked up a case only to drop it down because of its unexpected weight. His hands, the hybrid caught a glimpse of, had an unnatural green tint to his cream-toned skin, bulbousy blue-purple vessels popped out from under his flesh. The mystery man wore an olive-collared shirt with a matching pin-striped jacket.

"My Lady," he called out once, unlatching the back of the truck to hoist the box onto there, with obvious difficulty, before joining with its brother. Nero smiled a little because the moron just did him a great service for doing manual labor his muscles ached to do. Taking a nap in the car called to his thoughts... whichever vehicle they borrowed.

"My Queen," he said louder, closing the pickup to walk towards the house, opening the door and withdrawing a pistol.

The hunters had a clear view of the mystery man's head; lemon-hued hair cut short with a few spiky strands to the front. His six foot stature formed a solid, stocky build of about 180 lbs combing through their vision. Dante still maintained height and weight over him, but he looked as if he could stand his ground in a fight... the brawl would probably be over quickly due to the chieftain's combative prowess, but nonetheless...

The stranger went inside the house and Dante moved into action.

"You cover your arm while I go look after the stinky asshole. Be discreet and get in the truck," he whispered.

"Wait, he had cologne on," the youngster muttered back.

"Yeah, but was there something else added to it?"

Nero thought the mystery man sprayed too much pine-scented, air freshener on, though he picked up a unique scent along the mix, but it didn't affect his senses probably as loud as Dante said it did.

"Well, he smells like this... aged fire or gas or something."

"Hell's newest recruit, a human-turned demon, added insect to the surface world, and I'm the exterminator." Dante's voice dipped to a cool whisper, and Nero knew that it was time to go.

He slid his hand from underneath the dark cave of Dante's signature trench, unhurriedly rolling over on his side to pull his sleeve down over his right arm.

The half-breed scooted forward, producing a silent whistle of appreciation, iceberg blues landing on the silver Lamborghini Estoque, taking his sight completely off of the stranger who opened the door to re-enter the garage.

The stranger took in a gasp at seeing a white head with blue irises and a toothy grin smiling back at him.

"Do you know how much tail I'd get if she was all mine? That is one bitchin' ride, dude!"

Nero rolled his eyes, taking his face in his hands, shaking from side to side; in utter disbelief of the idiot joking at a time like this. Not seconds ago he adamantly spoke about leaving!

Dante crawled all the way out from under the truck, walking in confident strides towards the vehicle to have a closer look at it, oblivious to the gaping male. He wouldn't have to work a day more in his life if he owned a Lamborghini. Shit, his confidence struck the idea that chicks would pay him just to sit in it.

"You... you're the son of that demonic asshole!"

His happy grin fell off his face.

"Asshole? Oh no, no, no my friend. He didn't forsake his own kind to become something he's not."

The yellow-blond haired man narrowed his eyes, wondering if he read in between the lines about what the halfling implied.

"He betrayed his brethren to side with a lower species―"

"Look who's talking jackass―"

"Even stooping so low to impregnate a human bit―"

"Bib! Yes, to impregnate a human bib to drool all over her... beauty!" A young voice interjected to diffuse the temper the veteran would surely get. No doubt in his brain the half-hell would transform into a raging devil and rip the asshole's head off.

Having Dante in a content setting perdued something Nero enjoyed seeing him in. Not a happy state because the dope carried on to do and spout stupid things, and not in an angry condition... because he still carried on to say and do stupid things. The red hunter in a neutral frame of mind reposed a vital part to Nero's sanity. And this fucker will not ruin Dante's disposition so he could further deteriorate his health.

The youngster didn't mean to call Dante's mom a beautiful piece of cloth, but he believed calling her one existed to be a million times better than hearing the name on the brink of slipping out of the convert's mouth.

The blond looked over to the truck he placed the two suitcases in, briefly questioning himself, wondering whether it actually spoke.

Since his ascension into demon-hood, he learned about soul merges, almost anything had the ability to come into creation as long as a damned soul paired with it. It very well might be a product of Eusimalkia's creations; she spent most of her days creating devices and conjuring up spells. So... the cases talked?

"Human women are nothing but mere cows, worthless heaps of bountiful flesh to supp from when we demons need our itches scratched."

The green-eyed bandit gave Dante a salacious leer, sizing up his red-clad opponent, finally discovering a good defense to exercise his newfound power.

"What other explanation did your decadent excuse of a father have as a reason to do what he did? Because of his stupidity―"

"Blah, blah, blah. Same song, different day. Don't you hair-brained assholes have better pick-up lines than that? You're boring my legs shut."

The hybrid re-holstered Ivory back in her slot. His name made scumbags tremble worldwide, letting his abilities speak for him; fashioning to demonstrate his skills on this jerkwad.

"Oh, what's this. Little half-reject wants to fight like a man for once? Okay then, you fucking dick, let's roll." A red-orange glow pulsed brightly from the blond man's hand. He took a defensive posture, bending his knees while he brought up his fists in a circular motion to rest at chest level.

"I'm afraid playtime is over for you, mongrel."

"The joke is all on you pal."

A ghostly blue arm shot forth, grabbing the neophyte in a tight hold and pulling him backwards to gain momentum. The owner of the elongated limb launched the delusional bastard into the front windshield of the Lamborghini.

Before the convert recovered to register what happened, the halfling yanked him by his green collar, throwing him onto the ground and giving him about ten solid punches across his face, blood staining his hand, unleashing a little steam on the false lecher. A hard knee slammed into his gut, the man doubling over in agony before the hybrid pulled open the car door, placing the neophyte's head right between the slammer and the driver's seat.

"Now," Dante said in a haughty manner, "This is where we get to play the 'Informant' game, alright buddy?"

A/N: . Dante and Nero got their hands on some goodies, haven't they (and themselves), so we'll see how the rest plays out.
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These