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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
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter 19: Passing Adventures

Her face was almost ugly with anger, willing her physique to succumb to the scalding heat swamping her from all sides. Scars of different ages marred her ivory-toned flesh, each one telling of battles hard fought and the remnants she carried wherever she went. Sleepy eyes scrunched closed, nostrils expanding to inhale the green-apple scented aroma flooding the room.

Once fully settled, she laid her head against the makeshift pillow, stilling her body from any movement but not before turning on the jazz station, Sadè's 'Mermaid' vibrating through the speakers. The recent welts embedded on her skin burned with intensity, dying off into a low pulse the longer she stayed motionless.

A foul premonition loomed on the horizon, sensing its inevitable presence growing in strength. Her oppressors grew aggressive, attacks and strategies implemented that weren't the norm for their usual routine. She had been unprepared as such, charging into battle with the same 'they'll die easily' shtick and never mulling over it. A dangerous procedure to underestimate her enemies no matter how weak and repetitive they became. Still, it wasn't that bad of a challenge; she came out the victor.

The woman crossed her arms, each hand caressing the opposite arm to cool down the stinging sensation burning her, exhaling in bliss because that little tactic worked wonders. Orange manicured toes wiggled in a lazy movement, digits spreading to let the liquid flow in between them. Skin tinged a light salmon pink, though died down to her natural tone the more she stayed neutral. The music eased through the speakers, lulling her to sink further into the water to soak up the relaxation.

This room persuaded her to kill off a few hours in here, leaving a forlorn look on her face when she sadly rejected the offer. Now that she received a break in cutting down her foes, she would milk this vacation for all its worth. Her cellular had rung non-stop, hopefully it could wait until she finished her self-massage before...

RIIIIIIIING!

… someone called for her services.

Her hand lifted up and over to reach the phone resting on top of her discarded clothes, mustering up her cordial tone, the caller interrupted her "me" time. Before she could greet her caller, their voice came through first, albeit a bit angry.

"You like being a bitch, don't you Lady."

Her eyebrows rose. "I'm glad you're alive too, hotshot." The brunette answered back, readying to hang up since the half-breed spoke through his agitation, which he had no reason to.

"Why the fuck did you take my money!"

Oh... now she remembered.

"I thought it was for me, Dante."

"Bullshit! You know damn well that was mine-"

"You're the one who had it lying on the desk. I thought it was for me, can you blame me?" She pulled her left knee in, clutching the phone between her ear and her shoulder, lifting the leg straight into the air and running her hands down the length.

The majority of her recent scars bought residence there, needing to wash them out before she medicated herself. She lowered her limb. "Besides, consider this to be your late fees paid-"

"What!"

Lady snatched the receiver from her hearing, holding it away after the half-devil kept screaming and spewing about his chump change. The last mission she went on produced money he never gave her. That was her job to do and he claimed ownership, why... she didn't know, but she willed to gamble his ego took fault.

And... since the green stack lied there for the taking when she visited the office, she grabbed what he owed her. May have been excessive in the amount acquired, ($2400) however he didn't have to worry about ever paying her back; his debt no longer existed with her.

"Are you done bitching? I'm trying to bathe here."

"Fuck you and your damn bath-"

Again the phone moved away from her ear, rolling her eyes because his rant fell on deaf ears. Nothing he said can anger her, her strong mental barriers stopping his words from reaching the core of her brain.

He would get over it eventually; more than enough demons prowled the area. If he received no calls about the damned, then he can go kill them with his rage. As fun as it is to continue this chat, her relaxing experience seduced her to fall back into its embrace―and she would comply.

"Of all the times I've had to lie around broke because of your money-hungry, grubbing ass! Trish too! The both of you probably make three times as much as me yet you'll always come for my money when I don't have it! Could buy one piece of clothing and that shit ain't even cute! You gold-diggers pawn all of your expenses on me then gripe when I can't pay them! Of all the shit I let you off with, this... this has got to be the worst-"

"Okay, I love you, bye-bye!"

"Don't even think about-"

Click.

"Crybaby." She set the phone on top of her clothes, inhaling the green-apple scented bubbles and exhaling further into the tub, letting the hot water take away her worries momentarily. Dante can moan and complain all he wanted to, because the truth of the matter embodied his inability to return the money he borrowed. If he asked to have some then she would have said no. Yet since he needed a loan, she lived under the impression he will pay her back.

And to keep Dante debt free, in her case, she wouldn't allow him to borrow any cash from her. He should consider it a favor so his deficit wouldn't increase again with her. Nero stayed there now. Build up a tab with him and quit barking down her neck about it. With that resolution, Lady continued on with her bath, ideas popping up as to where she desired to spend her Benjamins.

Fortune slipped through his fingers.

As quick as he received his payment, it escaped him. The money he put aside to give to Lady remained his own to have. My, how the tables turned. It's his own fault setting the money down on the desk after he unloaded everything, however he didn't believe either of the girls would stop by so early in the morning.

Yes, he found spare dollar bills around the mansion but the total didn't equal his contract. Asking for Nero's half didn't sit right with him; the runt deserved his share despite him whining like a little child throughout the day.

When he returned from his turnaround trip and realized his cash went missing, he threw a small hissy fit―okay a temper tantrum. The first thing to go; his beloved desk, punting the wood with such force it hit the wall and shattered into different sizes. Cursing up a storm filled his mouth, punching through walls and doors to vent out his anger.

"What the fuck did she do that for!" Teeth clenched in rage with those words on repeat, wooden splinters embedding themselves in his knuckles after he kept throwing wild punches. A lost cause to get it back from her, she evinced the word 'she-devil.'

Nostrils inhaled an abundance of air to breathe because he clamped his jaws shut, preventing any of the vital substance from entering his lungs through that route. He needed to calm down, knowing he'll do more harm than good. What will destroying his home be if he had to replace the things he obliterated? He already decimated his oak desk, and that furniture cost a penny to have.

Eyelids closed over pale blue orbs, forcing himself to cool down unless he desired to spend what finances he didn't have on renovations. Glove-covered fists clenched and unclenched, nails digging into his palm to ease his pressing nerves. The sanguine liquid pooled a little in his mouth, teeth hard-pressed into each other to prevent his tongue from lashing out.

He set his heart on taking his vehicular babe to the shop, a guaranteed settlement he agreed upon with the mechanic to give the muscle car a full check-up for $1400. A quarter of the total he paid beforehand, and he wanted to drop the rest of the money and the vehicle off to him. How is he going to accomplish that with $600 (he threw in another $100 to stall Lady)? Now he had to scrimp and scrape up extra change just to get his ride fixed.

A vintage beauty of automotive like that probably costs $600 a piece for maintenance and upkeep, and that bargain price is a deal to hold on to. He should call her again, or at least go over to her place of residence and take something worth his amount back. No matter how much money he owed her, she had no right to grab the whole stack. Just thinking about it made him want to cry.

“Why is it me?” Dante groaned, face carved in sorrow, agitation pummeling his insides. Money sustained something he gained in abundance, yet lost the shit twice as quickly. He helped out his co-workers a few times so they could be “women.”

With the first incident, they pawned shopping charges on him, garnering bitter chuckles on his part. However, the more they pushed those expenses on him, the more agitated he grew―and the more they pursued the action, especially Lady. He wasn't her man, therefore he isn't obligated to splurge on her in that manner. And Trish... eh, passed as so-so in her spending capabilities. As far as he knew, he only had one body to look after, loosely; that sick little fledgling upstairs, who'd rather sleep out on the porch than admit to being taken care of.

His heart grew heavy; losing stolen property weighing down on the beating organ the longer he mused on his current dilemma. That cash should have stretched him a couple days after this, and now he'd have to compromise.

When he thought about it, some currency came out of the suitcase Nero couldn't pack in the car right, and there should be a set of bills in that other case too. Perhaps it wasn't in vain, allowing him to handle his errands as he saw fit.

And speaking thus, where did his green-skinned companion go anyway? He did a lot of shit following the brat's temporary stay in sand-man land, and he discovered some important things he needed to discuss. Perhaps talking to him might get his mind off of being wrongfully robbed?

The red hunter ran his fingers down his face, walking back into the living room to grimace at the sight; assessing the damage he would have to replace. He walked over to his chair, bending to pick up objects that once rested on the desk, taking them over to the couch he had in the corner.

His rear end followed suit, resting his elbows on each knee as his hands cradled each side of his cheek. A heated feeling ate at him, pining over the money earned on this job. And for what? A few bills owed to that she-demon and she had to take way over the amount?

"No, no think of something else," he chided himself. Dwelling on the negative personified to steer him towards negativity, especially since nothing could be gained after the debacle.

"No... it's some shit you borrowed on your trip. Just settle down before you look at them, that's all." He voiced his problems as a means to quiet his nerves, toes tapping on the floor rocking back and forth, muscles tight with irritation.

Hardened periwinkles shifted to the spare bedroom upstairs, wondering if the youth had awakened or still dived under the effects of his sickness. As much as the kid convinced himself of eating a heart burger, Dante found evidence that proved otherwise, hopefully.

9 hours earlier...

After he nestled the unconscious brat in the seat, he ignited the engine and ventured over to the small gas station, getting out and locking Nero inside the truck in case anything jumped in to get him.

"Hello," Dante called out, entering the mini-mart, glancing about the business with focused senses. Deathly silence filled the store, the luminescent lights internally buzzing on its last leg of life. A cigarette lay in the ashtray with the vapors floating away, walking towards the counter. "I'm pretty sure smoking here is prohibited," the elder complained, regarding the cancer stick to recognize if any feminine colors left lip prints.

Alert eyes strayed to the assorted novelties behind the stand, looking at the switches to the gas pumps so readily available at his touch. "Hello," he called out again, voice shouting out the greeting before his thoughts led astray to getting free gasoline. Though he decided against it, might screw up and ignite the gas station.

He rotated through the store, gazing over various edibles and drinks. From the looks of it, no one had been in here for some time, besides Edward and his family.

Imagine if someone came in here and took all this stuff to their content. No legit forces could stop him, no cashier to ring the red buzzer under the counter at the market being robbed. Like his compulsive urges tempted him to take anything he wanted...

No, no, no. He wouldn't succumb to temptation. Financial corporations spent their hard-earned money providing their customers with these goodies. It isn't fair to steal profit away from them, which would be wrong.

Dante strolled down the first aisle, scanning the variety of cookies, chips, crackers, canned foods and cereal boxes; products of big companies that made them. Then again, the company didn't necessarily make these items, more like the laborers and farmers who did the work, probably underselling the ingredients to these greedy businesses and getting the short end of the stick.

Maybe he would take a pack of gum.

He reached the end of the aisle; various bottled drinks running around the store behind enclosed glass. His parched throat called to them, especially the ones that had strawberry flavoring in them. Oh, how he wished to take just one to quench his becoming thirst, but the temptation he would not fall for; he would prevail.

Dante walked on to the back, gazing longingly at the tempting liquors, wishing his resolve would crumble and loot what he damn well pleased. He got all he could from the mansion, no telling how long those items might last though, but he didn't think of it as stealing. The toys he acquired weren't in use much, so why let them collect dust? Plus, he can't risk humans crossing the goods. They didn't need to go scrambling about with powers not belonging to them anyway.

"Marco," his voice echoed, intending on trying another approach to get a response out of someone. "Anybody here? Kinda gettin' boring just talkin' to my—hellooo what's this?"

Oak-hued stains of varying lengths met his eyesight, a sticky substance drawing a trail around the lane. He withdrew Ivory, taking light steps before veering out the aisle. He glanced up at the circular mirror in the corner, looking in it to see if anything suspicious resonated from his vantage point.

"All this stuff is up for grabs, it makes no damn sense to be this way." He continued on with his investigation, coming upon a dried puddle of beer, broken bottles littering the space of where the alcohol section lay.

Facial muscles settled into neutrality, eyes soaking up the disturbing scene before him. Something cracked within his being, mind drifting somewhere a little dark and dreary to block out what lied to his front.

For three minutes he talked about almost everything and said nothing, thoughts going after him with new questions; probing, circling, suggesting, letting silences stretch out, then switching to a different tact all together.

Ten minutes later, Dante found himself with a truck load full of groceries, placing the items in the pickup's trunk in case the added weight unhitched the Camaro; comprising of various beers and liquors.

He told himself he wouldn't take anything from here, probably just a pack of gum. Except a five minute interval occurred where he felt disoriented, almost as if he flew into a rage and completely blacked out afterwards, not remembering what he did or destroyed. Only when he looked back into the store, viewing it stand as healthy as before, he knew the thought held no merit. But what made him grab all that junk?

He wanted to say he did it for Nero, seeing how he delighted in eating everything under the sun, yet he didn't believe his intuition. Regardless of the excuse of why, he at least had a week's worth of beer. On a good day, he could ingest about four cans, downing the stuff like water. Obviously someone didn't care for the precious liquid since its handling presented a careless slacker, and he took it upon himself to save its dignity.

Hmm, maybe that's why he went on a "shopping" spree.

6 hours earlier...

Before he unloaded everything back at the office, he swooped over to Nero's side to transfer him to his bed. The teen slept like the dead; it would be a complete exhaust of energy to wake him. In doing so, one of the jars shattered onto the floor, the vapors from the amber juice rising up to the red one's nostrils. He prepared to identify the scent when a sparkling shine caught his eye.

Curiosity perked, he threw the youth fireman's carry style, bending to pick the heart up, stopping his hand right above it. The sight engrossed him, the muscle pumping regularly with a black gem inside the center. Careful fingers picked up the vascular orifice and sniffed its odorless smell; dark fluid oozing out of the valves when he touched it.

Saturated liquid spilled on the asphalt floor, Dante tempted to scoop up what he could but thought against it. He had an extra jar to study or glance at later. It concerned him a little, that the ticker pumped stuff out when a body didn't surround the object. Is the solvent keeping the heart alive? If so, then how long would the organ keep thriving until it stopped?

Mentally sighing, Dante picked it up, grimacing over its firmly gelatinous texture. He moved forward with Nero in tow, unlocking and opening the front door to lay the placid teen on the nearby couch.

He walked into the kitchen, searching through the almost bare cabinets to find something to set the muscle in. His search turned up empty, realizing he had no dishes to put the heart on. He refused to place that gross shit in the few bowls he kept, knowing he'll lose his appetite upon remembering. Both hunters had a knack for eating the food straight out of the packaging anyway.

The next conquest focused on his refrigerator, rummaging through the old storage compartment to see if he had luck there. However, nothing stood big enough to hold the heart, save for a jar of pickles.

He grabbed the green jug, taking the lid off to empty the juice in the sink. His nose twitched, nostrils exhaling out the prickly scent to keep his nasal cavity from tingling. Dante emptied the pickles, eating one after he dumped the batch into the trash can. Time passed swiftly since he ate this early afternoon, the tangy flavor wasn't something beneficial to his taste buds. He ran the water in the tart-smelling holder, swishing the jar out three times before he stuffed the organ in there and replaced the top. He wondered if any changes should come out of its liquid element.

5 hours earlier...

The next hour belonged to unloading everything, by himself, and placing the items into their new residence; parking the rental into the stall. His old fridge turned over on its back, placed in the garage and the modern one took its place. The food and drinks set inside according to their designated temperatures. Dante looked at each item with a slight sneer on his face, knowing these consumables stood no chance of acknowledgment before his beloved pizza.

Next object to go in the car port inhered the ATV. The little runt can ride to his local destinations without pegging him to be his taxi. Not that he minded it though, but gas was high as a bitch these days.

The motorcycle he 'permanently' borrowed rested outside, intending on waking her up and riding her all the way to Whetstone. Something told him he should take the truck in case he ran into more goodies to bring with him. The cases stayed in the pickup, wanting to look at them with Nero once he awoke from his slumber.

He pulled out his wad of cash, sitting on the edge of his desk counting the bills. Money rolled in steady now that Nero helped him out. The youth seemed to save his funds, Dante assumed to pay him back, so he never really ran out of it.

By some means, his paycheck escaped him faster than it could stay in his hands. He knew the reason though. That stubborn brunette always sucked him dry when he depended on his payment from a job, or when he barely had any to scrape off of.

Hmm, perhaps he should throw in an extra $100 just to keep her off of him. Bad enough he paid off his debt to her, but she still asked him for money. Yeah, this amount should be adequate to quiet her, especially since the jobs have been coming in.

He moved around the office, picking things up and placing things down in preparation to return to Whetstone. His being wanted to steal a few hours of shut-eye, but time was crucial and he could not partake in that luxury.

His head felt a little... tingly after what happened earlier, and he still didn't function at 100% yet. As such, in the scuffle of him organizing himself, or trying to, he accidentally placed the bills he planned to give to Lady in his back pocket, and set his money on the table.

His mind pondered which weapons to bring as he trotted up to the youth's room to get the bed ready for him, taking a moment to take in the neatness of it. Nostrils snorted out the strong scent of fresh mint, cracking the window open slightly to let some of the smell out.

He admitted he scoffed at the idea of cleaning. After all, what use would it be to disinfect when it threatened to collect dirt again? Being repetitive in that department didn't sit too well with him. In spite of that, Nero deduced the reason the hybrid never cleaned up had to do with the word 'lazy.' And so, the tidying fell solely on the brat.

Originally this room rested as his storage space; items, books and weaponry he collected over the years rested away until needed. When the teen first visited, Dante directed him to the warehouse upstairs, failing to remember it held his collectibles and... he didn't feel like moving all that shit to a different location.

In all honesty, he expected no one to stop by, and he had no vacancy. Trish occupied the room downstairs and even she stayed gone most of the time. Nero didn't flat out ask him to stay there (except his face and body language did) and Dante didn't really look for the added guests. The aspect of Trish coming back to find her spot taken he pondered little about, and his bedroom didn't enter the equation. But then he got to thinking...

Calls bustled in on overdrive and he just knew he missed a few while out. The girls had their own agendas to deal with, and they didn't seem too keen about staying there and delivering messages to him. Maybe he can see, for a few days, if the punk could act as his secretary.

Who knows, the kid might take on a few missions while he lazed about. The majority of his livelihood lingered in the company with females: eye-rolling, head snapping, narrow-eyed, hormone changing, headache-inducing, snatch-bleeding women. Perchance having another male around would ease his mind when those two showed up and started one of those female actions to pluck his nerves raw.

As time went by, he likened the brat being there.

Bantering became something of a hobby that blossomed within the first week, and their friendship grew with their sparring egos. Yeah, having the kid around kept his agitation at bay, having someone to match that aggression with purposeful intention or not.

Chuckling to himself at the playful memories shared between the two, Dante made his way back downstairs, lifting the unconscious youth bridal style to his room. Despite the chilly night air, Nero sported a high temperature feeling past his clothed person. Whether the illness faulted with his choice of food or the punk (Dante's fault, mostly) forcing everything out of his stomach, some good rest should have him right again. However, he noticed how quickly they drew in fatigue more than usual.

He could take on a day like this and do it three times over before the burnout exhausted his energy. And he bet money those engraved shards took the blame; must've had some debilitating poison inside them. Plus that heart thing... well, he would wing it and say it's poisoned too.

While Dante sampled the water a few hours ago, he refused to do the same for the liquid the organ set in. It isn't worth the risk of him getting sick when all this stuff began to happen. He'll just let the runt sleep until he knocked the sickness off, and if he needed extra items to aid him in his road to recovery, he'd have to eat soup or take a few Tylenol.

The elder lacked experience in taking care of the sick, helping out with deep cuts or injuries though, yes. His superb genetics kept human ailments away, only catching sniffles or sneezes when out in cold, wet weather after long durations. Usually when those little buggers bothered him, he warmed himself up with a nice hot box of chicken, pepperoni, and sausage pizza. The twerp, on the other hand, might take longer to get right again; most likely with the aid of medicine. He would be fine; nothing to worry about, nothing at all.

"Hey kid, not sure if you're gonna die or not, but if you can hear me, mumble or something."

The kid's silent acknowledgment left him to just shrug the whole thing off, finishing carrying him to his bed. If the poison somehow got to him, his demonic essence should filter it with no trouble. He honestly didn't know what else to do if things had worsened. He set Nero down, drawing back to look at him in his entirety.

Nero looked like shit.

Tired, exhausted, sweaty, beat-up, run-down shit.

Dante's hand reached out to sweep Nero's bangs to the side, looking at the bluish-green bruise kissing the middle of his forehead. Black semi-circles housed under his eyes, wrinkles set underneath to measure his level of weakness. Beads of sweat formed under his hair line; the droplets used to cool down his high temperature. His chest rose and fell at a slightly faster rate, mouth a little open to allow the flow of air to continue at its pace. Dante looked further down his form, noticing another darker color under the tear in his navy blue t-shirt.

Opening the slit further with two fingers, he saw a long, deep pink scar scaling down the length of his chest. Around the wound, as if cuddling it, lied a stringy, purple blemish emphasizing the mark.

"Sorry 'bout that kiddo." A lone finger ran down the imprint, feeling how the tissue scarred over. That shouldn't even be there. Bruises and welts they got from time to time, though they gradually disappeared. Their injuries shouldn't be scarring over like that. He had a couple plastered on his torso and back, but those stayed that way because his opponents cheated, adding magical elements to their weapons and battle techniques. If he could do the same with his gear, then they would fall...

Oh... Ah, is that what happened to the punk?

Rebellion had some witchy magic in her and the stab to his chest left that mark? Well then, the responsibility fell on him... sort of. He didn't have to ask Nero if he used Yamato to mend himself, thanks to that blue flash of light to hit the titty queen. Maybe he could absorb one of those healing gems above his scar and it would heal all the way?

He finished his scrutiny, walking over to his feet and gently pulling the boots off. Dirt and bloodied demonic splotches stained various parts on his jeans. Being the little neat freak he showed himself to be, perhaps he'd wake up complaining about how dirty his sheets were. Hmm, what if he took off his pants to spare him from whining? Dante imagined it would make for a chuckle here or there, but Nero might think he tried to molest him or some shit like that.

Actions like those he rose above; all that nonsense he wouldn't stoop to. Unless he had his sexual deviant's full consent, then... it would be in their interest not to tempt him.

Laughing to himself if he were to actually "pants" Nero, he moved onto his thigh holster, knowing the contraption wasn't comfortable to sleep in. Yet the more he stared at it, the more difficult the leather seemed to undo. Alas, it appeared like he contended to take advantage of the youth, but he made an effort to make him as relaxed as possible, scouts honor.

He went out of his way to ease his discomfort because courtesy of such magnitude from him doesn't happen often. Now encountered a bad time to slack off from poor dietary consumption. He needed everyone on board to combat this large threat, and he wanted no one sick going into it.

He should prank the kid.

Just one good prank and then he'd be okay. Nero still had his beat down coming and his sickness won't excuse him. Those young hormones were a lethal force, bursting out of their confinement when least expected, and devastating those close to it. Only they tried to devastate him. If he took combat to this threat as his instincts told him to, the situation would have turned out much worse.

Nevertheless, he should put a toy snake on his pillow.

A thick, green comforter pulled over a shivering form, the owner's body subconsciously burrowing deeper into the warmth; the sound of heavy, even sleep taking effect within seconds. Dante stood over him, looking at how peaceful and at ease he appeared. He couldn't quite explain it; like a sense of belonging that made Nero so comfortable being there. Whenever the twerp and him harbored hostility, the kid always said he'd return to Fortuna.

Except Dante wondered who he wrangled to convince. To be honest, it might feel empty if the youth left... and didn't come back to stay. Definitely would miss out on some cash rolling in, but it was more than that.

Something deep inflated between them, and it'll be weird if that sensation vanished. Friendship. Yes, that's it. Their bond had grown stronger since Nero's visit, and the bonding would be a factor he may miss should he leave. The girls stuck around, though he had more in common with the youngster. Man-handling the women were off-limits, and the teen sparred with him anytime. Hmph, he should try keeping those near and dear by him; it grew tiring to have that hollow, empty feeling every time someone left him.

The veteran took another look at his form, vision resting upon the bruise on his forehead. He already knew the kid will have surreal, fucked-up dreams. Always seemed to happen when they suffered from head trauma. After all that, once the teen awakened from the delusional dysfunction of his slumber, he would be right as rain again, hopefully.

With a slight ruffling of the kid's hair he left him to his sleep, knowing he would need all the rest he could retain to regain his composure; using all of it when the main enemy came into the spotlight. Though, if this Ramona chick acted alone, then Nero can watch from the sidelines.

His next course of action called to figure out which weapons to use to interrogate his foes, and which hardwares to kill them with. It's been a while since he needed extra arsenal because his skills with Rebellion and his pistols were enough. The majority of his devil arms slept in the attic, although some stayed behind his desk, in his room, and in Nero's.

He hopped over the stairs and landed on the floor to go into the garage, flicking on the light switch to find the large trunk where he stashed his old gears. Before he checked that out, he went to the truck and opened one case, finding those quirky, tofana scissors he wanted to try again.

Sparkling periwinkles stayed glued to the boxes' contents, taking in the various swords and firearms they collected. Or more specifically, the spare bills his eyes rested on; the twenty dollar bills his gaze laid on. He shoved the money into his back pocket, thinking his total escalated to $2520 when the amount lowered to much less. He finished his search by retrieving Rebellion, leaving Nero's tools inside until he woke up to get them.

He lifted a large chest, the purple-black Doppelganger's malevolent sphere lying on top of his other collectibles. Ah, those were some memories to relive. Enemies had wracked their brains in trying to figure out how there were two identical hunters attacking them at the same time. He had a feeling he might exercise the devil's spirit sooner rather than later, so those visual thoughts could be seen and saved up again.

Strong hands searched through the demonic pickings, deciding to pull Agni and Rudra out and give them a spin for old times' sake. The red and blue serrated-styled swords gave out a joyful "Yea!" before Dante drew back, clanking the heads together, throwing in a stern look. He looked at each of them, taking in their repressed smiles before he absorbed them into his body. He closed the crate with the flick of his wrist, heading upstairs to his bedroom to retrieve Pandora.

Without a doubt that thing possessed a magnitude of raw power, never trusting it for shit. The suitcase radiated in pure demonic energy, possessing enough potency to kill a room full of demons when he opened the case. He wouldn't place his confidence to anyone with it either so it remained in the safety of his closet, only to be used when allowed.

On his way out, he averted his luxurious bed beckoning him to come hither. Dante barely spent time in here in the last few weeks, and he believed it'll continue to be that way until all this hoopla died down. In seriousness, he readied to dive into his bed even if he took one glance in its direction.

Satisfied he didn't find himself embraced in his warm covers, he rushed his way over to Nero's room once more, opening the door to hear the silently loud sound of someone sleeping good. Should have been him in that spot right about now, but it would be all the more rewarding when his turn came. Might be nice if the brat could tag along to Whetstone with him but circumstances presenting, he would be the lone warrior this go around; even though the blame pointed at Nero to begin with.

He should be sitting at his desk with a frosty beer and a hot pizza, looking over the items he gained, yet the runt made them travel the longest route possible to get home and they weren't finished with the mission. Which settled the reason he headed towards the new fridge, stopping to take in the metallic beauty before diving inside, grabbing three beers to bring on his excursion to cleansing the small town.

"Rest up all you can, you punk ass. 'Cause when I come back, I'm dragging your sick ass out of bed to finish whatever trash you failed to clean up." Upon the final words leaving his lips, he went out the garage door, mind focused on setting Whetstone straight from her tragic environment.

At the Moment

Large hands raked down a solemn face to cover over a mouth and nose, eyes trailing to the spot where the cash should be. When he saw the total missing from the table , he figured Lady stopped by and picked up her tab. Only when he dove into his pocket and pulled out the change did he realize his grave mistake.

If he added his funds right, he had exactly $720 to his name. Add that to the quarter amount paid to the mechanic and he would have his car fixed... with twenty dollars left do whatever he wished with it, or tried to; if he had some spare bills to get in the truck.

His trip back to the small town proved as one enlightening yet bloody escapade, wishing to vent his current frustrations out through his mouth rather than his fists. He couldn't wait to tell Nero about it.

A/N: Dante paid the mechanic $350 in advance and the $600 that was his already had shot up to $720 when he found an extra $120 in the case (600+120=720). Add that to the $350 and that comes out to $1,070. The total auto check-up costs $1,400 and the advance in payment made it go down to $1,050. When all was said and done, Dante came out the victor (loser) with $20.00 he could play with ($1070-$1050). And if that wracks your brain...blame Lady, lol. Yet I did tell ya'll he was going to lose some of that stuff didn't I? (Laughs evilly.)

Well, at least Nero is getting all nice and pampered. Wasn't that nice of Dante to do before he knew he was robbed?

The time frame (9, 6, 5) was basically Dante remembering what he did after he put Nero in the car up until he had to go on the turnaround trip. When he got back, he found out his mistake, called Lady, she blew him off, and now he's moping. I wanted to chop it up like that because I wanted to explain some of the stuff that went on in each little section. Otherwise you guys probably would have been asking me "Wait, how did he get that?" or "When did that happen?" I hope the ordering didn't confuse any of you too much!

I feel like I'm just getting started with the story since there's still so much to tell. Til' Next Time
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These