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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
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter 25: Mood Swings Part 1
The youth pulled up to a dull, beige-colored building, parking besides the steps. He didn't recall Trish telling him how to turn it off, but his left foot pressed the lever down into neutral, letting go of the gas and holding the front brake. The bike idled down from its rumbling engine, cutting off to leave him in the silent night.
He pocketed the key and switched off the lights, taking in the surroundings and how quiet the place seemed―for a police station. Shouldn't there be people coming out in days old clothes from their arrests? Shouldn't there be citizens walking inside in handcuffs? Weren't patrol cars supposed to be outside with overweight cops eating donuts? If anything it looked like a ghost town, reminiscent to that area where he ate that questionable burger.
On his way over here a few cars passed him by, some even slowed down to stare in disbelief at his choice of transportation.
The voyage on the speeding contraption thrilled him. The harsh breeze whipping across his face stung at first but he didn't care. He enjoyed himself too much on this exhilarating object to concern himself of a moot point.
As the bike roared and picked up speed, pressing the correct switches and levers, Nero began to savor... freedom. Like he hadn't a caution or worry in the world, and this ride he took on his own accord; to just enjoy an evening seeing the sights of the town. Only when he neared his destination did the reality of the situation crash down on him, like a cold wind accompanying already freezing temperatures; it made him wish he wasn't out here.
This part of the district would probably be the end of the metropolis city; the area in which one could tell it wasn't nurtured by taxes to improve its looks.
On the opposite side of the station lied a large park, visible by a few sparse streetlights high-lighting a tennis court several yards away. From what he saw, varied pieces of white objects littered the grass, showing that nobody cared about keeping the place clean or delinquents lacked in crimes committed to repay debts.
Multiple mom and pop stores surrounded the section, all of them closed at the moment, leaving the teen without a single soul to look at. And anyone with a soul ought not to be out here during this time of night.
Speaking of lost souls, where in the world is the veteran? He derived that the man would at least meet him outside the place. Going inside didn't seem like a good idea, mainly with the weapons he carried.
Alert eyes surveyed his surroundings seeing no police cars in sight, so were they out on duty? Or perchance a few remained in there with the chieftain and he currently discussed the problems occurring.
Nero grabbed his equipment and the bag in slight disgust, carrying it on his left side climbing up the dark gray steps, opening the brown doors... to near darkness. He stopped in his tracks, looking into the nigh pitch-black room with cautious grace. As he walked further inside he noted a window to his right, covered in plexiglass with a speaker-like device used to communicate between the teller and the question-asker.
A fluorescent light flickered on and off in the enclosed space, papers strewn about as if someone gathered the sheets in a pile then chucked them in the air. Far away from the threshold he saw a row of green chairs resting adjacent to the wall, old magazines sitting on two of the seats and a clip board on top of another. Burgundy carpet held scattered debris, reminding him of plaster that fell from the ceiling. Dare he look up and confirm the sensation roiling in his gut that an enemy waited there, or should he find Dante and leave when able to?
Deciding on the latter he went through the double doorway, acquainting his sight with another batch of shaded light. The only brightness greeting him came from the windows, allowing shadows to create crooked, cracked lines on the wall. It appeared he walked into a larger room with desks, counters and chairs taking up the room's expanse. To the side of him was a door and one more lied directly ahead.
He stilled his movements, listening for any detected sounds. The wind picked up in velocity outside, the resonating air slapping across trees created delicate, dying whispers as it touched the windows. He started on trying the entryway to the left, the whispering winds might have been mistaken for an actual voice.
A soft thump stopped his feet from advancing to look at the opposite door, his hand switching the bag to his devil bringer in case Blue Rose had to come out. But what did he have to worry about (besides everything)?
By the fourth window branches with thick leaves rubbed along the pane, possibly creating that noise; alarming him with false motives to investigate. Nero proceeded with the door on the left when the same clatter passed by his hearing again, only louder.
"My mind's playing tricks on me," Nero envisioned back to his recent dream in bitter remembrance, reliving all the strange noises he imagined he heard, only to find that, even in the throes of slumber, that demon lurked beyond his reach. To say this was a case of déjà vu felt like an understatement; the difference being he was wide awake at the moment.
The shadowy atmosphere made it harder to see monsters slithering in the veiled light, yet his devil bringer will tell him of anything he approached; a malfunction wouldn't commence as it loves to do in his sleep. Thinking to the room prior to this made him wonder if a Fault settled on the ceiling akin to his snooze. Might be the reason the plaster is on the floor, but his demonic arm signaled no alerts.
Carefully he headed straight, noggin rotating between the work area and outside, senses on aware in the event of an attack. He always assumed that police stations stayed open 24/7, people of the law working different shifts to respond to the demands of criminal activities. Apparently the 'protect and serve' motto applied to the city before nine at night.
His scaly arm lightly pulsed advancing to the door, dying off to a subtle hum when his hand enclosed around the knob. The only time it pulsated on a low vibration was when Dante neared him. Okay then, the elder must be behind this door―waiting to play a trick on him in his old fashion of ways?
"Yeah right, you wish."
He turned the handle until it unlatched from its padding, kicking it open as a gush of metallic-smelling zest assaulted his nostrils. Recovering from the sudden action he saw a long hallway stretched before him, another flickering fluorescent cracking in and out of life.
Jerky fingers brought forth his double revolver, liquid electric shots of adrenaline coursing through his body at the scene on the floor. Smeared and splattered blood coated two torn bodies of law enforcement employees. The decaying stench grew into its beginning stages, the sickly sweet smell increasing in volume the nearer he walked towards the dead.
A bloody finger print plastered itself on the beige wall, several of them leading to the end of the hall. Both male officers lied face down, pools of crimson surrounding their torsos with weapons missing from their arsenal. Whatever ripped these people apart didn't give them a chance to retaliate.
"What the hell happened here?" His words were barely above a whisper, a tingling sensation churning in his stomach because this 'convert' situation took a turn towards the worse. "Why didn't you say something over the phone, old man?"
Further down the corridor streaked a path of blood around the corner to the right, making him think the culprit dragged his opponents to this spot to off them. Nero half-jogged to the edge of the wall, taking a sharp look at the trail to see it disappear beneath a door at the end. He inhaled a deep breath to calm his nerves, threatening to let the fear settle in the pit of his belly and expand.
It wasn't his loneliness that bothered him, it was the enemy that didn't seem to have a particular care in what it did to its foes. His solitary triasping through Fortuna Castle didn't give him much caution since he's been there plenty of times, but in this place with an unknown foe left him a bit uneasy.
He shifted off the wall to travel in the route of the sanguine substance, one foot stepping in front of the other to listen for any noises. This hallway held no lights, enveloping him in darkness the further he traveled. At the exact time his scaly appendage pulsed he heard a muffled voice in the back of a green doorway, the same door the streaking apple-hued liquid came from. His hand reached for the knob, intending on using the same tactic from earlier. The devil bringer brightened, illuminating beneath the surface of his arm brace.
His body whirled around, believing he recognized footsteps behind him, immediately aiming Blue Rose in that direction. The only rattle ticking in his ear resounded the fluorescence flickering on and off. However, at the opposite end of the corridor were two sets of stairs, one leading upstairs while the bottom led to the depths below.
Brown boots softly stepped forward, noticing how the strength of his arm's signal lost its power, dimming under the arm brace. Like he told himself earlier, the wind created unique noises to doubt what he actually heard. Might certify his reasoning if windows inhabited this walkway, nevertheless.
Deciding to go with the sensation in his limb he retreated two steps, eyes surveying the path for any suspicious deed when he turned around to face the green door... and found another void of complete darkness where somebody opened the previously closed door. It stared back at him as if threatening to swallow him whole. A spike in energy ran through his body, a quelling of dread rising deep within his nature that some thing fancied playing mind games with him.
The mind games continued when two fingers tapped his shoulder, rotating to see what opponent, or lack of, preyed on him for the worse. His devil bringer remained on a constant hum, either signaling that Dante drew near or an enemy cautiously approached him. He pressed towards the right wall, head pivoting from the dark room to the foyer; inching further down the hall away from the opaque niche.
"Someone forgot to pay the light bill around here," he muttered aloud, using his own joke to keep a leveled head. The fiend obviously wanted to test him; to gauge what course of action he might proceed with prior to attacking. Yeah, that must've been the rationale of somebody tapping him; the freak needed to have him occupied before it struck.
Now that the youth kept his eyes open to the sides of him, the attacker had no choice but to confront him. Yet he... could not contain the notion that the crossbreed somehow played hide-and-seek.
He continued sliding down the hall, hearing a peculiar clatter catching his attention in the distance. Short breaths sounding like a drawn-out hiccup touched his ears, followed by a series of popping thuds, similar to cracking knuckles or toes. Squelching echoes of a wet nature removed his focus from watching the black entrance, intrigued and frightened to this new noise.
Did the hybrid kill something and it struggled to crawl? Did it harken on a ghoul coming to approach him soon or even the enigma that killed those two men?
His feet traveled of their own accord towards the racket, left arm itching to withdraw his blade, eager for a fight to ensue.
So focused on the unknown host he failed to register a hand crossing his mouth; the other slipping a finger under Blue Rose's trigger, preventing Nero from firing it off. The palm firmly grasped his chin, the remaining fingers covering over his mouth, his physique dragging backwards into the dark room.
Right before the door closed a giant shadow came into his view from the top step, abruptly blocked by the body leading him away. Muscles tightened to struggle next to his attacker, dragging his feet hard into the floor to stop his movements. Lips twitched on their own accord, indignant cries smothered by the obscured hand. His devil bringer drew inwards to strike his captor, sensing the grip on his jaw tighten.
In the lightless room he felt his frame whirl around as the entrance slammed behind him, his back leaning against a form thriving stronger than his own. Confusion settled on his features, torn between defending his person and letting someone, hopefully, save him; even though he didn't need it.
A familiarity rose to the surface, recognizing a certain aura, nostrils inhaling a thick coppery smell coated by a hint of strawberries. Like it―hey, wait a minute.
Nero ceased his struggling, wondering why it took so long for him to recognize that Dante dragged him out of the passageway; his damn arm told him he was around somewhere.
"Meh-"
"Keep quiet or I'm throwing you out." Dante's chilled tone whispered harshly in his ear, making him blink twice at how cold, or cautious, he gritted out his demand. Now affirmed that he met up with the veteran he could focus on more important matters; like getting the book away from him, removing Dante's hand from his mouth, and removing himself off of Dante.
Deciding to go with option number three first he shifted forward, the red one keeping his grip on him and the gun. When Nero added more strength to disconnect from him Dante tightened his clutch, pressing harder to hold his trap closed and bringing their hands, oddly wrapped around the revolver, to rest on the youth's chest.
Since he knew to silence himself he didn't need a reminder again, about ready to elbow him in the gut when the elder murmured another command, voice laced with becoming impatience.
"Stop fucking moving." Dante rasped the venomous words, the teen slightly shrinking in on himself.
"Okay, I get it!" Nero voiced the internal words in befuddlement, thinking the hybrid wanted to take his anger out on him from their earlier conversation. If so, then Dante didn't have the privilege to be mad at him for telling him his sentiments. He can certainly be angry at the situation, but not at him.
It's his problem to deal with because he should have analyzed his actions and consequences beforehand. Just like now, instead of planting a kiss on him the half-breed held his mouth closed with his fist. Why didn't he do that when those officers came?
Red Queen stopped Nero's backside from fully pressing into the dope's front, trying to lean his hips away so the placement could be less unpleasant. Last time he checked, clothes didn't feel that 'thin' or conveyed the sensation of not existing there. Maybe his mind ran with the chieftain's tank top being flimsy because of the material. It's not like Dante walked around here shirtless, right?
His devil powers brought forth his night vision with the blinds shadowing the moon's radiance. A grand, red oak wooden desk lay littered with papers strewn about, seeing a private office they stood in. Situated in front of the desk were two padded mahogany chairs sitting side by side, and a large brown leather chair sat behind the work space. To his immediate right rested a water cooler, halfway gone as little plastic cups spread out lazily on the gray carpet.
Plaques and awards glimmered on a matching wall unit, undeterred in its display to yield to anyone to see how hard this person worked in life. Achievements in bold frames adorned the white wall behind the desk, bragging rights further shown to eyes probably lacking in the 'accomplishments' department. Just shy of the furniture showed another door, presumably leading to an extra room or a bathroom beyond it.
That same hiccup-inhaling echo met his hearing again, as if the freak stood outside their door. Light scratching increased in volume, pondering where its enemies are or to find its way in here.
Dante started wrangling the gun from his grip, intentions becoming clearer to borrow his weapon to kill or defend in opposition to the trespassers.
As far as Nero discerned, the hybrid's weapons were missing in action. A comforting gesture, knowing the chieftain didn't mind his hardware for combat, but... he carried his own equipment along so he could fight. If the idiot didn't have or forgot his own instruments of destruction, then too bad. He brought his shit so he can go to work doing the stuff he's good at; to do so, he needed to utilize all his fundamental fixtures, not share them.
The hand originally holding his mouth closed wrapped over his waist, raising worry in his nature when his backside pressed into Dante and raised up off the floor. He almost tumbled out a protesting shout, but he snapped his jaw shut. Dante quickly rushed them through the other door in the office, Nero hoisted like a child ready to fall out of an adult's arm.
A light-less, pissed out bathroom they resided in, the red hunter twirling around to close the door, setting him on the ground, and detaching him from Blue Rose all at once.
The teenager took a moment to regain his bearings, gearing up to ask precisely what the hell went on when the elder snatched the bag from his hold, yanking the book out with disinterest, gripping the decomposed wrist.
"What are-"
"Be quiet." The hold on the decayed wrist cracked with noises from the pressure with which Dante applied, the singular ulna pushing out until the bone dropped to the floor. He took the ring off the thumb, seeing which one would fit on his finger until he placed it on his pinkie. He reached down and picked up the bone, setting it in the sink as the cursed book opened, the elder seemingly forgetting that another visitor accompanied him in the bathroom.
And he kind of wanted Dante to acknowledge his existence; it'll take his sights aside of the veteran's lack of attire. Correcting his eyesight to the dark again in the cramped rectangle, he saw the black tank top disappeared from his torso, revealing that muscular backside adorned with a few back scars. Lightly shredded, brown and red-stained gray sweatpants hung loose on sculpted hips, eyes trailing to the spine disappearing into the hem of the pants, curving out to a round posterior asking to be patted.
Immediately the picture shook out of his mind, dumping it into his mental trash can of useless junk. He guessed the hybrid went through a lot of physicalities and the cotton-made material didn't uphold its durability. Still, he didn't find spare clothes around here? And speaking more on clothes, where exactly are the men and women in uniform? They can't all be dead.
The stench of piss nearly singed his snout, worsened by the windowless room to air out the smell. Up above him lied a ventilation system, cracks in the ceiling giving way to old age or poor construction handling. The white tiled floor made sticky scratches under his boots, shifting from foot to foot to refrain the usage of his feet staying glued to the floor's surface.
Two switches sat next to the door, Nero flipping the left switch on to reveal a brightened cubicle, snapping his eyes shut to mend to the piercing brightness. When he opened his eyelids again, he found Dante's reflection glaring back at him in the mirror, appearing none too pleased with him… turning on the light?
What in the hell made him so moody? Not an hour ago he seemed chipper in talking to him and now he wore this cold, stern look with force. Did he take offense to being told off on the phone? Well, he did call him 'sweetheart' in a bitter-sounding temperament, but he conveyed it as a jesting tease. Unlikely the red one grew upset over the teen's discomfort with the kiss, but that frigid regard spoke of ill-will gestures―to what the youth didn't know.
"Play his game or be played," Trish's words rang through his conscious as a cautionary reminder, Nero nodding once internally to keep himself in check.
Dante returned to the book, face unreadable as the youngster looked on from behind.
"How-"
"Please shut up." His voice stood above a whisper, demanding his words take discretion to whom ever uttered them aloud: namely Nero.
The partial-hybrid's eyes narrowed at the request, not too fond of the attitude which Dante took with him.
"Why?" Nero asked in a regular tone, noticing the pause in his book reading, lips pressing to form a line.
The chief chuckled with dark mirth. "I'm not asking you again."
"Can you give me a reason to stay quiet?" He kept in mind whether he should continue asking questions oblivious to Dante's mood or keep quiet. "Obviously something's happened here, and whatever did is making your panties twist in a bunch―"
His back pressed towards the bathroom entry, Dante leaning his forearms on the door as he missed coming into contact with Nero's front. He tilted all his weight on his left hip, breathing in deeply before... smiling.
And it wasn't a happy smile or a joyous look that masked irritation. It reminded the youth of one of those freaky-looking clowns, concealing a hidden rage to consume those joyful stereotypes used to define them.
And the youngster resided disturbed by it.
Ceruleans shot downwards, doing a double take at the lack of shoes and socks missing from the veteran's feet. "I can only imagine how filthy those things are," he mused inwardly.
His peepers traveled upwards to his face, taking a small detour to fixate on the muscular pronounced V-shape connecting his chiseled torso, toned hips, and that... nether region many had the chance to sample.
To keep from staring at the rest of him he looked at the wall behind the chieftain, hands clenching and unclenching to rid of the nervousness ready to travel up to his cheeks. Through the corner of his eye he froze in unease, viewing Dante's face inching closer to his, that same creeped-out face staying rooted in his spot.
"Mission accomplished," he whispered, holding doubt if he should stay still or shove the elder away; his features widened in fear. Those iceberg blues captivated his own in a hypnotizing gaze, making him want to shake his bangs into his eyes to lose his focus beyond him.
"Play his game or be played." The helpful hint echoed in his mind again, soon vanishing into a tone much more masculine and distorted.
Play with him, play with him now.
Fucking chip tits.
At present, the conscious voice in his head braved the only 'friend' he could cling to after his inner nightmare awakened, surely focusing on some plan to make him look like a complete idiot.
"Nero, Nero, Nero, how you love to bite off more than you can chew."
The youth kept his lips sealed, trying to read Dante and his split personality.
"You see, if you fought those 'things' back home, you'd notice that... they're not a fan of fire, correct? I'm assuming you did, right?"
Nero nodded in silence, eyes slightly bugged out from how bothered Dante made him.
"Well, I had that same deduction, and I have a weapon with me that held the ability to burn shit, so I thought I was good to go." He waved his right hand around to emphasize his points. "But..." he fingered the hem of the white shirt he wore, pulling on it twice before placing his fingertips gently on his hips.
Nero, seeing the opening to depart, quickly rebelled the action, concerned he might get nipped or something stupid like that. "… fire originating from a magical perspective makes them repel the attack, but regular fire―that does them in, doesn't it lil' Nero?"
Either Dante lost his marbles and he was feeling the effects, or waiting here made him do so.
"Now, I'm all about challenges and whatnot, given if there's a large volume of enemies, but when the same assholes keep popping up with no clear tactic of killing them quick when it calls for it, I gets a little..."
"Crazed, demented, masochistic, violent, angry... weird?" Nero mouthed the words a mile a minute in his mind, anticipating on which word he would choose.
"… tired."
Huh?
"And when I'm tired, I tend to get a little snippy or I end up doing shit out of spite, or so I'm told."
Well... when he put it in those terms it made sense; right now, he existed as one disturbed individual.
"Add that to these converts wearing skins and running around posing as the police, and the original line-up is soon to be kidnapped or dead―"
"Okay." Nero said in a low voice, realizing the hybrid's annoyance wasn't directed towards him, again, but rather at the situation he uncovered more of. Whew, at least he dodged a second bullet; the focus of the hybrid's emotions can steer to a clearer resolve.
"―and this infinite Aventurine-gem shit conjuring up the alpha version of that big bitch of a leech―"
"Dante, all right." What did he mean by the 'alpha' version? That humanoid, leech-like thingamabob he destroyed at the office wasn't even the main version? Was this variant bigger or did it act as a leader to its subordinates? And this jewel he talked about; he recalled seeing the stone (in a pickle jar no less) back in the fridge.
"―making me run around here trying to keep them out of the main office―"
"I get it, enough already."
"―because the source to their livelihood is situated under the desk."
"Dammit, Dante!"
"And that's why... " Dante re-positioned his forearm against the wall, trapping the fledgling between his arms once more, “… I need to hurry and find the dandy little 'DIY' kit to get rid of it in silence.”
If he recoiled further into the door, he imagined he'll break off its hinges. The teen had a mind to push the veteran away from him; the bathroom was small and this enclosed area made him a bit territorial of his personal bubble.
Couldn't he have said what he wanted to say while reading the book?
And by reason of confusion, why in the hell did the elder read in the dark?
Determining enough time passed for a lackluster mission briefing, he started to nod in understanding when his eye drew to a particular spot on the right side of the chief's neck, a brown patch surrounding a blue oval-shaped bruise. The stain on his skin situated more towards the rear, making Nero tilt his noggin to see it more; the veteran redirecting cerulean orbs back into his ice-colored hues.
"While I fought those things one of them bit me, damn near ripped my head off my shoulders, like this..."
Nero's eyes widened, muscles too slow to move into a defensive stance to protect himself from Dante's apparent demonstration.
Razor sharp teeth punctured into the base of his throat, blood pooling down his front to blot his white t-shirt. His devil bringer flashed a bright turquoise; the right side of his body stunned into temporary, dazed agony. Human fingers twitched, attempting to come out of his shocked stupor to input some life into him; to knock some damn sense into Dante.
Some decrepit notion must've clogged his mental capabilities to do something that stupid. What benefit did this asshole think he called for from biting him, other than a nice blow to the balls?
A natural yelp tore through his lungs, soon hearing the entrance outside crash open, the supposed enemy belonging to the shadow appearing on the stairs breaking through. The brute bee-lined to the bathroom door, sniffing and rubbing along it to sense exactly where its prey stood. He guessed the opponent towered in the unnatural realm of heights, judging how the racket of its actions seemed to tower above them.
"Out of spite just about fits it," he gritted out. The scaly arm drew into a tight fist, driving forward to connect with that sturdy jaw line.
Dante's face whirled to one side, never removing his forearms off the wall or his stance away from the youth. His teeth didn't detach from beneath the piercing of his flesh either, dragging those sharp daggers across his skin until he let go.
Suffice to say the partial-demon could not explain the reasoning behind this act, thinking the situation's grim reality let the hybrid behave this way. Dante also said he barely outlasted a decapitation, so maybe his ruminate skills were all over the place; emotions helplessly twisting along in the mix.
For a moment, he anticipated that Dante would retaliate, but he stayed the position where he punched him. Jeez, he was bathing in a pile of weirdness right now.
"AAAANNGGGGGH," the high-pitched squeal reverberated through the entrance before it barged into it, nails and hinges pinging to the floor beside his feet. The second bump made the door open, forcing Nero's forehead to smash into the crook of the elder's neck. When Nero pulled away from the contact the door once again banged into his back, pushing him into Dante's mold.
His teeth gnashed; the malformed identity riling him up prior to him kicking its ass and the dope not even moving in distinction to blocking him. A final shove to the doorway and the youth flew into him again; the wooden rectangle removed from the frame, leaning into him, keeping him pressed into the half-human as the beast advanced.
Gray-taloned fingers wrapped around the side of the door, intending on moving it aside to reach its prey trapped inside the small arena. The enemy never saw what its meal looked like, a strong leg kicked the door away from him, sending it sprawling onto the floor in the office.
Pushing off the hybrid he turned to confront the savage, ready to engulf it in Red Queen's flames, deciding to direct his distress onto the monster. A body not of this world rose to stand, breathing and snorting as it stared down upon its foes. Nero's eyes trained on the predator, noticing the differences from his fights earlier at the office.
Once the humanoid stood up to its full eight feet of height, it unexpectedly lunged at him. The blue hunter gasped in surprise as he cartwheeled to safety, just shy of colliding with the desk. The beast swung at him, arm lengthening to have a better range to grab him.
The youth needed to keep a mind about his environment, realizing that running into the water cooler or bumping into the furniture can enable the grotesque mongrel to have him in its clutches.
The wind outside picked up in speed, pitching like a pack of wolves piercing the night with their howls. The peculiar pitch the monster heaved out disrupted the flow the breeze blew around the office, heightening the situation to a heavy resolve. Scarce light poured into the room from the distant corridor, shading the area in this eerie ambiance, making the partial-hybrid rely on his senses more to see it through.
Speaking thus on shadows, why did Dante stay out of sight again? Recalling his partner's disturbed mental state, he pondered the affairs leading him to act delusional. He stated he grew restless when he combated the same unrelenting enemy over and over again, but did he mean the 'sleepy' kind of tired or the 'demented' type?
And what drove him to think he'll shut up since the dope said to do so? Cornering him like a guilty suspect and coercing him to submit to his request probably wasn't going to silence him either.
The adversary threw another lunge, walking in this zig-zag motion, maintaining the difficulty to keep a proper aim on it. He jumped on top of the desk, withdrawing Red Queen to prepare to defeat the menace. It advanced to make a grab for his ankles, Nero scooting to the edge to avoid the swipe from its arm. Standing at this height gave him the urge to shoot the thing in its head, reaching out to his thigh holster to fire―
Dammit, Dante had his gun.
Back-flipping off the desk he focused on striking the humanoid hard and fast, miscalculating the rush of his assailant and the tight corner he set himself in. It bobbed and weaved towards him, the teenager shuffling from foot to foot in preparation to dodge when it attacked.
The creep did as he planned, the youth ducking between its legs to stand tall behind the creature. It swung its arm backwards, Nero copying the same action prior to propelling himself forwards, igniting the singular blade in a dance of fire, heavily piercing through the beast's flesh. Pieces of the brown chairs tore off in the sword's arc, torn shreds of skin fell to the floor.
"AAAANNGGG-EEEE," the fiend shrieked in agony, recoiling from the flames. The enemy pivoted its arms around, Nero dancing to the side to evade and counterattack when the opportunity opened.
Fighting in the darkness surrounded by cramped capacities gave him a determined intent to contend as he pleased; it energized him to explore new tactics he deemed worthy of excitement. His primary senses sharpened, allowing him to indulge himself to elaborately defeat his opponent.
No longer did he have to conquer a certain foe because he was told to, nor did he have to wait on anyone to co-partner with him. This method of combat suited him fine, he preferred this over partnering. Honestly, lazy ass probably blamed him for lolly-gagging on jobs when it was the elder who killed off time.
Nero retreated two steps, revving Red Queen's handle since the rival's weakness showed itself to be a severe detriment to its health. When the rev limiter couldn't spike up any more fuel onto the sword he released it, shooting forward with lightning agility to attack.
At the last moment he pivoted on the left foot, blade soon following in the same fluid movement. The first swipe connected at the giant's torso, engulfing the flesh in molten fire corroding the brute's stamina. Two more sharp hits struck with biting flames across its abdomen, the brute screeching and falling to the ground as it writhed in injury, arms flailing in distress, desperate to cling to life.
As the thrust of the swings disappeared, he awkwardly leaned on the wall unit, the drive's force pulling him to land uncomfortably next to the wooden object. The chairs were nothing more than burnt and scattered splinters.
The pitch of glass cracking stole his attention, eyes adjusting in the darkness to view iridescent silver hair poking from underneath the desk. More snapping met his ears, wanting to see what the device he fiddled with looked like. Did that creepy hand have something to do with it, or did Dante find whatever hexed item to rid of the beaker under the desk? Was it even glass to begin with?
Instead of blurting out the questions forming in his head he proceeded to kill his pestering opponent, intent on moving on its side to get up again. Nero kicked it to its back, the foe suddenly grabbing his left leg with its left arm, piercing its claws into his lower thigh. After his initial grunt of affliction the fiend pulled his limb down, right knee resting on the floor as blood seeped into his jeans. With little effort Nero shouldered the brace off, quickly tugging the cloth to unravel his devil bringer.
The humanoid swiped at the youth's head but he caught the appendage with his right arm, molars gritted and grinding as the acute discomfort burned in intensity. Nero passed the gangly limb to his human hand, gripping it by the thick wrist, as he positioned himself to pummel it into the afterlife.
Yet the dim light with which he could barely see permitted the beast's face to take on this haunting silhouette, calling to mind of a terrifying ghost one glances upon, standing idly behind them in the mirror. Those raven-colored spheres looked at him with unblinking conviction, cold shivers spiking up and down his back after an unnerving perception gripped him.
It almost seemed like he geared to murder a human.
He needed to remind himself that it wasn't though. In spite of having the foundation of a human body, forgetful of the abnormal height, it still had the characteristics of a demon; with the six-inch nails, enlarged eyes and razor sharp teeth. An ashen-gray skin tone, incoherent speech, and its voracious need to kill further belied its nature; humans didn't indulge in these modifications... at least not on the days he strolled through town.
Steeling his nerves from letting wet tracks roll down his cheeks from the clenching torment in his thigh he balled his blue fist, punching the humanoid in between the juncture of its mouth and eye; viewing the antagonist's angered brow ridge twitching as it never blinked from the assault.
Long legs shifted to withhold him, the mongrel gearing to flip Nero over to overpower its defiant meal. The young hunter connected a final punch to its face, clawed fingertips wrapping around the gem on its sternum and pulled. Hard.
In his palm rested the bane of his stomach's existence, throbbing strongly in his scaly branch, sitting undeterred from a torn-out rib cage. The heart lied smothered in dark liquid, now surrounded by this decayed odor threatening to scorch his sense of smell completely. Its owner flailed its arm in distress, blood gushing out of the torn hole.
The teen backed off and away from the screeching fiend, careful to lean his weight on his right leg. A shuddered breath filled the room before it lay motionless, the youth experiencing a sudden neutrality rise up towards the situation.
He stopped a monstrosity from leaving this area to terrorize people sure, yet the slight semblance of pity tugged briefly on his nerves. This entity he combated was a human once; a living, breathing, thinking human―who may or may not have been influenced to join this 'converting' fad.
Usually a triumphant aura washed over him after he crushed an enemy, but this 'limp' victory didn't give him that electric winning ambiance nor did it sullen his mood. Such a situation left him... neutral.
Focusing on the heart, he saw it went through a minor change. The jewel was attached to a thick vein about four inches long, connecting to the vascular organ to supply its donor. Almost a direct comparison to the gem acting as a plug and the heart as an outlet. Leaning on the desk he placed Red Queen between his legs, slanting on her handle as he held the bloody muscle in his hands.
Wet squelches stole his attention, the dead humanoid convulsing in a loose manner as it transferred to an original state―and then some. The height of the ogre diminished to somewhere under six feet, muscles decreasing out of their enlarged musculature to shrink to a figure of an anorexic man. His feet and hands retained the irregular large size, claws never lessening from their length. Those raven-opaque holes in its head didn't fill up with eyeballs, setting on staying as it did seconds ago.
"Ugh, buddy. Did you eat rotten eggs or something?" Whatever chemicals it released to transform into this state offended his olfactory senses to the highest level, reaching behind the blinds to throw the window open.
The young hunter mildly wondered what the differences embraced between the two versions. Those with the hook and Venus fly-trap hands disintegrated when fire engulfed them, however he didn't pull out the vital organ to see. Furthermore, why did this one seem like a stretched-out human, belly slightly protruding in the front of it? What did it contain in its DNA to look vaguely 'normal'? Did its features contribute to the magical gem that Dante said was here?
Probably might explain its different physical appearance and the aggressive stances it used in relation to what the chieftain explained about the other type. But as long as his blade oozed out gas to fry the sons of bitches, these things... didn't pose too much of a threat.
With the thigh injury closing he diverted his attention to the hybrid behind the desk, who, rather strangely, moved the leather chair and sat cross-legged on the floor. That purple book rested open on a particular page, sketches of an illustrated drawing of a wolf-like creature taking control of the halfling's focus.
One muscular elbow nested on his thigh as the hand connected to the elbow cradled his chin. The youth set the heart down on the desk, blinking twice and breathing in deeply because his vision strained to see properly; the light in the bathroom long since turned off to envelop the office in scarce illumination. He pushed to―why is this moron reading in the dark?
"What are you-"
"Shut it."
Half of Nero's body took warning while his other side stood in defiance, battling with probing questions as to Dante's irksome behavior. And even more puzzling came the brute's blatant ignorance to the other party in the same room; why did it only attack him?
Slowly the youth arose from his seat, lightly limping on his left leg, placing the red sword on his back. He took slow, deliberate steps until he stopped directly to Dante's side, crossing his arms in expectance for Dante to stop his reading and look at him. When his presence went unnoticed he decided to lean over him, eyes looking at the illustration in depth.
Upon further inspection he saw it wasn't a picture of a wolf, but an assembly of wolves made out of... wind. Or at least that's what it suggested, if the squiggly-drawn cloud ending their forms gave insight.
In front of the group stood a single hound carrying a little necklace around its neck, maybe it ventured as a fancy collar? Above the pack lied a large green boulder, blocking a circle, the blue hunter presumed as the moon, situated behind it. By the canines' stances and the half-surrounding formation, they seemed to either protect the green rock, or the relic existed as their theology.
"What is that ab-"
"Shut up."
Nero didn't like that answer.
"Why should I?" He challenged the man by lightly shoving his shoulder to get a reaction out of him. When his results proved stationary, his eyebrows furrowed in doubt.
The memory of a bitten neck almost made him walk away, deciding to increase his distance if he decided to chew on him again. However, in that moment, Trish's advice came back as a reminder to be on guard with Dante's ever changing personality. That subject seemed likely though; since he got off the phone he's been acting weird, as if he was angry with him. Yet Dante let his façade slip a little when he told the youth about the events at the station than his problem with his earlier words.
Oh, that sly bastard.
"Oh Dante, you think you're so clever," the teen whispered, a small smirk gracing his features; he figured out Dante's game.
At this, the veteran turned with his face, hand now cradling his side profile to look up at his obnoxious fledgling. He needed to find the right incantation to allow the demonic spirits to finish the job.

"I figured you were just... I knew it. What I said back at the office left you tongue-tied, and now you can't own up to your words-"

"Your boyfriend's about to snack on you." He rolled his eyes with a dismissive blink, returning to the book.
“... What?”
A strong grip yanked his injured leg, surprising him as he tumbled to the ground. A robust force crawled over him, nails pinning him down with abnormal groans pouring out from his mouth; the sickly sweet smell of decay invading his senses. The youth's vision swirled, vaguely catching a silver spectacle to his right; resting on top of nearly white skin sitting cross-legged on the floor, oblivious to the commotion.
Baby blue irises enlarged when he recognized the shrunken carcass advancing upon him, jaws widening with attempted snaps at his flesh. On its way to chomp on his face it stopped, sensing another source of access for food: his thigh injury. Nero wrestled and wrangled the creature away from the bloody gash, concentrating his foot against his skull to send the bastard flying.
The malnourished goblin lied still after the kick stunned it, grasp never leaving from the hunter, crawling to make an effort to bite it off. The little dipshit was tough, unable to remain dazed. And the youngster possessed power behind his kicks. Nero made a grab for his revolver when he grasped the unfamiliar space of where she should have been.
He felt the pushing pinch of claws tearing into the fabric of his jeans, his devil bringer now coming into play to sucker punch the freak. And why in the hell didn't he rush into the bathroom to grab his weapon since the elder wasn't in need of it? Inasmuch, why did the hybrid take his gun if he didn't use it? It was the only reason he let him borrow the gun; to loan it out since he didn't have his.
When the dry-rotted human soared a few feet away he dashed into the restroom, gazing upon his hardware sitting idly in the basin. Such a condition she lied in briefly infuriated him after realizing his weapon portrayed a useless employment to Dante's merit. If he didn't require the thing, then why didn't he return it to him?
Planning on igniting the inhuman shell into oblivion, then shooting the crossbreed in the neck for his asshole-ish tendencies, never enacted the plan he conjured up. The decayed zombie returned for round two... and nearly won. As he turned to fight in the main office, the beast leapt up and semi-speared him to the ground.
"Fuck, these things are fast," he voiced in a rush. On the way down, he cracked the back of his head on the sink, vision amplified to near unconsciousness when his noggin slammed on the tiled floor. The corpse advanced, Nero making a show to shift his limbs but the painful throbbing emanating behind his skull prohibited such movements.
A light build-up of shame clouded his intuition, scolding his lack of ability to watch his surroundings. When he fought between the zones of the wall unit, chairs, and desk he danced around the objects with ease; they splintered off a few pieces of wood but the sharp blade struck the opponent when prompted. And if he battled in tinier spaces, he should've expanded his awareness to his minuscule freedom to drift about.
And even more disturbing provided the chief not saying a word to him. Usually he'd spit out a snarky comment here or an idiotic taunt there, yet his quietness left him rather bothered now. When the chief's lips were sealed from his babbling, he took mild comfort in the silence, but this quiet demeanor deposited a cold swelling pitted in his gut.
One that spoke volumes of a focused nature overriding any notion of fuckery from either hunter in the future. Furthering his troubling thoughts maintained the immobile actions from the veteran. The man practically sat there while he countered his attacker's cannibalistic lust.
Somewhere in his mind, the small part still capable of rationality, he wanted Dante to say something irritating or joke about his abilities; to taunt or goad him into that moronic banter because at present, it seemed like it never existed.
He clung to consciousness in a frenzied measure to fend off his antagonist, yet the deafening sting was too great to bear. If he bumped his head once then he'd manage just fine. That second bludgeon to his brain case did him in; skull roughly bouncing off the tiled floor from the pace he descended.
A dark energy swelled up within his being, rising forth to urge its handler to use its strength to conquer this threat to extinction, but darkness consumed him before such a power came to be utilized. The last image he remembered were sharp claws running down his legs before all his senses drowned in sea of obscurity.
A/N: Don't you love cliffhangers?
Well, it seems that Nero can't catch a break on Dante's ever changing personality. While the sexy hybrid is a carefree asshole the majority of the time, I wanted to give him a more serious tone for a bit, before changing back. But when will he do so?
And Nero...sorry boo but you are accident prone in here XD.
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