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Darkened Whispers	By : Britt_601 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3837 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the DMC series nor is any money being made off of this.

Chapter List
- 1-Trial
- 2-Restraint
- 3-Cycle
- 4-Greed
- 5-Mirage
- 3
- 4
- 5
Greed
Hazy yellow-orange streaks shone down on a brick, gray-brown building, dingy from neglectful upkeep as the days passed by. Inside the old but sturdy dwelling sat a tall man sifting through a random magazine, seeing a chrome and black motorbike park outside his shop. His nerves tightened, preparing for the incoming nagging trailing the heels trotting up the steps.
3... 2... 1...
“Dante, are you here?”
“Go away, Lady.”
The female hunter stood at the shop's entrance of Devil May Cry, glaring at the devil slayer sitting behind his desk, nerves already on edge over her arrival.
“Why aren't you answering the phone?” she said, mocking the answer she knew he would give.
“What day is it today?” he replied, bored.
“Tuesday.”
“Then that should explain everything,” he responded, giving her a pointed look.
“Oh come now, am I that predictable?” Brown booted heels walked further into the office, her attire of a single-buttoned, pin-striped blazer and matching hot pants combing through his field of vision. “What if it's a job and you're missing out on it?” Her deep brunette, choppy hair smelled of peaches, not a strand out of place and professionally cared for.
“The only customer that calls on a Tuesday is the incessant bill collector standing in front of me,” he grumbled in recollection of her stubborn and neediness for his money, “I'm starting to think you hound money from me on purpose. Why is my I.O.U so large with you again?” Dante flipped through an issue of Cycle World, pining over the bikes he could only daydream to own with his fleeting finances.
She scoffed. “Do I need to remind you of all the loans I got for you, not to mention all the times you've borrowed from me? You've racked up quite the tab.”
“Yeah you do, every time you come over. Two loans for $10,000 a piece.” Dante gave a slight glare before returning to his book. “Remember that cutesy little mission in Fortuna? When it was over you brought me and Trish our paycheck, but not before you took my share before I even got to see it. Very un-ladylike by the way, but seeing it's you, you could give two shits.”
Her sculpted narrowed eyebrow said otherwise, rising above her rose-tinted glasses. “Bullshit! The only reason I demand money from you is that you never pay back what you borrow. And speaking of borrowing, the loan still isn't paid off in full yet.”
Battle-scarred legs walked over to the dingy billiards table, taking off the harness to her rocket launcher and setting it beside her. She picked up a pool stick, aligning the tip to the ball prior to connecting the two, a red-striped ball rolling in a straight line into the pocket.
“Hmph, I wonder why. You probably took that money to buy you one whole outfit.” Dante put the magazine down and picked up his frosty can of beer, sneaking a peek at Lady's backside, ruminating deep in thought. “Why are women's clothing so expensive?”
“Wrong.” She moved over to another ball, lining up the shot. “Loan sharks have something called interest. I paid off the initial loan, but you owe nearly $3000 back in unpaid payments. Add that to the $4000 you already owe me... tsk, tsk, tsk. That's not a good look for you buddy.” The cue ball cracked a green one, spiraling towards the edge of the table before joining its sibling.
She stole a glance in his direction, noticing his scrunched lips. Had he learned to save his pocket change instead of squandering it on needless vices, he wouldn't be in this situation when it came to owing her.
“Need I remind you that that's your bill to me. We won't go into your debt with the city.” Lady set the stick against the table, walking over to the front of his desk, arms crossed in expectance. “All right now, cough it up.”
Dante took a turn to raise an eyebrow, peeved that she made Tuesdays her “Make Dante Broke” holiday she celebrated with dark glee. “Does it look like I have any money right now? I'm broke. Try again next Tuesday for the same outcome as today.”
She chuckled in bitter amusement. “Dante stop playing around. Didn't you finish a job last Thursday?”
“Yup.”
“And?”
“... What?”
“You got paid for it, didn't you?”
“Yup.”
“So hand it over.”
“Hand what over?”
A strained sigh escaped her lips. “The money from the job.”
“I can't.”
“Why not?”
“Did you pass by the gas station on your way over here?”
Dante stood, making his way to the pool table to toss a couple balls himself. Her light, rosy perfume danced in airy swirls on his nostrils, coupled by her becoming irritance through slitted eyes.
“Your point?”
“Gas is $4.35 a gallon. That shitty mission you sent me on wasn't worth the pay and that long-ass drive. So it ain't no money left. Drove two damn hours to kill some overgrown rats―”
“'Odd-jobs extraordinaire.' That's on your business card. That's what you do. You take on odd jobs.”
“So where does it come in with you taking every dime I have?”
“Are you listening to me?” Her voice rose, peeved over his excuses that had nothing to do with her. “Should I look up the definition of 'borrow' for you and let you read it?”
“Should I scrape up the pennies hiding in this house to buy you some Q-tips? I ain't got no money. It's gone.” He turned his pants pockets inside out to emphasize his point.
“And whose fault is that?”
In his rambling her bi-colored eyes flitted to a Playboy magazine on his desk, noticing a small space between a clump of pages that didn't appear natural. Is he hiding his stash there? Did he think she would search in his drawers (as she had done before) and forget about rummaging over his desk?
“Uh, yours obviously. You're the one who keeps planting expenses on my desk instead of a damn paycheck!”
Lady heard the grinding of his teeth, heavy footsteps walking past her to go into the bathroom, with her feigning interest in her nails. When he slammed the door she took two steps towards his desk, reaching her fingers into the mysterious opening to the book, sneering at the naked woman on the cover.
“Well, you're the one who has to overkill everything then disguise it as 'flair.' Is the property you damage in the scuffle worth all that?”
Her voice heightened to conceal her movements as she felt under the space, her fingertips touching a cylindrical object, wrapping her digits around it. A pink tongue rested against her upper lip in concentration, bringing the rolled item to her sight and tucking the money in her bra. Booted heels tip-toed back to the pool table, absently holding the 8-ball in her hand to disguise her committed actions.
A hard trickle echoed in the bathroom, Lady thinking it best to leave while the opening lied in her grasp. “Well, I'll be back here soon,” she hoisted Kalina Ann onto her shoulder, a firm stroll coating her steps.
“I don't know why. I need money to pay you back, don't I?” She heard him shout, halfway down the steps after he finished speaking.
Her form molded to the slender vehicular beast, placing her helmet on top of her head after she ignited her bike. Dante could play her the fool all he desired yet she knew him well enough to bypass his trickery, and he should have realized by now she never played around when money was involved.
The engine revved three times, the booming sound bouncing off the surrounding buildings, releasing the clutch to accelerate down the street. Her tires left a tread of rubber in the road, a visible mark showcasing her presence (and victory) gracing Dante's territory.
Despite her success in taking something rightfully belonging to her an essence possessed by another hitched a ride, blending into her shadows to follow her eclectic attitude.
Lunch, a shower, and a quick nap re-energized her mood, feeling refreshed enough to do a little shopping. She ignored Dante's twenty phone calls, thinking to let him ride out his anger in lieu of the missing money.
He once boasted of his ability to forgo nourishment for two weeks. Therefore Dante was a glutton, stuffing his face with pizza when he had no appetite or hunger pangs. She told him she would never leave him starving but after he revealed that revelation, he needed no monetary sustenance to squander on binging.
Though, if its been two weeks since he last ate...
Wearing a dark green romper and strappy beige heels she grabbed her purse and concealed holster, stashing a stubby yet powerful .40 chrome and black revolver in case danger approached.
Passing by her mirror a warm red and cool blue eye glanced at her face, adjusting to her dry cheeks and dimmed complexion. Her ebony locks had fallen limp from sending demons to their fateful ending, leaving her little time to pamper her appearance after their filth and grime lowered her physical aesthetics.
“Ugh, Suzy's Spa here I come.”
Her fingers rubbed through her hair, fluffing it out to save what little luster it had left then exhaled in harsh spite. The sooner her style received a small update, the better she'll be able to function on other priorities... like getting Dante's finances in order.
Another payment to the loan agency wasn't due until next week, catching up after she used this money to repair a small part on her bike, leaving her an opening to pamper herself prior to listening to Dante rant about his bills.
“Suzy's Spa sounds expensive.”
Manicured nails froze on the doorknob, whirling around after she pulled out her firearm. A hot jolt ran through a stiff spine, mixed eyes scanning her apartment in alert scrutiny. The closest lamp to her sat in the living room, walking in the short hallway from the door to reach it.
A soft sheen of pale light illuminated the black and white main den, seeing her sparse but decorative furnishings in their respective locations. Her hardened vision inspected every nook and cranny on her way to the kitchen, thinking the stranger ran in there, keeping her back to the wall and her steps quiet.
Lady inhaled small breaths, softening the rapid thuds of her heartbeat. Her revolver stayed close to her chest upon slinking into her chestnut brown, Italian-styled kitchenette. She squatted behind the island, creeping against the wooden surface until she reached the switch to flick it on. Bright yellow light swept over the clean space, looking around the island for the source.
Could she have imagined to hear the strange voice, perhaps outside her door while lost in her thoughts? Yet it repeated the spa name just as she did. Surely it isn't a coincidence?
“I must be losing my mind,” she whispered aloud.
“I'd go crazy if you'd spent my hard-earned money on your personal vices too.”
This time a cold shrill skittered up her spine, knuckles turning white from the strong handle on the gun. Clenched teeth steeled against clacking jaw bones, willing her tightened leg muscles to find the elusive person.
She swallowed in thick gulps, gathering her nerves to recover her voice, strengthening to kill this fucker who dared to break into her home.
“Show yourself, you bastard!” Her demand shot out with a shrill undertone, annoyance simmering in magnitude because she sounded weak. Weak is one thing she hated to be.
Strappy heels stopped moving en route to her living room. Someone had turned off the light near her couch.
Bare legs moved without permission, turning around to double back into the kitchen.
A click rung in her ears, darkness swallowed her in rapid settlement. The intruder had flicked off the switch.
The noisy breath she blew out sounded like a whimper, adamant to brighten her surroundings to see her opponent. Quick movement led her to the living room lamp, a sharp rustling sound directed her attention to her open curtain.
A dark figure sat on her window sill, a leg propped over a knee, the moon's rays shedding light on a white rectangular paper held in one palm.
Her hand shot out to flick the switch, halting her finger's momentum when a heavy yet familiar voice spoke. “Don't turn on the light.”
Using her quivering nerves as encouragement she turned on the switch, bi-colored eyes landing on her mysterious intruder, gun aimed in direct alignment with his skull.
“Fuck,” the male voice growled, pinching his eyelids from the sudden light piercing the room. “I guess you can add 'hard-headedness' to your personality traits.”
Lady's mouth parted, the revolver in her grip shaking upon the man sitting in her living room. His hair, skin, and clothing had darkened considerably, leading her to believe he had gone over the edge... or undergone an extreme makeover.
“Dante?” her mouth breathed the name on stilted lips.
Tinted hues of hardened crimson drifted in her direction, focusing on her without a hint of warmth, malice seeping into his look in veiled anger. “Don't call me that name.”
His tone chilled her, locking her limbs in frozen shock by how his evil aura exuded an oppressive air. Darkness seeped from his core, his mood laced in thick coats of virile contempt. Instincts kicked in, re-affirming her grip on her pistol because this wasn't Dante. Is it a changeling or an incubus? How did it get in here and what did it want with her?
“This 'loan' I'm looking at is a little fishy.” The man turned back to the paper, irises barely seen as he squinted over the words. “You said he owes $3000 when, in actuality, it's $6,827. Suspicious, wouldn't you say?” His accusatory comment complemented narrowed eyes supporting an unkind gleam.
A roiling sensation of indignant emotions bubbled inside her, prickling her brain with the urge to retort in violence yet she needed to calm her sentiments. Lady had to exercise her wits, weaving cautious and defensive awareness towards this intruder—to this demon.
“Who are you?” She demanded, her tone sounding stronger than before.
“Not like it'll matter to you but if you must know, I simply go by 'Dark' or when I need to blend in with you humans, Etnad.” He drawled in a bored voice, never taking his eyes off the paper.
“Why do you look like Dan-” she thought better to not say Dante's name, taking a foot nearer towards the dark male, “-him? Why take his form?”
“You made a payment on this two months ago. What have you done with all that money you hound from him?” He ignored her query.
Another step inched closer to the mystery man, mismatched eyes seeing an assortment of papers near him. How did he search her house to come across those?
An impatient huff sprang from her mouth, angered over the notion of a demon searching through her belongings, judging her based on his ignorant beliefs on her and Dante's partnership.
“You're getting angry.” he smiled, “I can hear your lapping heart beat, your grinding teeth. I can even smell your acrid fear-”
“Fuck you,” she snarled in a venomous tone, keeping her hands from trembling, finger twitching on the trigger. “Why the hell are you here?”
A lazy smirk quirked his lips, slitted eyes shifted to her tense form. He has watched her for some time now, evolving from this hard and guarded girl to this hard and guarded materialistic woman....and she received her ill-gotten gains by pimping out that mongrel.
Her ways intrigued him, witnessing how something so human and frail could harness commanding obedience, especially to the hybrid.
“I'm curious to know how you bend that half-bred bitch to your obstinate will.” His smile darkened, a nasty look splaying in his eyes. “For years, you take what he rightfully earns then squander it to dress like a hooker... among other things.”
He heard her breathe through her nose, slanting bi-colored eyes in dangerous intent. Her ambiance swirled in potent clouds, gathering energy to shock him with her enraged thunder of violence... or try to.
“Tell me your secret,” he propped an elbow on his knee after he let go of the paper, leaning his head against a gloved hand in direct fashion to Dante's, fully focused on her. He continued, “How can you make an idiotic demi-god bow to your whims?” Then added as an afterthought. “I guess I just answered my own question. Pain is the best way to train a dog.”
“Leave,” she uttered, voice heavy with disdain, her feet shuffling closer. “I won't tell you again.”
A gleam twinkled in his eyes, humored over her will to guard her pride―from exposure of her facts. Yes, that's it. Humans often hate critique and judgment of their vices and issues, left to the critic to dissect their problems and throw it back in their faces.
How fun this was going to be.
Bang!
Smoke flowed in small tendrils from a smoking barrel, the shooter's widened eyes looking at the bullet caught between two gloved fingers. An impassive face stared at the slug, twirling the metal object with disinterested turns.
“Does it feel good to get your way?” He tossed the bullet with a calm 'clink' on the table, shaking out his hand before resuming his relaxed state on her window sill. “How many times have you shot him, in the head mind you, because he hid his money or he got on your nerves?” Fixed eyes trailed up and down her physique. “You're quite ballsy. I like that.”
She bristled. “You don't know a damn thing about me nor do I care about what you say!” Judging by his quick reflexes he was no ordinary devil, unable to acquaint himself with defeat through conventional means.
“Or maybe I'm missing something,” Dark lightly scratched his head in thought, pursing his lips together. “Perhaps you know you can get away with it. Like a... rush of sorts you indulge in without consequence.”
Her arms lowered, vision flicking to the table, remembering she propped a specialty gun packing 'special' bullets underneath it, just in case any demonic event, such as now, happened inside her home. She needed to guard herself against this 'Etnad' before he decided to attack her for his sick amusement. He moved about her house with astonishing quickness, and from what she observed he possessed shadow techniques.
No matter, she's battled bigger and scarier demons than this judgmental prick. Though it begged the question of how he knew about the goings on with her and Dante.
With easy steps to appear unfazed of his presence she trailed to her love seat, lessening the goosebumps crawling all over her skin to lead him with a false sense of security. She counted her time, willing her defensive streak to hold out on making an irrational move.
Lady sat on the edge of her couch, revolver still in her hand but she relaxed her grip.
“Deep down I think you know that dumb bitch won't hurt a human, so you take advantage of that, am I right?”
Her trigger finger flinched.
“And you know he can't die by ordinary means, so you enjoy using him for target practice on your insipid journey to kill every last demon... good luck on your delusional goal, babe,” he snorted, reaching for another paper to examine.
A heavy weight settled in her lungs, her hands clenching with sweat at his dismissal of her life's work. Hmph, it's easy for him to look at her from the outside when his kind drove her on this path in life.
How many lives have they destroyed when they wanted to play with a little girl's intestines? Did they ever stop to think about a family's grief and loss? Are they familiar with losing someone important to them?
No.
Senseless destruction and perverse violence fueled their worthless souls with the indiscriminate pleasures of killing, infecting the human populace and a bullet to the head stopped them from spreading.
Only three devils counted in her exception to the rule, able to witness firsthand what disastrous and despairing wreckage those they shared the wicked bloodline with craved to do.
“It's not a stupid goal,” her cold voice echoed in her house, leaning forward to emphasize her point. “I won't stop until every demon is eliminated from this plane.”
He paused, then scrunched his lips to one side. “Ah, I get it now. You made him your lackey.”
“... What?”
“Remember those few jobs you took on and you battled a demon-lord? When he made you recognize your limits? So you command him to finish the dinner you only got the chance to smell-”
Bang!
Dark tilted his head, feeling the bullet's heated wave whiz by his nose, trailing its trajectory until it bolted into a wall.
“You're not good at listening to your faults are you?”
That same humored glint shone in his obsidian-ruby eyes, glancing upon her angered, flushed face. He must be edging her closer to a point she doesn't want to go over.
“I've had about enough of your shitty insults, asshole-”
“Not insults sweets, facts about yourself you don't want to grasp onto. I don't even think there's a valid reason you act high and mighty around him when you're just a mort-”
A revelation skimmed through his eyes, seeping into his face by rapid blinks and raised eyebrows. He couldn't believe he didn't think of this before in detail.
Rich laughter filled the living room, Lady staring upon her adversary as if he'd gone mad. His dark chortle unnerved her, like he discovered some false justification about her actions.
She told him his words didn't affect her and she cared less for his opinion yet her mouth acted on its own accord, saying what stewed in her mind.
“It's easy for you and your kind to call us weak-minded when you're bathing in our blood, isn't it?” Gritted teeth stressed her point, a shifting ache rising in her core, creeping its way up her windpipe.
Her lips moved independently from her brain, unable to filter her words from riling him in anger.
“Dante has something you demons can never grasp the concept of, more or less use it in the name of good will.”
His humored nature ceased. “I warned you not to use that name.”
“I told you to get out of my house. Unless you don't want to fucking hear it, then leave.” Nimble legs stretched out under the coffee table, ready to kick it over and grab her special gun. It seems hearing anything positive about the devil hunter irked him.
“The only thing your petty human emotions are good for is to pluck my nerves raw.”
“Because he has morals and values-”
“Those morals and values conflict with his nature,” he stood, his voice lowered to a dangerous pitch, towering over her frame drawing nearer to her.
Trained muscles kicked the table over, Lady reaching to grab the gun when her body froze, bi-colored eyes landing on the empty casing of her specialty weapon.
Black pieces cluttered onto the floor, looking at dark shadow vapors retreat into the ground beneath her adversary. Her mind raced with uncertainty, viewing his ability to command umbran forces of his will. She had weapons in her bedroom but could she reach them in time? But what if he destroyed her machinery as well, seeing how he searched through her bills.
“I have watched him doubt himself over the dumbest shit imaginable,” his lips puckered, one side rising in distaste of the memory, advancing upon her in slow strides.
Impulse drew her into action, jumping out her chair to make a dash to her room. Her heart thrummed with increased pumps, tuning into her skills honed over the years should he reach out to touch her.
Lady shoved herself through her bedroom door, colliding with a hard surface knocking the wind out of her. Cold fingertips grabbed the handle of her gun, bringing forth her fist to defend herself, swinging out in wild strikes at the air. Her feet kicked out to the other intruder who worked alongside this 'Etnad.'
“It gets on my nerves, with him, always wanting to tell people off but he doesn't. Keeping shit to himself...”
Dark sat on the edge of her bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs, hands dangling free. Ruby-tinted irises glittered in the near-opaque niche of the bedroom, watching the human struggle against the shadows holding her.
Her gun had disappeared from her grasp, Lady releasing a gasp at what shaped to be a hand coated in obsidian tendrils disarming her; the firearm vanishing into a pool of black smoke.
Somehow she knew he stole her weapons, leaving her defenseless and open to his advances, to whatever means he has planned for her. What could she do now to defend herself? Her patience in listening to him talk dissolved into silent contempt with every word he spoke. Calling 911 or Dante is out of the question, he'll just shatter or crush her phone. Running wasn't even an idea at this point.
“Don't worry,” he crooned, interlacing his fingers. “I didn't destroy your precious bazooka. While I think you mortals are a stupid lot, you do entertain me.” A devious smile cricked his lips upwards after his shadows released her letting her stand, posture rigid and tense with fisted knuckles, radiating an opposing zeal onto his aura. “I admit it's an art with you, pulverizing everything into ash.”
“You plan on killing me?” Mismatched eyes bore into his own in heated anger, taut body positioned to strike him without notice. Her chin lifted, shoulders reared back to deflect any negative comments aimed at her.
This is what he wanted, a chance to see the tough woman exposed with her faults in front of her.
“I could... and I can. He'll be none the wiser. Knowing him, he'll fault some demon you failed―oh excuse me―tried to exterminate.”
“As if you will,” she growled, dark and defiant to his threats.
Dark laughed. “Here you go using your anger as a defense mechanism to hide your weaknesses. Like now, without your guns and Dante's money supporting you and your faults thrown in your face, what do you have left?”
To the trained eye it looked like she stood motionless but he saw her tremble, unadulterated rage coiled tightly in a spring, ready to strike him in all her fury.
“I'm not lying, am I? You both know that you're human so you get away with a lot of shit no one else can. This... twisted bond that asshole has formed with you makes it easier to fake his natural sentiments. Time and time again you treat him like a living rag doll and he accepts it, so I want to know why-”
“What the fuck is it to you!”
The wind escaped her lungs when her back collided against the wall, the pessimistic fucker pressing his weight to her front, holding her wrists to either side.
“I am his shadow,” Dark revealed sharpened canines to her eyes, blood-red irises glowing in the light-less room. “Instead of him expressing his devilish nature he represses it, feeding me with a volatile energy and I am sick of it.”
Scentless breath blew into her face, surrounded by this woodsy, metallic musk he wore. Lady had to look away from his penetrating stare, gritting her teeth to swallow the rage consuming her, thinking of a way to get out of this... alive.
“Then why don't you take that up with him?” she snarled, pressing herself further into the wall to escape his touch but he didn't budge.
“I can't.” He punctuated each word. “He's gotten good at blocking me out. Nothing I've done has worked, that's why I want to know your secret.”
“I don't have any!”
“Oh yes, you do.” He paused, gripping her wrists tighter. “Yes you do. You can take his last dime without a hint of remorse yet he never curses you out or fucks you back in spades. Why?”
Her mouth parted, eyeballs enlarging in shock, taking in his aggravating temper and cold hostility. What did he want her to say? It wasn't like she could explain it to him in simple terms.
Dante shared a special bond with her, fighting alongside her in battle, her helping him out on missions. He looked out for her and she took care of him―in their own way that few could understand. To this 'Etnad' her ways are a bit unorthodox in how she interacts with Dante, but that's how their relationship is. At any time the devil hunter can set boundaries on what is and isn't acceptable concerning their actions, but no such topic ever arose.
Save for her having to shoot him a few times because he gets a little touchy-grabby.
They're connected. Bonded by families. Warriors fighting together against adversaries of misery and death.
And if Dante's personified shadow can't see that, then fuck him.
“We're friends,” she started, finding her voice to tell him off while breathing through the pain he inflicted upon her. “We've hated each other, cared for one another... there's solid trust between us. Whatever spats come about can't hold us back from connecting and continuing on as before.” Her eyes found his, resolute to drive her next point through his discriminated brain.
“Dante has a genuine soul, only those who have a heart can see that.”
“So where the hell does it come in with you treating him like shit?”
She bristled but kept her composure. “Dante will lose his office if he doesn't keep his payments on time. The collectors already tried to take his home, but things got physical.”
The memories of the devil hunter sending off the repo men with broken fingers and wrists prompted Lady to take over his bill, managing payment arrangements to keep the repo men from making the same mistake twice.
“The added amount you saw is from Dante borrowing another loan without me knowing it.” Then added later. “If you're his shadow, how come you don't know that?”
“I don't care for his daily activities. They're mundane and useless to me.”
Asshole.
He released her wrists, backing all the way near the bed with trained eyes on her. Humans are deceptive little bastards, weaving carefully concocted words to make another trust their tales. She had a straightforward attitude and he sensed no direct lies. However, is she being true to herself or only telling him what she thinks he wants to hear?
“Hm,” he muttered, unconvinced. “So to keep him docile all you need to do is put on a fake smile-”
“No. I earned his respect. He can trust anyone he wishes to but to earn his friendship is another matter.”
“Oh. So act like he means something to you then boss him around, eh? Like that saying goes, 'kill them with kindness.'”
“That's not how-”
“Yes it is,” he said, donning a disinterested look on his face. “Once you've wheedled your way into his heart, he'll take a backseat to his natural urges to keep you near. See...”
Fragments of every weapon stashed in her house burst from the shadows on the floor, scattered about her feet in tiny useless pieces. She froze on the spot cradling her wrists, thinking to let him have the last senseless word on the twisted assumption of her meaning.
“Can you stand there with a straight face and tell me you won't badger him for money to replace all your guns? Since he's your 'friend' you'll take his earnings anyway, right?”
Her nails dug into her palms, a million thoughts to utter and actions to enact prompting her limbs into motion but she stayed rooted. She should have seen it before, using her awareness to notice how he thrived on negativity. He didn't want to hear the truth―no, her truth―on how her and Dante interacted with each other. The bastard probably wanted her to say how pathetic and sad Dante is to her, to betray and smear the devil hunter's pride but why would she if it held no truth to her?
Her thinned lips said nothing, bi-colored eyes staring at this... thing that wanted to tear her down but for what? Because his irritation grew with Dante taking the high-road when he could have so easily submitted to his primal instincts? Is he tired of his better soul caring for others? Was he jealous of no one showing compassion towards him? Was he even capable of feeling that?
With a hard sigh Dark left her bedroom and walked down the short hallway to the window in the living room, hearing enough veiled bullshit to last him a lifetime.
She didn't know what she was talking about. That foolish woman told herself all those pretty lies to cover her fear from what the hybrid truly is.
How disappointing.
The half-breed has a dark side no petty human emotions can cover. What will her status with him be when he gives in to his baser heritage? What will she think when she witnesses his damned side ripping and shredding mortals to pieces because he let his nature free?
Is she still going to see him as a friend then?
“Friendship, huh?” Dark lifted her window, taking a final glance in her direction before he jumped out, merging into the darkness of the night.
A/N: “Her previous encounters with Dante are long and twisted; however, the two have become something like friends. She has been known to force her dirty work upon her "friend" and then demand vast sums of compensation in return.” - DMC website. That last part, coupled with her role in the anime prompted me to write this.
In DMC3 she had a nice chunk that showed more of her personality and in the anime and DMC4 her character is like 'I'm the bitchy gold digger'. Hell, stories on here and the author's interpretation of her character are so much more in-depth than what Capcom could ever put out.
P.S. If anyone wants to know, these stories aren't connected/following in a time-line unless if I say Greed: Part 2 or something.
P.S.S. DMC4:SE edition has a video on YT showcasing Vergil's gameplay moves. And he has quite a few of them I must say :D
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Darkened Whispers