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The Chosen One Unknown	By : Britt_601 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3033 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the DMC series nor is any money being made off of this.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
The Story: This little piece of fiction has an OC in it as well as Vergil...and Dante...and small appearances from the other cast of the DMC series. And other OC's as well. So please, if you are the type to hate every OC in the existence of writing, use the back button to find another story. Thank you.
Story Tidbits:
Interlopes with Chapter 4, mostly Dante's POV
Enemy name: Barafu- means ice in Swahili
Stats: Beta-Lohce Azcry. 20 pages hand-written/14 pages typed.
Final Word: Read on to dream on...

Secluded Nights
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No!"
"Aw, why not?"
"Because a shitload of jobs came your way and you passed them up. Hell, even I begged you to take them on but you refused!" An angry female voice yelled out to her visitor, offended that he worked up the nerve to ask her for money when he let it walk away from him.
"I already told you why I couldn't, Lady."
"And that was a shitty ass excuse, Dante."
"It'll be for a few days, then I'll repay you."
"You? Pay? Since when!"
"C'mon Lady!" Dante, the shameless creature he morphed into, temporarily resorted to his old ways to sustain himself and that thing he called a brother. If Vergil wasn't under his care then the devil hunter would be able to last a few days on his lonesome, but circumstances presenting...
"Dante, I have two jobs lined up, even though they're minor─"
"It's a hundred bucks! What's the big deal?" The new enemy species allowed him to vacate his premises for twenty minutes or shorter, never knowing if one of those goons would break in. This reason persisted good enough of a lie to keep Lady naive. But she may figure out his secret of hiding his elder brother; his supposed-to-be-dead elder brother.
"C'mon, this is the smallest amount I've ever asked you for."
Talking to Lady's bedroom door edged him no closer to his goal, she had yet to open it since his arrival. He inclined to kick it down and demand an answer from her, but he didn't want to surprise her if she dressed herself. It would be a delectable treat to see nonetheless, but he needed to persuade her to provide him with monetary sustenance while in a calm mood.
"Dante, either you take these jobs with a guaranteed notion that you'll carry some spare change in your pocket, or you can wait until you're ready."
Son of a bitch. Why is she being so difficult?
"$75?"
Silence greeted him, the sound of a ticking clock resounded in his immediate vicinity. Outside her home the wind blew harsh gusts, the blowing air creating the chatter-like tweetings of children talking. Through the eerie harmony a barely audible 'hmm' met his ears, Dante taking it as a means to negotiate... at a much lower price.
"$65?"
"Mmmm..."
Aw come on!
"$60?"
"Well..."
Oh she's playing me now.
"...$55?"
"That's..."
Dante leaned his forehead against the door, wondering how he became this pitiful, dependent fool begging someone to loan him money. In the past he would have asked to borrow without a second thought as to how or when he might repay her. But he had to guard his secret of Vergil staying on the surface plane.
He meant to contact Lady and listen to her insight, after she calmed down from her rage, to see what provided the best course of action to benefit their livelihood. Though given the history shared between Lady's father, Arkham, and Vergil, he foreshadowed her negative answer.
He sighed, rubbing an eye in thought, sensing one problem topple on top of another. The secret will intensify in magnitude, knowing the issue can dissolve by telling his coworker─or just letting Vergil's neighbors take him back home.
The last encounter the twins shared happened on that Medieval-styled Mallet Island years ago, where their mother's killer reigned supreme and Vergil, in so many words, was Mundus's bitch.
The devil king brainwashed Vergil into this recessive demonic robot that had no willpower of its own except of its master's. However, clutching to the obstinate qualities that inhabited the elder twin's unique abilities, he still retained his capability to feel.
When Dante battled in opposition to his twin, then Nelo Angelo, the necklace his mother gave him would slide out between the confines of his vest. Nelo Angelo gazed upon the ornament with focused intent and in that moment, the dormant brother broke through his instillation and remembered what forced him to ride this route in life.
Can he personify the actions of a cold-hearted bastard and let his only surviving kin go?
"$50."
He leaned his forearm against the door, allowing an ocean full of questions plague his mind, deciding on which answers ordained to drought the plethora of queries.
Tender footsteps shuffled on soft carpet behind the door, retreating footfalls receding from his hearing until they returned. A light grunt sounded out before Dante's eyes trailed to the floor, the requested monetary bill sliding under the threshold. He reached down to pick up the note, muscles twitching around his mouth to make him smile. Yet the heavy situation concerning his older sibling prevented the upturned lips. And furthermore, he needed more money.
"Hey Lady?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I borrow 50 bucks?"
"What the hell?!"
The knob on a doorway turned, a white door swinging open to reveal a 5'8 pale woman wrapped in a dusky green, thigh high robe. A matching towel encased her hair, droplets of water kissed her skin in gentle drops. Little sprinkles showed prominent on her left leg, but the right one dripped heavy with the clear liquid. The succulent scent of peaches and vanilla rose with the steam coming off of her in thick waves.
In the stillness of the night the fragrant clouds swirled to his nose, smothering his senses to lose focus of his question. In spite of her aroma those bi-colored eyes dared him to say something perverted.
The half-human hadn't gotten laid in at least three months. He knew it hardly required an emergency, but the mixing of increased demons, Vergil's return and the new variety of Hell-spawn made him fidgety.
With the natural nature of a horny human and the insatiable sex drive of a demon left him with needs that needed to be met on a regular basis. He'd like to think he captured a hold of these urges, but he often slipped off his routine and into someone.
And Lady─in that clingy robe sticking to her still-wet body created sensual images to feast on.
His tactical fixation led to a light tinting of her cheeks. She excelled in staring down any man, sending their eyes headed in the other direction but Dante was different. Any normal chit-chat between the two provided loose eye contact she felt fine with, yet when he pointedly zoned in on her she couldn't help the notion of him looking into her soul. It was as if he moved to push past her exterior to see what emotions lied within her spirit.
Although the flimsy material of her robe left little to the imagination...
"I just gave you 50 bucks."
"It's not enough-"
"Not enough for what?"
Now she took her turn to glimpse at him─in rare form. A red, gray and white plaid shirt molded to his torso, a black tank top peeked out from underneath the cottony fabric. Dark blue jeans rested long and fitting on his legs while casual black boots nestled comfortably on his feet. She remembered seeing this top... about a year and a half ago when she bought it for him─and those jeans.
When they lucked out on an "off day", as uncommon of its significance, Dante would parade around his house in sweatpants... and not much else. She took it upon herself to buy him clothes to laze in after she satiated her shopping needs. He damn near loathed to go shopping for casual wear, so numerous articles of clothing he had in his closet came from her.
He leaned his weight against her door frame, scratching his brow bone in contemplation of telling her about Vergil. Without question she would storm over there and finish him herself, asking questions later as to his residence there. Then he thought to confess to her that Vergil has been spotted somewhere on the outskirts of the city. Or even say that a changeling is channeling him. It might give him enough time to determine Vergil's fate... if he's up to the task.
"Don't tell me it's for your dumb pizza tab."
He smirked but the feeling didn't reach his eyes. Something troubled him she noted, given the faraway look he sported.
"I hope it's not to pay for a cheap date," she rolled her eyes skyward to punctuate her point. Lady naturally admitted to the idea, seeing no other reason for him to be dressed so... nicely. Well, other than the decreasing demonic numbers to let him lounge in regular clothes.
When he shook his head again her ebony eyebrow shot up into the towel, speculations coming up blank for him borrowing money without taking a job. Some form of foul play leapt afoot.
"Dante... what's going on?" Lady crossed her arms, seeing those iceberg blues dart down, without shame, to rest on her bosom. A dissatisfied grunt passed through her lips, redirecting his attention to the subject─and away from her breasts. The robe covered her front in full, yet it felt like he undressed her with his stare. "I mean it, what's wrong?"
She saw his eyelids close, taking in a deep breath as if he came to a decision. Hopefully he would come clean about whatever obstacle troubled him. When he widened his milky orbs they seemed to have a brighter sparkle than when she first opened the door, a broader grin coming into focus.
Lady's curiosity leapfrogged over the tolerant nature she settled into, adamant to get to the bottom of Dante's worries prior to it becoming hers.
Indicating a limitation to infiltrate the root of his woes, that aloof mask slipped into place. The one where it veiled concerns and uncertainties, troubles and anxieties behind pulled-back lips, white teeth and warm eyes. Granted he was the same way around pizza, beer, women and the chew toys of Hell, but this disguise pushed all his "negative" emotions inside this box until it ruptured with a vengeance.
"Ah, nothing to worry your wet head over," he oozed out the words in that smooth voice denoted to sway any woman to his advances. He honed his gaze on her, lowering his eyes as one side of his mouth rose up a little higher than the other. "Though you might want to finish toweling off before you catch a cold."
Lady did not find amusement in his carefree persona. She noticed when he hid information from her.
"You're lying."
"Like I said, it's nothing."
"Damn it, Dante-"
"You know how I feel about unwanted company lurking in my territory." A partial-lie. New devils and demons invaded his region, some even straying too close to his front door and it made him wary, more so irritated, to increase his extermination methods. Given any other day he'd be delighted to playfully torture them, but the existence of his brother's livelihood stole away any enjoyment from the fight.
"And why is this supposed-"
"Supposed?" he asked her with a scoff.
"-batch of devils still keeping you locked inside your office?"
"They love to play hide-and-seek. They hide in the shadows and they seek out my treasures when they think I'm... not there." Son of a bitch. Speaking of which, he needed to get back home.
She took caution of the pause as the weight of his words settled in on him, tongue sticking in the side of his left cheek in reflection.
"Sounds like you're slipping," she pushed a little harder to see if he exerted to spill anything, "to let some oogie boogies boss you around."
More than you know.
"Oogie boogies don't have a say in how I move." The cracked mask slid into place, appearing as undaunted and cocky as ever.
"Oh yeah? So what does?"
"You do, babe."
Ugh, she hated that word. That may be his little endearing term towards her and Trish, but he called his temporary escorts that too.
"Very funny. It can never be simple with you. You always manage-"
"Just trust me okay?" A punctuated edge laced his voice, teetering on annoyance when he knew his she-partners were in the right, and they egged it on like a broken record. "It'll pass. These trespassing assholes will blow over soon. No big whoop."
He couldn't tell her. Not yet. Her strong disposition would crumble at the mere mentioning of his brother's name, then harden to a driven resolve to see his twin good and dead. He knew her to be an honest woman, way under that sometimes bitter, toughened outer shell, and he owed her the truth. Telling her prior to what he himself felt about the situation, fully, left potent suspicions in its wake.
Did his twin still pursue the senseless crusade to acquaint himself with power? And even if Vergil chose to go down this route, with Dante being a heavy roadblock, the younger hybrid remained fearless that his brother will never receive the chance to allow another Gate to open to the Underworld, period.
Oh yeah, eleven of those bucks will shoot towards a pizza to sort some shit out.
He flashed her a reassuring wink, stealing a quick peek at her gorgeous gams, moving to leave.
"Wait."
"Hm," he stopped his movements, tilting his head to the right to tune into her words.
"If something's wrong, no matter how big or small... you'll tell me about it, right?"
That voice of hers─that sweetly stubborn tone that twisted focused intent with emotional fervor, pleaded with him to let her know of his troubled misgivings. Yet his instincts told him that the burden, while his elder twin affected Lady, Trish, and Nero (Yamato really), lied on his shoulders. In the end, it settled with him to determine everyone's stance on Vergil's existence.
With his mouth formed into a thin line he turned his head to look forward, resoluteness forming in his being to solve this dilemma before it went to shit.
"Yeah." Maybe I won't even have to explain.
He answered her without a hint of emotion, walking down the hallway to leave out the front door. She tip-toed to the entryway, peeking into the hall to spot him rake a hand through his locks before he descended the steps, hands shoved deep into his pockets in reasoning. Perhaps she should take a swing by the office and see what's bothering him.
She hasn't met any new types of sulfur-suckers in a minute, however he said they congregated near his home. So were they confined to that area? But what drew them to mingle in that location?
Nothing bothered the guy and if something did, he shrugged it off with nonchalant grace. Inasmuch, this something made Dante choose his evasive words, cluing her in on what he thought she needed to remember and dismissing her when she tried to probe. On average it was the other way around, letting Dante ask questions and filling him on a need-to-know basis.
Lady heard him lock the bottom latch and close the door, indicating the exiting of her premises. She turned back around to finish toweling off, mind anticipating on when and where reposed the right time to sneak up on him. To find out what has him so secretive.
Dante could play her a fool all he wanted to, but it's going to take more than a false grin and ill-placed winks to pull one over on her. Just the same, Dante's a sneaky little bastard, discovering creative ways to keep her waiting on the truth. Yet he didn't uphold the measure of trickery up for long. Whether it was playing cards, shooting pool, or expenses gained from a job, he can't guard that invincible aura from her finding out his tricks.
She slid on a black t-shirt and matching underwear, slipping under her warm blankets to ponder Dante's game plan. No doubt she would voyage a trip to his residence and scope out the area herself, seeing the cause of Dante's sudden need to heed caution.
With that notion, she allowed the wind to breathe delicate whispers outside her window. The sound drove her off into a pleasant slumber, failing to banish the memory of Dante's muscular form wearing the clothes so well.

The boulevards occupied intimacy with the silence of the night, as it should be, but it made him yearn to walk on its sidewalks again. A few times he ventured outside did he take in the modified atmosphere beyond his four walls.
It felt refreshing to ride down the streets of his town. The sounds of the wind beat against random surfaces and his engine purred a gentle hum. Dante observed his changing environment. Whether the change provided a good thing still had to be decided.
Contemporary. The music. The restaurants. The people. All of it gravitated towards evolving with time. Old markets transformed into coffee houses. Fabric outlets changed into restaurant chains. Pawn shops morphed into little hang-out spots for teenagers, lounging around before they trotted off to commit lustful acts. Some of the adolescents doing the deed right behind the building.
Then again, this modernization took place mostly in the downtown district, where businesses and extravagant homes reigned supreme. Perhaps coming here reminded him of fleeting time and his own mortality.
Being of human and demon heritage allowed him to see the world reform thanks to his extended lifespan. Well, when he leapt far enough away from his neck of the woods did he witness the inconstant habitat. The neighborhood he never knew he lived in for so long was continents apart from what he recognized.
Except his block; he didn't know why no one wanted to give his area a quick paint-job. Hell, a simple touch-up would have sufficed plenty. Is it because many city-dwellers considered his territory a myth? Did rumors of rotten-fleshed skeletons carrying scythes and humanoid individuals with soulless eyes tearing citizens to shreds create these wild superstitions?
Well, while true and all, they can at least renovate a building. Maybe set a plant on a windowsill?
On the few days that things got too irksome for him to be around or to get out he enjoyed a small stroll through his town. His section of city wasn't... run-down, just abandoned. After the rising of the ancient demonic tower Temen-Ni-Gru (selfishly conjured up by the elder twin) a few miles from his house, people either disappeared or left in boatloads; the damned escapees terrorizing and diminishing the population.
Heading northeast from the fortress lied the worst part of the district; where humanity gave up on morals and ethics. Drug addicts, murderers, sex offenders, pedophiles, con-artists... that deserted region housed the scum of human beings. In natural fashion the unholy race lingered about the area, as if shielding the immoral-lived to socialize and breed as they saw fit. He understood if people stayed away from that place, and they did, but his dominion wasn't so bad.
"Everyone's got a warped view of what they should stay away from," he chuckled with a bitter scoff, making a convoy of rapid rights and lefts to take shortcuts home.
His passing adventures brought about a change in scenery, switching from clean businesses and manicured lawns to paint-chipped establishments and weed-sown fields.
As of late his familiar surroundings encouraged a loss of comfort. Not completely due to Vergil's reappearance but his withholding of information from the key players in this game. When the girls came around an oppressive air hung thick above them; he couldn't slip anything past them for long.
Deciding to turn on music to drown out his musings he passed by a street, hearing the roar of someone screaming into the evening. He slammed on the brakes in rough swiftness, turning off the radio to listen in on the timbre. Looking out the passenger window he made out a small moving figure far off in the distance.
Movements shook back and forth on the ground, trying to get up from its fall. A possible victim of naivety, thinking all would be well and safe to go out at night?
Seeing no harm in taking a small detour to investigate the disturbance he reversed the car and made a right. Driving down the road a peculiar sight focused into view, making him squint to extend his eyesight past the range of headlights on his machine.
A brief note of alarm settled in his being, realizing that that was no person whom lied in the street, but some ill-born fiend that fell on top of some poor soul; a woman judging by the high-octaves of screaming in her voice. Men don't scream like that─at least not that strong of a pitch when frightened... often.
"Going out for a late-night stroll won't be any good for ya, lady." Dante withdrew Ebony from the secret hideout in his pants, turning off the car's lights for a semi-sneak attack. The driver's glass avoided a fatal crack just in time for him to aim the reticle at the creature's skull. Leaning out the window the brute and the detainee came closer into focus, the devil hunter observing bright red-orange hair in heavy, soft waves on one side.
Wait, it can't be.
Before he recalled her name in his memory his trigger finger launched a barrage of bullets in a straight line, six slugs hitting the monster all over its chest since it moved its direction to flee. He slammed on the brakes, putting the car in park once it screeched to a full stop. When the humanoid-esque savage tried to make another grab at her he shot the thing again, this time joining Ivory in the mix.
The foe scuttled back, hopping onto a high gate in distress. He bolted out of his wheels to her aide, remembering her as his cashier the other day. In a strange sense of wanting to strike up a conversation about attracting rude individuals he wanted to talk. Though her bruised and battered body wiped the desire clear from his head, for now.
Hoisting her was a bad idea if her pain-induced holler gave any insight.
Shit, I hope nothing's broken. "Hey, are you all right?"
She sagged to the ground while he loosely held her, examining her form to see if something jutted out at an odd angle. "Can you walk?" he questioned her, concern laid thick in his voice.
Pale legs sported dirt and pebbles, blood mixing in with the gravel well-developed on her knee caps. His right hand touched around her, doing a quick scan to feel anything obvious out of place.
Eerie, irregular moans floated to his ears, Dante looking up as the hoppity demon eased closer to them. He can fire away in masked glee yet the presence of the injured posed too much of a risk to leave her defenseless.
Questions probed his head concerning the coincidence of the Messengers and this Hellish ogre taking interest in her. Demons and devils don't follow people out of habit unless for a specific reason. And this woman encountered these other-worldly critters twice. He needed to pull out his paranormal investigation skills to see if she checked out. Something didn't sit right with this circumstance.
Just as he tried to remember her name, she made an attempt for his and almost succeeded, if it wasn't for the last three letters to make his name 'Daniel.' Rendering his name close enough he gave a loose warning of his intentions; half-squinting his eyes after her pained howl nearly bombed his hearing, lifting her to the safety of his ride.
In the instance of a second he shielded his left arm from the ice knife the degenerate stabbed him with. The demon hunter moved away and closed the door before penetrating his fist into the troll's face. It flew backwards several feet, rolling back on its shaking legs, crouched and snarling at its abuse.
"Man, you guys are getting uglier by the minute." If he recalled that movie about the legions of travelers fighting for that gold ring, the creature bore an uncanny resemblance to that... human-troll. Except this gremlin carried the features of white skin, black eyes, a stronger body, and ice-wielding powers. The dagger-like knife in his forearm was actually a thick spear. "Your parents must realize that two uglies don't make a pretty baby."
His calm stroll belied the rising fire spreading throughout his limbs, quenching his thirsting hunger for a fight eluding him. "But maybe I can supply you with an extreme makeover. Might give you a better chance with the ladies, don't you think?"
He pulled the frozen rod out, throwing the bloodied object from him with a sneer. His attention focused on the gaping hole, engrossed at the feat considering he hadn't sustained an injury this bad since on that island town of Fortuna.
Red fleshy, pulpous muscle healed the vast wound from the bottom first. Thin, tube-like tendons curved in all directions over the tissue, dark veins connecting the fibers in a long channel to continue its proper function of mobility. A flash of a regenerating radius gritted his teeth, followed by a crimson river of blood hiding under reconnected skin.
Oh what a luxury and a curse it is to heal while feeling the damaged portion of his anatomy do so. The spasms and shocks of his body knitting together hampered on his nerves, Dante biting through the discomfort to retain his sanity. The average human would have passed out or even died from the torment the hole commanded to permit.
He guessed that endured something else his demonic heritage was good for-regenerating his health back from sustaining near fatal injuries. It wasn't all in vain though; he returned the misery onto his opponent.
While observing his healing arm the snow-white varmint leapt past him. The hunter reached his right palm out and caught the thing on instinct by its ankle. "Since you painted the nice lady's legs in black and red, how 'bout I paint you in red only?"
From the upside-down position the monstrosity hung, Dante detected an exhale from its mouth; a gray puff of air crystallizing to take shape of a spear. It twisted to swipe at him, sucking in part of the draft that didn't form and breathed out sharply, the object releasing straight toward his heart. With minimal effort on Dante's behalf he grabbed it with his left hand.
"Don't you know it's not nice to throw things? 'Cause what happens if it's done to you!" The growl that left his throat complemented the anger with which he used to pierce the spear in the ogre's chest. His lips quirked, sensing the fiend's flesh rip apart at the seams. The howl startled him, he thought he castrated a goat.
Muscle declined to keep the brute's structure together, the demon hunter reveling in the feel of the knife slicing into the bone. The white-toned beast screeched and writhed in torment, shifting its hands to reach up and pull out its blade stuck in its body.
Fueled by the anguished cry Dante yanked the inhuman savage over his head, slamming it down on its face, mocking its urge to flee. "Oh come now, you can scream louder than that. Let's see who has the bigger vocals: you or the lady!"
Still clutching its ankle Dante threw the monster in an arc in the opposite direction, letting its chalky visage free fall hard into the concrete. That indescribable sensation flooded his insides, but he recognized what took commonplace every time the weak proved imminent for the strong to conquer.
Bloodlust.
It was needed. Natural. Instinctive. Ingrained forever into the essential order of demons. Given the status or rank of a devil the weaker fodder relented their strength to more challenging savages. Most of the time the Hell-bred operated alone, especially devils, yet the occasional necessity to butcher in savage mercy... had to commence every so often.
If they accumulated to kill off each other then he didn't give two shits, but humans they didn't need to mess with either. Let mortals chop each other to pieces by themselves, the damned shouldn't exacerbate their situation.
In the midst of gnawing on his chew toy his eyes caught sight of a pair of brown orbs shaking in fear. She struggled to keep herself warm, he presumed, from falling into shock at the fictional foe that contended to eliminate her in a non-fictional way.
For the briefest moment he lost focus on eliminating the threat in efficient haste and took to playing with his food. A habit unashamedly embedded into his DNA but he had to curb it before it ran amok.
Reeling back from getting beside his person, he focused on his moral accountability to get her to safety. Then probing her suspicious actions after she cleaned up and calmed down.
A grunt passed through his lips, throwing the antagonist into a nearby vehicle, metal creaking and denting with its force. His hands withdrew his prized guns, twirling them in an arc before pointing them at his opponent.
"Barafu..." Dante halted his movements, tuning in to the soft vocals whispering out the strange word.
"Retreat Barafu." To the average passerby the words blended with the breeze, yet his demonic perception adjusted to the pitch of the voice's location; the hunter taking quick roving glances for the physical source.
"Barafu... come to me..." Dante whipped around behind him, his right ear picking up a presence beyond his ride. Ivory swung in its direction, eyes training to the darkness to allow him to focus on the elusive force.
A gush of wind enveloped his opponent in a sphere. Those weird, drunken-goat yells rose in volume until the globe ceased to transpire, leaving a demon-less creeper nowhere in sight.
"Ah, that's a let-down." He holstered his twin guns, standing a moment to see if his senses picked up anything amiss in the atmosphere. Maybe his mental faculties were a tad rusty from their lack of usage. He could have sworn he felt something other-worldly by him. The fearful woman sent out constant waves of paranoia on his radar, on the other hand the mystery voice hid in the shadows.
"I'm not finished eating," he toed the end of his boot on the pavement, a slender frown crossing his features from disappointment. Well, so much for a small piece of satisfaction coming from his hunting absence.
Not only did a lackluster fight come out of this, but his deprived shedding of blood and his clogged up lizard drove him closer to the edge.
A man can be pushed so far until the strings holding his sanity breaks.
He trekked in a light jog until he approached the driver's side and opened it, concern overriding his limp battle to help his cashier. Her hunched over form wracked violent shivers throughout her being, teeth clacking so loud he imagined her to have broken them. Dante wondered if she bothered to turn the heat on or if she entered the throes of hypothermia enough to do so.
He reached in the back seat and grabbed his leather jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders, squatting to view how badly her case presented.
"Do you have an asshole magnet attached to you or something?" He tried to approach her in a way that would calm her nerves, yet her shaking told him that she needed urgent care.
"Ah well lucky you there's a hospital a couple of blocks─"
His quick reflexes caught her from leaning out the car, large swollen blue fingers making a grab at him. The mentioning of the sanatorium brought about a fear she cared not to face, almost jumping out of the transportation in protest of where he wanted to take her.
"N-no. I'm f-fine. My knees j-jus... they h-hurt isss a-all." Every word tumbled out her mouth preceded a shake that racked her face back and forth, appearing as if she shook her head to answer 'no.'
"Girl, you are frozen shitless. Why don't you want to go?"
He grabbed her left hand in both of his hands, rubbing his palms over hers to minimize the cold and insert body heat into her. He did not miss the wince smudging her expression, indicating it must've felt like knives brushing over her skin.
If the demon injected her with some magical ice, then he'd have to look at it himself. Still, he will taxi her there unless she gave him a convincing reason not to.
Brown-sugared orbs pleaded with him not to drive her to that location, searching a reason to explain the lack of going for medical treatment he could believe. Images of her placement there as a youth she vowed to never experience again.
"They're d-dirty."
Dante gazed at her, unconvicned.
"They-they... aren't c-clean."
Bull. Shit.
Was she running from someone? The cops had a warrant for her arrest and she needed to stay incognito? According to his standards, hospitals are the mecca of cleanliness. Unless a documentary revealed situations counter-effective to their sanitary habits and she caught wind of it.
"Do you have somewhere I can take you, 'cause the hospital looks pretty certain." Dante failed to relax the eyebrow muscles on his face from her earlier belief that the clinics are unclean.
"My-my h-house."
The thought of ever inviting a stranger to her place would have made her explode into a fit of giggles, growing into a cesspool of taunting dance moves to invite a man over willingly. Her dominion lived untainted by the male touch, as a show of confidence that she suited to prosper as an independent woman devoid of her mother's influence. And just how did he find and rescue her from trouble in a related fashion to Friday?
He reached over to his dashboard and turned on the heat, the warm air increasing in volume to knock the cold off, or it tried to. Frosted chills clung to her body, striving to keep her in the crisp environment; unwilling to let her thaw. At least her left hand felt some semblance of returning to normal. It's too bad she couldn't explore the texture of his hand─those enormous clunkers.
"Good. Where is it?"
"Paradise Plaz-Plaza."
Dante nodded once. He grew familiar with the area where she lived; kind of upscale neighborhood. A bit hard to imagine her living over there if she worked as a cashier, though. He heard about the monthly rent reaching over a grand a month to live in that domain.
How did she come up with the money for her lease and pay her utilities, unless she had a roommate? He didn't mean to pry, but that sector of the city required higher-paying jobs to sustain adequate residence.
"You have a roommate you can call?"
Her head shook, but Dante didn't know if it was the fault of the cold or if she meant it. After seeing the confusion on his face she stuttered out the word.
"Family that lives near here?"
"N-no."
"Boyfriend?"
"No-nope."
Ooh la la. Oh wait. That endured a bad thing since she had no one to support her when trouble arose. And a wee bit suspicious, though common, to be isolated from people. By choice or by crisis, he would delve into her background once she healed and gathered her wits about her.
"Well, let's get you home." He moved his hands away from her but she tightened her grip, Dante interpreting the move to stay there but her injuries needed attention.
"My-my pur...pus-"
"Your... perfume?" It amazed him often how many women attached themselves to material possessions when an emergency came about. The most trivial things they can operate without are the things they cling to most.
"My pup... pus-p...p─"
"Your puppy?" Well that wasn't as materialistic as an inanimate object. It lived and breathed and made noise and pissed everywhere, and the attachment to a puppy was reasonable. But why would she have her pup out here at this time of night? If the four-legged critter ran away or hid somewhere he can't look for it right now.
Furthermore, what is she doing traipsing over here if she stayed twenty minutes the other way? Not that she couldn't, it's just her being out here all alone with no one by her side raised dubious curiosity.
Oh man, women and their possessions. Just like cats and their ball of yarn; they go crazy if they can't find...
Oh, is that what she tried to say? He speculated her wanting her escaped perfume or her lost pooch because of the inability to speak properly. Instead she kept making this "purr" sound and kept saying "puss" so she talked about her her kitty cat. Still, why in the hell did she bring her pet with her? Did someone baby-sit it? Maybe even take it out for a walk─which made little sense.
"Oh, you meant your pussy?"
Though damn near frozen from the inside out she managed to give a look of confusion, eyebrows crinkling and eyes enlarging to glare in skepticism, and dare he say fright.
"As... in your cat?"
"My purse."
Oh, that's what she meant! "Oh! Oh-oh that... that. Yeah. Your purse!" He peered into her eyes, caught in mild embarrassment on the two radically different levels of thought.. Whoops.
"And where is your purse hiding out?" He patted her hand once in understanding, a bit eager to move away to let his shame dissipate.
A little more wary of his actions, her left hand moved to point somewhere in the street. He followed in the general direction, looking all around him for the mobile locker. In a diagonal line away from his vehicle blossomed a monochromatic object flashing the vivid luminescence of the light, Dante running to retrieve the thing before trouble announced itself.
And speaking thus, why didn't anyone come outside to see the commotion? As loud as this woman busted her lungs, nobody bothered to take a peek at the action? Shit, if they didn't want to involve themselves in the debacle, spectators would have peeked through the curtains. It felt like a damn ghost town.
Retrieving the purse a rush of wind blew by him, carrying the smell of permafrost and blood. The woman had a decent amount of it on her lower legs yet this one pushed strong and stale. Pulling out Ivory he ventured nearer to the scent's origin, feet nimble and steady in case any back-up arrived.
"Ah hell." The cashier should count her blessings from this day forward, or thank her ability to scream loudly. She stood the chance to be in the place of this poor bastard on the ground.
It reminded him of chunky, clumped-up sand. The frozen breath from the creature's mouth made the frost-covered chunks sparkle in the night, as if a cloud of glitter sprinkled their glimmering essence over the pieces. Lumps of clothing still remained in a unique pattern, Dante able to tell that a male once lived and breathed in that spot.
Why did this person die and she didn't? Did this man try to rescue her and he paid the price? And more importantly, did she know him on an intimate level? The shattered puzzle piece relayed the notion that he wore only boxers; underclothes he may have trailed after her in?
Sighing in mental frustration at a bigger problem increasing towards a catastrophe he turned around, thinking he'd be forced into these streets prior to having a say about Vergil. It would be nice if the nearby residents came and took Vergil with them, but he guessed it wouldn't be fair if the elder twin couldn't defend himself.
It existed as Vergil's fault for not defending himself however.
Walking over to the passenger's side he opened the door and dove in, intending on moving her into the correct seat since the concept of mobility left her.
"I gotta move you over here so we can scramble." As before, he didn't wait on her permission to budge, hooking an arm behind her back and under her legs, scooting her over. She attempted to suppress the pain, but the desperate whimper revealed her sore disposition.
After closing the door he slid across the hood of his machine, entering the transportation with relative ease. Driving off into the street enabled many questions to pollute his psyche. The safety, cleaning and interrogation of the girl lingered a constant, followed by the ice-troll, and the jigsaw lying broken on the ground. There wasn't a single thing he could do. Should no one call in the disturbance, since nobody seemed well enough to be onlookers, perhaps he might return here and investigate what transpired.
To catch a break in this profession never lasted long, even when the other devil hunters had time to themselves something came along and drew them back into the line of fire. He just hoped, for the girl's sake, she had no connection to Vergil and his shenanigans. Otherwise his problems were doomed to solve themselves by means of a bloody ending.

A/N:Dante, you are wearing regular clothes.
Dante and Lady shares this special kind of relationship where I think one knows the other's moves when they try and hide something. So Dante can't hide stuff from her for long and vice versa. Off to another chapter I go...
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The Chosen One Unknown