Devil May Cry - Volume 1 - Chapter 1.4

Phase 1.4

Moonlight stabbed through the night sky, illuminating a line of cars that crept along a mountain road. 
A herd of trucks cocooned a chunky sedan, offering protection to the passenger hidden behind black windows. Thick shadows huddled together in the exposed truck beds. 
“I'm cold,” Tony moaned pathetically. He exhaled experimentally, glaring at the fog of breath as if to prove his point. He and Grue were hunkered down on the bed of the final vehicle in the caravan. 
“Tough it out,” said Grue. “You're not the only one who feels that way.” 
“Geez!” Tony moved closer to Grue for warmth. “All this effort just to make Enzo look good. You ever feel like you're being used?” 
None of the other mercenaries rode with Tony and Grue because, well, they didn't want to die. The rear was always the most dangerous part of a caravan. The chill night air whipped at the two men, who pressed together to feed off eachother's body heat. 
“Shut up, Tony. If you didn't come with me, Enzo could kiss his reputation as a broker goodbye. And if he can't bring us work, we're the ones who lose out.” 
They had met Fondo Brown shortly after leaving Bobby's Cellar. A majordomo had handed them fifty thousand dollars in small stamps before bustling them onto the back of the truck. The little man squeezed Tony's hand and pleaded with real tears for him to deliver Brown safely. It was the first time Tony had been hired by a crier. 
“I'm surprised Brown didn't remember me,” Tony said. “I was expecting a trap. Revenge. I didn't think we'd see waterworks from a grown man.” 
“Maybe it would make sense if we knew the whole story.” Suddenly, Grue narrowed his eyes. “If I'm not mistaken, that town is controlled by the Easterners.” He indicated a sparkling hill alongside a vast harbor. The caravan was headed straight to the city. 
“So they say.” Tony sat up, intrigued “These idiots are going to cut through rival territory to get to the harbor faster.” 
It wasn't tremendous as far as getaway plans were concerned. Brown doubtless had a price on his head big enough for a bounty hunter to retire on, and here they 
were escorting him through a city packed with people ready to cash in. 
“How do you want to handle this, Tony?” 
“We've got the deposit.” Tony patted the stamps. “Let's do fifty thousand dollars' worth of work and then get the hell out of here.” 
Grue grinned. “I agree.” 
“We'll sneak out just before the fighting beats up.” Tony was warming to the idea. “I'm not packing much anyway. Just this.” He unsheathed the mammoth sword that was never far from his side. The beloved weapon was fine for threats like Denvers, but the Easterners were something else entirely. 
Grue stroked the sword for a moment before whipping open his vest. “I've got the Python and six spare cartridges. Between the two of us, we should be able to conserve heat. The caravan crested a wooded hill and began the final approach toward the city. 
Suddenly, the truck lurched. Tony regained his balance and scanned the line of vehicles. A hundred mercenaries blockaded the road, sending the drivers into a panic. A second militia emerged from the bushes to attack both flanks. Brown either had a mole on the inside or some canny adversaries. Either way, his escort was unlikely to offer much protection. 
“These guys know what they're doing.” 
“Tony and Grue sauntered to the edge of the flatbed, peering around the side of the cab at the melee absorbing the front of the caravan. 
“What do you think?” 
“Fifty thousand dollars' worth of work,” Grue reminded. He pulled out the Python and leapt softly onto the pavement. The road was dark aside from the moonlight; they'd have to be careful not to kill each other in the chaos. 
“I'm gonna carve my way to Brown,” Tony said. “You got my back?” 
“Sure. I've only got the six cartridges. Make it quick.” 
“It won't take more than a moment. Be right back!” 
Grue lobbed a warning shot at the nearest cadre to open a path for Tony, who spun his blade like a windmill. 
“Out of my way!” Tony howled. “Do you want to die?” Nobody ever actually answered that question, but Tony felt it made him seem more imposing. He batted aside the few mercenaries who crossed his path with the flat edge of his sword. “Don't make me use the pointy end!” 
“Tony whacked a mercenary in the stomach and was rewarded with a spray of gastric fluid. Another volley from the Python cleared the next few yards. Tony sprinted toward the sedan that sheltered Brown. 
Something was wrong. 
Tony looked around, weapon raised. He was surrounded. But the mercenaries weren't in combat 
stances. Instead, they stood silently, awed by the trail of battered but otherwise unharmed bodies left in Tony's wake. He sauntered over to the nearest thug and looked him up and down. “Did you really wet your pants, or is that just a stain?” 
Tony spun around at the sound of a raspy battle cry. “All right, boys!” Brown said to Tony and Grue, his head poking through his car's moon roof. “These bastards aren't so tough after all. Open up!” He had a machine gun in one hand and a bullhorn in the other. 
How cliché. Tony made his way back to Grue as the hillside erupted into gunfire. “This is our chance!” 
“I know! Let's get out of here!” Grue grabbed Tony by the hand, pulling him toward the tangle of undergrowth at the side of the road. The two men tromped through the muddy battlefield and vanished into the night. 
 
The last of the smoke cleared an hour later. 
Brown's men had launched a blistering counter¬attack in the lull created by Tony's show of force. But in the end, numbers won out. Brown's lifeless body was one of dozens strewn across the asphalt, his blood mingling with that of his enemies. 
He clutched a pair of spent machine guns but seemed to have misplaced his head. 
Tony surveyed the scene coolly. “What a pitiful sight. I'll never get used to this part.” He pointed at the grisly stump between Brown's shoulders. “You only need the head to claim the reward. What a cruel world.” 
“We're in no position to judge,” said Grue. “But anyway, here we are.” The two men had retreated to the safety of a nearby ridge and waited for the battle to wind down. Both were happy to be considered cowards if only money was at stake. Abandoning a job under overwhelming odds was the mercenary way. 
“Now we know why Brown set aside old grudges and came to you,” Grue muttered. “He must have been desperate.” 
2I don't want to hear that crap,” Tony spat out. But Grue knew he was lying. 

Tony was one of a rare breed among mercenaries, willing to deal out death, but lamenting that it was necessary. He especially hated other mercenaries discovering this emotional side to him. It was this aspect that attracted Grue to Tony in the first place. He liked working with someone who showed glimpses of a philosophical streak from time to time. 
And then it happened. 
One of the corpses rose to its feet. It was definitely a corpse. Its head was burst open like a pomegranate and its left arm was missing entirely. Even so, the body moved fluidly, like a dancer. 
“Tony.” Grue had seen too much in his years as a mercenary to be fazed by the horrors encountered on 
his missions. But now he was quivering, barely able to mouth his friend's name. “Tony!” 
But it was too late. The corpse silently sprang into the air, lunging toward Tony with its remaining arm outstretched. The thing had grown inhuman talons. Tony had his back to the creature. His sword was still sheathed. Grue looked on with wide eyes, rooted to the spot. 
“Like I'd lose my head to anything chicken enough to attack me from behind.” Tony scoffed. He seized the corpse by the arm, spinning it around. “You're all the same. Watch a horror movie and get some tips. Geez!” Tony balled his fist and plunged it into what remained of the thing's face. He pounded again and again, landing a blistering series of blows that would have shattered solid oak. 
Tony's fist sped into a blur, beating out a sickening tattoo. Eventually he broke through the beast's jaw with an uppercut that sent its head snapping back. But Tony still had his vice-like grip on the corpse's arm. He pulled the body back like a punching bag and bent it over his knee. A series of pops told Grue that Tony had snapped the creature's spine. Tony threw the corpse to the ground and sank a heavy boot deep into the remains of its head. 
This is probably the first time in human history someone axe-kicked a corpse, Tony thought. 
A brittle wheeze escaped the body's mouth. Tony still held the thing's arm, which was no longer attached to its body. The thing's skull was crushed beyond 
recognition. A steady flow of blood streamed down its ruined face like the tears of a wailing man. 
“All of my enemies end up crying and begging for forgiveness,” Tony said. “Even if they are devils.” A cool smile drifted across his face. 
Grue suddenly realized he had been frozen in shock the entire time. 
Tony whipped out a pair of crude, bootlegged Berettas and began spitting out fire. He pulled the triggers at inhuman speed, loosening dozens of bullets into the corpse until at last his chambers were empty. The monstrosity was now nothing more than a pile of raw meat. 
Grue stared, mouth agape. But only Tony could see the beast's soul slip out of the bloody pulp and into the night sky with an inaudible howl. 
Tony holstered the guns, which had become so hot they were smoking. He smirked. “Jackpot.” 
Suddenly, Grue yelped out a warning. “Behind you!” 
Tony spun around. All around the flaming wreckage, corpses were rising from the pavement. Hundreds of thugs, each killed in the battle between Brown and his attackers. The ghastly creatures now appeared united in one thing – their hatred for Tony. They began making their way to the silver-haired warrior, their hollow eye sockets harboring sinister red glows that were trained on Tony like lasers. 
Tony responded the only way he knew how. “Come on, then!” He beckoned them with his right hand, a defiant grin etched on his face. 

Grue remained frozen in place. The world had stopped making sense. But Tony seemed to thrive in this surreal environment. A dark passion blazed in Tony, the likes of which few besides Grue had ever seen. 
“Bring it on!” Tony cackled maniacally. “I'll send each and every one of you back to hell!” He plunged his sword into the road in front of him and crossed the Beretta clones over his chest. It was the perfect pose. The calm before the storm. 
The first of the corpses stepped closer and Tony widened his grin. 
 
A familiar voice pulled Grue out of his stupor. 
“Grue! It's all over.” 
How much time has passed? Grue wondered. 
“I wasn't sure if you were still alive, Grue. I was just gonna leave you here if you had croaked.” 
Sensation washed over Grue – his sight and hearing rushed back to normal levels. His muscles felt stiff as stones. “Don't be so dramatic. Do you really think I'd be silly enough to die and leave my daughters behind?” 
Grue knocked back Tony's outstretched hand and rose to his feet. His heart was still pounding. Cold sweat drenched his armpits and back. But his pride forced him to teeter on his own two feet. 
He looked at Tony out of the corner of his eye. “Did I have a bad dream or something? What the hell was that?” 
“Who knows?” said Tony, waving a hand dismissively. “I'm not into the occult. If you want to know, ask a priest.” 
Tony's nonchalance stamped the last vestiges of shock out of Grue's system. He knew that Tony was unbeatable. A flawless partner. As long as he stuck with Tony, everything would be okay. 
“Come on, let's go home. Jessica's probably waiting for you.” 
“Yeah, she's probably got dinner ready.” Grue smiled with anticipation. “You want to come?” 
“Sounds good. Has your little girl already learned to cook?” 
“Don't be stupid. Jessica's already fifteen. She cooks better than all the restaurants in the neighborhood...” Grue trailed off, staring at Tony's feet. 
“What are you looking at? I don't need that kind of attention from men.” Tony narrowed his eyes jokingly. 
“Shut up. It's your boots.” 
“What, these? They're nice, huh? Custom ordered.” Tony glanced down at his feet. “My boots!” 
“Yeah, they're no good anymore.” 
Tony was crestfallen. The once-sturdy boots were now stained with blood. One of the heels was missing; no doubt a victim of his spectacular axe kick. “This sucks!” he wailed. “I just took out a loan, too!” 
“It's okay. You'll just have to take the next job offer that comes along,” Grue said. 
“Damn. And just when I finally got a date with Claire. Do you know how many months it took me to get her to agree? 
“Looks like you'll have to wait a little longer before you cash in those stamps.” Grue slapped Tony on the back. His hearty laughter pushed the nightmarish scene he had witnessed out of his mind.