Devil May Cry - Volume 1 - Chapter 2.3

Phase 2.3

“Mommy. Mommy... Hey, Mommy!” 
The young child shook the body of his fallen mother, but she already breathed her last. The boy didn't understand. “Mommy!” 
A warm pool of blood spread out from her motionless body. 
The boy cried hysterically. Tears and snot flowed down his face and his silver hair fluttered as he shuddered. “Mom!” 
Tony opened his eyes. 
He was in a strange bed. His clothes were neatly stacked beside the pillow. His massive sword leaned against the foot of the bed. He had no idea where he was. 
A woman's voice spoke softly. “The rumors were true, then. What a surprise.” 
Tony rolled his head to the right and saw a familiar figure lying beside him. She was smoking a long cigarette. The scent of menthol soothed him. 
“Claire told me about it,” the woman continued. “But I couldn't be sure until I'd seen it for myself.” 
The woman was the receptionist at a pool hall that Tony often visited. He recognized her soft face but couldn't remember her name. Why are we in bed together? Tony had never been interested in her. While attractive in her own way, she just wasn't his type. 
The woman exhaled a stream of smoke. “I thought I'd picked up something good. I'm disappointed you turned out to be a momma's boy.” 
“What are you talking about? Where am I?” Tony felt jarred by his nightmare. He was numb and disoriented, but refused to let any emotions show on his face. 
“This is my room,” the woman said. “You must know it. Second floor of the shop.” 
“Why would I know that?” 
Tony waved away the smoke, annoyed now. He stood up and paced the room. The warrior was stark naked, aside from a large half-globe amulet hanging from his neck. 
He crossed to the window and pulled back a dirty curtain. It was still dark outside. 
“What time is it?” he demanded. 
“Don't take that tone with me, momma's boy.” 
The woman blew out another stream of smoke, taking in Tony's firm backside. “You should thank me for picking you up!” 
“Stop calling me that!” 
“Well, it's the truth, isn't it? You get to spend the night with a beautiful woman, but all you can manage is 'Mommy' this and 'Mommy' that. You're an idiot.” 
“It's none of your business,” Tony snapped. He turned his back on her again. 
But the woman had clearly gotten to him. Tony didn't find women distasteful. In fact, there were dozens of girls he had his eye on in this town alone. But he never dated for any significant length of time. 
Tony absent-mindedly fiddled with his amulet. His mother had given it to him just before her untimely death. It was his only memento of her. 
“What a waste.” The woman moaned. “I find you passed out on the side of the road and drag you back here, and you won't even let me have some fun.” 
“Picked me up? What do you mean?” 
The question sparked something in Tony, and he suddenly realized he was missing entire chucks of memory about the previous night. He recalled fighting Denvers shortly after winning the drinking match with Gilver, but his memory went dark after that. Bobby's vodka must have been stronger than he'd thought. “I'm lucky to have escaped unscathed,” he muttered. But the woman overhead him. 
“It's not like you did much! I dragged you all the way here from a gutter. It was hard work!” 
“Sorry, sorry.” He raised a hand to placate the woman. “Thank you.” 
He had no fear against human enemies, but the creatures he fought last night were another story. Tony wasn't sure he would triumph over them in other circumstances. 
His mother's death played out behind his eyelids again. It was one of the prime reasons he had chosen the dangerous path of a mercenary honing his body and mind. 
Tony suddenly became aware that the woman's lips were moving. 
“Hey!” She didn't look pleased. “Pay attention when people are talking to you!” 
Tony knew the situation could get ugly if the woman realized he didn't know her name. 
“No, really, thank you. If it wasn't for you, I would've caught a cold.” Tony liked to think he was as artful at gender politics as he was at shooting. But in fact, he knew he was terrible at the subtle diplomacy required with women. Tony caught sight of his clothes and decided to change the subject. 
“Thanks for washing my clothes.” He examined the garments and noticed that traces of blood remained visible. “You're a real lifesaver. I can't walk home naked!” 
Tony started to get dressed, but the woman leapt behind him and launched into a bear hug. Her strength surprised him. “Hey, can't I get dressed?” 
 
“I went through a lot of effort to get you here. You're just going to leave without thanking me?” 
“I already said thank you.” 
“Don't embarrass me,” the woman shrieked. 
Tony suppressed a sigh. 
To reiterate, he didn't find women distasteful. 
Tony had no trouble seducing women with whispered words of adoration. But unless he was betting on a particular filly, he was disinterested in the race. Moreover, he disliked people as demanding as his rescuer, no matter their looks. 
“I'm sorry. I wouldn't be my best. I drank myself silly last night.” 

Tony broke free of the woman's grasp and quickly threw his clothes on. He rolled his coat into a ball under one arm and grabbed his sword. 
The woman began vomiting out a string of abuse. “You ungrateful bastard! How dare you treat me like this? Get out of here! I don't care what happens to you anymore! You can rot on the street for all I care!” 
The lines were always the same. He could easily guess what was coming next. 
“This whole town is going to know you call for your mommy in your sleep! You'll be ashamed to show your face in public!” 
Predictable. These women are all the same. A little variety wouldn't kill them. 
Tony shrugged his shoulders and left the room without saying a word. 
The curses degenerated into sobs and eventually petered out as he got to the street. The woman's neighbors peered through their windows to see what the disturbance was all about. 
Tony knew that the gossip mill would be in full force in a few hours, no matter what the woman said. But he didn't care. 
He set off toward his place as the sun peeked over the surrounding buildings. He tried to grasp at snatches of his memory. 
The only things firm in his mind were Denvers' animated corpse and his dead mother's face. 
 
“Tony, I heard that you made Kerry cry.” 
Tony knew he'd hear questions as soon as he ventured back into Bobby's Cellar. He had slept the day away, crawling out of bed shortly before dusk and setting off for his favorite watering hole. 
The mercenaries turned in unison to hear Tony's response. 
“Tell us more,” urged a mercenary named Ecole. He was a small and mousy man who was past his prime as a fighter. But his deep knowledge of the law made him useful in the underworld. Ecole also traded on gossip; dirt on Tony was worth something. 
“Back in my day, I was quite popular with the ladies,” Ecole continued. “I could never have given a beautiful doll like Kerry the cold shoulder.” 
“I don't give a crap,” Tony said flatly. 
“That's no good, Tony!” Ecole pushed a chair toward his subject and gestured for Tony to sit. “Okay, you're taking the night off and we're going to talk about women.” He offered a cask of rum to Tony, who held his head in his hands. “As long as I've got this we can talk until dawn!” 
“Stop it!” Tony brushed him off angrily. The other mercenaries were doubled over with laughter, but Tony didn't care. “I came here to look for work. I've got a loan to pay off. I just wrecked my favorite boots and a jacket that's worth more than any of you are. And I've got to cough up the cash for some new guns.” 
“A new coat? That's just like you.” 
Tony smiled at the interruption. Grue strode forward, his face grim. 
“What's the matter, Grue?” Tony was grateful at the chance to escape from Ecole's inquisition. 
“Denvers' body has turned up, and his friends aren't happy.” 
Tony stared blankly. There would be no mistaking that corpse, missing head or no. 
“He was wearing your coat,” Grue said pointedly. “He was cut in half.” The words rang out through the bar as the mercenaries soaked up the information. Scarcely a second passed before the whispers erupted. 
“Did he kill him?” 
“That Mad Dog bastard.” 
“Hey, hey. Even with all that backup of his?” 
“So the Oz Club is gunning for me.” A hush fell over Bobby's Cellar at the sound of Tony's voice. 
The Oz Club was comprised of former underworld members. They paid a fee to participate in human hunting expeditions to avenge other members' deaths. The first person to produce the target's head would claim the full reward. Membership in the Oz Club was the only reason “Mad Dog” Denvers had lived so long. Tony had deliberately spared him on ninety-nine previous occasions to avoid the club's wrath. 
“That's right,” affirmed Grue. “They're probably on their way here now. I'm not sure you even want to know the price on your head. Lots of people will be after a jackpot that large.” 
Pretty much everyone in the underworld held a grudge against Tony, so the club wouldn't have any problems gathering participants for the hunt. They usually attacked without warning, and negotiation was impossible. He would never be able to counter the price on his head, whatever its size. 
Tony mentally kicked himself for forgetting about Denvers' backup. He knew nobody would believe him if he claimed that Denvers had already been dead when e decapitated the corpse. 

“I don't know what happened,” Grue said. “But you should lay low for a while.” Grue wasn't just worried about Tony; anybody around him would be pulled into the hunt. He had to put some distance between his friend and himself, for his daughters' sake. 

“I know.” Tony sighed. “I'll go take a nap somewhere until the heat dies down.” 
“That's for the best. It's too bad about your debt, though.” 
The bar was silent as the crowd took in Tony's situation. Everyone knew they could be drawn into the hunt just by being in the same room. Half of the mercenaries were worried about a surprise strike on Bobby's Cellar. The other half were contemplating taking out Tony themselves and claiming the prize. 
“What a mess.” Tony shrugged and headed toward the door. 
Grue chewed on his lip as his friend moved away. His shoulders slumped in resignation and he jogged after Tony. “If you don't have anywhere to go, you can hide at my place,” he whispered. “I can shelter you in the underground storeroom.” 
Tony put a hand on Grue's shoulder. “Thanks, but I'll pass. Hiding in a corner isn't my style.” He turned to leave and found himself face to face with Gilver. 
The stranger appeared the worse for wear even under his bandages, as if the previous night's alcoholic combat had drained his vitality. 
Tony leaned in close. “Hey, newbie. That work I was going to take... it's yours if you want it.” 
Gilver cocked his head in surprise. 
“Don't worry. Think of it as an apology for last night.” 
But most of the people there knew it wasn't an apology. Tony only took pricey jobs, which in turn meant risky jobs. Such assignments were in no way a favor to Gilver. 
Tony waved to the assembled crowd. “Later, everyone. After this blows over, treat me to a drink, yeah?” 
He darted out of Bobby's Cellar and disappeared. 
Gilver watched Tony go with a strange, contemplative look in his eyes.