Devil May Cry - Volume 1 - Chapter 4.1

Phase 4.1

Softly but surely, fear grips the population. 

No one knows of Grue's horrific death in the underground mall or Tony's adventure beneath the sanatorium, but stories of malevolent shadows start to spread all the same. 

An increasing number of people quicken their pace as evening falls, each of them aware of the darkness blotting out the stars, and the unspoken presence in the shadows. No one knows what is happening, but everyone can sense something strange. 

Fear leads inexorably to rumor. 

Rumor feeds on fear, coalescing into a wave of terrified speculation. 

“All the people who get involved with Tony meet with a sticky end.” 

No one could say for certain where this latest rumor had originated. But the story fanned fears throughout the underworld, gaining credibility as mercenaries swapped embroidered tales of Tony's past exploits. It wasn't long before every dive with one foot on the wrong side of the law was rife with gossip about him. 

Bobby's Cellar was no exception. 

“Our Tony, huh?” 

“Ever notice how that scab Grue just disappeared? I heard he got involved with Tony and that was that.” 

“You know they never found a single body in that hospital fire.” 

“That place had been hacked apart. The cops said the cuts matched his sword exactly.” 

“Now that you mention it, Mad Dog Denvers disappeared after he got mixed up with Tony.” 

“Remember Kerry? After Tony dumped her, she slit open her wrists.” 

Underworld types were a cowardly, superstitious lot. If something sinister was on the wind, it had to reek of Tony. Every mercenary in every bar in the city agreed. 
 
“Well, that's how it is, Tony. I don't personally have anything against you, but...” 

“Don't worry about it, Bobby. It's only natural that the other guys are going to be superstitious. Nothing we can do about it.” 

Tony had just arrived and was talking to Bobby at the entrance to the bar. The sun set and there was a merry feeling flowing out from Bobby's Cellar. But the proprietor had spotted Tony just before he had come through the door and hurried out to meet him. 

“It's more than just the rumors. Gilver's reputation as a cutthroat just keeps growing. All the old troublemakers throw their weight around thanks to him. I'm mopping up blood every day now.” Bobby's sickly pallor reflected his fatigue. “They think you're a coward, Tony. You walk in there, someone's gonna pick a fight with you.” 

“Bobby, you got the wrong idea. All I want is a strawberry sundae. I haven't had one for a while.” Tony waved brusquely and set off down the alley. His stomach gurgled with hunger.

He had used up most of his savings opening bank accounts for Grue's two remaining daughters. The rest had been spent replacing his beloved red coat. But the rumors had been taking their toll. Night after night, the agents and middlemen passed him for work. Now his walled was as empty as his stomach. 

Tony set off toward Goldstein's place. She always had time for him, even if she didn't like to show it. 

The rumbling of his stomach was a pathetic soundtrack scoring his journey. 
 
Gilver passed Tony on his way to the Cellar. 

He radiated vitality and health, despite the bandages that covered his face. Gilver had become such a fixture in the local underworld scene that the mercenaries scarcely noticed the rags anymore. He swept into the bar with an elegant confidence. 

“Everyone's here?” As ever, he was a man of few words. 

The men gathered responded enthusiastically. 

“This is almost all of us.” 

The usual mercenaries and middlemen were clustered around Gilver, who had smoothly taken the reins as the Cellar's leader. The auction system employed by the absent Enzo had been replaced by a free-for-all grab for any jobs Gilver decided he didn't want. The slender warrior took the lion's share of work, leaving the rest of the mercenaries to fight over the scraps.

“Tonight I have prepared a plan.” 

A buzz broke out among the crowd. Gilver rarely spoke more than was necessary. He gestured for the lights to be dimmed and then surveyed his audience. 

“Gentleman, if you have a god to pray to, pray to him now. If you have a god to implore, implore him now., From now on, this will be your grave and become a world for us who are not human,” Gilver said calmly and quietly. 

A hush fell over the Cellar. 

“I don't have any grudges against you gentlemen. But unfortunately, you are acquainted with Tony Redgrave.” Gilver stabbed his sword into the floor. As if by design, the Cellar split open. Cracks raced along the walls and ceiling, bleeding an unearthly light. The mercenaries glanced around in wonder, confused. 

Demons poured out of the cracks and immediately threw themselves on the crowd. It only took a moment for instinct to kick in. 

“Run!” 

“Don't come any closer!” 

“No!” 

In ordinary circumstances, the men would have fought to the death. But each was overrun with a primordial fear that quickly gave way to blind panic. The warriors found themselves rooted to the spot, just as Grue had been twice before.
 
Those who still had eyes noticed something unusual about Gilver. The demons avoided him in favor of the other mercenaries. The levitated over the crowd, gazing down over the scene with a contemptuous gaze. 

“You all have jobs tonight.” Gilver's voice took on an unnatural quality that boomed through the Cellar. “You will fuse with my brothers. I will need many pawns to deal with the man who calls himself Tony. You will play an important role – “ 

A gunshot rang out. It was all the impetus the mercenaries needed to break free of their fear. The surviving men whipped out their weapons and converged on Gilver. 

The effort was fruitless. The demons renewed their attack, dining on the survivors. 

“You have good spirit,” Gilver said. “That strength will make you excellent demon hosts.” 

The mercenaries raged futilely against the demon horde. Gunshots and battle cries turned into terrified screams as the shadowy hosts overcame the thugs, until finally the Cellar was silent. 

Gilver's sword hummed with dark energy. “What delicious despair. I can feel myself swelling with power.” The bandaged man radiated an aura of decay. 

One by one, the fallen mercenaries rose and stood at attention. The animated corpses punched their fists in the air and howled a familiar cry. 

“Good. We have replaced the pieces we lost at the underground mall.” Gilver smiled behind his rags. “Now we can play.” 
 
“This sandwich is disgusting! My tongue is trying to jump out of my mouth.” 

“You want to sponge off me and complain about it at the same time? Shut your pie-hole. If the food's not good enough, you can leave your money on the table and take a hike!” 

Tony and Goldstein had the routine down to an art. They both knew he would keep chomping on the sandwich anyway, grateful for a bite to eat. And she wouldn't kick him out, no matter how loudly he moaned. 

“This isn't a cafeteria. Have you been barred from Bobby's Cellar again?” 

“I'll say this for your own sake.” Tony wagged a finger disapprovingly. “You won't live much longer eating such cheap bread and bad ham. That would end in tragedy, so I'm gonna take care of it for you. You should be thanking me.” 

The repartee heated up as Tony lined his stomach, his charm pushing forward as hi hunger dissolved. He washed down the last of the sandwich with a slosh of coffee and broke into a huge smile. 

“This has practically been the worst night ever. Nothing in the bank and I've got to have dinner with a lady so old she was tattooed by da Vinci.” 

“That's enough of that.” Goldstein removed her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. She had been working on something when Tony came in – he'd seen it hiding beneath a flap of crimson felt as he walked into the shop. It looked too large to be a gun. 

“I've heard you've been getting a bad rap recently. What's that all about?” she asked. “Bobby said you started that hospital fire?” 

“That rumor made its way all the way here? It's true. Long story short, stuff happened.” 

“That's why you lost those guns I put all my heart and soul into making for you?” 

Embarrassment crept across Tony's face. “I'm really sorry about that. My body got so heavy that I just dropped anything that was weighing me down.” 

“So why were you there? A girl?” 

“Oh, come on!” Tony snapped. He didn't want to talk about Jessica. 

“Don't worry about the rumors. They always run their course in the end. Anyway, you've been pushing yourself too hard lately.” Goldstein gazed Tony with steely eyes. “There's something else I meant to talk to you about. That bandaged man, Gilver. He's dangerous.” 

“Is that so?” 

“I've seen his shadow – I don't think he's human.” 

“Even if that's true, I don't mind. As far as partners go, he's the best.” Tony wondered if the old woman had any booze she might be willing to share. “More importantly, about my next guns...” 

“Ugh.” Goldstein threw up her hands in disgust. “I'm through with you. Why should I be making weapons for a cold-hearted guy who drops the product of my blood, sweat and tears into a fire?” 

“You're breaking my heart.” 

“You asked for it. Now let me get back to my work.” Goldstein slipped a monocle over one eye and turned back to her desk. 

The curt dismissal intrigued Tony. “Whatcha working on now, old lady?” 

“Nothing to do with cold-hearted people. Go on, get out of here.” 

Tony was dying to know what was under the cloth, but he knew he wouldn't be able to badger anything out of Goldstein. “It's okay. You'll tell me eventually. I'll be back later. Take care of yourself.” 

Tony stood up and adjusted his jacket. A moment later he was gone. 

Goldstein puzzled away with her work in silence. Neither could sense the disaster drawing ever closer to the shop.