Devil May Cry - Volume 2 - Chapter 1.1

Phase 1 
Part 1 

Some things cannot be seen even under the burning eye of the sun.

Those who know the reality of these things find them while the world is sleeping; these people rise at dusk to live in the night.

They make their way under the artificial lights of the city.

It is another life altogether, always living under a black sky.

There is a shop where these kinds of people congregate.

The name of the shop: Devil May Cry.

"Give me a break, Dante.

You know this isn't the time to be picky, right?" Enzo punctuated each word with an exaggerated gesture.

He was a small, animated man, well known in the underworld.

Judging by his tailored suits, he made a decent living as an informant, presumably by knowing precisely how far to try a man's patience.

"I don't know what you don't like about this job," Enzo continued, "but you haven't been getting decent work recently, right? Here I am, offering you a job even though you're complaining that all the work has dried up.

Don't you know how wonderful I am?" 
"You never let me forget." Dante sighed dispassionately.

He sat on a leather sofa that he'd stolen, and his long legs formed a bridge to a large desk.

"I've only ever taken work that interests me.

That's my policy." 

Dante had pioneered an underground movement the underworld called Devil Hunting.

More and more freelance mercenaries were trying to get in on the action, although none compared to the original.

Dante cut a striking figure with his silver hair and piercing eyes.

Yet he exuded a childish quality that disarmed his enemies and made him approachable to strangers.

Few of those strangers had the stamina to put up with his schtick long enough to become his friends.

"Yeah, I know all about that policy of yours.

But that doesn't mean all you're gonna get is demon work, you know." Enzo rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

"You need to learn to be more flexible, my friend.

Aren't you behind in your rent?" 
"I appreciate the offer, but really..." 
"What does that mean?’But really'." 
Enzo plopped on a nearby stool in a huff.

Dante could be infuriating, but he was still the best in the business.

Enzo scanned the room.

None of the furniture or accessories matched.

Strange antiques jostled up against a huge billiard table and modern lamps.

Plush toy animal heads were mounted on the wall like hunting trophies.

"Your shop is so weird." 

He hopped off the stool and sauntered over to the pool table.

It was only a matter of time until he hit on whatever it was that 
would get Dante on the ball.

"By the way, whatever happened to that beauty? You had a really pretty chick, didn't you?" 
Dante raised an eyebrow but showed no further signs of life.

Enzo lit up inside.

This was the tack to take.

"What was her name again? You know, the girl? Where did she go?" 
"Who knows?" Dante said flatly.

"What a waste.

Hey, did she run away?" 
Dante swung two large pistols toward a large mirror on one wall.

Brandishing weapons always made Enzo shut up, but this time there was an edge behind the act.

His nerves had been slowly fraying over the past several days.

Something was in the air.

Dante had passed the time with the work that Enzo had brought him, but now he knew that his energies had to be focused on whatever was going to happen.

Dante studied his reflection in the mirror, his gaunt face tucked behind two crossed pistols.

The hilt of his beloved sword-he called it Rebellion-peeked over one shoulder.

This was it.

It would start now.

"Hey, Dante!" 
"Wait.

The phone is going to ring." 
An old-fashioned telephone rattled away on his desk.

Dante swiftly lifted the handset to his ear and felt his tension drawing away.

An unmistakable password emanated from the receiver.

"Okay.

I'll take the job." 
Dante broke out into a charming smile and sprung from his chair as though propelled by a gust of wind.

His pistols were back in their holsters, ready for action.

He bolted from the shop.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Enzo toddled after him.

The flustered middleman had never been to the scene of a job, but Enzo wasn't about to let Dante take off without figuring out how to make a dime off it.

"You need a ride, right? I can take you in my car!" 
The two men disappeared into the night, the words "Devil May Cry" flickered ominously in red neon behind them.

It was more than the name of the shop.

It was Dante's nickname.

The name the demons feared.

"So, then.

Where is this job of yours?" Enzo asked cheerfully while gripping the steering wheel.

Dante muttered the name of an old temple that had recently been all over the newspapers.

The structure had mysteriously collapsed, killing several monks and priests.

"Are you kidding?" Enzo took his eyes off the road long enough to give Dante the once-over.

"They say that place was destroyed by demons or something." 
Dante pulled his pistols out and set about disassembling them.

"And now it seems a winged lizard man walks among us.

It's the perfect job for me, don't you think?" 
Dante had rebuilt Ebony and Ivory with his own hands.

The twin guns were originally the product of a skilled gunsmith he'd been close to, but he rarely thought about her now.

Dante himself had modified and improved the weapons until they were virtually an extension of his own being.

The pistols had sent many powerful demons to their end.

"Eyes on the road, Enzo! This is delicate work I'm doing here." Dante finished greasing up the guns and quickly reassembled them.

They were chunky and cartoonish, augmented to avoid overheating under his rapid shooting style.

Cleaning and preparing the weapons felt like meditating to Dante.

The final pieces snapped into place with a satisfying click.

"I'm ready." 
"Almost there," Enzo said.

He plastered a map across the steering wheel and tried to navigate and drive simultaneously.

"Take a look at this.

We're supposed to be on this road here, but I don't understand the map." 
"Here is fine.

Stop the car." 
The car bounced over a pothole and came to a stop.

Dante leapt out of the vehicle.

Enzo pushed his head out the window.

"You really gonna be okay getting off here?" 
"Something's coming!" 
Gunfire roared as Dante squeezed off a volley of rounds in Enzo's direction.

A black shadow collapsed just inches behind the middleman, whose eyes and mouth opened wide with shock.

"You'll be safer heading back to the city," Dante advised.

"Sorry, but it looks like you won't be making a profit tonight." 
Enzo squeaked out an unintelligible response and pulled his head back in the window.

A moment later the car rocketed down the narrow road in reverse.

Dante swung his gaze across the fallen shadow.

"You can't all be small fries.

So, where's the leader?" 
A sepulchral whisper fluttered among the dry leaves scattered across the road.

Dante felt the presence of something inhuman.

The greatest Devil Hunter had found a place for his own battle.

It was a moonless night.

Dante stepped further into the darkness without hesitation, but to his dismay no adversaries appeared.

He casually strolled deeper into the inky black.

Nothing.

No attack.

No movement of any kind.

A kernel of suspicion formed in the back of his mind.

Having fought demons and similar creatures more times than he could remember, there were several things that Dante had come to understand.

Above all, such monsters would always appear in groups.

Small demons never enroached on the human world without support.

The small fry that had threatened Enzo would be part of a larger, more powerful group.

Dante could sense nothing.

He let his mind wander, stretching his senses, moving across the geography around him without the bother of actually relying on his eyes.

The rustle of swaying twigs.

The grains of sand kicked up as he stepped.

The persistent whine of Enzo's retreating car.

But no sign of the preternatural presence Dante had detected earlier.

The area was almost unnaturally quiet.

He suppressed a wave of mild anxiety and furrowed his brow.

Dante dove into the thicket in front of him without warning.

His muscles moved as if of their own accord, compelled by years of instinct.

He dashed through the undergrowth and leapt into a yawing ravine.

A dried-up riverbed snaked through the bottom of the chasm.

Skidding down one of the steep cliffs, Dante pushed against the rocky wall to steady his descent.

Finally, he crashed heavily onto the ground.

The explosions started a moment later.

A rocky rain scrabbled against the riverbed amid peals of thunder that worked their way up the ravine.

Dozens of scarlet eruptions bloomed one after the other.

Dante whipped out his guns and danced around the explosions.

Through the plumes of acrid smoke he could see that the mountain road above him was awash in a sea of fire.

It wasn't a magical attack.

I've never heard of a demon using bombs.

So it must be...Dante ducked and weaved his way through the bombardment.

He briefly considered that he might have stumbled onto a construction site or blast quarry.

But the military helicopter hovering just beyond the flames suggested otherwise.

Why didn't I hear it before? Dante couldn't see through the chopper's darkened canopy, but he knew it hadn't been hijacked by a demon.

Its movement were too precise-what had seemed like a random blitz now revealed itself to be a careful bombing pattern.

A demon would have been much more reckless.

Dante ran a hand through his silver hair.

The bombs aren't falling here.

I'm not their target.

Instead, explosions spiked up and down the mountain road on the cliff above, blasting chunks out of the earth.

Debris crashed into the riverbed, which caught the occasional stray bomb.

At the moment of each explosion, Dante caught a glimpse of shadowy figures leaping from the ground.

The creatures looked like reptilian men-the same kind of low-level demon that had attacked Enzo.

Of course! They're underground.

That's why I could feel them but not see them! 
Most of the beasts died instantly, while others writhed in helpless agony.

A select few lucky demons had escaped the bombings intact and were making their way to the relative protection of the dry riverbed.

Straight toward Dante.

Dante brushed himself off and assumed one of his favorite menacing stances.

It would be easy work to show these creatures why he was known as the greatest Devil Hunter alive.

But the volley of bullets that erupted a moment later didn't issue from Ebony and Ivory.

Dante watched with astonishment as the approaching demons were cut down in a hail of gunfire.

Each falling beast revealed a curious figure behind it.

The men were clad entirely in black coats and masks, and they carried massive rifles.

The squad moved from demon to demon, ruthlessly blowing away any creatures that retreated and slaughtering the wounded.

It didn't take long for one of the men to notice Dante.

He hollered to the others and pointed toward the mercenary.

A moment later, the newcomers had Dante dead in their sights.

Dante counted about thirty men altogether.

Not men, he amended.

The figures emanated a cold, dark aura unique to the Underworld.

The true Underworld.

Although he couldn't see their faces, Dante knew the black uniforms masked demons within.

"Howdy," Dante stepped forward, hands on his pistols.

"Demons fighting demons.

Looks like this job just got a lot more interesting."