Red Nightmares at Midnight

Douglass : She watched as he showed off his scars, in a way she shared his pain. "I told you before, I'm not your doll; and we all have our little scars." She turned around, not wanting to map out the course of his battles by the length, severity, and placement of his scars. Too many years of deducing information by piecing together the fragments, wasn't that all a person was; the fragments of their lives that marked them? Some fragments marked deeper and wider than others, which she knew from experience. "Thanks for the directions," her voice had returned to its 'normal' state; a soft, smooth sound that poured through her lips like thick cream. Turning her back to him, she pulled off her sweatshirt and t-shirt at the same time, leaving only the regular bra topped by a sports bra. There, off center of her back was a giant sunburst, the entirety of the scar covered by an orangey-gold tattooing. It's ends reached just beyond the center of her spin to one end, up to the back of her right shoulder blade then wrapped around almost to her abs, it disappeared deep beyond her pants line, and if she were daring enough to remove them, he'd find that it dripped down her right buttocks and hip, and halfway down her right thigh; but he'd have to wait to discover such mysteries. "And I tried for thirteen years to live a different life… I'll be in the gym." Making her way down the hall to the elevator, she stepped inside and requested Lucy to take her down to the 'Training Room.' Lucille heeded the request with diligence; she was yet programmed to recognize Douglass, but still offered a mechanical form of politeness. The whirls and clicks of her computing sounded off the beginning of the descent, Douglass stood at the back of the elevator, leaning against the back wall with her hip cocked and arms crossed under her chest, top and sweatshirt dangling from one hand. It'd been years since anyone had seen the origin of her tattooing, years since anyone had lain eyes upon that scar; years since she actually thought about when it happened. As the elevator slowed she forced the thoughts from her mind, turning eyes upward, away from the floor and out beyond the elevator door. As they slid back, the gym became flooded with light. Dull light, none-the-less; but what more should be expected. Stepping out, the elevator door slid closed behind her, and the whirling and clicking of Lucille's thoughts sent the contraption ascending back up to the floor above. "Thanks Lucy," she uttered below her breath. Striding forth, she dropped the tops against the wall near the elevator door and began stretching her arms a bit; "Now where to begin? Hmmm…?" Glancing around the room, she eyed, first, the obstacle course; it looked promising. Weights off in the other corner were a definite; shooting range not much of a thrill; if there was one thing Dee didn't need practice with it was operating a firearm. Luckily for Douglass, her uniform boots had become her new fashion trend, there was a large shadow of doubt as to if she would wear much of anything but in the next few months. Walking slowly about the room, she observed the many various pieces of fitness equipment, and needless to say she was slightly impressed. Three minutes of debate finally gave way to a decision; a nice long run on the treadmill. Hopping onto the machine, she eyed the features and functions, power workout on the incline, max level. As the machine began to slowly begin its pace, Douglass followed, brisking her walk as the pace increased. While it was still moving slowly, working on getting up to speed, she pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, letting the sun-bleached locks fall carelessly upon her back. As the pace picked up her legs began to work more, her hands balled into fists and elbows cocked; her arms moved in rhythm with her step. That is what she concentrated on, the rhythm of the step; no other thought would enter her mind, not right now. This was her time, her time to forget for a short time. Finally the treadmill reached a comfortable pace, as it planned off she stared blankly ahead of her letting herself focus on nothing more than the rhythm.



Dante seethed. Just stood in the middle of his kitchen and fumed to almighty God for getting him into yet another mess. With a damnable woman! Sending scathing curses to the tiled ceilings, he slammed shut the fridge once more and stormed to his study, really wishing he could invoke the same treatment on the door, but thanks to his tinkerings, only a sibilant hiss echoed as he passed. Door hinges in his place were a thing of the past. “Damn you to all immortal hell, Jayden McAlister,” he said with considerable less heat, sinking into his chair behind his desk. Irritably flipping a switch, the monitor console to his left shifted to the third floor, providing him with a rather spy-friendly view of the training room. One eye sourly watching Douglass as she went about her exercises, he kicked a foot on the desktop, swearing anew when the phone blared through the relative silence of his private haven. Lucille answered, informing Dante that Captain Harris was on the line. “Put him through, Lucille,” he ordered and the Captain’s beefy voice echoed through the speakers. “You got something against returning phone calls, devil hunter?” the human snorted. Dante smirked; first dig of the spur. “When they interrupt my beauty sleep, fuck yeah,” he retorted, absently gnawing on a fingernail. “What’s the problem, Harris? Need me to head downtown and yank your lieutenant off your dick again?” He grinned at the rage he could just see coloring Harris’ face, that huge vein throbbing in the man’s forehead. No love lost here, not by a long shot. Dante couldn’t stand the man; Harris knew it and didn’t care. Money and usefulness was all that tied the two together. Speaking of… “I dearly hope that other little payday made it into my account, Captain,” Dante said suddenly, voice icy cold. “I’d hate to make you pay in person.” He heard Harris clear his throat nervously. Last time pay was late, Dante had paid the man a visit and threatened to take a body part to sell on the black market. He’d been pissed as all hells; he’d nearly paid for that mission with his life and then the spunk human tried to swindle him out of two-thirds of his payment. Don’t think so. Harris hadn’t missed one since. “It’s in there, Dante. My word.” Dante snorted. “But there is a situation that might require your expertise,” he went on. Dante kept biting at his fingernail. Figured. “Downtown, Lexington Street and First. A random couple was brutally attacked and mauled; their kid missing. Forensics made out several…bite marks on the vics, you might want to head to the morgue and judge for yourself.” Dante slounged down a bit more in his chair. “Standard price?” Harris sighed. “Yeah. Sure, why not?” Dante smirked. “That’s my boy. You’ll figure out how to train your boys to be real cops one day, Harris,” he said with a wicked chuckle and disconnected. “Lucille, inform Miss…Douglass she’s needed upstairs.” Lucille clicked and whirred. “Of course, Dante,” she said, then with a tart tone, replied, “You could be a shade more diplomatic, you know.” Dante flicked a brow ceilingward. “Don’t lecture me, Lucille. I’m in no mood for it.” Lucille clicked at him reprovingly, but did as bid.



Douglass : Lucille's mechanical voice echoed through the training room, but fell upon deaf ears. A blank mind bore foreword into the ever impeding darkness, sounds, sight, smell… all the senses put on hold for a short time. Droplets of perspiration formed upon her brow and along the creases of her abs, well defined for a woman. A little exercise and the six pack popped out as though showing up for the frat party, usually the midriff was kept covered. After the second announcement Dee snapped out of it, eyes darting upward as though ready to view the face of some female android staring down at her. Hitting the stop button she hopped off the treadmill, body slightly glistening from perspiration. "Yeah sure," long strides carried her effortlessly to pick up her tops; using them as a towel she held up a hand to the elevator door as Lucille directed it's opening, "No thanks Lucy, I'll take the stairs." And with that she pushed through the stairwell door and bounded up the steps, skipping one or two each time. Briskly walking down the hall, she glanced around at the hollow doors, wondering just where she was needed. The dim glow of the monitor in Dante's study shined like a beacon, and she set course for that doorway. Stopping just inside the doorjamb, her eyes adjusted to the changing lights, "I was summoned?"



Not waiting for her to take her sweet time getting up the stairs, Dante retreated to his room for a brief moment, changing clothes quickly. Once more donned in the sleek crimson leather which won him many favors from woozy headed females and identified him as the ultimate badass among the male throng, he sauntered from his room, putting the finishing touches on his outfit. Threading and snapping buckles on his black vest, he adjusted the skull on his belt buckle and flicked the tails of his coat behind him, pure reflex that. Spying his houseguest standing in the door to his study, Dante bit back a smirk and refrained from smacking her butt once more with a glove. She’d probably clout him, and that wouldn’t sit too well. But the thought of a hunt stirred his blood; actually put him in somewhat of a good mood. A brow rose at the curious markings on the chit’s back, but he’d ask later, when she wasn’t so keen on removing his tongue with pliers. To her inquiry, he said behind her, brushing past, “The cops called. Seems they want us to pose for porn photos downtown.” His lips twitched at his own mercurial mood change. But he chuckled and pulled on his thick leather gloves. “They got bodies; a suspected demon killing. First lesson, Miss McQue. Get gear and weapons. Pack light, but efficient.” Taking his gunbelt from the rack, he strapped the twin pistols to lithe hips, buckling the buckles behind his thighs. “I’d bring a blade, too.”



Douglass : "Standard, 10-4," she spouted stepping around him, her tone dry and serious. Part way down the hall, she uttered quietly "Necrophilia… my favorite," was that sarcasm in her voice? Hard to tell; she was already stripping herself of her pants as she passed through the bedroom door, pulling the duffel bags from under the bed and pulling open the zipper on one of them. A standard uniform, much like the outfit she had worn the night before, same undergarments and all. Pulling it on effortlessly, she yanked the cord that pulled up the zipper on the back; after slipping on her gloves she quickly checked each pocket and snap, making sure that the particular items were in place; each of her uniforms were combat ready, equipped with extra clips, small explosives, climbing gear and other such...oddities. Dropping the first bag to the floor, she kicked it under the bed; it settled to rest until needed again. Turning now to the second bag, opening the zipper slightly more carefully, she pulled forth the infamous assault riffle; the one she'd used to tranq Dante. Holding it above her head, it slid down neatly into its holster between her shoulder blades, the butt of the rifle rested nicely there. Next, a pair of automatic hand guns slipped into their holsters and clipped into place upon the rear portion of her hips. A ten inch field knife pressed tightly against each thigh, the end of the knives' sheath held in place by a leather strap that wrapped around her leg. Lastly, a foot and a half long blade was slid along the small of her back, it protruded out from both sides of her body, but had enough movement that it wouldn't inhibit her ability to slip into, or out of, a tight space. For a moment, she looked upon a glass cylinder filled with a bluish, viscous material. A moment was all she needed to decide that it would be best to leave it behind, for now. Zipping the bag closed once more, she set it to the floor and push/kicked it under the bed, turning on her heel she was ready to go. Catching a glimpse of something moving in the room, she turned to it, drawing one of the guns as she did; her reflection. Lowering the gun, and feeling rather silly, she looked at her reflection, something seemed off. Looking herself over in the mirror, something struck her; she was going out in public. The public eye would see her, see her uniform and equipment. The idea did not sit well; she'd spent her life concealing her "job" from any onlookers, only seen in undercover garbs, never in uniform. Going back to the bed, she dropped to her knees, pulling the first bag from beneath. Sifting through the mixture of clothing, she finally found a long, dark coat. Pushing the bag back to place, she rose, pulling the jacket on. It was slightly awkward, but it would have to do. A black, all weather trench coat, a quick availability check proved that all weapons in her arsenal would be just as readily available with the coat on. The only thing that really stuck out was the blade, pushing the handle end down, it shifted until finally it protruded no more; gun from the top, blade from the bottom; that's how it was going to work. Striding out from the room she looked to Dante, lips pressed together tightly. Eyeing him up and down for a moment, she decided she fit well with her 'companion,' "Ready." In all, it had taken her three minutes.



Dante lounged casually at the lift, shoulder propped against the wall, arms and ankles crossed. He heard her rummaging around but let her take her time. She’d figure out where everything went eventually, that he knew. She still didn’t have the first clue what she was up against, but he’d found that experience was the best teacher and resolved to just pull her ass outta the claws when she got in too deep. Idly flicking a brow as she reappeared, he gave her a cursory once-over, noting the little hints of detail that signaled where she’d put all she carried. Hn, he’d have to see about some heavier firepower. God knew he had enough downstairs in his weapon room. That tranq rifle she hauled was rough, but in his personal opinion, he’d rather kill ‘em than have the heathens have any chance of rising again. Pushing off the wall, he nodded once, curtly. “You’ll do,” he said shortly and entered the lift, closing the cage behind her. Lucille brought them to the second level automatically and Dante opened the cage to the garage. Idly pulling his left glove tighter, he surmised his options. He could take the trans, but that’d mean close space he’d be forced to fill with some sort of decent conversation. No. Bikes it was, then. With a practiced eye, he noted she’d taken time to get hers refurbished and cleaned. A good sign. He preferred to do his own detail work on his machines, which he’d done earlier this afternoon. But he’d gotten lazy around the time it came to sand all the scratches out. He’d do it later. Probably have some more to do, anyway. So he headed to his bike and kicked up the stand, wordlessly straddling the beast and kickstarting it, ears reveling in the purring engine noise. Such a baby, he thought fondly, gunning the throttle a bit. Maneuvering over to the final lift, he sat back and balanced easily, waiting for Douglass to do the same. Hn, this was gonna be strange…working with someone. He was a solitary creature of habit, not one easily inured to company.



Douglass : She couldn't help it, her eyes followed her movement; cast upward to peer deeply into the ominous black above. The elevator, like the rest of the 'house' was dimly lit; strangely she found herself comforted by the thought. Standing just off center of the lift, legs shoulder width apart and arms down at her sides, fingers curling and flexing, maneuvering the fingerless gloves into a position of comfort. As the lift ended its climb she followed Dante out, not hesitating for a moment to retrieve her own bike. Pulling the flame endowed helmet down over her head, she closed the visor as she straddled her baby. Kick starting with ease, it purred to life, the definite sound of a dirt bike engine rumbling quaintly between her legs. Easing the bike onto the lift, Dante gave the order and the lift ascended into the darkness above. Reaching up with one hand, Dee touched the pivot point of the visor, and a computer screen kicked on, she didn't really need to read it per say, the coded gibberish that flew past her eye was second nature, read as easily as a person might read a newspaper. Her hazel eye moved from point to point, indicating what information she wanted; directions to the morgue. She'd never been to a morgue, most dead bodies she dealt with had been killed by her own hand, or the hand of one of her brothers; on a few occasions she'd been asked to look at a dead body or two for identification purposes, but never at a morgue. Her life had formerly consisted of staying away from public places, entering only when necessary or when curiosity got the better of her. For a moment she wondered about communication, but decided better to just wait and see.



He didn’t know if she knew where the place was, but he hoped to hell she’d just follow him and keep up. She better. That thought dispersed, he just grunted as the lift locked into place, gunned the throttle and tore out of the empty hangar, kicking dust in his wake. Second nature were the turns along his road; he’d lived in the compound for a good long while. Emerging on the blacktop road, he kept his breakneck speed, loathe to waste any time dithering. Sparing a single glance back over his shoulder, the headlight of her bike revealed she was still there and he grunted again in assent, the simian gesture lost in the howl of the engine and whipping of the wind. Red leather flared behind him as he rode down the yellow line, practically in the middle of the road; traffic was virtually nonexistent here. Another reason he liked it. No one headed out this way unless there was specific reason. But he was forced to back off the hectic speed as they approached the city and the cars became more frequent. That didn’t deter him, however. He wound in between the lines of traffic with sinuous ease, earning curses and epithets from drivers but paying them not the slightest bit of interest. Finally arriving at the morgue downtown, he parked his bike across the street and strode up the steps. Not bothering explaining who he was to the security guard, Dante just brazenly walked through the double doors and nearly bowled the uniform cop over. The man blanched at the cold stare of those hard blue eyes suddenly leveled on him and backed off, retreating behind his little bulletproof window. The resident intern on duty heard the ruckus and stuck her head around the corner, eyes lighting up at seeing the tall red clad man. “Dante!” she exclaimed, nearly grinning idiotically. “Evenin’, Kimmy. I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d invade,” he jested, giving her a gorgeous smirk. The petite co-ed blushed and straightened her lab coat nervously, clearing her throat. “I take it the cops called you?” she said, changing the subject. He nodded. “Yeah, they wanted me to take a look.” Kimmy sighed and pushed back her dark ponytail, turning to lead the way back to the cooler. “You’re getting to be familiar around here, you know that?” she teased, daring to rib him playfully. Avoiding the touch without meaning too, Dante snorted. “Don’t remind me. One of these days I’m gonna just take over the police force, get my ass elected mayor and live the rest of my life on some remote tropical island away from all humanity.” Kimmy giggled, then her eye fell on Dante’s companion. “Branching out, are you?” she asked curiously. Dante shrugged as they emerged in the back. “Something like that.”



Douglass : Following him was nothing, she'd had her share of chases. Pulling her bike up behind his, she set the kickstand and removed her helmet. Leaving it to rest upon the handle bars, she quickly trotted across the street and up the steps just in time to watch the intern flirt with Dante. The girl cast a glance Dee's way, and she retorted with apathetic glance, no need to get involved with that conversation, obviously they both had their objectives. Douglass strode confidently past the young intern, she couldn't be much older than Dee herself; casting hazel eyes this way and that, she observed the room for a good long minute, bright florescent lights and white walls almost reminded her of The Clinic; almost except for the dead bodies laid out. The girl chattered a bit more, smiling and giggling at Dante as though she expected him to sweep down and kiss her; as far as Douglass knew, he would. He'd had the audacity to smack her ass. "This is the couple over here," the girl directed; leading Dante and herself towards the bodies. Kimmy pulled back the sheets, revealing them to their middles. Instantly a scene played out in Douglass's head, the attackers, however, were only shadows in her mind. Shapes without definition, she still didn't know exactly what had caused the wounds, but it was likely that Dante would. "Well," Douglass's first word since arriving.



Kimmy’s flirtations fell to the far recesses of his mind as eyes lit on the victims. The man sported a ring of holes across his shoulder, evidence something had completely enveloped the head and simply bit down. Hm, perhaps the woman had been slain first. Moving around to the other side of the stretcher, he studied her corpse in finer detail. Muttering to himself, he rambled on, “Multiple bruises around the chest and shoulders, lacerations to the skin…but not gashes…” Indeed, mere scratches littered the female’s flesh, although Dante’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “And no bleeding…almost as if they were cauterized immediately upon infliction.” On impulse, he lifted the sheet and frowned. “Good Jesus Christ,” he breathed. The woman’s legs were gone below the knees. Bone gleamed in the sterile light, ragged gobbets of flesh hung haphazardly from the stumps. He dropped the sheet and looked back to Kimmy. “Lemme guess…organs shredded and ground into hamburger, right?” The intern nodded, a frown knitting her brow. “Yeah, autopsy revealed cause of death was hemorrhaging.” Dante nodded. “Yeah, that happens when your guts swap places with your lungs.” A heavy sigh. “And the male…?” Crossing back to the other side, he didn’t have to see the sheet to realize the lower half of the man’s body was gone. Teeth ground. “So help me…” He couldn’t find curses scathing enough. “Harris said there was a kid. Missing. No sign yet, either, I bet?” Kimmy shook her dark head. “Not yet.” Her gaze grew clinical. “You know what did this, Dante?” Dante gave her a look that nearly froze her heart in her chest, it was so blackly filled with malice and loathing. “Yeah.”



Douglass : In a way, it didn't bother her that she was left out of the conversation; but then again it did. Her eyes moved back and forth from one face to the other, then back down to the bodies. Head shaking slightly, she turned on heel and tread towards the door. Pushing through, she cast a disinterested glance at the security guard and stepped out to the street. Dante knew what he was doing; she could tell by the way he meticulously studied the victims. In a way he almost reminded her of Sam; strange, first time she'd thought about him in a while. Silently she prayed for him; religion and God was lost to her, had been for some time, but still she prayed. Glancing up and down the street, she took notice of how many people chose to trudge around in the desolate, bleak confines of the night. Couples toddled, arms entwined; groups of teenagers collaborated upon street corners; likely a drug deal or something of the sort. Shaking her head slightly yet again, slender fingers glided through the untamable hair, pulling out the ponytail holder and reaffixing it. Hands were jutted deep into coat pockets, and she looked up once more into the never ending blackness of the night sky. Stars had chosen to hide their faces this night, and she didn't blame them. The hollow moon peeked from behind thinning clouds to cast a sympathetic glance upon the world below; her world. Turning she watched over her shoulder as the security guard chattered endlessly upon the telephone, eyeing her with suspicion. One corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk, and her shoulders heaved out once chuckle; ignorant fool. Turning back around, she stepped into the street, crossing over to stand beside her bike until Dante was finished with his little fan club.



Dante acknowledged Douglass’ departure with a mere flicked eyebrow. Hn, figured, he thought with a wry snort. But he got all pertinent information from Kimmy, such as location of crime scene, time, that sort of thing he loathed. He wasn’t a damned cop. But seemed like he was getting turned into one, whether he liked it or not. Exiting the morgue after unobtrusively fending off another fevered pass by the cute intern, Dante glared at the security guard and stepped outside, inhaling a deep breath. That she-bitch had dared! Rage clouded his vision and for a moment he nearly lost his temper and spontaneously combusted right there on the sidewalk. He’d make sure to ass rape that bitch-demon this time and send her crawling back to her master…in pieces. Spying Douglass across the street by the motorcycles, he crossed the street against the light, making horns blare and people swear, but ignored were they. Tightening his gloves over fingers, the leather creased as he clenched a fist, wanting to slam it into something concrete. Which would then fall and create total mayhem and destruction. He squealched the impulse, straddled his bike, sat back, crossed arms, and waited with arched brow.



Douglass : "And you think I have a temper," maybe she was mocking him, maybe not. Holding her helmet in both hands, she glanced at the building then back to Dante, "One assailant, took the woman first then the man. I saw shoes near the autopsy table, judging by style and size I'd say they belonged to the man. Wet grass, they were either at a park or in a residential area; not too many places downtown that grow nice lawns." A single brow flicked up for a moment as she finished, searching for his verdict. "Would you expect the kid to still be alive?" There was a shadow of concern in her voice; children didn't deserve to become part of this, of anything Douglass had ever been involved in. Looking back down the street, a family walked, smiling and laughing without a care in the world; silently she cursed them forced herself to look away and back at Dante.



Dante nodded once. “Not bad,” he said heavily, annoyed more at the circumstances then her. Heaving a sigh, he finished the scenario. “A couple out for a stroll, outing, whatever, gets pounced then eaten. The target was the kid in the first place, probably closer to the woman. So she’s nabbed first. The man panics, runs around helplessly for a minute, then tries to get her back and stumbles across her dead body. He gets attacked and killed. Then a bit of commotion, causing the demon to have to skedaddle, taking the kid. Which’s why neither bodies were fully masticated.” He nearly gagged just saying the word. “I know what, or who rather, did this. The slashes across the woman’s chest indicate some type of humanoid form, not to penetrate too deeply. Any animal would have rent her body to shreds. But, Bellina’s not one for messiness…until she gets hungry or pissed, that is. Ever heard of a succubus? A ghostish type thing that preys on human men? Bellina can take the form of a human woman or child, that’s how she lures her prey. Pitiful innocence. But she likes her meat tender. So she pulls the woman and kid away, shifts form and chomps happily on mommy when daddy interrupts. That pisses her off and she starts on daddy, too. But something makes her leave, whether it be lurkers or passersby, whatever.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “As for the kid, I don’t know. I’d say she would have killed the kid first, but…since there wasn’t a body, and she doesn’t just eat ‘em whole, I don’t know.” His eyes hardened. “But I can flat guaran-damn-tee one thing. I’ll find out before I impale her filthy little ass.”



Douglass : Slipping her helmet on, she fastened the strap beneath her chin, "The park then." Straddling her bike once more, she kick started it and revved the engine, "Meet you there," more of a statement than a question. Hitting the accelerator she took off down the street, turning left and heading for the north end of the park, good a place to start as any. Tapping the start button of her helmet, the night vision kicked on, the park was as dark as a back ally. Dim lights illuminated the main walkways, but other than that nothing; easy for someone to get crept up on. Scanning the perimeter for signs of a struggled exit, the bike idled graciously as she rolled it slowly to parking space, question was should she wait for Dante? Deciding against the idea, she killed the engine and removed her helmet, setting it upon the handlebar once more she pulled what looked like one half of a set of lab goggles. Pressing the only solid piece to her forehead the adhesive stuck immediately and the screen kicked on. It began to analyze the surrounding area, and moved in on a set of tracks. Brow furrowed slightly and she treaded softly to the set of tracks, down the way she could see the police tape sectioning off the crime scene, and she shook her head. So much valued evidence gone, stupid idiots. When Dante pulled in, she was kneeling beside the tracks, examining them carefully.



Dante didn’t kill himself not push his bike too hard getting there. He knew Bellina, had fought her before, stupidly let her live. A mistake he wouldn’t, couldn’t make twice. Not this time, hellbitch, he thought sourly, idling the bike’s engine to a silent splutter and a coughed stop as he kicked down the stand and dismounted. It didn’t take him long to find Douglass; she was hunched down on the wet grass beside the police tape, apparently doing her own detective work. But he had another way to find out things; merely close his eyes and listen. Walking carefully, silently, a vermillion shadow on the dark green carpet, his lids shielded cerulean hues and he expanded his senses, letting his blood roar through his veins, seeking like. He waited a moment. Nothing. She was long gone from here. Probably slithered off to a hole to escape notice. Bellina wasn’t stupid; she’d know she was being hunted and take precautions to avoid such. Pausing behind Douglass, he said quietly, “She’s not here. I didn’t really expect her to be.” He turned his head, staring off over the edge of the precipice to the lights of the city. Such a maze to be lost in. It struck him deeper than she could know, the thought that a human child might have paid the ultimate price tonight. But he couldn’t grieve. To grieve made one weak, it allowed emotion to rule, pointless human emotion that could get one slaughtered. Jayden’s words came back to him. You can’t save them all, Dante. He knew that, of course, but it still didn’t alleviate his nightmares. A sigh and a slight turn, then a soft rustle had him whirling around, ebon plated pistol already out and held against his side. A loud click as his thumb flicked back the hammer. “Get up, Douglass,” he said through nearly closed lips. “Get that ass back…” But the rustling grew louder and his brows lowered dangerously, eyes affixed to the leaves of the bush. He nearly shot out of pure reflex anyway as the small form crept from the bush, clothes filthy and torn, brown hair tousled, whimpering piteously. The little boy, just barely three years old, crawled free of the brush and tried to stand up, fell over and the second try regained his feet. Mud streaked and crying, he whimpered and looked around, as if in shock. “Momma?” he called in a small voice.



Douglass : She'd heard the noise when Dante had, the hairs on the back of her neck standing erect. She hadn't rose, instead opted to remain crouched upon the floor; something interesting found. The monitor screen glowed green with night vision now, fixating upon the rattling bushes, fingers itching at the left gun. As the child broke through the shrubs, she sighed with relief. Muscles eased slightly as finally she did as directed and rose to a standing position. Experience had taught her not to misjudge a situation, but she hadn't seen any signs of a struggle with the child, not even a striding step as though the toddler had ran away. It was possible that he'd been knocked away, sent hurling through the air and just now regained consciousness, but somehow she doubted it. "You alright hun?" she bent down slightly, hands resting on her thighs. "You gave everyone quite the scare." She glanced at Dante, a stern look; it would give him the opportunity to call the bluff, if that's what it was. "If you'll just come with me cutie, we'll call your mommy." Her voice had changed dramatically from anything Dante had heard before; it wasn't stern, nor sarcastic or dry. It was bright, chimey even and friendly. "Come on sweetie," she coaxed.



Dante didn’t ease his grip on the ebon pistol. Something didn’t make sense here. The toddler blinked at Douglass, as if trying to figure out just what that contraption was on the woman’s head, then tilted his head and sniffled, taking a tentative step forward. Dante just held his ground, the slight breeze moving his long coat around his ankles. But his eyes scoured the kid for any signs of abnormality. Hm. It wasn’t right, his brain screamed at him. It just wasn’t. Bellina would never leave food like this. Perhaps one of the cops had gotten off a shot and wounded her? No, he’d have smelled the demon blood. There was nothing but human blood mixed with dirt and grass befouling the air. But his attention turned back to the child, who was precariously but steadily making his way to the crouching Douglass. A brow quirked. What in the living hell…? A human would have missed it. For the fleetest instant, the boy’s features shifted to those of…something else, but Dante saw it, saw the flame buried in the eyes. Charging forward, his hip bowled Douglass over, sending her sprawling backward as he snatched the kid by the nape of the neck and held it aloft at arms length. The change came fully forward then, the guise shed. The boy’s face shifted again, this time hateful flaming eyes burned in a slimy scaled face, rows of small razor teeth snapped and gnashed. The small arms, unable to take the she-demon’s shape, flailed, long nails trying to catch the hunter’s arm or torso, but Dante wasn’t having that. He grinned, nearly a replica of the snarling thing he now held and put the muzzle of that massive hand-cannon directly between Bellina’s eyes, making her hiss and snarl back. “Evenin’, my pretty,” Dante drawled sarcastically. “I know you remember me.” The voice, when it came, was obscenely distorted and evil. “Yesss, sssson of Sssspardaaaa….let me go…” Dante snorted. “Come on, Bellina. A three year old? You should have eaten the kid, then taken over the mother.” She hissed and snapped at him again, but he shook the body firmly, gloved fingers digging into skin. “Curssssse you….”she hissed. “Get in line,” he snapped back. “So, do I blow you back to hell or what? You can’t invade my body, I’m a disgusting man, you know,” he told the demoness almost conversationally. He prayed Douglass would just keep her yap shut and let him handle it, he was going to try to save the boy if he could, but it would be such a long shot.



Douglass : As soon as he moved a gun was drawn and aimed at the child, 'She likes to take the form of women and children,' Dante's voice echoed in her mind. It'd worked; the demoness had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker. Dee may have been new to the game, but she wasn't stupid; Dante had warned her, and she'd heeded his warning, even set it up so he'd catch the little bastard off guard. From a seated position on the ground, gun aimed directly at the thing wiggling about in Dante's hand, it made Douglass's lip curl into a snarl to think of what the hell spawn had done to the child. Pushing herself up to one knee, then to her feet, she stood a good few feet back, gun aimed and finger on the trigger. Eyes moved back and froth from Dante to Bellina and back again. Again Douglass was being left out of the conversation, but she felt no remorse for such, patience was a virtue.



Dante heard Douglass behind him, heard the hammer click on her gun. Good girl. Seems professional training paid off. Sometimes. But he refocused his attention back on the wriggling little monster flailing around in his grip. Damned good thing the place was deserted, else they’d be drawing quite a crowd. Bellina seethed and hissed, the child’s form slowly dissolving as her deadly poison did its work. Dante would have to talk fast. “Come on, Belle,” he said with an exasperated snort, “why do you always do this type of shit? I mean, really. You’re supposed to be one of the higher demons of hell, babe, and you can’t even fool one pitiful half-human hunter?” He cut his eyes and said off to the side, “I’d hate to see what happens when you finally run across Sparda…” A clacked hiss as Bellina’s teeth clicked together. “Ssssparda!!!! …do not mentttttion…that foul being’ssssss name…Danttttte….” she hissed, venomous spittle flying from the frothing lips. The thrashing grew a bit wilder, but Dante just kept on, relentless. “Belle, really, I might have felt some sort of pity for ya when you got out last time, but do you really think Dad will? Hmm?” He snorted then scoffed. “I seriously doubt it. From what I know of him, he’s liable to bend your scaly little ass over, goat fuck you to death then impale you on the very spires of Lucifer’s castle.” A gleamed grin. “How ‘bout them apples?” A screech of unrecognizable fury left Bellina’s stolen lips as the hated visage of Sparda overrode her vision of his son and the air suddenly shifted as her rage forced her to release her grip on the human boy, the demon infestation lost. A ghostly foggy cloud lifted from the child’s body, his features returning to normal, going slack. Bellina floated just over Dante’s head, screaming in wailing rage. Spying a new victim she could overtake, Douglass, she writhed and shifted, her hideous face zeroing in on the woman, the insubstantial misshapen body following along behind, akin to an accordion. Dante, knowing where she’d strike next, dropped the unconscious kid on the grass and dove for Douglass just as Bellina screamed and did the same, the hunter knocking her back to the ground a second time, keeping her pinned under his body. Bellina, thwarted of her prey, howled and veered off, gnashing fangs in agony. She spun and made to take the child once more, but Dante whipped the gleaming Alastor from his back, and with a miraculous sideways whip, sent the thirsting sword spinning end over end towards the demon succubus. The blade recognized its own, could pierce even the most insubstantial demon flesh. The razor-sharp edge severed Bellina’s head from body just as she dove for the boy once more, sending the howling abomination scattering into thin air, her misty flesh dissipating as she died. Sated, the Alastor flew on, embedding deeply into a nearby inoffensive pine tree.



Douglass : The conversation peaked Dee's interest; Sparda? Dad? Hmmm… a conversation for later. The little bastards fury swept about like waves, everything around them could feel the anger wallowing deep within the small creature. When finally the demoness extracted itself from the child's body, Douglass knew her purpose. The fucking thing headed straight for her, gun aimed directly at the things forehead she managed off a shot or two before Dante knocked her down, eyes ripped up to look at the thing, a small hole off center of the beasts head, she'd hit; but it wouldn't matter; the Alastor beheaded the creature and impaled the tree. Shit, Dee thought watching the demons body turn to gas and float away on the evening breeze. The child stirred slightly, groaning in agony. Douglass tried to turn over, to move at all, and couldn't. "Excuse me, but your gun is digging into my hip." The dry overtone had taken hold of her voice once more. Her own gun had been knocked free of her hand when she hit the ground; it lay a good three feet away now; however she was still armed.



Dante took a long second to breathe after watching Bellina finally meet her end at the teeth of a fellow demoness. The boy twitched and whimpered a few feet away; he’d start bawling soon. But Dante blinked at Douglass’s dry overtone and couldn’t resist a smartassed comment. That damnable smirk slithered across mobile lips and cerulean eyes twinkled wickedly as he chuckled and replied, “Sorry, darlin’, I’ll do better next time.” That said, he grinned and shoved off her, rolling easily to his feet. Adjusting his long red coat, he bypassed the boy for the blade and it came willingly to his hand, leaving the bark of the tree with hardly any effort at all. The kid rolled over, sat up, looked around and immediately started crying. Dante returned and lifted him, nearly deafened at the infant’s howls. The hunter couldn’t blame him; had he someone to hold him, he’d probably start wailing too. But he shushed the little boy soothingly, wrapping the shivering infant in his coat, patting his back gently. Turning back to Douglass, he said curtly, “We need to get outta here. The cops need to take the kid, first off,” his eyes hardened, “then I need to see a man about something.”



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