Red Nightmares at Midnight

It’d been two weeks since the night at the church. Damian had died, the fucker, leaving his church in disarray. The local cops, at Harris and William’s expense, cleaned up the mess left by their retainer devil hunter. But the demon activity, thwarted of their master’s command, had escalated, leaving Dante one hopping hunter. He went out ever night and slew the demon-spawn. He’d paid a visit to Miss Monroe himself, scaring her to an even higher level than had Douglass. She’d capitulated completely, giving him not only names, but addresses and phone numbers. As well as meeting times. Which was where life found him at present, making his way out of town to the abandoned mines Douglass had discovered a few weeks earlier. Seems the main focus of worshippers had taken to meeting out here, now that Damian’s church had been compromised. Lips pulled back from teeth in a snarl. The cattle would find any excuse, he thought, purring the bike down the deserted road. The sun had faded hours ago, leaving the moon hanging full and low in the diamond studded sky. It was nice, actually, not the foggy black of town. Parking about a mile away, he dismounted and jogged the rest of the way, stealthily sneaking up to the cut fence. Keeping to the shadows, he watched as the crowd of about fifteen hard-core humans gathered around the mouth of the mine, circling the fire that blazed brightly. A brow quirked as he noted the salt poured in a peculiar formation on the ground, gleaming against the dirt like glitter. They were calling something, hm? A sneer curled lips once more. Let ‘em. Might give him something to look forward to. The big burly male he recognized; one of Damian’s old disciples, stood at the head of the pentagram, lifting arms to the sky. Dante rolled his eyes; the fucker needed to have his ear to the ground, Hell was that-a-way. But he listened intently as the man began to intone solemnly, the others catching the thread and moaning along with him. The air pressure around the place lowered, then skyrocketed as the fire suddenly blazed to life, shooting upwards in a blaze of glory. The flames leapt from the column, making a ring around the chanting worshippers. Fucking godlings, he realized a bit belatedly, they were summoning a lord. Not good, he told himself. But a howl rose the hair on the back of his neck as the ground shook a bit; Dante was moving even before the first monster appeared out of the cave mouth. The beast sprang, but gunshots screamed through the night as the red clad hunter vaulted the fence and fired both pistols in the same movement, flipping easily as he landed. Coat flaring, he jumped up and plugged a hole in the disciple’s forehead, effectively shutting the man up. The other humans, unsure as to which was the greater threat, did what any good herd would do…they panicked. Running amuck about the place, they shrieked and screamed, not a few fell victim to the teeth and claws of the lesser beings they’d prayed so hard to bring to this plane. But the portal was still open; Dante knew he had to close it. If he could just get there! Several snarling flaming beasts, all armed with bone hard scale, razor claws and dripping fangs stood in his way. Not to mention a tall figure striding from the mouth of the cave. Just fucking lovely, Dante thought as he shot yet another demon. The lord managed to get his scaled ass through. The demon general roared, the sound shaking the ground yet again, and the humans scattered, trampling anything in their way. Dante managed to kill everything he ran across, making his way to the humanoid demonic figure, trying to get inside the cave to seal the rift once more. But more and more were crawling from the cave mouth, swarming. Meat was fresh, fear was rank. They killed and fed, the stench of human blood filled the air. The general spied the hated son of Sparda and roared, brandishing a huge battle-ax. Dante hollered back, drawing the Alastor from her harness. The blade flashed with lightening as Dante strode forward to meet the unfortunate fucktard that dared cross his path.



Douglass : Finding Dante wasn't as hard as one might expect; in the time she'd spent with him, she'd learned his style, his flamboyant streak that would never leave a job without a mark. It was too easy to pick out his articles, they always had a particular flare to them, and even in her time away she couldn't help but smile as she pictured the actual incident. One good thing about ATT, you never went without. Across all countries there were garages, airports, clinics, anything you could need, you could find in any major city. All the windows of the 2003 Chevy diesel were down, wind whipped all around her, causing unruly blond locks to flutter and snap. Headlights picked up the colors of human cloths, perfect; she was just in time for the party. Gunning the engine, the truck roared up the road, kicking up clay dust as she flew; shifting into a higher gear, she smirked as the truck crashed through the gate, damn was she ever ready for this. Slamming on the breaks, the truck fishtailed to a stop, she still had a bit of distance to go before actually finding the action, but all she needed to do was follow the screams. Snapping clips into guns she kicked open the door, swinging legs to fall upon the mixed colors of clay. One of the human worshipers ran up to her, screaming something about interfering with such an important night; Douglass responded as expected, automatic multi round mini gun aimed right at the lady's forehead; "If you want to keep your sorry ass alive, back the fuck off bitch. I have no problem ending this right here and now." Douglass hardly even looked at the woman, but she shut her trap right quick. Quickly walking the short distance left, she topped a hill of red clay, peering down into the ruckus below; holy fucking shit. Eyes moved quickly from one frame to the next, demons falling everywhere; she had to admit it, he was good. Brows creased as the demon lord howled, and Dante responded; not because of the commotion, but because lesser demons were trying to play the sly. Aiming the gun carefully, she squeezed of round after round, advancing as she did so; one, two, three demons now changed their course from Dante to Douglass, Hello honey. As they advanced, moving faster than any person could, she stood firm, two guns aimed and firing in rapid succession. Bullets littered the demons heads, necks, and chest cavities. It took a hell of a lot of ammunition, but they fell, the last within the last ten feet. She glanced up, just in time to see more lesser demons advancing, "Perfect." Tossing away the spent firearms, she withdrew handguns armed with hollow tips, taking her time to aim carefully, she dropped them one at a time with perfectly planted bullets to between the eyes. Before long her guns were spent, tossing them away as well, she withdrew her field blade, a nasty looking thing that had many serrations that pointed back towards her hand, "Time to dance." It was a blade designed for one purpose, to disembowel; slip in easy, then pull it all out. She charged forward, legs pumping with anticipation, coming to one demon she swung the blade low as it slashed high, ducking just under it's razor sharp talons she removed the lower portion of it's leg, the beast falling she swung it around once more, removing the head. See I did learn something.



As usual with these pack hunts, Dante was covered with demon blood. But most of the slimy junk just slid off the red leather; he’d treated it with countless jars of mink oil. He roared his challenge back to the general, the thing kicked one of his own from his path and strode through the carnage to meet the demon-blooded prince. Dante figured this was a lesser general, no insults had been thrown, probably incapable of human speech. But the demon tongue, while guttural and harsh on any form of ears, was understood well enough and gauntlets were thrown like knives. Recoiling from a rather sharp barb, the general roared and heaved a fireball at his enemy. Dante ducked it, rolling to the side, barely avoiding the slashing claws of one of the beasts. He snarled and was about to send the fucker back to hell to suck Satan’s left nut when it jerked and fell over, twitching. Blinking, he rolled quickly to his feet and shot a look at the hill, a snort and amused shake of his head at seeing a familiar figure shooting into the melee. Seemed she’d finished her soul-searching. But his attention was wrenched back around as the general closed the distance and swung his massive ax at the hunter’s head. Dante yelled back and parried it, the Alastor lashing in her master’s grasp. The dance with blades was exquisite, although to the layman eye it seemed two brutes hacking with sticks. But the blows being delivered would have stunned, if not killed any mortal man. A fraction too late in recovering, Dante grunted as he was smacked in the stomach and heaved backward, slamming into the side of the cliff. Crumpling to the ground, a bit dazed by the abrupt blow, he blinked and shook his head, staggering to his feet. Reflex had him still gripping the Alastor. But clearing his vision quickly, he threw the sword up just in time to block the massive overhand strike that was meant to cleave his skull. Shoving the general back, he ducked and rolled behind the demon, opening a wide gash in the flaming armor, from shoulder to waist. The general howled and swung around, but Dante side-stepped and severed the arm from the body, the useless ax clattering to the gravel. The demon tried to level another fireball at the demon hunter, but Dante thwarted that by shoving the blade of the Alastor full into the general’s helmet, through the empty mouth slit and protruding through the other side. Jerking the blade free as the demon shrieked, he took one step back and swung around, delivering a massive backhand stroke that severed the neck from the body, sending the helmeted thing flying. The body crumpled, dissolving into fiery ash and Dante heaved a breath, the sword still blazing in his hand. A resounding boom shook the mine as the portal finally closed.



Douglass : Despite Dante's valiant finish, there were still piss suckers to attend to. They swarmed her, seven of them at once. "Fuck," the word was low, barely a whisper as two lunged at her; ducking and rolling on the diagonal, shoulder going first, she stuck her blade deep into the belly of the nearest demon, a great heave retrieving the blade and the demons insides spilling out everywhere; thing worked well. The two that had lunged, collided in midair, impaling each other with talons and teeth; stupid things. But there were still four to deal with, and they didn't waste any time taking off after her ass either. Pulling the last of her guns from her boot as she pushed herself back erect, the barrel was aimed and the gun discharged in rapid succession at the nearest, hitting it in the chest multiple times it finally fell, laying at her feet in a stinking heap. The smell was enough to make her gut turn, and her face showed it; but it wasn't the time to think about that, a second demon fell victim to her happy trigger finger. Shit, the chambers almost empty; but she didn't have time to worry about that either. Using the last of her ammunition she emptied the chambers into the neck of the advancing hell spawn, but it wasn't enough to incapacitate it. The fucker leapt onto her, knocking her over and snarling in her face. Claws tore at exposed flesh, human arms donned lacerations and punctures from the wounds inflicted. Using her blade, she kept the beast back enough; but it held the sharp edges in a vice like chomp. Fingers that had previously been clenching a gun slipped down her body, finding an explosive and setting it; her arm crawled back up her body and shoved the bomb into the things mouth, pointed mounts digging into the flesh of the top of the demons mouth, teeth grated her arm as she pulled away. Douglass had anticipated the advance of the final specimen, and kicked with both legs sending her too close for comfort adversary hurdling backwards into the currently advancing one; no time to waste, that bomb was going to go off any second. Forcing herself to her feet, she hauled ass to just over the clay pile, ducking down and covering her head as the bomb exploded, bits and pieces of demon head flew everywhere, and the second was badly maimed in the explosion; Douglass simply smirked.




Despite his assurance that the portal was shut, Dante covered his ass by disappearing in the mine to double check. He figured Douglass came armed to the teeth; she’d test by taking out the rest. He could see well enough in the dark, and advanced slowly, both guns in eager palms. But nothing; all was silent as the grave. Turning, he nearly shot the thing on principle as a hand snagged his booted ankle. Whirling, he aimed the right pistol right between the eyes of a dying human man, his legs gone, eaten from the thighs down. “P…please,” the soon-to-be-corpse mumbled, blood leaking from his mouth, “h-h…elp…me…e.” A snort of disgust curled the hunter’s lip. “Rot with your master,” he snarled, kicking off the hand and striding back outside. A wail followed him, but he turned deaf ears behind him. They’d made the choice, now they must pay the price. He emerged just in time to see the explosion, turning his head to shield his eyes as bits of demon rained down over the little valley. When the smoke, gravel and flesh cleared, he sheathed his pistols and examined the place. Some unfortunate human had fallen in the fire and scattered the embers everywhere; the flames had finally died. The desert winds wafted away most of the stench, thankfully. Bits and pieces of human and demon alike were scattered from the cave mouth to the clay heap, but everything was dead or dying. A most satisfactory night, he thought with a grin, flicking coat-tails behind him. But a brow quirked as he realized he didn’t see Douglass. Hn, she wouldn’t be dead, she was too resourceful for that. But lesse…spying abandoned guns on the ground, he followed the small trail to the base of the clay pile and, knowing better than to just run up, called, “Douglass, you still alive? Come get your gear, woman! You’ll need it for the next one!”




Douglass : "Yeah, yeah," she rose to her feet, waist and above visible over the clay stack; brushing away bits of demon and what not from her shoulders and hair she threw a glance Dante's way. "Miss me?" she inquired with a smile, hopefully he knew she was joking; to a degree. Taking a few steps to the top of the pile, she planted feet to slid down the other side, taking one step once she reached the bottom for balance, she stooped and picked up one gun, then another. "You've been busy," she commented as she scanned the area for her blade, shit where did it go? Looking slightly confused, eyes moved around the surrounding area, unsure of where it would have gone. Eyes darted here, then there; where the fuck did it go? Finally a glint caught her attention, and she turned to the cliff face, "Well shit." There embedded in the soft stone was her blade, it was too high for her to reach, but not so high that she wouldn't be able to get a hand on it. "Fuck it," brushing it off for a moment she retrieved the remaining firearms.




Dante wasn’t surprised to see her taking cover behind the clay slide. He stepped out of the way as she slid down, chuckling a bit to her question. Hunting always, well, most of the time, put him in a good mood, so he was able to answer without snapping too much. But a leathered shoulder shrugged as he said, “Lucille did, seems like. She’s been pestering me more than normal, so I guess that’s a good sign.” He grinned, blue eyes twinkling a bit. “But yeah, I didn’t have an ass to slap then get pummeled for my daring” he smirked, shaking his head a bit. Following her gaze, spying the embedded blade, he chuckled and strode to the rock wall, easily wrapping a hand around the hilt and giving a smart yank. The large knife slid from the rock with a harsh scrape; couldn’t be helped. Examining it, Dante’s lips twitched. “Hn, have to grind that out.” Passing her, he handed her the blade, hilt first, before striding to the firesite and smudging out the salt pattern with his boot. “Can’t have ‘em coming back next moon and trying it again.” His brow furrowed. “Matter of fact…” With a sudden insight, he pulled off one glove and bared his palm. Taking a small switchblade from his coat pocket, he cut a line in his palm, letting blood well deep and thick. Making a fist, he extended his arm and jerked open his fingers, sending droplets of his blood scattering across the demolished pattern. Shaking his hand free of the remaining droplets, he nodded, satisfied. “There,” he said, pocketing the blade and flexing fingers, “that outta hold the fuckers for a bit.”




Douglass : Rolling her eyes she brushed off his comment about her ass; he must be an ass man, she decided. While away, she'd promised herself she'd do her best to keep any fights or arguments to a minimum, when she could. "Thanks," she commented, taking the blade and examining it. It needed more than just some grinding; shit, the rock totaled the edge. Shaking her head slightly she slipped the blade back into its sheath. Quirking a brow at his actions, she refrained from comment; she knew he had his reasons. "So, anymore fun for the night?" Brushing off guns, she looked them over as best she could in the darkness, even the night vision wasn't helpful enough when looking for sand and dirt in a gun barrel. They needed cleaning, and she'd be happy to baby them a bit later.




Dante shrugged. “Not that I know of. It’s relatively late and us demons aren’t too fond of sunlight,” he said with a scowl to the eastern sky. But he quirked a brow at the demolished fence and gate. “In a hurry, were ya?” Hn, worthy of his own bust-in-kill-everything-that-moved-style. “Not too bad, I’ll admit.” Quick ears caught the sounds of scuttling not very far away. Brows lowered. “Seems the cattle are dispersing for the evening rustle.” He snorted, making his way out of the small valley. “I hope none of ‘em sleep for a week. Nightmares all ‘round.”




Douglass : "You're not a demon, you're Dante." She didn't even look up as she said it; it wasn't meant to be a derogatory statement, just simple fact. Since the night at the church, her outlook had been altered drastically; the monster that loomed at Dante's shadow had disappeared, and after the incidents she'd endured with him, the pain and sorrow she'd seen on his face the night with Bellina, she couldn't see him as anything but Dante; there really were no words to describe him. Blowing once into a gun barrel, she holstered it, before turning and walking to the large green truck; "They won't sleep for weeks, but not because of nightmares. They will try again, maybe not here, but they will." Opening up the driver’s side door, she hoisted herself halfway in, "Want a lift?"




He shrugged, cresting the hill. “Yeah, unique, that’s me.” Stretching a bit, he cracked his neck, first one way, then the other. Running a hand through tousled platinum, he turned eyes towards the city, the glow lighting the soft night sky. “They might try again, but they damned sure won’t do it here. This place is a hot-spot, a part of this mortal plane that resounds with supernatural availability. Not too many of those around here, thank Christ. And I just negated this one,” he said, gesturing with his bare hand back towards the mine. Wiggling fingers in her direction, he waved his now-healed hand. “Sparda’s blood. A powerful magic. If they try to invoke anything from the underworld, the results’ll be negative. Sorta uses up the magic ability, I guess.” He grinned evilly, teeth flashing white in the darkness. “And when they do try again, bet your knickers I’ll be there to trash that one, too.” He chortled wickedly. “God, I love my job…” But a brow quirked to the offer of a ride before he shook his head a bit. “Nah, ‘s all right. I brought my bike. All the transportation I need. Beats flying, though.”




Douglass : "The way flying kicks your ass, I'd say it does." She shook her head smiling; damn she was in a good mood, a successful job always did that. "Sure you don't want me to drop you off at your bike?" Jesus how her attitude had changed, the reprieve was what she really needed. Although she smiled and spoke in good humor, her heart was still bleeding inside. The emptiness that had been haunting her before she left remained, but she wouldn't let him know it; not anymore. This was her problem, her business and Dante had enough on his plate; he didn't need to deal with her shit too; good poker face. However, the deep running scar wasn't affecting her tonight, her blood was pumping and adrenaline had been running high, she was ready for more, but wasn't about to go out and make trouble; hmm… maybe some time at a bar? Nah, not tonight. Waiting for Dante's reply she started the engine, the diesel rumbling to life, God she loved that sound.




A slow grin spread across his lips. “Babe, before you even get that thing hauled around, I’ll be at my bike.” So saying, he just laughed and disappeared into the shadows, running easily, leather flaring out behind him. Night vision was wonderful, no glasses to worry about. He avoided all obstacles in his path with uncanny ease, was so nice to have demon reflexes. He could run faster if he shifted, that he knew, but there wasn’t need. He knew where he’d parked his machine and made a straight beeline for it. He heard the squalling of the truck’s engine behind him and just grinned, sliding down the slope beside his motorcycle. Roaring the massive engine to life, he rode it straight up from the wash, landing on the dirt road right between the headlights of the diesel. Gunning the throttle, he tore out of the ravine, jerking the handlebars to pull up the front wheel as he pushed even harder, kicking up no end of dust in his wake. Slamming the wheel back to earth, he just launched gravel and dirt into the air as he hit pavement, engine whining as he sped down the asphalt. Hm, home? Probably, it wasn’t getting any earlier and he could do with a huge burger, topped with a mountain of garnish, then a good workout and a long cool nap.




Douglass : She'd have gone the same route, only she needed to drop off the truck and pick up her bike. She'd left her baby at one of the garages around town before she'd taken off, leaving the city of Los Angeles far behind as she headed eastward, finding refuge deep in the Rocky Mountains. God she loved the mountains, always had and always would, it'd been a strange fall, snow fell early; the powdery white had helped ease nerves. Turing the opposite direction from which Dante had upon reaching the paved street, she drove slowly towards the city; seventy was slowly. Pulling up to the garage, she entered the pin that produced a thumb scanner, Conroy always over did it. Placing the digit in the destined place, it read her imprint and allowed access. The gates slid open and she eased the truck inside, the engines grumble echoing off the cold, stone walls. Parking it back where she'd gotten it from, she pulled the single duffel bag from the back seat, tossing it over her shoulder before locking up the truck and replacing the keys. Slipping onto her bike, she rocked forward, damn it felt good to have her baby back between her legs. Light fingers danced over the handle bars, silently asking forgiveness for time away. Kick starting it, she took it easy, obeying common parking lot laws and eased it onto the street; not really a gesture of good faith to abuse a loved one after so long apart. Once the engine had warmed up, and she reached the open roads leading out of the city, she gunned it, letting the engine whine for more. In no time she was passing through the hologram coverage, "Howdy Lucy."




Lucille’s generators powered up, as was programmed, but whined down at hearing Douglass’s voice imprint. “Welcome back, Douglass Gean McQue, authorized personnel,” Lucille said, a perfect intonation of Douglass’s former greeting for the mainframe. “To the second level?” Without waiting for acquiescence, the lift’s locks released and it began to lower down into the compound. Dante, meanwhile, had reached home, donned sweats and descended into the bottom level and was currently beating the shit out of his new sandbag. Not out of anger, he just needed to burn off some extra energy. Loud rock music flooded the place, the lights flickered like a strobe, making his senses work that much harder to avoid getting waylaid by the moving bag. Ah, nice. Ducking and whirling, he sent fists and feet into the swinging bag, accentuating his moves with feints and darts, utilizing his skills to keep them at the razor’s edge. So deep in his concentration was he that he didn’t even notice the light noise of the lift’s gears.




Douglass : Douglass couldn't help but laugh at Lucille's audacity, and the smile felt good. She hadn't really smiled in who knew how long. "Nice to see you too Lucy." Douglass settled her bike next to the Durango; Damn I forgot that was here. Going straight to the lift, Lucille again anticipated her move and descended her deeper into the belly of the complex. "How have you been Lucy?" "Everything is running as normal." "Dante being good to you?" "He keeps leaving filthy garments in my washing machine." Douglass laughed again, "Well he is a man Lucy, and you can't blame him for that." "You might be right Douglass; but as long as it's my washing machine, he'll clean it out." Douglass laughed even harder now; wondering if Lucille would be so brave when Dante was actually around. "Where is the fiend anyway?" "Dante is downstairs working out; shall I inform him that you are looking for him?" "No thanks Lucy, I'd like to grab a shower first." "Very well." As the lift settled to the third floor, Douglass stepped into the hall, nothing looked as though it'd changed. Walking quickly to her room, she looked about; nothing had changed. Bed was still half ass made, clothes still hung in the closet just as before, and even the duffel bags were unmoved. Well, this proves he respects privacy, or he's just really good at putting stuff back. Dropping the current duffle bag onto the bed, she pulled open the zipper, selecting a comfortable pair of dark blue jeans and a long-sleeved white top as well as fresh undergarments she went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Starting up the water, she stripped, giving the water just enough time to get warm. Slipping in under the shower head, she immediately washed her hair, something about having demon guts strewn in there didn't sit well with her. All in all, the shower took her ten minutes, if even that. Toweling dry, she dressed quickly; pulling a comb through her hair she left it wild, not bothering to tie it back. Bare feet padded lightly down the hall, stopping in the kitchen to grab some water; after pulling a bottle for herself, she thought for a moment, and then grabbed two more for Dante. Opting to take the stairs, she could hear the music long before reaching the bottom floor. Opening the door slowly, eyes were immediately thrown off guard for a minute, "Holy shit." She shielded them for a moment with her forearm, giving them time to adjust. It took a long minute but finally she felt comfortable enough to remove the blockade. "Having fun?" she took a long drink from her designated water bottle.




Somewhere in the back part of his brain, he heard the door to the stairs behind him open, then close. Hn, seemed she’d managed to make her way down here. He wasn’t really surprised she’d shown up; where else was she gonna go? But he kept to his work, not willing to leave anything half-assed done. The strobe lights continued to flicker and writhe, throwing wild shadows around the massive arena. He heard her question, but opted not to answer until done. Lucille didn’t lower the music, she knew better than to do so until he finished. Throwing a few more punches and ducking the backswing of the massive bag, he bent knees and jumped, spinning around with a savage back-kick, sending his heel flying into the sandbag, making it slap the ceiling opposite him, the chain rattling. Landing, he rolled away from the swinging thing, brushing sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Retrieving a towel from the bench near the wall, he mopped his face, hair and neck, emerging from beneath the cotton with a grin. “Pretty much, yeah. It doesn’t hit back, so it’s not as much of a challenge, but it works in a pinch.” He nodded towards the slowing bag. “This one’s pretty good. I usually go through about two a month, just don’t hold up worth a shit.”




Douglass : "Doubt their graded for inhuman strength." She tossed one of the water bottles to him, and set the other two onto the bench. Walking over to the still swinging bag, she caught it with one hand, slowing the swing even further. Eyes trailed over its sleek and now moist surface; imprints and dimpling in the bags outer lining indicated the most recent punches and kicks. "Let's see if I got this straight," even in the strobe light she was able to make out a pattern, taking a step back, she threw first a punch, then a knee, two more punches, a round kick, more punching and so on. It wasn't perfectly the way he'd just done it, hell she'd never get the bag swinging like that; but for the most part she was on. The air downstairs had already been thick and hot, it was easy for beads of sweat to start forming on her brow; shit I just showered, oh well. Finishing with the same back kick as she'd just witnessed; chest heaving up and down, she smirked at the bag; "Damn that felt good."




Dante chortled, catching the water bottle and taking a long deep pull. “Hm, probably not,” he agreed, recapping the bottle. “Kill the lights, Lucille,” he instructed and the music and rattling lights immediately ceased, the more familiar cool white filling the arena. “Better?” he asked, sauntering over to his bench and straddling it easily, wiping again at his face and neck, draping the towel over bare shoulders. Grinning a bit at her futility to move the thing, he just crossed arms and nodded. “Does, don’t it? Nice for taking out aggression.” Taking another draught of the bottle, he asked, “I’m guessing your organization training consisted of mostly self-defense and basic martial arts, hm? Well,” he said, getting to his feet and dropping the towel, “that’s all well and good for humans, but demons,” he said, indicating the red scratches on her arms, “are quite different.” Crossing to stand in front of her on the tumbling mat, he went on, “Their reflexes are much faster and harder, as you’ve seen, so you better be able to counter ‘em, or turn and run like hell. That takes honing and harder training.”




Douglass : Eyebrows lifted high on a sweaty forehead, "Are you implying that I'd run? Come on Dante, I'd thought you have figured me out better than that by now." One corner of her mouth curled into a smirk; "I can only learn by experience, like you so eloquently put it; each one is different and there are no rules right?" Stop it Douglass; her mind screamed; don't patronize. "The ones tonight, the ones I dealt with, they were the easy ones weren't they?" As he stood across from her, her muscles tensed slightly, sensory cells standing at a tension ready to detect any change and act accordingly.




“I didn’t say that. But when the situation dictates, I’m not gonna stand my ass around and get clobbered. A smart hunter knows when to fight and when to run, Douglass; it’s called survival.” He took hold of the bag, swinging it lightly from arm to arm. “And yeah, those were minor demons. The big one I killed couldn’t have been high up on the ladder; it was almost too easy.” A brow furrowed. “But I guess a baby disciple can’t call the big boys. Thank Christ.” But he suddenly shoved the bag at her; the thing weighed over a hundred pounds and swung fast and low on its chain. “Block it,” he ordered.




Douglass : Forearms came up in a criss cross, one leg stepped back for leverage; he didn't need to order, it was reflex. The bag hit hard, but her arms absorbed most of the impact, however the force behind it was still enough to send her tottering back slightly, a quick fix but still. As the bag swung back towards where Dante was standing, arms moved forward, right had was in perfect backhand position, left could easily be brought down further for a good upper cut; also the leg that had been used for leverage was flexed, ready for a pivot or a swing to ones knees.




He caught the swinging bag easily, knowing she would have blocked it without his direction. Such was her former training. Running a hand through his hair to the back of his neck, he admitted ruefully, “I’m not much of a teacher, I know. Mostly it’s just stay outta my way, watch what I do and don’t get killed. It’s natural for me, hunting. I share the same blood, so I can sort of understand the mindset. That’s how you hunt. You have to know your prey; how they think, how they move, how they feel.” He shrugged. “And that can’t be taught. At least, I can’t. But if you want to hunt, watch closely, cause it happens fast. I’d recommend upping the workouts you do, put on some more muscle and tighten up. Push harder than you ever have before, cause if you don’t, redline.”




Douglass : She nodded to his words, the night had proven that even though she was in top physical condition, it still wasn't good enough. Muscles easing, she turned and walked to the center of the tumbling mat; turning on heel, her muscles tightened as she took a stance, ready for engagement. "There is only one way for me to learn, and I'll be damned if I wait until it counts. Step up Dante, step up and teach me." It wasn't a challenge, not really. Dee knew what she needed, and she needed it now. Two weeks with nothing more than jogging and cliff scaling left plenty of desire for a good weight session, or some martial arts.




So be it. His lips twitched and he nodded assent, striding to the center opposite her. Three seconds later found her flat on her back after being cartwheeled nearly to the other side of the arena. “First step,” he told her, “expect the unexpected. I’m a lot faster than you are at the moment, so watch.” Bouncing on his heels, he brought up his hands, rolling shoulders as he flexed fingers. “Get up, Douglass; try to hit me.” He watched her warily, knowing she was at least unpredictable as he and wondered if she’d try to rush him.




Douglass : As soon as she hit the floor, she was back on her feet. Legs flexed and stooped low, she was ready for an advance from him. Hmm… how to do this, he was facing her and she had no element of surprise, there was really only one way; a rush and that was totally impractical. If it would have been a demon, it'd have rushed her by now, but now she was on that end, being forced to make the advance. Legs pumping hard, she moved in, not quite at full speed, but not moving all that slow either. To his eyes, she knew, she was moving in slow motion, hopefully this would work. When within a few feet of him, she dropped, ducking below any high ranged punches, and sliding along side, a strong leg came back behind her opponent, and would catch him behind the knee dropping him to the ground.




Indeed watching her closely, he let her get close, even allowed the leg behind his knees. But before she could drop him on his ass, he bent knees and leaped, handspringing forward and away, one heel catching her shoulder as he flipped. Completing the move, he landed on his feet and turned, once more hands placed before him in a ready stance. “Come on, Douglass, hit me.”




Douglass : As she predicted, this was going to be hard; but she was more then ready for the challenge. Springing into action, she advanced, moving just as fast as before, then when close enough, she pushed harder, moving faster than she had previously been. Swinging a leg high, she ducked down, knowing he would dodge a head shot, so instead of actually trying to kick him, her leg landed behind her, her body doing a three-sixty she used the same leg to push forward, a shoulder would plant firmly in his midsection.




Dante did indeed duck the leg aimed for his nose, but he didn’t rise immediately, just let her bull her way forward. As her shoulder moved into crush his sternum, he merely snaked an arm under hers and spun her around, slamming her back into his chest. Shoving his arm forward, he lifted her arm higher, bending her shoulder at an unnatural angle. Thwarting her kicking him, he wedged her knees apart and wrapped his calf around her shin, balancing her precariously on one foot. If she moved in any direction, her shoulder might pop out of socket. As well as her hip, so splayed sideways was her leg. “Got to be fast, Douglass,” he chuckled at her ear.




Douglass : "Or smart," she dared the injury, free leg kicking up her midsection, fucking jeans. They weren't flexible enough to let her kick as high as she wanted, but it was enough to get a toe to Dante's head. Arm did in fact pop out of socket, but as her leg fell back towards the ground, the arm replaced itself; good limb.




He was caught off guard just enough to jerk his head back and grunt, but retaliated by simply kicking that foot out from under her and planting her on her nose at his feet. He bent over to peer at the arm. “Or crazy,” he replied with a snort. Straightening, he stepped back and walked to the bench for his water bottle. “Better ice that. Otherwise it’ll be somewhat intolerably painful later on.”




Douglass : "Shit happens," she commented, picking herself up off the floor, rubbing the shoulder tenderly. Damn, it hurt; but she wouldn't admit it to him; not like she was any stranger to pain, or to dislocated limbs. Rolling the shoulder slightly to make sure it was nestled back in the right place, pain radiated down the arm and side of her body. Nothing more than a slight wince. "Good job, Douglass." Lucille chimed in, throwing Dee slightly off guard. "Thanks Lucy, was that sarcasm?" "Negative," Douglass rolled her eyes. "You have any suggestions for a workout?" the question was directed at Dante as she walked slowly to the bench, fetching her own water bottle. It would be obvious that she was babying the arm, but she just ignored it.




Well, if she could stand the pain, so could he; wasn’t his arm. “Running helps. It’ll build up your wind and muscle tone essentially. Shadowboxing or kickboxing works too. Run the obstacle course on different settings.” He indicated the other side of the arena which was covered with what looked like a city block, countless training setups within. “Lucille can set the levels for you and run you through the course. Use the laser guns for ammo, though. I don’t want to have to clean up the mess after every session,” he chuckled with a wink. “But anyway, work on your weaknesses, keep up your strengths.” That said, he retrieved his towel and water, meandering slowly to the stairs and second level, planning for a long leisurely shower and nap.




Douglass : Turning to look at the obstacle course, she smirked. Shoulder hurt, but what was a little pain? "What do you say Lucy, up for a run?" "If you are Douglass." "I'm always ready." So they started, Douglass requested the easiest level, would be a good way to start, have Lucille run a diagnostics on her maneuvers and spot her strengths and weaknesses for her; you never always recognize your own weaknesses. So it went, Douglass still babying the injured arm, but she managed through it. No pain no gain; between the two of them, they conceived a well detailed workout plan, but Douglass decided it better to start tomorrow, give her arm a little time to tighten back up. Taking the stairs as well, her body was sore and she felt tired; damn it felt so good. She was sweaty all over, good thing she didn't stink much when she sweated. Dante was already locked away in his room, shrugging she went to her own, time for yet another shower. Making it a quick one, she dressed this time in a workout suit. Going to the kitchen, she fetched a bag of ice, returning to her room yet again, she sprawled out on the bed; the ice gently soothing away the pain.




Locked away, but not asleep. After his languid shower, the devil hunter felt worlds better. His shoulders ached a bit with the build up of lactic acid, but it would ease eventually. He lay propped with an arm beneath his head, idly reading from the open volume before him. Plato, in the original Greek. He liked the philosophers; they thought they had everything figured out. But it was interesting reading nonetheless. Amusing, if nothing else. Yawning, he looked at the clock. Bloody three am. The witching hour, belike. Simply dropping the book to the floor, he flopped on his stomach, pulled up the sheets, killed the lights and drifted off into his ritual slumber, throwing up reflexive shields to guard against nightmares.




Douglass : After about fifteen minutes of icing, she removed it. Laying flat on her back she thought over the weeks to come; so long as things remained quiet she'd be fine; the work outs were going to kick her ass; oh well, decent advancement meant sacrifice. After about twenty minutes without the ice, she repeated the icing process and let it sit upon her shoulder for another fifteen minutes. After that she placed the melting ice bag into the sink of her bathroom. Lying on the bed, she wasn't quite sure when she'd drifted off to sleep, but it happened.


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