Companions (not sure yet)

Author's note: Dante does not belong to me, unfortunately...>.> The folks at Capcom will NOT share, no matter HOW nicely I ask. Lucas and Jayden do, however, and please forgive any errors found, no one's perfect and some of us don't have professional editors yet, lol. Set sometime between Game One and Game Two, and yes, I took a few liberties with the story, I know, but they fit, so 's cool. Anyway, enjoy! ^_^




It had to be the leather, she thought as she sat across the room, idly cleaning one of her pistols. Jayden McAlister watched with more than passing interest at the two men sparring across the room, seemingly fully intent on killing the other. Lucas Whitt and Dante were throwing punches and kicks that would take out a dragon, the blows landing across ribs, knees, backs, shoulders, and every other conceivable body part the human frame possessed. She snorted; she’d no doubt be listening to both of them whine something terrible after ice and ace bandages were applied. But for the nonce, she could lean against the wall and watch in idle fascination, truly indulging in the clean precision of the male form, tempered steel and flesh, honed to razor sharpness. Quite nice, that, she thought with a small smile, watching the lights of the arena slither over sweat-slicked skin, plastering the slick fabric to tight muscles. Both men were in prime condition, athleticism being a job requirement, of an equal height, though Lucas was a bit more willowy, even sinewy, than his platinum haired opponent. Jayden didn’t mind, though. Both were eye-candy of the first degree, and she got to feast every day. There were a few perks to her life, it seemed.


Though of late she’d found her eyes straying to the half-demon hunter whenever she wasn’t paying attention to her brain’s direction, much to her semi-chagrin. Hunters both, they’d started out trying to kill each other. Jayden hunted devils, and in Dante’s veins there flowed the very highest blood of that world. His father had been Sparda, a prince of the demon world, who had brought justice to the underworld and married a human woman and fathered twin sons. Dante continued his father’s work on this plane of existence, hunting the demons what threatened the human race. He had lost his family at a young age to the hordes of devils, and Jayden herself had suffered tremendous losses in her life as well. Thus she wasn’t very keen on working with a half-demon prince. They clashed more than agreed, and often Lucas had to intercede and regain the peace, although even he’d grown annoyed and exasperated with both’s stubbornness.


When she first arrived in the city, Jayden had been reeling from the death of her brother Jacksom, the other part of herself, her partner in hunting. They had grown up together, orphans both, and trained together under the same master. He’d been the brawn, she the quick brain. But he and her unborn children had fallen victim to the vicious demon hordes that looted and pillaged the great Eastern cities. She’d stumbled across Lucas, a dear old friend from days long passed, and fallen in with the mercenary and the devil hunter, having nowhere else to go. Thus here she sat, quietly cleaning her guns, watching them try to beat the hell out of each other. And yet again, she found her eyes staring at the white-haired half-demon, who just sent his fist into Lucas’s chin, sending the slightly taller man sprawling. She snickered, seeing Lucas scrambling to recover before he got pummeled again. But Dante only laughed, tossing his head to free his eyes from their shade of white strands, the blue eyes blazing with mirth and adrenaline.


Oh yeah, she thought a bit breathlessly, it had to be the leather…red leather that rode across those slim hips, encasing powerful legs that fairly reeked of toned muscle. Quite against her will, green eyes wandered, slithering over broad bare shoulders, gleaming with sweat, to the corded arms that swung the heavy blade even she had difficulty picking up, with casual ease. Strong hands sporting fingerless gloves raked through the tousled platinum strands, also shining dark with exertion. Eyes traveled over the bare chest and flat muscled stomach, ending at the snap of those damnable crimson leather pants, even as she flushed as she realized she’d been ogling and hurriedly returned her eyes to her lap, where her hands held her gun, quite motionless. God, she thought irritably, get a grip, Jayden.


She heard Lucas swear as his foot slipped and Dante’s answering laugh, which made her look up, cheeks still flaming, she just knew. Lucas had tripped over his own feet; he was used to snipering, not physical combat, and had stumbled over Dante’s outstretched foot. But the former government operative still knew how to street-fight, should he have to, and he growled back and charged once more, the two colliding with a huge boom that echoed off the arena. Next thing Jayden saw, Dante was doing a fairly spectacular cartwheel across the mat and Lucas was bent over his knees, laughing his head off. The other hunter finally came out of his roll, shook his head, bellowed like a charging bull and thundered back across the floor, taking Lucas in the stomach with one broad shoulder. Lucas, who was still blinded by his laughter tears, had the breath knocked out of him by the other and went flying. Jayden laughed; she couldn’t help it. Shaking her head, she got to her feet, taking her weapons and making for the stairwell. She’d seen this before, it was nothing new.


Once upstairs, she finished cleaning her guns and was just taking her shamshir from its sheath when something stopped her. A little niggle of mischief crept into her brain, and even though she knew it was a really bad idea, she couldn’t help putting down her sword and tiptoeing down the hall to Dante’s room. Where his own blade was kept, she knew. The mighty Alastor. Lucas had told her a demoness lived in the steel that had bonded with Dante when he acquired it. Apparently when he found the powerful blade, it had impaled him of its own will, judged his blood worthy, and rejuvenated his life, allowing the demon powers that resided in the hunter to be brought to light, his father’s power.


Opening the door to the huge master bedroom, he’d converted the general’s quarters of this abandoned military base to his own personal habitat it seemed, she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness within. Easing inside and closing the door softly, she took a few moments to look around, feeling terribly nosy, but she couldn’t help it, she was curious about the sword. Sending her eyes around the room, she noted with little surprise the huge bed, it took up most of the far wall, but her brows rose indeed seeing the burgundy silken sheets that were strewn about the mattress, along with the black comforter and pillows. Seems Dante was a bit of a restless sleeper. Mentally slapping herself at such a damning image, she moved on, feet moving quietly over the thick carpet. The monster bathroom too was dark and cool, and the furniture sparse, although there were several books strewn about the lamp stand beside the bed. It made her snicker to envision Dante reading in bed. Right.


But her goal was just across the room, mounted on an ornate stand which graced the dark walls. The Alastor rested in its cradle, the gleaming blade seeming to glow with its own light, or was just that her imagination? Both, probably, she decided with a small gulp. The handle, twisted metal of unknown design, and pommel, two huge wings, either demon or dragon, she wasn’t sure, led to the huge blade emerging from a demon’s maw, nearly five feet of living steel, embedded with the life of Sparda’s son, it having bonded with his blood and even possessed an intelligence of its own, she imagined. She stood just in front of the display stand, quietly admiring the huge instrument, when a few faint flickers of violet flittered down the gilded steel. Jayden blinked. The sword possessed the power of lightening, and she had seen it zap demons before. She had no intention of sharing that little sensation. Taking a step back, she gasped slightly as another ripple of energy flickered down the blade, bright in the dark room. Her brain began to pulse in response to a demonic presence, her alarm was going off. Damn it, this had been such a bad idea, she chided herself as the sword pulsed once more, as if in alert to her presence.


But after a few moments, the sword quieted and her little alarm bell fell quiet, if not silent, then no longer blaring. She could, thanks to that little gift, sense Dante still below with Lucas, the sense was vague, for his demon blood wasn’t invoked at presence, but he could still cause her headaches by just being in the same room as she. And delighted in it, no doubt, she thought sourly. A flash of violet answered her thought, as if sharing her annoyance. Jayden blinked then smiled slightly. Hmm, another female who grew exasperated with the princeling. She bit her lip, so tempted to reach out one finger and touch the gleaming steel; she had long been appreciative of fine blades, and this was one of the finest she’d ever seen in all her life. But to do so invited not only the wrath of the Alastor, but Dante as well; he was overly picky of his ‘babies’, as he styled them. Including the sword.


But the flickers, which had resumed, were now soft and inviting, a soft glow in the dark room, bathing her face in gentle amethyst light. Her feet moved forward involuntarily and an arm lifted, fingertips hovering just over the edge of the pommel and soft light reached from the blade to touch her hand, making her stifle a yelp. She’d expected a jolt, but what was received was smooth warmth, bubbling almost She gasped softly in wonder and let her fingers move through that light until they touched the blade, the steel reflected in her wide green eyes. There came a soft chattering in her ears, not evil or hostile, but almost quirky and childish. But gradually, to her regret, the voice faded as her alarm bells began ringing in earnest and before she could duck for cover, dive into the bathroom, melt into the carpet, fade into oblivion, or even turn around, the bedroom door opened and Dante strode in, hitting the lights and illuminating the room in soft golden light. Surprise lightened bright cerulean orbs to colors rivaling the skies as he stopped short and just stared at her, she doing the same, wide emeralds reminiscent of a deer caught in high beams. But a slow grin began to curve his lips as he asked softly, with that growl in his voice that had just now started to melt her knees, “Jayden…what are you doing in my bedroom?”