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Post by Dante on Jul 4, 2016 19:35:42 GMT -7
Not the first to hear about the theft, but early enough that it appeared the thieves didn't know anyone was on to them. Or they were just that cocky. He wondered to himself if it were the same cocky bastard that was getting sloppy with his killings too, perhaps getting bored with easy prey. It wouldn't surprise him in the least. The door was left open, the fading light barely illuminating the central annex, to his left a motorcycle half hidden behind the stairs next to a bush in great need of trimming. He walked lightly as he entered, avoiding piles of scattered leaves and papers, luckily the windows were clean enough to let in just enough light to see the way. He had to give the Order credit, they definitely let the place look abandoned, the evidence of frequent use was clear to his keen eye though. The lack of dust on the doors and walkways, fresh soot in the oil lanterns that lined the lower halls. And the slightly lingering smell of smoke from extinguished candles.
No, the Order still used the Citadel, they just preferred their new found secrecy. He hadn't even heard from his nefew in quite some time, he wasn't sure if that should concern him or not. He stopped at the sound of a voice and a soft shuffling further down the hall. Slowly, quietly, he unholstered Ebony from his hip, covering her workings as he cocked her slide and disengaged the safety. Dante stepped as close as he dared to the wall, without stepping on any debris that might signal his presence and tip-toed around the bend to look ahead.
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damon
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Post by damon on Jul 4, 2016 20:18:16 GMT -7
What a cache, the bundle on the table in front of the being was the crème of the crop according to this list in hand. In the other hand, it held a small flame at the tip of a finger reading off the names of the weapons on the table.
"A bladed whip made from a Chimera, A scythe from a Scarecrow, a Gladius blade," This one looked over the latter, shaking a head at the massive man-made thing,stepping around the table continuing, "A shield, sword and helm from an Assault demon?" It lifted the helm, the feathers and beak like design seemed so trifling. but on this one went to the last item circled. This name on the list, a katana, that intrigued. The being had heard the name before, seen the blade before but just couldn't place it. Pulled from the sheathe it sang, and glistened in the small firelight.
"Who did you belong to my beauty," The being cooed to the exquisite blade, "You're not like the others, I wonder, how you would sing in my hand." Sliding her back into the sheathe Damon set Yamato back on the table to be bundled in the duffle bag laid there.
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Post by Sparda on Jul 4, 2016 20:36:25 GMT -7
The bladesong in the room beside him drew the disguised Dark Knight from his book. He had been amusing himself with books that some historian had written, regailing and sometimes exaggerating his exploits. Slipping a piece of silk ribbon into the book as a bookmark, he set it upon the table and moved toward the door.
A creak, followed by soft footsteps and the soft tap of an expertly crafted mahogany cane left the room. Hunched over with the telltale curve of scoliosis, the bearded man stood watching the youth admire Yamato. His true features shrouded by a white, hooded robe, belted together at the waist by a golden sash, he couldn't help but frown. He tapped the staff on the floor.
"Young man," creaked the practiced 'old man' voice, "what are you doing here? This place is off limits." He stood, leaning ever-so-slightly on the staff, watching for the youth's reaction.
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Post by Dante on Jul 4, 2016 20:53:02 GMT -7
He had managed to stay hidden in the bend of the hall, cursing under his breath as the old man walked into the room to scold what he could feel was a well fed and high powered demon. Trying to stay as quiet as he'd been Dante made his way to the door. He could see the shape of the old man in the tiny flickering light, oh the things he did for humanity. After a deep breath, he stepped out of the darkness just behind the old man, making a quick assessment of the room, it's size the demon's small boyish appearance, which had to be a farce from the sheer amount of energy and bloodlust radiating off of him. Then the weapons in the bag. His brother's sword, the real thing, sitting there on top.
He frowned at it, that couldn't be right. The kid was supposed to be taking care of it, keeping it safe, in the family. That fight would have to be saved for another day, at the moment this old man was in over his head, or so he thought.
"Gramps, this may not be the kid you want to pick a fight with today." He glared at the demon across from them, taking a step toward them both, hoping to get between them before the demon made its move.
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damon
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Post by damon on Jul 4, 2016 21:22:41 GMT -7
Little by little the grin on its face grew, why if it wasn't another meal, a tough old bird, but a meal nonetheless. As the being prepared to take a step towards his snack, there was another, just as the mouth had begun to water, the prodigal son himself walked into the room. It could feel the power coming off of the half breed, that oh so protective nature for these weak and pitiful humans.
Its grin spread wider, no longer fitting properly on the carefully crafted face, and teeth grew serated and long. Burning red it's eyes became, locking gaze with this son of Sparda's, it watched the fear in those eyes grow. Oh how delectable this two course meal would be. Staring still it snapped its fingers.
In what would appear a puff of smoke the tiny flame vanished, as well as the form of the young man. With the skittering of sand darkness spun itself a wall around the old man. A deep graveled cackle rolled from the spiral as a pair or glowing red eyes and gaping, drooling, jagged toothed mouth formed itself. Eye gaping, looking for the fear in the old man's eyes, that fatal flaw that struck all of the being's victims.
All this on the inside. While those eyes and mouth formed opposite the demon hunter on the exterior of the funnel.
"well if it isn't the son of Sparda come ot save the day," The deep voice rolled in menace, "If only you were actually any good at saving anyone." The great imitator that it was the being created echoes of voices calling out for help under the sounds of gun shots and sword strikes. Then the voice of this old man, crying out in pain.
With one last cackle it left the hunter in the dark to focus harder on the old man, who seemed harder to crack that all who had come before.
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Post by Sparda on Jul 4, 2016 21:42:23 GMT -7
Sparda stared into the red eyes of the shadow-thing, a look akin to boredom in his almost-white eyes. With a set of pops, the man stood up straight. He reached forward in an attempt to siphon some of the shadow energy put off by the swirling vortex around him. With his other hand, he held his cane-staff upside down and in a guarding stance, as though it were an expertly crafted, one-handed blade.
As some of his vitality returned to him, the hood whipped back to reveal a head of messy, white hair to match the snowy beard. Eyes returned to their icy blue glared with a piercing ferocity into the ruby orbs belonging to the demon with the jagged grin, and his demonic aura flared as he drew ever more strength from the residual power left by the demon's form.
His voice, now sounding like some mixture of Dante's timbre with Vergil's mannerisms, rang out clearly in the room. "You'll have to do better than that if you want my fear, hellspawn. I've brought down demons that would haunt you in your worst of nightmares."
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damon
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Post by damon on Jul 4, 2016 22:10:51 GMT -7
This couldn't be right, the being was certain this wasn't happening, it felt it's power draining. All of that feeding he had done, that energy was being sapped away by this disgusting..... It was then that Damon felt it. The rising energy before him had been forgotten, yet here stood a demon that should have been dead long ago, Here in the human realm of all places. Everything came together, the sword, the hunter... and here... the father... all three were in the same room. This one knew he had no chance against these odds.
In a panicked swirl it reverted back into solid form to regain a hold on his energy, though this one hadn't realized how fast and hard it had made the shift and stumbled back into the bookshelf. It was this one's turn to show fear as his eyes grew wide looking from father to son and back again. The form bolted across the room for an air vent, swan diving into it with another puff of smoke.
This one swore to itself and to its masters, it would come for them again, just not all at once. No one could stand against those odds.
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Post by Dante on Jul 4, 2016 22:21:01 GMT -7
shit. the word repeated itself in his head as the creature engulfed the old man. He hadn't been fast enough, and now the demon was goading him. He didn't know if he should be annoyed or pissed. He didn't really get the chance to decide before he felt a new energy take its place, the smoke vanished and the young man was standing there again, only it was him that looked terrified. It wasn't until after the demon ran away and he turned his perplexed gaze to the man left behind. Wasn't until he realized the old man, didn't look so old, stood straighter, and looked damn familiar. If he didn't know better he would have thought it was still a trick, he;; he wasn't sure he even knew better.
All he could do was stare, gaping at the man standing across from him, "but you're...." After all this time, he had learned the hard way not to trust his eyes. He once had thought he'd seen his mother and look how that turned out for him. This would be a new trick any demon had dared to play on him. His grip on Ebony tightened in his hand hanging at his side, ready to raise and fire in a blink.
"You left. You're dead." He glared hard at the demon before him, refusing to be fooled again, "You have five seconds before I fill you with holes."
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Post by Sparda on Jul 4, 2016 23:21:27 GMT -7
Sparda stopped, turning before his son. He placed the cane on the floor, looking over him a moment with the slightest hint of wonder. "Dante, my boy..."
He paused, seeing the look on the red-clad man's face. "I was dead. At least, I thought I was. I left to keep Mundus away from your mother and you two. I succeeded, for a time. But on your eighth birthday, despite my best efforts, his scouts found your home."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I went to head them off, to finish Mundus and his legions once and for all. Unfortunately for me, sealing Temen Ni Gru and the nearby gate took most of my power. I was overwhelmed, and struck down."
He sighed, pacing ever so slightly.
"I thought that I was dead. I was in some sort of fever dream, until Temen Ni Gru and the nearby gate were awakened. Breaking the seals returned my power to me, though I didn't awaken until about six months ago. I went to find you three, not knowing how long it had been." He leaned on the wall, head down, and his voice cracked. "I found the house in rubble, parts still stinking of hellfire..." He paused, regaining composure. "I failed Eva, I failed Vergil, and I failed you, Dante. I thought it had cost me everything."
He paused, hands balling into fists on the brick before him.
"I was lost to torment for a long time, until I heard that you and Vergil were grown, protecting humanity as I once did. I didn't seek you out because I didn't think I could face you two, knowing that I let you all down as I did. Would you hate me? Would you understand? Would you be better off thinking I was dead? After all these years..."
He turned, looking to Dante.
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Post by Dante on Jul 5, 2016 22:38:50 GMT -7
He listened with a clenched jaw, the energy was too familiar, settled too well, this was actually his father standing before him. After all this time, all the years he had gone through life assuming he had been the one to lose everything. He never stopped to wonder, to question. He'd been there, on the brink of hell, where he failed his own brother. Then again when he believed he'd killed his own brother. Still, he couldn't imagine how that felt. though the thought of his brother protecting humanity made him chuckle.
"Heh, you probably wouldn't be so proud if you knew the details, and Vergil, well...," He returned the safety lock and slipped Ebony back into the holster on the back of his hip. At his brother's name though he turned again to the blade on the table across the room."He is more interested in his own gain that the fate of the human realm." He went to it, picking up the blade, examining it. With a heavy sigh he turned and sat on the edge of the nearest table, there was so much more to say, if only he knew how to put the words together. How funny, he the one with the quick wit sitting here with not a comment to say. Well, he needed to say something.
"I don't know about him, but I don't hate you. I can't say I understand, but from where I'm sitting now I would probably make the same decisions you did." Running a hand through his own mop he stood again, "It hasn't been easy, and from my experience, it never really will be." He moved to head for the door.
"We can talk more, if you want to come," he stopped in the doorway, "I need food and a drink, you could probably use one too." He glanced back looking the man up and down. "And maybe a change of clothes. unless you're staying in this dump." He glanced around before turning to walk down the hall. He needed to move his feet, before his head ran away without him. What a great conversation starter this will be, 'Hey everybody I found my dead dad!' The thought alone was giving him a headache.
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Post by Sparda on Jul 7, 2016 23:18:52 GMT -7
Sparda paused a moment, listening to his son's words. He frowned slightly, but let out a sigh of relief from a breath he didn't realize he was holding. At the offer of a change of venue, he chuckled lightly.
"No, I think I've outstayed my welcome here." He moved to the bundle of weapons, putting them in the bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.
"Lead the way, my boy."
Not quite on his heels, but not lagging behind, father followed son out of the hallowed halls of what remained of the Order.
[EXIT]
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I liiiiiiiiiive!
