madxhatterxteapot
Junior Member
"You wish…to terminate your contract with us?" Tired steel blue eyes glanced up from the piece of paper in his hands. They locked with the emerald green of the young woman in front of him, regarding her for a moment as though she were a specimen. These matters were tedious and boring. He expected her to scurry around fearful enough considering her constant anxiety, but a legality was an interesting move. He didn't quite think she'd had the gall to do so. Leaning back in his seat, Walter Mundy regarded his client for a moment as well as the older short-haired woman seated next to her and the young man that was their lawyer.
His position was slightly bent as he sat, gaze skimming over the document once more. As old as he was, his hearing was still sharp and he listened to the tap of the young woman's fingers against her lap while she signed to the redhead seated opposite of her. "Mr. Mundy," Maxwell Borenstein cleared his throat and nodded to the young woman. "My client is prepared to go to court and we are willing to litigate this problem for as long as possible, long enough to give your music company a bad name, as well as decrease the sales of your currently scheduled performances."
The old man's lip twitched in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Hands folding together, Walter Mundy tilted his head to the side at the young woman gazing back at him with a serious expression. His gaze lingered on her furrowed brow and the corner of her mouth twitching in annoyance. It gave him great pleasure at her discomfort. "Miss Wild…" He uttered, his voice was scratchy, almost like sandpaper. "We've been over this, darling-" The Maestro stopped short when he saw the older woman scoot her chair closer.
She had the same expression as his agitator. Despite the flecks of white appearing in her hair, the "guardian" was stoic and not amused at his treatment. Her tone was quick to have a sharp bite to it. "I'd keep your tongue dry and words civil. My niece certainly don't approve a this shit and neither do I."
His hands folded on the desk and the corner of his lips twitched slightly in amusement. "While this is all good and fun, Miss Wild and Mrs. Tisdale, I have a rather busy schedule to attend to as Miss Wild is aware of from her time in our orchestra. Or…has it slipped your mind, darling?" There it was again, that slimy remark.
Her mind was elsewhere in that moment, despite all of her focus on the man in front of her. Her hands clenched at her sides. She did not see Walter Mundy in the present. She saw his visage in her imagination now as it reeled back to a childhood memory. A monster begging for its life as a bigger one savaged it. It's gaping jowls, dripping, with and unhinged, maw. Razor sharp teeth gleamed blood in the moonlight, but the gaze of the bigger one never left hers.
The phrase uttered by her employer brought her back to the present though and she found her gumption again. Her knees shook in her seat and despite every fiber of her being telling her to run, the building pressure in her gut, she maintained her ground on the issue.
Dark chocolate waves shook from her head, pulled back into a half-bun, her shifting facial expressions said it all whilst Mara Wild signed her hands at him vehemently. "I'm not your "darling", Mr. Mundy. I am also not bound to you because you deem to "will" it on paper that has the mad basis that is the same as a contract with the Church of Scientology."
Sighing, he ran his hand over his face, and inhaled sharply. Ah, to be compared to another egregious mortal cult was both in itself an insult and a compliment . "Miss Wild, we have been over this many times. When you first signed your contract with us, the print was very clear. You would carry it out until you planned to retire." He watched as the young man at her side with his curly blonde hair and crisp business attire fished around for some paperwork and then chimed in.
Maxwell Borenstein may have looked like any ordinary lawyer, but he had a few tricks up his sleeves. "And while that may be true that she signed the contract within your employment, it is, in fact, illegal to sign life contracts. Might I also add you did so illegally considering she was a minor at the time." The click of a briefcase opened and Walter Mundy was served a manila folder, glaring at the brown-eyed attorney with his mouth tightened into a thin line. No sooner had the plain little folder come into view, Walter Mundy felt the energy coursing from it. Ah. He was that kind of lawyer. "Please, Mr. Mundy. We can make this legal issue very ugly…my firm and I are known for dealing with…difficult people like yourselves. By difficult I mean-"
"Despicable? Deplorable? Devious?" He was looking for a different word but Maxwell wasn't going to buy into it or at least adhere to another type of quarrel Walter Mundy wanted to initiate. At this, the Maestro regarded the lawyer with a pleasant smile and he turned it on the girl instead. "Well, Miss Wild. We don't want things to be messy now do we and it seems I underestimated you."
"We don't take lightly to threats in this family, Mr. Mundy. It's best ya remember that now." The terseness of the older woman's tone cut through Walter Mundy's attempts to "appease" the situation. Ah, yes the aunt. Carol Tisdale had always been a thorn in his side from the day they scoped out Mara's talents and he couldn't shake her, nor could he get rid of her either. She might have been donned in hospital scrubs during this meeting and looked seemingly harmless, but no one associated with the girl was ever anything but a threat.
Hands folded in her lap, Mara blinked at Walter Mundy, and regarded him with indifference. Her gaze never leaving his face for her glare was as livid as her posture in the chair. She watched as he took out his fancy pen from his breast pocket and signed the papers, thrusting them back to the lawyer.
"Pleasure resolving this issue Mr. Mundy," Maxwell responded curtly, but judging by his tone, the attorney knew this wasn't going to be so easy. Rising from the chair, he gestured to the girl to usher her towards the door with the older woman. "We keep this quiet now sir and perhaps this can be settled in a civil trial instead of a criminal proceeding."
"Of course, I certainly hope there are no hard feelings Miss Wild." Walter Mundy addressed her with a mock bow and extended his hand for her to shake, but she didn't return the gesture. Oh no. She had given him enough of her time he imagined, but she would still have more to give it would be in time. He was patient. He could wait.
Standing from the chair, she cautiously picked up the violin case that had been seated next to her on the floor. Mara hesitated though as if suspecting this would not be their last encounter. Her fingers clenched around the handle of the instrument case and as it lifted she saw his eyes flit to it for a brief moment. "…No hard feelings at all. Especially not with all of your father's talents." She could hear him utter as she slowly turned to exit the door. This wouldn't be the last encounter with them and even if the contract had been severed, Mara knew better than that. This was far from over.
--
"Have I ever mentioned that contracts are cumbersome?" The tired steel grey of the older male's gaze lifted to stare out at the partly cloudy sky through barred panes.
The sound of the office door opening drew his attention and he found his attention drawn to the sight a younger, lankier, male standing before him. Two, veiled, narrowed baby blue eyes were took in the Maestro's state. Ah yes, there he was in all of his patient, slimy, little brooding. Mikhail slouched although he was much more relaxed the way he stood.
His hands shoved into the pockets of his violet slacks, complete with black and white checkered Chucks, a matching black and white striped dress shirt and black vest adorned his torso while he brushed his sickly blonde hair from his weasel-like face. "You called for me, Maestro?"
"I think...we haven't given the little "Mistake" a good scare in a fair while now. Don't you think?" The steely grey of the older man's eyes met the younger male's gaze. His pupils dilating with wide excitement. "...It's a nice enough day for it, don't you agree?"
"...And how..." Much like the weasel he was, Mikhail seemed to slink towards the Maestro's desk. "...am I allowed to terrorize the little mouse this time?" He was hoping to be granted more freedom, more liberty, more suffering.
Walter Mundy held up a hand and offered him a smirk. "Patience...is a virtue. But unfortunately you're still going to need to run an errand for me when you get the chance." He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the Maestro shifted uncomfortably as his smirk faded. "...it seems "The Prelude" might begin sooner rather than later..." I thought I left him where he was bound...
"Errands..." The lanky, sneering, little man scoffed. "What errands?"
"...I'll require blood samples from the other son of Sparda. No need to get close to him because he is a very good shot." Mikhail didn't need to be told twice. "...but for now, you may have your fun."
That grin on Mikhail's thin lips split wide, toothy, revealing his teeth had sharpened. "All the fun?"
"In time, but not now..." The Maestro's tone deepened and his lip curled as he saw Mikhail's grin fade into a scowl. "...Once we've our use of her, you can have all the fun you want."
--
Despite the severance of the contract months over a year ago, she vowed not to let the intimidation tactics of her former employer interrupt her daily life. No matter if it was several days after the fact or several weeks, one thing certainly would never change and that was her anxiety being in public places that were crowded.
People stared. If there was anything she hated more than anything in the world, it was when onlookers couldn't mind their own business. It was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. The sensation of someone else's eyes washing over you, sizing you up, almost like a predator observed its prey. The pharmacy was one of the least expected places she had expected it to happen. She didn't think the customers would watch as she disputed her frustration to the pharmaceutical rep, who was the only one that could understand her. The manager, standing beside his employee merely gaped at the situation and tried to interrupt as the girl's hands moved rapidly, signing her words and using DJ to voice for her; between the two only once could speak.
"Your manager, I feel, is incapable of running this store. I've been here many times in the past few months, and every time Ms. Tisdale, my aunt, submits a prescription for the hospital there seems to be an issue." The rep voiced for her, though it was strained because he couldn't hear his own tone. Small fists clenched the strap to her instrument case that had been fashioned to wrapped around her shoulder so she could have her hands free at all times. The anger in her nonverbal gestures mounted, before DJ finally resolved the issue and made sure to correct what his manager had done wrong. It wasn't his fault his supervisor was an idiot...she mostly felt bad that DJ had to put up with an idiot.
The young man behind the counter, held out a small white bag to her. His expression sympathized with her frustration and he nudged his head in the direction of the older man standing behind him. "I'm so sorry for this, really. This shouldn't happen to you at all…" His own hands lifted up and he returned the gestures to her so the man behind him couldn't hear. "I'm putting in a call to corporate next week because I'm convinced he's discriminating against the customers who a deaf. He seems to think you can't hear him when he talks to me."
Reaching for the bag, green eyes settled on DJ adjusting his glasses. Her mouth set into a thin line and the girl exhaled a rasped noise of annoyance before she signed to him again, expressing her thanks and turning to face the small audience standing behind her. Their stares only proving to further agitate her
"WHAT? What are you staring at?" She pointed to her eyes and then back at them, before gesturing to the counter behind her. It seemed the expression was understood, and all eyes darted away from her.
Rolling her eyes, she moved around the line of people in an effort to get out of there as fast as possible. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and her black ballet flats clicked rapidly against the tile floor. Without hesitating, Mara shoved the front door open and pushed her way out into the open air. She had to get away, had to get out of there. The pressure in her stomach was mounting and her thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. Her pace quickened and turned into slightly manic five block power walk which finally gave her enough room to breathe once the pharmacy was far out of sight.
She clutched at the skirts of her cute blue sundress in an attempt to calm herself. The bag of temporary prescription balled into her fist, and against her other hand she clutched tightly to the leather strap around her shoulder. The pulse of the instrument case at her back further made effort to settle her nerves and its energy soothed her for the time being.
Dark chocolate curls fell in her face as she leaned up against the wall of Mike's Corner Store. Her breathing eventually settled and the tightness in her chest disappeared. Inhaling deeply, Mara lifted her head up to gaze across the street and remind herself of her surroundings. A second pulse of the case only reminded her, but briefly, that she wasn't entirely alone. That was when she heard its call.
Spardaaaa… It whispered and she tensed slightly, turning to look around at the sound of this name.
What? Who? Her fingers reached for the case at her back and she pulled it to her side. Emerald eyes glanced down at the clasps. "…What is it?" She asked it again. "…Who are you talking about? She hadn't heard the instrument ever utter anything like that before. Perhaps a brief warning but never a name
The smell blood hung in the air, thick, and coppery. It was a stench you couldn't forget and it was an easy scent to recognize, she hadn't been paying the slightest attention, completely, to her surroundings but she felt the pull of the instrument. Find Sparda…
--
This realm was a mixture of black and white. The air was stale and plagued with a surrounding fog. Even the heaviest footsteps made no audible sounds. It was as if the silence, alone, was deafening.
The silence was too eerie for his liking and despite the fact the town was familiar, Dante knew he wasn't in the human world anymore. The buildings were all drenched in a sickening grey color, almost how a corpse would look near the final stages of the rotting process. He began to recognize landmarks as he got closer to his destination, but there were others that were unfamiliar with shops he couldn't recognize, and he had a feeling he knew where he was going.
His boots scuffed against the white cobblestone of the streets and he gazed at the massive crater where the demonic tower, Temen-ni-gru once, stood in the middle of the city. Blank, abandoned, construction equipment riddled the the area. A bit of foundation was in built place where the ominous focal point once stood.
His gaze shifted about warily the, suddenly, a voice whispered to him. "It's down there…"
The corner of his lip twitched, smirking slightly, almost expectantly of the bullshit to follow. "What's down there?" He asked no one in particular, though he was skeptic of the whole situation. He didn't think he'd receive a response and when he turned he felt like he was looking at a ghost.
He tensed, moving to grip Rebellion strapped to his back but the blade was gone. His next reflex was for his guns, but they too seemed to have disappeared and he was gazing at the visage of his mother, standing behind him and smiling softly.
Eva's gaze was soft, her long blonde hair neatly pulled back into elaborate braids. Her demeanor peaceful, at ease. "You know, dear." She stated firmly, but her eyes were blank, soulless, and it was probably the eeriest part this…dream. It had to be a fantasy, otherwise he wouldn't have come without his weapons.
"Down…there…" He turned to look at what appeared to be a well that had suddenly appeared in the ruins of the tower. The grey waters bubbled over and for a moment he was drawn to it, before he snapped out of the trance and turned back to his mother.
Her visage began to shift and change. A third eye suddenly appeared in the middle of her head, blazing red. "…Son of Sparda…"
-
Icy blue eyes shot open to the world around him and he was gazing up at the ceiling fan in his bedroom. If one checked his pulse, it would have been racing which was uncommon for the devil hunter. He couldn't go on with these nightmares anymore. While their occurrence was fairly recent, he initially tried to push them out of his mind. What better way to do that? Cold showers.
A number of different thoughts processed through his head all at once as the icy waters hit his skin. Earlier this year, he had developed a taste aversion to pizza. Lady hadn't been by in months to collect payment (mostly for the bike he destroyed). He was pretty sure the spam from the local scam artists wasn't helping either, because after a while he had disconnected the phone. The cherry on top of it all was the dreams. They came and went every once in a while but the most recent one he couldn't get out of his head. If this shit didn't abate soon, he'd almost consider seeing a shrink for this shit. Almost...
Stepping out of the shower, he dried his hair off with a towel and plopped down at desk. A mess of half-empty Chinese take-out containers littered the place as he sifted through them to satiate his hunger. He scrunched his nose up in distaste as he picked up some Hunan chicken. "Why should I bother eating all this shit? I'm just gonna be hungry again in an hour." Carelessly, he tossed the container into the trashcan and glanced at the phone. He could call for some pizza right now but he hadn't had much taste for it since…
A sinking feeling settled in his gut and Dante suddenly felt a little angry at the idea. He didn't want to think about Vergil abandoning the human world. He didn't care that he and his brother differed on key views, but he was concerned for his twin
"Fuck." He hissed through his teeth as he tossed another container away. What did he care what happened to Vergil? His own brother didn't give a shit. So why should he?
He finally found a box of sesame chicken and lifted a piece to his mouth. Surveying his "office" he took in his surroundings. The retro jukebox in the corner was all banged up from Dante hitting it so many times. The ceiling fan squeaked above his head. He had at least several piles of trash bags sitting around the room he'd been too lazy to take to the dumpster. Then there was the briefcase sitting on the floor in front of the doorway. His gaze came back to that last sight. His brows raising suspiciously at the object in question.
Dante cocked a brow and he set the take out box down. Carefully, he wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed Ebony off the desk. A single envelope attached to the side of the container and cautiously,he picked it up. He warily took it back over to his desk and clicked the locks open. $500,000 dollars laid out before him. Who the fuck had left this for him here? Without hesitation, he ripped the letter open and held it out to read.
To the esteemed and legendary devil hunter: Dante,
We are prepared to offer you this sum of money should you complete the mission enclosed.
As this is very important matter to us, we would be ever so grateful to your endeavors to complete it in as timely a manner as possible.
Your mission: Locate a demonic entity known as 'The Mistake' and bring it to this address enclosed underneath the money.'
Sincerely,
The TAHL Agency.'
Call him crazy, but people didn't just give that type of money away. "Sounds like blood money to me..." There was suspicion in his tone as he set the envelope down and stared at the briefcase. Despite the fact he could have just taken the money and run with it, he wasn't feeling this. (Fin)
His position was slightly bent as he sat, gaze skimming over the document once more. As old as he was, his hearing was still sharp and he listened to the tap of the young woman's fingers against her lap while she signed to the redhead seated opposite of her. "Mr. Mundy," Maxwell Borenstein cleared his throat and nodded to the young woman. "My client is prepared to go to court and we are willing to litigate this problem for as long as possible, long enough to give your music company a bad name, as well as decrease the sales of your currently scheduled performances."
The old man's lip twitched in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Hands folding together, Walter Mundy tilted his head to the side at the young woman gazing back at him with a serious expression. His gaze lingered on her furrowed brow and the corner of her mouth twitching in annoyance. It gave him great pleasure at her discomfort. "Miss Wild…" He uttered, his voice was scratchy, almost like sandpaper. "We've been over this, darling-" The Maestro stopped short when he saw the older woman scoot her chair closer.
She had the same expression as his agitator. Despite the flecks of white appearing in her hair, the "guardian" was stoic and not amused at his treatment. Her tone was quick to have a sharp bite to it. "I'd keep your tongue dry and words civil. My niece certainly don't approve a this shit and neither do I."
His hands folded on the desk and the corner of his lips twitched slightly in amusement. "While this is all good and fun, Miss Wild and Mrs. Tisdale, I have a rather busy schedule to attend to as Miss Wild is aware of from her time in our orchestra. Or…has it slipped your mind, darling?" There it was again, that slimy remark.
Her mind was elsewhere in that moment, despite all of her focus on the man in front of her. Her hands clenched at her sides. She did not see Walter Mundy in the present. She saw his visage in her imagination now as it reeled back to a childhood memory. A monster begging for its life as a bigger one savaged it. It's gaping jowls, dripping, with and unhinged, maw. Razor sharp teeth gleamed blood in the moonlight, but the gaze of the bigger one never left hers.
The phrase uttered by her employer brought her back to the present though and she found her gumption again. Her knees shook in her seat and despite every fiber of her being telling her to run, the building pressure in her gut, she maintained her ground on the issue.
Dark chocolate waves shook from her head, pulled back into a half-bun, her shifting facial expressions said it all whilst Mara Wild signed her hands at him vehemently. "I'm not your "darling", Mr. Mundy. I am also not bound to you because you deem to "will" it on paper that has the mad basis that is the same as a contract with the Church of Scientology."
Sighing, he ran his hand over his face, and inhaled sharply. Ah, to be compared to another egregious mortal cult was both in itself an insult and a compliment . "Miss Wild, we have been over this many times. When you first signed your contract with us, the print was very clear. You would carry it out until you planned to retire." He watched as the young man at her side with his curly blonde hair and crisp business attire fished around for some paperwork and then chimed in.
Maxwell Borenstein may have looked like any ordinary lawyer, but he had a few tricks up his sleeves. "And while that may be true that she signed the contract within your employment, it is, in fact, illegal to sign life contracts. Might I also add you did so illegally considering she was a minor at the time." The click of a briefcase opened and Walter Mundy was served a manila folder, glaring at the brown-eyed attorney with his mouth tightened into a thin line. No sooner had the plain little folder come into view, Walter Mundy felt the energy coursing from it. Ah. He was that kind of lawyer. "Please, Mr. Mundy. We can make this legal issue very ugly…my firm and I are known for dealing with…difficult people like yourselves. By difficult I mean-"
"Despicable? Deplorable? Devious?" He was looking for a different word but Maxwell wasn't going to buy into it or at least adhere to another type of quarrel Walter Mundy wanted to initiate. At this, the Maestro regarded the lawyer with a pleasant smile and he turned it on the girl instead. "Well, Miss Wild. We don't want things to be messy now do we and it seems I underestimated you."
"We don't take lightly to threats in this family, Mr. Mundy. It's best ya remember that now." The terseness of the older woman's tone cut through Walter Mundy's attempts to "appease" the situation. Ah, yes the aunt. Carol Tisdale had always been a thorn in his side from the day they scoped out Mara's talents and he couldn't shake her, nor could he get rid of her either. She might have been donned in hospital scrubs during this meeting and looked seemingly harmless, but no one associated with the girl was ever anything but a threat.
Hands folded in her lap, Mara blinked at Walter Mundy, and regarded him with indifference. Her gaze never leaving his face for her glare was as livid as her posture in the chair. She watched as he took out his fancy pen from his breast pocket and signed the papers, thrusting them back to the lawyer.
"Pleasure resolving this issue Mr. Mundy," Maxwell responded curtly, but judging by his tone, the attorney knew this wasn't going to be so easy. Rising from the chair, he gestured to the girl to usher her towards the door with the older woman. "We keep this quiet now sir and perhaps this can be settled in a civil trial instead of a criminal proceeding."
"Of course, I certainly hope there are no hard feelings Miss Wild." Walter Mundy addressed her with a mock bow and extended his hand for her to shake, but she didn't return the gesture. Oh no. She had given him enough of her time he imagined, but she would still have more to give it would be in time. He was patient. He could wait.
Standing from the chair, she cautiously picked up the violin case that had been seated next to her on the floor. Mara hesitated though as if suspecting this would not be their last encounter. Her fingers clenched around the handle of the instrument case and as it lifted she saw his eyes flit to it for a brief moment. "…No hard feelings at all. Especially not with all of your father's talents." She could hear him utter as she slowly turned to exit the door. This wouldn't be the last encounter with them and even if the contract had been severed, Mara knew better than that. This was far from over.
--
"Have I ever mentioned that contracts are cumbersome?" The tired steel grey of the older male's gaze lifted to stare out at the partly cloudy sky through barred panes.
The sound of the office door opening drew his attention and he found his attention drawn to the sight a younger, lankier, male standing before him. Two, veiled, narrowed baby blue eyes were took in the Maestro's state. Ah yes, there he was in all of his patient, slimy, little brooding. Mikhail slouched although he was much more relaxed the way he stood.
His hands shoved into the pockets of his violet slacks, complete with black and white checkered Chucks, a matching black and white striped dress shirt and black vest adorned his torso while he brushed his sickly blonde hair from his weasel-like face. "You called for me, Maestro?"
"I think...we haven't given the little "Mistake" a good scare in a fair while now. Don't you think?" The steely grey of the older man's eyes met the younger male's gaze. His pupils dilating with wide excitement. "...It's a nice enough day for it, don't you agree?"
"...And how..." Much like the weasel he was, Mikhail seemed to slink towards the Maestro's desk. "...am I allowed to terrorize the little mouse this time?" He was hoping to be granted more freedom, more liberty, more suffering.
Walter Mundy held up a hand and offered him a smirk. "Patience...is a virtue. But unfortunately you're still going to need to run an errand for me when you get the chance." He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the Maestro shifted uncomfortably as his smirk faded. "...it seems "The Prelude" might begin sooner rather than later..." I thought I left him where he was bound...
"Errands..." The lanky, sneering, little man scoffed. "What errands?"
"...I'll require blood samples from the other son of Sparda. No need to get close to him because he is a very good shot." Mikhail didn't need to be told twice. "...but for now, you may have your fun."
That grin on Mikhail's thin lips split wide, toothy, revealing his teeth had sharpened. "All the fun?"
"In time, but not now..." The Maestro's tone deepened and his lip curled as he saw Mikhail's grin fade into a scowl. "...Once we've our use of her, you can have all the fun you want."
--
Despite the severance of the contract months over a year ago, she vowed not to let the intimidation tactics of her former employer interrupt her daily life. No matter if it was several days after the fact or several weeks, one thing certainly would never change and that was her anxiety being in public places that were crowded.
People stared. If there was anything she hated more than anything in the world, it was when onlookers couldn't mind their own business. It was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. The sensation of someone else's eyes washing over you, sizing you up, almost like a predator observed its prey. The pharmacy was one of the least expected places she had expected it to happen. She didn't think the customers would watch as she disputed her frustration to the pharmaceutical rep, who was the only one that could understand her. The manager, standing beside his employee merely gaped at the situation and tried to interrupt as the girl's hands moved rapidly, signing her words and using DJ to voice for her; between the two only once could speak.
"Your manager, I feel, is incapable of running this store. I've been here many times in the past few months, and every time Ms. Tisdale, my aunt, submits a prescription for the hospital there seems to be an issue." The rep voiced for her, though it was strained because he couldn't hear his own tone. Small fists clenched the strap to her instrument case that had been fashioned to wrapped around her shoulder so she could have her hands free at all times. The anger in her nonverbal gestures mounted, before DJ finally resolved the issue and made sure to correct what his manager had done wrong. It wasn't his fault his supervisor was an idiot...she mostly felt bad that DJ had to put up with an idiot.
The young man behind the counter, held out a small white bag to her. His expression sympathized with her frustration and he nudged his head in the direction of the older man standing behind him. "I'm so sorry for this, really. This shouldn't happen to you at all…" His own hands lifted up and he returned the gestures to her so the man behind him couldn't hear. "I'm putting in a call to corporate next week because I'm convinced he's discriminating against the customers who a deaf. He seems to think you can't hear him when he talks to me."
Reaching for the bag, green eyes settled on DJ adjusting his glasses. Her mouth set into a thin line and the girl exhaled a rasped noise of annoyance before she signed to him again, expressing her thanks and turning to face the small audience standing behind her. Their stares only proving to further agitate her
"WHAT? What are you staring at?" She pointed to her eyes and then back at them, before gesturing to the counter behind her. It seemed the expression was understood, and all eyes darted away from her.
Rolling her eyes, she moved around the line of people in an effort to get out of there as fast as possible. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and her black ballet flats clicked rapidly against the tile floor. Without hesitating, Mara shoved the front door open and pushed her way out into the open air. She had to get away, had to get out of there. The pressure in her stomach was mounting and her thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. Her pace quickened and turned into slightly manic five block power walk which finally gave her enough room to breathe once the pharmacy was far out of sight.
She clutched at the skirts of her cute blue sundress in an attempt to calm herself. The bag of temporary prescription balled into her fist, and against her other hand she clutched tightly to the leather strap around her shoulder. The pulse of the instrument case at her back further made effort to settle her nerves and its energy soothed her for the time being.
Dark chocolate curls fell in her face as she leaned up against the wall of Mike's Corner Store. Her breathing eventually settled and the tightness in her chest disappeared. Inhaling deeply, Mara lifted her head up to gaze across the street and remind herself of her surroundings. A second pulse of the case only reminded her, but briefly, that she wasn't entirely alone. That was when she heard its call.
Spardaaaa… It whispered and she tensed slightly, turning to look around at the sound of this name.
What? Who? Her fingers reached for the case at her back and she pulled it to her side. Emerald eyes glanced down at the clasps. "…What is it?" She asked it again. "…Who are you talking about? She hadn't heard the instrument ever utter anything like that before. Perhaps a brief warning but never a name
The smell blood hung in the air, thick, and coppery. It was a stench you couldn't forget and it was an easy scent to recognize, she hadn't been paying the slightest attention, completely, to her surroundings but she felt the pull of the instrument. Find Sparda…
--
This realm was a mixture of black and white. The air was stale and plagued with a surrounding fog. Even the heaviest footsteps made no audible sounds. It was as if the silence, alone, was deafening.
The silence was too eerie for his liking and despite the fact the town was familiar, Dante knew he wasn't in the human world anymore. The buildings were all drenched in a sickening grey color, almost how a corpse would look near the final stages of the rotting process. He began to recognize landmarks as he got closer to his destination, but there were others that were unfamiliar with shops he couldn't recognize, and he had a feeling he knew where he was going.
His boots scuffed against the white cobblestone of the streets and he gazed at the massive crater where the demonic tower, Temen-ni-gru once, stood in the middle of the city. Blank, abandoned, construction equipment riddled the the area. A bit of foundation was in built place where the ominous focal point once stood.
His gaze shifted about warily the, suddenly, a voice whispered to him. "It's down there…"
The corner of his lip twitched, smirking slightly, almost expectantly of the bullshit to follow. "What's down there?" He asked no one in particular, though he was skeptic of the whole situation. He didn't think he'd receive a response and when he turned he felt like he was looking at a ghost.
He tensed, moving to grip Rebellion strapped to his back but the blade was gone. His next reflex was for his guns, but they too seemed to have disappeared and he was gazing at the visage of his mother, standing behind him and smiling softly.
Eva's gaze was soft, her long blonde hair neatly pulled back into elaborate braids. Her demeanor peaceful, at ease. "You know, dear." She stated firmly, but her eyes were blank, soulless, and it was probably the eeriest part this…dream. It had to be a fantasy, otherwise he wouldn't have come without his weapons.
"Down…there…" He turned to look at what appeared to be a well that had suddenly appeared in the ruins of the tower. The grey waters bubbled over and for a moment he was drawn to it, before he snapped out of the trance and turned back to his mother.
Her visage began to shift and change. A third eye suddenly appeared in the middle of her head, blazing red. "…Son of Sparda…"
-
Icy blue eyes shot open to the world around him and he was gazing up at the ceiling fan in his bedroom. If one checked his pulse, it would have been racing which was uncommon for the devil hunter. He couldn't go on with these nightmares anymore. While their occurrence was fairly recent, he initially tried to push them out of his mind. What better way to do that? Cold showers.
A number of different thoughts processed through his head all at once as the icy waters hit his skin. Earlier this year, he had developed a taste aversion to pizza. Lady hadn't been by in months to collect payment (mostly for the bike he destroyed). He was pretty sure the spam from the local scam artists wasn't helping either, because after a while he had disconnected the phone. The cherry on top of it all was the dreams. They came and went every once in a while but the most recent one he couldn't get out of his head. If this shit didn't abate soon, he'd almost consider seeing a shrink for this shit. Almost...
Stepping out of the shower, he dried his hair off with a towel and plopped down at desk. A mess of half-empty Chinese take-out containers littered the place as he sifted through them to satiate his hunger. He scrunched his nose up in distaste as he picked up some Hunan chicken. "Why should I bother eating all this shit? I'm just gonna be hungry again in an hour." Carelessly, he tossed the container into the trashcan and glanced at the phone. He could call for some pizza right now but he hadn't had much taste for it since…
A sinking feeling settled in his gut and Dante suddenly felt a little angry at the idea. He didn't want to think about Vergil abandoning the human world. He didn't care that he and his brother differed on key views, but he was concerned for his twin
"Fuck." He hissed through his teeth as he tossed another container away. What did he care what happened to Vergil? His own brother didn't give a shit. So why should he?
He finally found a box of sesame chicken and lifted a piece to his mouth. Surveying his "office" he took in his surroundings. The retro jukebox in the corner was all banged up from Dante hitting it so many times. The ceiling fan squeaked above his head. He had at least several piles of trash bags sitting around the room he'd been too lazy to take to the dumpster. Then there was the briefcase sitting on the floor in front of the doorway. His gaze came back to that last sight. His brows raising suspiciously at the object in question.
Dante cocked a brow and he set the take out box down. Carefully, he wrapped his towel around his waist and grabbed Ebony off the desk. A single envelope attached to the side of the container and cautiously,he picked it up. He warily took it back over to his desk and clicked the locks open. $500,000 dollars laid out before him. Who the fuck had left this for him here? Without hesitation, he ripped the letter open and held it out to read.
To the esteemed and legendary devil hunter: Dante,
We are prepared to offer you this sum of money should you complete the mission enclosed.
As this is very important matter to us, we would be ever so grateful to your endeavors to complete it in as timely a manner as possible.
Your mission: Locate a demonic entity known as 'The Mistake' and bring it to this address enclosed underneath the money.'
Sincerely,
The TAHL Agency.'
Call him crazy, but people didn't just give that type of money away. "Sounds like blood money to me..." There was suspicion in his tone as he set the envelope down and stared at the briefcase. Despite the fact he could have just taken the money and run with it, he wasn't feeling this. (Fin)
