Prologue: Cross Purposes

The darkness came suddenly, but not silently.

It was night time, and the simple comfort of that star-lit skyline was at once overcome and shrouded by something much more dispiriting.

An ardent wave of something flooded the city, filling it and then spreading out infinitely across the world, flying across the planet itself.

It was suffocating, dimming the street lamps and clouding over the houses as the lights within began to flicker. All over the city, people were roused by the sound of their crying children. All were frightened by the sudden darkness, and somewhere, out in the deep night, high-pitched, hysterical laughter echoed through the streets. Beneath their beds, something croaked. For others it was from within their closets, hungering growls longing for them. It was just a simple waiting game for now. The cry of this delirious banshee outside infected the city, seeping into the dreams of even the heaviest sleepers and bringing them sharply into reality.

The man had expected to awaken to a nightmare, a stereotypical haunted-house moment, where lightning crashed outside his window and a witch darted across the moon.

But the sight of a black, moonless sky was far more disturbing than anything his imagination could have conjured, and he stared up, out of his window, wondering.

His heart pounding faster and faster, blindness overcame him.

"Something's wrong . . ." He whispered.

It was as though the pure fact of an all-dark sky awakened a deep-seated fear, he couldn't understand why.

The window beside his bed overlooked a street that was completely barren. Then the laughter returned to his ear, ripping through all that was good and holy in the world.

He pulled his fruitless gaze from the window, leaping up to look frantically around his bedroom.

After a few moments passed, he shook himself. Those sounds were just in his head, the echoes of a bad dream. That was it. And so he sat on his bedside briefly, holding his hand over his pounding heart.
If he got back under the covers and shut his eyes, he'd wake up in the morning and everything would be normal. Taking a deep breath, he laid back over his bed and rested his head down on the pillow. He was just pulling the covers back when a flash of red flickered out of the corner of his eye. He shot upright instantly.

Darkness. Only darkness.

Dante shook his head one last time as he sank back and allowed sleep to overtake him, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling this was the wrong time to be lazy.

. . .

On the edge of the ocean, construction workers in bright coats gathered around the dig-site, their work abandoned since the brief but violent quake earlier.

A chill rose through the air, something just ever-so-slightly corrupting, pushing past their skin gently, almost inviting.

They stared into the sky above the distant trees, to a bright red glow coming from somewhere out at sea, and were so mesmerized by it, they failed to see the trucks pull up behind them. The engines died and several people jumped out: various different crisis responders and a few ragtag scientific men. They'd sensed a severe energy pulse long before the light had arrived. At once, they all approached the edge of the extensive port's yellow border.

It was such a warm glow, appearing to fill anyone ho looked upon it with an odd sense that differed between person to person. Clearly, it was some kind of phenomenon, they just needed to figure out what. And while helicopters flew on by and the men and women in their trucks geared up, pre-staged vessels prepared together to sail on out. It had been reported as a potential fire on an oil rig, there was at least one off the coast, roughly about as far as the light seemed to be.

Immediately, the leading scientist began conversing with his workers, observing the glow as they set up an odd mechanism that looked cylindrical.

It seemed to have various wires, all tangled but plugged in to where they needed to be at least. On the front was a metal panel-mount where they rigged a monitor.

The device began displaying readings of some kind.

"That can't be a fire." One of them said.

"It's too deeply red to be a blaze, but it's also too bright to be any kind of aquatic activity." Replied another scientist.

The other turned to him, "What do you think, Arthur?"

Professor Hawkins lifted his hand to his creased forehead as he fiddled about with the knobs on the space-age contraption, occasionally rearing up to catch a glimpse of that light. Within the man's watery eyes, his colleague thought he could see a dark familiarity. Did Hawkins know anything he wasn't sharing? What kind of moral implications would it spurn? Even worse was the thought that crossed his mind next: What if the professor had somehow had a hand in the creation of the anomaly?

No, that was absurd . . . Right?

"I can't be sure." He lowered his hand and shook his head hopelessly, unsure of himself, so he asked an approaching construction worker, "You said on the radio that you heard screaming?"

"Yeah, that's right," The laborer replied, "About twenty-five minutes ago, not long after the quake. It stopped, but we've contacted the coast guard to make sure no one's playing a joke out there."

"If there was someone out there, that might explain how that fire started. Might've crashed into the rig and set a few things off." The worker's colleague chimed in.

Hawkins sighed.

"That, gentlemen, is not a fire. It is currently an anomalous light source, we're here to study it before it vanishes, before they reach it." The man said, motioning to the departing boats.

"What does that mean?" The worker asked him.

"It might be a gas cloud, we don't know. If it registers a high radiation count or abnormal levels of electromagnetic interference, we can rule out that theory. I've seen something similar before, but it wasn't anything too serious . . . Though I am curious to find out what this light originates from." He turned back to his colleagues.

"What does it say?"

"There's . . . a high level of gamma rays!" The man said reading the panel as it lit up with an error.

"What?" Hawkins said, almost outraged, he'd been wrong on all accounts . . . interesting. "That's impossible. At this close of a range at that high of a concentration? We should be dead."

A small moment of panic came over them.

"-Why aren't we?" The technician said, looking out at that crimson glow.

Suddenly, a spot of darkness opened up within the massive light, and from it spat forth a blinding, inverted flash of black. When it ceased mere seconds later, a small girl lay crouched before them all. She couldn't have been older than ten, and her hair was pure ebony, as dark and angular as a Raven's beak. She sat there on her feet, kneeling, shivering, and tears from her eyes dripped to the ground.

They froze on contact.

. . .

It was just one of those days . . . even a feather could fall without drifting one way or the other.
The grass was straight and silent, the leaves stayed still, as if they had been painted there.
Should a person be able to hear the beating of a bird's wings - that would have been the only breeze.

It was still, utterly still.

Dante sat inside his shop, the industrialized-gothic feel of it being his only vague source of comfort today. He held both his hands together and rested his chin on his knuckles. He couldn't concentrate, not even enough to read the magazine that came for him in the post. Something had changed between yesterday and today, a flatness consumed all motion. There was this rotten malaise to everything, as though it were the hottest day of summer, yet he knew it was winter.

Swords and severed demon limbs adorned the walls, all gleefully taken from their owners, and the man's red coat laid over the side of his brown leather couch to his right.

He looked around his office and really focused on the contents for the first time in a long while, where he saw the something he hadn't noticed since years ago. It was the only source of energy in the room, and once he noticed it, it drew his view right in, and he couldn't focus on anything else.

The Alastor hung in front of an old poster. He barely even remembered he had that thing. But that was just it, how could he forget? How could he forget a thing like that?

It crackled with electric energy, reacting to something somehow, but he hadn't ever seen it do that before.
What was setting it off and why had he never realized it's presence still clung to his arsenal, unused?
Perhaps it was worth using again after so long, he knew that he did grow tired of that same old Rebellion.

Where'd he put Rebellion anyway?

"I wonder-" Dante whispered as he laid back on his chair and lifted his legs up, but he felt uncomfortable. That was a first.

He sighed, "Well, another no-job day I suppose. Perfect."

The phone rang.

Lifting up his right heel and crossing it over his left leg, he brought it back down and bashed the surface of the table, not enough to do any structural damage.

Concentrating the energy in his foot, the kinetic action sprung the handset up off the base station and he extended a hand out to catch it.

The handset flew past his hand and he caught the wire instead.

"God damn it- Come here!" He said frustrated, fiddling about with the handset as it dangled from his reach.

Trying to remain seated with his legs up initially, he eventually gave up and placed his legs back on the floor, awkwardly fumbling with the receiver as he heard a voice say 'hello?'

Finally, he put the handset to his ear, "Yeah?"

"Hellooo? Hello? . . . Yes, hello there. Is this Devil May Cry inc.?"

"You don't need to say inc-. . . -Yeah, this is Devil May Cry. What's up?"

". . . Um, isn't there a password of somekind?"

Dante stared blankly at the wall for a moment, "Oh yeah."

"Uh, well, I have it here on file just in case, it says . . . Uhh . . . 'Vergil-Blows.'"

"Hehehe, yeah, that's the one. What can I do for ya?"

"I'm sorry for disturbing you at this hour, mister Dante, my name is Arthur Hawkins. I'm roughly two minutes away from your shop and am bringing you a job."

"You don't say?" He remarked, sarcasm lazily basted all over it.

"One minute." Hawkins said.

Dante opened his eyes, "Look, you can hang up, you don't have to-" He stopped as the front door opened.

In came the apparent client.

"That was quicker than one minute, old man." The hunter told him.

"Haah, I would prefer it if you refrained from such pet names." The Professor replied, closing the old flip phone he used, "I have a job for you, sir."

"Don't call me sir. Now, waddya want?"

"I apologize, I don't mean to test your patience. But also, I didn't know where else to bring it."

The professor motioned to a figure standing outside and as it moved slightly, Dante finally recognized the form of a very small girl. She was wrapped in a heavy black coat and her face partially hidden by messy, ratty hair. Her stare was vacant, not at all emotional or kind. Her eyes were a pallid green, a shade of emerald that particularly popped out at him.

"This is Lily," said Professor Hawkins, "And that's all I've managed to find out about her since she first appeared late last night. She doesn't talk very much."

"What?" Dante said, his tone suddenly more serious, "Where did you find her?"

For a moment he was dumbfounded, a bit alarmed by her frail state.

"The anomaly that appeared at sea yesterday, she seems to be connected with it. We haven't been able to determine her nature, though she isn't harmful to the touch. As far as we can tell, it's rather harmless in most every sense, as thought it were an ordinary ten-year-old girl. One of the only odd things about her is that her tears freeze the second they touch anything separate from herself. Apart from that, she's docile."

"Uh-huh. And you brought her because?" He asked.

"Ah, uh, well- It's a bit hard to explain. No amount of scientific analysis has yielded any kind of information about her beyond her name, her outward appearance, and her freezing tears. She is, for all intents and purposes, an 'impossible' girl, and so therefore must be treated as an object to study. We require your knowledge of the supernatural, Dante."

"Oh, so I'm an expert, huh?" The hunter replied.

"For our purposes, yes. You have quite the reputation on the streets, as it were. Given what we know you're capable of, you seemed just the man for our little . . . 'program' regarding this case. You see, the university for which I am employed is eager to take a more, shall we say, 'involved' approach to studying what we can't explain. It's my job to explore what we don't know, the fringe sciences. I can tell you this: she came from the red light."

"Wait, what?"

"My employment? I'm a profes-"

"No not that, the 'red light'?" Dante interrupted him.

"Eh yes, the red light. It appeared at sea last night, did you not realize that when I said 'the anomaly'?" Hawkins replied.

"I heard you, I just didn't care. So that red light was real . . . No." Frustrated, the hunter ran his fingers through his hair.

So, it really wasn't something he should've ignored. Damn it.

"I see, you have a connection with the anomaly? All the better." Arthur said, and the hunter looked back at him almost disturbed. The man continued his proposition, "Watch over her, for a couple of days. That's all that I ask of you. I know you prefer a direct approach, so that is my offer to you. Babysit Lily for a few days. Seeing as it is an inconvenience for you, the university has permitted me a research grant of five thousand dollars to employ you for this task."

Dante's left eyebrow raised itself.

"Five thousand, eh? Pretty penny, what's the catch?" Dante asked.

"All we do is observe you with her, me and my team will be monitoring any strange occurrences during the time you interact, to see if she responds with someone similarly supernatural."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The devil hunter asked him.

"Come now, at least those who're educated know something of your exploits. The son of the great Sparda, the man who defeated his own brother atop the dark tower? You are well known, I hate to tell you. But that is not the issue we are here to discuss, of course. We've run every diagnostic possible and nothing has turned up repeatable results, so think of this as a 'control group', it's just an experiment to measure any changes in behavior or physiology. You have my word that we will do our best not to impede your day to day life. We only seek to understand the anomaly, it's as simple as that. Play with her, talk to her, engage her."

"All I gotta do . . . is sit and talk to 'vegetable-kid' here, and I get five grand?"

"As simple as that." The professor repeated.

"Ah, alright. We have a deal, cash upfront."

Arthur smiled and dug through his coat till he found the checkbook, right in front of Dante he wrote out the amount to the full payment and not a cent below. Ripping out the paper from his check, he placed it on Dante's desk and shifted it forward towards the man. Every dollar's worth would be paramount to discovery. The professor knew this would appeal to the young man his own agenda.

The right side of Dante's lip twitched upwards as he picked his teeth with his tongue for food scraps.

"See you soon, Dante." Arthur winked and stood, turning around to head out the door, "Would you be a dear and run a bath for her? She does need it."

And at that, he closed the door behind him.

For a moment there was an awkward silence, the girl seems to be avoiding his eye directly. What a load of hooplah. What kind of scientist leaves their science project just hanging around? Awkwardly, he approached the young girl, pausing only when she flinched and tried to back away, her green eyes wide with fear. Mystery hung in the air and he wondered what her statements would be, what she would say to him when he talked to her, given that apparently, he was 'special.'

"Uh, are you a fan of food?"

No response.

"Okay, no food I guess. Do you got any friends, any family? People-. . . people you mighta known? -No?" He asked in a jumbled thought process.

The girl stayed the same.

"Well . . . This is just perfect. Trapped in my shop with a deaf mute. Any chance ya like coffee?" He added to what he knew would be silence, "Okay, well I'm gonna grab some."

The man got up and walked over to the counter to the right of his desk and began fixing himself some caffeine.
Quite the day already, he knew something was wrong but he couldn't quite place it. Something was just different.
The world just wasn't quite the way it was yesterday.

He stopped and tried to think of something, then it clicked.

"Yeah see you soon too, pal, I'm about to throw a little monkey wrench into your observation here." The man grumbled under his breath.

He went back to his desk and picked up the handset, dialing up the number of the one person he knew could help. A minute went by before he heard her voice.

"Hello?" She answered, almost stunned.

"Lady, babe, can i call you babe?" He said sarcastically, doing his best impersonation of an old 1950's film agent, "Ya need to come to my place, now."

He heard her take a hard breath in, then sigh, "Look, Dante, I know I said I was into fe-"

"No-no-no-no-no, not calling about that, there's a little girl here." He cut her off.

"Wait what?"

"Some dude came by and dropped off a ten year old girl, offered me five thousand dollars to babysit her for a little while. You want in?"

"Slow down there, do you realize it's six-mother-fucking-thirty in the morning?" Lady replied, anger flaring.

"Yeah yeah, you can punch me in the face when you get here, just trust me on this, kay? I'll split the five grand even. Twenty five hundred your way doesn't sound bad, huh?"

It took Lady quite the moment before she answered him.
So many seconds rolled by as he heard her breathing hard.
She was tired. He'd woken her up.

"Fine, five minutes: I'll be there."

Thank you for reading everyone, please leave a review.

Thank you Angel Wolf for beta reading this.