Devil May Cry: Volume 1 (OFFICIAL NOVEL)

Phase 2: Part 2

"Scoundrels! What do we do in this Cellar?" Bobby had clambered back on his bar and had his hands in the air, like a ringleader.

"Drink!" everyone shouted.

"So how do we settle things here?" Bobby asked.

"Booze!"

"Booze? I got an ocean of the stuff!" Bobby sneered. "What do you want?"

"Bobby's vodka!"

The roomful of mercenaries roared their approval. Gilver stood in front of the table, still none the wiser. His opponent was sitting opposite him with a glass in hand. People guided Gilver into a chair and a glass found its way in front of him.

"Hey, newbie." Tony grunted. "A word of advice. Drink as if you want to die. If you don't, you really will die."

Someone poured vodka into the two glasses.

"Ready you bastards?" Bobby hollered. "Go!"

A chorus of gunshot rang out, and Tony slugged back his glass with a sour face.

Gilver manipulated a slit in the bandages covering his mouth, and followed suit. He felt the fiery liquid tumble down his throat and wanted to vomit. Before he knew what was happening, a gaggle of mercenaries forced a funnel into his mouth and began to pour endless waves of vodka into it.

Gilver's consciousness didn't hold out for long. He fell backward and passed out. The mercenaries kept going anyway. Eventually, vodka began pouring out of Gilver's mouth and spreading across the floor. The smell was enough to knock out an elephant.

"How's that, newbie?" Tony said. Someone in the crowd tried to help Gilver up, but his unconscious body proved unwieldy. He crashed back to the floor like a puppet with severed strings, face down and limbs akimbo.

Tony easily emptied his twentieth glass. The crowd began to cheer him on.

"Tony! You're the strongest!"

"Ha! Knocking back a few glasses doesn't mean you're strong!"

Surrounded by reckless hooting, Tony flung his glass away.

"Don't be asses. I'm doin' the whole keg!" he proclaimed.

"Do it! Do it!" The jeers and cheers grew louder.

Tony grasped the half-empty barrel with both hands, tilting it back so that a steady river of vodka flowed into his welcoming mouth. He drained the keg amid the rousing cheers, letting it crash to the ground once it emptied. An enormous bout of applause erupted from the crowd.

Tony raised his right arm like a victorious boxer. "Hey, Bobby! That's my win, right?"

"Sure," Bobby shot back. "I haven't seen you go all out like that in a long time. Even so..." He indicated Gilver, who was now snoring, prostrate on the floor. Bobby couldn't close until he woke up. But there were benefits to having passed-out customers. He began rooting through Gilver's pockets. "Loser pays."

Eventually, Bobby produced an overstuff wallet and a jewel-encrusted watch. "Hey! This guy's loaded! There's more than enough here to pay for the booze and bar repairs." The revelation sent the assembled throng into a hyena-like frenzy. A middleman grabbed the watch and made a beeline for the nearest pawnshop. Everyone else became energized by the notion of free drinks.

"Drinks are on the newbie!"

"All right! Tonight's a lucky night! Bobby, keep them drinks coming!"

"If there's not enough money, sell off his clothes!"

"We can pawn that sword too!"

Tony shrugged, remembering his own initiation into the mercenary world.