DMC4: The-Devil's Arm

Prologue

"The Order of the Sword, huh?"

Dante took an ample bite from the fresh slice of pizza he held in his gloved hand, then chewed vigorously.

Lady slowly nodded her head. "Yes. Are you familiar with them?"

Dante gave a brief chuckle. "Sorry. Religion and I don't mix," he said through a mouthful.

Why did I even bother asking?

She rolled her eyes in annoyance behind the reflective orange shades she wore, the sleek frames hiding her heterochromia. Lady had two different colored eyes; her right was a light blue, with just a hint of hazel, her left a deep and menacing brown that almost glowed with red if the light was just right. Shades were now almost a standard piece of her attire, keeping the stares to a minimum. Unfortunately, Lady was having another problem with stares.

She noticed that Dante wasn't looking at her face when he responded to her. Rather, he was enjoying the view of the plunging neckline of her white pinstriped blazer. The form fitting garment, complete with a set of matching hot pants gave her an air of business and pleasure. And as Dante's luck would have it, she didn't believe in bras, and just happened to absently be leaning forward on his desk.

Whatever keeps him interested. Guess I'll have to spell it out for him.

"It's a small congregation that gathers in the castle town of Fortuna," she said, then gave an airy scoff. "I guess the only people who would have heard of it are the type of people who take interest in this type of thing.

Dante laughed and swallowed his mouthful of pizza. "Like you."

Lady cocked her head, her gelled black bangs shifting to the side.

"Exactly."

Dante took another bite from the piece of pizza in his hand, apparently bored with the current conversation. He opted to stay how he was: his feet propped up on his desk, slouching in an antique Gothic chair. Lady rolled her eyes again. The half-demon was being more annoying than usual. Maybe she was just impatient because she was stopping on her way to a job, maybe he just pissed her off in general.

Dante's shop, Devil May Cry, was Lady's only real competition when it came to her profession: demon slaying. Apparently, as said by Dante, something Lady had said when they first met was his inspiration for the name of it. Lady couldn't remember, nor did she really care.

The shop resembled more of a dingy tavern than a place of business. There was a beaten drum kit and a pool table in the corner. The other side held a well used red leather couch, as well as a beaten jukebox and a filthy refrigerator. A solitary fan slowly circled overhead, doing nothing in fixing the room's temperature. The most noticeable feature was Dante's desk and the items behind it: a large arsenal of firearms, as well as several evil looking Devil Arms. Most prominent among these was the Sparda, a massive demonic sword displayed proudly on a column.

Despite her and Dante's competition, they worked together on rare occasions. She hoped that this would be one of them. She just happened to be in a bind. The only problem was getting Dante motivated.

"So just how much do you know about Sparda?" she ventured to ask, not knowing what type of answer to expect. She at first figured Dante would know quite a bit about his own father.

"Well, from what I can figure there's a lot of, uh, confusion, surrounding him."

He shot a look to the third figure in the room, the one sitting casually at the end of his long desk: Trish. The tall blond woman...(or was it demon?) merely shrugged. She sat, legs crossed, in black leather, one leg mindlessly keeping beat with the jukebox spilling out death metal. Her head was tipped up and back almost proudly, the silken tresses of her hair spilling down the back of her ebony bustier. Like Dante, she was enjoying a slice of pizza.