Lucyfer
Said you'd die for me, well -- there's the ground
“Another day, another dollar.”
Such a phrase was usually said with some intonation of happiness for the pay. In this case, it was met with a sigh, and a mess of silver hair falling forward over a sink all but overflowing with dirty dishes, “I could use a few more, though.” Gloved hands curled over the counter, before he pushed himself up, “It’s one thing to eat cold pizza first thing in the—afternoon,” he glanced at the wall, at a clock, “Not sure if you’re right anymore, either, now that I think about it.” So he walked around to a round table by a couch and picked up the barely-charged phone, “it’s another to eat lukewarm pizza first thing. The power company could have at least cut me a break, there was a demon apocalypse going on for like a week.”
Never mind the bills on the couch said 3 weeks overdue.
It was afternoon, going into evening.
He had a message from Lady, and he jotted down her phone number on a pad, grabbed his red coat, and then strolled outside his Office-Home, so dubbed Devils May Cry to get the point of his job across. There was payphone near the convenience store, and the few people there couldn’t help but pass him a look. He waved, winked at one who glanced down his chest to the gaudy silver necklace he wore, before slipping into the booth. He put a few quarters into a payphone. He could have probably used that money for a fresh pizza, but he just chewed away at the lukewarm one in the booth until the phone was answered. “Heeeey.”
“You’re lucky I have this payphone’s number memorized,” came her dry response, “Did you get my message?”
“Yeah, about that,” he said, “I don’t really go on that side of town.”
“I know you don’t, but you need money, don’t you?” Lady asked, “I’d like to have working electricity in the shop.”
“Yeah,” Dante sighed, “so who’s the guy?” He leaned against the glass and took another bite of his pizza.
“Her name is Celestina,” Dante groaned, but Lady continued, “deFrancisca, and the job pays exceptionally well. Enough to pay the electric bill, and more.”
“All right, all right,” Dante shoved the rest of the pizza into his mouth, chewed and swallowed quick, “I’ll go pay her a visit. Anything on the job?”
“No, she wouldn’t give me the details, something about stealing her stake or something – I don’t know,” Lady sounded exasperated, so Dante could only imagine how the conversation with. It brought a bit of a smile to his lips. “Just go offer your services, she’ll wire the money to me when it’s done.”
“H-hey, I’m the one who needs it, I’m doing the job!”
“I’ll wire you your portion afterwards.”
“Portion? Look, Lady—”
“I’m the one out here finding jobs, Dante. If you want full pay, you could do the same.”
He sighed, but wouldn’t press it. He could do more than what he was doing, but his mind was distracted. It had only been a couple of days since the chaos calmed down, and he couldn’t get those days out of his mind. He’d seen Vergil! Vergil had been alive! And now…now he was gone. Dante still felt the phantom pain across his palm at their parting. All those years, he’d assumed Vergil was dead, and now? He comes back like that?
And leaves?
So, rather than spend time looking for jobs, Dante spent it in places he had no understanding of: libraries.
It wasn’t going well.
“All right, all right. I’ll go get this handled. Talk to ya soon, Lady.” He hung up the phone and stepped out of the booth, slipping his coat over his arms as he made the short walk back to his business and pulled the keys to his motorcycle out of his pocket, twirling the ring around his finger before he straddled the bike, put the key in the ignition, and set off down the road towards the finer part of town.
The guard at the gated community didn’t want to deal with him, but that was fine with Dante. He just drew back, used Ebony to shoot the control panel, and the gate swung open for him, letting him speed off down the road to the home address of Celestine diFrancisca, who had one of those fancy circular drives which wrapped around an absolutely gaudy fountain of an angel pouring water out.
“Tch.” Dante couldn’t help but roll his eyes at it as he walked up to the door and lifted a hand to knock, only to have the door pulled open by an old, dignified man in a suit, “Heeey, Alfred!” Dante greeted, dropping his hand to the stranger’s shoulder and patting it as he walked right on in like he knew the place, “good to see you!”
“The name is Nathan,” the butler glowered as he lifted Dante’s gloved hand – well, finger, really – between two of his own fingers to get it off of him, “we were alerted to an intruder heading our way by security and assumed it would be you or—”
Dante didn’t let him finish, “Well, if you let the gate guard know you hired me, probably wouldn’t have had any issues there, Alfred. But I know you have a busy life looking after all Brucie’s toys.”
Nathan sighed. “Miss diFrancisca will see you in the Green Lounge.”
“Compared to what, the Red Lounge?”
A pause.
“Is there a Red Lounge? That would match better.”
Nathan sighed again, “The Green Lounge is this way, sir.”
“At least it’s not the Blue Lounge, that would just be a clash,” Dante couldn’t help himself as they moved down one of those absolutely bland cream-and-tan hallways. Shame she wasn’t an eccentric rich person. Even the flooring was boring, all neutral tones. He had some hope for the Green Lounge, all of which were dashed as he entered and found it to be a pale and inoffensive green, with plants that had no flowers.
Green.
“Tch.” And diFrancisca wasn’t there yet. So he walked to the couch.
“Can I get you anything to drink, sir?”
“Yeah! You have any Jack Daniels?” Dante kicked his feet up over the arm of the couch, and crossed his arm over the back of it as he leaned into the plush cushion, “I mean, any whiskey will do, but that’s—”
“Very good sir, I shall bring you water.”
“You’re killing me, Alfred!” He declared as Nathan turned away to get him water, apparently. He sighed, dropped his arm, and fell back to lay on the couch, legs dangling over the arm still. He didn’t move until he heard the door open again, steps much lighter. On sitting up, he saw a small blonde woman, who may as well have been a porcelain doll with her perfectly coiffed curls and painted on features.
Pretty.
Not really his type, but sometimes women like that were surprising with their interests in slumming. So he put on a sly grin and leaned into the back of the couch again, “Well, well, you must be Celestine diFrancisca.” He offered his hand over the couch, “I’m Dante.”
She ignored his hand, but held to her manners as she offered a courteous dip and slight flourish of her hands outward, “Pleasure, Dante.” She walked around him, likely giving him a wider berth than needed.
He sniffed at himself. “Do I smell that bad?” he asked aloud.
She would not answer, of course. Likely stunted by her society to never be impolite as she made her way to her desk, “All right, all right, so let’s get into this. What demon is troubling you, hun?”
He could see the distaste, “You will forgive me if I do not begin yet. I do not wish to repeat myself.”
Dante arched a brow at that, “Repeat yourself?”
The answer was likely in the sound of steps from the butler, and another following.
Such a phrase was usually said with some intonation of happiness for the pay. In this case, it was met with a sigh, and a mess of silver hair falling forward over a sink all but overflowing with dirty dishes, “I could use a few more, though.” Gloved hands curled over the counter, before he pushed himself up, “It’s one thing to eat cold pizza first thing in the—afternoon,” he glanced at the wall, at a clock, “Not sure if you’re right anymore, either, now that I think about it.” So he walked around to a round table by a couch and picked up the barely-charged phone, “it’s another to eat lukewarm pizza first thing. The power company could have at least cut me a break, there was a demon apocalypse going on for like a week.”
Never mind the bills on the couch said 3 weeks overdue.
It was afternoon, going into evening.
He had a message from Lady, and he jotted down her phone number on a pad, grabbed his red coat, and then strolled outside his Office-Home, so dubbed Devils May Cry to get the point of his job across. There was payphone near the convenience store, and the few people there couldn’t help but pass him a look. He waved, winked at one who glanced down his chest to the gaudy silver necklace he wore, before slipping into the booth. He put a few quarters into a payphone. He could have probably used that money for a fresh pizza, but he just chewed away at the lukewarm one in the booth until the phone was answered. “Heeeey.”
“You’re lucky I have this payphone’s number memorized,” came her dry response, “Did you get my message?”
“Yeah, about that,” he said, “I don’t really go on that side of town.”
“I know you don’t, but you need money, don’t you?” Lady asked, “I’d like to have working electricity in the shop.”
“Yeah,” Dante sighed, “so who’s the guy?” He leaned against the glass and took another bite of his pizza.
“Her name is Celestina,” Dante groaned, but Lady continued, “deFrancisca, and the job pays exceptionally well. Enough to pay the electric bill, and more.”
“All right, all right,” Dante shoved the rest of the pizza into his mouth, chewed and swallowed quick, “I’ll go pay her a visit. Anything on the job?”
“No, she wouldn’t give me the details, something about stealing her stake or something – I don’t know,” Lady sounded exasperated, so Dante could only imagine how the conversation with. It brought a bit of a smile to his lips. “Just go offer your services, she’ll wire the money to me when it’s done.”
“H-hey, I’m the one who needs it, I’m doing the job!”
“I’ll wire you your portion afterwards.”
“Portion? Look, Lady—”
“I’m the one out here finding jobs, Dante. If you want full pay, you could do the same.”
He sighed, but wouldn’t press it. He could do more than what he was doing, but his mind was distracted. It had only been a couple of days since the chaos calmed down, and he couldn’t get those days out of his mind. He’d seen Vergil! Vergil had been alive! And now…now he was gone. Dante still felt the phantom pain across his palm at their parting. All those years, he’d assumed Vergil was dead, and now? He comes back like that?
And leaves?
So, rather than spend time looking for jobs, Dante spent it in places he had no understanding of: libraries.
It wasn’t going well.
“All right, all right. I’ll go get this handled. Talk to ya soon, Lady.” He hung up the phone and stepped out of the booth, slipping his coat over his arms as he made the short walk back to his business and pulled the keys to his motorcycle out of his pocket, twirling the ring around his finger before he straddled the bike, put the key in the ignition, and set off down the road towards the finer part of town.
The guard at the gated community didn’t want to deal with him, but that was fine with Dante. He just drew back, used Ebony to shoot the control panel, and the gate swung open for him, letting him speed off down the road to the home address of Celestine diFrancisca, who had one of those fancy circular drives which wrapped around an absolutely gaudy fountain of an angel pouring water out.
“Tch.” Dante couldn’t help but roll his eyes at it as he walked up to the door and lifted a hand to knock, only to have the door pulled open by an old, dignified man in a suit, “Heeey, Alfred!” Dante greeted, dropping his hand to the stranger’s shoulder and patting it as he walked right on in like he knew the place, “good to see you!”
“The name is Nathan,” the butler glowered as he lifted Dante’s gloved hand – well, finger, really – between two of his own fingers to get it off of him, “we were alerted to an intruder heading our way by security and assumed it would be you or—”
Dante didn’t let him finish, “Well, if you let the gate guard know you hired me, probably wouldn’t have had any issues there, Alfred. But I know you have a busy life looking after all Brucie’s toys.”
Nathan sighed. “Miss diFrancisca will see you in the Green Lounge.”
“Compared to what, the Red Lounge?”
A pause.
“Is there a Red Lounge? That would match better.”
Nathan sighed again, “The Green Lounge is this way, sir.”
“At least it’s not the Blue Lounge, that would just be a clash,” Dante couldn’t help himself as they moved down one of those absolutely bland cream-and-tan hallways. Shame she wasn’t an eccentric rich person. Even the flooring was boring, all neutral tones. He had some hope for the Green Lounge, all of which were dashed as he entered and found it to be a pale and inoffensive green, with plants that had no flowers.
Green.
“Tch.” And diFrancisca wasn’t there yet. So he walked to the couch.
“Can I get you anything to drink, sir?”
“Yeah! You have any Jack Daniels?” Dante kicked his feet up over the arm of the couch, and crossed his arm over the back of it as he leaned into the plush cushion, “I mean, any whiskey will do, but that’s—”
“Very good sir, I shall bring you water.”
“You’re killing me, Alfred!” He declared as Nathan turned away to get him water, apparently. He sighed, dropped his arm, and fell back to lay on the couch, legs dangling over the arm still. He didn’t move until he heard the door open again, steps much lighter. On sitting up, he saw a small blonde woman, who may as well have been a porcelain doll with her perfectly coiffed curls and painted on features.
Pretty.
Not really his type, but sometimes women like that were surprising with their interests in slumming. So he put on a sly grin and leaned into the back of the couch again, “Well, well, you must be Celestine diFrancisca.” He offered his hand over the couch, “I’m Dante.”
She ignored his hand, but held to her manners as she offered a courteous dip and slight flourish of her hands outward, “Pleasure, Dante.” She walked around him, likely giving him a wider berth than needed.
He sniffed at himself. “Do I smell that bad?” he asked aloud.
She would not answer, of course. Likely stunted by her society to never be impolite as she made her way to her desk, “All right, all right, so let’s get into this. What demon is troubling you, hun?”
He could see the distaste, “You will forgive me if I do not begin yet. I do not wish to repeat myself.”
Dante arched a brow at that, “Repeat yourself?”
The answer was likely in the sound of steps from the butler, and another following.
