07-12-2017, 06:28 PM
Dante looked over one of the few things he held pride for in the Omniverse- the business he had intended to start. The van-shaped hole that since replaced the front door had been lazily blocked off with several strands of warning tape. A plank sign with "CONDEMNED" spray-painted in dripping orange was nailed over one of the windows. Past the yawning broken entrance was the darkness of an unlit foyer, the overhead light long since died out.
What a shame.
Gilgamesh's single unbroken gauntlet materialized in Dante's left hand. Anger and frustration guided it to the condemned sign, where he wrenched the steel fingers under the wood and pulled hard. The planks began to splinter at the nails, but only the top half broke loose from the harsh treatment, hanging by a single unbroken fiber.
Dante seethed, air hissing through his teeth. He stopped, balling his fists and tensing every muscle in his body. He let go, exhaling the breath in a sigh and letting the pressure escape. The devil hunter did not feel particularly better.
He walked up the two stone steps, reaching out with his gauntlet to tear away the tape all at once. With a closer look, Dante could tell the van had long since been removed. The damage the charging vehicle caused, however, was now much more apparent to see. A large hole in the wall lay with the remains of two doors splayed over it, exposing the storage room, basement access, and the bathroom. Two deep black skid tracks lay straight across the floor, indicating where the tires had come and then gone. Some demented mixtures of oil, brake fluid, and alien blood lay seeped out in half-dried puddles all over the place, leaving disgusting stains that no janitor would take pleasure in cleaning.
With every step of Dante's boots, the aging battle-torn floor creaked in protest. As he dropped the carrying case containing his weapons, the wood visibly buckled, just one more bash away from breaking entirely. The devil hunter took another good look as the sorry sight and sighed. Where to even start with this place...?
The Son of Sparda began to pace forward, considering his options. In the end, he merely upturned the single chair that remained in one piece, then collapsed into it.
For a while, Dante just sat there. The opposite view of the shop was not very welcoming, either. The remains of a Heel Navi remained in one corner, flattened against a smashed jukebox. The physical programs head was practically obliterated from when it had been blasted with Terminator.
...Heh. A killer robot, wrecked with a "Terminator". Irony.
What a shame.
Gilgamesh's single unbroken gauntlet materialized in Dante's left hand. Anger and frustration guided it to the condemned sign, where he wrenched the steel fingers under the wood and pulled hard. The planks began to splinter at the nails, but only the top half broke loose from the harsh treatment, hanging by a single unbroken fiber.
Dante seethed, air hissing through his teeth. He stopped, balling his fists and tensing every muscle in his body. He let go, exhaling the breath in a sigh and letting the pressure escape. The devil hunter did not feel particularly better.
He walked up the two stone steps, reaching out with his gauntlet to tear away the tape all at once. With a closer look, Dante could tell the van had long since been removed. The damage the charging vehicle caused, however, was now much more apparent to see. A large hole in the wall lay with the remains of two doors splayed over it, exposing the storage room, basement access, and the bathroom. Two deep black skid tracks lay straight across the floor, indicating where the tires had come and then gone. Some demented mixtures of oil, brake fluid, and alien blood lay seeped out in half-dried puddles all over the place, leaving disgusting stains that no janitor would take pleasure in cleaning.
With every step of Dante's boots, the aging battle-torn floor creaked in protest. As he dropped the carrying case containing his weapons, the wood visibly buckled, just one more bash away from breaking entirely. The devil hunter took another good look as the sorry sight and sighed. Where to even start with this place...?
The Son of Sparda began to pace forward, considering his options. In the end, he merely upturned the single chair that remained in one piece, then collapsed into it.
For a while, Dante just sat there. The opposite view of the shop was not very welcoming, either. The remains of a Heel Navi remained in one corner, flattened against a smashed jukebox. The physical programs head was practically obliterated from when it had been blasted with Terminator.
...Heh. A killer robot, wrecked with a "Terminator". Irony.