02-22-2017, 07:01 PM
The tell-tale ding-a-ling of the bell positioned over the door snapped Dante from his concentration. One of the leather couches he had been trying to improve on the left side fizzled and shimmered, before finally dissipating a puff of prismatic substance. He sighed, bringing up his left hand to rub at his tired eyelids. Dante hadn't quite fallen asleep, but his sort of meditative trance undoubtedly warped his concentration, much less his sense of time. What time was it, anyway? The devil hunter groggily looked to the analog clock over the rim of the entrace, but after a few moments of the second hand not moving, he gave up.
"Well, now," Dante's vision panned down, sizing up his new visitors, "I don't suppose you're a customer?" From past the rugged polish of his boots on the desk, the red-coat could see three humanoid shapes- a well worn robot with a bulky purple casing, flanked by two lanky navy-blue 'bots adorned with literal spikes. All of them appeared to be well-acquainted with combat, but none of them looked the type that might need the services of someone like Dante.
Which could only mean they were here on their own business. Ugh, no thanks.
"Sorry, but we're not open yet. You'll have to come back tomorrow," The devil hunter jabbed verbally, managing to hide the sneer that would typically come with such a dismissive tone. Predictably enough, none of them were fazed by this- with their eyes looking to be permanently built into those unimpressed empty stares, they could probably never look fazed.
"You," The violet robot, presumably the leader of this little dispatch squad, stepped forward with a whirring clank. It spoke, with more definition and an ambiguously male voice- though still very artificial. "You are a Prime, yes? One chosen by Omni?"
Dante's sigh could only managed to be one step away from an exasperated groan. What gave it away this time, he wondered? "And where'd you get that idea, huh?" The devil hunter retorted, his words laced with his sardonic brand of venom.
The machine did not answer, taking only another step forward. The planking of the shop creaked under the rigorous steel footing. "I understand you are here against your will," it began to prattle off, "And so I come with an opportunity to give you what you deserve." To the maker's credit, there was some amount of effort to make the voice sound genuine, but it still might as well have been a recording. Especially so, considering no effort was made to even acknowledge Dante's own response. "The chance to become a part of something greater," it continued, stepping aside Dante's footrest of a desk.
The devil hunter rolled his eyes, very obviously not giving the missionary any attention. "Never cared much for the possessive types. I'll pass."
A servo-laced palm collided with the desk, but Dante did not budge. "You will not refuse. You cannot," The oversized toaster groaned out with more force, as if something set his dial from brown to black. "We can help you make this world rightfully ours."
Dante couldn't help but get a little impatient, and it was starting to show. When were they going to cut to just taking him by force, as the villains always did? That brand of persuasion, he could deal with. "Well-" Dante trilled, letting the syllable hang on his tongue sarcastically, "If that big face of yours can also bake pizza, then I might be interested."
He looked face-to-face with the missionary machine properly, donning a devilish smirk. "Because I know for sure you're just talking out your rear-end, buddy."
Unfortunately, Dante's masterful strategy had been initially banking on the leader attacking first. Instead, with just a flash of those yellow eye-slits, both of the lanky machines at the door lunged forward and lashed out. They weren't fast enough to seize Dante before he kicked off the desk, flipping heels-over-head as a pair of fists smashed the old wood down the middle.
His boots met the wall first, and as Dante's weight followed, he bent his legs and kicked off the wall. With stylish fervor, the half-devil plunged both feet forward and into the steely face of a now-fittingly-named Heel Navi. Dante's flying dropkick flopped to a stop on the ruins of his desk, and he whipped out his pistols to meet the robot he didn't just send flying. A shot from Ivory under that boxy chin sent the Navi belting back before it could wind up another blow. With a moment to spare, the devil hunter lurched his back forward to sit upright, the quick pickup managing to narrowly avoid the leader's own overhead attack.
Dante straightened out upright, flashing his guns in opposite directions. Ebony towards the door where the first spike-bot had taken a spill, and Ivory at the two robots sprawled over the remains of his work station. The violet droid yanked his energy broadsword from its pedestal of scorching antique woodwork, meeting Dante's gaze. The half-human hadn't changed his expression, still wearing that demonic smirk.
"I should apologize for my companions," The robot spoke again, his forearm now brandishing the dark-fueled weapon that temporarily replaced his right hand. "They are drunk with power, so little sense left in them. They are not nearly as forgiving as the rest of us."
The devil hunter laughed- a single, sharp scoff at the disc-head's excuse for politeness. He waved Ivory at the destroyed timbers under the robot's feet. "What, and that's supposed to excuse all the damage you just did?"
"All superficial." Another flash of the machine's eyes, and his two allies stood up right quick, faces glaring with their respective newfound damage. "In time, everything shall be broken down- and remade, in the image of Nebula."
Dante's own glare intensified, his eyes alight with inner power. "Don't bet on it."
"Well, now," Dante's vision panned down, sizing up his new visitors, "I don't suppose you're a customer?" From past the rugged polish of his boots on the desk, the red-coat could see three humanoid shapes- a well worn robot with a bulky purple casing, flanked by two lanky navy-blue 'bots adorned with literal spikes. All of them appeared to be well-acquainted with combat, but none of them looked the type that might need the services of someone like Dante.
Which could only mean they were here on their own business. Ugh, no thanks.
"Sorry, but we're not open yet. You'll have to come back tomorrow," The devil hunter jabbed verbally, managing to hide the sneer that would typically come with such a dismissive tone. Predictably enough, none of them were fazed by this- with their eyes looking to be permanently built into those unimpressed empty stares, they could probably never look fazed.
"You," The violet robot, presumably the leader of this little dispatch squad, stepped forward with a whirring clank. It spoke, with more definition and an ambiguously male voice- though still very artificial. "You are a Prime, yes? One chosen by Omni?"
Dante's sigh could only managed to be one step away from an exasperated groan. What gave it away this time, he wondered? "And where'd you get that idea, huh?" The devil hunter retorted, his words laced with his sardonic brand of venom.
The machine did not answer, taking only another step forward. The planking of the shop creaked under the rigorous steel footing. "I understand you are here against your will," it began to prattle off, "And so I come with an opportunity to give you what you deserve." To the maker's credit, there was some amount of effort to make the voice sound genuine, but it still might as well have been a recording. Especially so, considering no effort was made to even acknowledge Dante's own response. "The chance to become a part of something greater," it continued, stepping aside Dante's footrest of a desk.
The devil hunter rolled his eyes, very obviously not giving the missionary any attention. "Never cared much for the possessive types. I'll pass."
A servo-laced palm collided with the desk, but Dante did not budge. "You will not refuse. You cannot," The oversized toaster groaned out with more force, as if something set his dial from brown to black. "We can help you make this world rightfully ours."
Dante couldn't help but get a little impatient, and it was starting to show. When were they going to cut to just taking him by force, as the villains always did? That brand of persuasion, he could deal with. "Well-" Dante trilled, letting the syllable hang on his tongue sarcastically, "If that big face of yours can also bake pizza, then I might be interested."
He looked face-to-face with the missionary machine properly, donning a devilish smirk. "Because I know for sure you're just talking out your rear-end, buddy."
Unfortunately, Dante's masterful strategy had been initially banking on the leader attacking first. Instead, with just a flash of those yellow eye-slits, both of the lanky machines at the door lunged forward and lashed out. They weren't fast enough to seize Dante before he kicked off the desk, flipping heels-over-head as a pair of fists smashed the old wood down the middle.
His boots met the wall first, and as Dante's weight followed, he bent his legs and kicked off the wall. With stylish fervor, the half-devil plunged both feet forward and into the steely face of a now-fittingly-named Heel Navi. Dante's flying dropkick flopped to a stop on the ruins of his desk, and he whipped out his pistols to meet the robot he didn't just send flying. A shot from Ivory under that boxy chin sent the Navi belting back before it could wind up another blow. With a moment to spare, the devil hunter lurched his back forward to sit upright, the quick pickup managing to narrowly avoid the leader's own overhead attack.
Dante straightened out upright, flashing his guns in opposite directions. Ebony towards the door where the first spike-bot had taken a spill, and Ivory at the two robots sprawled over the remains of his work station. The violet droid yanked his energy broadsword from its pedestal of scorching antique woodwork, meeting Dante's gaze. The half-human hadn't changed his expression, still wearing that demonic smirk.
"I should apologize for my companions," The robot spoke again, his forearm now brandishing the dark-fueled weapon that temporarily replaced his right hand. "They are drunk with power, so little sense left in them. They are not nearly as forgiving as the rest of us."
The devil hunter laughed- a single, sharp scoff at the disc-head's excuse for politeness. He waved Ivory at the destroyed timbers under the robot's feet. "What, and that's supposed to excuse all the damage you just did?"
"All superficial." Another flash of the machine's eyes, and his two allies stood up right quick, faces glaring with their respective newfound damage. "In time, everything shall be broken down- and remade, in the image of Nebula."
Dante's own glare intensified, his eyes alight with inner power. "Don't bet on it."