13th Avenue had most certainly seen better days. Once bristling with quiet life, traffic, and shining neon signs, the street has long been been overtaken with destruction and bleeding darkness. Only a single lamp arched over the road attempted to shed any light on the oppressive shadow, revealing glimpses of battle and ruin between accused dark creatures and those who fell to them. All manners of vehicles were strewn aside, damage, or torn apart in the chaos. Not a single sign of life dared show itself- except for one.
Combat boots plodded on the dry pavement, littered with specks and smears of various bloods. For a moment, Dante steeped into the light and paused, peering over one such spatter in particular. Jet black and oily in consistency, the son of Sparda ran a pointer finger over the drop and brought it up to his nostrils.
The most adept hunters of any profession or species, not necessarily devil or animal or human, made use of all their senses to track a target. This certain scent proved nearly indescribable at first, which made it unique and therefore distinct. After a couple sniffs and a few moments of consideration, Dante made some connections. Something like the scent of nickel or copper when you rubbed it in your hand, mixed with some foul industrial odor- maybe petrol or sulfur. There was some other different quality to the smell that poked out, but nothing he could actually compare to scents he knew. Maybe it could be something like a primordial ooze or whatnot.
You should taste it and find out. Maybe it'll get you powers!
Even for you, that's terribly stupid. You would stop licking blood off a blade if it turned out to be acid.
Well, yes, I suppose I would. Whatever you're doing, then, it better lead us to more slaughter-
That's enough.
Satisfied with his inspection, Dante wiped off the substance onto his pants. He stood up straight again, probing over the street. His boots started clomping along again, carrying him to the next intersection, where the path of carnage down 13th Avenue came to a stop. Here, a most distinct trial could be found: more apparent drips of that sinister Darkling fluid, where it could not be so easily mixed with the complexion of oil or the skid-marks of tires.
Whatever those robots were, they had to have come from some certain place. The devil hunter glanced down the opposite lane, able to make out a small wake of havoc. Almost everything the Darklings touched seemed to leave a medium of evidence, from leaks of that fluid to marks of damage from excessive force. He would find whatever hell these deranged things crawled out of and destroy it.
"And, hey, what the heck. Maybe someone would appreciate it for once," Dante thought aloud, officially beginning his new mission.
Quote:To be continued in Descent...