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When he woke there was only darkness. He was warm, and wet. Had he fallen asleep in his bathtub again? Then the warm water wasn't making any sense. His tub was an old claw foot. Had he spent the night there he would have been freezing by now.
His far too little world was kept at a comfortable temperature that almost lulled him into a sense of comfort. He could stay there and drift. Now that Vergil had given him the biggest middle finger he ever could have and jumped into literal hell instead of coming home with him, who was left to wait for him to come home? Enzo had his own problems and Morrison had a family. Nell was dead. Lady? Who knows. He never got her number.
He was all alone. Again. He was always alone, stuffed into dark places where there was not enough space for anyone else. His bubbles were small. Just enough for him? No. Dante always felt as caged as the budding monster waiting inside.
The devil that had awoken in him made his blood run hot. His father's blood loved the place he had found himself in. It was almost like a little nest and whatever insectoid genes he had inherited from dear old dad sang the darkness high praises.
However, it was cramped. He couldn't even stretch his legs in there no matter how much he pushed and wriggled around. All his naked ass found was fluid and glass. Bummer. Dante wanted out.
His devil form was surprisingly malleable and agile. It was a mind thing, apparently, and if he let himself drift just enough then he could turn his entire body from hard-as-steel to liquid-smoke in an instant. Breaking out of wherever he had ended up in was easy, peasy, Dante-goes-squeezy.
Once his eyes had reformed he found himself in a classic and stereotypical laboratory. The smell of antiseptic was absent, so he assumed it was government run.
Several computers around him seemed to monitor his now empty containment cell. The pod hadn't been opened or even damaged yet, so they merely registered his absence as if it were just another thing to happen. No silent alarms or warning sirens ruined his excursion into foreign territory. Then Dante saw something that made his day: a pizza. It was still fresh enough to steam the delicious sharpness of salami into his nose. To his utmost joy he didn't smell any olives on it either. Jackpot.
That was how the assigned research team found him a few minutes later; sprawled out on a desk, claws-deep in the gooey goodness. Of course he was covered in cheese too. Fangs didn't mix well with it but that was a problem for another time. He looked at them and continued with his snack.
There were three of them in total. Two women, one man. He could already see the brunette with the ponytail would be the fierce fun police because she had the exact same sharp glare as Vergil whenever he wanted to read in peace. The other two behind her shared nervous glances with each other and proceeded to press themselves against the wall to get as much space between him and themselves as possible. It was almost as if they were unaware he could just hurl energy projectiles at them or, eh, stop time?
Dante snickered to himself. The demonic echo in his voice distorted the sound and made the two wallflowers squeak. He didn't see the rolled up newspaper coming for his nose though. That brunette had a mean swing and quite the backbone. Dante decided he liked her best even if she had a pole stuck where the sun didn't shine.
"Number 12, how did you get out?" she asked, arms crossed and not expecting an answer from him at all.
Demons rarely spoke to humans, and most devils preferred their own language. Him being the charming mix of bug and lizard likely made the wrong first impression. Then again talking meant interviewing, and that meant he would have to get up and be social – and dare he say polite.
Bleh. He had to finish a pizza.
"Doctor, professor, any ideas?"
The man dared to come closer when Dante stayed docile. His colleague hid behind his back, but appeared to be just as curious as the other two. She brushed a few strands of blonde behind her ear and pushed her glasses back where they belonged as she looked at Dante.
"Careful doctor, we don't know what it is!" he warned her.
It. Ha. Dante sent the guy a dry look of disappointment. He grabbed the slice of pizza that he had been gnawing on and jumped off the desk. When that sent the two back to the safety of their wall, Dante leisurely strolled into the men's bathroom.
Once he returned, the professor amended, "Number 12 seems to be male. My apologies."
"Don't waste your breath, these things are mindless animals. They only think about feeding and destroying things. It probably just drank from the urinals." the fun police huffed, "although it is fortunate that 12 enjoys pizza more than human flesh."
"Ma'am, that was unnecessary."
Agent brunette shrugged her shoulders and sat down in front of one of the computers.
"Let's see how you got out of there."
No matter how much of a babe she was, Dante didn't want her to look at his nudes or escape route. He growled and followed the cables coming out of the thing with his eyes. Once he found the one plugged into an outlet he slashed it with his pinky claw. Naturally, the entire machine went dark and the woman let out a yell.
"Have you any idea how much that costs to replace?!"
Dante shrugged.
"You… can understand me." she realized.
The shock of that revelation turned her pale as a bedsheet, and made the doctor invade his personal space. Now that they knew he was fluent in human, the formerly shy blonde was all over him. Her hands knocked on his horns and tried to pull on his scales as she grinned like a five foot two maniac.
"Uh, maybe we should give him some space…" the professor suggested. Now Dante liked him best.
"We can't waste this opportunity! This is the first non-hostile entity we have captured! Imagine the things he could tell us." she replied.
"Can he even speak?"
Yes, he could, but he decidedly would not.
"He liked the pizza, maybe we can bribe him? C'mon boy, here, we need to do some tests. Can you do that for me? I can get you more pizza!"
In his mind, Dante was howling with laughter. Thankfully that didn't translate well to his demonic face. Just like his father's ugly mug, it seemed to be set in an eternal frown, so he doubted the researchers could read his thoughts. That let him play along just fine, and with another devilish grin, Dante obeyed in the most malicious way he could think of.
He jumped on another desk, put his hand behind the coffee mug on it, and made eye contact with the agent, doctor and professor.
"No! No, no, no that belongs to my boss-! Please don't!"
Dante pushed it just a little closer to the edge of the desk.
"Don't you dare!"
*Crash*
"That's it! You are going back into your pod!" the agent screeched, making her colleagues step back in fear.
She hadn't counted on Dante being that fast, so when she gave chase he evaded her with ease. Her heels slowed her down even more, and he almost took pity on her when she huffed and puffed in frustration. He finally settled down on a file cabinet that was conveniently high enough to get him out of human reach.
"Stupid beast!" she hissed.
Dante held up his hand and gave her a thumbs up.
By then the man had grabbed a clipboard and pen. He was approaching him carefully, but much less awkwardly than before and held both items up.
"I want to ask you some simple yes or no questions."
Inwardly, Dante groaned, but by then the guy deserved at least some treat for not being a total ass or weirdo. He sat up a bit straighter to show that he was listening.
"Right. So, are you male?"
A nod, simple and clear.
"Good. Do you have a name?"
Another nod.
"Amazing! Is it something a human can pronounce or does your kind have its own language?"
This time Dante held up a claw and nodded for one, and for two. The professor furiously scribbled down everything.
"Are you native to Earth?"
This time Dante hesitated. He frowned, then gave a so-so answer. Before the professor could continue, Dante pointed down.
It was the still miffed brunette who sarcastically joked, "He's obviously a demon right out of hell."
When Dante gave them two thumbs up and an enthusiastic nod the mood plummeted into shocked, silent dread.
He doubted the question was meant to be heard by him, but when the doctor asked, "are all of our subjects demons?" Dante nodded again.
If he was number twelve then they had at least eleven others locked up in containers that weren't actually keeping them. Speaking from experience, they probably only stayed put because the pods they were placed in were just too cozy to leave. This could turn very ugly, very soon. He had to do something.
He stole the professor's pen and grabbed what looked to be an old envelope out of a trash bin. On it Dante wrote his warning.
None of your cells are safe. You are in danger. I can help you get rid of them, if you leave me alone after the job is done.
With shaking hands the professor took his note and read it out loud. His amazement was dulled by the fact that they were sitting on what was likely a ticking organic time bomb. However, the doctor was the quickest to recover and seemed to be the only one capable of working with him.
"Deal. Now, what do we need to do?"
"First you will have to check how many of them are demons, and how many of them are devils." he sighed, "there's a big difference."
"He speaks!?"
Dante nodded and waved at the agent, "he does. Hi."
Then he turned to the professor and doctor, "the ability to think is something reserved for devils. Demons are usually either pitiful critters or dangerous monsters. Don't let our biology fool you. My father was a hooved cockroach, but he spoke like an Oxford professor."
"Fascinating!"
The agent behind them sighed and threw her hands in the air, "great. If someone hadn't broken my computer we could have checked the surveillance cameras."
"We'll have to go and pay them a visit anyway. I can kill the dangerous ones before they become a problem and then throw the small fries back into the underworld."
"And why would you help us?" she challenged him, "how do we know you aren't just gaining our trust to slaughter us later, demon?"
"Devil, thank you."
Dante sighed again, and shook his head in disappointment.
"Have you ever heard of Sparda?"
The professor jumped in to answer him by shoving a book into his face. Dante knew that starstruck expression and dreaded what would come next. Once his eyes had refocused on the well-loved hardcover book that his chin chitin had almost speared, he recognized his father's true face on the cover.
"The legendary dark knight, believed to be–!"
"Well, I knew him as just plain old dad." Dante interrupted the fanboying, "and saving humanity runs in the family. If you don't trust me then cool. Don't. Trust my old man's legacy instead."
The agent was the first to recover from that sudden revelation. She stood up swiftly, and offered him a hand as well as a warm grin.
"Glad to hear it, dark squire. My name is agent Celeste. These two are doctor Hamilton and professor Beaumanoir."
And after that day, several millions of property damage, as well as a few traumatized employees, and a pair of pissed panties, Dante was put on a special exclusion list and would never again be bothered by the government.
He also found out that the fun police had sent him the bill for both the mug he had shattered, and the computer he had clawed, sending him into just a little more debt.