Chapter Text
Hey everyone! Alito here. This was made on Fanfiction, but I wanted to bring it here with a couple of rewrites. It's not so different from the original one, just some changes to dialogue and a few other things. This is a tribute Damon Black, writer of DOA4:The Devil Factor for giving me the inspiration to make this crazy story. Be sure to review and tell me how it is.
The story is the beginning of DOA5, and BEFORE DmC (the reboot one).
So then let's begin.
Chapter 1: Binding fate
UNKNOWN AREA
OUTER SEA
8:32 a.m.
The sun’s blistering heat had peaked through the closed curtains of her dark room with an unwelcomed gaze straight into her face. Her bright laptop had rested to a black screen from hours of unuse while she laid with her head down on her cluttered desk of papers and documents. Last minute adjustments to security protocols and sighing off documents for her company was enough to break her down for an unanticipated nap.
She made the mistake of not taking precautionary measures once before, and she certainly would not allow herself to make the same mistake twice. Though she was perfectly well dressed and her blonde, long hair was brushed and hung in a ponytail—along with all her make-up applied—the exhaustion in her baggy eyes could not be hidden behind eye-liner. She groggily sat up and immediately reached for the half-empty cup of coffee that brought her little indulgence after the first sip.
The beautiful French entrepreneur, Helena Douglas did not bother to go to sleep the night before. Not with so still needing to be done—especially now of all times.
Two years had gone by since her last endeavors with the esteemed DOATEC takeover, and yet Helena felt that she has not helped the company reach its previous bounds as it was with under the last owner. Though, that most likely had to do with Helena’s honesty and integrity to not sell herself short to investors who were more interested in bio-chemical warfare and weapons manufacturing.
“Goodness, I am tired…" Helena muttered in French.
She stood up to legs that had fallen asleep, and a throbbing headache. She strolled towards the window and braced her eyes to be exposed to the blistering sun like a vampire. She jokingly hoped that her hunger for food was not from blood cravings.
Helena decided to leave the confines of her room to take a small stroll down the velvet corridors of framed portraits of her family lineage. Small patters of little feet tracked behind her. She smiled and fell to one knee for her energetic puppy begging for her attention. It had originally been tasked by a certain maid to take care of her puppy, but she figured a little time away with her sweet pet did not hurt; at least until they she had to bring it back to her home later that day.
"Aw, I see someone is enjoying this nice boat trip~." She cooed in French.
The dog replied with a small bark while Helena rubbed its small tummy to its delight.
"Yo! Helena!"
The dog quickly galloped out of Helena's grasp and trotted off; away from the loud and obnoxious voice that startled it. Helena sighed and slowly rose to put on a welcoming smile and turn to the man before her.
He revealed to be of African-American decent with a shaved head, goatee, and pair of shades to go with his expensive-looking suit.
"Ah, Zack. SO good to see you today." She said in English but still with a French accent. “You look, how you say...worse for wear?”
"Heh, so you noticed, huh?" Zack nervously chuckled. “Well, I just got back from some training at the nearby Gym. And phew!” Zack wiped the sweat from his brow. “You wouldn’t believe the baddies in there! ‘Specially this one red-head who fights like an MMA pro!”
"Fascinating…" Helena said irritably, holding her throbbing head from Zack’s loud voice. “...then I suppose you have considered my request?”
"Oh, right! About that, mama," Zack said with his hands on his hips. "I dunno why you need me to—"
Helena quickly raised a hand for Zack to cease his words. She quickly peaked towards every corner of the corridor for a moment, before her eyes settled back on the confused Zack. "Perhaps we should speak somewhere more...private."
"Private?" Zack repeated.
"But of course. This is an executive request from the current head of DOATEC." Helena said. "I would not want any wandering ears listening."
Helena’s emphasis on the word 'wandering' confused Zack even more, considering he saw no one around any corners. “You good, Helena? I don’t see anybody around.”
"Just follow me." Helena walked past Zack and down the hall, back towards her office door.
With little room to argue, Zack quickly trailed behind her, as the two retired into the closed door of her office.
Unbeknownst to Zack and to the full expectations of Helena, the discussion was plagued with wandering ears.
From the shadows of one of the upper corners of the corridor, a lone figure descended back to the ground, with not so much as a sound from her heeled footwear.
Standing back up was a young woman with copper-brown, long hair in an upper ponytail, and dressed in her usual (yet quite revealing) blue, ninja garbs with a wakizashi tied to her waist.
The young kunoichi had once again been left out of important discussions—far too many than what she had hoped for after the previous years of knowing Helena Douglas.
"It seems I've been left out." Kasumi sighed in Japanese. She looked towards the door with a troubled expression. "Helena…How long will you keep me in the dark ? When will you tell me where she is?"
UNITED STATES,
NEW YORK CITY BRIDGE,
SAME TIME
Dante’s life sucked.
There was no better way to describe it. Years of bouncing from one orphanage to the next as a kid, escaping juvie, gang activity, and the many bed partners that would come and go were all exciting on the surface, but slowly weighed on him well into his young adult years.
And that catch was that no one knew just how terrible it really was.
No human could save him; no institution could sustain him with safe living. Every waking moment was one eye over his shoulder at the slightest sound of trouble. Dante often wondered what the point of it all was. Why life had gifted him with the curse of both seeing and experiencing the things he did. Divine punishment for a sin he was not familiar with seemed the more fitting, considering his life choices.
And so, Dante figured a change in scenery was in order. Thus, leading him to leaning forward with his chin resting on his forearms, that also rested on the safety beams overlooking an interstate. The early sunrise peaked over the horizon of the concrete jungle of New York.
He had little money to travel far, but enough to buy him a decent shirt, ripped jeans, and used combat boots from a thrift store. A particular item that caught his eye was an old and long, black leather parka with a hood attached. Its interior was a blood-colored red with it surrounding the wrist, and the union jack on left arm. It was hard to pass up. The last bit of it was for fingerless gloves and a scarf to hide a special item around his neck.
Dante scratched his black, short hair, that was styled with the sides shadowed and the end tapering into a faux hawk finish in the back. His cold blue eyes gazed at the sun for a few moments longer while deep in thought.
Though he was one to learn to live life to the fullest, he did not exactly see a full life ahead of him. From the threat of unyielding torture, and the fighting he had to endure his entire life, it has made him question time and time again what was the point of it all was.
Especially after that awful fight from the night before. Just remembering it trudged up bad memories and emotions he was not ready to tackle. But there was one particular thing learned from that incident.
"I’m not human…” Dante muttered to himself. “...so, then...what am I?"
The thoughts in his head were drowned out by the unsettling roar from his stomach. Dante clutched his gut and chuckled.
"Yeah yeah, I hear ya." Dante said to his growling stomach. "Let's get you full."
NEW YORK,
MIXED MARTIAL ARTS GYM,
8:35 a.m.
The near-by gym was never without its stench of sweat and metal. It was modest enough to give off an old-fashioned aesthetic that one would see in a movie, yet not relent itself to, what some would consider, the modern curse of membership perks. It was perfect for the surrounding men who trained day and night on the sand bags to hone their skills toward championship status.
It was hard to believe that a woman so petite and young would call this her second home.
But one look at her ferocity in the practice ring said otherwise. She had already working up a sweat while bringing punch after punch onto her opponent with neither holding anything back. It was the poor guy who expected an easy victory, that ultimately collapsed of exhaustion against the fiery, red-haired woman.
The unassuming body and pretty face in her early twenties, was not to be underestimated once the UFC gloves were put on. Her eyes and fist were burning with the will of a true competitor. On lookers were virtually impressed with her prowess towards getting stronger, while others were paying attention to something else bouncing on the woman.
But all were taken aback by a swift kick to the head that had her opponent fall flat on his back with a heavy thud that notified everyone in the Gym. Had it not been for the protective headgear they both warn, the on-lookers could assume that was it for him, permanently. The only way to known he was still alive was shallow breathing.
"O-Oh no! I-I'm sorry!" The red head apologized frantically, "I-I didn't mean to hit you THAT hard!"
I-its...okay, Mila…" The opponent groaned.
"Really?-!" Mila gleamed. Thanks goodness, Michael! I thought I’d lost you...” She turned from excited to bashful with her cheeks red. She even fidgeted a bit as she took quick glances from Michael to the ground. "So, um…About our date tonight…"
And so, another date night, gone.
Mila dragged her feet down the busy city streets to her job, dressed in tomboyish street clothes, with her duffle bag barely hanging onto her shoulder, and workers hat with the advertisement; "Johnny's Diner" on the front of it.
She was as solemn as could be, and having to work was the last thing she wanted to do. True, Mila could not help being tougher than most of the men at that gym, but she certainly could not accept being seen as a weakling. Mila loved to fight, ever since she was young. It was only natural that she trained hard to be so strong. But what good was strength when all she was doing was punching potential boyfriends in the stomach during practice rounds?
She sighed. “Why am I like this...? Why can’t I just chill out in the ring? That or maybe I just need stronger friends...”
Mila wondered if having friends that could match her would do her any better. She just wished she didn't attract so-called ‘alphas’ that talk big game, but have nothing to even back it up. Never mind female friends, who call her names for being a gym rat, and scare men away with her skills with the fist. She wondered if there was more to work with than in the city.
She closed her eyes and let out a depressed snort. “Yeah…maybe, I made a mistake commin’ out here...Sorry, old man—oomph!"
Mila's fantasizing cost her attention to where she was walking and accidentally bumping into someone. "O-Oh, I'm sorry about that!" Mila apologized.
"Don't sweat it." The young man replied passively.
He caught a quick look at Mila up and down, and could not help but glance at the most impressive assets of her. Even through the baggy clothes, he could tell that she had a body most would kill for. No amount of cloth could hide her chest, nor any amount of headgear could shield her beauty.
“On second thought, I did kinda hurt my shoulder there.” The young man said, moving his coat off his shoulder to massage it. “Ooh, yep, it’s a lil strained.
"Oh, crap, I-I’m sorry!" Mila said frantically, "I-I got too distracted! Is there any way I can help? Need me to call a doctor?!"
"Naw, it's just—"
As if to get straight to the point for him, the young, black-haired man’s stomach roared a low, squelching growl, in need of nourishment.
"Ah, you’re starving, huh?" Mila smiled, gracious for the distraction to jump on. "Tell ya what; you forget this little fender bender happened, and I’ll treat you to a meal at my job! It’s a diner not too far from here—Johnny's diner. You heard of it?"
The young man shrugged. "Eh, I've heard good things."
"Great! I'll take you there!" Mila gleefully smiled. “Trust me; you’ll love it, uh, Mr...uh...? Sorry, what's your name?"
"Dante."
"Okay, Dante...Dante...?” Mila suddenly pondered. “Where have I heard that name before?" She wondered.
"Not exactly an uncommon name..." Dante mentioned.
She shrugged it off as a common mistake and said "You’re right. Anyway, just follow me, alright?"
"You're not gonna give much options, are ya?" Dante suspected with a small smirk.
"Hey, it was either this, or a ride in the ambulance.” Mila smirked. “And something tells me you don’t got the money for that.”
Dante had to admit he did not
"Now come on.” Mila walked past Dante, down the street, towards her diner. As she did, Dante’s eyes immediately shot down to just how tight her jeans fit her. If not for his own self-control, Dante would have at least let out the tiniest whistle.
“And by the way...” Mila looked over her shoulder with a hand on her hip and a sly smirk of her own. “...this ass you’re staring at is attached to a woman named Mila."
Dante gave a toothy grin with his hands in his coat pocket. “Then I hope the woman can treat me to somethin’ so I don’t forget it~”
She gave a wink, before continuing forward; even going so far as to add a little sway to her walk. Dante did not turn down the offer of a meal nor the offer of something else afterwards, and proceeded to follow Mila to the diner.
For Mila, it was nothing but a harmless bit of fun. She knew his shoulder was fine and was probably just finding an excuse to talk to her. She had a good eye for how men were in the city. It was a good opportunity to earn some extra tip money. On top of that, she had to admit, he was pretty good-looking with the cheekbones and glossy eyes. Perhaps something more could morph from this chance encounter.
Dante, however, did not much care for why she offered him food, only that he could fill his stomach with something with little money. Unfortunately, he did not believe it was enough to cover the food.
"Looks like I'm dinin' and dashin' again." Dante thought.
He continued the stroll as they came up to a crowd of people. He made sure to keep his eyes on more than just Mila’s ass as they brushed through people going the opposite way. Dante could not help but see the people as grey blobs compared to the vibrance he had been so accustomed to. Each one had their heads down, minding their own business. He brushed past a business man, a kid and his mother, an elderly woman, a pair of twins, a red face, a few guys in suits, a man walking his...
Dante suddenly realized; one of those things was not like the other. He did not let it know he saw its red face. Instead, he only aimed his eyes towards his peripheries for any sudden moves. The creeping dread, fused with the slow settling miasma that was filling the air.
Even so, Dante could tell they were coming. He could hear them faintly; calling for him. Hungry for his blood.
"Ew, what's that stench?" Mila said covering her nose.
"What?" Dante questioned.
"You don't smell that? Ugh, whatever it is, it's really bringing me down." Mila groaned.
Dante could not believe what he was hearing. Was it simply a coincidence. The smell was undeniable, but there was no chance that a mere human could smell the stench that smelt right now.
"Wait...you...feel it too?" Dante cautiously asked.
Mila turned around, confused. "Feel, what?"
Dante could see that she had no clue what he was referring to; only the smell was what she could detect. In all the years that Dante has delt with this realm, no human has ever been able to be inclined to feel its presence coming; no less smell it.
"Hey," Dante asked, getting Mila's attention as they walked.
He considered telling her about what was to come, but already thought he would sound crazy for it. No sense in losing out on a free meal so quickly.
"Your...diner's got insurance, right?" Dante questioned.
"Uh, Yeah," Mila nodded in confusion, "Why?"
"Just askin'."
UNKNOWN AREA
OUTER SEA
SAME TIME
"You were attacked…by creatures?"
"Yes. And I believe it has something to do with a certain company. Ring any bells?"
"I understand what you are saying, but I assure you, DOATEC has nothing to do with—"
"I did not say it was from you, Helena."
Helena sat back in her office chair to mull over logical explanations as to who was behind this attack. There was no need to over-think it on the guest’s part. Helena could tell by the bitterness in his voice that he had only one Blonde French target locked in.
"It seems what we speculated came to pass, hasn't it, Bayman?" Helena said.
"It appears so." replied her casually dressed companion.
Helena had to admit to herself that he was completely out of his element in those clothes he wore. She was so used to seeing him in tactical gear, that civilian clothing did not particularly look bad on him. If not for his hardened expression and rough appearance, Helena never would have guessed this was the same Russian man who once killed hundreds of gun-toting rebels with only a knife.
"After all, that bastard has been quiet for the past three years—Too quiet for my taste." Bayman said with arms crossed.
"A wasted concern." Helena denied; sipping her iced tea, and let out a sigh.
“Is it?” Bayman challenged.
“After his loss of DOATEC, Donovan is nothing more than a failed scientist with no funding to back up his experiments. I assure you that I have taken all precautionary measures to protect DOATEC Tower should he strike. There is nothing that pathetic little man can do to stop me.”
Helena did not mean to come off as boasting, but she did owe it to herself for rebranding the company to regains support from her constituents, shareholders, employees, and the other companies she does trades with. Why not bask in the glory of it all? Donovan's name is no longer the most-desired in the criminal underworld, so no one's gonna stand behind him anymore. And with DOATEC slowly rising to power over many other smaller companies, she was literally sitting on money. She felt invincible where no one could touch her.
Bayman snorted. "Becoming a bit too big for our britches, are we? Regardless of how you fortify your little kingdom, it does not change facts that Donovan will not be slowly settling into an early retirement. And that creature that attacked us out there was the definitive truth to that."
Helena raised her hands in defeat and annoyance. "Then, by all means; please tell me what the creature looked like."
Bayman took a seat on top of her desk, touching one of her stress balls without her permission. "It was more than just one.”
“Oh?” Helena said with peaked interest.
“Their numbers were massive." Bayman recalled, getting every detail into his description. "Gnawing fangs and sharp, bloody claws, along with deer-shaped horns on them…They were obviously not of this Earth…Nor did they seem human made."
"Well, there is your proof. " Helena waved her hands up and rose from her chair to stroll past Bayman. “They sound more like those Fiends that our anti-social ninja friend dealt with.”
Bayman snorted. “A shame if it is; what with him being banned from stepping foot in New York City.”
Helena giggled. “They’re still trying to fish the parts of the Statue of Liberty from the ocean.”
"In any case, these creatures have the stench of Donovan on them.” Bayman said. “Perhaps there is a reason for that.”
The way in which Bayman spoke made it obvious that he was implying something Helena did not like. It has been the plaguing thought over her head since she took up the position as head of DOATEC. She made sure to siphon out all previous employees who were on Donovan’s payroll. Background checks made it easy to see who were unwilling slaves to him, and who were already as corrupt and evil before signing on.
Helena turned to face the brute with a knowing smirk. “Careful Bayman. If I did not know any better, I would say you’re trying to...assume something.”
Bayman snorted, as he tossed the stress ball towards Helena, who caught it. “Please. If this was Donovan, it would be an army of that little ninja girl again.”
“Be happy you lived knowing Donovan isn't the one trying to kill you." Helena smiled, tossing the stress ball up and down.
She then made her way to the black couch overlooking the city through the sky view window. The feeling of soft leather was far more preferable to her desk seat.
"However, such creatures as you described do pique my curiosity. I will assign a specialist to look into it. Though it is not a very good description to start with."
"Humph! So sorry I do not have a keen eye while almost being mauled to death." Bayman seemed to be trying sarcasm, though Helena could not tell by the way his expression never changed. "So then, if that is all..."
Helena waved him off. "I do enjoy these conversations with you." She said with obvious sarcasm.
A middle finger from Bayman was his send off before making his way to the door.
"One last thing,” Bayman said, looking over his shoulder towards Helena. “You may have inherited the monster’s palace, but don’t believe you are not susceptible to his curse."
Finally, Bayman walked out the door with an echoing close that rang Helena's ears just as Bayman's last words filled her thoughts.
She was on the verge of throwing the stress ball at the door just to get rid of her rising anger. How dare he compare her to that of an ego-driven narcissist, after all she had done to get to where she was now.
The road was long and paved with trials and tribulations; both good and bad, but she stuck through it all to reach the level of success DOATEC was steadily heading towards. Sure, she felt great bravado for her work, but anyone would feel victory with when their prime objective was ever so close. She only wished her mother and father where still living to see her success.
She took a moment to calm her thoughts, and looked over her shoulder to speak. "You’re off your game, young kunoichi. What would your darling sister think?"
Right on cue, from behind the pillar's shadows emerged the young, copper-haired, blue-dressed, Kasumi, who appeared as a meek young woman, but had a troubled expression for the French business woman.
"Helena…" Kasumi said impatiently. "Please, how much time do you plan to waste?"
"Hmph. You know it is not right to eavesdrop onto other's conversations." Helena scolded. She rose from the couch to talk with her face to face. "I know why you are here, and I am certain that ALPHA has nothing to do with what happened to Bayman."
Kasumi brows furrowed. “That’s not good enough! With each passing day, ALPHA is growing stronger! I...” Kasumi touched her chest. “...I can feel it.”
Helena saw how much of a toll this search was taking on Kasumi. Her posture was not as dignified as she remembered it to be, there were bags under her eyes, and her skin was paler than her usual glow. But telling her anything about ALPHA could wind up getting herself killed in the process.
She walked right pass Kasumi and said, "Honestly…I do not know. ALPHA-152 was a one-of-a-kind asset; DOATEC's first artificial combat life form..." She stopped, and looked back at Kasumi, realizing that these words were of no comfort to the ninja at all. "…But rest assured. We will locate her. I can promise you that, Kasumi."
Kasumi’s fists were clenched tight. "I don’t need empty promises..." Kasumi said sternly to Helena, "If I can't get any answers from you...then I have to find him."
"Him?" Helena inquired. "Who is this "him"?"
Kasumi turned to face Helena. "He's the one who's connected to Alpha somehow. I don't know why I suddenly know him, or why he's so important, but I just have a gut feeling that he help me find my clone. He is my top priority."
"Which is another reason why you have come here, isn't it?" Helena figured.
"Yes. He's somewhere in New York, and he's my key to searching for ALPHA." Kasumi said with determination. "I will find the Son of Sparda…I will find Dante."
Meanwhile deep within the treacherous and mighty depths of the sea, an ever-looming evil had heard the name of one such fool who had sparked its rage. Though it has been laid to rest so very long ago, its awakening brought forth a great tremor of the Earth beneath it. Its eyes glowed a red of fiery hatred for all living creatures for its forced eternal slumber being interrupted. It could only utter one name as it began to once again rise from the bottom of the sea...
SPARDA…