Hellfire in New York

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 16: Ron Weasley Plays Check to the King

It was early in the morning, the second day after the attack on Xavier's mansion, when an MPV rolled into an underground parking lot three blocks from the Hellfire Club in New York. The vehicle parked carefully, and a group of people clambered out of it to make their way over to a dim corner. They were an odd-looking bunch. One was covered in blue fur and one wore urban camouflage, while the others had on black leather uniforms.

"OK," Beast said to the group, "this is where we got out last time. I'd be very surprised if it hasn't been sealed or guarded."

Cyclops nodded, his face grim. "Well, we're equipped to find out. Hawk, Ariel, go!"

Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss, then pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, throwing it over himself and Kitty. Ariel then took his hand and the two of them sank through the trapdoor, gliding past the ladder as if on a lift.

"It's locked from this side," Kitty whispered.

"No problem," Harry replied. "But let's see what's at the bottom first."

They settled into the alcove that held the ladder. Two bored-looking mercs were sitting on stools in the corridor.

Kitty, whose back was against the wall, pulled Harry close and whispered urgently, "I'm going through the wall. Wait for me to make my move, then you take out the other one."

She turned, still covered by the Cloak, and slipped through the wall. Harry moved cautiously to the edge of the alcove. A moment later, Ariel stepped out of the wall behind one merc and slid her hand into his back. The man stiffened and collapsed. Harry whipped off his Cloak and petrified the other. Quickly, Harry climbed the ladder, leaving Kitty on guard, and opened the trapdoor with Alohomora.

Soon, the entire group was in the corridor. They turned to Cyclops, waiting for the word. Scott hesitated for a moment. The X-Men had been created to defend, not attack; the decision to make this aggressive invasion of the Hellfire Club had not been taken lightly. But Remus had assured them that, left unchecked, the gateway Selene was opening would allow creatures through whose power and evil dwarfed that of Phantom. This assault was necessary, and the assembled X-Men were committed. The others would be beginning even now.

"All right," said Cyclops. "Remember, our objective is the Hell-Gate. There are four objects that are the keys to it. Destroy two, and the Gate closes. We go in, find the Gate, close it, and get out. Try to avoid combat if you can, and use minimum force if you have to fight, especially the mercs and wizards. Stay together as much as you can. Let's go!"

They moved off down the corridor, following it until the architecture changed, becoming suddenly medieval.

"Hold on!" said Remus. "This is the route to the dungeon. Unless they've cleared it, the only passage through is blocked. We need to go back and check some of the side doors."

"Let's go ahead," Hermione advised. "Selene or another wizard could easily have cleared the passage by now."

The passage was indeed cleared, but there was a guard in the dungeon - an eight-foot tall, winged, goat-headed demon.

"Abyss Goat!" yelled Remus. "Watch out for its magic!"

The demon hovered in the air and made a gesture. A disc of blue energy materialised in front of it to spin in the air. Bolts of golden fire spun from the edge of the disc, flying out at the invaders. One flew straight through Ariel; another expended itself harmlessly on Colossus. Remus threw up a shield, but the impact forced him back, and a pit opened up behind him. As he teetered and fell, Beast and Nightcrawler leapt after him into the darkness.

Hawk, Charm, Firebird and Hunter scattered. Hunter dived into a cell, the door of which promptly closed and locked itself behind him. Charm and Firebird flattened their bodies against opposite walls, only to find themselves flipped backwards by hidden panels. Hawk had taken cover in the large, cold hearth meant for the guards' use. He was preparing to cast a hex at the demon, when green flames sprang up around him. Remote Floo, he thought, as the world spun away from him.

Cyclops had dived forward, rolled and come up on one knee. From this position, he unleashed his eyebeams at the demon. The Goat was slammed back against the stone wall before crashing to the floor. It was on its feet fast, but not before Colossus reached it. A powerful kick to the midsection, followed by two awesome punches, sent the thing to the floor, moaning in pain.

Colossus stood over the fallen demon and looked at Cyclops. "What do I do now?" he asked.

Scott's face was grim. On the matter of demons, he agreed with Wolverine. "Kill it," he told Peter. The big man faltered for a moment, and Ariel said, "Remember what Hermione told us, Petey. You're only destroying a shell - the demon itself just goes back to Hell."

The Goat was recovering quickly, so Colossus couldn't hesitate any more. He seized the demon by the horns, and twisted with all his terrific strength. The Abyss Goat's neck snapped. It twitched once, then dissolved into a cloud of oily, black smoke that sank into the stone floor.

A cell door banged open, and Hunter dashed into the room, looking around. "Where's 'Mione?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Cyclops told him. "We seem to have lost most of our group. We just have to hope we can find them, or they can find us. Eyes on the prize, Hunter!"

"You don't have to tell me, Cyclops," Ron reminded him. "Charm can look after herself better than almost anyone. Anyway, if she's in trouble, I'll know!"

"OK, then we stay on task."

They went, but it was clear the alarm had been raised because a force of Hell Guards and msira soon met them. The fight was short and brutal. Cyclops' eyebeams smashed the enemy formation, allowing Colossus and Hunter to deal with those demons who had survived individually. Cyclops noted that Ron was using his wizard skills, rather than tackling the creatures physically, and was showing a mastery of battle magic almost equal to Harry's. Strong as the demons were, they were no match for the armoured might of Colossus. Ariel flitted through the fray, her ability to disrupt electrical fields extended to neural networks as well as electronic ones, and it seemed that in earthbound form, the demons possessed humanlike nervous systems.

Then, just as the last demon fell, Hunter put his hand to his neck. "Shit!" he spat, adding, "Back in a bit!" and vanished.

*****

Hermione had found herself sliding down a chute to arrive in a bright, modern corridor. A short, fat, young witch with a pimply, wide-mouthed face and frizzy, black hair pointed a wand at her. "Gotcha, Mudblood!" she crowed. "If'n I wuz you, I'd drop ma wand right now."

"Well, I'm not you, dearie!" replied Hermione, casting a hex that sent her opponent reeling against the wall unable to speak, hear or see properly. Spinning round, Charm transfigured a merc's stunner into a snake, which the man promptly dropped with a yelp before being petrified.

Then a steely grip closed round Hermione's throat, and a familiar deep voice spoke in her ear, "You must understand, I have the greatest respect for you." As the blackness took her, Hermione felt the chain around her neck snap, and her pendant fall away.

She awoke seated in a comfortable chair. She looked around. The space she was in appeared to be a conference room of some kind. Her high-backed chair was at one end of a long table. In front of her was a carafe of water and a glass. As she tried to move, she found that her ankles were securely shackled to the chair, and that metal bands encircled her wrists. The bands were attached to chains, which were in turn fastened to the arms of her chair. In the centre of the table, well out of reach, were her wand, communicator, emergency transponder and utility belt.

"I apologize for the restraints, Miss Granger. I hope they won't be necessary for long," said a man's voice from behind her. "Help yourself to a drink. The water is Evian, and quite safe."

Sebastian Shaw came round her chair, moved along the table and seated himself halfway down its length. Hermione's throat was dry, so she poured herself a drink - the chains were long enough for that - and she took several sips before asking, "How do you know my real name?"

Shaw waved his hand. "Please, Miss Granger, you should have some idea by now of my resources, though I admit, you and your friends have presented some unique puzzles." He opened a manila folder that lay before him. "Hermione Jane Granger, born 1980, daughter and only child of John Granger and Barbara Reeder Granger, oral surgeons based in Surrey, England. Your ancestry includes, it seems, Mr. John G. Reeder, Chief Investigator for the Public Prosecutor's Office, and a Pandora Holmes, sister to the famous Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

"So much for your ancestry, Miss Granger, but you, yourself, are quite an enigma. Your records show all the normal childhood illnesses and immunizations. You went to a playgroup, whatever that might be, and then a local primary school. You scored high on standardized tests and got good grades. Several of your teachers noted that you did not mingle well with your peers, either insisting they do things your way or withdrawing from the group. There were also reports of odd incidents.

"Your name was put down for a nearby grammar school by your parents. But then, part way through the summer vacation, it was withdrawn. After that, Miss Granger, you pretty much vanish, at least from your educational system! We finally found your file at the Local Education Authority. It's been archived, and has a stamp across it with the letters HGWTS (MoM)."

Shaw looked up at her quizzically. Hermione managed a bland smile and Shaw's grin widened.

"Nothing to say?" he remarked. "From what I've heard, that's not like you, Hermione. May I call you Hermione?"

"You may not," she told him sweetly.

He gave a short laugh before going on. "Anyway, we had a heckuva job tracking you after that. We found a course of orthodontic treatment, stopped halfway through when you were about fourteen, and a National Insurance Number - some kind of Social Security number? - issued on your sixteenth birthday. You applied for and obtained a provisional driver's license when you were seventeen. Then you took a seven-day intensive driver's course the first week of this last summer vacation, and got your license. You're also the registered owner and insured driver of a second-hand Renault Clio, which your parents bought.

"And that's it!" Shaw announced. "Not much, is it? Still, we have more on you than on any of your friends." He opened another file. "Listen to this: Harry James Potter, birth date and parents unknown, no birth certificate. Listed as 'around one year old' when a court order was issued naming Petunia Evans Dursley and Vernon Dursley as Persons With Care. They never adopted him, which is kind of odd. He went to a local school, like you, but his reports were different. The teachers said he was bright enough but lazy. He was also accident-prone and a magnet for trouble. Like you, odd things happened around him.

"Also like you, he was put down for a local school, then just vanished. His file was there, stamped like yours. His National Insurance Number was issued at sixteen. After that, zip!

"And he's not the worst! Ronald Weasley, aka Hunter. Height six-four, weight around 210 pounds, red and blue. No birth registered, no parents known, no educational records. The man doesn't exist! For a non-existent guy, Miss Granger, your boyfriend is pretty goddamn substantial!"

"He's my fiancé," Hermione corrected. "And you realise, he'll be coming for me. I wouldn't want to be you when he gets here."

"Congratulations to you both," Shaw replied with apparent sincerity. "I have no doubt that Hunter will find his way here soon, and I know enough of his capabilities to expect him to get past my guards easily. He won't find me such a pushover. I've learned a little about wizards since we last met, Miss Granger!"

"However," he went on, fixing Hermione with an intense look, "I hope that there'll be no need to fight. I have a proposal for you and your friends. I chose to put it to you, Miss Granger, as you are not only a very bright young woman, but also Muggle-born, and therefore more likely to understand the issues."

"I'm listening." Hermione was playing for time, knowing that Ron would appear sooner or later.

Shaw inclined his head, and began, "When Emma, Henry and I first founded the Inner Circle, we had a very specific structure in mind. The White Suite was to provide education, technical support, public relations when necessary, and contact with neo-Mutants. The Black Suite was to be the operational arm, gathering intelligence, collecting resources, and taking direct action.

"With that in mind, Emma became the White Queen because of her Academy. I invited Charles Xavier to become the White King, but he refused. Donald, as White Rook, provides advanced technology, while Jason Wyngarde, the White Knight, was to be our PR man. We also intended to recruit Warren Worthington as the White Bishop, his social connections and charitable work making him an ideal first-contact man.

"My original choice for Black Queen was Raven Darkholme, whom you may know as Mystique. I was also intent on obtaining the services of Wolverine as Black Knight, and the Mutant Forge as our armorer and Black Rook.

"Now, at that time, we knew nothing about your wizarding world, of course. It was during our investigations into it - after our meeting with you and your friends - that I made contact with Selene. It's clear to me that we can't ignore your world, so the Inner Circle requires a third suite, the Red Suite, formed entirely of wizards.

"My proposal is, Miss Granger, that you become our Red Queen! With you on board, it would be easy to persuade Harry Potter to take the position of Red King. With your old schoolmate, Draco Malfoy, as Red Bishop, Miss Weasley as Red Knight, and your fiancé as Red Rook, the suite would be complete!

"Think carefully, Hermione. I know that Harry has had his disagreements with your Ministry of Magic - Mrs. Lestrange told me about that. As Red King, with the Club's resources behind him, he could begin to put things right. Together, all of you would have a chance to make a real difference for good in your world without having to wait until many years had gone and you'd achieved what is called 'maturity', which means nothing more than being absorbed by the system!"

Hermione gave an unladylike snort, then said, "And, of course, the opportunity to get filthy rich and incredibly powerful in the process is just a side-issue? We know what your agenda is, Mr Shaw, and altruism isn't on there."

"Altruism is for idiots!" Shaw snapped. "Anyone as smart as you are should appreciate the value of enlightened self-interest. I'd have figured-"

The door behind Hermione blew in, and the body of a merc flew past her shoulder to land on the table. A tall figure appeared at her side, and the voice she loved most in the world said, "There you are, love! Been looking all over for you!"

****

Hunter appeared in a brightly lit corridor. The place was empty, with no sign of Hermione. That was odd, as the Portkey pendants were attuned to each other. He looked around more carefully, and saw a glint of gold at his feet. He picked up the pendant, realising the chain must have snapped. This was worrying, as the Portkey charm was only activated if one of the wearers became unconscious.

Still, there was more than one way to skin a cat! Recently, among the heterogeneous junk that cluttered The Burrow, Ron had discovered a book on an almost-forgotten wizarding skill - Dowsing. Ron was forever losing things, and the idea of being able to find them quickly appealed to him, so for once he had studied quite hard. Dowsing didn't work on people, but that wasn't a problem. Ron knew perfectly well that, short of losing her finger, nothing could persuade Hermione to take off her engagement ring: "It tells the world that you're mine, and I'm yours, Mr Weasley!" she had said, "So it stays right there until you replace it with a wedding ring!"

Concentrating on the ring, Ron extended his wand in front of him and turned in a slow circle. He felt the wand quiver, and set off in the direction it pointed. He had to traverse several corridors, and it wasn't quick, because he was moving stealthily. Anyone who had known the gangly, clumsy first-year Ron Weasley would have been shocked to see the hefty, young man padding noiselessly along like a stalking tiger.

Eventually, he reached a large, impressive-looking door, outside which a dumpy figure in elaborate robes lounged. She had her back to him, and Hunter moved up silently behind her before saying, "Excuse me?"

The witch spun around, revealing one of the ugliest faces Ron had ever seen. She gaped for a moment, then her expression changed to what he could only assume was meant to be a coquettish grin.

"Well, hi, hunk!" she said. "You lookin' fer that li'l Mudblood? Why bother? I bet I got lots more ta offer a guy like you!"

"You might at that," Ron replied, "but I'd have to keep you on a lead in the park, and that'd really cramp my style."

Her eyes flashed, and she grabbed for her wand, but Ron wasn't here to waste time. He'd recognised Ardelia from Remus and Emma's descriptions, and knew her to be a vicious and wantonly cruel bitch. Chivalry be damned! he thought, landing an open-handed slap that sent her crashing against the wall, where he bound her with his wand.

Then, without further ado, Hunter kicked the big door open. Inside was a small anteroom, where four mercs were waiting on guard. One of them, carrying a telescopic baton, immediately came up to Hunter on the threshold.

Ron looked down at him and grinned amiably. "Morning. I'm looking for a slim brunette in black leather."

"Ain't we all, pal!" replied the merc, before swinging the club at Ron.

Ron blocked hard against the man's wrist, then drove rigid fingers into his solar plexus. The merc dropped like a stone.

One of the others had picked up a pistol. With a flick of his wand, Hunter sent him crashing upwards into the ceiling, then down again to the floor, out cold. The third raised a sub-machine gun and yelled, "Freeze!" Ron Transfigured the weapon into a pair of heavy steel shackles that locked round the merc's wrists and pulled him to the floor with their weight.

The final guard stood with his back to the inner door and a pistol trained on Ron. He attempted nonchalance, but there was a quaver in his voice as he said, "Bien. You would be a credit to ze Legion. But now eet ends, no?"

"No," said Ron, and blew the unfortunate Legrasse through the door and across a large table in the other room. Hunter followed him through to where a small figure sat chained to a chair. He grinned down at Hermione and said, "There you are, love! Been looking all over for you!"

"You took your time, didn't you?" she replied, mock-peevishly.

"Big place, this," he pointed out, then turned to the tall, dark man who had been watching them. "I take it you're Mr Shaw? We'll be going now, OK? Unless," Ron put his head on one side and gave a dangerous grin, "you want to play silly buggers?"

Shaw said nothing; he simply leapt across the table at Ron, aiming to land a powerful kick. But Ron wasn't there, and Shaw almost went sprawling. He smiled at Hunter, "You're quick, for a big guy!" Then he attacked again, lunging square into a wall six feet away from his target. Shaw shook his head, moved forward, and tripped over his own feet.

Hermione was hard put not to howl with laughter. Ron had Confunded his opponent as deftly as she could have done it. Shaw was casting around wildly, trying to figure out what had happened. He snarled at Ron, "Bella told me you weren't much of a wizard!"

"Looks like she cocked that up, as well as all the other stuff," Ron remarked, then he tossed something at Shaw's feet and gestured with his wand. Dark green vines suddenly sprang from the floor to wrap themselves tightly round the struggling Black King.

"That's Devil's Snare," Ron told him. "I reckon you'd better not struggle too much, or it'll grip tighter. If it gets round your neck, it will strangle you. Personally, I couldn't care less, but Professor X would be miffed if we killed anyone."

Shaw fell still. "Good work, Hunter!" he said with a grim smile. "Miss Granger, think about my offer. It still stands."

"What offer?" asked Ron, as he freed Hermione from the chair.

"Doesn't matter. I'll tell you later," Hermione said. Then she flung herself into Ron's arms, and for the thousandth time, he lost himself in the feel and smell and taste of her. After a while, Hermione gathered up her equipment, and Ron levitated Shaw, still bound in vines, into the chair she had occupied.

"The communicators aren't working," Hermione said.

"My people are jamming them," Shaw said from the chair.

"Oh well, we'd better go looking," said Ron cheerfully. "We're sure to find our friends - or trouble!"

"Or both!" said Hermione, taking his hand.

*****

Ginny felt the wall tilt behind her, and swore. Why is it always me? She careered down a chute, hit a mat at the bottom, rolled and came up on her feet, wand ready. She was in a large, wood-panelled room lit with a mellow golden light. Across the room, a figure advanced toward her.

"Well, well!" said a woman's voice. "Ginevra Weasley, isn't it? Pity, I'd hoped to get Potter."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," said Ginny. "Just be thankful you didn't get Harry! He'd take you apart in a breath. Mind, so will I; you almost broke poor Harry's heart when he thought you'd killed Sirius, and I take that very personally!"

Bellatrix put her head on one side, "Spirited little minx, aren't you? Sebastian says I'm not to kill you, but I hope you resist, so I can teach you some manners."

Ginny stared. "What are you wearing?"

Bellatrix looked down at herself. She was wearing black satin - a basque and high-cut bikini briefs - over net stockings, stiletto-heeled thigh-boots, elbow-length gloves and a swirling cloak. "Do you like it?" she asked. "It's the official regalia of the Black Queen!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Does Selene know she's been replaced? Never mind. That gear's a bit kinky, but you've a decent figure for an old lady."

"Why thank you, Ginevra!" Bella smiled mirthlessly. "You've not so bad yourself, but do watch what you eat. Those extra pounds really show when you wear tight, black leather!"

"Right!" declared Ginny. "That's the bitchy dialogue over with. Now, are you going to start monologuing, or shall we do this?"

Bellatrix sighed. "I was rather enjoying the girl talk, but if we must, we must. Let's get on with it!" Bellatrix raised her wand, and the duel began.

Both women realised right away that this was going to be no easy battle. Bella had experience and guile on her side, but Ginny was skilled and had more endurance. After a while, the air around them was sparkling with stray magic. The air smelled metallic. Bella was impressed by the mettle of her young opponent, but felt it was only a matter of time. She had a few tricks up her sleeve!

Then Ginny said conversationally, "I see you're using Ravenclaw's Defence against me."

Bella raised an eyebrow. Very cool! she thought. She replied, "It seemed appropriate in the circumstances."

Ginny nodded. "So, naturally, you expect me to use Silverwand against you?"

Bella shook her head. "I find Paracelsus cancels out Silverwand, don't you?"

"Not," said Ginny, "if your opponent has studied her Logan!"

"Logan?" The unfamiliar name caused Bella to hesitate for a second, and Ginny's snap-kick took her neatly between wind and water, sending her gasping to the floor. Ginny kicked Bella's wand away, and bound her. Bella got her breath back and fumed.

"Cursed Weasleys! Blood traitors, the lot of you! You can't even defeat me as a witch."

"Oh, I could have done," Ginny answered, "but it would have taken too long. I'm not the most patient of people, you know. Anyway, in a fight, you do what you have to do to win, don't you? Logan and Harry taught me that.

"Now then," Ginny mused, "do I leave you here and go looking around? Or do I give you an Itching Hex in just the right place to make you tell me where I need to go?"

Before Bella could reply, a new voice came from above, "Firebird!"

Ginny looked up. "Ariel? What's up?"

Ariel was floating rapidly down from the ceiling, speaking urgently. "No time! Kneel down and grab hold of her!"

Ginny did as she was told, and Ariel settled to the floor, kneeling on the other side of Bellatrix to seize her arm. Ginny felt the odd pins-and-needles sensation as Kitty phased all three of them.

"Just close your eyes and don't let go," Ariel advised. Then the roof fell in.

*****

Dante stood in an alley opposite the Hellfire Club and stared unseeing at the impressive façade. He was in a seething fury. They're doing it again! Why won't they learn? he fumed to himself.

Millennia ago, the world had been almost overrun by demons. The creatures had wrought havoc, obliterating humans casually as they followed their private feuds or set up their own little kingdoms. It might have stayed that way forever if a demon had not taken a stand for justice.

Sparda, one of the mightiest of all demons, had sided with those few desperate humans who still fought for freedom. He had become their leader, and with his power and their courage, had begun a long war that eventually drove the other demons back into Hell. The price Sparda paid was exile on Earth; his reward was to become a legend - the Legendary Dark Knight. For perhaps three thousand years, Sparda had roamed the Earth alone, hunting and slaying those demons that still occasionally broke through. Finally, some twenty-five years ago, the loneliness had become too much for him, and Sparda had taken a human wife, settling in the hidden land of Vie de Marlie. There his wife had borne him twin sons, Dante and Vergil.

But, yet again, some foolish mortal had opened a portal to Hell. This time, in order to close it, Sparda had been forced to re-enter Hell, and had never returned. His sons had been raised by their mother, but she had died - of grief, people said - while they were still in their teens. Dante had trained himself to follow his father, but Vergil had taken a darker path, seeking only power.

Just over a year ago, the insane sorcerer Arkham had persuaded Vergil to re-open the portal Sparda had closed. Dante had intervened, and there had been a long and fierce fight. In the end, the brothers had joined forces to kill Arkham and seal the breach, but in the process, Vergil had been lost, trapped in Hell. Now the only keepsakes Dante had of his family were the sword Rebellion, a gift from his father, and the amulet around his neck, one of a pair the twins' mother had given them.

Now Dante stood in a foreign city far from Vie de Marlie. His eldritch senses told him that yet another stupid mortal was inviting demon hordes onto Earth! Not again, never again! he raged. His father and brother's sacrifices were not to be so mocked!

Yet, this time, Dante might not be alone in the fight. He had seen the crowd of people entering the alley at the side of the Club. Some of them had been in black leather, others in camouflage, but all had been oddly vague, indistinct. Dante himself knew little of magic, but his half-demon senses were not so easily fooled as those of a normal human. The intruders had been using some kind of spell to hide themselves. It hinted that they might have the same goal he did. If so, well and good. If not, then they better not get in his way!

With that thought Dante ran out of the alley and across the street. He ignored the chaos of screeching brakes and blaring horns his abrupt eruption into the busy street caused. Bounding over and from the hoods and roofs of halted cars, he reached the opposite sidewalk, mounted the stairs in three long strides and hit the massive double doors running. They crashed open, one of them torn clean off its hinges, and Dante started down the hallway without breaking stride.

Suddenly, guards in old-fashioned outfits, wielding batons and TASERs surrounded him. They were humans, no threat to Dante, and he brushed them aside like insects. Clusters of TASER darts found their mark, but human weapons had no effect other than to sting and infuriate the young demon-hunter. His instincts led him to the cellar, where he came across the first signs that others had been there before him.

There were unconscious bodies scattered around the wine cellar. Dante stopped to examine them. There were men and women, all wearing blue bodysuits, all unusually fit , and most of them had weapons lying near them. Far more serious weapons, he noted, than the clubs and TASERs in evidence upstairs, though little more dangerous to him.

At the end of the cellar were the remains of what had once been a concealed door. It looked as if it had been slashed away from the wall by some kind of blade or claw. It opened onto an elevator shaft. Dante looked down, the car was at the bottom. He shrugged, and stepped into the shaft. Gripping the cables with his gauntleted hands, he slid rapidly down to the top of the car. There, he ripped the inspection hatch open, dropped through and pushed the elevator doors aside. More insensate bodies littered the corridor, mostly human, but not all in the blue uniforms. Some wore robes of one kind or another, but two were not human at all.

Those two were demonic, venomous jomothomsira, and they were not unconscious but dead. They'd suffered terrible wounds from what seemed to Dante to have been long, strong claws in sets of three. As he watched, the bodies began to dissolve. He held out his hand and muttered something, and a cluster of small, red globes rose out of the bodies and settled in his palm. Dante closed his hand on them and tucked them inside his long coat, then went on his way.

At the end of the corridor, a heavy, wooden door had been blown off its hinges and into splinters. Here there were no bodies, but an odd sign was etched into the stone floor. Something about the sign tugged at Dante's intuition, and with his usual impulsiveness, he stepped onto it. There was a moment's impression of a whirling vortex, and then he was in a large chamber like a cave.

At the far end of the room was a broad hearth, in front of which two men were standing. Both were tall, but one was blond and dressed in gray. The other was dark and wore black leather. But Dante was more interested in what seethed between him and them. A mass of demons - msira, grumsira and jomothomsira - was crowding to attack the humans. The two men were defending themselves well, using what appeared to be magic wands to blast, burn, hurl or outright kill demons. But there were too many of the hell spawn; it was only a matter of time.

Beneath Dante's devil-may-care attitude was a fierce respect for courage, so he didn't really stop to think. Drawing Rebellion from across his back, the son of Sparda leapt into the fray!