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Maybe the crazy zealot was right…
At this point it was too easy to believe that his very nature doomed him to Hell. And now he was stuck in the middle of active preparation.
Or maybe he'd already passed the Inferno's gate.
No, please, not again!
The endless carousel of distorted visions became a routine at this point. Yet every time it felt so real. He felt the flames licking at his feet, the pungent scent of blood and scorched flesh filling his nostrils, he heard himself screaming until his voice broke. But all in vain, all in vain…
Too late.
Some sins cannot be undone.
“I know you'll never forgive me.”
Resonating with his thoughts, a quiet voice called out from far away.
For a moment, the burning avalanche subdued, and Dante felt a terrible cold. He was seized by a strange paralysis, unable to move even a finger. At the same time, the distant voice drew closer, slightly muffled as if sounding from beneath a glass dome.
“At least, you shouldn't.”
Something in this tone stung with unexpected pain. The verdict sounded far too categorical to his ears.
“But you're an idiot. A kindhearted one.”
A mix of alien tenderness and sadness echoed with a heartache.
When did she start talking like that?
Wait a minute… who is she?
Like a live wire, the question sent a jolt through his body.
A new string of images flashed before him.
Red and green. Two mournful eyes striking him with palpable remorse. A phantom burning in his neck. And the voice. Her voice.
“I'm sorry, Dante.”
Lady.
Now he strained his ears, greedily drinking in every word.
“I'm so sorry…”
Well, yeah, you better-
“Fuck, I swear, I didn't know they'll put you on ice.”
Ice? What ice? Is that why it's so cold here?
“Still not an excuse…”
The voice died in a suffocating silence.
Not an excuse, little brother…
He felt the hot breath against his neck.
No, not again!
Dante fought with all his might to cling to the slipping reality, but his mind was giving up, starting the torture once more.
Lady, please, talk to me, Lady!
Say something! Just don't leave-
The last thing he heard was a muffled sound. A sob.
Was she crying?
Dante could no longer be sure, as a blurry veil clouded his own eyes.
Images of the past rushed through his exhausted consciousness.
The devil was crying. Again.
***
Dante had learned to recognize her footsteps.
They were a bit heavier than the others. After all, Darkcom's armor served as a reliable indicator.
The lab rats remained mostly silent. Only occasionally could he discern the scratch of their pens or the clicking of a keyboard. Maybe they even had small talks a few times, but they failed to resonate with Dante in any way. He didn’t even feel much regret when his restless subconscious dragged him away into another circle of hell.
But when it comes to Lady…
He waited for her with the desperation of a traveler sighting an oasis in the desert.
“How can I catch you up?” she usually started.
And he was grateful that at least one person on the other side remembered he had once been a living being, rather than a subject for dissection.
But, after all, it was her fault.
Lady never failed to remind him of that, either.
Yet, in the middle of his own torture, Dante could find no strength in himself to be angry. He was sick and tired of listening to her apologies and then echoing them back to his brother.
The depth of their regrets was so similar, he could only laugh. Truly, birds of a feather.
“I feel like I'm leaving you in the dust. Again.”
Lady, please. You're the only thing that keeps me intact at this point.
Every time he heard the endless sadness in her voice, he thought of a million jokes he could’ve said to cheer her up. A perfect punchline to drop after her depressing words. Any remark that could make her blush before she punches him.
She is quite adorable, when she blushes, he remembered.
“But I've got a war to end.”
And this part Dante didn't like at all. He was failing to keep track of time. He couldn't even tell how many hours or days had passed since Lady’s last visit. The fear that one day she'd stop emerging in the room, chilled his blood no less than the surrounding ice.
Please, just be careful.
We still need to talk properly.
Dante desperately wanted to give a sign that he could hear her, but it was all in vain. From all the efforts, his consciousness only grew more weary, gradually dissolving, lulled by Lady's voice.
For once it was a good oblivion.
Without dreams, without nightmares, without pain.
***
“Thawing them out takes a while.”
Thawing out?
Heat surged through his body. He thought he'd grown used to everything, but this time, something was clearly wrong.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!
The pain was no longer a part of his nightmare. He felt himself burning in the very same fire that had once consumed his brother.
No, none of this is real! Wake up! Wake up!
The chorus of terrified voices only fueled his internal panic.
What are they doing? Where is Lady? Is she out there?
With a titanic effort, Dante flung his eyes open. And immediately regretted it.
The newly regained sense alarmed like a siren. Everything around blurred into crimson spots. He could see nothing, a murky liquid was stinging his eyes. In a flash of panic, Dante realized he was suffocating, bound hand and foot.
“Holy, that thing is awake!”
A hysterical voice hammered against his eardrums.
Dante had enough.
“LET ME OUT!”
He heard a roar, before even realizing it was his own voice.
“Everyone, back!”
The agony of the machines reached its peak. Something above his ear exploded, blasted, shattering glass into shards. The liquid suddenly vanished, and he felt himself falling, snapping the bonds that held him.
Maybe it was for the best that Lady wasn't around.
He still needed to work on his heroic landing.
***
"I have three conditions."
Fixing his posture, Dante crossed his arms and gave his best stern expression.
"First off, bring me food. And don't you dare try to shove some healthy rations down my throat! Real food! Pizza, chips, cola - what have you got?"
The white coats quickly exchanged meaningful glances, more terrified by his menu than by his tone.
"Second, give me my coat back. Distinguishing features: red, shabby, probably stained with demon blood somewhere. Didn't have much time to scrub it, you know."
It seemed he lost his audience. Dante gave a weary sigh.
"I can't receive Lady looking like this!" He gestured dramatically, eyeing his grey bodysuit with pure disdain.
Then again, she’s already had quite an eyeful of him in this thing... That’s awkward.
"Oh, and thirdly! Get her in here!"
"Who?" squeaked one of the scientists.
"I told you, Lady!" Dante scratched his head in irritation, trying to fish the right name out. "Lieutenant Arkham or something."
"Do you by any chance mean Commander Arkham?" a female scientist in glasses quickly suggested.
"Wow, quite the promotion!" he whistled, spinning around in the office chair. "And she didn't say a word to me. What a humbler."
Following his lead, the lab rats also visibly relaxed, letting out a collective breath.
No, this wouldn't do.
Dante frowned and tried to put a more menacing edge on his voice.
"In any case, get her here! I’m only negotiating with her! The rest of you - dismiss!"
Seeing his listeners start to scramble out of their seats in a panic, he couldn't resist the pleasure of barking:
"Before I change my mind!”
Everyone was gone with the wind. He could only hope they wouldn't forget his food.
Silencing his stomach's protests, Dante cast a wistful look around the deserted room.
The cryopod was still sparking after his exit. Something was smoldering in the corner. The dark space was lit only by the surviving computers, which kept blinking at him with their cold monitors.
Maybe he could manage to turn on a couple of tunes? Just so it wasn't so gloomy.
Lady would appreciate it.
He ran his fingers along the back of the office chair. The very same one Lady pulled out every time to sit closer to him. He remembered the squeak of its wheels on the floor well.
But Lady didn't know he could hear her. She didn't know that he had long ago responded to her every "sorry."
Should he tell her? Or maybe pretend that nothing had happened at all?
Dante gave a bitter chuckle. Avoiding sharp edges was so typical of him.
Let's keep it cool, at least.
Flopping back into the chair, he propped his feet up on the table, relaxed and slowly turned toward the door.
“Yeah, I'm back, Lady.”
The lazy smirk on the lips was his favorite mask, after all.