The night begins to draw to a close as the first rays of dawn start to peek over the horizon. The late night establishments—bars, restaurants and the like—close their doors for the day, knowing in several hours they will reopen again for the next night. One bar in particular was preparing to close its doors. Its owner was wiping off glasses and placing them on the shelf so they look presentable for his next round of late night patrons. The establishment, named Gates of Hell, had an old world gothic atmosphere. A variety of statues were set about, each depicting a winged figure in a different pose. A couple statues have the winged figure blowing on a horn. Another set shows it crouching down. It is an intimidating pose, but its smiling face beguiles this. A few more statues show the winged figure dancing merrily. Deep red drapes and aristocratic architecture gave the building the look of a bygone era.
The owner continues to clean glasses behind the bar. A wide variety of drinks lined the wall. Wines, liquors, and whiskeys, all of them top brand and very expensive. Their labels were designed and written in scripture not seen in many ages. The owner shines up the last glass and places it on the shelf when he hears a familiar tap of an empty glass. “You’re puttin’ them away tonight, baby,” the man said with a deep, smooth voice. He gently turns the glass, aligning it with the others.
Gates of Hell’s last customer was getting rather annoyed with the man’s meticulousness. “When you are finished playing modern home, I would like another if you don’t mind,” the woman whined with a British accent, speaking to the man like a nanny reprimanding a child.
“I like to keep my place neat. Makes it look presentable to those who appreciate it,” the man shot back.
“What I’d appreciate is some service,” the woman said, tapping her glass again.
With the glasses arranged to his satisfaction, the man tends to the woman’s drink. He takes a large green bottle from the shelf, shakes it vigorously and replenishes the woman’s glass. Dropping in a cherry completes the drink. He then hands it back to his customer and sets about wiping down the bar. The owner likes his place neat like he said. At first appearance, one would not expect this kind of behavior from him. He is a tall, large muscular man with brown skin, a bald tattooed head, and a long brown trench with a high collar. Gold rings line his fingers as well as on his left ear with bracelets and a necklace to match. A pair of sunglasses finishes his imposing look. “So, you gonna tell me what’s been bothering you? That’s the third one you had, the first two you mused over,” the man said putting the rag under the countertop.
“Aw come now Rodin, if I told you all my dirty little secrets there wouldn’t be anything left to the imagination,” said the woman.
“You’re not normally this quiet, Bayonetta. It’s beginning to creep me out,” Rodin, the owner of Gates of Hell, said.
Bayonetta is the woman casually sipping her drink. She is dressed in a form-fitting black outfit with a high hairdo and long red ribbons flowing behind her wearing a pair of butterfly motif glasses. For the past week she has been thinking about her encounter in Europe. It kept scratching at her mind no matter how many times she has tried to dismiss it. It wasn’t the demons or the angels but the man in red who was hunting the demons. Taking another sip, Bayonetta decides take Rodin up on his question. “What can you tell me about people who hunt devils?” she asks.
“Devil Hunters, why would you want to know about them?” Rodin said. If the question caught him off guard, he definitely wasn’t showing it.
“Curious,” said Bayonetta.
Knowing that’s the only answer he’ll get from her, Rodin tells Bayonetta all he knows. “Well, remember how I told how the world is divided? How Heaven and Hell are at war with each other with the Human World caught in the middle? Just like the angels can descend from above, demons can come from below. The rift between the Inferno and the Human World shifts from time to time, allowing the Devil’s minions to access the Human World. A few humans decided to combat the demons calling themselves Devil Hunters. It goes without saying that the demons have gained the upper hand as there are only a handful of them left.”
“And how many are left?” asks Bayonetta.
“Last I checked, three,” Rodin answered. “But their skills are top-notch, unlike the poor suckas years ago who didn’t know squat about demons or how to kill them.”
“You said there are three left. Would one of them be a man with white hair…,” Bayonetta started to describe the man she saw in Europe.
Rodin, hearing only part of the description, immediately knew who she was talking about. “And a red trench coat, carrying a sword that is nearly as long as he is tall. You ran into him?”
“So you know him. Who is he and don’t you dare say your frat brother.” says Bayonetta.
“I’m not surprised you ran into him, that guy is the most active of the three. His skills are unmatched. Might have a little something to do with is demonic heritage.”
“Demonic heritage?” Bayonetta’s interests were peaked.