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It was far away from his usual haunts, but after that mess with Gilver - Vergil, a primal part of his mind insisted, his name is Vergil and yours is Dante.
Regardless, Tony Redgrave had a job to do, and whether his name was Dante didn't matter. Not now. He had a contact to hunt down, he just hoped this would actually prove worthwhile. The town looked like a fucking mess. Pretty, sure, but isolated and far too 1984 for his tastes. (Years later when he walked through the gates of Fortuna, he'd think the same.)
Heh, eat your heart out Big Brother, 'cause I ain't leavin.'
His contact was a frightened barkeep who complained about black and white monsters. Didn't sound like demons, non that he'd ever seen, but there was a first time for everything, and as long as they weren't human, he didn't give a damn. If they were human, well, he'd have to do a bit of investigating before he decided whether or not he should take 'em down. They seemed like robots more than demons, but they were apparently autonomous.
"They work in packs, but I've seen them fight with themselves, sometimes they almost try to speak when hunting us. People don't go outside much anymore. I barely get a group of four in here on friday nights. Do you know what that's like? For a bar? 'S crazy, I tell ya."
"Yeah, I got ya. Normal response though, all things considered." Enough of the talking, he needed details. "Where do you usually see them?"
"All over, but mostly downtown. Do you need a map?"
"I'll figure it out."
He moved to the door, no need to stick around.
"Oh, you can't go out there like that. They'll know I called you. You should change into some of my spare clothes. They should fit you." The keep turned to go rummaging through a closet, when he felt his wrist get caught in an iron grip.
"Wait up, what the fuck do I need to get changed for?"
"They'll easily tell you're from out of town. You should also watch out for that sword."
"And why does it matter if they know where I'm from? They're demons."
"No, not the creatures. Them."
"Them?"
"The catchers. Don't ask questions, just put this on." The keep had managed to pull out a pair of dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a hoodie. He quickly ushered Tony into the bathroom and told him "Your hair is also a dead give-away. No one here has hair like that."
When he came back out of the stall, Tony shrugged, "I got something for that, don't worry. Can I leave these with you?" He gestured to his red and black leather hunting gear. The keep took them and put them back in the closet, locking it.
That finished, Dante turned to leave, "I'll be back soon."
As he stepped through the doorway, his hair bled with color until it was black as pitch and his eyes shone a blood red, the amulet on his neck fading into a beaded necklace. Sure, it was an emotastic glamour, but it was better than getting caught by the local secret police. Mini-Love wasn't really his speed. He'd be just another human until he had to fight, and then he'd start to loose it. The glamour would fade, probably disappear like a devil-trigger when he got too invested, but that's what happens when you aren't totally human. At least he wouldn't have too much of an audience.
For now, he was okay with it, but if he had to wear this damn face for more than a few hours, he was going to set this town on fire. Doubleplus-ungood.