A note from Fenice: Well, here's the revised first chapter of the new Mitternacht, formerly Devil May Cry Code: Veronica. Here, at the beginning, I'll have the disclaimer and a recommended list of songs that can help the mood of the story go along.

DISCALIMER: I don't own any rights to Devil May Cry, Resident Evil, or the songs I am to use to modify the mood for this fic. Capcom owns DMC and RE, and the companies that produce the music, as well as the bands, own the music.

Dark Horizons-Dargaard
Angels with Last Plagues- Left Hand Solution
Am Anfang War Die Fisternis-E Nomine
Das Omen-E Nomine





Autumn, 1998


The city lay in ruins, shambles of buildings and vehicles smashed against each other in the street. Streetlights bent over backwards and live wires danced from the splintered telephone poles. Papers littered the area of inhuman silence and stillness, even in the weather. Abandoned police vehicles, overturned, continued to receive information and light up the reflections from the pools of water that sprayed from the fire hydrants. Crimson stains of blood lay splattered against the windshields and windows of the ruins and markings of human insides sprawled along the gutters and sidewalks. Every once in a while a rat or some other creature would take a bite of what was once a human organ and drag it back into their hole under the deserted city. Many dismembered body parts lay victim to the weather inside mangled cars and deserted buildings, half-eaten decapitated heads of human beings lay around their desks or in the halls of buildings that they worked or lived at, their twisted mouths open for a scream no one can longer hear. Welcome to Raccoon City.


Summer, 2001--Raccoon Rebuilt......... destroyed again.


The Undead walk and the Demons rampage inside the buildings and the mansion that housed a full base of scientific experiments underground. Survivors of the human race have either been feasted upon or escaped. The remaining S.T.A.R.S. members in the city have fallen victim to the undead and in their last moment had called an outsider of another region. The dying young man who slumped near a dismembered body that had a cell phone dialed a solitary number, and a password afterwards.

"Devil May Cry..." The receiving end rested upon a rather young looking red- leather clad man, his boots upon the desk. A half-eaten box of pizza and half a dozen empty bottles of beer lay upon the desk and in the wire wastebasket. In the corner was a half-broken drum-set and near the wall was a pool table. Indeed, it was a shabby place, but it was business. Outside in neon lights was the cursive sign "Devil May Cry" and on the end of the sign was the outline of a woman holding twin handguns that looked recently fired. Inside, the man listened. Dial Tone. And then a broken connection to a despaired man on the other end.

"You're th... who'd ta... dirty job... Dante... Rac... oon City's lo... Zombies everywh... S.T.A.R.S... no surviv... 2 Mill in th... prison... Island..." interference kept the man from hearing the whole information. The caller was suddenly interrupted by a loud crash and then a scream broke out, killing the connection between the two men. Confused, the red leather-clad man hung the phone up and contemplated, tapping the air with the foot resting on top.

"Raccoon City... Raccoon City... I've heard that name before." The man known as Dante Sparda leaned back in his swivel chair, picking up a half-empty bottle of Budweiser. He held the mouth up to his lips and thought a minute before connecting the liquid to his taste buds. He thought back to the strange call he had gotten only a minute ago. "Zombies? S.T.A.R.S.? 2 Million in the... 2 Million!?" Dante sat up suddenly. "Fuck! That could get me a better apartment and perhaps I could upgrade Ebony and Ivory," a small smile played at the half-demon's lips. "They were saying I could keep that money - but... where is it?" he stood up and headed towards a bookcase that held a scrapbook of old newspaper clippings. Pulling the book out, he walked back over to the desk and did a piss-poor job of cleaning the surface off before setting the scrapbook down and opening it. Inside were articles about supernatural and somewhat impossible happenings around the areas of New York City and Raccoon City. And of an isolated island that held a prison that was run by the Umbrella Corporation.

"Raccoon City..."

He scanned over one of the larger articles about the lab inside Raccoon City and a bio-experimental weapon that could infest your mind and supposedly make you a more powerful being. Thought to have been safe, the 'virus', as it was called in the article, somehow escaped and infected the lives of the citizens of the city. The T-virus.

Dante looked away from the article and glanced at the clock. "I think it's time to call in some help on this one."

Enzo Ferino was not a fairly small man, but not a fairly large man either, with dark hair and eyes to match. He kept his wavy shoulder-length hair tied in the back and kept his goatee neatly trimmed. He, also being in the line of business that Dante was in, was used to seeing stuff about the supernatural. That's why he wasn't fazed when Dante called him at 10:00 at night wondering about Raccoon City, Umbrella and a biohazardous virus that seemingly turned everyone into a living dead.

"Well come on over, Sparda. My computer system can track anything down, and it's just a matter of time before we started to work together, eh?" The younger of the two hunters said smoothly, aiming a dart at the bulls- eye whilst sitting on his desk. One eye was on the mark and the other was closed for better aiming. He shoots.

"We're not working together," came the dull reply form the other hunter. The dart veered off and hit just outside the bulls-eye. Enzo choked down a gulp of air. Dante continued, "I just need your so-called state-of-the- art equipment to help me figure out what this message is I received ten minutes ago."

"... Sure..." Enzo muttered as he fished around for another dart. The needle- like end stabbed into his forefinger. Cursing softly, Enzo put the finger to his mouth to keep the blood from dripping on his furnished desk.

"Great. I'll see you in a few." Dial tone. Ferino hung the phone up and chucked the last dart in frustration. It missed the mark completely and shot into the wall, leaving a beautiful little hole to place a nail. Enzo stared at the not-so-close-but-no-cigar miss for a few agonizing minutes. The rent was due soon and there was a pretty hole in his wall. The landlord would love that.

"Goddamnit." The man shot off the desk and ripped the dart out of the wall, luckily keeping the hole the same size as it was before. He cursed softly again, tossed the dart on his desk and headed over to his computer room when he heard the door open. He turned and faced Dante. "Jesus. You just flew over here, didn't you?" Dante kept an impassive face but a small tint of red formed on his lightly tanned cheeks behind his platinum-white hair. "Well, come on in, I was just about to head to my computer and fish up the info you need."

Following Enzo up to the computer room, Dante found himself looking at the full-blood human's living-quarters. The furnishings were pretty antique- looking and a bar stood between a bookshelf and an entertainment center. Beer mugs and shot glasses were strewn around on the surface of the bar, as well as half-empty bottles of Jack, Rum and tiny bottles of Tequila.

"You sure know how to live," Dante muttered, turning back to Enzo.

"Yeah, well..." Ferino trailed off as he opened the door to the computer room. He headed inside and sat at the computer, Dante following. "Let's start with that bizarre phone call you got, then." He held up a hand and Dante placed a small disk in the open palm to analyze and clear up the static. Placing the disk in the drive, they listened.

'You're th... who'd ta... dirty job... Dante... Rac... oon City's lo... Zombies everywh... S.T.A.R.S... no surviv... 2 Mill in th... prison... Island...' the crash of wood and broken glass, then the scream of a frantic and dying man. Enzo glanced at Dante. "You always take the weirdest jobs." Turning back to the computer and not waiting for Dante's response, Enzo began to type rapidly to begin to clear away the interference. He played back what he'd achieved thus far.

'You're the handyman who'd take any dirty job, Mr. Dante... Raccoon... oon City's lost and now isolated! Zombies everywhere... S.T.A.R.S... no survivors... 2 Mil in the palace prison... isolated Rockfort Island! Please Hu...'

"Replay the part with S.T.A.R.S. Clear it up," Dante instructed. Ferino grumbled but did his job.

'Oh God, S.T.A.R.S.--there're no survivors here now!' Enzo looked at Dante, who stood calmly, thinking. After a couple of minutes of absolute and uncomfortable silence, the older of the two hunters spoke: "Dig up information of S.T.A.R.S. I have a feeling I should know them from somewhere. And Umbrella." Enzo nodded and began to search old newspaper clips online.

"Dated July of '98... 'Founded in New York in 1967, the privately funded S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics And Rescue Squad) organization was originally created as a measure against cult-affiliated terrorism by a group of retired military officials and ex-field operatives from both the FBI and CIA.' Interesting enough, this group branched out into the Midwestern Raccoon City to assist the Raccoon Police Department with their problem."

Dante raised a delicate eyebrow. "Zombies...?"

"Exactly. Apparently the T-Virus was an experiment back in '98 at an isolated underground lab near a mansion in the forest."

"The Spencer mansion," Dante replied. "I've heard of that. It exploded on the 22nd of July... I heard it on the news."

"Then you must have heard that the RPD took S.T.A.R.S. off the murder investigation?"

"Of course," the platinum/white-haired man spoke. "I just didn't catch all of it." Enzo scrolled down and found the article from the 'Raccoon Weekly'.

"Six of their team members were killed, along with their captain, Albert Wesker - " Enzo replied. Dante blinked. That name seemed all-too familiar to him. Wesker... Albert Wesker... "Since then, Umbrella moved their operations to Europe."

"... What about that prison? Clear up the part about the prison."

"There's nothing to hear. The guy says it all. 2 Mil in the palace prison on an isolated island. What more do you need?" Enzo shot a look at Dante before going into a file to find the coordinates of the island. "Not that I have the coordinates to the island, but I could look them up for you--hey wait! Where're you going!?" Dante stood at the doorway and placed his hand on Ebony's holster.

"That's all I needed for now, thanks."

A skeptical glance, and then, "How do you think you'll get to the island?"

Dante smirked. "I have my ways."

Enzo gazed at the open door for another long minute before he realized what Dante must have meant by "I have my ways". He blinked, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

"How would he afford a plane? Guy's as broke as I am..." he looked to the computer again and scrolled down to a clipping from 'Enquirer'.

" 'Wesker lives, Return of the Living Dead.' Whoo, gruesome picture." He kept that clipping on file as he flipped through more.

" 'Woman Found Dead on 14; Famous Bounty Hunter Potential Witness.' Famous bounty hunter? Dante... is this why you're so bent on this job? To forget about what happened to Trish?"

Claire Redfield stirred at the sounds above ground. Her cell's ceiling shook violently as the sounds of war rang outside. She stood up diligently and held onto the bars, still unable to believe that she was caught off- guard. Her brother was the best marksman and one of the best ex-S.T.A.R.S. and yet when it came to her own quick-wit, she was as clueless as Chris. The door to the outside opened and a figure limped through the darkness to the door to her cell. Taking out her lighter, Claire struck the flint and exposed the room to a miniscule light. She jumped back as the face of her captor, a pained look on his face, unlocked the door and opened it. He sat in his chair and brought out a small bottle of Hemostatic medicine, examining it.

"Perfect," he spat as he chucked the empty bottle to the floor. "Go on, get out of here. This place is finished."

Claire couldn't believe her luck as she went over and picked the green herb she found in the corner of her cell, feeling she might need it later. Inquiring about why he let her out, Claire listened as her captor spoke about a raid and that everyone was dead.

She glanced at the empty hemostatic and decided to help him as well.When he urged her to go again and she did, placing a combat knife in her pocket and a clip of 15 handgun bullets from his desk. Unfortunately, she realized he wouldn't make it that long, and he probably had a clip-full in his own gun. She needed to protect herself somehow, after what happened in Raccoon City and in Europe. She crossed the narrow and dank hallway and made her way up the stairs to observe the devastation. A truck obscured an easy way out as oil leaked from the engine. As she made her way through the gravesite and towards another door, the truck exploded and a briefcase spilled out, as well as a burning body! The body that was once a man stood and started towards the source of life that his simple mind had sensed. Trembling, Claire brought out her new combat knife and backed up more, giving herself room. She tripped and landed near a gravestone, where a cold hand shot up from the ground and grabbed her wrist. Squealing with panic, Claire scurried away from the hand and stood quickly, watching as four previously dead bodies rose from the ground. Pallid, nude and genderless, the creatures slowly walked towards their warm-blooded prey. Claire was surrounded! She tried to make her way through and around the creatures, but one grabbed her. She pulled away and scrambled to the door, opening it frantically and slamming it shut, collapsing her weight on the wooden barricade.

Sighing inwardly, Claire stood shakily, using the door for support, and headed towards another exit when a spotlight headed in her direction and a barrage of bullets sprayed from the automatic rifle above in the lookout tower. Claire dodged behind the crashed truck and found herself next to a decaying body. But it wasn't the body she was looking at. It was the handgun! Putting the knife away, she picked up the gun and aimed at the spotlight. She shoots. The protective covering and the bulb of the spotlight shattered and in the dark, the rifle stopped. Claire shot two more times before a boy yelped and held up his hands.

"Wait, wait!" He looked up from the shield. "Huh? You're not a Zombie. Hold on! I'm coming over!"

Claire stood patiently as she watched the lanky redhead jump from the tower and meet her at her shield. "Sorry about that little misunderstanding. I thought you were another one of those mon- " he shut up immediately as Claire shot her gun up to his face. "Who are you?"

"Relax, beautiful. I said I was sorry. My name's Steve Burnside. I was a prisoner on this island..."