Dante stood on the roof edge of buildings in the darkest part of time. His eyes were closed. Who was he? Why did he have such inhuman strength? Why did even the most powerful of vampires seem to fear him? What did they know that he didn't? What was the pieces to the puzzle of the emptiness of his thoughts? If only he knew more than his name. More than a few things. That he refused to eat human blood. That he would fast for days to weeks even months at a time. That he only ate animal blood. That he could not stand the way the vampires of these modern days had become. That he lived by his own strong moral code. That he felt for the victims of these modern day vampires. He only knew a few things but he felt they were the most important things of all. He said nothing. He stood there lost in thought.<br/><br/>His eyes slowly opened as the wind blew his hair around. You might think him strange for the garments he wore. The armor like outfit. Oh but it was lightweight despite how strong it was. It was very, very strong and nearly nothing could dent it or break through. He stood with his gaze looking out at the world. His eyes a natural red no matter if he fed or not looked around. Why must the world of vampires have come to such dark transgressions? What happened to the ways of chivalry and the fact you did not waste or harm that which you fed from? Or at least...treasured them. The ways of old that he barely remembered seemed long since a figment of the past.<br/><br/>He dropped from the roof and his black wings shot from his spine and shot him up into the air. He hovered there as his eyes scanned the city. He looked around and spotted a large group of trouble makers heading towards the scent of blood. He shot off after them. He flew ahead and dropped down. So near yet so far from the injured woman and the other scent. He moved into the path leading to the church. The side where they were. He stood there with his guantlets on. His hair blowing in the wind. He drew his gunblade. He opened his eyes slowly.<br/><br/>"Not a step further." Came the sexy ancient world accent. Exotic and sensual it carried on the wind. "No further will you go. Or I shall strike you younglings down where you stand. How low the apple has fallen from the mighty grandeur of the ancient tree. Picking on those injured. Wherein did thou lose sight of the paths of fate? Wherein did the darkness snuff out the dim light?" He said in a poetic way. "You youngers disgust me. Moralless ruleless unruly children you are. Not worthy of the gift of the night...for you do so abuse such power. You wish to feed tonight? Then come...feed from me...if you can." He said in a haunting yet beautiful voice.<br/><br/>He moved through them as if dancing. The silver blade of his gunblade sliced through some. The pointed guantlets ended others with a staking through the heart. He shot through another. He soon had dusted all but one. He stood at a ready. The vampire asked him who he was.<br/><br/>He closed his eyes. "Who am I?" He echoed in an amused tone. His eyes opened. "I am but an echo from ancient times. I know not but that my name..." He trailed off. "...is Dante Van Helsing. You new age vampires disgust me...no morals. No rules. No sympathy for that which you feed." He then struck down the final when he lunged at him. "Fly home little butterfly for not but the morrow does the tortured soul sent to hell doth bring." He then cleaned his blade and put it away. Cleaning the blood from his guantlet. He began to walk off. Hopefully this had bought the other scent time to help the injured one.