Hey, everyone. I have a nice little Vergilcentric oneshot for you all. Hope you and enjoy and sorry if it gets a bit confusing. It's supposed to seem frantic. I don't think I pulled it off very well. -.- Reviews make me happy, though! ^_^


"I hate you!" The sound of the voice bounced off of the walls like a gun shoot. "I've always hated you! You...you left me to die...to save him! Was I not good enough for you? Was I not the son you wanted?" His voice shook as he shouted at his amulet.

"I didn't mean to, Mother. I...I just wanted to protect...protect him like I couldn't protect you. I'm worthless. I can't do anything right, can I? I don't even deserve to live."

"Pet?" It was another voice, a new, more confident one that didn't shake or tremble with anger, fear, and remorse.

"Yes, Master?" He looked up out of instinct; he had been called that for what seemed like forever. For years, even, but he knew it had only been a matter of months since he had gotten himself trapped – no, defeated; he was no bound to serve his master forever.

He remembered screaming, screaming in agony, horror, and self-pity. But no one came. No one helped him... Well, one person did seem to help him, but she just manipulated him.... It seemed everyone – or thing – manipulated him here, in this place he had once wanted to rule. But it was nothing as he had expected it to be.

Thinking back to the day he had fallen... He desperately wanted to take that hand that was held out for him, but he didn't: his pride wouldn't allow it. It seemed his pride didn't allow a lot of things.

"Do you need a punishment?" the voice said. He shuddered at it, at the threat behind it.

"No, Master. I apologize for shouting. I was just caught up in the heat of the moment, so to speak," he replied, tucking his amulet back into his shirt.

"Very well. But if I hear you shouting once more for tonight, I shall have Trish send you to the torture chamber."

"Yes, Master." He spoke in a mono-tone as he bowed his head.

His brother...he hadn't killed him in body – oh no, he was the one closer to being killed in body than him – but he knew he had killed him in mind, or what was left of it, anyway. Surely there wasn't much to begin with.

He sighed. There was no point in letting this get to him now. Master had promised that he soon wouldn't remember anything; that he wouldn't feel anything like pitiful human emotions, like love.

He wanted this. It was what he wanted since he had been thrown into Hell by his mother so that she could save his younger brother. He had to fight his way out, and he did just that. He had made a promise, from that day forth, no one would ever get in his way.

He made that promise for him, for his twin; whom he knew was probably just as scarred by this as he was. He was, more than likely, moved from foster home to foster home, without his mother or brother.

His brother whom he thought dead, no doubt feeling like it was his own fault because of it.

No. He shook his head. I will not think about that now. I have important things at hand. But, in truth, he had nothing to do on his hands. I do not care what he was put through. What I went through was ten times worse.

He yanked the amulet from around his neck and threw it to the stone ground.

"From now on," he said, looking to the statue that was his master, "I shall be known as Nelo Angelo. No past, no family, no future. My only goal is to bring down the son of Sparda."

"This shall be easier than I thought it would have been originally, Vergil. Very good, my Nelo Angelo."