CRASH! A massive shockwave rattled the ground as a mighty marble statue impacted the shattered streets of a small town square. The statue itself, in its glory days, was an idol of much sought after praise and worship from the small town's citizens. Many thought the statue as nothing more than an inanimate creation of an artist's hands. However, with the aid of powerful magic, the object had obtained vitality and was thus granted mobility. The statue's hooded eyes pulsated a pale crimson as it glared down upon a sole warrior clad in a red, flowing coat. With godly speed, the gigantic statue hurled another massive fist at the man, its possessor praying that he would finally be eradicated.
"Heh heh, is that all you got?" the man in the crimson coat questioned stoically as he gracefully leapt onto the statue's massive fist.
Emotionlessly, the crafted deity flung its hand into the air, sending the warrior high into the atmosphere. The man in the flowing overcoat sighed in disappointment as he quickly slipped into a form of combat armor. The cold steel gauntlets, facemask, boots and wings pulsated several shades of vibrant colors with every move its owner made. Curling his body into a tight ball, the man in red absorbed energy from the surrounding atmosphere as well as the sunlight before redirecting it into a downward thrust. Unleashing a valiant battle cry, the pulsating armor emitted a vibrant stream of light energy, which swirled around its master.
Glancing heavenward, the statue barely managed to focus on the ball of energy flying toward it before its crafted jaw line was severely cracked from the impact of the assault. The man in red dexterously balanced his weight in the newly crafted grooves and edges in the statue's face as the attack's momentum caused the object to tumble onto the scarred plaza. Taking advantage of the momentary opening, the armor-clad man unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, each one stronger than the last. However, the cease-fire hadn't lasted long and before he knew it, his prey was already rising to its battered and chipped feet. Leaping to a safe spot for the moment, the man in red switched back to a long and mighty sword, which was decorated with a demon skeleton on its hilt.
"Ha, you know, you're not very graceful for a god," the man joked as a coy smirk pulled at the right corner of his lips.
Wracked by the snide comment, the deity statue pulled its right fist back for another attack. This battle had been raging for hours now and neither combatant was showing signs of tiring. However, unlike the statue, the man in red was practically unscathed from the other's attacks. The deity statue had numerous chips, cracks, slashes and missing chunks from its once immaculate body and features. The blue gems that littered its body were cracked, chipped and in some places completely fragmented. A few of the wings that seemed to cover the statue's massive body were missing or broken, and the golden horns were also partaking in the same fate.
The man clad in red sighed heavily as the cracked gem on the statue's torso attracted his attention. Clutching a long katana in his right hand, he began to clench his jaw, wracking his brain for an answer to the problem of cracking open that rather thick gem. Dodging the statue's second attempt at pounding him into the building he was standing atop, a thought soon formulated, causing a wolfish grin to claim his lips. Crouching onto the spire he landed upon following the attack, he gracefully leapt toward the statue, his inhuman strength granting him a periodic flight. Utilizing the warrior's momentary vulnerability, a new wave of enchanted angelic armor suits soared after him, their jousts raised and poised to strike.
The man in red frowned slightly at the barrage of armor angels before altering his body's position in order to utilize the angels' positions to his advantage. One after the other, he used the enchanted armor as stepping-stones, thus gaining him height and disrupting their attack pattern. Upon reaching his target, he quickly unsheathed the katana and struck the partially shattered gem with the blade. After the blade's initial penetration, it generously sunk into a deep crack that had formed from the statue's various movements. Regaining his footing, the warrior began to thrust against the sword, managing to slice through to the blade's hilt. A distinct tremor in the statue's solid exterior, however warned him of an impending attack. Halting his progress, he quickly glanced up watching as the deity prepared to slam its right hand against his body.
"Even Yamato is no match for the power of the Savior!" the statue's possessor roared as a massive marble hand came into view.
Abandoning the sword in order to prevent his own death, the man in the crimson overcoat quickly pushed off of the statue, just barely missing the swipe of the deity's hand. He growled low in his throat before pulling out twin handguns from their respective holsters attached to his belt. Crossing the weapons in front of him, he squinted his eyes, aiming.
"If the exterior is solid…" he began before firing off eight consecutive rounds.
With precision far surpassing any machine, the fired bullets collided end to end on the katana's handle, thus granting it the extra push it needed in order to penetrate the gem. As the blade sailed cleanly into the statue's hollow torso, it soon struck a soft mass of tissue, slicing through up to its hilt. Meanwhile outside, the man in red soared serenely over a few decimated houses before landing gracefully onto a flattened spire, smirking as the statue's body began to quiver.
"…then you have to take it out from the inside!" he finished stoically.
The impact of the previous attacks caused the statue to reel back before crashing forward, its glowing broken halo just missing the still smirking man. Sighing lightly, the warrior spun his twin handguns around his trigger fingers before holstering them. The statue's possessor grumbled as the marble deity lifted its head to stare at its momentary successor.
"No! What have you done?" the panicked voice questioned.
"Time to wake up kid!" the man in red shouted toward the fractured gem. "You're missing out on all the fun!"
Following his comment, a brief moment of silence passed over the battle-scarred plaza that was bathed in the rich reds, yellows, oranges, and whites of the distant setting sun. Concern momentarily befell the warrior before he cried out again.
"Nero!"
Meanwhile, inside the central core of the deity, the massive chunk of tissue the katana struck began to pulsate before a glowing demonic arm sliced through the mass. The still-consumed owner of the demonic arm curled its glowing fingers in the stale air before latching onto the blade's handle. The tight mass of flesh valiantly resisted against the new development, however in the end, the demonic arm's owner sliced through a small slit in the mass creating an opening to freedom. Gasping shallowly, the deity's bodily captive toppled limply from the suspended organic cell, colliding mercilessly onto the hollow space's ground afterward.
Finally free, the summoned man absorbed precious moments to catch his breath and regain his stamina. Groaning softly, he curled his fingers before slowly pushing his body upright, the pulsating katana blade still clutched tightly in his right hand. Slowly opening his eyes, the man with the demonic arm glanced at the blade before observing his surroundings.
"It's all you from here kid!" a familiar voice called, echoing in the hollow chamber. "A chance to save the world doesn't happen everyday you know? Savor it!"
The voice of a comrade caused a small smile to pull at the man's lips. Clutching the katana, he momentarily utilized the blade in order to stand onto his feet. The fact that he wasn't alone in this battle reignited his faith and hope.
"This I will savor," he whispered as he glanced down toward a resilient light. "Let's clean up this mess!"
…
The waning hours of twilight brought with it cooler temperatures and longer shadows. The man in red grunted as he absorbed the shock of another assault from the statue, his sword acting as his shield. However, even though the deity was beginning to weaken, the force of the attack barely affected him at all. Reopening his eyes, he then noticed that the statue had ceased to move altogether. Relieved, he released a held breath, relaxing his tensed muscles.
"It's over," he commented before pushing the statue off to the side.
Sheathing his sword, he stared up at the fractured remains of the statue's head, a cracked gem glistening in the early evening's sunlight. Anticipation soon began to wash over his figurative being as he waited for something to happen.
"Come on kid…" he whispered as he continued to stare at the gem.
Moments of suffocating silence passed before he noticed a shadow slide across the convex surface of the blue object. The shadow was the warrior's cue to release his held breath as two forms burst through the fractured object shortly afterward. A smile claimed the man's features as a familiar face came into view. The man with the demonic arm slowly stood after his graceful landing as shards of the gem rained down upon him. Upon his back, two swords were crossed: one a massive pendulum-like blade, and the other, the man's own sword. Glancing toward the destroyed plaza, his crystal blue gaze intercepted the figure of his comrade. He then quickly paced toward the plaza, a young woman held protectively in his arms.
"Took your time," the warrior in red jested as the other carefully placed the woman down onto her feet.
"What are you expecting an apology?" the other retorted, glaring at his compatriot.
"Well how long am I going to have to wait for it?" he questioned crossing his arms.
The visibly younger man dressed in a blue overcoat glared at the older man with the intent of firing off a witty comeback before a loud crash rattled the ground once more. Glancing toward the ruined circle of buildings, the three survivors gaped in horror as the statue rose again. However unlike last time, this time the statue's face had been replaced with that of its possessor, the twisted man's features distorted in a fit of rage.
"Heh, this guy just doesn't let it go," the man in red retorted as he retrieved his twin handguns from their holsters.
Pulling the massive pendulum blade off of his back, the man in blue stepped forward, halting his comrade with the weapon.
"This is where it began," he stoically replied, glaring up at the abomination. "And this is where it will end, by my hand."
The warrior decorated in red smirked before a soft chuckle vibrated his vocal chords. Shaking his head slightly, he holstered his twin handguns before extending his left arm toward the somewhat offered sword, wrapping his strong, gloved fingers around its hilt afterward.
"Alright then, go finish it kid," he informed his partner who turned to gaze at the rescued woman dressed in a long white gown.
"Wait for me," the younger man whispered before turning to face the writhing statue.
A deep sigh passed over his lips as he confidently paced toward the false savior, his demonic arm pulsating a bright blue hue as he drew closer.
"You know God, I always hated that you made my arm like this," the man in blue noted as he curled both of his hands into fists. "But now with it, I can destroy this thing. Who would've thought!"
The warrior in red smirked before crossing his arms over his chest as he and the rescued woman watched in anticipation as the young man leapt toward the roaring statue. Unleashing a demonic roar of his own, the warrior in blue thrust his right hand out toward the statue's face, clamping five glowing blue claws around it.
"Now I know," he shouted as his hand twitched from the clenching tendons in his fingers as he steadied the monstrosity. "This hand was made for sending guys like you back to hell!"
Clenching his teeth, he began to slowly constrict his grasp, thus digging his clawed fingers into the solid marble surface of the statue's broken head. Slowly, small cracks began to snake their way around the object as pressure from the grip of the demonic hand spiked.
"And now…you…die!" he screamed as he clenched his fist tightly, successfully shattering the statue's facial features.
With its face completely obliterated, and its host slayed by Yamato, the towering false savior was finally brought to its knees. What little remained of the masterpiece fell back onto the fractured remains of the town's plaza, uplifting a veil of dirt and dust in its wake. Panting from the exertion, the young warrior fell to his knees. A genuine smile creased his lips as he glanced back up to where the statue had originally towered, relieved at only finding a pale purple, cloud-less sky in its place.
"It's over," he whispered to himself as he stood back onto his feet. "It's finally over."
"Heh, not bad at all kid," the elder warrior whispered to himself before nodding at the young man.
Turning back to face the remains of the town's center, he sighed heavily before glancing over the horizon to stare at the melting colors of yellow, red, orange and blue. The serene beauty of the story of Fortuna's false savior was slowly drawing to a close as the last of the sun's rays began to slowly sink beneath the vanishing point. As he continued to gaze out over the horizon, he began to ponder why he exactly took this job in the first place. His assigners didn't exactly specify that he would get paid, and he didn't exactly like charity work. Shaking his head to clear his mind of these questions, he lifted his right hand, rubbing the pads of his fingers gently over the thin folds of skin that protected his eyes. A soft groan vibrated his throat as he lightly pinched the bridge of his nose, long awaited fatigue finally setting in. His thoughts were soon interrupted when short splashes followed by the clomping of rubber soles against cobblestone caused his ears to twitch slightly to adjust to the crescendo of sound.
"I guess I should thank you," the soft voice of the younger man dressed in a blue overcoat spoke as he paced closer.
"But that'd be out of character," the man in red joked, turning to face the young man. "Maybe you should just throw an insult my way instead."
"Yeah, that sounds better," the other agreed smiling, a soft chuckle resonating in his voice. "But still I owe you."
The elder man couldn't suppress the small smile that spread onto his features as his comrade turned to face him.
"Don't sweat it," he reassured stoically, nonchalantly waving his hand. "I had my reasons for helping. Take care of yourself."
Closing the small distance, the man in red gently patted the younger man on his left shoulder before slowly advancing toward a particularly ruined gate. The warrior clad in blue turned to face the other's retreating back, only then remembering what he had originally sought out the other for.
"Wait!" he called as he held out the sheathed katana. "You forgot this."
The older warrior stared down at the ground before glancing over his shoulder as the familiar blade of his fallen brother came into view, the object clenched tightly in the boy's demonic hand. Despite the fact he had made a big deal out of obtaining the sword that was once his brother's, at the moment, he figured his brother should watch over the kid instead.
"Keep it," the man in red commented in an even tone causing the boy to tilt his head in confusion.
"What? I thought this thing meant a lot to you?" he questioned as he lowered the sword.
"That's the only kind of gift worth giving," the elder warrior explained. "I want to entrust it to you, and so I am. What you do from here is your call."
He offered his comrade a final smile and nod of acknowledgement before turning on his right heel and stalking toward the exit. He figured with Yamato in hand, the kid would have no worries moving on in the world. The guaranteed protection of his brother also provided the man with peace of mind. With his job completed, he began his long journey back home to Capulet City, where his famed home Devil May Cry awaited patiently for his return.
"Hey Dante!" the younger man called after him. "Will we meet again?"
Without a passing glance, nor stopping to answer, the elder man dressed in a crimson overcoat merely lifted his right hand, waving two fingers stiffly in the air before exiting the town's central plaza. He had a feeling they would meet again one day, however he was a demon hunter, not a fortune-teller. Therefore, he merely left whatever was in store for them in the hands of fate.
…
A total of six years had passed in the aftermath of the fall of His Holiness and the Savior. Along with a mysterious woman's aid, the citizens of the ruined city of Fortuna were able to safely journey back from Trinity City. In the past few months, the townspeople began to slowly restore and rebuild the castle town, under the watchful eye of the newly rebuilt Order. Nero sighed heavily as he stood before a massive window overlooking the town plaza high atop the old cathedral. His faithful sword, the Red Queen hung securely against his back, the recently polished blade glistening in the sun.
At his right hip hung the holster for his other weapon of choice; a silver, hand-crafted six-shot revolver with a custom dual barrel design named the Blue Rose. The handgun itself was originally just a plain SAA Colt collecting dust in a pawn shop, until Nero found and revamped it. Truth be told, ever since the end of the age of the Savior, fewer and fewer demons had graced Fortuna's streets with their presence. However, Nero felt that even though the years of peace were finally upon them, the city still needed the protection of the Order. Therefore, along with Kyrie and a few surviving members of the old Order, the New Order was established.
"Well, it looks like we have enough people for the new Order," Nero acknowledged as he gazed down upon a meeting for new recruits.
"Now all we need is a leader," Kyrie's gentle voice sounded to his right as she too supervised the congregation.
"That's true," the silver-haired man agreed smiling. "If only Credo were still here, he'd make a great leader."
"Why don't you be leader Nero?" the young woman suggested.
"What?" Nero questioned, surprised. "Nah, I couldn't possibly be the leader. I don't have the social and diplomatic power or skills to do so."
"Oh Nero, don't be silly," she retorted embracing his right arm. "You'll make a great leader."
"Nero," a strong voice called behind him.
"Angelo," Nero addressed as he turned to face his comrade. "What is it?"
"The initiation of the newly elected leader is about to begin," Angelo informed. "Your presence is required."
"I'll be right there, thank you," he answered nodding his head.
Turning back to face the town plaza currently under construction, Nero exhaled slowly, nibbling lightly on his lower lip. The ceremony was to be a long and boring one, no doubt. It would consist of speeches, sermons and what not, and he didn't really feel like going. However it was a requirement for all members of the Order to be present during any kind of ceremony, and the election of a new leader was no exception. Shaking his head briefly he turned away from the window before dragging his feet down the hall toward the ceremony room.
…
"Thank you everyone," one of the high knights second to Credo announced as he stood before a podium, his voice slowly silencing the applause. "Before we get to the unveiling of the new leader, I would just like to take a moment to reflect on the Order's miraculous recovery from the devastation we faced so few years prior."
Nero groaned and fidgeted in his seat as Credo's second in command drew out numerous praises for the Order's officials, memoirs of Credo and his devout service, and the future of the organization itself. Crossing his arms, he chose to stare holes into the wooden base of the podium, the idolized symbol of the Order emblazoned across its slick surface. A few minutes into the speech, he began to nod off, his head bobbing every so often he would fall asleep.
"Nero!" Kyrie whispered before jabbing her right elbow into his ribs. "Pay attention!"
"Like I can," he retorted. "This guy isn't exactly very interesting."
"And now without further ado…" the knight announced as he was handed a parchment. "The new leader of the Order of the Sword is…Zachary!"
A thunderous applause followed the unveiling of the new leader as the chosen knight took his place at the podium, waving a few times in thanks for the nomination. Nero re-crossed his legs for the sixth time as he nonchalantly clapped his hands. Kyrie rolled her eyes before jabbing him in his side again. Groaning from the severe boredom he was suffering from, the young knight stood from his spot before promptly striding over to the exit. He had a feeling that Zachary would have been picked as the new leader since he always seemed to kiss up to Credo a lot.
"Eh, he only got to be Credo's right hand man because he kissed his ass the most," Nero retorted snidely as he paced out into the afternoon sunlight. "But what do I care, I'm just sick and tired of doing nothing but routine drills all damn day long. I want some action!"
Returning to grumbling under his breath, the young demon slayer passed by a small bulletin board that usually contained various announcements and events that were to occur in the city. One such poster happened to catch his eye.
Demon problems? In need of an exterminator?
Nero furrowed his brow as he continued to stare at the rather poorly made poster. The only thing that happened to catch his eye were three little words that read Devil May Cry. He merely scoffed as he ripped the flyer off of the board and shoved it into his right pocket. He couldn't exactly understand why the townspeople should worry about outside demon slaying services when they have a whole task force dedicated to the capture and eradication of any kind of demon known to man. A small smirk curled the right corner of his lips as a sinister idea popped into his mind.
"Perhaps I should prank call these guys a few times just to piss them off," he planned as he journeyed back to the new headquarters on the outskirts of town.
…
"Nero, there you are!" another knight called as he rushed to meet him. "Where have you been?"
"Sorry, I just needed a little exercise is all," Nero answered smugly as he inserted his hands into his pockets. "So what do you need?"
"The Council is meeting in the boardroom right now, and your presence is highly requested," the official relayed.
"Heh, when isn't it?" he commented coarsely before opening the door into the mentioned room.
"Ah Nero, just the man we were looking for," Angelo greeted as he leaned forward on an ovular table.
"Eh, come on Angelo, I'm not that special," Nero remarked as he plopped down in a vacant seat, the other congregated knights staring disapprovingly at him.
"Well, now that you've finally decided to grace us with your presence, let's get back to business shall we?" the knight of valor continued as he turned to face the panoramic view of the rebuilt city. "Now then, as you all know, Fortuna is finally managing to get back to its former glory after the devastating uprising and activation of the hell gates that were a product of the now deceased scientist Agnus. Thanks to you Nero, and the mysterious demon slayer known as Dante, the hell gates have been destroyed and the remaining demons were expelled from this world. However, with the Order and the city still in shambles we are required to branch out to the rest of the world for assistance."
"Like an alliance?" questioned one of the knights.
"Precisely," Angelo agreed as he straightened his back, glancing around at the other members present. "That is why we are requesting that you brave knights seek out the cities our scanners have located, and search for any kind of organization that partakes in the slaying of demons. Placed before each and every one of you is an envelope with a city's name and location, both global and street-wise. As decorated knights of the Order we humbly request that you make this journey for the good of Fortuna. And may the real Savior be with you on your journeys. You are dismissed."
As Angelo turned back to face the massive window, the other members of the Order murmured quietly to themselves or to their neighbors as they collected their missions and prepared for their trips. Nero however casually placed his feet up onto his end of the table before retrieving his own assignment. Opening the envelope, he noticed a small picture as well as an index card cascade out of the open flap as he pulled his assignment out. On the half-sheet of paper, the name Capulet City was written in fancy cursive letters.
Dismissing the small sheet, Nero then focused on the two parchments that fell free of the envelope upon its opening. The picture was of a small building, which boasted a neon sign reading Devil May Cry. The building itself was of very simple design, with little to please the eye save for the sign. Nero sighed before glancing at the remaining parchment, the word, or rather name Eva, was written in bold, evenly spaced letters. Furrowing his brow, he glanced back up at Angelo, who had yet to move from his spot overlooking the city.
"Eva?" he questioned. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"It's a secret password," Angelo answered, glancing over his left shoulder. "The owner of that shop is very picky about whom he helps. The people who are able to figure out his password can more or less be guaranteed his expert services."
"So who is this guy?" Nero continued glancing back at the photograph. "Devil May Cry? Why does that name ring a bell?"
"We didn't get that far," the elder knight answered before a heavy sigh cascaded over his lips. "Our informant didn't dare speak his name for fear of a curse descending upon him."
"A curse? Please…" the silver-haired knight groaned as he rolled his eyes. "What is this guy a soothsayer or something?"
"Who knows, he prefers to work alone, and he only takes jobs that the average Joe would never be able to afford," Angelo continued as he turned to fully face Nero.
"If he only does expensive jobs, then how are we supposed to ally him to our cause?" Nero questioned curtly. "The fucker probably won't even consider it."
"And that is why we are sending you Nero," the Council leader concluded. "We are confident that you will find a way of converting him to our cause."
"Sheesh, you guys sure aren't picky are ya?" the young knight retorted as he stood. "Alright, I'll see what I can do, but I'm not going to promise you anything. If he doesn't want to cooperate, then I'm not going to force him. Besides, why would we need the services of a gold digger anyway? He'd only rape our treasury in the ass."
"Good-bye Nero," Angelo dismissed forcefully as he practically pushed the foul-mouthed youth out the door.
"Heh, I sure hope this other guy isn't as straight-laced as he is," Nero commented, a sneer tainting his features.
…
"Well, I guess this is good-bye for a few days Kyrie," Nero replied as he slung a small backpack around his shoulders, a motorcycle helmet clutched in his left hand.
"Be careful alright?" Kyrie ordered before wrapping her arms tightly around his body. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too babe," he whispered before gently kissing her. "Don't worry, I won't do anything too dangerous. After all, I'm only going to a meeting with this guy, and whether or not he joins us, I'm still coming back."
"I'll still be here when you get back," the young woman promised, a warm smile gracing her lips.
Nero smiled warmly at her before securing his backpack against his torso and fastening his helmet onto his head. Straddling his motorcycle, he revved the engine a few times before checking to see that his sword and his revolver were securely fastened across the seat behind him. Glancing up one more time at Kyrie, he waved good-bye before lifting the kickstand and speeding off down the road toward a distant mountain range. Kyrie continued to wave good-bye until she could no longer see his bike speeding along the mountainside road. Slowly lowering her hand, she enclosed her fingers around the small pendent Nero had presented to her the day the uprising had begun.
"I'll wait for you," she whispered before retreating back into the new Order's headquarters.
…
Meanwhile in the outskirts of Dalinski City, a horde of demons, both large and small crowed around a single man, raring to attack. The man smirked as he casually flared the tail end of his crimson overcoat, reaching for his twin handguns. One of the demons, a dog-like creature with a skeletal head and a snake for a tail, roared at him before pouncing. The man in red's smirk grew slightly as he fired off a single round, driving a bullet clean into the beast's head, silencing it in one quick motion. As the dog demon fell back onto the ground, the others began to roar, hiss and whine in unison as they mourned their fallen comrade.
"Heh, who's next?" the man remarked coyly as he twirled his guns in either hand.
Enter Dante, the infamous demon slayer of Capulet City and the founder of Devil May Cry. Aside from his dealings in the underground business of demon hunting, he also works part-time as a local mercenary. Whatever one wished to call him, he only offered his services to those who would be able to afford his outstanding prices. His trademark smirk never alleviated his features as he mowed through wave after wave of demons. His twin guns complied faithfully to his touch as bullet after smoking bullet was fired in the succession rivaled closely with that of a machine or Gatling gun. Through the years, Dante had since earned the reputation of a legend among Capulet's citizens mostly for his success in the jobs he was given.
No matter the job or the number of demons, Dante would always find a way to solve the problem or eliminate the hordes, either by sheer willpower or brute force. His greatest challenge overcame to this date was his battle with the infamous demon known as Abigail. Alone, he would never have been able to bring the fearsome beast to its spindly knees, but thanks to a young girl by the name of Patty Lowell, he came back from hell in order to send Abigail to take his place. A soft groan escaped his vocal chords as he finished off the last demon to attack. By now, he was covered in a rainbow of demon blood and his breath was slightly labored from having to dodge so many attacks at once. The barrels of his twin guns were smoking from exertion and friction of firing off so many rounds in one setting.
"Another job well done," he commented as he holstered his handguns and headed back into town, seeking out his idle motorcycle. "Is it just me or are demons now-a-days really annoying? Oh wait, they've always been that way. Never mind."
Sighing heavily, he turned the idle key in the ignition slot, causing the vehicle's engine to roar to life. Revving the engine a few times, he lifted the kickstand before speeding down the interstate road that led out of Dalisnki and toward Capulet. Few of his clients really know of his history, and none bother to really question him about it, since he would never answer them anyway. He is actually a son of the demon warrior Sparda, who earned a place in the history books for his courageous act of protecting the human world from the demon world. During his life, he came to know a human woman by the name of Eva. How they met is still a mystery, but the legend speaks of him siring twin sons. In order to seal the demon world off from the human world, Sparda had devised a plan, which required the creation of a sword and two pendants.
When his twin sons were born, Sparda had gained the reputation of being a traitor to demon-kind and was thus hunted down to be executed. Fearing for his sons' lives and the life of his wife, Sparda ordered Eva to protect their children by going into hiding in the human world. Along with her, he entrusted the two pendants and the sword thus named Yamato. He eventually succeeded in sealing off the two worlds from each other, but in doing so sacrificed his life. Heartbroken by the turn of events, Eva cared for their children on her own until she was discovered by earthbound demons. Barely old enough to look out for themselves, Eva instructed her sons to run and hide, to seek out their own protection from the demons. With each of them, she left one of the pendants ensuring that the two worlds remain separate.
Vergil was able to escape, but the demons followed Dante and Eva, wishing to eradicate anyone and anything that remained of Sparda's legacy. Eventually Dante was able to make his escape, but at the willing sacrifice of his mother's life. To this very day, he still mourns her death. His only memory of her is in the form of a small photograph, which forever more adorns the top of his desk. The elder demon slayer stifled a gaping yawn as he turned a small corner before reaching his office Devil May Cry. The neon sign was somewhat hard to read in the waning light, but the name was unmistakable. After all, it had been his home ever since his mother's passing, and over the years, it had become more like one. Sighing softly, Dante eased his motorcycle into its regular spot next to the door. Pushing down the kickstand, he raked his right hand through his silver lochs before turning off the engine and pulling the key free from the ignition.
"Boy what I wouldn't do for a nice, long, hot shower right about now," he mumbled to himself as he swung his right leg over top his bike.
Trudging up the few stairs to the large ornate doors, he nonchalantly pushed open the right door before reaching his right hand toward a small light switch positioned to the doors' left. The switch activated the neon sign out front, which buzzed to life, flickering a few times before finally blazing solid. Flicking two more switches to the left of the first one, the building's internal lights clicked on, including a second Devil May Cry sign stationed above a mini bar in the back corner of the room. Humming a familiar tune to himself, Dante shrugged out of his trademark red leather overcoat before hanging it neatly on a coat rack stationed just behind his large desk. Next, he pulled Ebony and Ivory from their respective holsters and placed the twin handguns on his desk, before leaning Rebellion against the wall next to his overcoat. Pacing over to his illuminated jukebox, he flipped through the selections a few times before settling on a song. As the comforting sounds of blaring vocals, shrieking chords from various guitars and pounding sets from powerful drums vibrated the very baseboards of the establishment, Dante slowly began to peel away the bloody layers of clothing that seemed to stick to his skin, throwing them on the floor afterward.
…
Nero sighed before shaking his head as night fell upon the landscape. He had been driving for hours, and the trip was really beginning to affect him. By the time the last remaining light from the previous day had long passed beneath the horizon, he had passed the city limits of Capulet and was just entering into the heart of the actual city. Luckily for him, the directions were quite accurate and easy to follow, and before a half hour had passed, he slowed his bike to a stop in order to gaze up at the neon sign, which read Devil May Cry. Revving his engine twice, the young demon slayer coasted his motorcycle to rest next to a similar bike parked just beside the establishment's massive doors. He then pushed the kickstand down into place before switching off his bike and pulling the keys out of the ignition. Unclipping his helmet, Nero placed the object down on his seat before untying his effects and turning to face the building. From his second glance at the sign, he soon noticed that the "D" was profusely blinking in rapid succession, almost as if it would fizzle out in any day's time.
He merely scoffed before ascending the four steps up to the door. At first he contemplated knocking, but he then remembered that this building's proprietor was running a business, so he merely opened the door and walked in. The first thing to assault him upon his entrance was the blaring music coming from a rather large jukebox in the corner of the room. He smirked at the choice of tunes, quickly finding himself falling into step with the beat as he journeyed further into the room. Along the walls were display cases filled with swords, guns, or the occasional trophy demon. One such display case held three stuffed bodies of scarecrows. Nero couldn't suppress a bubbling laugh at the fact that he himself had decimated enough of those demons to fill a whole museum. Shaking his head to ease his laughter, his eyes then fell upon a rather spacious desk that was the centerpiece of the room. The desk itself contained a single magazine, an old school circle dial telephone and a picture frame.
Tilting his head to the right, Nero paced closer to the desk before retrieving the picture frame to see whose picture was encased in its golden borders. The picture of a smiling woman met his gaze upon its reveal. The woman had long blonde hair, which cascaded down past the picture's edges. Her eyes where a pale shade of blue and her soft, full lips were curled into a kind, motherly smile. The picture itself spread a small smile onto the young man's lips before he returned the picture onto the desk. Visually absorbing more of the room, his gaze soon came to rest upon a small bar in the corner of the room right next to the jukebox. Traversing over to the bar, a smirk formed onto his pale pink lips as multiple bottles of wine, beer and champagne came into view. Whoever this guy was, he figured, certainly knew how to entertain.
"Hey, get away from there!" a strong voice called from the other side of the room. "That's my personal stash!"
Narrowing his eyes, Nero quickly pulled Blue Rose from its holster before turning on his heel to aim at whoever was in the room with him. However, once his gaze locked with his visitor, he quickly lowered his gun.
"Dante!" he acknowledged as the aforementioned slowly descended the staircase, toweling off his hair in the process.
"Nero?" the elder demon slayer questioned. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Nero answered as he holstered Blue Rose.
"I live here," Dante replied before carelessly throwing his damp towel onto the floor beside his desk. "This is my house after all."
"Oh really?" the younger man questioned, cocking his left eyebrow.
"Yeah really," came a sarcastic response. "So what are you doing here anyway?"
"I'm on a mission actually," Nero began as Dante rounded his desk to sit in his chair.
"What kind of mission?" Dante questioned as he propped his feet up on top of the desk, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
"I was assigned to the job of requesting your help in the restoration of Fortuna City and the Order," he explained, leaning forward on the desk, involuntarily partaking in a staring contest with the elder demon slayer. "In other words, the Order is creating a world-wide alliance, and they request that other demon slayers join the cause."
"Heh, no can do kid," the other answered stoically before turning his head to the right, tearing his gaze away from Nero's. "I prefer to work alone. I want no part in some stupid alliance formed by an organization that I originally fought to destroy."
"I figured as much," Nero sighed, bowing his head before trudging over to one of the leather couches and flopping down on it, groaning afterward. "And I came all the way out here to see your ass too."
"You want to see my ass?" Dante questioned, quirking his right eyebrow. "Gee kid, I didn't know you swung that way."
"Shut up you perverted old man!" the younger slayer shouted, shooting a death glare at him. "I didn't mean it like that!"
"Eh, I wouldn't have shown you anyway," the elder silver-haired man answered chuckling. "It's much to nice and sexy for you to handle."
"Dante, are you doing that on purpose?" Nero questioned as he switched to lying on his stomach facing the elder man. "Or are you going to an ulterior motive?"
"Nah, I just like messing with you," Dante answered as he plucked the phone's receiver from the plastic base, dialing an all-too-familiar number. "Hello? Yeah, I'd like to order for delivery…yeah the usual…yes I know, I'll pay you at the end of the month okay? Alright, thank you…bye."
"What was that all about?" Nero questioned as he laid his head upon his crossed arms.
"Just ordering a pizza," the other slayer replied before picking up the lone magazine on the desk and proceeding to flip through it. "You're more than welcome to have some if you'd like."
"Thanks…I actually am….kind of hungry," Nero replied softly as his growling stomach reminded him of how empty it was.
"So how is Fortuna? Still in ruin?" Dante questioned, not bothering to glance away from his magazine.
"Actually, it's half-way to being completely restored," the younger man corrected lightly. "Not only that, but the Order has been rebuilt and we have a new leader as well."
"Heh, let's hope that your little group doesn't end up like it did before when the new guy turns seventy," Dante remarked coyly.
"Eh, I don't think he will," Nero detested as his right leg cascaded onto the floor, his thick boot creating a dull thud upon impacting the floor. "So, what have you been up to old man?"
"Hey, come on, I'm not that old," the other demon slayer corrected flipping through the magazine. "Do I really look that old to you?"
"Well, no, but it's fun to call you an old man," the Order official answered, a wide smile forming across his lips.
"You would say that," Dante sighed as he discarded the magazine, the object colliding with the phone. "So how's Nero now-a-days? You still with that girl...what's her name…uh…Kyrie or something?"
"Yeah, Kyrie," Nero confirmed. "Yeah, we're still together. As for how I am, I'm doing all right. I've been training some new recruits, and boy they're a handful."
"Just like you were kid," the elder man remarked smirking.
"Hey, I wasn't that bad," the man in blue huffed as he propped his upper body up onto his forearms, crossing them afterward.
"You sure about that?" Dante questioned, his smirk curling the right corner of his mouth profusely.
"Heh, okay," Nero complied as he pushed himself up off of the couch before walking over to the jukebox. "Alright, I'll admit it, I guess I was a little hot-headed back then."
"A little?" the elder slayer retorted, snorting in detest. "Kid, you were so hot-headed that you jumped at the chance to fight me even when I was just passing by. Truth be told, your childish anger only served to amuse me, but still…who would've thought that you'd be so eager just to fight anything that moved."
"Oh, and you didn't?" the younger Order official questioned sarcastically as he flipped through the selections. "What's this? The Devil's Cry…hmm."
"Not as much as you kid," Dante commented as he tilted his chair back onto two legs, stretching his torso in the process. "Me…I prefer to toy with my enemies…in a way I find what really irks them before using their own strength against them. It saves time and energy, when you really think about it."
"So that would explain why you never looked really tired when we fought at all," Nero replied as he finally decided upon a song, turning back around to face his old comrade afterward. "How do you do it?"
"Hmm?" the partially dressed slayer hummed before yawning.
"How do you do it?" he reiterated. "How do you turn an enemy's strength into their greatest weakness?"
"Sorry kid, I'm not one to simply share my fighting techniques with you," Dante answered before folding his hands behind his head. "I mean, I like you as a friend, but fighting's just something you have to figure out on your own. It's taken me years to perfect my style; just take your time. It'll eventually come to you."
"Mr. Dante!" a slightly muffled voice called from outside the massive ornate doors. "Delivery!"
"Hey kid, you mind getting the door?" the elder silver-haired man questioned.
Nero rolled his eyes in annoyance before pacing over to the door and opening it. After a few exchanged words, the pizza box exchanged hands and the delivery boy was down the stairs and into his car. The young Order official glanced down at the receipt he was handed along with the pizza, absorbing a moment to view the totals before walking back to Dante's desk.
"Wow, you sure owe them a lot of money," he observed as he placed the box down on the desk. "I can't believe they let you put off paying."
"The guy that owns the shop is a good friend of mine," Dante explained as he pulled the box closer to the middle of the desk before opening it and retrieving a piece for himself. "I met him during one of my missions a few years ago. It turns out that he had a slight demon problem, and that if I was to get rid of them, he'd let me have as much pizza as I could want."
"Then why does he send you the bill if this is his thank you?" Nero questioned as he placed the receipt down next to the phone before claiming a slice.
"Well, he didn't exactly say the pizza was going to be free," the elder man corrected, taking another bite of his first piece. "However, he does let me have a tab, which I pay whenever I want."
"That sure is nice of him," the younger slayer commented, readily consuming his own piece.
"Well, sometimes demon slaying has its benefits," Dante responded as he finished his first before retrieving another slice. "So, how long are ya staying for?"
"Just a few days," Nero answered as he finished his first, glancing over at the pool table stationed just before the staircase. "You don't mind do you?"
"Nah," the experienced slayer answered, switching the positions of his feet on his desk. "You're a welcome guest, unlike some of my other visitors."
"Visitors?" the young official questioned as he paced over to the table, circling the object a few times in order to retrieve the colorful numbered balls out of the corner and side pockets.
"Yeah, mostly my assigners," Dante explained, finishing his second slice before removing his feet from the top of the desk in order to stand up, stretching his whole body afterward. "Two women and two guys, go figure."
Nero smiled as he cued up the numbered billiards, rolling the formed triangle a few times to set the balls. Lifting the triangular set, he retrieved an idle cue stick leaning against the far wall adjacent to the leather couch before placing the cue ball down on the silver circle in the open end of the table. Chalking the end of his cue stick, the young demon slayer leaned slightly over the polished edge of the table, snaking the stick in between his index and middle fingers. Squinting his eyes slightly, he carefully lined up his shot before thrusting the stick forward, contacting the cue ball. The struck cue raced toward the triangle of billiards, scattering the formation afterward. Nero straightened his back as the colored balls raced along the table's level surface, some falling into a few of the pockets lining the table.
"Not bad kid," Dante commented as he retrieved a stick for himself, chalking the end afterward.
"Eh, I thought so," Nero replied before lining the cue ball up with another small group of billiards.
"I didn't think you played pool," the rogue demon hunter noted as he followed the cue ball following Nero's turn.
"Oh yeah," the younger man answered as Dante lined up his shot. "Believe it or not, there were a few decent bars scattered around Fortuna. Each of them had about four to five pool tables."
"Let me guess, that's what you did when you didn't feel like going to work in the Order right?" Dante questioned as he shot the cue ball toward a lone billiard, sinking the ball in one of the corner pockets.
"You could say that," Nero commented, a light chuckle in his voice. "Working under Credo's supervision can get quite tedious."
"You know, you never really told me how old you are," the elder slayer commented as he lined up for his next shot.
"Twenty-seven," the Order official answered stoically.
"Really?" Dante remarked, leaning on his cue stick as the other slayer took his turn.
"Yeah, I was twenty-one when we met in Fortuna," Nero informed as he lined up his shot.
"Man, how time flies," the slightly dressed slayer commented before shaking his head. "And yet you look like you've barely changed since I last saw you."
"Is that a good thing?" the younger man questioned, aiming for the last billiard on the table.
"Well, it's not a bad thing," Dante continued, shrugging his shoulders before laying his cue stick on the table top upon the completion of the game. "Besides, I kind of like the more grown-up you."
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," Nero remarked, wrinkling the bridge of his nose slightly.
"Take it however you want kid," the experienced slayer commented before journeying into one of the back rooms. "But I'm sticking to my words."
"Well, if I'm so grown-up to you," the younger slayer began, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then how come you still refer to me as kid?"
"Because you'll always be a kid to me," Dante answered, pulling a shirt over his head upon his return. "No matter how old you get."
"Jeez," Nero retorted, rolling his eyes before stifling a yawn. "Now you sound like my father."
"Tired?" the other demon slayer questioned tilting his head.
"A little," the younger official answered rubbing his eyelids. "It was a rather long drive over."
"I'll bet," Dante remarked, placing his hands on his hips. "Fortuna isn't exactly a hop, skip and a jump away."
"Cute, Dante, real cute," Nero retorted, stretching his body afterward.
"I thought so," the elder man commented coyly. "Well, unfortunately, I don't have much in the way of a guest room, however you can sleep on the couch if you like. I mean, the other option would be to sleep in my bed, but I kind of sleep there."
"Yeah, I think I'll opt for the couch," the Order official replied before detaching his Red Queen from his back, leaning the weapon against the wall adjacent to Rebellion.
Next was Blue Rose, which was laid gently on top of the small coffee table stationed before the two couches the elder demon slayer owned. After stretching a second time, Nero shrugged out of his overcoat before slipping out of his boots. Finished with his preparations, he finally stretched out across one of the couches, utilizing his overcoat as a makeshift blanket. Dante smiled slightly as he watched the whole procedure, finding his rather polite etiquette to be rather humbling. He then noticed the soft, pulsating glow of the younger man's demonic arm as he used the appendage as a makeshift pillow. Sighing softly, the elder slayer ascended the staircase, skipping ever other step in order to quickly reach the top, opening the door to his room afterward. Dante absorbed a moment to glance over his rather untidy room before pacing over to his bed, retrieving one of his own pillows. Turning on his left heel, he exited his room and descended the staircase, the pillow clutched loosely in his right hand.
"Hey kid," he called walking closer to the occupied couch. "You still awake?"
During his trip up to his room, the younger slayer had all but passed out on the couch, his facial features relaxed into a state of deep sleep. His breathing was also deeper, indicating just how far gone in his mind he really was. Shaking his head briefly, Dante carefully lifted the younger man's head before slipping the retrieved pillow in place. After the experienced demon slayer pulled his work-worn hands free from under Nero's head, the Order official unconsciously adjusted to the slight changes. Dante then glanced over toward his rather unused closet, pacing over to it afterward.
Opening the door, he soon noted a neatly folded blanket occupying the top shelf along with a few books. Retrieving the blanket, he quickly unfolded the object, shaking it a few times to slightly loosen the folds. Wordlessly, he momentarily threw the blanket over his left shoulder before retrieving Nero's overcoat, hanging the object on the coat pole next to his. The younger man curled into a ball from the absence of his overcoat before relaxing once Dante spread the blanket over his slightly shivering form.
"Good night Nero," he whispered before walking over to the light panel next to the door, turning the dial so the lights dimmed.
He then sighed heavily before pacing back to his desk. Plopping down in his chair, he retrieved another slice of pizza before returning to his previously discarded magazine, paging through the object to read the articles he had overlooked.