Prison Sex
Humidity was my only companion here— wherever here was...
There was a time when I was young and the heat was not so unbearable. I remembered when my brother and I played in the summer sun for hours on end. Just hours upon hours of disregard for the sunburns we were sure to suffer.
Never had we been able to bask in Autumn leaves, Spring's cherry blossoms, or feel the snowflakes tickle our noses. Summer was our only constant.
We frequently moved around— Mother, Dante, and I were mere vagrants, whisked from one state to the next with demonic threats nipping at our heels. We were one moment in Georgia's long-lingering sun, the next in Philadelphia's sweltering concrete jungle; from palatal manors to pest-infested studio tenements. We traveled the spectrum. In any case, Mother diligently placed an effort in meeting our needs. She tried her best to make sure that food was in mine and Dante's bellies and we had a cozy bed to rest our heads.
Dante and I never knew about the demons. But, we knew we were running from something; running for our lives. She desperately tried to maintain some illusion of innocence. She would try to preamble each move with some references to children's storybooks.
"Tomorrow, we'll start a new adventure," Mother said.
Those words were our cue to begin to pack, to end any of the few friendships we had made, to play at some normalcy in new place.
All I can seem to conjure in my mind are their faces, how we laughed and tried to make the best of a bad situation. This must be what is meant by that old cliché, "a life flashing before one's eyes."
They are my haunting specters.
I thought it odd to begin remembering such things here and now. Mundus had long robbed me of my memories after my defeat. Before these flashes of my brother and mother, I was a blank slate. As far as I knew, my life began the moment he stood over my broken and bleeding body. Ghosts of the past— rather, vague remembrances of a forgotten life lingered in my mind. I craved to know the source of these images.
Why did I dream of the women and her twin boys? Were they real memories or the machinations of a tortured mind?
For the first time, I had begun to question my existence. Which race does this form belong; Human or demon? Did I have siblings? Were my parents stern or kind? Did I even have parents? I wondered who I was. I could not have had my beginnings here in such a miserable, desolate place. I knew that I had a life elsewhere. Whether I was happy or not remained a mystery to me until now.
A slave I am; Mundus's slave. Perhaps this was his idea of a joke, to remind me of a half-forgotten life. Whatever his intentions, these memories have left me with much to lament.
And here I was, in a dark, humid cell. Caged in with only a small mound of straw to sleep on and a hole a few feet away to piss and shit into. I am made to wait here until I am called upon to defeat whatever remained of his opposition. I am a puppet no better than his Marionettes.
"Nelo Angelo," I heard voice say, "Prepare yourself."
I knew the routine all too well. The rusty gate of my cell sprung open and I drew myself up in obedience. Two tall, armored lizards or Blades as their demonic race is called, entered the cell and flanked me without bothering with any restraints. They escorted me down the dark, dank corridors to the arena.
The whole place convulsed with wild cheers, applause, and chanting. The hungry crowds screamed for blood and carnage. Finally, we emerged from a tunnel to the brightly lit sand and stone ring. The two Blades promptly left my side and the gate slammed shut behind me. Not long after, an Alto Angelo entered the arena from a tunnel opposite mine. I watched as the bastardization of my form, clad in white armor, paraded about the arena, waving to the audience and saluting Mundus.
My opponents were normally old generals from the time my father and Mundus served together. They were the old guards still bound by honor to the last Devil King and did not blindly agree to Mundus's regime change. They were dying breeds that were murdered by my hands to make a point. He wanted all of the Demon Realm to know, "The Master will not suffer weakness."
I must admit that I had not expected to do battle with the creation of a mad genius that was now under the control of a Devil King. I would not be surprised at the prospect of him using this blood bath as a springboard to usurp my former position as Mundus's lieutenant.
The Devil King in question stood in his private box, also receiving his adulations. He signaled for his gladiators to begin.
The Alto Angelo and I circled each other, both of us eyeing the weapons strewn across the arena, both of us ready to dive for the nearest one when the other made a move. We soon grew tired of the stalemate and moved to attack. He went for an oversized, spiked, iron mallet and I for the broadsword that lay at my feet. This was not my usual choice in weaponry and likely not his for that matter. I can only guess at my opponent's experience, but I had plenty of practice during my time as… What do I call myself now? Vergil or Nelo Angelo? Which was I then?
I grabbed my sword and jump backwards, narrowly missing the blow from the massive war hammer. With a flourish he brought his hammer around his back and then up to strike again. I blocked the downward blow with the sword. Both metals screamed at the opposing forces. His brute strength proved to be greater as I sank down to my knees. I took the opportunity to sweep my leg under his legs and gave myself time and space to recover.
I rolled to my feet, keeping my eyes on him. He charged at me just as I spun and swung my sword into a fury slashes and stabs. I remained on the offensive, gaining the upper hand and chipping away at his armor.
But, then he twisted his hammer around, ramming the pole under my chin. I gasped at the impact and reeled backwards. The Alto Angelo saw his opening and landed a blow to my chest. The force knocked me into a far wall.
It took a while to collect my thoughts, to even recall what happened. The hit was so devastating I could have sworn I lost my mind along with my breath. I tried to stand and enter the fray once more, but alas my legs could not hold up my weight. I am sure a number of my ribs were obliterated with that last wallop.
He approached to deliver the final strike and all I could do was will my hand into a white-knuckle grasp of the sword. Despite this I knew I had no defense. There was no use in trying, but I could not give up the ghost.
The hammer rose.
Out the corner of my eye I saw a lone figure. I turned my head to the right and focused my blurring vision to it.
"Dante?" My voice was much raspier than I remembered it.
He came closer and crouched near me. Not the little boy from my visions, but a grown man with his fully realized devil powers. He said nothing, only gazed at me with those sorrowful eyes. That same expression he wore each time we parted ways in the past.
I must have imagined him. Guilt makes one do crazy things. A rueful chuckle escaped me. If he were really here, what could I have possibly said to him? Sorry didn't quite cut it. He was the only family I had left and stole that from him. I victimized him. I raped his peace of mind. How do I even begin to apologize for that? All I could do is hope. Hope that wherever Dante is, he is doing well and is surround by people who have become the family he deserved.
"It's okay." His voice is gentle.
I smiled at his simple words. A strange feeling washed over me as I closed my eyes.
The hammer fell.
:::::
"Verge! Verge, wake up!"
I slowly opened my eyes to find an identical pair staring back at me. As the remnants of sleep's fog clear my mind, I began to notice that I was being straddled by a young boy, no older than six years old, dressed in pajamas adorned with red fire trucks. I looked down and saw that I was dressed similarly, only with blue police cars.
A small hand wrapped around mine and tugged as he slid off of me.
"I know it's early, but you gotta come see."
"See what," I asked.
"You're never gonna believe this!"
"Believe what?"
He didn't readily answer. He only squeezed my hand tighter and proceeded to drag me out of bed, out of our shared room, down the hall to the balcony opposite of the shared living room/dining room/kitchen area. He opened the glass sliding door and stepped onto the cold concrete.
"It's snowing." His voice was a mere whisper.
I watched as the flakes fluttered down over the city and landed in his hair. I joined him on the balcony still disbelieving what I saw, the chill I felt in the air. I lifted my face and felt the snowflakes tickle my nose.
A/N: I hoped you enjoyed. This was requested by Da'Burgh73 many, many, many years ago. I finally made good on my promise. YAY! Thank you for your infinite patience.
Raise your hand if your mind was in the gutter. I know that the title and synopsis intimated that there would be sex involved, but Da'Burgh73 and I thought that it would be appropriate because of the nature of the song and in some respects, the nature of the fandom at the time. The lyrics allude to rape only when you think of the title, but the lyrics have a deeper meaning of regretting the cycle of hurting people because you have been hurt in the past. Sorry to have pulled the wool over your eyes, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless.
Please review and tell me how I can make myself into a stronger writer.