In bored silence he followed behind Kat as she rambled adoringly on about The Order, hands shoved deep in his pockets. She'd been useful when the Hunter Demon had showed and while he initially agreed to go with her, was regretting that decision now. Her voice raked over his sensitive hearing though comprehension eluded him, by choice, his eyes scanning the dark walls and chalk drawings. What a shithole, hidden behind a facade built of thick concrete and steel. He fell a few steps behind the woman, running his fingers across years of dirt caked upon the walls catching something about last line of defense or whatever she was prattling on about now.
The pair continued deeper underground passing by all manner of cameras and computers; all hissing and humming away with humans flicking their fingers across keyboards and shooting him wary glances. Running a gloved hand through his dark hair he glared into the back of Kat's head, his interest lost and patience wearing very thin. They had come to another steel door, looking like all the others, that opened on loud hinges as they approached.
"So where's this boss of yours?" he growled, the bite of metal on metal grating on his nerves. He was about to turn around and tell the pretty thing in which direction she could fuck off.
He inhaled sharply in annoyance but as the woman parted those pretty red lips to answer he went rigid. A scent struck him so hard that he paused all movement and thought, but shrugged it outwardly off to be replaced by an indifferent demeanor. Internally he was alight with fire. His spine tingled and head swam, it was not unpleasant, indeed he felt as if he was almost floating, or really fucking drunk. It was a scent he knew but yet had no memory of, and the heat it brought across his skin was both alluring and concerning. He'd never reacted to anything in such an intense manner, biting down on his tongue to keep from appearing as if anything was amiss.
Grey blue eyes shot through the open doorway in the direction of a lone figure standing in the middle of the large room. The mask from the terrorist on TV sat on a stand and clearly this was whom he'd been brought to see. His gaze hardened; staring at what could have almost been a mirror image. A trick perhaps though he felt no real threat of danger surrounding him.
"Amazing… Dante, it really is you" the figure said, bathed in partial shadow his hands resting on the hilt of a katana. A dark jacket with blue designs wrapped around his body that so mimicked the height and stature of Dante, in contrast to the black jeans and leather coat that hung loosely around his shoulders.
Dante shrugged in annoyance, of course it was him who the fuck else would it be. Who was he to sit in shadow and remind him of who he was. Coward, what did he even want?
The shadowy figure bowed his head slightly, 'You don't remember me." There was a touch of sadness in his tone.
"No." Dante snapped back in irritation.
"How much of your childhood do you remember?"
"Psh, not much. I had meningitis when I was seven – wiped my memory- why?"
"Hah! They told me I had a car accident that resulted in total amnesia. Age: Seven."
"Your point?" Dante was beginning to give in to his rage now, the thought of taking Rebellion out and showing this man he was not to be trifled with all too forefront in his mind. What it would feel like as his blade sliced through that cynical grin and left him choking, drowning as his lungs filled up with blood. The light fading from his eyes as he futilely attempted to cling to life.
"Meningitis is a human affliction. You are not human, Dante." The man in front of him strode forward, and his scent became deeper. Dante felt a rush of blood to his groin and an all too familiar heat rose. He was becoming… aroused? His shut his mind down before it could continue, studying the stranger with external indifference. Inside his emotions began to boil and churn, demanding attention from this other being who elicited such a response from him. Now touched with light he could see that aside from the silvery hair he and this other man looked the same, right down to their eyes that smoldered like sapphires.
"All war is fought with deception and you have been deceived. Your past has been hidden from you for a reason."
Snapping in annoyance Dante leaned forward on the balls of his feet pressing a finger to the others chest, "Rewind a bit – who are you again?"
"My name is Vergil. I established The Order to help to find a way to fight the demons."
"Besides swords and bullets you mean?"
"Such weapons can win battles, but not the war. We use force, yes, but we also use intelligence, politics, propaganda." Vergil smiled as he strode around like a preening peacock. Least he was taking his scent with him, though not entirely.
"You really believe you can make a dent?" Dante sneered, he felt sorry for him, Vergil, and Kat. He was delusional? That made three of them.
Vergil was incredulous, "Make a dent? With the two of us working together, I believe that we can defeat them!"
"So that's what this is about," now he understood why he was standing twelve feet underground, "You need me to fight the demons, help you save the world."
"What else were you planning on doing with your life?"
What a prick, he didn't know a damn thing about him save for his name and that accounted for so little.
"Well you guys do seem really nice, but I'm more of a loner type: trust issues, work alone –That kind of thing."
"Dante, I don't think you understand what is at stake." Kat piped up moving forward, concerned, but she was silenced as Vergil held up his hand.
"If you want to leave – turn your back on me, I'm powerless to stop you. But you'll be making a grave mistake. Not just for yourself, but for mankind."
"For mankind!?"
"Yes!"
"What makes you think I give a shit?"
Vergil paused a moment, his expression unreadable, "At least give me a chance to show you."
"Show me what?"
"Who you really are."
