Well, whoever saw this coming? XD I'm pretty sure this'll become a long ficcu, though I'm not going to do too much work on it until I know far more than I do about the Devil May Cry 1 storyline. Basically, this fic starts in the end of DMC3, then moves through DMC1 and DMC4, though that'll be mainly based on my own theories, and those I've heard, about it, and maybe I'll write something instead of DMC2? Apparently the game wasn't any good… So I dunno, I'll see where I get x3 As for pairings, I'll probably have DanteXVergil and DanteXLady in some form or another as I like both pairings. As for Trish, Nero and the others, I don't really know enough to form pairings already…
Each paragraph is supposed to be following a different character around the timeframe of DMC3's end and DMC1's start, so in this they're only a little apart. The timeframe is also supposed to be slightly contradicting in the first chapter, as it's just to introduce the main cast members. If anyone can work out which chara's being followed in every paragraph I'll be amazed o.o; Anyways, enjoy the fic x3 Thanks to all my proofreaders and helpers with this one, and happy New Year to everyone n.n
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If Dante had been asked a few years ago what was most precious to him, it would have taken some time for the young man to come up with a genuine answer; the pendant given to him by his Mother, perhaps? Of course now, as he stood in the paling twilight, looking at his reflection in a shallow puddle formed by the recent rainfall, he knew the answer effortlessly. The man who shared that same nostalgic reflection now stared back at him from the water: His twin brother, Vergil.
A gravestone stood some way from that town in a deserted place, lichens swamping over its surface, followed by a trail of gathering moss. 'Eva'. That name which was displayed was hardly clear anymore, from a long, but not forgotten time ago. The grass around the front of the stone was overgrown, though even then flowers grew, if her lover was only still here, too… that angel that stood above the stone tablet… it seemed to be waiting… waiting…
Everything seemed dead in an ancient structure some way off, too. Where, only a little while ago, an old, dusty volume had closed with a light slam. A strange man getting up from where he sat and placing the research book on the table, moving across the room to stand over by the window. Looking out of the filthy pane of glass, all the while plotting his next move. But, now there was nothing. The dirt covering the window now so soiled that nothing could be seen beyond it… though there was nothing to see there anymore, anyway.
Miles and miles below, the silence and serenity of the above world's calm was anything but repeated. Blood was splattered across the alien ground as the waged war heated up. Impacting in the crimson streams, cutting into the almost deserted landscape, the life-liquid splashing up around the heels of the young man that stood there. Total control was at stake here… Was blind pride really the best thing to follow when the silver-haired man saw those three flaming orbs? Floating above him, taunting him…
"Even the devil may cry, if he loses a loved one." a woman tried to reason with her newfound teammate, who, despite her initial bias, she had truly come to respect. It was almost certainly a time to rethink her outlook, maybe only then would the strange actions and experiences that had so recently happened be explained. Tearing the tear-filled eyes from the image in the tiny pool at last, the young man finally replied, breaking the heavy, regretful silence. "Maybe." was the only answer given, nonetheless.
Like some sort of mock nebula tearing the sky in two, the vortex spun with some sort of serene chaos in the skies above the city, storm clouds swarming to its center, thunder crashing and forks of lightning visible all around. A falling angel, or so it seemed, arms spread-eagle as it fell from the strange lights above, its eyes narrowing as it focused on the concrete below. Landing as though weighing no more than a feather, blonde hair falling and flowing all around the being as in water, the figure got to her feet. A single glance over her shoulder told the black-garbed woman where she was, a barely visible knowing smirk crossing her face as she caught sight of the neon sign flickering in the distance.
Away from the apparently unrelated events, a stranger clenched a bloody, wounded fist. Eyes narrowing as they darted over the quiet street around him, maybe, just maybe, the answers to some of the urgent questions that haunted this being would come into light here. But sometimes, when one answer is found, many more uncertainties find themselves being asked…
The battlefield was set. All the pieces were now in place, and a war like no other was about to begin. One bloodline, apparently tying all those on the lineage and anyone else willing to get close to them, together, ready to drag all of them into a bloody battle; … The descendants of Sparda.