Dante kicked the door open to the Devil May Cry. Luckily, it stayed on its hinges, however, it still produced a strident bang when it collided with the wall. This roused Dante's twin brother, Vergil, from his sleep abruptly. So, you can imagine, this didn't delight Vergil in the slightest.
Vergil made a disapproving moan under his breath as he heard footsteps of his arrogant brother enter. He opened his eyes and squinted as the sallow moonlight that shone blinded him. He blinked until the glaring rays of light weren't as intense then felt the discomfort of awaking to lumbago wash over him. From behind, his brother called.
"Vergil?" Vergil?! Where are- Oh....There you are...." The footsteps ceased and a silhouette impeded the moonlight from sparkling nevertheless the shadow still stretched into Vergil's view. He shifted his taut body to confront his brother. He grumbled, still disorientated from his sudden revival from a deep sleep. He brought his arms above his head, straightened his legs until they tensed and protracted his rigid muscles. After a few moments, he relaxed again, letting out a sigh, as his limps loosened and fell. Finally, he took a fleeting look up at Dante with somnolent eyes but unexpectedly averted his gaze.
"What time do you call this?" He mumbled unenthusiastically rubbing both corners of his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. Dante took no heed to his brother. Instead, he walked at a saunter to his desk, cast down his sword, Rebellion, (This made a raucous clang as it struck the floor, making Vergil jerk significantly, he exhaled with a growl of lament) and proceeded to lean on the edge of his desk, arms folded, before ultimately answering.
"Late." He stated definitely. "Were you asleep?" when he averred this he unfolded his arms, put them behind his back and couldn't refrain to let a grin inch across his face as he cocked his head with inquisitiveness. Vergil sat forward and set his face in his hands sluggishly. He raised his head and folded his arms, still bent forward, now watching his feet.
"Yes. I was. It's 3:00am, Dante. Everyone is." He said this with a hint of aggravation in his voice. Dante's reaction to this was to sneer with apathy, he offered both his hands up whilst he elucidated:
"Sorry, bro! Job was a pain today, took me hours to find the address and once I did find it no-one showed up, so I made my way to the courtyard where they were sighted, found the demons at last but by that time it was about 6. Then...." He stopped himself and fashioned an expression of thought. Vergil, noticing this, frowned at the suspension and looked up.
"Then what?" He asked. Dante glimpsed at him then studied the ceiling in concentration, he also frowned.
"I-I dunno....I can't remember..." He muttered distantly. He shed his gaze down to the floor, then to the door and the desk he sat on previously before his countenance altered. He scowled irritably to himself anon he continued to confer.
"What I do remember is waking up on the floor with this mother-fucker on my shoulder." He drew his jacket off his shoulder. The material had attached itself to Dante's skin. Vergil raised an eyebrow perplexed. With a grimace Dante peeled the rest of the jacket away to exhibit to his brother a wound he acquired that coated the entire width of his shoulder and neck. The perforation was unsullied and red, pumping blood through the deep punctures scattered in a strangely patterned shape around his neck.
Vergil stared bemused at the huge, bloody injury for a moment. He blinked twice prior to speaking.
"That is a good nick....And you don't know how you got it?" Dante shrugged his rejoinder.
"Just woke up and it was there...." He confirmed. Vergil pushed himself to his feet and advanced toward Dante transfixed to his maimed shoulder. He jerked up a sleeve and highlighted:
"Shouldn't it have healed by now?" He then pushed up the opposite sleeve. Dante sneaked a quick glance from Vergil, to his hands apprehensively. He answered him.
"That's what got me spooked. It should have healed by now; What sort of demon does that?" He threw the question out rhetorically, for, he knew of no demon that made wounds not heal. (Or heal as they normally should.) Vergil still replied to this.
"I don't know." He paused. "Wait..." He loomed nearer and scrutinized the wound thoroughly. Dante grew more and more perturbed of him as he raised a hand, he whispered soothingly.
"Doesn't this look like-..." Dante arose swiftly from the counter, fortified that he dodged Vergil's attempt to touch his wound, and strode a few steps forward before wheeling around to confront Vergil. Vergil let his hand subside. He turned and faced Dante explicitly.
"Does it hurt?" He queried with a devious smile. Dante glowered at him for a moment, incredulous of what he just said. He hesitated in his response.
"N-No! I just don't want you touching it! God knows where your hands have been." He combined the preceding statement with a roll of his eyes. Vergil folded his arms, disregarding what Dante just implied and shifted his weight onto his right leg before continuing. His hesitation and overcompensation both verify his pain. Vergil maybe spiteful and astute perhaps even a man of corrupt morals but he was perceptive. He knew, understood, why Dante avoided this situation. Thus, Vergil merely said.
"It does, doesn't it?"
Dante was mum at this point. He couldn't deceive Vergil. He's too erudite for that, Dante grasped that concept as the opportunities for Vergil to justify himself kept on recurring every time they got in a agreement. So, Dante stood there, mouthing a gape.
"Let me see it..." Vergil demanded firmly, gesturing for Dante to return to the desk.
Dante sulkily trudged back to his desk and Vergil. He couldn't help but have an expression of worry on his visage as Vergil started to approach his wound again. Vergil stimulated Dante's skin slightly which resulted in Dante recoiling and breathing in harshly. Vergil heaved a sigh at his brother's frailty and persisted analyzing the gashes. First thing that came to Vergil's attention (and probably Dante's) was the smell. It was sordid. It couldn't be compared to anything that Vergil could think of off the top of his head. Secondly, the profile an structure of the wound prompted Vergil's knowledge of….something...The word was deluded to him. In fact he would have came to a conclusion if Dante didn't drew back and made him fail to remember the theory. Lastly, there was no infection inside the abrasions. Just healthy, fresh tissue. Odd. Considering Dante was lying on the floor unconscious for God knows how long with no bandage over the wound. Also, since there is no infection then where is the smell coming from?
Vergil released Dante and stood upright, frowning. The shape...It's so familiar. "It's staring me in the face." Vergil thought as he took a step back while Dante rose and relied on him for advice but still stayed taciturn. "Glass? No...Why would there be glass in a courtyard? Bullets? No... How could bullets make a full circle of punctures?" Vergil still frowned at this dilemma to himself assessing every possibility yet arriving at no outcome. Dante exhaled slightly and declared with a chuckle.
"Man. Whatever did this, it's bite is definitely worse than its bark."
Vergil's eyes widened with revelation and he looked up to Dante as if he was a saint. Dante was taken aback by Vergil's sudden stare of admiration.
"What?"
"That's it!" Vergil exclaimed. "It's a bite! How could I have missed that?" He added quietly, he said this more to himself than to Dante. He identified its simplicity yet couldn't deem a word for it.
Dante glanced around uncertainly then spat with a unforeseen venom. "And why is this a big deal?" Vergil addressed Dante yet again and clarified wilfully.
"Because how many demons do you know actually bite their prey?" There was motionlessness for a fraction of a second.
"What d'ya mean?" Dante insisted baffled, he cocked an eyebrow at this.
Vergil sighed heavily with exasperation. "Demons can use weapons and they're supernatural abilities, why would they need to bite? It wasn't a demon that did this." He made a motion at Dante's shoulder brusquely. Another awkward silence had crept into the room. Vergil then turned away from Dante and propped himself against the wall.
"Then what did?" Dante enquired after Vergil, still in disarray. Vergil peered over his shoulder half-heartedly.
"You won't like this, but I think it was an animal. A bite to the neck is a pretty primitive way of trying to kill something. A demon wouldn't be that....well....outright. You and I both know they are more cunning than that..."
Dante marched forward, clutched his brothers shoulder, span him around and hauled him closer so that he would contemplate him.
"Are you saying I was attacked by some random mutt or something?" Vergil shoved his brother's hand off of his shoulder with a snarl. He said.
"No. Have you seen the size of it?" He indicated.
"Yes Vergil, I have." Sarcasm surged boldly in this response.
"Then you must know that no dog is big enough to make a bite like that." Vergil had pacified Dante yet again with his superior intellect and realistic perspective. Dante, however, was not impressed by this. He groused in protest to the implication that something that wasn't a demon or a small animal, had done this to him. Vergil half closed his eyes. A swell of fatigue drained his remaining vigour and he yawned silently. He grumbled as he rubbed his temples sensitively.
"Can we talk about this in the morning?...I'm shattered."
Dante also yawned, not long after Vergil did then closed his eyes with a smirk while he replied jadedly.
"Same."
And so, Vergil, being the more weary of the two, gradually staggered to the chair in which he slept in formerly, collapsed in its tepid, supple, cushioned felt and sank somewhat into it. It wasn't long in advance when he drifted into sleep. Dante, on the contrary, reclined in his chair with a magazine sprawled over his phizog and his legs up on his desk soon would drowse into a dreamless slumber.
A few hours elapse and the night seemed prolonged. Serene were these hours. Shrill cries of bats in the darkness floated on the breeze as it blew east. In the west a trivial hue of orange stained the obscurely discouraging night sky, The suns blazing radiance approached rapidly. Yet everything below was static and numb. This included Vergil and Dante within the Devil May Cry. However, Dante, in his dreams, started to stir.