Thanks to EricDraven for advising me to cut the chapters in half for easier reading!

Still don't own Devil May Cry. Darn.


The Passage of Time

Part One: The Longest Night

Chapter 2: Blood and Bloodlines

Dante winced as Yamato cut into his side. More blood splattered onto the floor, and from the sharp look on Vergil's face, it looked like Rebellion had gotten him again too. The sight of their blood mixing together on the floor was almost gruesome, even for him. Shared bloodline or not.

Vergil was a fast and effective fighter, almost so fast at times that he seemed like a blue and white blur even to Dante's more than capable eyes. This was why Dante loved to challenge him, even if Vergil had an annoying tendency to defeat him in the end. Vergil was the one consistently difficult opponent that Dante had ever faced, lesser demons and average thugs constituting a bland, easily defeated medium that simply wasn't worth his time. He could meet his brother hit to hit, sword to sword, and now devil form to devil form, and feel the blood rushing through his body and his pulse racing and the bloodlust of battle.

And he was also stopping Vergil from opening up Hell too, but Dante selfishly wanted to beat Vergil more.

They rushed at each other again, swords meeting in the middle in a match of strength and willpower. Vergil stared back at him with eyes gleaming with determination, rage, and, oddly, a bit of excitement, stray hairs falling out of their usual perfect coif to hang across his face. Then, suddenly, his gaze shifted to just past Dante's shoulder. In a moment of connection between the two twins, Dante knew exactly what was behind them, and as Vergil leapt back, swung his sword to slice a missile in half. Vergil completed the action by slicing it again, and the quarters fell uselessly to the ground.

That girl. She was standing back towards the entrance to the chamber, determined, her missile launcher pointed straight at them and the launch tube still smoking from the recent shot. What was she doing, butting in on this fight when it was none of her business? Couldn't she have just shot him earlier if she wanted to shoot him so badly? More importantly, she was staring at Vergil with malice, hardly acknowledging the other man in the room. As if they hadn't fought earlier. As if he weren't the more handsome twin.

He suddenly became hyper-aware of her every breath, every twitch, every blink. Her presence was like a nagging thought, preventing him from staying focused on the task at hand. She needed to leave before she got herself into more trouble. Already Vergil was looking back at her with cool interest, which Dante knew from experience was bad news.

Dante inhaled sharply and turned away from her. "Sorry, but this is no place for a little girl," he said, raising his sword to show Vergil that he was ready to continue their fight. Vergil, of course, only briefly glanced at Dante before looking back to the girl. Bastard. What was he thinking? "So beat it."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, instantly wheeling her rocket launcher on him and firing. Clearly she didn't plan on leaving.

Dante leapt back, the missile passing in front of him. Vergil seemed to have torn his eyes off of the girl long enough to jump after him, opting to continue their fight. Good. Unfortunately, the girl was rushing towards them as well, undoubtedly to meddle. Less good. He kept an eye on her as he and Vergil attacked and parried, then locked swords again. Vergil must have sensed her coming too, for he raised his katana to break the standoff just as she arrived on the spot, ready to spear him with the bayonet on her rocket launcher. He swung loosely—Dante noticed, almost imperceptibly, that Vergil's precision wasn't quite as sharp as it had been at the beginning of the fight—knocking back both the rocket launcher and Rebellion, causing them both to stumble backwards. Vergil tightened his grip on Yamato before attacking the disoriented girl, hitting her rocket launcher once more. Caught by surprise, she spun and tumbled to the floor a few feet away, landing uselessly on her stomach.

Dante gritted his teeth and lunged forward to attack Vergil, but his brother jumped into the air, seemingly to attack the girl again. Dante almost shouted a warning but noticed that she was now on her back, staring up at the oncoming attack with wide, scared eyes. More determined than ever, he swung his sword up to parry Vergil's, but he was knocked back by the impact. Vergil spun in the air before landing just in front of the girl, who had now recovered enough to block Yamato with her missile launcher just before it sliced her.

"You forced him into this!" she shouted, voice breaking as she pushed back against Vergil's attack.

Dante was surprised when Vergil weakened the force of his attack, his face softening in his version of surprise. What were they talking about, her father? What was going on? Dante tightened the grip on his sword and ran forward.

"Is that what you think?" Vergil's face remained as impassive as ever as he shook his head. "Foolish girl," he added condescendingly.

The girl's face widened in surprise at Vergil's words, but her gaze flitted upward suddenly as Dante lunged forward to strike at Vergil. He would have been angry at her for giving him away if Vergil hadn't sensed it first, taking advantage of her shock by spinning to block at Dante's attack. She seemed to snap back to attention at that point, spinning out of the way as both men continued attacking one another relentlessly, but Dante noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was looking down, distracted by her own thoughts. Well, at least she was out of the way. He could focus on attacking Vergil now.

They clashed swords again and again. Dante felt himself weaken considerably, and though Vergil's attacks were as strong as ever, his moves were erratic with fatigue. They were running on adrenaline by this point, not sure what they were doing exactly, so long as they could try to get a hit on the other.

All of a sudden there was an opening. Dante sliced forward, cutting into the flesh of Vergil's side, causing the other twin to spin from the impact. He could end this battle right there, he thought, swinging his sword into place for a vertical slice. He just needed to make one more hit and Vergil could be down for a while. Then he could go back to that girl and find out what the hell she was—

Dante grunted in pain as he felt Yamato slice his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Distracted. He got fucking distracted and missed his opening for one last blow, and in the heat of battle no less! What was he thinking? Was he really that worn out?

He got his answer when he fell to the ground, panting as blood dripped from the new wound across his abdomen. Across from him, Vergil was kneeling too, sword outstretched, glaring at Dante as if his look could kill. Dante adjusted his sword as if to prop himself up to stand, but his weight fell heavily against it and he couldn't move his limbs. He hung his head down, hearing nothing other than his and Vergil's heavy breaths, and, faintly, the girl's delicate inhale and exhale.

The sound of someone clapping filled the room, and Dante briefly wonder if that girl was really being that much of a bitch. But a voice soon joined the applause, and Dante lifted his head in frustration as a purple figure appeared.

"Bravo, bravo!" Jester said, stepping forward from the shadows with nothing short of confidence. "I never dreamed that things would go so smoothly." Jester stopped, not too far from the girl, who was looking away from the demon with apprehension and disgust. "Well done, everyone. Well done!"

Dante suddenly felt strength in his limbs, and he pushed himself up to stand, albeit slowly due to the pain. "You!" he said, his voice low and snarling. To his right, Vergil was also attempting to stand.

The girl, appearing to sense the threat, frowned and turned to face Jester, who suddenly appeared next to her. He grabbed onto her missile launcher and made a slurped lewdly with his tongue. "Don't be a bad girl, Mary!" he said menacingly, pulling her closer before lifting the launcher and tossing her aside with a rough shove. She landed on her stomach, crying out in pain. "Or you can expect a spanking from Daddy later!"

That was her name. Mary. From where he had finally forced himself to stand, Dante watched as Mary writhed slightly on the ground, her muscles aching. But how could Jester have known? He gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to behead that stupid demon. But his limbs still felt heavy, and he struggled to move.

Mary. It was too pious for her, he decided. Her name was Mary, but it didn't suit her.

Jester continued grinning wildly, breaking into a stupid song and dance. "Jester's gonna spank your butt. Spank you on the bu—!"

"Insane buffoon!" Vergil interrupted, standing with his sword ready to strike. Damn it, how had Vergil already recovered when he hadn't? "I don't know where you came from, but you don't belong here." Vergil's face tightened in his frown as Jester derisively dropped Mary's missile launcher, which he was still holding. "Now leave!" he shouted, charging forward at the purple-clothed demon.

Vergil ran forward with no less anger and determination than Dante had ever seen him express when they fought. He swung his sword through the air, a blow which would have sliced Jester clean in half if the other demon hadn't stopped the sword with his hands only inches in front of his face. Vergil let out a small, almost fragile sound of disbelief, and it was right then that Dante knew that this wasn't going to end well.

"Zowie, that was close!" Jester said, just as lightly as ever. Vergil stared back, angry, attempting to force the blade through the demon's hands but unable to for some reason. "But you've taken quite a trouncing today, haven't you, Vergil?" Jester mocked, snaking one hand up the blade and moving it aside with two fingers, effortlessly. "You could've chopped me into confetti by now if you were in tip-top condition."

"Damn you!" Vergil snarled, his face dangerously close to Jester's. If Dante hadn't known better, he would guessed that Vergil would try to bite his nose off, if it meant drawing blood.

"You have lost..." Jester said, only it wasn't Jester, because his voice was lower and more menacing. Vergil and Mary noticed the shift too, because both shared similar expressions of shock, though Vergil stared straight at Jester while Mary kept her gaze averted, her face looking down in horror. On his own end, Dante was trying to figure out if someone else was throwing his voice, or maybe if they all had imagined it.

Taking advantage of Vergil's surprise, Jester shoved his free arm up, knocking it into Vergil's form. The half-demon skidded across the floor on his face before turning over, landing roughly on his back with a grunt.

"...because you have underestimated humans," Jester continued, only it wasn't Jester, it was that man. The creepy man from the shop. The dead man. Mary's father.

Mary looked up at her father, still lying on her stomach. Her eyes were wide and her brows lifted, a perfectly crafted expression of vulnerability, confusion, fear, sadness, anger, and any other conflicting emotion she must have been feeling at the time. It made her seem as young as she really was, rather than the hardened woman she attempted to be. "What's going on?" she gasped.

"Good girl," the man said, turning his head towards his daughter. He kept his chin high, almost aristocratically, a sharp contrast to Jester's constant movement. Were they the same person? Dante still couldn't wrap his mind around it. "Pure and innocent ... just like your mother."

Mary stared forward in absolute horror before pulling out one of her guns from its holster. "You bastard!" she exclaimed, pointing the gun at the air where her father had once been standing. Jester suddenly appeared behind her, but before she could even process this new information, he used one of his thin, clawed hands to grab her by the head, yanking it back painfully.

"It's time for your spanking, my dear!" Jester said as Mary raised her gun to shoot him away. Jester suddenly guided her head to the floor, pulled it up and then slammed it again the floor with a sickening crack.

Dante stayed frozen to the spot, not quite sure what was going on, nor how he should react to it. He wasn't scared—him, scared? That would be the day. But so many questions were running through his head that he wasn't sure how to process any of it. He wanted to know what the man had planned, why he was switching back and forth between that annoying-as-fuck demon and his normal human form, and what all of this meant for him, for them, for the rest of the world... For her. How was she doing, and how hurt was she? He couldn't see her face from where he leaned against Rebellion, only the back of her head, with Jester's white fingers and purple nails woven through the shiny black strands of her hair. It was sick.

"You want to know why the spell didn't break, hmm, Vergil?" Jester continued, releasing his grip on Mary's head to stand. His eyes glinted ferociously; he was going somewhere with this speech of his, mocking Vergil for his inability to open the portal. Dante believed that the demon was secretly mocking him too, for his inability to move and defend his brother and the girl who was lying vulnerably on the floor. It wasn't so much what he said as it was the way he pranced around like he owned the place. He didn't. "You have the two amulets and Sparda's blood. You had everything you needed to unleash the evil!"

"I told you before," Dante said, finding bravado once more. He stood up straight and pointed at Jester with Ivory. "I don't like anybody who has a bigger mouth than mine."

Jester moved his hands up to his face in an expression of insincere shock and Dante, enraged, extended his arms and fired with both guns. Jester, however, was fast, appearing from place to place as he had earlier on in the tower, dancing to avoid Dante's uncharacteristically sloppy fire.

"You are wounded and weak," Jester taunted from the ceiling. He laughed, appearing right above Dante. "Even I can do..."

Dante gasped as Jester flew down at him, feet first, crashing straight into his face. Excruciating pain lit up his vision, turning it to white despite the feet covering his eyes as his head was forced to the ground, causing a new set of stars to burst in his vision.

"...this to you!" Jester finished, and the limbs that Dante hadn't even been aware were still in the air crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. Jester laughed, springing gracefully off of Dante's face, knowing full well that he had completely control of the situation.

Dante turned onto his side, wheezing as his broken nose healed itself—it was times like that he was really grateful for his accelerated healing, despite how sluggishly it was working. He looked across the room, past Jester-now-human-again's feet at Mary, who was beginning to stir where she had previously lain helplessly. She glanced at him, briefly, before looking down in shame and frustration as she tried to push herself up. Dante couldn't help but feel a little slighted.

"Two amulets ... a set of Sparda's blood," the man said, walking through the center of the room, in the middle of the three of them, towards Mary. "Now I need one more key." He reached down, grabbing Mary's discarded missile launcher before regally straightening again and continuing towards Mary. Dante winced, attempting to stand but still feeling too weak to do so. Some feet away, Vergil was doing a bit better, but still down for the count. "He sacrificed two things to suppress the tremendous force of this tower: his own Devil's blood, and a mortal priestess."

Without warning, the man forced the bayonet of the missile launcher into the flesh of her thigh. Mary's head shot up, eyes and mouth wide as she shouted in pain, a cry that she tried to suppress even as it ripped from her throat. She shuddered, lowering her forehead to the floor as she writhed lightly under the weight of the blade jammed in her leg.

Dante felt his fists clench in anger as he attempted to stand to help Mary. He wanted to look at her, comfort her, and though her face eventually turned in his direction her eyes were staring straight past him, at some unknown point as she gritted her teeth and attempted to control the small moans that were escaping despite herself. Blood was running down the sides of her thighs, pooling around her on the floor.

"I needed you," the man continued, his voice a low growl, "in whose body flows the same blood as the sacrificed woman. His spell cannot be undone without your blood!"

Off to his left, he heard Vergil rustle in another attempt to move. Dante would have teased his brother for sympathizing with a human when it was something that he so clearly would never do, but soon realized that Vergil was probably moving so he could stop his former assistant and take his place as the one with all of the power.

"It was quite a ride you know!" Jester exclaimed, having now taken the man's place. He ripped the blade out of Mary's leg, clumsily, and she cried out in pain again. She was bleeding heavily now, now that there was nothing blocking the entrance to the wound. "If any of your had died before getting here," he continued, dancing with the missile launcher in his hands, "our little plan would have gone to waste!" He swung the missile launcher through the air, drops of her blood flying all over. Dante was pretty sure he felt one as far back as he was nearly-standing.

Jester propped the missile launcher by the blade against the floor, leaning against it conversationally. "Therefore, my job was to make you battle each other in order to weaken you. But at the same time, I had to guide you here and make sure that you were kept alive. I even went so far as dressing like a complete idiot!" He laughed, and Dante nearly laughed too, his earlier opinion of Jester validated, particularly because Jester didn't seem to notice that he and Vergil were now standing and slowly moving towards him, and that Mary, while still on the floor, had regained a lot of her strength. "It's time for bed, Mary," Jester said menacingly, looking down at his daughter. "You can visit your dear mother."

He looked up, cackling wildly at the ceiling, but was quickly interrupted by Mary's leg kicking out and catching her missile launcher from where the demon was leaning against it. She spun, looking surprisingly confident despite what must have been excruciating pain in her leg, standing with her missile launcher pointed directly at Jester, who let out a small sound of surprise.

"Try me," she said, her voice cool.

Vergil and Dante met behind Jester, Vergil arriving only a second before Dante, much to Dante's dismay. Yamato and Rebellion crossed behind Jester's neck, ensuring that he couldn't escape. "It's time for the clown to bow out, Arkham," Vergil growled.

"Dude, the show's over!" Dante added, enjoying the feeling of being in power again despite the anger that bubbled under the surface of his skin.

"Impressive," Arkham said. Dante was starting to get weirded out by Arkham's constant, instantaneous transformations to and from Jester. "I expected nothing less from the Devil's descendants. But aren't you forgetting something, Vergil?" Dante glanced at Vergil, who was looking back at Arkham with uncharacteristic confusion. "The spell is broken. What do you think will happen next?" Arkham's voice slowed to a crawl as the sound of stone sliding against stone filed the air. Dante didn't dare to look away from Arkham now, unsure what the man had planned.

"Let's welcome chaos!" Arkham hissed.

The ceiling opened, the air turned red, and the floor shook. Dante cursed as he lost his balance, his sword flailing from its position near Arkham's neck, and to compensate he stabbed forward, hoping to skewer that bastard to hold him in place. Arkham dropped out of sight and Rebellion clashed in the middle with Yamato and Kalina Ann, Vergil and Mary having also apparently lost their balance once the floor started moving.

Suddenly, Dante felt his legs kicked out from under him, and a quick glance down showed that Arkham had merely ducked out of sight and was responsible. He felt the impact of Vergil being kicked into him before careening into Mary. The three were flung off of the platform, which had now risen a good thirty feet into the air, and he landed on the stone floor below, face first.

"Fuck," Dante hissed, propping himself up with a pained wince. He still wasn't healing well. Looking around, there was no one around him. Where were Vergil and Mary?

"Just sit and wait!" he heard Arkham call out from above them. Dante pushed himself to stand with Rebellion and randomly ran to his left. "Wait for the birth of a new God! I shall take over the power of Sparda!"

There she was, staring up at her father as he laughed maniacally, arms outstretched. It was a miracle that she was standing with that wound, but it seemed as though the adrenaline rush of her fear and frustration was keeping her on her feet. She was stepping backwards, fists clenched, and her face twisted into a rather attractive scowl. He felt himself slow simply to observe her before noticing that the floor behind her was crumbling and she was walking straight back, completely clueless. He ran forward, wanting to call out to her but his voice was trapped in his throat. As if on cue, the ground broke and Mary lost her footing with a startled cry. Dante was barely faster, stumbling, nearly falling onto his face as he reached out to grab her, managing to catch himself on his knees. He grabbed her wrist in the nick of time, taking comfort in the small noises that she made when she looked up to see her savior.

And there she was, sweaty and bloody and startled and safe. He wondered how he must have looked to her, if she still saw him as the horrible demon that she had previously tried to gun down, or instead as someone who was looking out for her safety. Her face softened but was still unreadable.

They dangled until the sound of Arkham's laughter had faded.

"Grab my other hand," Dante instructed, reaching down with his other hand.

Mary wordlessly grabbed it, allowing herself to be lifted up. Dante instinctively pulled her close to him, nearly into his arms, but caught himself at the last second. Thinking quickly, he placed his hands on her shoulders in a more friendly gesture. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Mary answered, looking down at the floor then up towards where her father had disappeared. It was only with great effort that she looked back at him, indignantly, letting him know that she didn't want to meet his eyes. "Thank you," she said uncomfortably, fidgeting in his grip.

"Sure thing." Dante instantly released her, and then stood, brushing off his coat. "I've saved you twice now. You owe me."

Mary scoffed, not standing immediately in favor of leaning against the wall of the new spire, wincing slightly as she dragged her bloody leg with her. When she had it stretched in front of her, she leaned her head back, releasing a pained sigh. Dante couldn't help but look at her exposed neck and delicate collarbone, upon which rested a cord with a red pendant that he hadn't noticed before. It was kind of pretty, in a simple way.

More importantly, he noticed the trail of blood that had followed her wounded leg, and the new pool that was gathering around where it rested now. Blood had dried in lines along the sides of her leg, caked at the front of the thigh and knee. The blood had even stained her socks, skirt, and blouse. She wouldn't leave the tower alive if she didn't do something about her leg.

She noticed him staring at her legs, and, assuming that he was simply checking her out, glared at him in annoyance. He shrugged, not bothering to plead his innocence, and offered as an excuse: "You should probably take care of that leg."

"Yeah, I know," Mary said, looking up at him through slitted eyes. She reached into one of the pockets of her skirt and pulled out some gauze and bottles of what looked to be rubbing alcohol and antibacterial cream. With a little effort on her part, she moved her knee closer to her chest, exposing the back of her leg. Carefully, she prodded at her thigh, wincing when she found the open wound. Then she reached for the bottle of rubbing alcohol, opening it, and began pouring it over the wound with a grimace.

Dante looked away from Mary and towards the pit that she had nearly fallen into. Suddenly, it occurred to Dante: where was Vergil? He looked around, hoping to see some sign of Vergil but unwilling to leave Mary when she was vulnerable like this. Call it twin's intuition, but he got the sense that Vergil had met the fate that Mary had almost met, falling into one of the newly made crevices. Wherever he was he could take care of himself, but Dante still felt a little concerned for his brother. He dismissed it as disappointment that he didn't get to finish him off himself.

He allowed himself to glance back at Mary, who was now she glaring at him intently, fingers stopped in the act of disinfecting her cut. What did she expect him to help? Even if he knew first aid, she probably would have shot him for going anywhere near her thigh. No thank you. Better to play it safe. Conversation would be easier.

"What?" Dante asked, his tone a little harsher than was needed, but he couldn't take it back anyway.

She scowled, lifting her chin slightly—kind of like her father did earlier, but that was something he didn't plan on mentioning—and looked back down at her thigh.

"So, Mary—"

Her eyes widened and her face froze, and she instinctively reached for her gun. "Don't call me that," she warned, her head high, the proud woman scorned. The underlying frustration broke the illusion, despite the steadiness of her gun and gaze, through a trembling lip and thick, painful swallow.

Dante frowned, leaning back and crossing his arms. "But that is your name, right?"

"It's not," she insisted, releasing the safety.

"Okay, I get it," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. She lowered her gun and continued to deal with her wound. Obviously Mary was her real name, except for the part where it wasn't. He was almost relieved, because the name Mary as awkward associated with her. It was too girly, and while she was just a girl, he felt the need to insist, it was belied her intensity. There was something about her that was older and more scarred than a name like Mary could imply. "So you really weren't kidding when you said you had no name," he added, more to himself than to her.

"What of it?" she—once again simply she, the girl—asked sharply, glancing up at him with cold eyes while her hands closed the bottle of rubbing alcohol. The wound was still bleeding, but there probably wasn't much that she could do about that until she bandaged it. Such a bad cut would definitely scar, but he didn't think that she was fixating on that, given the number of other scars on her body.

"Well, I don't know what to call you, since I can't call you Mary," he answered playfully, hoping she would lighten up a bit. He sincerely doubted it, but it was worth a shot. She was just so serious that it was almost contaminating, spreading to his essence as well. Granted, a lot had happened since he first entered Temen-ni-gru, but he definitely didn't have the same light-hearted vision of his mission that he had assumed would be the case earlier. It wasn't just ass-kicking now—it was something more, and Dante was slightly disturbed that his opinion had changed.

"You don't have to call me anything," she told him bluntly, now messily smearing antiseptic cream over her leg. She looked like she was used to doing first aid, but not necessarily good at it. Just good enough to get by. "I don't exactly plan on seeing you after this."

Harsh. He chose to ignore it. "Then what'll I call you when I remember you?" he joked, but she didn't answer, choosing instead to unwrap the gauze. Dante sighed and leaned against the wall, shutting his eyes for a moment to regain his focus. But rather than seeing comforting scenes, his mind was flooded with images of her, Vergil, her fighting Vergil, Arkham or Jester or whoever, the bayonet in her leg, all of their blood—

He only reopened his eyes when he heard her shifting around. There she was, already standing, the gauze wrapped fairly neatly around her upper thigh. A crimson splotch was already soaking through to the surface, but that didn't come as a surprise to him. Hopefully the wound would stop bleeding soon.

"And here I was about to ask if you needed any help," Dante said, smiling, hoping that his smile would prove as infectious as her severity.

"Looks like I didn't need it," she answered coolly, picking up her missile launcher and starting to walk around the new tower, looking up as if she were searching for something. He couldn't help but notice how hard she was trying to not make any conversation with him. Apparently, she only spoke when it related to her mission and duty. Very driven, goal-oriented girl. They were almost opposites.

"Are you gonna go?" he asked, walking behind her, figuring she couldn't resist answering a question like that. Anything but the stony silence she was treating him with.

"Yes," she answered, apparently having found what she was looking for because she started taking a few steps back from the Tower. She didn't even bother looking at him as she continued: "I'm going to finish him off."

Her determination was almost cute, but naïve. Did she actually think she stood a chance? "Well you might as well forget it," Dante said, walking closer to her. She didn't flinch, still glancing around the upper reaches of the tower. "'Cause you're no match for him."

"Regardless, I must go." She took a few slow steps forward still looking away from him, her voice even as she spoke. "I had a chance to stop him before, but I couldn't." Her voice dropped in volume, giving away the regret that she couldn't help but feel. "I'm responsible for all this mess."

"Responsible?" Dante asked, a little taken aback as he stepped even closer to her. She was oddly self-centered, assuming that she was the only guilty party in this entire ordeal. There were four players in this game, four motives and drives. Their individual desires had created this outcome, Arkham rising to the top like some kind of puppet master pulling the strings. Loath as he was to admit it, he felt a little responsible too, but she seemed to want to bear the brunt of the blame. "Does it bother you that much?"

"He's my father," she insisted, turning to face him for the first time in a while. Her eyes were fierce, and he felt himself missing the look of surprised gratitude she had given him when he caught her. "Besides, who else can undo what he's done?"

She stepped away from him, and Dante took a step back, a little offended that she didn't think he could do it. Oh, he could do anything he fucking wanted to do, if he put his mind to it. She was just too stubborn to trust anyone else.

She lifted her rocket launcher onto her shoulder and fired the bayonet, which shot out on a rope and embedded itself into the stone far up the wall. She gave two trial tugs to make sure it was stable before looking back at him, her face stern but forgiving. "A demon like you," she said, pausing for a fraction of a second before continuing, "wouldn't understand..."

He was still just a demon to her.

And just like that, she turned back towards the wall and released the grappling line, pulling her up with dangling legs. She zipped up the side of the tower before disappearing into the shadows. Dante was left alone in silence, shifting his weight.

"Father and family, huh?" he asked the air. He looked towards the pit that she had almost fallen into, wondering if Vergil was lying unconscious at the bottom or already climbing out. Knowing Vergil, it could be anything.

And there it was. His own sense of responsibility in this situation was informing him of his duty. What he needed to do next. Looked like her severity had beat out his smile after all. "Well I'll go too," he said, maybe to her or maybe to himself. He didn't know. There were a lot of questions he wanted answered, or maybe just needed to answer himself.

His sense of humor bit back and, for posterity, he called out to her despite the fact that she wouldn't hear it: "But you'd better hurry if you don't want me to take all the credit!"

Now satisfied, he turned away to continue on his new mission: to stop Arkham from opening up Hell and taking his father's power. Maybe kick some demon ass along the way—scratch that: he definitely planned on kicking some demon ass along the way. But his vision was flooded with a heart-shaped face; lips twisted into a frustrated, pouty snarl; and wide, angry eyes that had seen more than most humans would ever seen, and whose battle-scared gaze contradicted the inexperience of the girl who wore it.