Disappearing people were one of the most common reasons for their missions. Desperate family members or friends calling Devil May Cry, seeking for help when the police failed to find their missing loved ones that were supposedly abducted or brainwashed by evil spirits. Those were usually the missions Nero went on alone since Dante refused to take them, claiming it didn't pay enough to make it worth his time. And really, 8 out of 10 of those missions were everything except of demonic origin. Most clients just had crappy family dynamics or unfathomable living conditions, making him think that the missing person simply up and left it all behind. Hell, he'd even helped some on their way, bringing them to another town on the bike he borrowed from Dante to get around, dropping them off somewhere where they would continue their journey on their own. He might come back empty handed, but he'd still feel good in the long run. Mostly because he could fucking relate.
Missions that looked more promising loan wise usually started with stumbling over lots and lots of dead bodies. Representatives of smaller communes, a worried collective of neighbors, sometimes even mayors of small villages or towns called to report several people missing over the last few months or even years. By then it's usually too late to hope for any survivors, but eliminating the threat and, if they were lucky, recovering the bodies paid the bills. Rural areas were a more common hunting ground for demons and the likes than big, overpopulated cities, which meant it ended in a daytrip most of the time.
It's rare to get confronted with a mess as big as Fortuna had been, but it obviously happens. Those and similar missions were usually dragged in by Lady; the petite woman with short, black hair, two different colored eyes behind dark shades and a fable for shooting Dante in the head. The first time it'd happened, Nero really hadn't known what to do as he'd stared in shock as Dante had tumbled backwards to the ground, along with his chair he'd been lounging on. He'd been about rip the woman's throat out with a snarl, but Dante had been able to defuse the situation just in time.
Anyway, those missions required a certain amount of preparation, depending on how many info's they'd been provided with. Together with Dante they could handle most of them easily, even competing against each other who'd kill the most demons, who'd find the big bad boss demon first and who'd throw the killing punch.
But everything depended on the kind of demon they would be facing. There were demons whose only power lay in their body mass or pure, unrestricted strength. So as long as you didn't stand around like an idiot or let yourself get caught, they were easy to deal with. The most dangerous threats were those who had the power to influence your mind or emotions. Even the demon blood running through their veins couldn't protect the susceptible part that made them human. The part that made you feel joy, love, compassion and pleasure but also let you fear, hate and doubt yourself. The weaker link when it comes to battle, the strongest power when it comes to living. So they had to watch each other's back against demons of that kind, snapping the other out of their trickery.
Not knowing what kind of demon they're facing can therefore get pretty dangerous pretty fast.
Nero's gut was telling him exactly that right now. He was in deep shit. Earlier that morning Lady came in with a new mission for them, urging them on to do their fucking job and left with only an address and 'DANGEROUS' scribbled on an otherwise pristine piece of paper on their table. So they'd decided to go together since sometimes Lady's right about the dangerous part. Still, they underestimated the threat greatly.
When they'd arrived at a seemingly deserted ruin of what probably once had been a pompous mansion, they'd joked about all the clichés the demon fulfilled in one go. They'd barged right through the main entrance, kicking the large double doors from their hinges as they'd entered. There'd been nothing but old, half-rotten furniture and huge patches of mold on moist walls that'd burned in his nose. The high humidity combined with stale air had made it hard to breathe in the first place. All in all, his mood had grown more and more sour with every second they had to search through the mansion. He'd made a snarky comment about demons and their shitty taste in decoration when with a blink of an eye he'd found himself in a completely different room.
But not any room. It was his room. Back in Fortuna, just like he'd left it. Logically, he knew that he couldn't have traveled hundreds of miles from one moment to the other. Still, he marveled at how real it looked when he himself couldn't even picture every tiny detail from memory. Other than that, he felt…. nothing out of the ordinary, really. He even had his weapons still with him.
The thick air from the ramshackle mansion had lifted; now he could only smell what's distinctively the aroma of his own room and even a hint of salty seawater. Slowly circling around himself, looking for any flaw in the otherwise perfect projection, he tried to figure out what exactly the plan behind all this was. Probably nothing good, but he felt ok for now. Not knowing what else to do, he slowly moved to his former bedroom's door, gingerly stretching his right hand out and placing it onto the handle. He wondered what lay behind that door. Would he see Kyries sad eyes again like on the day he had left? Would he have to fight some of the more self-righteous citizens like he had been forced to when all he'd wanted was to catch the ferry in time?
The metal felt solid and cold against his skin as he pushed the door open. The sunlight coming from the small window to his right illuminated his former - small but sufficient-for-one - lounge, painting it in a friendly yellow. A mop of red-brown hair looked up from behind the back of his worn-out sofa, moving ever so slightly with whatever the person was doing that Nero couldn't see from his point of view. He slowly moved forwards, rounding the dark blue sofa, dreading what he might see. He knew exactly who that person was, picturing them with bloodied eyes, carved out intestines while whispering vile words. What he got instead was the curious look of no other than his step-sister, Kyrie, working on stitching together one of his perforated jeans.
"Really, Nero, I should teach you how to do this yourself, so I don't have to come here every other day. You would be running around naked if it weren't for me", she giggled cutely at her own joke, continuing on threading the needle carefully through the thick cloth so she wouldn't accidentally prick herself.
The younger slayer's heart hurt as he watched Kyrie continue salvaging his clothes like she'd used to. He hadn't earned much back then, definitely not enough to buy new clothes all the time. The sight just made him yearn to see her again, made him realize how much he really missed the company of the petite girl. Swallowing thickly, he didn't answer and instead averted his gaze. Hoping that it wouldn't bite him in the ass to turn his back on her, still counting that something terrible was about to happen, he walked to the front door without a word.
"Nero, are you alright…?", sounded the soft voice, confusion clearly laced in it.
He clenched his teeth, reciting that this wasn't real over and over in his head like a mantra. He rushed out the door and flew down the steps until he reached the bottom and stormed out onto still familiar streets of Fortuna. Melancholy hit him hard this time. This has been his home once, even though it hadn't always felt that way. A sharp pain in the center of his chest made him jump in surprise, his hand coming up to touch the spot. But as sudden as it came, as quick did it go. Rubbing the spot though his jacket, he furrowed his brows in confusion. He had to find a way out of here.
Ignoring the people who were all around enjoying the warm weather under a clear, blue sky, he decided the best way to see where or when he was would be checking out the state of the city. When he'd left, some parts were still being rebuilt, others that'd been damaged beyond repair were completely demolished before build on again. So it shouldn't be hard for him to spot some residual trace of destruction, especially the further he went east. He followed the main road until he took a turn to the left, passing by the small jewelry shop where he'd bought Kyries necklace, past the handmade noodles restaurant where he'd sometimes went for lunch. Passersby also weren't completely oblivious of him. Some straight out smiled at him or greeted him; faces he'd never seen before suddenly knew his name. And this time not to throw profanities at him even though his Devil Bringer was out in the open for everyone to see. He ignored them and the urge to hide his arm behind his back as best as he could, trying not to fall for any tricks.
Nero couldn't spot a single crack on the pristine, pastel-colored plaster of the facades surrounding him. When he turned another corner to the right through a long archway, he followed the narrow, cobbled walkway, around a fountain with sparkling water spouting from the highest point, until he climbed steps up to the grand opera house where he had his first encounter with the other devil slayer. Throwing open the heavy wooden double doors with ease, he walked past the dozens of pews deeper into the grand hall. The statue of Sparda stood as pretentious as ever in its spot, not a single crack where he'd impaled Sparda's son to with his own sword. As he stood before the overtowering piece of marble, colored in specks of colored light from the mosaic windows above, he wondered if it all had even happened here.
"Nero.", came a low, authoritative rumble from somewhere behind him, echoing of the bare walls. Hackles rising instantly, he swirled around to see no other than traitorous fucking Credo standing at the entrance, looking like the Supreme General he was supposed to be, having the audacity to act like nothing happened!
"Kyrie told me you were acting strange. Is everything alright?", he asked in his usual no-nonsense tone as he walked towards the ex-knight. "Is your devil side acting up?" He voiced the question as if they'd talked about his demon blood over dinner.
"Don't come any closer!", Nero growled, readying himself for a fight. He spread his claws of his Devil Bringer in a menacing way, making clear that he wasn't playing around.
"What is going on here?!"
"What are you talking about?", his former mentor asked incredulously, but stopped nonetheless.
He felt another stab in the center of his chest, this time a thousand times more painful than the last time. Crying out in pain, he fell down onto his knees, clawing at his chest with his one arm while the other kept him barely from collapsing onto the pristine marble floor. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to work through the agony. He could hear nothing other than his own screams as the white, hot pain just wouldn't stop! He could feel his right arm pulse in response, the power of his devil side threatening to overpower him and forcing him to trigger, to protect himself from whatever was hurting him. Just as he thought he couldn't hold on anymore, the pain subsided, leaving behind a shrill ringing in his ears. He tried to regain his breath, small gasp escaping his mouth as he slowly opened his eyes again. He felt gloved hands on his cheeks, the material cold against his flushed face. His vision was still blurry but as his head was slowly lifted, he could barely make out the worried expression of Credo. His first thought was that it looked surprisingly out of character for the usually stoic man. Gradually leaning back and out of reach, the younger slayer calmed himself down enough to stand back straight up again. His legs wobbled dangerously under his weight for a moment but soon found their strength back.
A strong hand grabbed him on his right wrist and suddenly his arm was swung around the other man's shoulder.
"You're sometimes worse than I am, with your pride standing in your way.", Credo grumbled as he started to lead Nero out of the opera house, his other arm laid securely around the ex-knights back.
"What is wrong with you…" Nero mumbled weakly, following his mentor for now, still trying to recover from his previous attack.
"What is wrong with you, boy. I've never seen you like this! I'll bring you to our infirmary. Are you sure it doesn't have something to do with the arm of yours?"
"Why would you even care? Since when would you accept something like my other half, other than your own, deluded believes!"
"I really do not know what is up with you today, so I will reproach you later for the way you're talking to me.", Nero could almost feel as Credo crunched his teeth. "But we're not having another discussion about your self-doubt again. It would be a bit hypocritical, would it not, for us to glorify the demon Sparda who fought his own kin for humanity, but condemn you when you use your strength to protect others?", he took a quick look at the younger slayer before continuing. "We accept you. We all do. A lot of people even think of you as a sign of Sparda himself, but don't let that get into your head, you understand?"
Nero was speechless. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought of a scenario like this. He kept staring at the other knight, looking for any insincerity there, but in the stern mask of Credo's face he found none. He knew that he couldn't really trust the man that had betrayed him once before. The wound that had been left behind still cut deep. But for a moment - for a split second - he wished that this was how it really went. For The Order of the holy Knighthood to follow their views like they were supposed to and not turn into a supervillain posse. And in the end, this was what he'd always hoped for. To not be the weird, unwanted orphan, and later the monster with the cursed arm. An abomination.
The next wave that surged through him kicked the breath right out of his lungs. He collapsed in an instant, not even having time for Credo to stop him from falling. He lay flat on his back as his whole body hurt like he's being burned alive. His mouth was wide open as he screamed his lungs out but he couldn't hear a sound, the blood rushing through his ears like a river after a typhoon. He began to thrash out, trying to hit something that wasn't there, just to make it stop! Make it stop!
At the back of his mind he felt his trigger unravel, felt his consciousness being pushed further and further down. He welcomed the darkness, the complete numbness that surrounded him, consumed him. Time seemed to stand still as he floated, nothing seemed to matter anymore.
What felt like an eternity later, he heard a muffled voice that sounded vaguely familiar. He tried to concentrate on the low rumble, tried to chase it to its roots. When he heard it again he could barely distinguish Dante's low, rumbling voice. Listening closely, everything came suddenly back in a rush.
"Submit!"
Nero gasped as he felt his own body go from too tense to completely pliant in mere milliseconds, a clawed hand squeezing the back of his neck tightly. Eyes wide, his head pressed on his side to the cold floor, the first thing he came to recognize was what looked like a huge pile of dried out human bodies in a corner, their skin various shades from brown to black, depending on their decaying process. He also felt a heavy weight pressing him down hard against the ground, the stench of blood making his eyes water slightly. He tried to pry his hands free from behind his back, but the iron grip holding them in place and the one in his neck only gripping tighter, a deep growl warning him to try anything. He gasped and whimpered quietly at that, squeezing his eyes back shut, not moving one muscle.
Suddenly the weight lifted and he was roughly rolled on his back. Opening his eyes again, he saw Dante leaned over him, eyes a dangerous crimson color and growling deeply, showing how close the elder was to triggering himself. His hands were now pinned above his head, held down in the same vice grip as before.
"Dante….?" The younger slayer croaked, his voice rough from overuse.
The relieve was evident in Dante's posture as he deflated visibly. Closing his eyes before reopening them showed Nero the well-known icy color back in its place.
"God damnit, kid. You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"That's what makes you old, old man…", he countered flatly, surprising himself with it.
Dante stared down at him for a few seconds before laughing with all his might, leaning his forehead down against Nero's shoulder while his whole body rocketed with laughter. He released the younger slayers hands as he tried to regain his control, straightening back up with a smirk on his face which made him look a few years younger.
Nero would've enjoyed making the more experienced hunter laugh so wholeheartedly, wouldn't it be for the cold sensation of fresh blood all over his body. He gingerly touched the center of his chest with his human hand, finding a huge hole ripped through his clothes, flinching when his fingers brushed a tender wound. He slowly propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at himself, trying to distinguish what from the crimson color was actually his flesh and what not. There was a huge crater gaping in his chest, fitting almost his whole fist. And it hurt like a bitch.
"Fuck, what happened?!", he asked incredulously as he looked back up to Dante who was now crouching beside him. He wondered how he was even still alive with a wound like this.
"You tell me, kid. One moment you were there, and when i looked away for a second you were gone! I had to chop down this blood-leeching tree thing all by myself because you had to play livestock blood pack up there.", he recounted and pointed upwards. He tried to see what Dante meant by it which, as it turned out, wasn't the best idea when you suffered from severe blood loss. His world tilted and he felt himself fall onto his back, his head colliding painfully with the concrete below him. The last image he saw before consciousness slipped away was Dante's worried face close to his.
Then everything went black.
—
Consciousness slowly crept up on him. His body felt heavy as lead, his eyelids even more so. So instead of trying to move, he concentrated on the sounds around him. At first there was nothing more than static. The rushing sound that drowned everything else out. But just like before, he could gradually distinguish the low rumble of voices. Who they belonged to he didn't know, but there was no urge to them. He took in a deep breath and regretted it instantly. The soaring pain was back again, this time only coming from the center of his chest. He felt himself groan in pain, the grumbling sound pressing out of his throat but without actually hearing it. Slowly, he could feel the rest of his body again. His outer appendages, like his feet and hands, tingling like they'd fallen asleep. The air around him felt cold, his upper body bare save for what was wrapped around his middle and upper body, pressing uncomfortably against the source of his despair. He blindly lifted his right hand to feel around his chest, but slender fingers curling around his wrist kept him from touching. The muffled voices acted up again, becoming clearer and clearer by the second. Nero tried again to lift his heavy eyelids, concentrating all of what's left of his strength to see.
Bright light blinded him the first few blinks as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. A brown blotch on a cream-colored background slowly but steadily became more and more clear as he focused. It was a fan, securely managed to a ceiling. But not any ceiling from what he believed. He thought he might be back home at the office, back at Devil May Cry. Blonde hair and a well proportioned face appeared suddenly in front of him. He blinked a few times as he stared up at Trish, watching her move her mouth but couldn't really make out what she was saying. She didn't look worried though, her soft smile turning smug when she looked up to whoever she was talking to his left while she stood to his right. He must be laying on the large wooden table in the center of the room, if he wasn't mistaken. The rushing sound from his ears was beginning to ebb away, leaving him to understand more of their conversation over him.
„You know that he could've actually died back there, right? It wasn't only blood that demon was after. That's why it's taking him so long to heal."
„Well that info would've been helpful before we took the mission. ‚Dangerous' didn't really cut it. A pencil can be dangerous if used right.", came the low, annoyed rumble from Dante, probably sitting in his chair close by. He carefully rolled his head to the side, following the sound of the older man's voice. Every muscle hurt so goddamn much; he felt like he'd been run over by a truck. And even that he would've probably withstood better than this. Was he the only one hurt, or did the demon take his toll on Dante too, he worried.
Icy blue orbs looked at him, but his usual playful expression was contorted to a hard mask. Only a barely there smile played on his lips as the older man saw him watching.
„If you two could stop being the idiots that you are and take a mission with dozens of missing people serious for once, maybe something like this wouldn't happen. Nice influence you are on him, Dante." Lady retorted from somewhere else, but he couldn't quite locate where her voice was coming from. She must have moved since it came from another direction this time.
„You're lucky that I check on you two after missions like that. I doubt you could've held him down and patched him up before he'd bled out."
„His devil side took over to hold onto life, though I'm surprised he didn't listen to your demon when you tried to calm him down earlier…" Trish mumbled in thought.
„It did the first time, that way I at least was able to roughly patch the kid up before making sure that that demon really was dead and hadn't another poor guy hooked to its system." Dante looked up only briefly before turning his attention back to Nero. „How are you holding up, kid? We're just done here, so I'll bring you up to your room shortly for you to rest."
The younger slayer sighed in relief. He felt sleep trying to flood his mind again, fatigue taking over. „S'fine." he managed to rumble, his throat feeling like he'd swallowed dry sand, eyes falling back shut without his permission. Strong arms came around his back and under his knees as he's being picked up, hissing as it stretched his tender wound painfully.
„Why would Nero's demon calm down just because Dante wanted it to?" Lady asked confused.
„We should take our leave now, babe." Trish answered instead. „Let us know when you need any help, Dante." Her trademark high heels thudding dully against the wooden floor as she took her leave with Lady soon following. He heard Lady continue to try prying answers from her girlfriend as they disappeared through the main entrance, the door closing with a soft thud behind them.
The strong chest he was pressed against held a grounding warmth, making him unconsciously press closer to it as he felt them ascend.
„Sleep, kid. Tomorrow will be better."
And so he did.