Author's note: Away we go to the second chapter! Hang on to your seats 'cause it's gonna get rocky.


Chapter 2

Nero sped to where the strange scientist's Agnus' lab had been. Someone there must know how to find out what was wrong with Kyrie. Agnus had been obsessive about his Devil Bringer and kept meticulous notes on it. Nero had seen the psycho scrawling in his notepad. There must be something left over for Nero to see. There had to be.

Rumors had spread about Fortuna castle after Nero's time here and it became a tourist attraction of sorts. It was considered sacred ground, from what Kyrie had told him from hearing townsfolk gossiping. People were continually coming and going. When the entrance came into view for Nero, he saw nobody. That is, nobody civilian except for a formidable looking guard at the entrance doors. Probably hired to shoo away onlookers.

Nero's arm sling which he had earlier pocketed was pulled out and he slid it over his demonic arm before approaching the guard taking watch.

"Hi," Nero greeted cordially.

"This area is off limits," came the automated reply the guy must have said to many people. "Leave now."

"I'm not visiting. I have business inside. May I enter?" With a diplomatic smile, Nero thought it added authenticity to his request.

"No loitering," the guard sharply warned.

"If I go inside, I'm not loitering," Nero replied in his business voice. He received a pointing finger aimed at the way he came.

The man appeared strong and resilient to mow any intruders down, especially wearing such a crisp and official uniform.

...until Nero produced Red Queen and gave some sharp bladed persuasion to his gullet, Nero's professional act done. The man's mouth, so rigid and firmly shut mere seconds ago, now kept opening and closing, timid insults coming out more for effect than scares. Nero made his real request: entrance into Agnus' old lab. Impatiently, he patted the guard's cheek with the flat of his blade, prompting his new friend to speed-babble something about information storage.

"So where did Agnus store those informative notes of his, huh?" Nero lightly tapped the sharpened blade on the guard's face once more.

"Those notes are gone," the trembling man answered. "It's too bad because he did have very admirable writing. B-but Agnus did refer to another source which held information. He wouldn't write about it. That's what I heard, anyway! Maybe he did, but like I said, the notes have been destroyed. I-I mean, they're taken away but likely destroyed."

Nero couldn't understand half of what the guy yammered about but he did hear a coherent confession about knowledge of the Savior. "What are you going on about? What's this source?"

"The specialist I just said. That's the source."

"Where is he?" Nero probed, pushing slightly the blade edge of Red Queen under the nervous guard's chin. "This person who is supposed to have infinite wisdom about the Savior."

A loud gulp bobbed down the guard's throat. "Y-you mean the homunculus?"

Was this guy babbling again? Nero kept his offensive advantage and kept his blade against the guard's noticeably sweaty throat. "Yeah, that's right. Does it have a name?"

"No. I-I haven't spoken to him personally. Or it. Maybe it's a-a she." The guard raised his shaky fingers to point at the sharp sword. "Can you put that down? I can't breathe properly."

Nero smirked. "Well, then, tell me where I can locate this information booth and you can have all the air you want."

"I need to give you the key. T-there's a key, you see. For access. So if you would just..." The guard gestured emphatically again at Nero's weapon.

The Red Queen eased from his neck, but remained held at the ready. "Enlighten me."

The guard shakily patted his pants pockets and stuck his hands inside a back pocket. He withdrew a flat metallic block the size of a business card. It resembled a technologically advanced card with encryption and the like, but when Nero flipped it over the back was blank. The only design on it was a circular inlay with an intricate branched design. He made out the Order's emblem.

"Prick your thumb and press your blood on the mark." The guard stood taller, at ease since his esophagus wasn't in peril of being sliced.

"Why not you?" Nero didn't enjoy the prospect of bloodletting for any reason.

"Only the person who wishes to see the source needs to use blood."

Warily, Nero did as instructed, nicking his thumb with Red Queen. He eyed the drops of blood staining his skin, then the device. If he unleashed some hell beast or caused the world to implode, he was screwed. Still, what other leads did he have? He needed the knowledge and running around blindly was dumb and a major waste of time. He smeared his dark blood on the inlay. The crimson liquid absorbed into the engraved lines.

Nero looked around and saw his surroundings fill with a dreamlike cloudiness. He hastily removed the sling off his shoulder and stuffed it in his coat pocket. Here was the situation where his Devil Bringer would not be regarded as a freak show.

When everything around him was eaten up by white, he held out a hand to make sure his appendages were still attached to himself. No fingers were floating away. Yep. That was a good sign.

But where the hell was he?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You worried?" Dante studied Nero's main squeeze who had regained enough energy to sit up in the cot she lay on. He occupied a chair beside her bed.

Kyrie didn't reply. She didn't have to. The uneasiness in her dark eyes was proof enough.

"The ki- Nero will come back." Dante patted her shoulder in assurance. For once when doing this to a woman, the gesture was not a come-on.

"Do you see my kind of problem in your line of work? Demons can be mysterious." Dante had informed her of his demon hunting business and Kyrie seemed curious.

"Not too often. Whenever I have, I've dealt with it. With help, usually. It's funner that way."

"You have help? Is it a family business?"

Dante almost laughed outrageously at the absurdness of her idea, but then remembered she knew virtually nothing about his occupation. "No. I have partners."

"Not family, that's too bad." Kyrie dropped her vision to her lap at her folded hands. She offhandedly chuckled as though recalling a memory. "When I was very small I used to sit in the sermons to honor Sparda- I mean, your father." She blushed shyly. Accustoming meeting a real descendant of a regaled demon who had died so many centuries ago was not an instantaneous process. "I didn't understand many of the things His Holiness said. When I grew bored I tried to see if any other children around me were, too. I'd catch at least one."

"Good eye." Dante grinned. "What about Nero? Did he love sitting in those pews as much as you?" The owner of the Devil Bringer didn't seem to be the religious type, though Dante could be off about that.

Kyrie shook her head with a wry smile. "If I thought I was bored stiff, he was far gone before the priest finished uttering his first verse."

The son of Sparda looked coyly at Fortuna's songstress. "Did you sing him awake?"

The woman pinkened. "No, no. He woke on his own. Most of the time. I remember asking my brother Credo after a particularly long sermon that I wanted to make lemonade for everyone who came out of congressionals awake. They deserved lemonade after being inside for so long. I thought of plans. Next sermon I'd set up a table right outside and as soon as the congressional was finished, I'd race out so I wouldn't miss anyone leaving."

A reversed thumb pointed to his chest was Dante's answer. "I'd want snacks with the lemonade if I were part of that audience."

Kyrie smiled at the concept of a son becoming bored with listening to others praise his father. She didn't have parents to be annoyed over, Dante presumed.

"Credo, learning to be a proper man as best he could for the Order just patted my head and walked off when I told him my suggestion. That was it. I always wondered if he thought I was foolish for thinking this way." She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shuddered and Dante understood she was crying.

"What's the matter?" Dante queried softly, already having a pretty good notion. Random outbursts of hysterics from women Dante was unfamiliar with. But Kyrie wasn't any lady. In the final fight between the Savior and Nero, both Dante and Kyrie were watching Nero's triumphant victory unfold. Dante had glanced at the woman whose name was the only thing he knew about her. Her passionate eyes were trained on Nero and simply him. Not on the gigantic stone edifice that was the Savior, not the flying shards of rubble that kicked up from the fight. Even with all the crashing and tremors the hulking Savior caused, Kyrie didn't stray her gaze from an important person.

Kyrie sniffled and moved her hands off her face. Her tear-stained cheeks were flushed. "Credo. I miss him. I won't be able to find out anything about him anymore."

Dante could relate. When Vergil sunk into the bottomless abyss of blackness at the tower of Temen-ni-gru, Dante's chest felt like a gaping hole had been drilled in it. Why wouldn't it? He had saw his brother willfully leap to his destruction and Dante couldn't pull him back up. There were low moods when that moment would play over and over in his mind, like a bad rerun on a dysfunctional TV set.

Years had passed since that incident, and though seasoned by experiences and new people entering his life, Dante never let himself forget about his departed older brother. Dante's cut leather glove from their last fight remained with him to this day.

"Did he..." Kyrie spoke again, distracting Dante from his moodier thoughts. She paused to take a breath. "Was Credo in pain when he passed away?"

The question was unexpected. But then, she hadn't been around when her brother had been unmercifully stabbed by Sanctus. What a bastard.

Dante could lie, create some fabrication to sugarcoat the truth, but that seemed rude to the one who pleaded with him to care for her and Nero. Disrespecting a dying man's wish was something Dante absolutely would not do.

He kept his tone firm, yet empathetic. "Yes. But he endured to the very end. He loved you. That was undeniably clear."

Kyrie, though crying, nodded gratefully. She looked at peace.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you lost?" an inquiring voice sounded from behind Nero. The voice was void of emotion.

He spun around and pointed his Blue Rose at the direction of the voice. An androgynous figure seated itself on the arm of a plush, high-backed Victorian chair. That it seemed like a woman was Nero's assumption. The person had none of the fitting endowments a woman ought to possess, nor neither a man's. From the somewhat feminine tone of her question, Nero wanted to assume the figure was female. Besides, it was simpler to refer to her as one. She didn't wear any clothes, but naked, there was nothing for Nero to peep at. There was no genitalia, just a haze in those parts. She was flat-chested. By chest, the word was literal. What appeared like a polished cherry wood veneer cover was part of her body. It came complete with an enticing chrome keyhole at the base. She had curly ebony fringes and the rest of her shoulder length mane was wavy. The thick strands of hair, its color so dark, appeared to suck in the light from around them.

Nero lowered his gun halfway. "I need information."

She appraised Nero for a long while, studying him intently. Her emotionless eyes, wavering like liquid took in his sword held at his side. She patted the empty seat. "A visitor. Do sit down." The low and deliberately monotone voice held as much emotion as a cactus.

"No, thanks."

"If you don't sit, how can I share what I know?" She tugged a lock of what passed as hair for her.

Nero grimaced, holstering Blue Rose. Getting on her good side was going to get answers? He stiffly stepped to the chair and sat, his Red Queen laid across his lap. "You don't mind an extra guest, do you?" he asked rebelliously, tapping the flat metal.

"You won't need your weapon." She traced a gossamer finger down his temple.

Her trail stung like hot needles. Nero bit his lip to keep from revolting. His altered arm shone briefly in his stead. He had to get the information no matter what. Ticking her off would lose his chance. He had to bear the pain. Nero forced his eyes to meet hers. They were bottomless shimmering pools, hypnotizing because of their lush depths. Any man would fall into their allure at first glance. Nero could feel their pull. Kyrie's eyes were not trance-like orbs of eternal beauty, but they were always animated. They drew him in whenever she paid full attention to his words. This homunculus, though it had the most incredible eyes Nero had ever encountered, without any indication of feelings its eyes were hollow and eerie.

"Why won't I need it?" he asked through gritted teeth as he prayed for the throbbing to subside.

"You're much tolerable than my last guest. Have you ever spoke with anyone with a horn as its mouth? Obscene, the noise he made." Even in her negativity her tone remained void of life.

"Can't say I have. I'm here for your... advice." He explained Kyrie's attack and what she and him had been through when the Savior was around.

"The Savior is tenacious." This sounded like a compliment despite no fond inflection in her answer.

"The Savior is still around?!" Nero gasped. In his last fight with the mammoth, Nero felt his enemy pulverize under the compression of his Devil Bringer's fist. There was no way the Savior or Sanctus could survive.

The being shook her head. "Oh no, not the supreme being itself. Fragments. Wisps, you could say. They have been infused in her system."

"I was about to be merged with the Savior too. I went through the same thing she did. Why aren't I going through anything?" Nero could barely keep his anger in check. His death grip on the handle of Red Queen turned his human knuckles white. Of course he didn't wish any illness upon himself, but more for Kyrie did he not want harm inflicted.

"You're fine because you have demon blood. Your body could fight off the invasion of these remnants of the Savior." For the first time since their meeting, her face revealed the tiniest shift of emotion. Pleasure with her assessment.

"I thought you were on the Savior's side."

"I am not on any side. I am a resource. I am a resource for the Order. I am fascinated by anyone who could fight off the Savior from within. Not an easy task. May I get your name so I can store it?" She tapped her boxed chest.

"How can she be healed?" Nero asked, evading her request. He was jittery enough to leap up from the chair to shake the answer out of her.

She mechanically titled her head to the side. "I need to retrieve this answer." A silver key materialized from the air and her fingers grasped it. She slid the key into her golden chest lock and turned. The cover slid open and she reached inside a vortex of swirling colors. She took her hand out, pulling out a glow of light which didn't seem significant to Nero. It wasn't exactly a Rolodex.

But apparently it meant something to her, for she smiled when she looked at it. She seemed to read whatever lay in her palm and nodded in comprehension. She closed her palm and the glowing ball dissipated.

"Well?" Nero demanded impatiently.

The homunculus' undulating eyes, so dead and listless before, were aglow with anticipation. The smile that split her face was chillingly alarming. Nero felt his stomach plummet, more for the fact she was reacting than her expression.

"She must be killed."