Easter present!
VI
Dream...
Vergil found himself coughing and gasping. He couldn't breathe and couldn't find the strength to move much. He was lying on his stomach on cold stone. There was something dripping somewhere and his face was in a puddle.
A groan came from his lips as he pushed himself upward. His hair fell around his face and he saw the white locks stained with blood. His vision swam, flitting between red and black. He still couldn't catch his breath and the pain was increasing with each muscle movement.
He managed to raise himself enough to look into the puddle below him. The reflection made him stop. Something big had hit him. A trickle of blood came from his temple and the corner of his mouth; barely healing cuts were everywhere; and fatigue raged heavily on his features. However, this wasn't what caught the greater part of his attention.
The same eyes and face but everything else was different. His hair was down, he was wearing red and black clothing, and there was a pistol in each hand. An amulet fell from the neck of his shirt. A silver amulet.
Dante!
Another's reflection appeared in the water. A shadow that laughed softly and darkly. A sword was drawn slowly. He whipped his head around in time to see it plunged deep into his back.
End dream...
Every sense screamed danger. He grabbed Yamato's hilt and drew it swiftly, turning to attack the one behind him. A gloved hand grabbed Yamato's blade, stopping the attack and letting blood run down the demon steel.
"Vergil?"
His eyes began to focus on the face of his father. He was in the library again, twisted in the chair now that he had awakened, with an almost panicked appearance.
Sparda lowered the sword, the tip of his sleeve slowly being stained by his blood. He looked surprised and worried. He didn't say anything but studied his son's face and tense muscles.
Slowly, Vergil succeeded in relaxing and looked down, "My apologies, father."
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
"I am fine." He let the tip of his katana touch the floor, not bothering to clean it.
This worried his devil father as he took the sword from him and cleaned his blood off of it with a cloth, "I doubt that. You have not been yourself since our training yesterday. You did not even show up today. You never miss training. And you never allow Yamato's blade to stain."
He looked away from him, leaning on the table with his elbows.
"Vergil." He could hear the worry in his voice, "Tell me what is wrong."
"It's nothing father...I'd rather study today instead of training."
He heard his mother's gasp this time and covered his eyes with his hand. She entered the room, "Something must be wrong if you want to miss training."
"Nothing, mother. I'm fine. Just...tired."
He could tell they were both concerned. Sparda put his hand on his shoulder, "Something has been troubling you. Why won't you tell us?"
He turned his head a little and sighed, "I need time to figure it out."
"All right," Eva said quickly, "Take as much time as you need. Just remember we're here when you need us."
A breath of relief left him, "Thank you, mother."
She came up behind him and hugged him, "Anytime." She pulled Sparda from the room and he was left alone.
Vergil looked down at the amulet. He held it and studied the red gem in it's center, Dante looked my age in my dream...Could it be that he is alive? That he survived the fire?...If that's true, then where has he been all these years?...Why hasn't he found us again? And why didn't father find him when he searched...I know I didn't sense him then. He was gone...
He picked up Yamato and sheathed it. The bond between nestlings was like a sixth sense, always present and so natural that no focus was required in order for it to work.
If it was always present, then why was it flaring only now? Was it because Dante was close? Because he's in danger? Or, perhaps, did Vergil just fool himself for years in thinking he no longer possessed it? That it was actually active when he thought it wasn't.
"I need a way to see if Dante's alive for sure," he muttered, hand still on Yamato's hilt. He ran his fingers along the checker design for a moment before turning around, "Rebellion was Dante's sword. Maybe it can help."
He left the library and journeyed to his father's study. Although all the other devil arms were placed in a warded armoury beneath the mansion, Rebellion was always found in Sparda's study. It would be easier to reach and the Dark Knight could feel like his lost nestling was close.
Vergil reached and immediately sensed his father inside. He let out a soft sigh and pushed the door open. He figured he might not get out of explaining with this one. Only the grace of motherly instinct had saved him before and Eva wasn't around.
Sparda turned in his chair to look at him. The concern was still there but he didn't seem to want to press it, "Did you need something, son?"
His eyes shifted to the sword that leaned against a bookshelf next to his father, "I need to borrow Rebellion."
He blinked, confused, "...You may if you need it."
"Thank you." He walked forward and reached out to touch the hilt. However, he couldn't. Something held him back as his hand couldn't reach out to even graze the hilt of the broadsword.
His mind raced with images and guilt. Of the good times playing with Dante in the forest, or building pillowforts in one of the spare rooms; and of the night of the fire, where his slow movements had cost his younger sibling dearly.
A hand touched his arm and he gasped. Sparda had risen and looked at his nestling softly through his monocle, "You've been thinking of Dante lately, haven't you?"
He looked down with a soft sigh, somehow unable to meet his father's gaze.
Sparda let out a sigh of his own, "Your mother has as well and, truthfully, he has occupied my thoughts too. It is almost the same time of the year."
He lowered his hand, sensing both swords questioning Vergil's actions. It was as if they were wondering why he dwelled in the past. Why he couldn't let Dante go.
Sparda spoke in the demonic tongue to get his attention, Elder nestling, let go of the lost nestmate. He is gone and unable to be revived.
He hung his head with a breath, Cannot let go...
Explain. May miss but should not hold on. Nestmate would not want that.
His next part was whispered, My fault...
This surprised Sparda, What does nestling mean? Was not elder's fault. Was sire's enemy's fault.
He would never understand how it had happened or how he had lost himself so completely and suddenly. Perhaps it was his father's intervention or the shock of regaining a lost sense, but he confessed his darkest secret, Elder was too weak to survive! Nestmate gave life for my survival!
Derelict City Blocks
Dante had taken to the back streets when he awoke. He didn't want to be seen and couldn't allow Kalina and Lady to be involved. They had been caught in the middle of devil business once, they didn't need to be in it again.
It was the middle of the day and there wasn't many people around. Still, he didn't take any chances and walked only in shadows or under the cover of something. It was hard, but he quickly made it to a storage complex. It was large but organized. Dante hopped over the fence at the back and slipped in. He could have gone through the front but there was a booth there with someone watching the news. He could be called reckless but he wasn't that stupid.
He pulled out the key and looked at the number: D39. He looked at the black numbers printed above the doors on the storage units. He was in the As. Pocketing the key, he jogged off to find the Ds.
He didn't particularily like the idea of looking through Arkham's books but, if there was any information on the Old Religion, it would be in his archives. He remember when he first met the man. Instantly, he didn't like him but he was Lady's father and Lady was the first friend he had made since the fire. He decided to be nice then. Weird things happened then. He started saying things and refering to things that only a devil (or a son of a devil) would know. The natural dislike grew in him up to the night he ran to save Lady and her mother, hearing their screams and sensing demon powers.
He stopped in front of the storage unit that belonged to Arkham. He reached forward to lift the door up. As his hand came in contact with the handle, it burned and sparked. Growling, he jumped back.
Wards. Surprisingly good ones but nothing that would kill.
Huh, he thought rubbing his wrist, well, he did make that ritual...
Using his senses, he searched for the weak point of the wards. Some things of his father's lessons did stay with him. He smiled as he saw it and raised his guns. There was a black symbol painted in the corner of the building. No one would be able to see it unless they were looking for it. He aimed and fired two shots, destroying part of the symbol.
With a smirk, he holstered the guns and opened the door. The inside was dusty and cramped. Old books were everywhere. He coughed as he entered and looked around.
Where the hell do I begin? he thought, scratching his head.
All the books looked the same. He picked up one and opened it. Demon writing. He could only pick up a word or two. Nothing that would hint at the old religion however.
He sighed as he looked over the books, This is going to take a while.
He hated reading (unless it was about motorcycles and guns) and wasn't all that keen on going through all the books. Grumbling, he started. The books were all ancient, bounded in leather, and smelled of dust and mould.
"Man I hate this," he muttered, "Why can't my problems just be solved with a few bullets, all the time?"
He picked up a strange book that had a hard cover. It seemed to be made of...bone? A red gem was in the center.
Hang on a sec. That isn't a gem. He lifted the book up and saw a face in it's center, It's a red orb. A demon book?
He opened the cover. Demon runes - ancient demon runes. The kind only the oldest devils used. They were written neatly across thick, leather-like pages in groupings. Dante gathered the groupings were supposed words. He couldn't read them fluently enough to fully understand what was written but three he did understand.
That's dad's name...and mine and Vergil's? What...?
He tried to decipher more of the book but couldn't. He never did pay much attention to the words of the demon tongue. He could speak it well enough to get by but that was it.
Maybe I'll take this with me.
It was when he closed the book that he noticed something. A candle was lit on a desk in the back of the room. A book was opened with loose pages all around it. He walked toward it and looked at the writtings. The book itself was in a more modern demon script. It was more easily understood by the half-devil but someone before had deciphered it for him. The pages littered around were in English.
"Huh, spells and incantations...This must be the Old Religion the old man was talking about."
The scribblings were neat enough to read but only bits and pieces had been translated. As if the translator was being careful that no one would ever understand the contents of the book in case it their pages were found. The candle flickered and Dante noticed a shine on a page by his hand. He reached forward and dragged his finger across the word. Pen ink rubbed off on his finger.
"It's still wet?"
His senses flared then, screaming danger. He turned in time to see a ball of energy come at him. He jumped back and fired his guns in the direction the attack had come from.
Of course the ink was wet! A freakin' candle was still burning for Christ's sake!
An insane laugh filled the room, "Oh, how quick the little devil-boy is! Jumping here and there to avoid my wittle attacks!"
He growled, searching for his attacker, "Who are you?"
A purple figure jumped onto a table. He looked like a mad clown with a large nose and an even larger mouth. He held a scepter of some kind in his hand as he grinned widely at Dante.
He tightened his hands on his pistols, "Well? You gonna tell me who you are big nose? Or do we have to dance to find the answer?"
"Dance?" He laughed wildly, "Dancing is great! But you should know who I am. After all, who could forget a face like mine? Well? Do you know? Or do we have to drive a drill into that thick skull of yours?"
Not appreciating the remark, he started shooting at the clown's feet. He jumped up and around, tumbling off the table like some sort of circus trick. He then started literally dancing around to avoid Dante's bullets.
A little pissed that he was doing this, he ceased his fire. The clown stopped, "Whew! Thanks for the dance, little Sparda."
His eyes widened and he advanced quickly, "How do you know my name!"
"Whoa! Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa! Easy, little Sparda. I'll explain all. My name-" He drew himself up and made a dramatic bow, "- is Jester! And I know a great deal about you. How you have a pure devil for a father-a human for a mother! I know how a great fire separated you from your brother and drew you into the deepest pits of Hell and how you are being called a bad, bad boy for a bunch of dead humans-"
Dante surged forward, throwing the annoying moron against a shelf and putting Ebony to his nose.
"Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait!"
"It's bugging the crap out of me that you're talking more than me, so get to the point or your nose it going to have a bullet-sized peircing."
He laughed nervously, "No need to use violance. I have some information for you."
"What information?"
"About you dear brother, Vergil!"
"Vergil?" He snarled and pushed the gun further against his nose, "What about Vergil?"
"Heh, heh. The lad is on your trail, feeling the bond between you two flare now and then, but that's not a good thing! Your big brother will soon search for you and that will put him in danger."
"What do you mean?"
He grinned and suddenly disappeared from his grasp. Dante spun around, trying to find him. A laugh echoed from outside. He grabbed the book and ran out, searching.
"You better hurry, devil-boy! If you don't find your twin soon, he may wind up in trrroouuubbllleee!" Jester's annoying, maniacly laugh echoed before fading away.
Just as it did, the police arrived. Cursing, Dante spun and ran toward the back fence. Unfortunately, the police had blocked off to the smaller fences. The only one he could get to was a high one that even he couldn't jump over. He ran for it anyway, refusing to give up. To throw off his persuers, he turned and fired Ebony near them. He didn't aim to hit them, just enough to make them take cover. He needed all the time he could get.
He made it to the fence and saw his salvation. A lightpost. He picked up speed and ran up the post - a trick he saw his father do once during an attack. As soon as he reached the top, he jumped backward and flipped over the fence. As soon as he landed, he ran forward and into the streets beyond. It would take them time to get out of the complex to give chase.
He holstered Ebony and dashed into the day's crowds and shadows. However, his thoughts were not on his hunters. His thoughts were on Vergil. What had the clown meant by he was in danger? He wasn't into the lovey-dovey-protecty-brother attitude, but no one hurt his family and got away with it.
I've got to find Verge before he gets in trouble...
He ducked into an alley and managed to stop beside a wall before his head began to pound again. He fell to his knees and put his hands to his temples. It felt as though there was a pulsing pressure inside his brain that threatened to tear his skull apart.
Flashback...
"Dante, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it!"
"You knew all this time and DIDN'T TELL ME!" His hands tightened on his pistols.
"I did it to protect you!"
"Protect me? I don't need your fucking protection!"
Fighting ensued next. The sounds of punching next to a pistol being fired filled the room and a strong power overwhelmed the area. A power that hid itself under Dante's.
A body suddenly lay at Dante's feet. Blood pooled all around it. He knelt down and picked up the man he had been fighting with. He placed his fingers on his throat.
Nothing. He was dead.
End flashback...
The pounding faded as the flashback did. He looked up slowly with a stunned expression, Did...I kill him?
Hehe, can't tell Trickster is my favourite style, can you? ;)
Review please!
