II.III After Death
"Don't you even get up," Trish growled, pointing the shut gun daringly at the Nero Angelo that was still hostage in her apartment, his back pressed up against the wall patiently. She stepped closer to him, still aiming, and kicked his sword away. He made no attempt to stop her. Dante hurried back into the apartment and slammed the door shut behind him, quickly taking note of the situation. Trish looked back at him and sighed with relief. The Knight arose quickly and Trish gave him a promising glare, but Dante guided the shotgun away from him much to her surprise.
"What did you say to me earlier?" He rasped, ignoring the disbelieving look Trish gave him.
"Master Sparda." The Knight replied in a foreign, unrecognisable accent.
Trish was flabbergasted. "What?!"
The Knight continued, "my name is-"
"Your fuckin' name isn't important. What do you want, Nero?"
"The legend is true, and you live up to your legacy, hero."
Despite the compliment, Dante looked insulted, debating on whether or not to kill him now. "I'm no hero," came the soft retort.
"Twenty-five years ago, prior to your death, you continued your father's legacy with personal intent on seeking vengeance against the demon who killed your mother, and you were successful. You are a hero. But as Mundus promised, he returned-only after he succeeded in killing you."
Trish had a incredulous look about her.
"Killing me?" Dante echoed. "How so?"
"He had your Melancholy Soul."
Trish was surprised. "I guess Rayne was right…" She brushed debris from her couch and sat down, still pointing the nozzle toward the Knight.
"You finally died, and it was destroyed, unbeknownst to us that you would only return decades later."
"Wait," Dante interrupted. "So, you knew I died?" Nero nodded.
"We knew every waking moment of your existence. When you came back to life- from powers beyond our control…" He paused momentarily to look up at the ceiling with intended insinuation before he continued. "…we were sent to make sure you hadn't any intentions of spoiling Mundus' plans for world domination."
"What?!" Dante thundered. "Mundus' plans for what?"
Trish gasped. "I knew it…it was only a matter of time before-"
"Armageddon," she and Nero voiced together. Dante was taken aback.
"Hell's Army, led by commander Prince Mundus, is soon to cast the first stone starting World War III-or Armageddon. Only this time it wont be nation against nation. You've returned because you are the world's saviour, Master Sparda. And I turn my cheek against evil because your father had the right idea."
"..…"
"It is a lot to take in, and I do not expect a response from you so swiftly. However," he walked up to Dante and placed his two massive hands on his shoulders, peering down into his pale green eyes with his red and said, "Sparda may have done it himself, but he was not facing Prince Mundus. If you choose to accept this appointed mission, I will help you. But I cannot do it alone." He stepped back until he was at heels with his weapon, picked it up and slid it into his sleath.
"I'll be back expecting an answer, Master Sparda." Again there was a blue flash, and Nero was gone.
Dante stood staring blankly at the space where Nero stood, unconsciously rubbing his hand across his neck to ease the pain. Already the holes had closed up in his chest. Trish managed to close her mouth, set down the shotgun and saunter over to him, taking down his hand to have a look at his neck. Dante ignored her prodding, trying to baste in the information.
"Why does he call me Master Sparda? I'm just his son."
"Your father died years ago, Dante," Trish replied. "You are Sparda."
Dante leaned into the bathroom mirror, combing his white hair back with his fingers, a large scissors in his left hand. It was actually the first time he'd seen himself in twenty-five years, and just as he'd left this world, he returned to it. Insanely gorgeous, backed with the vitality of youth. He pulled all the hair he could back in a pony tail, gripped it tightly in one hand and snipped off the excess hair with the scissors. Pleased that he was back to normal, he slid the scissors back into the drawer and tightened the towel around his waist.
Trish was dragging a large black garbage bag down the hall when she stopped by the open bathroom door behind him and set down the bag full of broken items and shattered glass. He noticed her reflection in the mirror but never turned around to acknowledge her. He had completely lathered his face when she spoke.
"I didn't think they could talk…Vergil can't."
Dante made a sweeping motion from one side of his neck to the other with his index finger, explaining Vergil's silence. Trish nodded in understanding.
"So, Sparda. You going to take on the Underworld alone?" She leaned against the door frame, arms folded across her chest.
"I decided that I would long ago." He scraped off the stubble on his top lip and rinsed the razor under the faucet.
"I wouldn't advise you to do this, Dante."
"If not me, then who?" He heard Trish's heavy sigh behind him.
"He's Mundus' minion. How do we know we can trust him?"
Dante turned slightly to look at her from the corner of his eyes. "So was my father. So were you." He had a point that she couldn't argue.
Again there was a heavy sigh. "Why?" She asked simply.
"…A woman once told me that twenty-five years ago, a Nero Angelo killed my son and his mother." His tone was tinted with dejection as he tried to hide his disappointed countenance behind a slight smirk. "The way I figure it is, if I take on this job, I'm bound to hit the jackpot sooner or later."
The roof of Trish's apartment building was huge, and from that height, it was possible to see the entire city of Detroit. It was near dusk, and surrounding buildings glimmered faintly as street lights and signs lit up, welcoming the night. Pedestrians were nearly invisible, but below, a mass of ambulances and cop cars littered the streets, cleaning up after the afternoon's catastrophe. Dante could see the red and blue lights bouncing off the wet pavement below.
Twenty-five full stories above the city, and still not the tallest building. And twenty-five wasted years.
Dante placed a foot up on the edge of the building and leaned over to look at the scene below. In his left hand, he was leaning on Force Edge slightly, and he used his right to pull the cigarette from between his lips and flick it into the wind. The weather was nice tonight, but extremely windy, with cold winds blowing in from the north and rustling his hair.
"Nice night, huh?" Trish said, placing her folded arms on the edge next to him. Dante looked down at her and hopped from the ledge, nodding in agreement.
He pulled her over and ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her face then finally taking her hands into his own and examining them briefly. She looked on at him curiously as he did this. Dante wrinkled his brows in confusion.
"You don't have it…"
"What? The markings?" She was referring to the '666' or M.M. (Mark of Mundus) half the city flaunted.
"Yeah. Everyone has it either on their forehead or wrists, with the exception of a few religious devotees."
Trish shook her head disgustedly. "I never took it, but I'm going to have to."
Dante shook his head. "Don't bother. It won't be much use soon." He hopped back up onto the ledge and sat down, loosing most if not all interest in the scene below. Trish leaned in next to him.
"How did you notice anyway? You can only see the markings under black light."
Dante scoffed. "My curse is also my blessing." There was a quick flash of blue light, and Trish looked up to the sky with the eerie trickle of Goosebumps rising on her arms. Must be rain.
"Hmm." She turned around to head back inside but smacked into the chest of the returning Knight, a frightened gasp following the collision. She looked up into his menacing red eyes with her mouth gaping open, only he stepped aside and allowed her to pass without confrontation.
"I guess…I'll leave you two alone…" She mumbled when she felt Dante's hand wrapped around her arm, guiding her toward the staircase. He still had Force Edge in his hand for trust had not yet been fully established with him. She started for the exit, looking back over her shoulder at him to verify if he really wanted to be left alone with Nero.
"I'll be alright," he assured. She gave Nero one last look and disappeared through the exit. Nero didn't speak until he heard the door slam behind her.
"Sparda," he begun finally, "I hope you have a response I want to hear." There was a slight quiver in his voice with eager anticipation. Dante started up a pace himself, partially paying attention and scoping out the rooftop as if he were on patrol.
"There is a personal reason that influenced my response-which is yes, I will do anything I can to stop Mundus. It is my destiny." Nero was beyond pleased, and his body seemed to un-tense after Dante's answer.
Dante stopped pacing momentarily to look at Nero. "Now, what's your reason?"
Nero looked perplexed. Avoiding complexities, he answered simply, "I solely seek to right the wrong with those who I have trespassed." Dante gave him an incredulous look, staring at him blankly as though awaiting further explanation because he didn't believe him the first time. Nero intercepted his stare by pacing to the left a bit, his heavy armour grating with every step. Dante sensed his discomfort and promptly changed the subject, not wishing to become too personal with him anyway.
"Who is Prince Mundus?" This was an inquiry he could answer.
Nero straightened up. "Prince Mundus- Adoni Demetrios, so called After Death, because he stands alone once his enemies have fallen. He is stealthy, mercilessness and bellicose, self proclaimed 'Prince.' It is he who will lead Hell's Army into Armageddon. Unless… you can defeat him."
Dante raised a curious brow at the mention. "Prince Mundus? As in Mundus' legitimate son?"
Nero seemed frustrated. "His origin is of no importance," he replied dryly.
Dante cocked his head inquisitively. "What good are you to me then? You don't know anything."
"I know more about you than you imagine." Dante narrowed his brows, forming a deep groove down his forehead.
"Nero, I swear you'd better not be hiding shit form me, understand?" Nero stepped back, blinking at his sudden change of temperament.
"My apologies…"
"Save it. Come back with all the information you can carry."
They stared hard at one another for a brief moment, both reluctant to part first. But then, Nero nodded and disappeared in a blue flash. There was something unsteady about the way Nero made him feel. The way he spoke. The way he avoided certain topics of conversation. Currently, Nero was walking a thin line between trust and suspicion.
"Don't you even get up," Trish growled, pointing the shut gun daringly at the Nero Angelo that was still hostage in her apartment, his back pressed up against the wall patiently. She stepped closer to him, still aiming, and kicked his sword away. He made no attempt to stop her. Dante hurried back into the apartment and slammed the door shut behind him, quickly taking note of the situation. Trish looked back at him and sighed with relief. The Knight arose quickly and Trish gave him a promising glare, but Dante guided the shotgun away from him much to her surprise.
"What did you say to me earlier?" He rasped, ignoring the disbelieving look Trish gave him.
"Master Sparda." The Knight replied in a foreign, unrecognisable accent.
Trish was flabbergasted. "What?!"
The Knight continued, "my name is-"
"Your fuckin' name isn't important. What do you want, Nero?"
"The legend is true, and you live up to your legacy, hero."
Despite the compliment, Dante looked insulted, debating on whether or not to kill him now. "I'm no hero," came the soft retort.
"Twenty-five years ago, prior to your death, you continued your father's legacy with personal intent on seeking vengeance against the demon who killed your mother, and you were successful. You are a hero. But as Mundus promised, he returned-only after he succeeded in killing you."
Trish had a incredulous look about her.
"Killing me?" Dante echoed. "How so?"
"He had your Melancholy Soul."
Trish was surprised. "I guess Rayne was right…" She brushed debris from her couch and sat down, still pointing the nozzle toward the Knight.
"You finally died, and it was destroyed, unbeknownst to us that you would only return decades later."
"Wait," Dante interrupted. "So, you knew I died?" Nero nodded.
"We knew every waking moment of your existence. When you came back to life- from powers beyond our control…" He paused momentarily to look up at the ceiling with intended insinuation before he continued. "…we were sent to make sure you hadn't any intentions of spoiling Mundus' plans for world domination."
"What?!" Dante thundered. "Mundus' plans for what?"
Trish gasped. "I knew it…it was only a matter of time before-"
"Armageddon," she and Nero voiced together. Dante was taken aback.
"Hell's Army, led by commander Prince Mundus, is soon to cast the first stone starting World War III-or Armageddon. Only this time it wont be nation against nation. You've returned because you are the world's saviour, Master Sparda. And I turn my cheek against evil because your father had the right idea."
"..…"
"It is a lot to take in, and I do not expect a response from you so swiftly. However," he walked up to Dante and placed his two massive hands on his shoulders, peering down into his pale green eyes with his red and said, "Sparda may have done it himself, but he was not facing Prince Mundus. If you choose to accept this appointed mission, I will help you. But I cannot do it alone." He stepped back until he was at heels with his weapon, picked it up and slid it into his sleath.
"I'll be back expecting an answer, Master Sparda." Again there was a blue flash, and Nero was gone.
Dante stood staring blankly at the space where Nero stood, unconsciously rubbing his hand across his neck to ease the pain. Already the holes had closed up in his chest. Trish managed to close her mouth, set down the shotgun and saunter over to him, taking down his hand to have a look at his neck. Dante ignored her prodding, trying to baste in the information.
"Why does he call me Master Sparda? I'm just his son."
"Your father died years ago, Dante," Trish replied. "You are Sparda."
Dante leaned into the bathroom mirror, combing his white hair back with his fingers, a large scissors in his left hand. It was actually the first time he'd seen himself in twenty-five years, and just as he'd left this world, he returned to it. Insanely gorgeous, backed with the vitality of youth. He pulled all the hair he could back in a pony tail, gripped it tightly in one hand and snipped off the excess hair with the scissors. Pleased that he was back to normal, he slid the scissors back into the drawer and tightened the towel around his waist.
Trish was dragging a large black garbage bag down the hall when she stopped by the open bathroom door behind him and set down the bag full of broken items and shattered glass. He noticed her reflection in the mirror but never turned around to acknowledge her. He had completely lathered his face when she spoke.
"I didn't think they could talk…Vergil can't."
Dante made a sweeping motion from one side of his neck to the other with his index finger, explaining Vergil's silence. Trish nodded in understanding.
"So, Sparda. You going to take on the Underworld alone?" She leaned against the door frame, arms folded across her chest.
"I decided that I would long ago." He scraped off the stubble on his top lip and rinsed the razor under the faucet.
"I wouldn't advise you to do this, Dante."
"If not me, then who?" He heard Trish's heavy sigh behind him.
"He's Mundus' minion. How do we know we can trust him?"
Dante turned slightly to look at her from the corner of his eyes. "So was my father. So were you." He had a point that she couldn't argue.
Again there was a heavy sigh. "Why?" She asked simply.
"…A woman once told me that twenty-five years ago, a Nero Angelo killed my son and his mother." His tone was tinted with dejection as he tried to hide his disappointed countenance behind a slight smirk. "The way I figure it is, if I take on this job, I'm bound to hit the jackpot sooner or later."
The roof of Trish's apartment building was huge, and from that height, it was possible to see the entire city of Detroit. It was near dusk, and surrounding buildings glimmered faintly as street lights and signs lit up, welcoming the night. Pedestrians were nearly invisible, but below, a mass of ambulances and cop cars littered the streets, cleaning up after the afternoon's catastrophe. Dante could see the red and blue lights bouncing off the wet pavement below.
Twenty-five full stories above the city, and still not the tallest building. And twenty-five wasted years.
Dante placed a foot up on the edge of the building and leaned over to look at the scene below. In his left hand, he was leaning on Force Edge slightly, and he used his right to pull the cigarette from between his lips and flick it into the wind. The weather was nice tonight, but extremely windy, with cold winds blowing in from the north and rustling his hair.
"Nice night, huh?" Trish said, placing her folded arms on the edge next to him. Dante looked down at her and hopped from the ledge, nodding in agreement.
He pulled her over and ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her face then finally taking her hands into his own and examining them briefly. She looked on at him curiously as he did this. Dante wrinkled his brows in confusion.
"You don't have it…"
"What? The markings?" She was referring to the '666' or M.M. (Mark of Mundus) half the city flaunted.
"Yeah. Everyone has it either on their forehead or wrists, with the exception of a few religious devotees."
Trish shook her head disgustedly. "I never took it, but I'm going to have to."
Dante shook his head. "Don't bother. It won't be much use soon." He hopped back up onto the ledge and sat down, loosing most if not all interest in the scene below. Trish leaned in next to him.
"How did you notice anyway? You can only see the markings under black light."
Dante scoffed. "My curse is also my blessing." There was a quick flash of blue light, and Trish looked up to the sky with the eerie trickle of Goosebumps rising on her arms. Must be rain.
"Hmm." She turned around to head back inside but smacked into the chest of the returning Knight, a frightened gasp following the collision. She looked up into his menacing red eyes with her mouth gaping open, only he stepped aside and allowed her to pass without confrontation.
"I guess…I'll leave you two alone…" She mumbled when she felt Dante's hand wrapped around her arm, guiding her toward the staircase. He still had Force Edge in his hand for trust had not yet been fully established with him. She started for the exit, looking back over her shoulder at him to verify if he really wanted to be left alone with Nero.
"I'll be alright," he assured. She gave Nero one last look and disappeared through the exit. Nero didn't speak until he heard the door slam behind her.
"Sparda," he begun finally, "I hope you have a response I want to hear." There was a slight quiver in his voice with eager anticipation. Dante started up a pace himself, partially paying attention and scoping out the rooftop as if he were on patrol.
"There is a personal reason that influenced my response-which is yes, I will do anything I can to stop Mundus. It is my destiny." Nero was beyond pleased, and his body seemed to un-tense after Dante's answer.
Dante stopped pacing momentarily to look at Nero. "Now, what's your reason?"
Nero looked perplexed. Avoiding complexities, he answered simply, "I solely seek to right the wrong with those who I have trespassed." Dante gave him an incredulous look, staring at him blankly as though awaiting further explanation because he didn't believe him the first time. Nero intercepted his stare by pacing to the left a bit, his heavy armour grating with every step. Dante sensed his discomfort and promptly changed the subject, not wishing to become too personal with him anyway.
"Who is Prince Mundus?" This was an inquiry he could answer.
Nero straightened up. "Prince Mundus- Adoni Demetrios, so called After Death, because he stands alone once his enemies have fallen. He is stealthy, mercilessness and bellicose, self proclaimed 'Prince.' It is he who will lead Hell's Army into Armageddon. Unless… you can defeat him."
Dante raised a curious brow at the mention. "Prince Mundus? As in Mundus' legitimate son?"
Nero seemed frustrated. "His origin is of no importance," he replied dryly.
Dante cocked his head inquisitively. "What good are you to me then? You don't know anything."
"I know more about you than you imagine." Dante narrowed his brows, forming a deep groove down his forehead.
"Nero, I swear you'd better not be hiding shit form me, understand?" Nero stepped back, blinking at his sudden change of temperament.
"My apologies…"
"Save it. Come back with all the information you can carry."
They stared hard at one another for a brief moment, both reluctant to part first. But then, Nero nodded and disappeared in a blue flash. There was something unsteady about the way Nero made him feel. The way he spoke. The way he avoided certain topics of conversation. Currently, Nero was walking a thin line between trust and suspicion.
