Chapter 8 – Mission 3: Another Touching Family Reunion
The steps to the tallest tower of the cathedral were almost endless. He thought he might lose about a week's worth of pizza in weight before he reached the top. In truth, he had been here only one time before. Way back when, before the cathedral had even been built. Back when his brother had risen the tower of Temen-ni-gru at this exact spot.
That was more than thirty years ago now.
A sigh escaped him as he saw the doorway.
"Finally!" he gasped as he nudged it open with his foot, "Do you have an obsession with being high up? Or do you just like looking down at people?"
Snow was falling, creating mounds of white on the floor of the tower, open to the air. The sky remained unchanged from day to night now, as it continued to fall. Even if it was around midnight. His footsteps crunched as he walked forward. The man on the opposite side of the tower turned his head to glance at him. He didn't even bother to move more than that. A white, winged dragon was emblazoned on the back of his coat.
"Neither," the man said in an honest by edged tone, "I just prefer privacy when it comes to family matters."
"Huh! And here I thought it was some superiority complex!" Dante let out in an exasperated breath, shrugging.
The man turned fully around, both of his hands resting on a cane. He wore a blue coat that tapered at the waist, several buttons holding it shut across his chest while the tails split behind his back, floating in the air with the breeze. Black gloves covered his hands, black boots on his feet. His white hair was slicked back as always, though was longer than he remembered. Cold eyes studied him with vicious intent behind a serene calm. The cane was plainly black, a single silver cap at either end, a ring around the edge of the grip, a tassel hanging off the top.
Silence followed. And it didn't seem to phase either one of them. Both of the men stared at each other with the same eyes, even the same expression. It was uncanny.
But who would not have expected that?
"Hardly," the man replied curtly, "You don't seem surprised to know that I'm alive."
Dante stepped off to the left, starting to pace leisurely.
"We're twin brothers," he remarked with the same, nonchalant voice, "We'd both know if the other had died. Besides, I didn't kill you back on Mallet Island."
"Indeed," was all the other said.
"The only thing I want to know is…why are you here?"
The other did not appear to have even heard the question. He didn't give away any reaction at all.
Dante drew his sword, already charging forward and slashing. A clash of steel sounded between them. The man had all but appeared before him in a flash, no movement apparent to the normal, naked eye. How such a thin blade, maybe only a little more than an inch wide, could stand up to Rebellion was beyond him.
"Do you still want to settle our duel, Vergil?" Dante asked with only a slight strain as the blade in his brother's hand pressed against the edge of Rebellion.
Vergil's steady, even glare all but burned lines through the air at him. The swords locked between them began to hiss, smoke rising as they began to glow.
"You should know, Dante…I'm the only one who can kill you," he stated shortly.
They broke apart within the blink of an eye and met again as their swords clashed, sounding like thunder from the heavens. Even the air seemed sliced in two as each stroke met with the blade of the other's weapon, an oppressive aura surrounding both of the twins, bathing them in it. Not even the greatest human warrior could see what attacks passed between them. It was beyond their sight.
A second time, the swords clanged, sparks flying as they pressed against one another.
"You've gotten faster, brother," Vergil said with a malicious smirk.
"So have you," Dante answered without so much as a hint of humor or happiness.
The next break lasted even shorter than the first, and it was only a breath's time they locked swords again. Each blade, Rebellion and Vergil's sword, all but screamed now in protest.
"Why the hero act?" Dante asked, for once troubled that he could not understand what was going through his brother's head, "Why save Nero and Patty? I didn't think you cared so much!"
Even thirty years ago, when he had threatened the whole world with chaos and destruction only like they had known before their father, Sparda, he had gotten that. He had understood Vergil's reasons for it all along. Their fight then had not been over some misunderstanding. They had stood against each other, fully knowing and comprehending each other. Just as twins should.
But now, for only the second time in their lives, there was gray between them. Clouds. Dante could not see it. Why had he saved them?
Disentangling himself from Dante, Vergil made a series of slashes that each met with a parry. Backing up a step, holding his sword out towards his brother, Vergil remained standing completely still while Dante stayed rooted to the spot, ready and waiting.
"They are of no consequence," his brother stated coldly.
"You're lying!" Dante shouted back, and for the first time that he had known his brother was still alive, he felt real anger at him, "You've done it more than once! What's so important that you would go out of your way to protect it?"
He sprang at him, Vergil unmoving as always, waiting. A simple block kept Rebellion's tip from even grazing a hair on his twin's head. When his brother's hand sped forward and connected with his chest, sending his spinning back through the snowy air, he reached into his coat and drew Ivory, firing off a dozen shots before he even landed on his knees. Vergil came rushing in, avoiding each path of the bullets as though they were not even there. Propelling himself upwards, Dante's legs windmilling as he went, he pushed himself into the air again, firing another two shots. Vergil followed his every move. Their swords met again, and his brother's sword even managed to deflect Ivory's barrel away from his face.
"It's Nero, isn't it?" Dante asked in a mere whisper.
Bull's eye.
Something flashed across Vergil's eyes. For a second, they changed from the same silvery blue as his own to blood red. It was the only thing that betrayed his brother's reaction to his words. Not even his expression had changed. But the destructive aura and the strength that surged through Vergil was enough to send Dante speeding back towards the floor of the tower.
He landed in a cloud of white, snow kicking up everywhere as he landed. A bright flash, a ribbon of blue light.
The floor of the tower was slashed cleanly through, bricks, steel, wood, and all. The gash stretched a quarter of the way across the surface, ending where it had sliced straight through the stained glass window a floor below. Dante whistled from a safe distance away, comfortably perched on top of the wall.
"Was it something I said?" he commented with mock innocence, leaning forward to gaze at Vergil from across the tower once more.
"How did you know?" his brother asked as the snow finally settled back down to the floor.
"Not a hard guess. The kid didn't come from me, that's for sure!"
Silence enveloped them again. Only the wind gave any sound to their world. Dante took a deep breath. For the first time since...Vergil had let himself become trapped in the demon world, he didn't want this fight to continue. Then again, had he ever? Truly?
"What happened, Vergil?" he asked in a quieter tone, maybe like he had used to speak to his brother before they had been caught up their blood feud.
"It's none of your concern," his brother told him as he made a lightning fast leap up to Dante's seat and struck.
Dante evaded this time, not even bothering to counter. He landed on the floor of the tower once more, his sword at his side as he replaced Ivory in his coat.
"Like Hell, it isn't!" he chided, pointing up at Vergil, "He's my nephew. I think that makes it my business."
He looked around, noticed the strewn footsteps and deep arcs in the snow from their fight, as well as the damage done to the tower. The wind was howling.
"Although, this is hardly the place for a heart to heart," he confessed, chuckling light-heartedly.
Vergil only stared at him.
"If it's a brotherly discussion you want, why don't you begin?" Vergil suggested vehemently, jumping down from the wall, his sword flashing in the dim light, "Why don't you tell me why you had to kill our mother?"
Dante sighed. Somehow, he knew that was going to come up. Eventually.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he replied with a grave honesty that was only there long enough for him to shake his head before he looked back up at Vergil and turned around, heading for the door, "Listen…if you really want to know, come by Devil May Cry tomorrow. I won't say a peep to Nero. That's your job to tell him. And then, you'll have your answers soon enough."
"No," Vergil said.
"Then I guess you'll never know why I had to go and kill mom."
