Vergil listened to his foster parents talk in hushed whispers; they had no idea how useless their attempt at quiet conversation was. It was about him, it was always about him. How bright he was, how he was going to do great things and change the world, and how he was so detached. They bickered quietly about his personality and intelligence, if they were doing the right things with him, for him. His mother sounded hurt that he wasn't affectionate with her, his father touting how he was always polite and well behaved, they were doing something right.

The silverette tugged at his hair in annoyance at the conversation, he was never going to be their perfect son, he didn't know if he was anyone's perfect son. Memories of his real father and mother were hazy at best. Hands trailed down to his neck grasping the cord that held a blue gem against his chest. His mother, his real one, Eva… She had given it to him, the only memento he had of his early childhood. He tried to remember her face, muddled in with distant memories that seemed almost like someone else's life. There was his mother, Eva, and his father, Sparda and something else, someone else that was out of his reach. Feeling the rough cord against his palms he noted the faint scar on his left shoulder aching to remember where it had come from.

He didn't recall much before he was seven, having suffered a car accident at that age. He was in a coma the told him, had recovered physically though his memories were gone. Total amnesia from head trauma, it sounded plausible he didn't really have basis to argue the fact, and still there was always something nagging in his mind. As if his current reality wasn't everything it seemed. He assumed that's where his scar had come from; then again it looked more like a bite mark of something not entirely human.

The faint blemish on his shoulder radiated warmth as he tried to piece what was missing from his scattered memories. It always nudged for his attention when he was deep in thought and the silverette believed it to be related to whatever he sought so hard to discover, as opposed to his accident. Perhaps it was an answer to himself, why he was like he was, why he felt like such an outcast.

He knew he was not like other children, certainly not like his parents. Where cuts and scrapes on the schoolyard were common his flesh was flawless, save for his shoulder. Beyond that his mental capacity was also beyond those of his peers. He'd graduated high school by age ten and began to work on his own programs, writing and selling them to willing buyers. He dove into books that even his parents couldn't understand and his room was adorned with pages and pages of scripture. It was his solace to pour over manuscripts of coding, history, and his guilty pleasure the demonic Underworld.

Without the desire for further schooling he'd retreated into himself during his teens; continuing to sell programs to those with enough money and amassing a wealth of his own. He moved out, hugging his foster parents goodbye, and into a penthouse he'd bought with his own money. A security algorithm sold to the largest corporation in the city had made him a multi-millionaire and still there was emptiness in his life.

Vergil sat at his desk, letting his eyes fall closed, three massive digital displays all working algorithms, numbers, and processes. His mind swam with dormant memories finally unleashed. The pages of his book written in demonic dialect had triggered something as he skimmed the pages. Faster and faster his eyes darted over the words a voice shrieking in his head as he fervently tried to see what had been hidden from him.

In a flash he was consumed, breath tightening in his chest for he saw himself as a child, and his parents, and his brother. The mark on his neck pulsed with every beat of his heart as blood pounded in his ears. They were a family together, living in ignorance, himself and his twin brother… Dante.

He remembered everything; clawing through memories as if he might drown in them, aching to find where his twin might be. There was only darkness, Sparda had wiped his memory, and he was not human. Gripping the edge of his desk with white knuckles he stood and staggered slowly to his bed. Falling into the comforter it did nothing to soothe a burning deep in his veins.

He was unique, he was one of two Nephilim, and the other was lost. Probably just as blissfully unaware as he had been for over a decade, but why separate them? He would've taken care of his brother; he ached to do it now. Grunting and growling in annoyance the elder twin fisted the sheets, burying his head into the pillow. He bit into the fabric tearing it with sharp canines trying to slow the waves of memories that flooded him.

He needed to know more, he knew what he was now but there was a nagging sensation of emptiness that lingered. Exhaustion crept into his body as his mind raced over every detail that had been so expertly taken from him. He shuddered involuntarily as the last moments of that dreadful night played through. The knowledge he'd gained pouring through scripture allowed deeper understanding of what he was seeing, in the moments before he was ripped away from everything he'd ever known.

He was sensitive to demonic presence which is what had truly awoken him that tragic night, his primal instincts driving him to take what he felt was his. He'd held Dante in his arms and claimed him not only as a brother, but as a possession, a lover, and a mate. Pressing his body harder into the bed Vergil moaned as he realized what he'd done and why he was never fulfilled. Dante was out there somewhere, he would find him, he vowed with everything he was he would be re-united with his twin.

It had been weeks since Vergil's awakening, when his memories were returned and the sentiment was bittersweet. He'd spent countless hours and dollars looking for his twin but without an idea of where to start it was akin to searching for his shadow. As he placed out feelers into every nook and cranny his senses began to hone, the scenery began to change. Walking down the street wrapped tightly in his dress coat it seemed darker, the hairs on his neck standing on end when people would pass.

Little by little he began to see the city he was living in, and indeed the world, for what it was. Slowly begin strangled by demonic presence there were followers and spotters on every corner. He could pick them out a mile away now, black tears streaking down their faces, features twisted in horror. It was his inner demon that allowed him such observance, for the humans wandered on blissfully unaware of their enslavement.

Mundus, the Demon King of the Underworld was at the head of it all, protected by a Hell Gate and ruling through any means necessary. Vergil's understanding grew clearer and clearer each day as he watched humanity slip into a dreamlike submissive state. It burned in his mind how the Demon King had torn his family apart, murdered his mother, imprisoned his father, and his brother was lost to him. He would have his revenge, with Dante, but the silverette needed to find him.

Using his limitless resources Vergil gathered a group of acquaintances who like him could sense something amiss everywhere they turned. The group grew, with it a name, he called it 'The Order' and worked together with those he deemed worthy to begin to fight back against Mundus' order. Inserting chaos with precise strikes he bled knowledge from both databases and bodies alike.

He was making great strides in pulling more and more to his cause, hiding his face behind a mask and taking over the air waves to send out his messages. He could never be sure what Mundus knew of his existence but he wasn't going to offer up anything, so he kept himself hidden. The rain outside caused him to look up from his computer and regard the weather with disdain. It caused his shoulder to thrum with heat and his heart to break a little more. Without thinking his eyes moved towards the door to his study, willing and wanting his mirror to come through and into his embrace, just like when they were young. Snarling Vergil backhanded the books and papers from his desk in anger, there was still no sign of his twin. It tore at him wondering if he was alone somewhere, craving his touch as much as Vergil yearned for his.

A tone brought him slowly back to his surroundings, releasing balled up fists and rolling his shoulders to relive the tension. His eyes lashed over the screen and he stilled, breath caught in his throat at the words reflecting in his blue eyes. Dante son of Sparda. Fingers flew over his keyboard with inhuman speed as he traced its origin, somewhere someone knew where his brother was. He poured over records over the destroyed orphanage and police files but the younger twin had vanished. Hellfire Prison.

"Fuck!"

Vergil paced back and forth, Hellfire Prison was a demon prison, nobody had ever escaped and worse, it was in limbo itself. He couldn't get there on his own despite his power, and even if he could get there how would he get them out? Days went by and the silverette did not sleep, did not eat, fueled by the knowledge he was close, and getting closer. One of his followers had mentioned a girl, Kat, that seemed to be able to find rifts into limbo, had spent time there. She would help him, he would offer no choice.

He'd spent weeks planning it out, making sure she was in the right place at the right time, along with some well placed explosives at a giveaway for one of Mundus' creations, Virility Soda. Lobotomy in a can. She'd fallen into the inferno that raged and Vergil ensured he was caught on surveillance speaking to her before police arrived, vanishing before he himself was caught.

She was taken to the police station and placed in a holding cell, and he'd slipped in to offer up an option. She could locate rifts into limbo, and he needed such a location inside Hellfire Prison. Help him and he'd save her, deny him and she could rot in her cell indefinitely, aiding a terrorist was frowned upon.

She had taken his offer; of course, it was the only logical choice. Though the journey had been tough and had gone according to plan he'd gotten in only to find that his brother had managed to escape. The only person to have ever done so in thousands of years, Vergil was both amused and infuriated, of course his twin had broken free, he should not have expected less. The trip had not been all for loss, Kat had proven she was useful as a medium and psychic, having pulled a wealth of knowledge from the prison itself before they escaped. He'd had to use his Devil Trigger, giving in to his darker side and relishing in the power it provided, but they had returned to the mortal world.

Armed with the location of his brother he sent Kat to retrieve him, the blood in his veins singing with anticipation.