First, I'd like to thank you again for the comments. Its great to know I'm not writing a piece of garbage.

And now, for all you Nero fans...finally(I know, he's been catching crap from everyone so far, lol).

Chapter 20 – Mission 8: Pestilence

It was just about after the third empty room he encountered that Nero switched on his headphones, music blasting from them as they rested against his neck. There was only so much of this he could take. And with no one else but him for what seemed like the entire mansion, he was getting bored.

The first room had been a library. And what with all the bookcases and shelves strewn about the floor, he had figured it would have been the perfect place for an ambush. His paranoid, cautious expectations were shot down quickly. The second room, to the left of the library, was nothing more than a study annex. More private than the first, it held only a single desk and chair, a computer and phone being among the only other things to decorate it. The third room, which he had just closed the door on, was broad corridor. Nero sighed, looking up. And came to a tense stillness.

He was in a bathroom. Normally, he would have turned his back on that immediately, unless of course he had to answer the call of nature. It was not so in this case. Apparently this bathroom was meant to accommodate many individuals at once rather than only one. Four sinks protruded from the walls, stalls to the left, and even a closed off section with a shower. The entire room, floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in the same white and gray tile.

And gallons of blood.

It didn't look right. As soon as Nero silently drew in a breath, he nearly gagged at the smell. It was the same as what he would have expected to find in a mortuary. Or worse. The blood was wrong. It was…just wrong. Everywhere he looked, hurried handprints and smears met his eyes as though he had walked onto a horror set. And every drop was a sickly, dead black. It wasn't even liquid anymore. More like runny jelly. But it was blood. The coppery smell behind the obscene odor was surely blood.

What the hell happened here?

Nero looked around, not even bothering with the minor thought that this room was probably empty. No. Someone…something was here. He could feel it. Somehow. Maybe it was how Dante had said he could sense demons. The demon hunter had once explained that he had to develop his "nose" for demonic taint, and that he'd probably only be able to get a fix on something big.

So…what did that mean now?

An involuntary chill ran down his spine as he drew Alastor from his back was a slight, electrical hiss. Sparks of lightning flew along the blade, glimmering nonstop. Can even the sword sense it?

Subconsciously, something told him to cut the music from his headphones. And as soon as he did, he heard it.

From the furthest stall, the one in the corner, came a sound. Scratching? No. Dragging? Maybe. Was it getting closer? Definitely.

"Come on out and show yourself!" he shouted into the depths of the bathroom(which sounded more epic than it really was in a situation like this).

A hand slapped against the edge of the wall, wrapped in soiled, bloody bandages. Where the worn wraps hung free, black, boiled skin shone clearly, like the thing's fingers had erupted with pustules. The next thing that was visible was the head, a grim, pained expression etched across the face as though it was permanent. The body slowly followed, bare, wrapped feet sliding across the ground, leaving trails of the same darkened blood as what stained the entire room. As soon as the whole of the creature was free from the stall, the decaying stench assaulted Nero again. Holding up his right arm to cover his nose and mouth, he coughed.

"Welcome, kindred one," the thing spoke from the gap in the bandages about its face, rotting, brown teeth clacking with each word, "Did the mistress send you?"

"Deumos? Sorry," Nero replied, trying his best to not breathe in through his nose, lowering the Devil Bringer, "I'm not one of your friends."

The neck cracked as its head tilted to the side.

"Ah, then you must be one of the intruders," the demon said.

"You got that right," he shot back.

The demon grinned, a green glow appearing in its eyes.

"Then I shall deal with you accordingly," it screamed, arms spreading out wide, splashing more blood on the floor as it seeped from its limbs, "Twist, wither, suffer, writhe, and die!"

As the blood sloshed over the tiled floor, even forming a puddle at his boots, Nero caught the steadily growing mist of sickly green that began to hover in the air over it. He caught his breath too late, hacking as he breathed in a mouthful of whatever was in the air. Without even thinking, he held what fresh air was in his lungs and charged, waves of black blood rippling as he went.

The demon smiled as he came closer, challenging him. Hell, the damn monster didn't even bother to move. Alastor came down on its shoulder, parting cloth, skin, bone. It probably even nicked an organ or two. But the demon shrugged it off as though Nero had poked it in the nose. A shockingly strong grip clamped down on his wrist. He saw the mouth stretched wide, a gapping, black whole lined with teeth coming closer and closer to him. It wanted to bite him.

"Not a chance!" he growled, slamming the Devil Bringer across the demon's chest and sending it flying across the room.

His feet were on treacherous footing. He nearly collapsed to his knees, crouching low his demonic hand crushed the demon against the far wall, tearing a nice chunk out of the stall door and parting the sink from the opposite wall. Water sprayed from the broken pipes as if he had uncorked a fire hydrant. The demon was oddly relaxed. It pressed up against the ethereal hand of the Devil Bringer.

"Is this all you have, devil whelp?" it spat, eyes glowing as it smirked his way, casting a glance to the water, "Water will only aid your demise."

Unable to resist the plummeting feeling in his stomach, Nero looked down to his feet. As the water met, swirled, and intertwined with the black blood, it slowly began to bubble into an emerald green. Nero felt it sink into his boots as the water level rose, trapped within the room and unable to go anywhere. He stepped back, releasing his foe. For now, he had worse things to worry about.

He still hadn't figured out what this thing could do. All he knew was that he was suddenly growing weaker.

Coughing as he stepped back to the door, his knees almost buckling as he reached for the handle, he shouldered it open and stumbled into the hall. The water followed him, acid-colored liquid staining the carpet black. He spun around at the sound of laughter, Alastor falling from his grip as he planted both hands on the floor to keep himself from falling. What's going on?

His left hand slowly turned a pallid white, his veins slowly turning a dead black while small boils formed all over it. He withdrew it, gasping in a sharp breath that called up another coughing fit. Nero spit into the water, barely noticing the drops of blood falling from his mouth.

"Growing sick, are we?" the demon asked from behind him.

Nero managed to snarl, his aching, pale hand grabbing at Alastor's hilt, using it more as a cane. The Blue Rose thankfully fell into his reach. But it seemed to take an eternity for his vision to settle back down. Can't…move too fast. Gotta keep…steady.

"What are you?" he hissed, firing off a crack shot from the double-barrel magnum.

The two bullets collided with the demon's shoulder, leaving smoldering holes in its flesh. It hardly noticed. Green mist, the same that had now begun to cloud everything, even the hall where Nero struggled to stand, flowed from it like blood.

"I am Pestilence," the demon stated proudly, "The Second Horseman."

Horseman? As in…Apocalypse? How did Deumos pulled that off? But right now, that didn't matter. If I don't finish this guy and get outta here, I'm gonna die.

Nero shook his head. Out of all the things he could have died from since Fortuna Island, since the Savior, he was going to die because of sickness.

It was kinda funny.

He couldn't help but laugh at that.

"What?" Pestilence scowled from where he stood.

Though it was becoming increasingly troublesome to stand up straight, Nero somehow found the strength. Gripping tight against Alastor's hilt and yanking it free from the floor, he took a surprisingly strong step forward. Something about the sword gave him strength.

"Nothing," he chuckled, despite himself or the situation, and added, "Just kinda funny, you know…you thinking I'm gonna kick the bucket 'cause of a cold."

Pestilence was more than speechless. The demon might have been dumbstruck. He couldn't tell because he couldn't see his face. And he didn't care. Nero took another step forward, standing up straighter as a sudden warmth spread throughout his body. At his side, Alastor's edge flicked with lightning.

"I can't die! Not now," Nero cried, and smiled, "Sneeze at me all you want, you're going down!"

Nero wasn't quite sure what force propelled him into a flat sprint towards the Horseman. Only a minute ago, he hadn't had the strength or health to be doing any of that. He probably still didn't. He could feel the demon's poison coursing through his body. But, somehow, it seemed to have slowed. Maybe it was his demon blood. He didn't know.

Pestilence couldn't believe it either. And apparently, he knew he was done for. He had already proven that he was a slow fighter. Obviously he fought and destroyed his enemies by slowly draining them until they had neither the stamina nor the power to stand against him. But if someone could resist his effects…

Nero took Alastor in both hands as he leapt into the air. A bright flash engulfed his vision for only a moment, and then he was flying towards Pestilence with growing light surrounding him. The demon was stunned still.

A second flash of light erupted as he swung down with all of his might. He met almost no resistance as his blade sliced cleanly through the corpse that the Horseman already was. Even as the demonic steel passed through him, great bolts of electricity raced through his body, causing him to seize and twist and burn. Even before Alastor's edge bite into the floor, Pestilence was already vanishing.

Nero cast a look to his right. The mirror showed his true form. With Alastor in his right hand, he stood in bright white light, scaled wings at his back, an ethereal, skeletal armor about his body. His eyes shined a brilliant red, lightning surrounding his entire body. Even the water sparked as it met his touch. The metal pipes glowed a hot orange as hey began to steam, the green liquid baking beneath him until it became a calmer, less diseased grey. The mist dissipated. Slowly, Nero closed his eyes and the power left him.

His reflection was back to normal.

So...that's Alastor.

A green orb came slowly floating his way. Unconsciously, he reached out for it.

Devil Arm Information:

Name: Pandemic

Description: A set of five darts with hollowed points meant for injecting their venom into an opponent. Connected by wire to the wrist launcher, the user can fire any number of the five at one or multiple enemies. They also retract on their own.