How long have we been fighting Dante?
A minute?
An hour?
A day?
I can't breathe, and I know that you can't either.
But still you try, we're both trying, actually.
Doing our best to end each other with an earnestness that is only seen between scorned brothers with stolen birthrights.
Almost like a fable, though morals have no place here.
I can sense something though, a key difference.
That I have bitten off far more of you then I can ever hope to chew.
I feel your power pulsing through me, so great and deep that it possesses an entire life of its own.
(My skin has split itself apart from my wrist to my shoulder, a throbbing black mass of muscle forcing itself through)
Visible through my coat, it dangles, dangles.
Thoughts and feelings and memories, none of them belonging to me; but just like the boy, I'll take them anyway.
Our brains are cracking, the minds inside going soft; mutilating themselves.
Still, the sight of you makes a part of my soul quiver within me, bearing its fangs out of an old nostalgic fear.
Even though there is not much of anything to be afraid of anymore.
It hasn't even occurred to you to withdraw your sword, and your guns are as quiet as ever.
Covered in black poison, we circle each other.
You gnash your teeth, foaming sputtering from your lips like some death-stalked animal, your hair long and falling into your eyes.
Your red, red eyes.
The only similarity that we've ever shared.
What are you thinking about? What sort of thoughts are crawling through that empty burrow inside of your head? Are you thinking about Nero? You've hardly glanced in his direction since all of this began.
You can tell what's happened to him, everything that he's been through, can't you?
Your scent is all over him, on his lips and tongue and under his clothes...
But no.
Oh no, that's not right at all.
Have you even noticed how pale his skin has gotten? His emaciated frame that has been haggard by bruises and cuts? His lightless demon hand grasping at the red-mouthed wound that still salivates?
Nothing on him heals anymore.
Just what are you going to do, Dante?
Tend to his injuries and lick his wounds after all of this is over?
What's this? What's happening?
' ? ' ?
Your breathing is getting erratic, is it too much for you?
It is, isn't it?
You're angry with me, I can tell.
The cause of all of this.
All of it.
ALL OF IT
You know I am guilty, so why are you taking so long to kill me, Dante?
With every failed attack, you have been giving me time to change, bit by bit.
Have you noticed at all?
Hair and skin lightening little by little, clothes morphing in hue and style from black to ashen grey.
I'm smiling at you with a mouth that you are familiar with yet seem to have no memory of the expression that it makes. It disturbs you, shakes your heart, and l feel playful and cruel and even part my lips to let you see my teeth.
"Hello, Dear Brother,"
With a flawless movement, I brush my argent-colored hair out of my eyes.
Eyes that are frosted blue, winter blue; colored like the sky and the sea and everything else that had fascinated and frightened the small minds of humanity for eons.
They fascinate and frighten you.
But not Nero.
I look down and see his addition to this scenario.
(I'm surprised that the child has the strength to move)
His once hidden vane; a long silver sword that he has pierced through me.
Like thread through the eye of a needle.
It is an intricate blade, delicately crafted, stained with my blood.
It does not hurt.
(Pain means Nothing)
(Painlessness is Power)
I look back at the boys bewildered expression, like a child caught red-faced in a poorly told lie.
He had expected more to become of this attack.
There was a bone-cracking noise as I brought my fist against his cheek, pulping the inside of his mouth against his teeth, making it soft.
I chuckled a gentle chuckle as he fell.
It sounds just like a different version of you, doesn't it, Dante?
Naughty, naughty.
"Look at this, Brother!" I speak to you in the voice of the beloved dead, shrugging my shoulders as I pull the blade from my insides. "He's so happy to see you again!"
Why are you looking at me that way?
Blanching and cow-eyed.
You make me sick.
The sword in my hands feels warm, and I know that it is not due to Nero's touch.
But something else.
My own giddiness at ending you, replaces my bile with a melody.
The stars are ringing and my soul is singing.
Tell me, Dante. How long do you think you will be able to live without your head?
What will be your first thought in death?
Anything coherent? Or will all of it be just babble?
You seem so tired. So wishful for sleep.
Don't fret.
It's time for bed, now.
It should have been quick.
It should have been painless.
But it is neither of those things, and you are still alive.
My arm is on the floor, still holding that sword.
A burst of blue light has made it so.
I tried to will out another appendage, just as I had always done…
(anything, anything)
A bat wing, a tentacle, the multi-jointed limb of an insect, but nothing came into fruition.
Nothing.
I'm just bleeding.
Against my will, my body starts to tremble. My skin tearing itself open. Rioting.
I look to see what has interrupted my victory.
Taking my eyes away from you and turning away.
"Near-"
Nero?
Every gesture is hypnotic.
Mesmerizing.
From the ripple of his scales to the psalm of his wings unfolding from his shoulders.
A neon phoenix back from the dead.
His hair as long as snowfall, glowing a fathomless and immaculate white.
But the true zenith of his beauty were his eyes, his aureate irises, made my own water.
Stunned to immobility, I dare not move.
(Is one allowed in the presence of god?)
I heard something made of flesh and fabric ripping loose, my body numb and jerking to one side as if someone had tugged on my shoulder for my attention.
My other arm is gone.
He took it, snapped it off as if it was never meant to be a part of me.
I start to fall.
He was holding me, cradling me in his arms, his large clawed talons supporting the back of my head, since I had not the strength to move anymore.
Nero puts my tooth into his mouth and cracks it apart as if it were the seed of the suns flower.
Are you enjoying the soft fleshy bits on the inside? The blood-flavored cream?
I worked hard making those teeth.
He was eating more of them the gums still attached to the hard white buds, Nero's movements so nonchalant that it looked as if he was picking blackberries from a dying bush.
I could still see the mark that I had left on his cheek.
Biting him like that, why did that feel like it was so long ago? Still an indelible slit, even his transformation could not hide how I had hurt him.
I can only smell myself, my rot. I cannot keep up my performance any longer, the curtain to this charade is finally falling.
An unbearable force overtook me, his shark-toothed mouth was open and devouring my own. I struggled feebly, uselessly, merely grunting as he bit off the tip of my tongue and pulled it into his mouth, his throat moving as he swallowed it.
He did not stop at just the tip.
Slowly, he sucked the rest of my tongue into his mouth, slurping it in, his teeth hooking into the meat so that I could not break free. All I could taste was blood and the barbaric tenderness of being eaten alive.
Do I taste good to you, Nero?
Is that why you're taking your time?
(No, that isn't it)
He only pulled away to breathe and chew, his mouth open with a mindless sort of contentment on his face, his eyes still glowing a harsh yellow.
He was not tasting, only eating.
That could be the mutts flesh in his mouth and he would not know the difference. There was no relishment or thorough enjoyment in the mastication of me. Just the loud wet squelch of his mouth opening and closing.
My lips, of course, were next.. The bottom bit of flesh sucked in between his teeth as if he were giving a playful kiss, but then he kept pulling.
And pulling.
And p .
Until my bottom teeth and gums were exposed and had not skin to protect them anymore.
I shivered in his arms, my jaw quivered a little as blood and spit drooled down my chin. So much of it, I could not stop its constant flow, swallowing did nothing at all.
Then my top lip was gone, disappeared inside of Nero's gore-drenched maw, it would be missed by no one but myself.
Who is this?
I could only stare at the thing, and walked up to get a better look.
Or rather…what is it?
What are you holding there in your claws, Nero?
Is it delectable?
You've hardly breathed since you started eating it. You're biting off bits of its clothing too, gagging yourself on slivers of a leather coat before you manage to masticate it into a sludge, a bulky sludge that slithers down your chin.
Nero, my boy, you look like you're in love.
Are you in love with this thing that you're eating, this pathetic slosh of meat?
…Nero?
Why won't you look at me, Nero?
Nero?
I reached out to touch him, to pull the bits of black flesh away from his shark-teeth but…
I had no hand to touch him with.
I looked down and saw that I had no feet on which to stand.
I opened my mouth, moved my tongue, but found that I was mute.
And I no longer cast a shadow.
I look over at the devil boy, at his fixed stare, his invariable gnawing motion like some demented rodent. I try to speak to him.
"Nero spit that out."
Why aren't you listening to me?
Now.
Spit it out.
Spit it out.
No, Nero, get rid of it. That's bad for you.
Let go of that.
Let go of me.
Let go.
Let Go. Let Go.
LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO. LET ME GO.
You're killing me.
Nero.
Near‑
I…
I'm sorry, Nero.
I…
Oh god…
I'm sorry.
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