As a regular disclaimer, I do not own any of these characters or their stuff unless otherwise stated.
"I will let you go," The white haired man huffed loudly in Maxi's ear, easing up just slightly. "No one will attack anyone," He stated firmly, a glance to Raphael who pursed his lips and nodded once. "You will tell us where this telephone is, then take us to shower and wash our clothing."
"Ay, fine," Maxi snorted, touching at the pale pink scar on his face where his lip had been previously split by Schweizer as the arms unlocked from around his head. "Don't over do it, old timer." He snorted and stood, moving his jaw in a circle as one hand came up to rub at it. Glancing up at them from beneath tired lashes, he stooped to retrieve his keys and motioned towards the dark. "Come this way."
CHAPTER 6: Nothing Else Matters
Standing with his back to the closed silk screen doors, Vergil bathed by the soft light of the pale moon which streamed in through an open balcony window. He dipped a sponge into the shallow pot of hot water and ran it over his bare skin, littered with pale scars, most of which only pained him in memory. The odd blue liquid from Morrigan's cavern mixed with the leftover algae from the pond, falling from his hair in clumps to the small tub he stood in.
Goosebumps rose on his skin as the clean water rapidly cooled. Wind kicked up through the Wolfberry trees and brought the scent of blossoms into his room. Vergil used several thin linen towels to dry himself, letting one drape around his damp shoulders as he approached the balcony and stood just inside the door. He rested one hand on the sill, inhaling deeply, pushing away the swell in his chest. Not now, He told himself and the inner Devil which is where Vergil considered his feelings dwelled. Inside that damnable Devil.
With a heavy sigh, he let his free hand rub at the sore spot over his right shoulder, pinching and pulling the muscle. As the knot released, Vergil felt slightly more relaxed, sighed, let his hand glide over the lean muscle of his torso, brushing against a dusty nipple, nails glinting over his navel. Nero's face flashed into his mind. The spitfire with wild blue eyes that watered beautifully whilst his mouth was plundered by Vergil's manhood. He didn't bother to swat the image away, inviting it instead in his moment of weak, slightly desperate touching.
His heavy legs began to tense as a hot coil built in his abdomen, blood rushing away from all extremities but one. The hand, which he imagined as Nero's lovely face, closed around his semi swollen shaft, squeezing softly at first, then a little harder. Vergil let out a barely audible moan into the still night, leaning heavily on the doorway as his free hand fisted into his swept back hair. The image of Nero bent over that wooden bench from Dante's room made his cock throb.
Without his prompting, Nero's smooth complexion morphed into that of the nobleman, Raphael Sorel. His older, more distinguished features were elegant, sweating and pleading with Vergil who approached with a studded paddle. The demon within told Vergil to sink his weeping red member into the blonde sans mercy, plunge his teeth into the other man's neck and mark him as owned by the great Vergil Sparda.
In his fantasy, the white haired devil did just that, suckling at Raphael's neck, blood pouring over their naked bodies while he rutted wildly with the man beneath him. The blonde's buttocks were hot, red, and Vergil imagined smoothing a hand over the heated flesh to cool it with own icy touch. He climaxed to the image of the subdued yet powerful man beneath him, ejaculate squirting over his fingers to splatter the window sill and shoot out the balcony. Vergil moaned, biting into the flesh of his bicep, curling his head inward to muffle the noise. His legs went slack and he slid down the wall to his knees, taking short jagged gasps.
Sweat beaded up on his pale brow and slipped down his skin in fine cool drops to the dry floor. Soft knocking on the silk screen to his small room startled the elder Sparda brother from his post sexual stupor. He managed to stand, drape a towel around his slim waist and make his way to the door without dropping to the floor again. He slid the screen open expecting to find a maid there with his clothing.
Instead, Xianghua stood holding his attire and bowed shallowly. A light blush crept over her cheeks as she glimpsed the older man's naked flesh. "Please forgive me, I just wanted to be sure you had everything you need."
He quickly took up the bundle, holding it in front of him as though it could take back what the girl had already viewed. Vergil after all wasn't seductively flashy like Dante. The horse's ass. He nodded a thank you, stomach growling but he wasn't about to bother the girl for food in the middle of the night. She hesitated at the door even as he went to close it and Vergil paused.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
Xianghua pursed her lips, glancing down either side of the long dark hallway before dragging her doe eyes back up to his face and nodded solemnly. With a resigned sigh, he waved one hand invitingly for her to enter and slid the screen shut. He dressed quickly then sat on the opposite side of the small table on a zabuton. Legs crossed, he flourished one hand and gave a nod to the girl.
She let out a sigh, looking down at her lap as she pulled a folded slip of parchment from her sleeve. "I have received word that my son has run away from his village." Xianghua wiped a tear from the corner of her left eye and glanced at the open window, which Vergil noted with a touch of embarrassment, still had ejaculate on the sill. Whether she noticed or not he had no idea, for she continued. "Hearing of the coming battle of Siegfried's assassins, he left to protect his people. I fear death for him should he find Soul Edge and those who seek it."
With a slight shake of his head, Vergil said, "No, I doubt the boy would be in harm's way. Soul Edge is difficult even for the most powerful of mages to find." He was lying a little to try to protect her, though he didn't know why.
"He is a headstrong young man," She insisted, holding the slip out to him. "Just like his father, Kilik."
Raising an eyebrow at that name, Vergil leant forward and gently plucked the parchment from her small fingers and unfolded it. Two words were scrawled in perfect calligraphic script: Xiba Pinyin. "This is your son?"
Xianghua nodded and took a deep breath, "Yes. If you find Xiba on your journey, I beg you, convince him to return home, where it is safe."
"I cannot promise-" Vergil began to protest but the girl, the petite woman really, not a girl at all though she looked it to him, put up a hand and nodded with her eyes closed.
"I know, no one can promise to change his stubborn mind." A sad smile played on her lips and she lowered her hand to her lap. "Do try at the least, please."
With a sigh, Vergil pursed his lips and nodded. "I shall do my utmost, madam."
She nodded, stood, smoothed her fine blue silk dress, and made her way to the screen. Stepping out into the hall, once more glancing down both ways, Xianghua placed a hand on the doorway and halted Vergil's attempt to close it. He nearly growled in irritation, but did his best to swallow it and empathize. He waited.
"One more thing," Another suspicious glance down the hall to either side before she whispered, "Please do not tell Xiba I am his mother."
One of his snow white eyebrows arched. "He does not know?"
A small shake of her head and the mother was rushing off in the direction from whence she came.
The week long journey to the outreaches of bustling Shanghai was headed by an elderly Chinese man who knew the mountains like the backs of his withered hands. Every crevice and creek of the wilderness had meaning and memory for Ling Xiaoyu, who told them to just call him, Yu. Most of the time, the two foreigners traveled together on the back of one horse, while Yu led them on another, much larger horse.
They crossed shallow rivers on horseback, bypassed small villages where they would only be taking food from hungry locals by stopping, and camped beneath the stars. Little talking happened between any of them. Raphael and Vergil didn't talk to each other for fear of anything specific they said falling to the wrong ears, and Yu didn't talk because he didn't like to.
Several times they would encounter a local warrior who wanted to test their mettle, but Yu was having none of it. He would go to the fighter, they all knew him somehow, and talk them down with few words. Not that Raphael or Vergil were wary to fight, they simply didn't have the time and Yu didn't have the patience.
When the edges of the nearest urban area were visible, what the men learned soon enough was the Dong Ming Residential District, Yu stopped the horses and said he would go no further. He left without accepting any form of payment from them, which was at best peculiar, but the men didn't protest since they had little to offer besides cash which Yu found insignificant and neither were about to part with weapons. The old man left with a single bow, the smaller horse in tow of the larger one, disappearing over the crest of the hill.
Sun had begun to set in the west, blinding them as they walked towards the city, grimy and exhausted. They walked until their worn boots met cement sidewalks, until neon lights advertised dry cleaning and restaurants, all the way until they reached the first lodging with a vacant sign on the clean white billboard outside.
A large glass building advertised rooms at the GreenTree Inn Shanghai Pudong. Raphael strode in first through the revolving doors to a brightly lit yellow and gold lobby where several smiling faces greeted them tightly. Vergil suspected it had to do with their rather unkempt appearances...and the smell. Their smells were admittedly terrible.
He cast curious glances around the lower level while Raphael made accommodations with the front desk. The sign to his left told Vergil food was that way and his stomach made a resounding gurgle in reply, barely registering Sorel stating, "I need to place a call to the states."
A phone was slid over to them at the side of the counter as a group of tourists filtered into the lobby. Several small children and their parents haggling with each other over who carried what as they approached the front desk. The phone was plopped before the men, Raphael sliding it over to Vergil who scowled and leant over the counter, plugging one ear with a finger after dialing the number and pressing the receiver to his other side.
With his first call, Vergil dialed United Emirates and used his singular credit card to pay for two tickets from Sea/Tac Airport to Shanghai. They only had layovers and the tickets were an exorbitant amount but money was of little concern to the elder Sparda brother, and he knew Dante wouldn't pay for the tickets. But he would have to pay the bribe to sneak their weapons through security.
With Vergil's second call, he dialed the number to Devil May Cry. To his slight dismay, it was his former lover who answered the phone. He did his best to shout to Nero where to go, but he wasn't sure the boy even understood his words through the cacophony behind him.
Irritated, Vergil spun to shout at the scoundrel pulling on his jacket, only to be bombarded by an entire brood. The children climbed on each other and tugged toys away from the smallest of the bunch, much crying ensued, the phone dropped from his hand and clattered over to the far side of the counter when a child fell against him.
"Confound it!" Vergil shouted, the group ignored him, but shuffled slightly further away as the adults arranged for rooms. With a flick of his hand, he ordered the woman at the front desk to retrieve the fallen phone.
She gave him a 'One moment please, sir,' hand gesture and he still rolled his eyes with a huff. Vergil Sparda was exhausted, ravenous, and smelled like a train station. His patience was wearing as thin as Dante's intelligence. Nearly non existent.
After what felt like a small eternity, the receptionist handed them the phone and Vergil called again, this time speaking to a rather irritating and defiant Dante. Having to repeat himself several times over the ruckus at the desk behind him, Vergil was nearly fuming by the time he'd made sure his point and urgency was understood, giving Dante as little information as possible over the phone.
When his idiot brother announced they wouldn't be flying using the tickets Vergil had already paid for, he had to use a third call to cancel them. The refund being 25% less than what he paid, which only made him more sour.
He snatched up a room service menu with the door keycard before they headed up to the fourth floor, taking rooms across the hall from each other. The Sparda sighed in relief, calling upon room service as soon as he was inside, then immediately turning on the hot shower to wash while the food was prepared.
With impeccable timing as always, Vergil was stepping out of the standing bath as three knocks resounded at the door. He tied a downy periwinkle robe around his slim frame and strode quickly to the door, pleasantly surprised to find Raphael waiting with two cloches.
"I told the boy I'd bring it to you."
They traded tired smiles, Vergil waving silently with one hand for him to enter, the trays placed on bedside tables. Though before the cloche tops had been removed, Raphael spun on his heel. Face to face, Vergil stopped dead in his tracks as one of Raphael's hands came up slowly, the backs of his long fingers grazing up the slayer's cheek to his ear. A flash of the image from the previous week when Vergil had his last alone time made blood rush south.
The hand flipped over, a thumb was rubbing over Vergil's bottom lip while his own arms hung limply at his sides. His skin began to tingle. The slayer parted his lips and invited the warm slightly calloused digit, humming pleasantly as it pressed against his tongue, tasting rosemary and salt, watching as Raphael's own lips parted in a soft gasp. Their eyes both half-lidded, the blonde pushed his thumb deeper into Vergil's mouth and stepped impossibly close; the toes of his boots mere centimeters from Vergil's bare feet.
Breath mingled, the air conditioner turned on and blasted them from the left. Vergil didn't dare to look down and see how close he was to grinding his own hot stiffened flesh against Raphael, for in a brief moment, Nero's face super-imposed itself over Sorel's. And though Vergil knew he had no oath to Nero any longer, the young man was not his lover, somehow, the elder Sparda brother just wasn't ready yet. The fantasy had been a simple act of carnal desperation before, but now with the blonde there before him, it felt wrong.
He took several steps back, the other man's thumb slipping out of his mouth with a wet POP, saliva sliding down to Raphael's wrist before he slowly lowered his hand and shifted uncomfortably in his slacks. For obvious reasons.
Vergil had to swallow several times before he could speak, clutching his robe closed tightly with one hand. "I'm sorry, but I think you should go."
Dropping his eyes to the floor, Vergil felt shame and embarrassment wash over him as the nobleman exhaled and grunted, not bothering to utter anything besides a soft, "Apologies," Before striding to the door and exiting as quietly as possible. Passing an exhausted, ragged glance around the room, Vergil tsked himself and gave a self-pitying eyeroll. Raphael hadn't even taken his cloche of dinner.
Vergil awoke early with the ache in his spine chilling and sharp. He ignored it, took a steaming shower and tried not to think about what transpired the night before. Despite what had occurred, or not occurred he supposed, they had a purpose to fulfill. He dressed quickly but didn't eat, finding he had no appetite at all though he forced down a cup of hot Earl Gray before stepping out to the hall.
The sun was barely up and he expected to be the first one awake, however as Vergil strode around the bottom of the hotel to occupy some time before check out, he saw Sorel at the back of the small on-site gymnasium. Pausing a moment at the window, the blonde's back turned to him as he slowly lifted barbells up to his chin and down, Vergil held his breath and watched. Smooth planes of muscle rippled, bulged, pulled taught, flexed and relaxed in slow, calculated movements beneath a white tank vest and black shorts.
He knew he should walk away but it was nearly impossible to move his eyes away from Raphael's body. Blood rushed to his groin; the taste and texture of the other man's thumb in his mouth was visceral and only added to Vergil's surprise arousal. Shifting in his tight blue snakeskin pants, he saw Raphael lower the barbells to the floor and decided his peeping hour was up. He snuck away back to his room to press a cold cloth against his face.
At one o'clock Vergil's phone rang and Dante's grumpy voice told him they'd be arriving in Shanghai by four pm. Slightly awestruck he asked, "Where are you calling from?"
"A little fast food joint in Queensland."
"Australia?" The elder brother quirked an eyebrow. "How?"
"I flew."
"You said you weren't taking a plane."
"Jesus Christ," His grotesque younger sibling barked through the ear piece. "You and Nero are both really dumb for bein' such smart guys. I flew." Dante emphasized, and Vergil felt his own pupils dilate in surprise.
"Triggered?"
"How else?"
"That's a long way to fly, brother."
"Aw, is that concern I hear in your voice, Vergy?"
"Hn," Vergil snorted and rolled his eyes though he didn't deny it. "Good, this afternoon then. What we need first is currently being held in the National Museum of China. We'll meet at a coffee shop just outside at the parking lots."
"What is it we're getting?"
"A pair of Devil Arms. Originally said to have been created for King Algol by the patron deity of blacksmithing himself, Kagutsuchi, using portions of both Soul Edge and the Holy Stone."
A scoff. "That true?"
"Doubtful, brother." They chuckled a little together lightly for a moment, then Vergil realized he hadn't heard Nero in the background at all. "Is everything going alright...there?" He was wary to be more specific. He heard a shuffle noise like crumpling paper bags briefly.
"Honestly, no. The brat's a fucking...well, brat!" Dante snorted, obviously with a mouthful of food by the way his words slurred together. "At one point I put a charm on his ass to zombie mode him. Basically asleep but I can feed him and he can go piss by himself."
"Christ Dante," Vergil sneered, disgusted that his brother would so callously remove another person's will that way. "Of all the-"
"-Oh spare me, Vergy the Saint," The red slayer spat over the receiver. "I've only ever done it this time, and I wasn't even sure it'd work. I had to find a way to carry his ass over the pacific without us killing each other."
After a short awkward pause, he persued the issue, "It's that bad between the two of you?"
"God, don't sound so happy about it, bro."
"I'm not," But Vergil's protest was weak and they both heard it.
Dante sighed. "I dunno what's wrong. When I ask he clams up, won't talk to me. It drives me fuckin' crazy. I can't help the kid if he won't talk!"
"Perhaps when he does talk you put a zombie charm on him?" Silence for a moment. Vergil smirked to himself.
"So anyway we'll be there in a few hours."
"Fine."
"Oh, and Vergy?"
"Yes, Dante?"
"Fuck you."
Raphael's demeanor was his usual cold, composed self when Vergil knocked on his door after the call with Dante. They barely spoke and when they did it was all necessity, Raphael leading with his head high and a constant, soft frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The Sparda followed a few paces back, not because he didn't know where they were going, but because he felt ashamed. He wanted to apologize, but how? What would he say, and when? Would it even mean anything? He had no idea, and every time he looked up to stare at the back of the blonde man's head, Nero's bright blue eyes were staring back. Why couldn't he get over that boy?! That boy who had betrayed and humiliated him.
Vergil shook the thoughts away as best he could and focused on their surroundings. The subway was packed with more people than Vergil had ever seen together. He despised it, entering the car with a pursed scowl and one hand flat over his abdomen, the other automatically coming up to brush reassuringly over his neatly combed hair while ducking through the car's doorway.
The plus of Raphael's magick green orb was that they had nothing to carry in public places. That also happened to be the downside of the orb. Vergil now only had snide looks and terse words to discourage people from interacting with him, not the immediate threat of Yamato. Still, he rode with some kind of faux positive feeling that at least they were making progress. He hadn't yet told Sorel about the request Xianghua made for her son Xiba, but he figured they would have plenty of time for that later.
The thought of sitting down with his former lover and his brother made Vergil bristle visibly. He didn't feel ready to see Dante and Nero yet, especially together. It hadn't been long, and the cut of betrayal ran deep in his chest and mind. He really had never thought Nero capable. But then he supposed love could make one do crazy things. It was too bad Nero hadn't been in love with Vergil instead, for as much as he liked Raphael immediately and found him devilishly attractive, Nero still resided in the blue clad half devil's icy heart. A large part of it was, without Vergil's approval, dedicated to the spitfire who challenged Vergil while still loving him in odd and special ways. Things he tried not to think about, but the past has a way of making itself remembered. Particularly the parts you want no part remembering.
Then a tug on his jacket tail rattled Vergil back to reality. He looked down to find a small child with sticky red hands reaching up to touch the gold embroidery around the buttons of his coat. Sneering automatically, Vergil stepped back, bumping into Raphael at the corner. The blonde man's hands came up to catch him, squeezing at his bicep and lingering a moment longer than necessary as the blue devil righted himself and uttered an apology.
Their car pulled to a stop, Raphael grabbing Vergil by the elbow as he pushed through the crowd and pulled the slightly taller man behind. He found he rather liked the warmth of the blonde's hand seeping through the silk of his jacket, hardly paying mind to where they were walking until they were out of the throng of people and Raphael's hand disappeared. Following the nobleman across a small platform and up a set of stairs, they were finally met with fresh wind and bustling city goers.
Walking for only a few blocks, Raphael followed Vergil this time toward the China Art Museum. They crossed a series of intersections, soft wind blowing easterly, waiting in only a short line and paying no fee for admission.
They walked quickly but not hastily to the rear left corner of the museum where a historic art exhibit of glass, bronze and gold sculptures perched precariously on small red pedestals. But Vergil wrinkled his brow and turned to the blonde beside him who also stood silently appraising the items at the back.
"Raphael, this is the Chinese Museum."
"Yes."
"Why are there Japanese items here?"
Sorel gave a small smirk, just the corner of his mouth raising. "You are very perceptive." But didn't answer the question.
The tallest of the pedestals lay behind the others, rising at the back with two large yet delicate, ornamental forging tools. One was a Japanese Swordsmith's Hammer, and one Chisel, both with handles adorned with bats in red and gold, perfectly preserved.
"What are they?" Vergil asked, "The Devil Arms?"
Raphael shrugged rather carelessly, "I have no idea. But we must wait until the museum has closed to come back for them. Too many witnesses for now." He murmured. "I just wanted to have a look at them myself."
"You mean you've never seen them before now?"
"Never. Only heard of them. I suspected they were a myth, just like Z.W.E.I. But clearly I was wrong."
"How did you know they were here?"
"The very same reason you asked me about."
"The pieces being Japanese in origin?"
"Yes. Word gets around in odd circles." Raphael cast a coy wink but said no more, spinning on a heel and heading back towards the exit. They walked around to the rear of the museum where a row of shops and restaurants sat to the left of a large parking lot, beginning to cross a small intersection towards the coffee shop. Then Raphael stepped up on a curb, stopped, and allowed the white haired man to continue on.
That scent...Sorel sniffed hard at the air, spinning in a half circle to the right and pausing. His pupils dilated at the sight of vermilion hair curled into pigtails, tucked beneath a small black lace bonnet. The fluffy skirts of a black and pink Lolita dress disappeared around a corner. It couldn't be, but…
Taking a chance, forgetting that he had been following Vergil Sparda, he stepped back down off the curb to cross the street again. He'd made it a few steps towards the far side but a hand grabbed his bicep and tugged him to a halt. Raphael spun with surprise to see Vergil staring hard at him.
"It's this way," The Sparda motioned over his shoulder with a nod.
"I'm," Raphael glanced back at the store the dress, possibly his adoptive daughter's dress, had gone around, then back to Vergil as he pointed. "I'm stopping in Sunjia Li Clothing. My blouse," With one hand he motioned to the torn fabric of his shirt and Vergil let go of his elbow.
"Oh, I see." Vergil hesitated, then motioned with one elegant hand towards the store, "Shall I-"
"No," The blonde answered quickly. Almost too quickly. He took a breath. "Go on ahead. I'll be there, post haste." Raphael nodded and took a few quick steps backward, making sure Vergil wasn't following.
"Meet us there," Vergil called and received a single reassuring wave in response. He sighed, assuming Raphael was angry or upset with him, and continued on towards the coffee shop, being the first to arrive at the cafe since they still had roughly an hour before Dante and Nero were scheduled to arrive. He ordered black coffee, added a pinch of salt, sitting at the rear corner with his back towards the door and his peripheral honed in on the front windows.
But after two hours of waiting, Vergil became agitated and got up to pace for a moment before he earned scowls and sat back down. He didn't want to leave and miss Nero and Dante making them wait if they happened to show when he left, but Raphael still had not yet returned. A deep sense of worry enveloped his gut and he made a quick decision to leave word with Dante and Nero, then go check for the other. However as soon as he stood, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Raphael sniffed the air harder and strode up the street, whichever one he was currently on he had no idea, and turned quickly around the corner of the clothing store. Multitudes of shoppers and business executives crossed going both ways and though the scent of Amy was still very vaguely floating in the air, he couldn't see her vermilion hair or her black lace bonnet.
"Damn," The blonde muttered to himself, glancing back once the way Vergil had continued on, and deciding to just take a look for a moment. He walked in the direction of the lingering odor, but it quickly dissipated and he was left standing in the middle of a busy street, spinning slowly in a circle. Store fronts everywhere and not one sign of Amy. Perhaps it had all been in his head, a figment of his desperate imagination to save her, or maybe she was already…. "No." Raphael refused to finish the thought even in his head and wiped a hand over his face as he turned in one more circle.
His eye caught another clothing store further north, a store for young women. A store that possibly carried things a girl such Amy would like. With a small swell of hope in the bottom of his chest, Raphael headed straight for it. He pushed past people, shouldered someone without glancing down to see them stumble, fall to the ground and cry out for help. Raphael cared only for Amy, his thoughts singular in their purpose. The further up the street Raphael walked, the closer he got to the entrance of the store, the dingier and more unkempt the streets and buildings became. The scent of urine and decay hung in the air.
Then his heart dropped to the bottom of his ribcage as he read the paper note on the glass front, "Please Use Side Door." He couldn't explain the chill he felt from it, but pushed the feeling aside as he stepped past the last few pedestrians on the sidewalk and rounded the corner where the shop's glass front windows became covered in brown and black paper.
The alley way was dark, another shiver crossed his shoulders, a chill, shadows seemed to swirl around his head and a quiver shot through his gut. Raphael saw no side door. He spun again back towards the entrance to the alley only to find two silent figures standing in his way.