Devil May Cry 5: Would you fight for me?
Written By: Lady Lunar Phoenix
A/N: They're at the bottom.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
"How... peculiar..." Vergil commented idly as he held up his hand against the back drop of darken skies. His long, pale fingers standing out with black fingerless gloves instead of his dark blue. The silver rings dully attempting to shine in the half light of false light and hell. As he examined it with all the attention given as though it was the first time he saw it. "Dante what happened?"
Dante frowned at the question. If Vergil switched back when he lost his concentration, then why hadn't he reverted back to normal? If he was still in 'this' form and just as almost whimsically off as he was when they first met. Making Dante quietly study his twin. "Well who am I talking to? Vergil or V?"
The annoyance in those green eyes was Vergils', but it wasn't his face... "I should have transformed back... Yet I'm still like this," Vergil pushed himself into a sitting position. The bits of rock and dirt that had pressed against back of his arms slowly peeled off. The tattoos that marked his contract with his familiars were still absorbed into his skin.
But the personalities and identities that went with the familiars were absent. They were silent now, not even Griffon's raucous laughter remained. He had copied their forms and functions as he recalled them from V. Yet as with his memories, what made them 'who' they were was gone, leaving an empty spot where pain and suffering once rested. A void he couldn't fathom how to fill on his own.
"Well, I came to, the hourglass was gone and so were you. I jumped down from the tower looking for you and saw..." Dante braced himself to say 'that'. "A number of Nelo Angelos hovering around your sleeping beauty self. Looked like they took something from you, since I never saw you wearing gold as V."
"That's not what they're called," Vergil noted looking over at his twin, through the veil of demonic ink dipped black hair. "They're called 'Nero'..." He paused as he saw Dante look away and he wasn't so blind as to not see the connection. "You changed it yourself."
"What was I supposed to do? He said that he had been named after the blanket he was found wrapped in," Dante explained. "He didn't need to have his name tied to one of Mundus' 'creations'."
Just the name alone caused Vergil to growl and twisted his features to something more feral as he began to visually sweep the area. Expecting to see the demon step out from behind one of the recreated walls. The area appeared to be a city street, ruined by a different tower than the one they ascended. Fury and anger brought Griffon and Shadow into existence, while taking a good amount of ink off Vergil's body.
They were silent though, the wise cracking seemingly non stop motor mouth of Griffon was even silent. He, or it, burst into existence on Vergil's shoulder, voiceless it kept scanning the area as a second pair of eyes. While Shadow, who had always been silent, rose from a mist of black ink into its powerful panther form. It began pacing around Vergil, weaving between him and Dante in a figure eight eyes also seeking any possible threat.
The action freed Vergil into going back to thinking about what Dante described. Once he lost his concentration he should have changed back, even unconscious. He could imagine the Angelos would have stolen Yamato and flown off. His gaze began to slowly take in their surroundings, the appearance of a city street, abandoned and ruined. Tattered posters hung forlorn of the walls, businesses and damaged cars all of it at an incline towards the tower.
"If this is based on the hourglass that got damaged, all I can theorize with what little I have seen, is that this is time related." Vergil frowned as he looked down at his hands, taking in the black leather pants, the thin leather cord that held the loose coat together. "Could they have stolen my time from me? Froze me in this state of being? Could the hour glass have the power to bring 'that' here?" He asked as he pointed at the tower with the handle of his cane.
'The tower where I let you fall,' Dante was left thinking to himself as he turned to look up at the self same tower. He pushed himself to his feet, before turning to face the direction he saw the Angelos fly off in. "I guess I need to get your hourglass back then," he finally announced as the scraping sound of leather against dirt alerted him that Vergil had also stood up.
"'You'..." Vergil began, acidic displeasure dripping in his voice. "You would have me wait for you here?" 'Abandoned again am I?'
"Vergil if I devil trigger I can go a lot faster than you can. Now that tower makes for a handy way to find you once I get back, so take a break. I mean you've been dead for..." Dante stumbled over 'dead', his voice breaking before he finally managed to get himself back under control. "I'll be back, I promise..."
'I need to find Vergil, I'll be back I promise...'
It was abnormal to hear Dante use words that could mollify his emotions, yet Vergil found himself unable to stay angry. Dante may worry over his friends, but Vergil? No, Vergil always stood alone... Yet... "Very well... I'll wait brother. But do not tarry long, I am not one who takes pleasure in being in one spot for long. Least of all here in the Underworld..."
Dante gave a weak breezy smile as he manifested his sword, fire igniting as his Devil sword came into being before impaling him. The flames erupted out of his brothers' body the way lava erupted from under solid earth, exploding outward and transforming Dante into his Sin form. Wings unfurled before the suddenly ignited air was used to lift him off the ground. Sending Dante rocketing into the sky and leaving Vergil alone in this strange mock up of a long destroyed city.
The backdraft of air from Dantes' departure sent a few scraps of paper skirting across the ground and into the air. Beyond that there was no other demons rising up from the ground around him, or scrambling over the transformed landscape. Yet there was also 'no one' else around either, despite the fact that he had not returned the familiars, they were ever silent. Replicas of vessels that carried the memories that he abandoned. Dreams that tried to help V survive being abandoned. Then chose the path of death to protect Vergil, himself, from the worst of his life.
No life or passion was in the yellow or blood red eyes, they were methodical without soul and it annoyed him. V was never alone really with that thought in mind, be it the familiars or those children. Urizen spent his whole time alone. Thus Vergil was left pondering which he preferred, if Vergils' logic had been filtered through his demonic pride, or Urizen's identity for simplicity. Then the simplicity of solitude was the best option. Only thanks to V not decaying into dust upon release, having the lions' share of Vergil's mind to start with... And embolden by the 'nephew' who had, unknowingly gave V a life line.
Silence consumed the air around him, the papers having resettled onto the ground. Memories of RedGrave after the tree had bloomed came unbidden to his mind. Empty streets, and towering buildings, red roses with mouths in the center hungrily waiting for a naive fool to approach too close and be drained of their blood. Ash falling from the sky and husks of humans dotting the landscape. There should have been life, activity, people all around, yet instead it was in ruins, constructs standing in mockery.
Tables still upright as though there was going to be someone sitting at it soon enough, balloons waiting where they had been tethered, either to draw attention or to be passed on to a child...
A child...
Longing for the old Griffon's raucous chatter or his sons' own brand of commentary. Nero wasn't super talkative like his uncle, instead he spoke when there was something to speak 'of' then stayed silent otherwise. Companionship was still company, Vergil had adapted his life to being alone. Nothing got done if he didn't do it himself yet if there was someone else...
But there was no choice, Vergil didn't have any desire to share a memory with his familiars. Likely as not, exposed to a memory they would start to build their own identities, be it the same or similar to the original familiars. Give them Urizen's and nothing would likely come of it, give them V's... 'I would be free of that influence.'
V wasn't 'active' but the touch was there, in the lively nature of Vergils' Doppelganger, it was in the way his mind kept drifting back to the boy. But if he gave V to them, it would mean listening to his humanity nonstop. Already V's presence was becoming a hindrance, with a drowning mixture of shame, regret, and longing surfacing when he thought of Nero.
'Foolishness, all of it foolishness!' he thought in growing irritation. 'I lived by hand to mouth, how could I feed a newborn...'
He shouldn't have thought of that.
Imagining an infant Nero, starving to death in his arms, or killed during a fight froze Vergil to his core. A tiny little baby with gaunt cheeks instead of their natural fullness. Skin dipping between tiny ribs, or just outright torn to pieces. His small body hanging from some feral demons' bloody jaws, one of the endless squads that hunted Vergil like an animal. One that snuck behind Vergil as he was fighting...
This was why he hated and casted out V.
Demons didn't care for their useless young. Sparda didn't, after all, once the estate burned he went on with his life. Never looking to reclaim his sons, and Vergil should have been easier to find with the Yamato and awaken at eight. Even the Sparda chose to protect Dante when he had lost to Urizen, while the Yamato did not afford such a shield to Vergil. No... if he were a demon Nero wouldn't matter. But V was his humanity made manifest and he cared. Oh how he cared, and now Vergil...
'I always cared... Just let me bury these feelings...'
"Dante come back..." he whimpered as he sank to his knees. Growing mindless in his desperation to stop his thoughts from the path they were gleefully walking. The macabre images of a dead infant, either from starvation or a demon. Or taken from him by some institution who would condemn Vergil for his failings as a father. Or there was always Dante, he would. No different than when they were kids, if Dante wanted something no one could stop him. He'd take Nero just to make Vergil bow to his wishes. For 'humanity'.
His gaze went up at the tower, as he remembered. How easily Dante could bisect him and declare he would kill Vergil for the sake of humanity. If Nero had been an infant when they met, would he have had trouble replacing Vergil as the boy's father? From the depths of his soul a chuckle started to work its way up his throat. Griffon's wingbeats did nothing to fill the silence, and Shadow's pacing was being drowned out by a noise in Vergil's head.
For the first time since he had learned that Nero was his son, Vergil was finally alone with his thoughts. Leaving only the maddening laughter of hysteria to echo and bound off the brick walls and dirt ground. Even the shadows of the place seemed to retreat from Vergil as he knelt there. He laughed, clutching the recreated cane to his chest as he started to rock back and forth. Laughing until he was out of breath and wheezing to laugh. Until his body ached and his eyes were blind to all from the tears that spilled out unbidden.
'This wasn't the story I was going to write...' he thought, trying to pull his thoughts back under his control. 'Dante was supposed to kill me in the end. Send me back unto death and should he fail; 'his' son should have avenged him. The righteous hero triumphant over his villainous brother, the world saved yet again by a 'hero'.' But that wasn't the only scenario he had, there was the one where Nero would do the deed. Distraught at the death of his adored father he would fly into a rage and set after his evil uncle. Fueled by the betrayal when he learned he had been led by said uncles' 'humanity', he'd take up his fathers' sword and kill his already weakened uncle in a blind fury.
The Dante would bisect him, with his own healing abilities negated in his devil form he would be left collapsing on the ground. Bleeding out with only the Yamato in hand, and the dying tree under his cheek. Thick boots would tread easily over the ashen ground while faintly in the distance, over the sound of his weakening heart beat, another set of footsteps would join.
"Aw couldn't you have waited! I wanted a piece of that bastard, too, Dante!" Nero's voice would approach as Dante would pull the Yamato out of Vergils' weakening grip.
"Sorry kid, but hey I got your sword back!" Dante answered easily.
The world would start turning gray against the sickly pale white of the dying tree. Hot blood would bubble up past his lips before spilling out. Just him, a dying tree and a lone wind drifting through until the world went black once more.
A fire in his belly finally forced his madden laughter to tone down to a quiet whimper. The tears he didn't pay much mind to but eased up on their own. Kneeling on the road, the bits of rock barely felt through the leather pants he wore, when suddenly he felt something. A small something that tugged at him, insistent but not unpleasant. It felt like Yamato, but he had impaled himself with the blade, so he knew it couldn't be that. It called his attention to the tower, and he distantly remembered.
"There's a library in there... If I must wait... why not go and see how complete this illusion is by finding something to read?" He wiped the wetness from his face as he turned to look at his familiars, both as silent as gravestones even as one flew and the other paced. Rising unsteadily to his feet, Vergil began walking towards the tower, his foot steps, the sharp strike of the cane, and the flap of Griffon's wings the only sound. While at the same time he tried to occupy his thoughts that... a random thought from something Dante spoke of came to mind...
'Where 'had' Vergil been?'
'I remember dying at Dante's hands faintly... So how did I revive, or more importantly, 'why' did I revive?' Those memories weren't the ones that went with the familiars and even then he couldn't quite lock in on it. What 'had' motivated a dead man to wake up and drag his corpse out of the Underworld back into the Human one? True he wanted Yamato returned to him, but there had to be 'something' to make him bother opening his eyes again.
'Demons don't resurrect, well... that one does,' he thought to himself. Clawing at these thoughts in a mad cap attempt to free himself from Nero's grasp. So he followed the external feeling thoughtlessly, as he walked towards where he knew the front doors of the tower to be. Without thought sending his fingers into his hair, to try and push back the ink soaked locks. Only to have it fall right back into place out of seeming spite.
He could recall the real tower, and the cold air that swirled up around it back all those years ago. Now, in the Underworld, the air was stagnate and with a dried over warmth. The kind of warmth that came from blood that had dried, thick, with a sticky crusted mixture. "I suppose demons can, after a sufficient amount of time, be reborn. As many as have been slain by myself or by Dante, this world is far too prolific for such little in the way of procreation."
Demons often rose from the ground before they started approaching, and it was plausible that the land itself was spawning them. But that would question where their source was. There were no books on the nature of the Demon World, every demon with a functioning brain merely accepted it as fact. Humans were the types that needed to know everything and never satisfied with things as they were.
Griffon glided soundlessly along the stagnant wind, with Shadow tailing Vergil as he walked along. Desperately fixating on any and all thoughts that would afford him to not think about Nero. Allow him to avoid what he had done, and what he had never had a chance to do. Leaving Vergil to his dark and lonely thoughts, the distance to the front of the tower was eaten in chunks.
The architecture was lost to the darkness above his head, nor did Vergil look up really. Instead past a bar and down an avenue, if not for the stench of corpses and the nature of the Underworld. He might have forgotten that he was there. Broken glass, broken walls, shattered roads all around him, it felt 'right' to be around such destruction. He fit this place so well, broken and dead yet alive once more, with no clue how any of this came about.
"I suppose to anyone else this would be a gift," he noted sardonically as the front of the doors to the tower loomed ahead of him. "To be alive once more, and able to resume their existence. But I have nothing to go back to, and nothing to my name... I merely have Yamato, and the knowledge that I sired a son..." Pausing before the doors he stared up, leaning back enough that even his long bangs were forced to bow to gravity and slide back so he could look upon his hubris better.
"Hello father, the unwanted son is back..." A dark smile crossed his face as he lowered his gaze back to the door.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Authors Notes: So this is where I'm going to stick my thoughts and such when I finish a chapter... And warn people. So I've seen all the game story lines. But I haven't read the novels and only have been reading the translations of Visions of V. And I feel I need to explain that because the novels have a tendency to retcon and try to justify stuff that happens in the game rather badly. I won't bother with them at all.
Basically. If you want a Disney cleaned up, soft, pleasant, idyllic fan fic that gives you warm and fuzzy feelings. If this chapter didn't start warning you, I will now. Dante is no puppy, Eva and Sparda are not saints in this fic. Using as much as what I can glean from the games and building off of that to reason out how Vergil ended up so fucked up and where he can go from here. Is not going to be 'nice'. I strive for 'fair' not 'nice'.