(Please see the end of the chapter for notes. Thanks!)

Vergil didn't curse, as a rule.

It wasn't that he was too polite; on the contrary, he was capable of flaying a target with words as effectively as with his sword. But of the motley assortment that made up the ever-expanding Devil May Cry roster, Vergil was the least likely to employ profane language to do so.

Nero was accustomed to hearing a fair amount of profanity when he was out with the full team. Dante's speech was casually coarse. Trish and Lady weren't above swearing, though they were more likely to invent creative euphemisms than throw four-letter words around. Nico was unilaterally insulting, her profane epithets ranging from the sexual to the personal. Nero himself was probably the foulest-mouthed of the lot—provided Kyrie was out of earshot.

Vergil, however, spoke only when necessary, and was careful to match the strength of his words to the situation that required them. He labeled things as he saw them: This bickering is meaningless, he'd say, instead of telling the rowdy crew to shut up. Foolishness was just that. If Vergil used a stronger word, the circumstances assuredly merited it.

So when Vergil saw their opponent and let out a startled, "Oh, shit," Nero knew that things were about to go to hell.

It had started innocently enough. Not that anything was ever innocent with this crew—more than half of them were, after all, descendants of the underworld, which made the very concept of innocence somewhat antithetical to them—but nothing in the previous day's events had prepared Nero for what was to come.

"I'm so glad we drove all the way in from Fortuna for that freak show," Nero growled as they all tramped back into the lobby of Devil May Cry. It was a miserable Monday night, and the rain had started coming down in earnest just as they were leaving the warehouse.

"What're you bitchin' about?" Nico snapped back, rubbing her eyes. "You weren't the one drivin' all night, Mr. Naps-with-his-muddy-boots-all-over-my-dashboard."

Nero rolled his eyes. "Driving's your job, Nico. You're part of this outfit, and you insist on taking a cut, but you're not exactly out there in combat with the rest of us."

"Excuse me? My job is makin' weapons for all of you, and fixin' the ones you bust up. A little gratitude here?"

"Enough." Vergil's voice had a way of snapping through a room like a whip crack. Nero wondered if it had something to do with his innate devil powers, or if it were a skill that could be cultivated. It sure would come in handy whenever he had to deal with that rambunctious flock of orphans Kyrie was always collecting… "The request was obviously a prank of some kind."

Dante finished shaking the rain from his leather coat and tossed it toward the coat rack, where it seemingly miraculously hooked itself on a peg. "Trish took the call."

"The client had the password." Trish shrugged as she draped herself over Dante's desk. Of the entire assembly, she was the only one who appeared dry—the advantage of being a full demon with power over her physical form, Nero assumed. "So if it were a prank, it was perpetrated by someone who knows how we work."

"What have you done to piss off Morrison lately?" Lady called from the kitchenette, where she'd scavenged Dante's lone dishcloth to rub the rain from her hair. Her gaze was fixed on Dante.

"Nothing!" Dante protested. "I even paid the rent on time!"

"This month," Trish added. "But it doesn't sound like Morrison to call us all together and send us full-storm into a warehouse full of inflatable clown dolls."

Vergil's eyes were flicking around the shop's interior, taking stock of the trophies and Devil Arms that Dante insisted on keeping pegged to the wall. "It could have been a ruse to get us out of the way and leave this place unguarded. Is anything missing?"

"Not that I see." Dante shrugged. "But if it were some kind of trick, why have us call in all the backup? Nero doesn't even work in this city, and Lady was a hundred miles away when the request came in. If they wanted to empty the office, it would have been faster to just send the three of us on a wild goose chase, instead of getting the whole band back together."

"Whatever. Let's postpone solving the mystery until morning." Nero dropped onto the battered leather sofa and began picking apart the mud-encrusted knots in the laces of his combat boots. "Okay if I crash here tonight? I'm beat."

Nico frowned. "I thought you told Kyrie you'd be back in time for that thing tomorrow?"

"I'll call her. I'm in no condition to drive, and you didn't sleep at all last night—"

"Oh, so you noticed?"

"…so I don't trust you behind the wheel, either."

Nico scowled. "Fine. But I call dibs on the couch."

"No way." Nero kicked his still-booted feet up across the length of the sofa, staking his claim. "You can sleep over there." He pointed to the shorter love seat near the stairs.

"That's for midgets. You can't expect me to squash myself onto that thing!"

"Well then, you can have all the room you like in your precious van."

"No fair. The van stinks!"

"Should have cleaned those leftovers out of the refrigerator before leaving it parked in the sun for a week, then."

Lady turned away from their bickering. "I don't suppose you have a spare cot or anything? I came on my bike, and I don't fancy riding all the way back to Bolingbroke in this downpour."

"No cot, but you can have my room," Dante offered. "I'll just bunk in with Vergil."

Vergil scowled. "You'll do no such thing."

Dante ignored the warning in his tone. "Oh, c'mon. We used to share a room when we were kids. What's the big deal?"

"When was the last time you laundered your bedding?"

Dante absently scratched his shaggy hair. "Uh… what month is it?"

"I rest my case." Vergil lifted his chin. "Lady will sleep in my bed."

An awkward silence spread through the room as half a dozen pairs of eyes flicked between Vergil and Lady. The latter's ears were slowly turning pink. "Um, that's not…"

"It's not an inconvenience. I don't require much sleep." Vergil turned and strode toward the shop's back hallway. "I have some research to do tonight, anyway."

Lady released a breath as they heard Vergil close the door of the former janitorial closet he'd converted into a study. She attempted to conceal her embarrassment at the misunderstanding behind a yawn. "Okay, then, I guess I'll turn in. See you all in the morning." She headed for the stairs.

"G'night." Nero flopped back on the sofa, then remembered he still needed to call Kyrie. "Trish, can you hand me the phone?"

Trish glanced between Nero and the antique telephone with catlike mischief. "What, you're too tired to walk the three steps to get it yourself?"

"If I get off this couch, Nico is gonna try to take my spot, and then things are gonna get real messy." Nero shot her a feral grin.

"Sounds fun." Trish slid the phone to the farthest side of the desk from Nero's position before hopping lightly to her feet. "I'll be on the roof keeping watch, as usual. Sweet dreams, mortals."

Nero was jolted awake early the next morning by the jangling of the telephone bell. After his call to Kyrie—which he'd made from the sofa, after defending his territory against Nico by dint of threats, insults, and a little creative maneuvering with his not-quite-corporeal right arm—he'd left the telephone on the floor within arm's reach, too tired to get up and replace it on Dante's desk. He swore and batted at the source of the noise, dislodging the receiver from the cradle.

He tried to go back to sleep, but the receiver was emitting a tinny, insistent sound that suspiciously resembled the word hello. Nero groaned and scooped up the instrument. "Devil May Cry," he mumbled into the receiver.

There was a beat of silence. "Either that's Nero, or Dante's been hitting the sauce harder than usual," came a gravelly voice.

Nero tossed an arm over his eyes to block the daylight that insisted on peeking through the blinds. "Nice to hear your voice too, Morrison."

"Glad you're in town, kid. Got a job for you. All of you."

"No thanks. I've had my fill of plastic clowns for the year."

"Plastic—what are you talking about?"

"That wild goose chase we got sent on yesterday. Warehouse in Cymbeline City? Ring any bells?"

"None whatsoever. You been into Dante's stash again?"

"Whatever," Nero grumbled. "Anyway, I'm headed back to Fortuna as soon as Nico's awake enough to drive."

"You might not want to go back just yet." Morrison's tone grew serious. "Bad shit going down not far from where you are now. My informants say there's been a big surge of demonic activity, and it involves kids."

Nero groaned. Morrison had long since figured out the magic word that would keep Nero from refusing a job. Helping Kyrie with the orphanage was rewarding, but also maddening in some ways. "Okay, lay it out."

"I don't have much. Just an address and some secondhand accounts. Strange lights and noises coming from that old canning factory on the edge of town."

"That could be anything. Vagrants camping out, kids having a rave. Doesn't mean it's something for us to handle."

"When the cops went to check it out, they found an arcane seal burned into the factory floor."

Nero frowned. "Some kinda ritual, maybe. Some idiot trying to summon something. Still doesn't mean—"

"They also found three toddlers there. Stripped, half-starved, and drained of vitality. The official report said they were weak from exposure, but one of the responding officers went straight to the bar when he got off duty and started drinking to forget whatever he'd seen. Said it was like looking at the work of a vampire."

Nero's stomach churned. "What happened to the kids?"

"Dead. All three. Didn't make it to the next morning."

Anger boiled up in Nero's chest, and he pushed himself upright. "Give me the address."

The distinctive stench of sulfur mixed with rotting meat greeted them outside the warehouse. "Ugh," Lady burst, fanning the air beneath her nose. "It smells even worse out here than it did in the van."

"Smells like Nero's dirty undies." Nico shot a glare at Nero. She was still bitter about losing the duel for the sofa, and Nero knew she'd be impossible to live with for another day or two. Best to ignore her until she got distracted, or he could buy her forgiveness with some random bit of demon corpse for her experiments.

"Definitely something from the underworld," Dante mused, turning in a circle. "Big, too. Feel that?"

Vergil gave a silent nod, and Trish oriented her head toward one end of the building. Nero tried to locate whatever it was they were reacting to, but apparently his one-quarter devil heritage didn't give him quite the critical genetic mass necessary for that feat. He could sense the presence of powerful demons when they were very close, but at this distance he rarely felt more than a twinge at the back of his neck. He was only just beginning to be able to detect Dante or Vergil's presence, and then only when they allowed him to.

Lady was used to being the only full human on the team, on the rare occasions that they worked a job together, and seemed to casually accept that they all shared perceptions beyond her own. "Just the one?" she asked as she loaded whichever rebuild of Kalina Ann she was carrying now.

"Only one big bad," Dante replied. "Seems like there may be a few smaller vermin around, though. They're always popping up like ants at a picnic."

"So are we going in together, or splitting up?"

Dante shrugged and glanced at Vergil, who somehow had become the team's default tactician in spite of his perpetual annoyance at being consulted. Nero hadn't spent much time with his father, but the few missions they'd undertaken together since his return from the underworld had been enough to realize that team player was not part of Vergil's extensive vocabulary. "Two parties, entering from opposite ends of the building." The corner of his mouth tightened in what might have passed for a smirk. "I won't guarantee targets for everyone."

"A free-for-all, huh?" Trish spun Luce and Ombra by the trigger guards. "Best get moving, then."

Lady shouldered Kalina Ann and turned toward the building. "Girls on the right, boys on the left."

Dante grinned. "Sounds good to me. Let's roll!"

Nero grabbed a radio handset from the dashboard before jogging after Dante and Vergil, who were already striding toward the main entrance at the left end of the factory. "Stay in range," he called over his shoulder to Nico. "I'll call if we need you."

Nico was already slumped on the van's running board to wait. "Whatever," she called, waving her cigarette in a shooing motion. "Don't die, I guess."

The factory's outer doors were open, not that mundane door locks would have posed any obstacle to the hunters. Nero coughed reflexively as they stepped into the small reception area. In the enclosed space, the odor of rotting flesh was more concentrated, and breathing without gagging required effort. Nero watched Dante explore the room, apparently unfazed by the stench, and again wondered if that ability were due to innate power or discipline.

Then again, given the state of Dante's office and sometimes-working plumbing, it was doubtful if Dante actually had a functioning sense of smell.

Across the reception area, Vergil had gravitated to a bookcase and was leafing through a clip-ring records binder. "It looks as though this place closed down a little over a year ago. Plenty of time for something unsavory to move in."

"There was plenty unsavory here when they were still open." Dante pointed to a faded poster, which displayed a smiling cartoon fish leaping over a metal tin labeled tuna alternative. "I tried to eat some of that stuff once. Had the runs for a week."

Vergil kept reading, merely flicking an eyebrow at his brother's interjection. "That's not surprising, given these reports. Apparently there was some doubt as to what type of meat, exactly, they were putting into their food products. There's a letter warning of an impending investigation, but it seems the factory shut down production shortly afterward. No reason given; the records just stop."

"That's all fascinating, but can we hurry up and go kill some demons now?" Nero cut in. "I'm already gonna need a fire hose to get this smell off me."

Vergil shut the binder with a snap and replaced it on the shelf. "It only seemed fair to give Lady and Trish a head start. But they've had long enough. We can proceed."

Nero studied his father's face from the corner of his eye. Vergil's delivery, as always, was completely dry, but Nero thought he detected that little crinkle at the corner of his lips that indicated a joke. It had taken Nero weeks of guarded communication to realize that Vergil even possessed a sense of humor, and he still had trouble reading him at times.

Dante summoned his sword to hand and kicked open the door that led to the factory floor. The wood splintered beneath his foot, leaving the locked knob wedged into the frame. "Any bets?"

"Six minutes," Vergil said.

Nero's nose burned as a new wave of stench rolled out through the opening. "Ten minutes. But only because Lady and Trish are going to argue about who gets the loot, and it'll take us longer to get back to the van."

Dante grinned. "Let's beat 'em to the prize. Five minutes."

The trio moved into the factory proper, navigating through the corridors of silent machinery with swords and guns at the ready. Despite the daylight flooding the reception area, it was nearly dark within the windowless plant. Though Dante and Vergil seemed to find their way without difficulty, Nero's eyes were straining for detail before long. "Think there's any power here?" he asked after he'd tripped over something for the third time. "Not to point out the obvious, but it's pretty dark."

"Is that a problem?" Nero could tell from Dante's voice that he'd turned around and was walking backwards, watching him. "You mean you can't see me right now?"

"I'm good in twilight, but not when it's pitch black. And stop making that face."

Dante laughed. "Thought you couldn't see me."

"I don't need to. I can feel the ugly rolling off—ow! Son of a…" Nero hissed as he stumbled forward. "At least tell me when there's a step up, jackass!"

"It will be lighter up ahead," Vergil interjected.

Nero was about to ask how he knew when they rounded a corner and emerged into an aisle suffused with an eerie red glow. Tendrils of some vine-like organism from the underworld twined over the surrounding machinery. The fronds pulsed with a faint light, drenching the area in shades of blood.

The moment his eyes adjusted, Nero bolted forward and knelt beside a tiny human body sprawled across the floor. Laying his sword aside, he carefully turned the child over and swore at the sight of the emaciated limbs and slack face. The boy couldn't have been more than five years old, if that. "He's unconscious, but breathing. Barely."

Dante had crouched beside him, sword still in hand, while Vergil stood guard at their back. "Poor kid. This is what Morrison said they found before, right?"

Nero nodded. "But the police already cleared the building, which means this is new. Something is bringing more kids here and draining them." He reached for the radio he'd clipped to his belt. "Nico, come in."

There was a short pause before the handset crackled to life. "Yo, didn't take long for you to decide you need some help from your lowly little driver."

"Not now, Nico. We found a kid. He's unconscious."

"Crap." The mockery vanished from Nico's voice. "What do you need me to do?"

"Bring a flashlight and blanket and come get him. He's not far inside the door, in the main aisle. Just take him back to the van for now, try to keep him warm until we can get him to a hospital. I'll let you know if we find any more victims."

Reluctantly, Nero lowered the child's cold, limp form back to the floor. There was a scrap of woolen fabric nearby, an old coat or blanket, and Nero gently draped it over the child's bare body. "Let's find the bastard that did this so I can put my fist through its face."

The hairs at the nape of Nero's neck began to prickle as they moved deeper into the room, responding to the presence of something nearby, but their red-lit path across the factory revealed no enemies. The only living beings they discovered were two more children, both younger than the first and similarly drained. Nero quashed the nausea he felt at their condition and radioed Nico with their location.

After several minutes they came across a broad open space in the center of the factory floor, illuminated from above by more robust tendrils of the underworld vine. A complex magic circle was incised into the concrete. Judging by the scorch marks surrounding it, it had seen frequent use.

Dante knelt and traced the arcane symbols with his fingertips. "This is no casual cult job. This was purpose-built."

Vergil made a slow circuit of the pattern. "It's fairly advanced, for human work. Summoning and trapping, all in one circle." He drummed his fingers thoughtfully against Yamato's sheath for a moment. "Actually, this explains quite a lot."

Nero and Dante exchanged glances before turning back to Vergil. "Explains what?"

"Dante's stomach troubles," Vergil said with that faint, amused turn to his lips. "Why purchase wholesome food ingredients when you can summon a nearly unlimited supply of meat-like material to put in your canned mystery product, at no charge?"

Nero's stomach lurched. "You mean they were selling canned devil meat?"

Vergil shrugged. "Low-level demons, at least. I doubt a true devil would have had anything to fear from these humans." He toed the edge of the circle. "This sort of magic would not have contained any creature of moderate strength. In fact—" He bent lower and traced his fingers across a crack in the concrete. "—that's probably just what happened here. They summoned something more powerful than they had intended, and it broke free. I suspect those responsible reaped their just reward."

"Except whatever they brought over is still here, and is preying on those kids." Nero's jaw clenched. "So let's find it, and put this place out of business for good."

"Good plan." Dante glanced around the factory. "It's weird. I can feel something in here with us, but I can't tell where it is, exactly."

Vergil stood and dusted his hand against his coat. "Lady and Trish also have yet to put in an appearance. Perhaps they've drawn it out toward the back."

"Well, let's get after it while there's still something to get after."

They continued across the plant, but their progress was soon blocked by a heavy fire door, locks intact. "It can't have come this way," Dante said. "Although…" He put his ear to the door, and a moment later a low rumbling shook the concrete beneath their feet. "Yep, there goes Kalina Ann. Sounds like Trish and Lady are having a good time over there without us. Shall we join them?" He raised his sword, preparing to cleave through the steel.

"Wait." Nero held out a hand. "These doors are key-locked, and so was the door we came through. That means whatever attacked those kids is probably still in this half of the building."

Dante lowered his sword. "Yeah, I see your point. Don't want that thing getting out into the city, whatever it is." He glanced over at Vergil. "Spread out, or stick together?"

Vergil's eyes flicked around the dim factory interior. "This machinery is like a labyrinth, and the demon could be hiding anywhere. We'll need a higher vantage to reconnoiter the entire area."

Nero pointed to a metal catwalk far above their heads. "There has to be an access ladder somewhere. Probably bolted to a wall."

"Then let's move around the perimeter until we find it."

Their progress was soon blocked by a bank of equipment, and they turned into a narrow aisle between conveyor belts. They had only moved a few steps when Vergil and Dante halted mid-stride. Nero was jerked to a halt as Vergil's forbidding arm slapped across his chest.

Dante's blade glowed, flame-hued. Vergil's hand hovered over Yamato's hilt. The hair on Nero's neck prickled, and he adjusted his grip on Red Queen.

Seconds later, a gleaming purple-black hulk came into view at the end of the aisle. Some form of demonic power poured off its body in iridescent waves, pooling on the floor before dissipating. The creature seemed to be sniffing the air, and its head soon oriented toward the group of hunters. Milky eyes blinked once, and its bifurcated jaw opened to reveal a luminous ball of violet energy seated at the back of a long tongue.

Dante's weight rocked forward, preparatory to a full-on charge, but in that same instant Vergil shifted back, recoiling from the creature. The move was so out of character that it distracted Nero completely. He tore his gaze from the demon to stare at his father, whose eyes had gone wide.

"Oh, shit," Vergil said.

There was a blast of light, retina-searing after the near-darkness, and Yamato's sheath struck Nero in the chest with sufficient force to launch him over the row of conveyor belts, through a stack of crates, and into the side of an industrial vat. New lights burst through his vision as his head slammed into the concrete, and then darkness claimed him completely.

NOTES:

First, this story is also available on AO3. I mention this because TAGS ARE A THING, and unfortunately this site still hasn't figured them out. If you want to see the list of themes, character relationships, content, chapter count, etc., please look it up there. I can't link because FFnet hates URLs and it's personal, but the author name and title are the same, and AO3 has a handy search feature.

Next: Get comfy, folks, because this is going to be a LONG ride (70 chapters, plus or minus). If you're new to my stories, you can expect plenty of family drama, All The Feels, Actual Plot (TM), a couple of subplots, a side helping of physical combat, and a fair smattering of dry humor. There's also some shameless domesticity in this one.

Updates will be weekly, transitioning to semi-weekly once I finish editing the final few chapters. Total chapter count may vary slightly depending on where I end up breaking scenes, as I'm still editing the last bit.

The title of this story, of course, comes from a William Blake poem (which I think is now required by fandom law for all DMC5 fics). It's the opening line of A Little Girl Lost.

Thanks for reading!