Chapter 5 - The Council is dead – long live The Council
"What have we done..." Death didn't utter this out of astonishment over their deed, but for all the extensive consequences they yet had to face. His dark, jaded voice had taken on an echo through the, from now on, empty halls of fire and brimstone.
The fires had died. The brimstone had vaporized, leaving the air chill and clear as the Four Riders rested from a long and weary battle.
Death sat on the stone steps he once used to kneel on, his heavily damaged, trustworthy scythes laying discarded beside him. War stood on the foot of said staircase, resting on his favored huge sword named Chaoseater, which was as equally jagged and blunted as his brothers scythes.
"The inevitable." A stalwart War replied, not nearly feeling as glum as his bother had sounded.
Free from chains. Free from severe punishment. Free from servile obedience.
The Charred Council was no more.
The watchers, all stripped of their exclusive power and purpose, had either fled and were spared, or slain upon resistance without mercy. And War had gladly taken it up as a personal task to do so. The only being, that remained intact and was unscathed was the Keeper of Oblivion, as one of the Old Ones not bound directly to the Council's power.
Death, seeing in him the honorable entity he was, gave only the executioner the freedom of choice. Death had felt compelled, feeling he owed him a great debt, to tell him beforehand of their plans, leaving it to him to fend for the Council or just let things take their respective course.
He chose the latter, staying true to his duty of an executioner, even though the Council was eliminated. Death had promised him though, they wouldn't leave the realms in the unwatched state, it was plunged into by the riders. Unfortunately, they had been pressed to take actions sooner than anticipated and it left them little to no time to spring into action.
Death gritted his teeth, finding little solace in the silence that surrounded the four of them.
He called for Strife and Fury, which settled next to War, looking up at him expectantly.
"Brothers. Sister." He announced with a solemn voice. "It is time."
Fury nodded, hair the ever moving flame around her delicate face and behind her head. She let her spiked whip crack once for the pure pleasure she took in the sound it made, before securing it to her side. Keen silver eyes staring back at Death.
Strife expertly twirled his guns before holstering them, his hair still in disarray and a charred mess after the days long battle. Loosing his beloved mask in the heavy fight, he showed Death his rarely seen wry smile. "What are we waiting for?"
Still it was an absolute miracle they had made it this far. And with Strife and Fury by their side. War had been the first to loudly voice out his need for the corrupted council to vanish. They lied, they betrayed. They only had been interested in what was best for them, not anyone else.
War had died, luckily to be reborn, after the seventh had been broken under Uriel's attack at the end of his long journey to prove his innocence. Death had to die in order to erase the crime he had been falsely accused off.
Uriel had asked how the reawakened War would hope to wage battle to protect himself from all of creation. "You would wage this war alone?"
"No. Not alone." He had replied, before revealing that the breaking of the final seal had called the other three Horsemen. The moment Death had immersed into the well of souls, sacrificing himself in order to resurrect mankind, he felt the pull of the seal's power as his life slipped from him.
As he had come face to face with War, never had he been happier to see his youngest sibling's stoic face. And because he had shed his mask prior to his selfless leap into the well, War could also see the alleviated pain in the oldest rider's expression.
Upon explaining and evaluating their dire situation and the desolate state the Council had been in, they had fled the scene together. And with the help of an old friend, not bound to any laws, for he was an Old One as well, they went into hiding, with their true powers finally unlocked due to all seals broken.
But of course, the watchers were on their heels, even if secured by a powerful entity and eventually forced to strike hard and fast.
Successfully so, yet still hard to grasp.
Death held each siblings stare for a brief moment. A strange gleam in his eyes and pride upon his face, before sending Strife and Fury off to their task, while he and War would pursue another one.
He knew Fury was able enough to keep Strife's loose mouth in check with rivaled heavily with his extremely short temper. Though, naturally he trusted both of them enough to carry out their task effectively.
"Find him. He prowls the third kingdom, like the true predator he is. Be wary." He spoke curtly, not patient enough to loose time over sentimental words. Their departure was swift and hush, knowing full well the impact of their deeds.
War advanced the stairs in a slow climb, settling down next to his acheronian sibling, enormous arms resting heavy armored knees.
"It worries me, brother." Death had his head lowered as he spoke. "Danzig had not been seen for month, nor did he leave a message behind."
"It all will turn out in our favor. Have faith." The red rider tried to assure him, even going so far as to pat his arm.
Death had learned to trust his gut feeling increasingly over his logical theorizations. He still had been puzzled about the sudden aid that had been offered quite selflessly by the trader.
And now he was about to follow his feeling once more. He had send Dust to the human realm shortly before they had commenced the onslaught on the Council. And he truly wondered, if the hunter and weapons master would aid them on their journey. Then again, Death saw no use in dwelling on possible outcomes. They soon would find out.
He stood up, gripping his scythe. Intently regarding War, who had risen to his feet as well, he couldn't help but chuckle darkly. This was a far cry from anything he had imagined when jumping into the well of souls.
"Let's see how our favorite halfbreed is doing these days. Maybe he knows where Danzig is hiding."
Yet, he found he had stayed true to his words from back then. He would protect War above all. And when his brother had wanted the Council gone, taking his much deserved revenge, Death would see it done.
"Ah, it is good to see the third kingdom prospering as ever." War stated, the moment they set foot on hot sand in the middle of a grainy, heavy sandstorm, not really knowing in what godforsaken corner of the third kingdom the malfunctioning portal had thrown them out.
Death quickly covered his face with the tattered cloak around his shoulders, while War endured it with astonishing stoicism, not so much as gritting his teeth.
"I cannot see a damn thing." Death grouched next to him, trying to shield his eyes from the gusts of wind.
War squinted his eyes, evenly focusing on his surroundings. The sun was high above them, though veiled by the sandstorm. He moved to shield his brother from the wind and started to walk. As long as they pressed on, the direction didn't matter, they had to eventually come across some sort human made structures.
Death, guarded by War's tall and broad figure, too, had time to look around, if only a little. His brother lead the way and he'd let him for the time being. He just hoped for this weather nuisance to pass quickly.
Walking seemingly endless, still clad in heavy armor no less, both riders started to experience the fatigue the human realm brought upon them.
They would need a rest soon, and the sun was setting. But the storm had lessened considerably, until they were able to walk side by side again.
"I hate this place." Death grunted in disgust.
"Yet, if we'd landed in the city, you would still state the exact same thing." War knew, Death just wasn't much a fan of inconvenience altogether.
"Your point?" Death snarled.
"We should have visited the forge lands, before coming here."
Seeing as how poorly equipped there were, both with dull, damaged weapons and broken armor, Death understood perfectly, yet couldn't see the benefit in delaying any further in favor of new equipment.
It would have to suffice for now and there was no guarantee it would have presented them with a better outcome. Rules on earth were different. They'd still be stronger than anything else roaming the realm.
"And we'd be lost just same, only in a damp forest I'd venture. So, no." Death quipped.
"It would have spared me from having sand between my teeth."
Death just hoped for Dust to return to him soon. He would find them a way across this wasteland.
They had so little time and so much to do and Death just hoped on Strife's and Fury's end it would look better than here.
Death knew, how much of a risk it posed to have the Council's influence vanished and the Riders scattered across the third kingdom, looking for potent assets on their journey.
Upon giving in on War's request, they all had established that it was a crucial time. The late Council couldn't have been allowed to reign any further in it's beyond corrupted state it had been in.
In this very moment they were jeopardizing their whole existence, willingly so.
No Council - no balance. The treaties where void and nullified the moment they had slaughtered the higher entity, and he would wonder just how long it would take Heaven and Hell to get a whiff of what was going on.
How the White City, seeing them as ever loyal to the balance, would react, Death wouldn't know . One thing though, he was relatively sure off, Azrael would be out to have his head on a pike.
Death probably had done everything possible to strain their relationship beyond repair in the past, but he also knew he could reason with the wise archangel. And he deemed him wise enough to hold the forces of heaven back, when he learned of their deeds, to avoid unnecessary bloodshed among his kin.
With Hell, he was not so sure. After seeing to Earth as first task, they had to deal with the realm evidently. Samael had already lost the crown and the newest occupant of the throne was still the great unknown but subsequently a force to be reckoned with.
Earth, seen as the weakest out of the three kingdoms, was the realm in most imminent danger again. And Death wouldn't let his sacrifice let go to waste.
To find Danzig was essential to the plan. Only he would have the power and wisdom to give them a direction that posed the lesser risk for all.
Also the needed new members for the Council. And Death would feel less weight on his shoulders, if the old being would accept a place among it. Their list of possibilities and assets was short. On the bright side, it wouldn't take a long duration to sift through the potential allies.
One thing at a time though, to hasten things would only lead to mistakes. And mistakes would lead to failure. Just like War had said, he needed to have faith. And luck.
Death hated to entrust things to something so fickle as luck. Or coincidence. Additionally, he'd only ever put his trust in actions rather than words.
As night settled in, dousing the seemingly endless and never changing landscape into an eerie dull gray, on the far horizon peeking structures with blinking lights came into view.
Death and War exchanged a restrained, but assertive look. It would seem yet luck was on their side. The old city of rain and stone, standing on top of ancient ruins, was almost reached. And far above them a caw hailed them, indicating Dust's thrill to be reunited with his master.
"Verge..." Dante cooed, falling behind fairly quick.
Vergil heard him clearly, but ignored him no less. He wouldn't let any unnecessary distraction hinder him. He warped as fast as possible, inconsiderate about loosing Dante on his frantic dash back home.
The ominous note proved itself to be more disturbing, than expected. And Dante's current quarrel behind his back ground down on his more than edgy nerves.
He was anxious.
"Verge, stop for a second." Dante huffed, half pleadingly to no avail. The stoic twin continued relentlessly, depleting his brother's stamina rapidly, which further more stumped Dante.
"Holy shit magnet with a stick!" The younger twin yelled, loud enough for the nearest flock of birds to shoot up into the sky and flee the scene. "Stop!"
Vergil halted abruptly, having Dante almost crash into his back. With a last step to side, he let Dante come to screeching halt.
"What's the matter?" Dante huffed, rubbing his temples.
Vergil inclined his head, lowering his gaze and crossed his arms. A defeated sigh escaped him. "What's the matter?" He repeated the moronic inquiry mockingly.
Dante pursed his lips, not feeling up to have an argument, and remained silent, just arching his left brow in question.
Vergil's straight up and tensed posture let him know, how annoyed he was.
Upon reading the note it was obvious something had occurred, good or bad was not known.
However, didn't Death announce after they had been forced to a joint struggle with the riders back then, he had some business to take care of and would revisit them afterwards?
The note they received was indeed beyond vague, not specifying an exact time for his arrival. Only that it was urgent and, cue the sarcasm how unsurprising, foreshadowing danger. But no doubt, the business taken care of had caused a greater business that needed to be taken care of.
hunter
await my arrival soon
we must speak
the balance is in danger
What possessed the pale rider this time to visit earth, again in secrecy as it appeared, which was partially disturbing. The last time Death had entered this realm, he had willingly jeopardized the safety of earth with his unsanctioned actions.
This had occurred over ten years ago, Dante and Vergil had been quite new to the demon hunting business. In trying to discretely righting his wrong, Death had appeared on Earth and eventually had crossed path with the hybrids. Combining their efforts, a vast knowledge was granted to them of the universe with many worlds beyond. The twins learned of the Four Riders, the Charred Council and how they home world was looked after for the ever precious balance was protected by the last four of the Nephilim race.
Vergil wasn't willing to be reminded of the things that had followed Death's trail of actions. Or of how Vergil had been instigated to pursue his very own agenda. And of his failure to carry out his task. Of how they had met one of the Keepers, banished souls, that sought refugee on Earth for centuries. And how this had altered his life and motivations.
His hands were soiled with the blood of innocent people. How he would ever be able to redeem himself to his brother was still beyond him.
"Dante, please. We must get back. What, if he shows up right now?" Highly unlikely, Dante thought, however the anxiety in Vergil's voice startled him visibly. And he relented, understanding Vergil's urge to return to their home as swiftly as he saw fit. "Go ahead. I'll catch up to you."
Dante didn't need to tell him twice. Vergil's face blurred for a split second and a gust of wind hit Dante's face. He stood for a moment, face turned upward to the sun. Such a bright day, which wasn't exactly unheard of, but still very uncommon in the city of stone and rain.
This couldn't be good.
Vergil continued his hasty warp to home. If Dante had been worried as well, he couldn't say. If so, he'd masked it pretty well. Or was Vergil acting irrationally?
He couldn't risk it though, having the rider encounter Nero without anyone present to update him, that he wasn't an enemy, but an acquaintance and expected. He could already picture Nero going ballistic on Death, if he tried to enter their home, knowing he was able to track them down this fast.
Nero wouldn't want to trust him. And why would he? He would sense the danger the rider posed, with an aura effective enough to rile every demon's or hybrid's blood up, even if it wasn't meant for him to fear. Additionally, the pale rider wasn't exactly the patient type either, so this mixture was bound to explode.
Vergil replayed and analyzed every possible turn and outcome of such an encounter, and it would always be the same. Nero would attack first and ask questions later, misjudging the whole situation altogether because he would feel threatened to act rashly.
An opponent as powerful as Death, he had yet to come across and the pale rider would not so much but bat an eye to end the young man right there and then, if he'd be attacked. And there would be nothing in the young man's power to escape his fate.
Then, it would be Nero's blood on his hands as well. And that thought scared him beyond being able to think reasonably.
The constant reminder of ill judged conditions on his side always within sight in the form of his twin, so to never let his mind know rest, had hardened his resolve to never take chances or underestimate danger.
He had learned the hard way and paid with his life for his misconceptions. This was his punishment. And he endured it like he had endured everything else. He was indebted. And he would be damned, if he wouldn't try to repay it. Nero and Dante had become his sole priority.
Vergil really didn't know, when he became so attached to Nero in particular, seeing as he had never really been able to detach himself from Dante, no matter how hard he had tried. He was painfully aware of it, as he arrived at the door, acknowledging with relief the wards were still untouched.
Forged with their own blood, they allowed only the hunters to pass them as they pleased. Dante even had the mind to include Devon's blood, which he had retrieved from the bloodied clothes she had worn when arriving here.
As he entered the house he was met with silence. No soul was around to sense and it disturbed him from anew. Vergil made short work of inspecting every room, but found nothing out of the ordinary.
Discarded clothes both in Nero's room and the bath, one pile had the woman's scent on them. Shower curtain and air still slightly damp. They must have left not long ago.
As he entered the kitchen, a look out of the window told him the car, which was usually parked in the alley next to the house, was gone as well. His eyes fell upon a practically shredded box of pop tarts. Empty.
Vergil sunk down on his chair at the table and heaved a sigh. Whatever they were up to he couldn't guess, but it appeared that everything was in order.
His eyes narrowed, as he looked sideways.
"The kids are both fine." Dante announced, sauntering in, waving several scribbled notes he'd picked up from his desk, in front of Vergil's face.
The twin nimbly took them off his hand.
At first he scowled.
Went shopping. Nero.
Also, we ate all your pop tarts. They were delicious.
The handwriting changed. Vergil knew it ought to be Devon's.
Nero made me do it.
This was obviously for Dante, since Vergil detested those nasty thing wholeheartedly. The more he read, the more his brows wandered up..
She ate five. Accidentally apparently.
He ate ten.
She was going to eat in the car.
He said it was his anyway and wouldn't matter.
That's what you get for doing nothing around the house except for eating and sleeping.
He regarded Dante with a chuckle, before his eyes widened advancing to the last note.
Same goes for Verge. Minus the eating, Nero said to tell you
Devon used your mint soap
I also used up your shampoo
Don't worry Verge, we got you covered.
Laters.
Dante smirked, nibbling on his right thump, while swaying back and forth on his feet. He was the picture perfect image of a cat that ate the canary.
"They seem to get along well." Vergil's voice hinted sarcasm. He placed the notes on the table, before scowling up at Dante. "You'd knew this would happen." Vergil huffed. Nero was already getting attached and most likely, it was the other way around as well.
"So, what." Though, Dante could say he was pleased with this, he could care less.
Beside the twins, who had Nero really? He was lonely, whenever Dante and Verge were away. Nero never complained about this particular circumstance, other than arguing, he was a legit part of the business as well and wanted to accompany them instead of keeping watch. He did not understand, it was their way to keep him out of harms way.
Reading between the lines, Dante was aware, he was sometimes frustrated to be left to his own devices ever so often. In addition, Nero greatly differed from them when it came to ordinary things, that neither Dante nor Vergil were interested in he had no one to share his enthusiasm about things he liked and enjoyed.
The boy had mad skills, thanks to the demonic essence in his blood, and put it to good use whenever he could. He picked up on things by just looking at them. Like fixing the car and the bike for instance, or anything that broke in the household for that matter. He loved to cook, even worked part time at Cesare's place when he first got here, simply for the comforting company of the fatherly man and in learning to expand his hobby.
Because of the ordinary, but secluded upbringing in a society of dusty tradition in Fortuna, Nero still have had the luxury of experiencing a fairly normal growing up, though part of his early childhood was missing from his memory - which maybe was even for the better, considering how he had been altered to become a hybrid.
In short, the young man had rediscovered, that he was hungry for life after coming to terms with his depression.
Who could blame him for that? And maybe, just maybe, Dante had made a decision with far more consequences, good or bad, than at first glance.
Along the way, the hybrids had tried so hard to provide Nero with a carefree and peaceful life, both of them had never the chance to experience, they had forgotten that they, too, were a part of his life.
Dante always had to look after himself from a very young age on, with nothing but an old geezer to care for him, who was unfortunately a declared escapist. And Vergil had a ten year gap, he still tried to compensate, completely missing from his life.
Still, Nero looked up to both them, sharing the brotherly way of love way, even if they all had difficulties to properly express it.
"The kids need to learn from anew where they stand and want to expect from life. How to socialize once again. You know, Nero needs more than two completely screwed up jerks as role models."
"You want her to stay, am I right?" Vergil asked warily, seeing it his twins face, as he already had made his decision.
Dante shrugged lightly, walking over to the counter. "Everybody deserves a second chance." He said gently, without looking at Vergil, languidly fiddling the tattered empty box of strawberry pop tarts.
"Don't I know it." Which didn't mean he was to keen to have a human around all the time. And how exactly Dante was planning to explain what and who they were was beyond him. This was a mistake, endangering her as much as them. But he felt to tired for once to have a discussion.
Dante smiled to himself at this. "Only for a while, until she can take care of herself. What's one more punk ass kid to feed, eh?"
Vergil rose slowly, giving Dante a last condescending look though. "I hope you know what' you are doing." He muttered darkly as he left.
"When have I ever...?" Dante whispered, distraught by Vergil's sudden change of mood.
"Shame, we're not gonna see their faces when they read those!" Nero and Devon were still giggling at how they probably succeeded to piss both twins off equally, after they had dropped al the notes on Dante's desk and escaped the scene rather quickly, with Nero driving the car across town on a lazy Sunday afternoon pace.
At first he really had just meant to let them know, where they are to not have them worry. It escalated quickly, though. And he certainly did not anticipate Devon to play along until it turned to a hilarious banter of snitching each other.
"I'd rather not. Oh my God, I already regret doing that." Devon crouched into the seat, hiding her face with both hands.
"Ah, don't worry. Dante can take a joke. Or Two."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
"Vergil?" Nero grinned in surprise. "He can take good joke, too."
"Really? He seemed scary." Devon admitted, eyes cast down. She admonished, how she had embarrassed herself in front of the stoic twin, and probably had gotten herself on his bad side completely with the insolent scribble.
But it was so funny, she'd think she'd do it again regardless. Something had clicked between Nero and her. And it was so pleasant and warm, when they had burst into fits of laughter over something s stupid.
She pulled a pained face and Nero couldn't help but giggle. "Really, he's not going to murder you, if that's what you are afraid of. He doesn't bite, nor bark when you think about it."
"I noticed." Strange enough, he was right. "That look, though." She tried to re-enact it, much to Nero's utter delight. This was rather cute than scary, her eyebrow not matching the delicate, perfect curve Vergil sported. It looked ridiculously out of place on her face.
"Yeah, he got that one down to perfection." Nero replied, while nodding. "I promise you though, you'll get immune to it as well."
"I'll take your word for it." Devon didn't sound convinced, but certainly did hope so. But she simply couldn't forget how it had made her feel so small. She was sure, she'd never met someone so intimidating with trying so little to none.
"I'll be there to protect you, if he does anything." Nero offered half jokingly, but Devon looked downright scared. "So, you do think he will? No, no, no."
"I wasn't being serious. Take it easy. He's surprisingly easy to talk to." When he was in a good mood.
Devon shook her head in denial, it clearly wasn't the vibe he gave off, not in the slightest. "I'd still rather not."
"Eventually you'll have to." He shrugged, scratching the back of his head.
Nope, not in her books. She'd avoid it by any means. "We'll see, I guess."
Nero had no idea how long Dante was planning on letting her stay, so eventually they had to get along. And Vergil couldn't hide in his room forever.
How Nero exactly felt about that he couldn't really say. She seemed nice. And funny after she gotten past that initial timidness and it had eased himself up in the process.
Normally. Nero and females did not mix, though. At all. The only ones he was alright to be around were Trish and Lady. And, as funny as it sounded, he did not even regard them as females any more. They were fellow hunters. Comrades. Nothing more, nothing less.
Even when first meeting with either of them had left him in a flustered state, soon after he had moved in with Dante and became accustomed to the women, it had changed. They viewed him as equal.
He had appreciated the faith they had put in him. When he regarded them now, all those lady assets were lost on him. Trish felt like a mentor to him as much as Dante and Vergil. But after Fortuna, he learned her to be a restless mind. Very smart and inquisitive. Keen like a dagger. She was also fun to be around, matching Dante's persona a surprising amount.
But nowadays when business was slow, Trish wasn't around. She loved to travel and see the world. And everytime she returned with lots of stories and souvenirs, which probably piled up messily somewhere in Dante's room.
His relationship to Lady wasn't even that close, when he thought about it. She wasn't someone easy to talk to and mostly all business with him. He had come to realize, that she was very capable and held her ground seeing she was only human, but also extremely tough. She wasn't as pleasant to be around as her exterior would suggest.
Lady had witnessed and became a part of the bitter fight between brothers. Since then she never left Dante's side, but had grown into a respectable devil huntress herself. Nero and her got along pretty good, though she had a more materialistic disposition than any of them, that irked him sometimes. But they could count on her when it truly mattered. That was all they needed to know.
And since Kyrie, Nero ever again had ventured beyond friendship. By choice, by guilt, by conviction or all of it mixed together to an unhealthy bitter cocktail. He was up to the point where he believed his interests had died with her.
So far, any advance by a female, he had brushed aside brusquely, leaving absolutely no room for misinterpretations for the opposite party. That he had in common with Vergil. Somehow, in spending time with the older twin, he involuntarily had assumed the same demeanour in a frightening way, because he had witnessed on occasion at how politely, but with determined coldness Vergil had neutralised any interests in him to an imminent success.
And frankly, the flirtatious nature of Dante never had been Nero's thing to begin with.
Still, in this very moment with the young woman, he could not explain his beginning timidness. Maybe because she was a poor, but brave little being, polite, nice and utterly helpless, that had sparked something in him. The way she pushed onto, had irked him, but he found he couldn't put the blame on her when Dante was at fault.
He even went so far as to relate to her. When he, a completely clueless mess, came to the city, he too felt lost and overwhelmed. Though, with Dante's help he quickly adapted to his new situation. Devon was probably experiencing the same, when coming to Devil May Cry. Nero thought it only to be fair to at least give her some form of guidance.
Devon on the other hand was unsure, if she really wanted the company. If she even was able to appreciate it. Her first and foremost goal all these years was self protection. From anything. But mostly physical harm that lurked in the city. But here, she found the danger of receiving pain of a different kind to be more prominent.
She didn't want to get involved to much with them. Dante had awoken a longing in her, that she thought had lost. The longing for company. A contact of ever sort. Physical or mental all the same. But, her injuries would heal sooner or later. She was afraid already. Afraid to be cast away when they deemed her fit enough, she had to leave.
And who was she kidding? Of course this was only temporary. Even with all the kindness shown to her, she knew it couldn't be avoided. And everybody moved on. She would have to.
They both started to speak simultaneously.
"Hey, how did y-" Nero stopped, when he saw, she had started at the same time. "Where are w- "
Another awkward moment of silence ensued, until he felt himself grin. Uncontrollably. This was so stupid, he thought. And she must have felt quite the same, for she grinned as equally wide and stupidly as him.
His focus swayed from the road ahead towards her and their eyes met for an embarrassing long moment. Neither said anything, until Nero had to mind where he was driving. He had avoided to look at her the whole time, but when he did so now, it came to mind what Dante had said. And he had to agree, she had cleaned up nicely.
Devon looked ahead to focus on anything else then the splendid view beside her. But her resolve to get him talk hardened nonetheless.
"What was it, you- ?" But he drowned her question out with his own words. Again. "I asked, where do you kn- " And he broke off his once more, the same time she did.
Now it was getting ridiculous. And they both started to outright laugh at their awkward failing attempts to talk to each other.
Nero simply motioned with his right hand for her to speak first, he would keep his mouth tightly shut this time.
"I just wanted to ask, where exactly we are going?" Devon did recognize these parts, but it was a dangerous venture for her alone and she had always avoided it like the plaque. So, with slight unease, she wondered where exactly he planned on taking her.
"Oh, still a ways. There's this big market on the outskirts?" He more asked, to see if she was familiar with it.
Devon didn't. Those long miles had her always scared, if she would make it back and frankly, she had no reason to go there in the first place. She had about it, though. Eventually, she simply nodded, eyes wandering around aimlessly until they stopped at his right hand.
And he noticed it. He still felt the strong itch to hide his gloved hand, but quickly berated his self-consciousness. He saw the curiosity burning in her eyes, but forced his brain to ignore it altogether. It was simply out of question.
Instead he chose to gain her attention with repeating his own earlier inquiry. "You know, I was wondering. Dane and you. I was just, you know...curious...how do you both know each other?" In truth, he wanted to hear her say, if she knew anything about his occupation at all. Because up until now, her behaviour clearly spelled her clueless.
And by god, was he itching to get this stupid glove off his arm and hand. It was sticky and sweaty already. The leather left his demonic arm no room to breath. It annoyed him to no end, whenever he had to put it on. And as long she was around, he had to.
"Oh, it was nothing special. He just stumbled across me one day as my bag of groceries broke. He helped me bring it home. That was actually quite a few years ago. And after that we met a few times by coincidence. At first I was creeped out. But he was quite nice, as awful as it sounds, to call someone just nice. But, well, you know him. He can be charming. And persuasive." She tried to explain and avoid the to delve into the topic all at once.
She had a home once. Had. Lost it, when the city attempted to spiral down into the hell hole it was, day by day. It never was just your average big city and always had a stark and mysterious aura to it because of it's old stone structures, Just like the constant rain, that drenched the cobble stone streets into a melancholic undercurrent.
After that accursed tower had appeared it became even more evident. And the skeleton of withered rock did not vanish completely. In the years after, new and stranger folk gathered. But Devon stayed. This was home, this was all she knew. Until it was too late.
"Sounds like him." Nero simply stated.
"He is nice, isn't he?" Devon asked softly, eyes glued to her hands as she put the first plate down and went for the next. She even didn't know why she asked that. It made her sound stupid. He was, that much was certain and even if he wasn't, Nero wouldn't be the one to admit.
Nero gave her a strange look. Because the way her voice sounded. It was a mix of a desperate need for reassurance. Almost anxious.
"He is. He's always like this. And he loves it. Don't worry." It sounded corny, though it couldn't be more true. His statement earlier would seem like shameless boasting to anyone who didn't know Dante's nature and motives for what he was doing. But it was the sole truth.
Dante was the good guy. Nothing more, nothing less. And he was fighting against any evil or injustice as if his own life depended on it with a recklessness to boot, that showed how little he valued it in the same time. Though Vergil had confirmed to him one time, when Dante had been younger, it had been even worse.
If someone would ask Dante to die for any of them, he would. With a smile on his face. But Nero highly doubted such power even existed. From what information he could get out of Vergil, Trish and Lady, maybe there wasn't even any one left standing to affront the raw power that was Dante.
"I thought so." Devon nodded to herself. "And I wished for him to be the good guy, the moment I saw him. He helped me out and asked for nothing in return." She admitted quietly, and she did not mean to say it out loud but the moment she did, it earned her an understanding smile from Nero.
"I kinda get what you mean."
He remembered how meeting Dante for the first time hadn't been his favourite experience. Though, the way he held himself in all his cockiness, he assumed despite how he killed His Holiness in seemingly cold blood, he could make people feel that he meant no harm if he truly wanted to. Even with his first appearance. Maybe even more so when he had been a few years younger.
Nero remembered vividly as soon as Dante had beaten him, that the hunters whole attitude had changed. He became softer and quieter, almost showing some kind of vulnerability about the sword. He had radiated an aura of compassion, worthy of Nero's trust. And from this point on he never had questioned Dante's motives any longer.
He was a good, upstanding man, concealing his good intentions with lame jokes and a happy-go-lucky attitude an unmatched sassiness to boot. Nero owed Dante big time and the older man never lost a single word about that.
"He does have that effect on people." Nero replied solemnly, not able to hide the faint, but deep admiration.
This moment marked it for Devon. Plus the way, Nero behaved during his statement, that Dante was much more than he first seemed. The way Nero said his statement implied heavily that he too had been saved by Dante. The underlying sadness did not go unnoticed by Devon, as well.
Those seven uttered words revealed more to her than Nero had intended.
Right there, in the very household these three shared, was something warm and fuzzy hiding under the surface and she wished she would be able to stretch her hand out and actually touch it. She thought it would be hot enough, to almost singe her heart when she would reach it.
If Devon could pride herself in something, it was the knowledge of how to judge people. Dante. Nero. Even Vergil. All had the same mysterious aura. And not just the hair gave it away. She could have been blind for all she knew, still she would have felt it. The deep connection was evident. And deeper than they let on.
"Do you know about that cursed tower?" Devon asked him out of nowhere after a while.
Nero almost swerved too far right when she did.
Of course, she knew about the tower. Everyone did.
He observed her for a second, not knowing what to say. He only knew a fraction of the story behind it, still it was more than she knew, he strongly hoped.
"I didn't live here, when it happened. I only know, what people like to tell. Which isn't all that much..." He trailed off, hoping it would settle the matter and keep her from asking too many questions he had to lie about. He was a poor liar and well aware of it. "Why?" He still had to ask, despite not feeling confident enough to discuss it. Nonetheless, he had to admit he was curious.
People had left the town in hordes, that was at least how Dante had put it. Why she had stayed, was the reason he opted to further pursue the topic.
"Have you ever been there?" Devon asked warily, ready to observe Nero's expression. To her dismay, he only nodded, as if in deep thought.
He knew the ruins, with nothing in it's center. It still stood there overshadowing the destroyed part of the city. A harsh reminder of what had occurred.
"You know, I went there one day." Devon told him with still assessing eyes, maybe waiting for a reaction. But Nero just inclined his head to listen. "Inside the shell there is nothing but broken black marble floor, though. But it's got an unsettling feeling to it as soon as you reach the inner space. No doubt, it was where all those creatures came from."
"Creatures?" He hesitantly used the same term, threading dangerous paths already. "What...creatures?"
"I don't know. Haven't seen them." Devon suddenly shrugged with a nonchalance, that didn't quite fit her. She seemed to hide as much as he did for a second, for a shadow briefly flitted across her face. For whatever reason he could not guess.
Maybe it had been, where she had lived? She had mentioned earlier, that Dante had helped her getting her stuff home. The possibility dawned on Nero, that maybe they hadn't lived too far away from each other eventually. The tower had broken out of the earth close to Dante's shop at that time and it got completely wrecked during a demon attack.
No, it could not be the reason she was a homeless. It all had happened ten years ago. No one could survive for that long all alone. Not the state the city had turned into afterwards. It was still a breeding ground for demons. Only the desperate, fearless and the non-humans had stayed.
It was a melting pot of a rotten society, which had formed between all those people in many years. Nero pondered to which type she belonged. He didn't mean it in it a bad way, but fearless wasn't the first thing that came to mind when observing her. Though she did survive that robbery widely unscathed except for a few cuts or scratches.
But when he thought about it, and Dante had met her first years ago, Nero could not help but start to admire her, if she had lived among the ruthless and reckless and managed to keep herself alive. Maybe there was more to her than met the eye. And he hoped it wouldn't came back to bite them, though he was sure Dante would have noticed.
Nero was glad when the big red sign on the side of the road announced they had arrived, for he would need to stop thinking pointless back and fro and actually had to focus on the shopping list he had set up in his mind.
The parking lot was fairly empty and he found a good spot to park the car. They hopped out and made their way for the shopping carts. He quickly patted himself down for change for a cart.
All the while, Devon observed her surroundings with wide eyes. This was quite different from the inner city. There were trees growing and grass covered the area around the huge market and the parking lot and beyond it a desert stretched as far as the eye could see.
People walked past them with carts full of things she'd never had the money to acquire. Children begged their parent for sweets and one even had a balloon.
Devon swore inwardly, for she never had found the courage to come this far out. It almost seemed like a whole different world. When she turned, Nero stood beside her, pushing a cart forward. And she secretly wondered why the three man opted to live in the city and not out here, where it seemed so much more peaceful.
She followed him silently inside and was completely at loss of words. The alleys were broad and goods stacked up too high for her to reach. It smelled clean and of fresh air, because of the ventilation system that hummed soothingly somewhere above them.
Soft music came out of speakers, which she couldn't see. And when she saw his amused expression, she became painfully aware of how ridiculous clueless she must have looked.
Nero indeed noticed but brushed it off, sensing her awkwardness and made his way to start with the aisle full of fruits and vegetables.
"If you see anything you like, just tell me." The yet again the generous offer startled her. He didn't let her time enough to answer. "And there still are a few things you might need as well. We can get almost anything here."
And it was true. Her eyes roamed the signs down the market, labelling what goods were in which aisle. Nero grabbed three packages of strawberries and Devon watched him curiously. Who would have known.
"For Dante." He simply declared, rather seriously. "He loves them."
So, apparently the decision to go shopping with him evidently promised to get real entertaining and offering her far more insight, than she had first anticipated.
"Do you like strawberries?" He asked incidentally, keeping the conversation going. It was nice to have some company for a change and he realised this presented a great opportunity to chit chat and maybe get to know each other a bit better.
The awkwardness had subsided. And Nero kind of delved into his element unbeknownst to her. All she noticed was at how expertly and confident he inspected the produce before putting it in the cart. Or not, if it wasn't to his linking.
Four packages of dark grapes swiftly accompanied the other items. Four. Devon shook her head in disbelief.
"Vergil." Nero clarified nonchalantly, before moving on.
"Watermelon?" His voice floated over to her, still standing there dumbfounded.
He knocked on it, she looked clueless. His face was displeased and he knocked on another one. "This one's perfect."
Devon did not know if she should be amused or not at his total serious business of finding the right watermelon.
"Sure." She shrugged, catching up to him. To her, who had to live of a single sandwich for three days at least, this was preposterous. And he certainly had not joked, when he had told her they had run out of everything. Literally it seemed.
Apples, oranges, kiwis, bananas, peaches, kiwis, wild berries. And of course, the aforementioned grapes and strawberries.
Cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, paprika in red and yellow, carrots, avocados, broccoli. A variety of mushrooms. Pickles.
Devon's head swam upon seeing all the things he had already stacked up in the cart. And by the time, they were halfway across the market, it was almost full. Nero had made short work of gathering even more things, while Devon had volunteered to watch the cart. Every now and then he disappeared only to drop something and running off again.
Herbs and flour. Sugar. Salt and other seasoning. Expensive looking olive oil and two different types of vinegar.
Geez. Devon had a hard time, trying to follow him in his shopping spree. She eventually tried pushing the cart forward to catch up to him. Nero, completely forlorn and lost in his task forgot she was injured. And Devon didn't mention, wanting to at least keep slightly up with him.
Cereals, bread, toast, cans and glasses filled with different toppings. And their stop at the meat counter made Devon question Nero's sanity all over again. This was too much. It would all spoil and rot, before they could eat it all up, she was sure as hell.
Every so often, when Nero dropped anything peculiar into the cart, Devon would ask about it. And surprisingly Nero would share his baffling amount of vast knowledge about it, like cooking methods and recipes. He was quite in his element and eager to share and indulge someone polite enough to listen to whatever he said.
So, Devon learned he was very interested and well versed in the cooking department. Another thing she clearly hadn't anticipated from him.
Who the hell was this guy? And how was it he was able to gather this much knowledge at a fairly young age? Was he some kind of child prodigy? Suddenly he had nothin gin common anymore with the aloof young man, she had met only yesterday at Cesare's place.
She huffed and puffed, as Nero returned for the umpteenth time. He even had the audacity to look as fresh as mountain dew, not even breaking out in a light sweat when he hauled in bottled water, orange juice, beer and even red and white wine, two bottles of each.
Damn him and his stamina. He wasn't even out of breath once.
Devon had to give and rested her upper body on the cart, elbows on the handle, head down. She gritted her teeth. This morning, when changing the bandages herself she had been quite positive about the healing. Already. Which she kin dof learned happened pretty quickly most of the time.
As Nero came back, she straightened up immediately. But he gave her a concerned once over. "You alright?" He asked as he placed his human hand on her shoulder to hold her in place to take a closer look at her. He could have smacked himself upside down the head for letting her push the heavy cart. Devon put up a brave face, was clearly in pain.
As he regarded with an overall concerned face that burned a hot hole right into her stomach, she knew she was blushing. He was so close, for he bent slightly down.
God, he was really tall, wasn't he?
The proximity allowed her for the first time to have a fantastic, breath taking close up of those light blue eyes, which had the color of glacier ice, but turned a shade darker on the outline of the iris.
Only one word could describe them. Otherworldly.
She averted her gaze, her cheeks had heated up perceptibly. Nero removed his hand slowly. It slid down her arm and he even squeezed in means to console her.
In his moment, she felt like a gust of heated air blew right through her solid form. Like the silver ring of a church bell, it vibrated within her heart. The bell had sounded close an clear and seemed to echo around her, clouding her mind for a second. She felt the twist in her heart it provoked, to finally burst into a longing that made her flinch physically. The longing for the something so bright, she couldn't see it, as her inner eye was blinded by so much light, they were close to watering.
Devon swallowed hard. What just had happened?
One look at Nero told her, she might have imagined things, for he looked as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
The ringing bell had sounded only in her head. "I'm okay. Really. It's just really heavy." Her voice sounded more assured than she actually felt. His touch lingered on, even after he removed his hand.
Nero pushed the cart on, but made sure she would keep up. He didn't mean to grab a hold of her like this. He just did. The flinch, he had anticipated did not come, though. No hostile reaction whatsoever, only those wide eyes that had flitted across his features.
He had seen her eyes were a pallid green. He had been close enough to even see the few specks of brown in her right iris. He had never seen an anomaly like that before.
Her skin looked a healthy rose and he had felt warmth radiate through the fabric of her clothing, where he had touched her. Maybe, she had been honest. And he had to admit, the cart was indeed heavy. An impish grin escaped him, when he still managed to push it single-handedly though.
"You are a show-off." At first Nero misjudged the tone of her voice to be fretful. As soon as he turned his head, her mocking smile came into focus. Her finger pointed accusingly at his right hand.
He snorted. "You should see me..." He halted briefly. The slight comfort that had built around them, crumbling away from him and leaving him horrified, about what had almost rolled of his tongue.
"What?" Big eyes seemed to hollow him out, burning with curiosity. And a hint of suspicion.
With his sword. "Chopping vegetables." He concluded, as innocent as he could manage.
This wasn't his initial answer and Devon knew it. Damn, that was so close. Maybe as close as she would ever get, she thought by the brief shock in his eyes. He had masked it oh so very quick and she acted like the clueless woman she should be.
Nero, taken aback by his almost slip up, concluded their shopping with heading for the checkout. Whatever she would need, he would tell Dante to get it for her. He tried his damnedest to act completely normal. He observed her, when lining up in the row of people. She stood in front of him and the cart, holding it almost protectively with both hands and gave him a sweet smile.
Nothing out of the ordinary, he breathed out relieved. On the other hand, he could not shake the feeling, of how gears started to grind behind that pretty face of her.
The cashier gave both of them an incredulous once over when she started to scan the goods that could help survive a whole company. After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting and packing, the total flashed in a vicious green before Devon's eyes. Everything else was forgotten by the look on the sheer amount of money they just spend.
Nero briefly glanced at the display, heaving a small sigh and produced several, nastily crumpled up bills from his pockets. He was polite enough to grin sheepishly, before attempting to straighten them. But he quickly gave up on that matter, when the cashier shot him an impatient glare.
"Sorry." Was all he mumbled as he unceremoniously dropped the money onto her awaiting palm. She gave him another reproachful look. "Thank you." She said dryly, but it clearly had the intonation of a Fuck you. She heaved an exaggerated sigh and Devon found that she didn't like her rude behaviour at all. And Nero's embarrassed downcast eyes made it worse.
With the cashier to busy with the bills, Devon nudged Nero's side lightly, so he would look at her. She nodded at the completely charmless woman and rolled her eyes theatrically. Bitch.
A broad grin split Nero's face almost in half. And the incident from before was wiped clean off his former busy mind. The change he received was also carelessly dropped into his pockets once again when he said good bye. Devon did not bother.
Half an hour later, they magically had managed to stuff their goods into the Camaro, which seemed to ache under the sheer weight he was misused to carry. Nero went and put the cart back, while Devon stood on the side of the car motionless. He approached her carefully from behind, thinking something was wrong.
Nero was about to ask, when Devon spun around alerted to his presence by the curt footsteps of him. She grinned wickedly and his gaze wandered from her face down to her hands, were she was clutching a pack of chocolate cookies.
"They won't fit." She explained in a much dramatic matter. Chuckling, Nero rounded the car to get in the drivers seat. "I guess we have to eat them right now." He played along gleefully.
"So it seems." Devon cheerfully remarked and got in as well and ripped the package open, grabbing a cookie with her right and offering him the opened box nonchalantly with her left.
Nero opted for taking one, completely disregarding the car rules once again, and put it in between his teeth, holding it there, until he had swerved around the parking lot and reached the open road.
Steering easily with one hand, he bit a chunk off the cookie and waved it in front of her. "My favorite." He announced matter-of-factly, concluding the line of favorite foods after Dante's and Vergil's preferences. "This is the stuff that makes me weak."
The way he said with his low gentle voice, almost suggestive, forced Devon to make a double take. His innocent grin did not match his voice in the slightest. She wasn't even sure, if he did it on purpose or not. But she highly doubted it. He was clueless as to what effect he could have, she just knew at how he regarded - better – not regarded anyone.
He wasn't aware of all the looks he got back in the market. Or he simply ignored them all together. But Devon had how many woman, and men, had thrown him a longing or shameless stare. And who could blame them. With his unique appearance and his pretty face?
Downright clueless, she thought, with a light giggle.
"What's so funny?" He asked in quiet velvet voice.
"Nothing." Devon thoughtfully chewed on her cookie, evaluating if she just should say what was actually on her mind. Nero's eyes went back forth from the road to her, eyebrows raised in question.
"Well, that was fun." She stated suddenly, and threw him a loopsided grin.
At first, Nero was taken aback by this. They barely knew each other, but the first awkward moments had subsided easy enough for him to start to feel rather comfortable. He felt his face contort into an equal grin despite his usual timidness. He cocked his head slightly, pondering over the remark.
It took him by surprise though, as he nodded and spoke, eyes glued to the road. "It was."