He went hard.

As hard as he fucking could.

It was... an hour? Maybe a year? Since arriving in the Sahara fucking desert and they haven't exchange any words (save the occasional taunt and/or hissed profanity). Nero didn't think much of it. It was easier to let his blades and guns do the talking rather than trying to think of something amicable to say to his long estranged brick wall of a father. He liked to imagine he was communicating his mixed feelings on the matter through the clashing of steel and the scraping of claws - because even if he had sat down to talk, words could hardly convey the grudging, disjointed mess inside him.

(panting)

Really, he didn't know how he felt about Vergil. He hated him. Yeah, he hated him for sure. For ripping his arm and trying to end the world. For abandoning him at birth, although chances were he didn't know Nero existed at the time. If he did, would he have done anything differently? Maybe not. Nero doesn't know. He isn't sure if he wants to know.

But... what really stings is... just the apathy.

He had told himself not to expect much from Vergil, but just nothing? You find out you have a son, and you don't even say anything?! What kind of fucked up p-

No. The more he ponders on this, the worse it will get. He should just let that confused ball of emotions stay a confused ball of emotions until the thing faded into obscurity. Then, he can move on with his life. Vergil is a thing from his past. He should stay there.

(CLANG)

"Urg!!"

He stumbles and falls back, lungs straining as harsh breath rips from his throat. The sun beats down in his face, slowly drying the disgusting mixture of slick blood and sweat that nigh coats him head to toe. Everything stings. A lot actually hurts. He's been poked full of holes by that infernal katana, and - although he gave it as good as he got (he is particularly proud of skewering one of those judging eyes with a long claw) - it was he that fell to the ground, wings and vestigial limbs trembling after that last roaring exchange. Vergil was a deadbeat asshole of a father, but damn if he wasn't strong.

"... humph"

The sand is warm on his back as Nero struggles to sit up, to crawl to his feet and pick up his sword, but everything in him is protesting. His abdominals are torn. He's covered in lacerations. They heal, but sluggishly. He tries to stir his anger into action, but finds even that has all drained away into exhaustion. He can do little but maintain his devil trigger as Vergil stalks up, his spiny demonic form blotting out the sun. The Demon's face is fixed in some sort of odd grimace for lack of lips. Nero briefly wonders if Vergil might be smiling at him before a clawed foot stomps down on his wrist, effectively ending the introspection.

"I win."

Vergil's voice is dry, yet echoes oddly as the demonic underlays the human. He is injured too. Some of those spines have been shredded. One of the wings is broken and Nero had bitten off the tip of his tail. Nero's convinced he looks at least as bad as his father, but is proud of how banged up the ruler of hell looks as of his account. He grins and spits blood, prepping some snarky quip to throw before Yamato, sheathed, comes down with a hollow thump on his sternum.

"You just got luc-"

Nero manages to choke on the words. He begins to cough, grimacing as his Devil form fades to nothing. Vergil just watches him, that haughty glint never leaving his eyes. Actually, Vergil's devil really does look like it's smiling at him. Or perhaps he's suffering heat stroke. He grimaces and swats halfheartedly at his opponent, but Vergil continues to stand on his arm. His long, unceremoniously truncated tail swipes languidly behind him, leaving flecks of blood in the sizzling golden sand. He speaks again, his tone not quite so cold this time.

"Your power... is substantial, Nero. Sparda runs in your veins. Hone it, and perhaps one day you will match me."

Nero chokes out a painful laugh before baring his teeth into a snarl. He lifts his torso half-way to jab a finger at his father.

"Is that a fucking compliment?! Keep it. You've never given me anything before, and I sure as hell don't want shit from you now. Get the hell off me!"

Nero grabs the tip of Yamato's scabbard and tries to wrench it aside. He fully expects Vergil to let him up, but to his unpleasant surprise, his father's demon leans down on the sword and pins him into the sand by the sheaths rounded tip. Nero starts to see red.

"Vergil! What the fu-"

"Silence, child."

There is power poured into those words, and much to Nero's chagrin, it shuts him right up. They glare in silence for a moment longer before Vergil speaks.

"Have you never thought it strange, that you - a half of a half - can match full blooded demons? Indeed, hybrids are strong, but you are more man than devil. You are dilute. Sparda is in your heritage, but only a little. Where then, whelp, does your strength come from?"

Nero's first instinct is to yell profanity, before he realizes this is the longest string of words Vergil has ever spoken to him. Nero had spent many a sleepless night pondering his own demonic heritage... and it appears that if he manages to keep his mouth shut, he might get some answers.

It takes considerable effort to bite back a retort. He takes several deep breaths before he is composed enough to answer somewhat civilly. He can't do anything about the scowl on his face, but you know what? Vergil deserves that.

"Tell me what you know."

Vergil raises his chin but his hand is still heavy on the hilt of his sword. Even in his demonic form, he has that same, intensely icy aura about him. His eyes are fevered and Nero really does think that demon might be smiling after all. It's not a tender smile. No, it's a cruel one.

"I will only explain once, and I will not repeat myself. Listen carefully."

Vergil pauses, allowing the wind to fall quiet. When he speaks, his tone is calculating and clinical, as if he isn't recounting something intensely personal.

"Your mother was killed four months after your conception. I had found her corpse after sensing Sparda's power still alive within her... I cut you out."

"...what?!"

Nero nearly forgot he was pinned to the ground by somebody he should be extremely angry at. He been 'born' at... four months? Was that even possible? Is Vergil just bullshitting him? He wants to ask, but the glare Vergil gives him makes him fall silent. There's a long enough pause that Nero fears he won't continue. Eventually, he does. His dry, icy voice echoing oddly with the underlying growl.

"A quarter demon and dying as you lay lodged in that corpse. Utter weakness, Nero - but you were my spawn. I would not see you weak. I cut you out and I planted you here."

The demon trails a clawed hand down it's abdomen before cracking through the scales right above the naval. Thankfully he doesn't go any further.

"Perhaps a quarter Sparda's blood, but for five months you developed within my demon, drinking my power and growing strong. You were voracious."

The Demon was most certainly grinning now. A forked tongue darted out to graze his teeth.

"I ate half of Mundus's army to feed you. I was the terror of the underworld on your account. This power-"

Vergil jabs him again with the scabbard.

"It is my doing. It is the only gift I intend to give you; it is the only thing that matters. Hone it. Get strong."

"..."

Nero had barey noticed that Vergil had stepped off of him and de-triggered. He sits up but is far too overwhelmed by such revelations to come up with an appropriate response. All he does is watch dumbly as his... parents turns his back and walked several paces before drawing The Yamato and opening a portal. The scene is eeriely reminiscent of that one traumatic day he first found him and tore off his arm. Apparently, Vergil thinks so too. He makes a noise that might be interpreted as a dry chuckle.

"And before you raise even a single complaint to me about your arm, may I remind you - your spectral claws were fully formed before you were born... and you used them to great effect whilst clawing your way out."

Nero groaned and covered his eyes with his hands. He really did notneed to know that.

"In any case, the closest town is five miles due east. Enjoy getting home."

"What! Wai-"

The Portal snaps shut with an ethereal boom. Nero sits in stunned silence for a long moment before hurling enough profanity at his now absent parent to fill a dictionary.