Title - Cry, Devil, Die 1/? Author - misanthropic shade aka trowacko Archive - Warnings - death, action, violence, horror Disclaimers - I do not own Devil May Cry in any way, nor do I make a claim to. The same applies to the Crow enterprise. No profit, no harm done.

To every entrance into the mortal plane, there was a mirroring exit back into the demon world. The danger with using such entries was that it ran the risk of someone else finding the exit before the devil could properly hide it, thus ensuring its return as it was almost impossible to predict exactly where the exit would appear. In the times that a mortal happened upon the exit, they had an annoying knack of sending inanimate objects through it - mostly out of fascination of seeing it disappear - shortly followed by a pet, or something else alive. It was the living force that the portal recognized and closed itself up, it's mission accomplished by allowing passage back into the demon realm and leaving behind an almost imperceptible scar on the surface of whatever it had been created on.

Had the human still been gaping in awe at seeing the dimensional hole closing, Nigel was sure he would have gladly hacked them in half for ruining his only escape from the hated world. He didn't enjoy being in the mortal plane anymore than he absolutely had to; nonetheless, it was with a minor stab of vindictive amusement that he regarded the scarred wall and imagined a mortal quivering in fear in the land of devils. A desolate landscape where the sun shone only in colors of blood and dirt, an appropriate overcast for the beasts that roamed her keep. Thanks to devil hunters, the amount of time a devil could remain unknown in the mortal plane was somewhat short, but infinitely longer than a mortal would remain alive in the Underworld. Thus somewhat mollified at being stranded on the mortal plane, Nigel left the dubious comfort of the dilapidated warehouse in favor of striking off for the closest inhabited area to him. In order to get back home, he had to secure an exit before he could properly fulfill his mission and the only way to do that was to trick a mortal into opening a dimensional rift. It didn't matter that such rifts had a tendency to cost the creator his or her life - if anything, such things were necessary when the need was as urgent as his, he concluded.

Outside, the sun shone brightly and Nigel grimaced at the amount of bright light that infected the very air. Pulling his coat more firmly about his shoulders, he started walking toward the place he knew to be downtown. He paid little attention to the people he eventually encountered. In a town where crime was the largest trade, Nigel didn't figure on being bothered at all so long as he didn't interfere with the lives of people working on avoiding everyone else. Before the sun had crossed midday, he'd acquired a pair of sunglasses that took the edge off the brightness of the day in addition to a fairly simple black cap that matched the rest of his black ensemble. The only break in the monotony of his color choice was the silver streaks in his otherwise ebony tresses that shifted softly over his leather duster, vainly reaching for the ground. A smile crossed his features when he finally found what he'd been seeking when he stood outside a building that should have been condemned. Large, brightly-lit red letters spelled out a name that had become quite known in the Underworld. With the sun beginning its descent, Nigel walked up the short stairs and entered Devil May Cry.

Dante took another long draw of his water and let loose a contented sigh. All the while, he aimed with one eye and tossed another dart at the board against the door. His last throw had secured a place in the bull's eye while the other lay peppered close to it. Confident that his next throw would again strike the bull's eye, Dante let it fly. At that precise moment, the door opened and he entertained a moment of panic and half amusement that he was about to strike a potential client that he failed to react whatsoever. The tip of the dart thudded solidly in the forehead of the stranger, just above his left eye. Given the position of the dartboard, Dante mentally cursed even as he bolted upright as he could see that it would have indeed hit the bright red spot in the middle.

The sharp poke against his forehead did nothing to quell Nigel's mood and he took a moment to blink at the oddity of being hit with a dart as he walked in the door. He caught sight of the devil hunter spring up and walk towards him with a suppressed smile.

"Bull's eye?" Nigel asked tiredly, his patience quite at an end.

Dante stopped short of the stranger and his eyes narrowed slightly. Any other man would have reacted instantly upon feeling a dart skewer their head, yet the stranger seemed only slightly perturbed. His left hand dropped to Ebony while his right reached for the silver dart.

"You could say that. I didn't hear you come up the stairs, otherwise I might not have thrown it," Dante returned, popping the dart free. He was slightly surprised to see the wound let loose a couple droplets of blood that rested just above the man's eyebrow. Devils rarely bled at all until their energy was almost completely sapped. He backed away, slipping the dart between his belt and trousers and placing both hands comfortably on his twin guns.

Nigel chuckled. "Might not have?"

"Yeah, might not have. What is it, friend? Have I been seeking you, or have you just found me?"

"A little of both, I'd wager," Nigel smiled easily, walking deeper into the room. Dante backed up an equal amount of paces to keep them at the same distance. "I was sent here to find the devil hunter called Dante. I'm fairly certain there's only one hunter by that name. On the other hand, I suppose I'm also your sport in a sense, although I'd argue that half of me isn't."

'That's why he bleeds, yet didn't feel the full pain of being hit by the dart...' Dante pondered for a few moments, allowing the stranger to take in the extent of his office. "You were sent --"

"I was told that the son of the great Sparda was young, yet I find that he's aged. I'm almost wondering where he gets his great strength from even if half of it was derived from a devil," Nigel interrupted. He stopped in front of a large skull with a set of horns protruding from the sides of its head. The purple streaks over the curves marked it as a former resident of the Outer Plains, although any distinguishing features of its face were lost as most of the flesh had already decomposed.

Dante sputtered. iDid he just say--/i "Hey, wait a minute, what do you mean iold/i?" he huffed indignantly. His anger hid the curiosity he had at the man's arrival at being thought of as old. Sure, he wasn't a spring chicken anymore, but his features were far from old. Just to verify, he glanced in the mirror next to his desk to see his skin was yet smooth.

"Devils age differently from mortals, yet there are certain features that tend to mark the old. Your hair is all white, like that of an old mortal, or an aged devil from the Northern Gates. Your father had the same white hair by the time that I knew him. It is odd, however," Nigel contemplated as he eyed Dante up and down with a critical gaze, "that your appearance otherwise doesn't suggest much age, even for a mortal."

"You knew my father?" Dante's mind reeled. From throwing a dart at the man to being called old to being confronted with a devil - half-devil - who knew his father... the night was definitely not shaping up to be dull.

"There's not a devil worth his rank who didn't know Sparda. Even after he defected to the side of mortals, he was still spoken highly of in whispers, if not cursed in public." Nigel seemed to shake himself of memories and refocused on Dante with a serious expression. "There were those who chose to stay at Mundus' side after Sparda betrayed him and there were those who stayed because Sparda asked them to. In all the long years since we last saw him, we've faithfully served masters we didn't want to serve and have performed our duties as best we could for his sake. When we learned of his death, some devils came here only to be hunted down and killed. Others went into hiding, ensuring their death as well as of those they might have cared for when found. There were some who chose to remain in their roles for Sparda's sake when we heard that his sons would grow in his shadow."

Dante shook his head in disbelief. "Even if that were true, why are you here now? My father's dead, my mother's dead and my brother's dead. There's only one Sparda left and that Sparda intends to live out his life as a Hunter."

"You have the strength and powers of a devil and the ability to meld with the mortal population that you only partially belong to. Your parents may be dead, but as Sparda's offspring, you may also have a voice that could be heard by all in the mortal world. To unite them as Sparda once did."

"Why would that be necessary at all? The gates between the worlds are closed. The only portals that can be opened anymore will only allow for one or two to travel between the worlds. I truly doubt Mundus or anyone else would be able to create that many portals for an army to invade --"

"He doesn't need to create a number of portals - he only needs to create one," Nigel interrupted. Dante had a moment to scowl in annoyance for being interrupted before he gestured at the stranger to continue. "In the past, he's managed to create a merge of sorts between the worlds that should have allow him to free himself from exile as well as create a pathway between the worlds. He's failed at it twice thus far and he's far from giving up. Rather than trying to kill two birds with one stone, he's freed himself back into the Underworld first. Now that he's at his strongest, he's been working on opening a permanent hole between the worlds where his armies could flock back and forth."

"War. He's trying to start another war between the two planes?"

"Not exactly," Nigel smiled. He scooted himself backwards and sat cross- legged on Dante's desk, taking a moment of amusement at Dante's obvious annoyance with his liberties. "He started one war and intended to win that war. Sparda stopped him that time. He doesn't see this as a second war - he wants to finish the war that never stopped in his eyes, even when he was in exile."

"Why are you coming to me now? Why not sooner - hell, why at all?"

"His army's almost ready. With the element of surprise, it's going to be a massacre. At least if the people are ready for him, the odds of his victory are that much smaller."

Dante scoffed. "That still doesn't answer my question, friend. You've got an annoying habit of dodging questions."

Nigel sighed. "My name is Nigel. I have served your father for as long as I can remember. For those of us who swore our allegiance to him vowed that we'd do the same as he did should the need ever arise. Of the last of us remaining, I was chosen for this mission because we share the unique history of having mortal mothers. With my own family gone, my absence won't be noted for a while."

War. Dante's mind worked quickly although he had a sinking suspicion that his first conclusion was probably the correct one.

"This world isn't the same as it was when my father watched over it. By the time he'd married and had a family, people were beginning to forget why there was such a leader anymore. When he died, the world divided itself and chose to govern itself in pieces. There's not much in the way of unity here. If war does descend upon these people, it won't matter what I say or do - a lot of them are going to die before they believe."

It was Nigel's turn to shake his head in disbelief. "That's impossible. You're Sparda's son --"

"His son who was born into a time when the war had been well over two centuries previous. Devil's may not age the same way as mortals, but time is still time and time lets people forget."

Nigel frowned. "The color of your hair suggests you're older than two centuries--"

"My hair, I'll have you know, has always been silver--"

"Your brother's hair isn't white--"

"Stop!" Dante barked harshly. His fingers twitched above his guns as he fought to calm down. "When did you see my brother to know that? Let's try to stay on the same page, okay? My buddies here are getting nervous," he added, patting his guns.

"When Mundus stole your mother and brother, I had the honor of meeting your brother. He was young, but he grew so very fast. He looked just like you - only he had black hair."

"My mother--"

"I cannot speak of such things. It is not my place. I can tell you that in the years following, I watched how your brother grew and fought for Mundus, although it wasn't by his own choice. It saddened us that a Sparda would be forced into Mundus' control, even as we were proud that his strength grew so much."

Dante caught Nigel watching him expectantly. The pride in his voice at Vergil's accomplishments, even in bondage, was obvious and he didn't want to be the one to tell the devil of Vergil's fate. Better him than someone who didn't care, he decided. "He was strong," he agreed quietly. "I didn't know who he was until after I'd destroyed him. My own brother." Dante sat heavily in the chair before the desk.

"Destroyed?" Nigel blinked in surprise. "Nelo Angelo? What do you mean destroyed? He still serves Mundus to this day."

*just because it comes from the mind of a wacko, doesn't necessarily mean it's insane*