Title - Cry, Devil, Die 3/?
Author - trowacko
Archive -
Rating - R (overall)
Warnings - death, violence, action/adventure
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.
Brother.
"Vergil," Dante whispered. He glanced up to see a shimmer of heat drift over Sparda. The sword's surface settled back to its former rock-like state as if it hadn't reacted at all. His father's sword, his sword - and his brother's sword.
Nigel regarded the somber moment for all of five seconds before a short burst of laughter escaped him. "The not-so-aged devil forgot how hard it is to be destroyed? Even for a half-devil, what would normally kill a mortal wouldn't be something we couldn't regenerate from--" he stopped short as a thought suddenly struck him. "That's it!" Nigel cried, leaping from the desk.
"What's it?" Dante growled. The stranger's jibe had stung him enough to make him angry - more so at himself for not even considering the possibility that Vergil wasn't dead.
"One mortal life to open the gate. Two half-mortals - it just might work. Come, Dante, Son of Sparda, let's depart!"
"Depart to where?" Dante asked. "You're tongue moves faster than a roach from light." Things were moving too fast at once for him to process and all he wanted was a few minutes to absorb everything he'd learned.
Nigel stopped at the front door. "You need to find a way to save your people on this side. I have to return to base before anyone really realizes that I'm gone. Prokus will cover for me, but that'll only hold up for a short time--"
"Is my brother there?"
Nigel paused a moment before he finished slipping the sunglasses over his dark gaze. It would've been better to lie to the man and prevent the inevitable from occurring, but the devil hunter reminded him of the old days. Nigel could never lie to Sparda either.
"He remains near Mundus' side. As Mundus comes and goes from the base, so does Nelo-- so does Vergil."
"I'm coming with you," Dante replied. He opened up his desk and pulled free a number of small flat boxes that he tucked into the pockets of his long coat before he slipped it over his shoulders. From the wall, he pulled free both Sparda and Alastor and the dual scabbard to carry them both. He slipped Sparda to the inside scabbard so Alastor remained the more ready of the two when he had need of either.
"What happens to your precious mortals if you happen to die in our world?"
Dante stopped shy of the door as he mulled it over. "There was once a great man - a devil - who took it upon himself to guard those who couldn't guard themselves. Since his passing, a small number of devil hunters have kept this world fairly comfortable without the threat of war by devils." He half-turned to face Nigel. "These people had limited resources against our kind. Despite that, they've lived good lives, if not somewhat sheltered. They rose up in arms to defend themselves before and I believe they can do it again. If they can't, why shouldn't they be ruled?"
"Are those words of a Sparda?" Nigel asked quietly.
"Those are the words of Dante," he replied, walking toward the door with Nigel close at hand. "Who is getting impatient at you dragging your feet, of interrupting me all the time--"
Thunk
Dante couldn't be sure which surprised him more - seeing a garishly clad creature outside his door with a wide grin and wild eyes, or the ornately decorated hilt of the knife that had plunged into his chest. He fell back, his right hand reaching for Ebony while his left twitched at the severed muscles in his shoulder and chest.
"Dante!"
Nigel caught the falling man and shoved him upright just as Ebony flew free of its holster. Three shots rang out and the creature fell backwards with a grunt of pain. The devil hunter hit the wall under the recoil and slid partway down. With a curse, he re-holstered the black gun and grasped the hilt of the broad knife. He uttered a growl as he jerked it free. The serrated edge ripped free chunks of flesh and ravaged any vein its surfaces missed on the way in. He held it up to the get a better view of it in the office's light, noting the delicate metal work and jewels that had been inlaid.
"Bastard is quieter than most," Dante grunted. The fact that he didn't hear its approach perturbed him - especially when coupled with the fact that he hadn't heard or felt Nigel's approach either. Although, there was something much different about the creature that was far more disturbing than Nigel's appearance.
"He's dead!" Nigel noted incredulously.
"Of course he's dead," Dante retorted, "I shot him."
"No," Nigel explained patiently. "I don't mean he's dead now. I mean he was already dead before you shot him."
"Dead?" Dante glanced at the body, his eyes widening slightly as the figure rocked on its back and slowly jerked itself to a sitting position. Within a few seconds it was upright and reaching for another weapon. Spit ran clean lines from its face as it grinned maliciously once its target had been reacquired. "You've gotta be kidding me."
"Take off its head!" Nigel shouted as he circled to the right.
He motioned Dante left and pulled free a weapon that looked remarkably similar to the Nightmare Beta that Dante owned. Recognizing that a combined attack might best the creature, Dante dodged the second knife and pulled both guns free. The essence of his power swirled tightly around him, building quickly, and sparking over his arms to lend greater power to the bullets he loosed in short bursts. Each found a home in the black clad - "Clown? This... thing is a devil?" - figure, tearing out gouges of flesh and forcing it to dance under the dual onslaught. When it sprawled a good dozen or more feet away, the two half devils ceased their fire and cautiously approached it.
"Devil," the creature sputtered through the blood that filled its mouth. It rocked to its side almost enough to sit up before it collapsed once more. Its strength waned, yet it still tried to grasp a knife clipped to its belt.
"You're one for two, pal. If you intend on being one for three, that's fine by me; makes me up by two," Dante advised. He pulled Alastor free and held it near the beast's chest. "Or you can talk before you die. Makes no difference to me - one of you now, there'll always be more later."
"Not like me," it grinned. The coal black gaze clouded slightly as it stared at the sky, a stark contrast to the white paint that covered its face. Dante glanced up to see broken clouds sluggishly making their way across the sky, disinterested witnesses to the plagues on earth. A crow squawked loudly and suddenly dove at their position as if sensing carrion.
"Already the crows come for you," Nigel smirked as he watched the bird's descent.
"Yes," the figure agreed. "Even the crows."
"What--" Dante started and stopped just as suddenly.
A howl broke free of the garishly painted thing and it writhed on the ground. The inky blood that had pooled around its body suddenly swept back toward the body as though time reversed itself. Dante instinctively fell back and blinked in astonishment as the ragged holes closed once enough blood had been returned. The torn fabric was the only evidence that bullets had ravaged the body at all and even that seemed barely affected.
"It is human," Nigel insisted. "Dead, but human. Impossible."
"A dead human," Dante spat sarcastically. "No human can do what it's doing." Nigel was right, he thought nonetheless. The blood smelled of human origin despite the disquieting odor that overrode it. The man was something else, though. "A fairytale," he muttered, not entirely surprised that he spoke aloud - not the best of traits to have, especially when attempting to be subtle, but a trait that made him Dante.
"What are you talking about?" Nigel demanded. The Beta weapon on his arm sizzled dully with depleted power rapidly rising and intent on wrecking havoc. The few shots he'd sent into the thing had ripped free chunks of flesh - worse than the gaping holes that Dante's twin guns had done - and he'd watched as part of its body had flung free of it. Only to 'crawl' back to its owner and reattach itself as though it were such a small thing to accomplish. It was quite unsettling to him and he half worried that his fear was evident.
"If I am the man you think me to be, then tell me why you intend to end my life," Dante called to the creature. "But if you are who I think are, then I doubt that it is I who you seek."
The crow squawked loudly in the ensuing silence while the empty street looked on. The sun seemed to double its efforts to lower itself beneath the horizon where it would be free of seeing the three creatures square off. A chill in the air stirred Dante's heavy coat, ruffling his too-white hair. Nigel glanced back and forth between the two, puzzled and wary. The beta weapon at his command hissed quietly, moving the arm it attached to in small motions, searching, waiting.
"You do not look like the demon I seek," the black-clad man finally answered. "Your scent is the same as is the odor of your blood. Yet..." he trailed off as his caution returned.
"What is it?"
"He's exactly what you said he was," Dante replied wryly. "A human, and a dead one." He endured Nigel's pained look for a few moments and continued. "He's a creature of legend," Dante explained. "My mother made mention of them when I was younger. Men who could return in the name of vengeance."
"Is he here to take vengeance on you?"
"No," they both replied at the same time, each having realized the elusive truth that suddenly seemed obvious.
"He's come back for my brother. What did the devil do? If I may ask," Dante turned back to the man, his expression severe.
The creature's shoulders slumped and it sat heavily on the ground. "I... can almost remember," he grunted. His body rocked back and forth minutely and his fingers clutched deep into the matted locks of his hair. Visions assailed him as he relaxed his guard, forcing him to shudder.
"I don't know if we can help each other," Dante interrupted with a sidelong glance at Nigel. His fingers twitched minutely as he contemplated whether or not the crow really was the link to the man's regenerative abilities, or if that part of the barely remembered legends was false. He could take a couple of shots at both of them and hope to have enough time to lose them while they sought whatever gate Nigel had spoken of--
"I think we can help each other out, Dante."
"What?-" It was Dante's turn to be incredulous. He allowed Nigel to draw him slightly away from the crow creature.
"He's looking for Vergil, isn't he?" Nigel started excitedly.
"Yeah, that'd be my guess. I don't recognize him at all," Dante gusted in frustration. He regarded the shaking man guardedly. He had no doubt something terrible happened to him that would trigger his return for vengeance. Yet he also had no intention of allowing the man - the creature - a chance at killing his brother now that he was so close to saving him.
"The part of Nelo Angelo that binds him to Mundus must be destroyed before he can ever be Vergil again. Think of it. This guy won't stop until Nelo is dead, right? If he becomes Vergil, he won't be the same man."
"That's taking too large of a chance with my brother's life," Dante warned.
"If the guy can't die, what other choices do we have? Bring Vergil back to this side and have this guy hound him forever?"
"The man can be destroyed."
Nigel grinned. "Doesn't look like it'd be easy, though. Come on. I need to get back on the double. Maybe we can take him with us. Let him test his immortality among other immortals." He chuckled to himself, his eyes distant as he imagined.
"I don't like it-"
"What's there to like? We're wasting enough time standing around as it is when we should be--" Staring off into the distance when struck with an idea was apparently a trait inherent to Nigel. "Let's take him with us, Dante. I can't explain right now, but I think we should bring him."
"Getting back my brother in one piece is my sole job right now. If you do anything to endanger that--"
"I won't," Nigel assured smoothly. "Your goals are half of mine. Having Vergil destroyed would be counterproductive. All I'm asking you to do is to just trust me for a little while."
Dante regarded the two strangers who had so abruptly entered his life. It would have been impossible not to see some semblance of similarity between their arrival and his first meeting with Trish. Trust wasn't something he gave lightly, then or now. Well, probably less so now since he'd been betrayed already.
"Even half-devils can die."
The half-warning was the only thing Dante could have uttered to indicate his acquiescence and Nigel nodded just as gravely.
"Stranger," Nigel called to the black-clad form. The man looked up and got to his feet, his expression dull. "We must get to the desert. You're welcome to travel with us if you so desire."
"Are you taking me to my target?"
Nigel nodded. "Our objectives, it would seem, lay in a similar path." He turned to Dante. "Do you know where to find the old Triangle Bridge?"
Dante blinked in surprise. "Yeah, I know where to find it. But the place is dormant. Its power was wiped out when the bridge was brought down centuries ago."
"Wiping out a bridge doesn't diminish the power that was at its center. It's merely a bit harder to reach at the moment." He clapped Dante on the back and gestured at the newest of their group. "Got a name we can call you besides Blackie?"
"My name, devil, is Damon," he growled.
"Fitting somehow, don't you think, Dante?" Nigel started a brisk pace away from Devil May Cry without a glance back to see if his companions would follow.
With a growing sense of trepidation, Dante frowned and followed suit, his hands ever present on his guns lest Damon wanted to suddenly take up another round. Damon, he saw, followed once he'd retrieved the dropped blades. The crow flew above the rooftops. Close enough to be seen, but not quite close enough to get a bead on.
"Actually, now that you mention it, Daemon was once a name given to the beasts that were first taken for devils - and they might have been. My father told me its meaning became to mean 'non-human' as an insult before it meant 'strength', which is where the name, 'Damon', is derived from."
"For your sake," Nigel's thin lips stretched into the slightest of smiles, "I hope you're strong enough for what lies ahead."
"Destiny," Damon whispered with a loving glance at the white moon that watched over the lands indifferently.
'Yeah, destiny,' Dante scowled mentally. At least the lack of real conversation afforded him the opportunity to mull over the events of the evening and of what might lie ahead. Finding a brother and endangering him to be destroyed. Or saved. A dead man and a half devil whose paths somehow intersected with his own so they now traveled together. It wasn't destiny, he was sure. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that had the two not entered his life, he might never see his brother again. Patience, it seemed, wasn't a friend of destiny and neither was it a friend to him as hard as he tried not to be excited and worried at the same time.
'Vergil. You're coming home. I promise.'
*just because it comes from the mind of a wacko, doesn't necessarily mean it's insane*
