2075, Night City, Floor 43 of Arasaka Tower
Vergil looked down at his hot jasmine tea, idly gazing at his reflection. The light blue of his Kiroshi implant gazed back, shifting ever so slightly at every twitch of his face. He curled a brow and watched as the tiny mechanisms within the optic adjusted perfectly to the action. Swirling the cup, he watched as his reflection shimmer and distort within the container. There was a saying that technology sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic. And the things he'd seen in this separate world would lead credit to that theory. Mechanical organs and limbs for one, flying cars, and advanced firearms would make those like Dante and Nero ecstatic, but software that could interact with the nervous system was one technology that he was still understanding and coming to terms with. His father had taught him that a soul was a sacred manner of being, and yet the injection of technology into one's mind, their own manner of being had Vergil's idea of what the very concept of a consciousness sent into disarray.
What is consciousness? Can you download it into a data chip? What distinguishes a person who acts robotically and has exactly one personality, from a program or AI downloaded with a million personalities? He'd believed that a soul was a soul and could not be destroyed. Tampered with, yes, he'd seen that personally when he was in that detestable form of Nero Angelo, and split into two as V and Urizen. Two souls but one person.
The Elder Son of Sparda, The Dark Avenger, and the Alpha and Omega.
Vergil.
Weakened as he was in this new dimension, he was still certain nothing could touch him. The many "gigs" he'd done for numerous fixers and megacorporations made it clear that he was on top of the proverbial food chain. The number of bodies he'd help pile up could number in the hundreds, and he'd seen to it without a hint of hesitation or fear. He spent the last six years traversing both the post-apocalyptic hellscape that the humans made for themselves and the latter two as a high-ranking shareholder of the Arasaka Megacorporation.
And yet in this world, he'd seen things that unnerved the half-devil. Namely, a special project he'd come across whilst scouring the highly classified documents after he had clearance. The Soulkiller project made by Arasaka Company. A device able to completely erase one's consciousness into oblivion, or transfer and override others. Something he wasn't so sure his impressive regeneration could take, and something he was not willing to test. Then again, his brother Dante would probably just "Royal Guard" the weapon and laugh at Arasaka before taunting and dancing…
He closed his eyes and drank deeply from his cup. It would not do to dwell on the past, considering his work on getting back to his home dimension was still underway.
Laying his cup back on his desk, he considered the current situation he found himself in. He glanced at the gold embroidered nameplate that laid at the head of his desk, one that read: Vergil Sparda, Head of CounterIntelligence, NA. Taking his father's name as his surname was something he was conflicted about, but he could not think of any other that would fit him. His father's legacy would always define who he was, for better or for worse. He landed in this dimension six years ago, after a curious event with the Yamato in Hell. Despite his previous attempt to clear his head, he could not help but to recall the event that transpired to place him in this world of chrome and violence.
2019, Qliphoth Roots
"RRAAAAAAAAAAG-AGK!"
A riot demon roared before it was silenced with a swift slice to its jugular. Bleeding profusely from its wound, it lashed out in anger before its arm was sliced clean in two in a horizontal manner. Hissing in pain, it recovered quickly and tried to crush its smaller foe using its body weight, but a 45. ACP round tore through its brain and created another ear hole as it exited, striking another riot demon right in its heart. The demons, in a humorous fashion, reached for the sky, as if to curse God for their existence before disintegrating in a flash of ash and smoke. Vergil exhaled and swiped Yamato to the side, cleaning it of residual demon blood, and glared at the source of his increasingly painful migraine.
"Cmon Verg, you gettin' tired already?" a rugged middle-aged man, wearing a dirty yet fashionable long red trench coat spoke to Vergil, smirking at his twin's increasingly tepid countenance. He held a silver modified 1911 that was responsible for the carnage that had just occurred, and waved it around, before blowing out the smoke emanating from the barrel. With a flourish and a twirl, he sheathed his gun and gave his twin a rogue smirk. This was the younger Son of Sparda, and whilst he displayed a more carefree and whimsical attitude, he was just as strong as his elder (stronger, if you would ask him himself).
The Legendary Devil Hunter, Dante.
"Hardly." Vergil snarked back, and glanced at Dante, before summoning a cadre of ethereal blue daggers into the air. With a single twitch of his head, he willed them forward. Dante however, merely moved to the side, allowing the daggers to find their true mark in the mask of a hell scissor demon that had been sneaking behind the devil hunter. With a shrill cry, it died, but not before throwing its scissors into the air as a form of rigor mortis. Vergil was counting on this action, and disappeared in a flash of blue, reappearing in the air with the scissors still twirling, and delivered a swift kick to the flat of the blade, sending the scissors careening into a hellbat, piercing it right through its brain and ending its short existence.
Falling upside down, Vergil willed an ethereal blue greatsword into existence with his left hand. This sword took the form of his father's sword, the Force Edge. Looking around, he calculated a perfect trajectory for mass damage amongst the demon horde below him, and after striking a midair pose, launched it downward. The mirage force edge tore through the empusas and hell caina's, sending limbs and heads flying alike. It careened through the ranks of demons, right into the heart of a commanding queen empusa, cracking its chitinous armor with such force that chunks of its shell shot out like the pellets of a shotgun, shredding and killing those unfortunate to be within its sphere. Vergil landed on top of a dying hell caina, and struck its skull with the butt of his sheathe, crushing through bone and ending its misery. He took a cursory glance behind him and witnessed Dante endeavoring not to be outdone by his brother.
"Wooohooohooo!" Dante yelled in delight as he joined in the slaughter, summoning a wicked-looking blade covered in scaly hide and ebony spikes. With an effortless swing, he sent the minions of Hell flying, and once more pulled out two handguns, firing an impossible volley of bullets into the air with such speed that they remained suspended in flight. With a single thought, glowing red blades appeared around the demons, and quickly sliced into their skin, allowing Dante enough time to pull a shotgun out of his armory and send numerous rounds into the air to join the summoned swords, reducing the unfortunate demons into ribbons of ash and smoke.
Despite their prowess and skill to the sons of Sparda, these battles were getting quite old. They've been stuck clearing the roots of the Qliphoth for a good portion of the year after the initial root took hold, and to make matters worse, the roots had spread very far underneath and through the Earth's crust, infecting other towns and cities of earth and feeding more demons, resulting in a massive horde every time they would attempt to clear one.
This was the fourth Qliphoth root, one that was located under the major city of Los Angeles.
"The City of Angels. How ironic." Vergil mused and sent another batch of demons to oblivion with a wide slash with Yamato. The remaining horde, seeing that they could no longer take further losses without complete slaughter, withdrew back into the hives on the ground, and both brothers released a sigh, one of boredom and the other of annoyance.
"Man this is getting tiring. We've been at this shit for months!" Dante stabbed his sword into the ground and leaned his back against it.
"Getting tired brother? Should we go back to your wretched pigsty you call home so you may rest?" Vergil remarked, glancing off in the distance at the last Qliphoth root in the area. It had grown large and gluttonous, due to the massive human population that had once decorated the city. Now it was a ghost metropolis filled with ruins, decaying bodies and the chilling sight of the air falling with blood-red debris and ashen pollen. Vergil grit his teeth and forced away the thoughts that had plagued him, but to no avail.
"This was your idea…" a voice haunted from within his soul.
"All the loss of life… and for what?" another whisper from the edge of his ears, but he knew which didn't come from his brother.
They were the whispers of his humanity, one he had sought to bury deep within, but as his brother, his son Nero, and his human persona V had shown, could not be rid of. As such he took it within himself to right his previous wrong and threw himself wholeheartedly into the task of destroying the tree.
The idea to plant the Qliphoth root was his and his alone, an idea wrought from the losses he had both in his physical and mental state. Losing was an excellent teacher, but too much friction would ruin any person, demonic heritage or not. Vergil could take no more and split his persona into two sides, demonic and human, leading to more drastic action after drastic action that culminated in a fateful battle between family at the very top of the tree.
"I'm just saying bro, I could be anywhere else but here if you hadn't planted that tree…" Dante shot back, before shaking his head and threw an apologetic glance at his brother.
"Sorry. Know you're trying to make it all up to us lowly humans, but all this bloodshed is…"
"...What? Unforgivable? I know. And don't call yourself lowly Dante. You are a Son of Sparda. Act like one." Vergil closed his eyes and breathed in the brimstone air of Hell. The heat that swirled in the air pushed down towards his lungs and filled him with both a heavy feeling and a sense of belonging. Hell was where demons resided, and as a half-demon himself, he felt at home alongside all the fire and malevolence. Yet his time as V had mellowed out his demonic edge, and it came with an unexpected side effect.
Humanity and Empathy towards his fellow man.
Working as V alongside his brother and son, Nico, Trish and Lady had taught him the measure and ability humans had. Individually weak, but together strong. The bonds they form with each other… It was both their strong point and their weakness. Therefore one must cultivate the power to protect those bonds, and it is here the apex of humanity is reached. There was no point in obtaining power without a reason, a goal. He had lost vision of his original goal; to be strong enough to prevent the tragedy that had befallen his own house years ago.
He had become addicted, consumed by his trauma that his objective turned from protecting what was his, to obtaining power for power's sake. A philosophy that every powerful demon in this world subscribed to. In their world, might was the only measure of worth one had to make their mark in their inhospitable world. To be weak as a demon means to become consumed by the next, more powerful entity. To show strength is to tread on the broken bones and shredded corpses of those weaker than yourself.
"Yet here I am, righting this wrong of mine." Vergil closed his eyes and began to pace back and forth. Humans, in comparison to demons, had the ability to conceptualize the idea of responsibility. When one is weak, it is their closest kin or companion's responsibility to care for one. When one commits an error, it is up to the perpetrator to correct that mistake. Humans are social creatures, and demons are inherently anti-social. Despite all his praise of his father Sparda, Vergil could not help but nurse deep feelings of bitterness. To be brought into the world as a combination of two worlds, complete opposites and so contrary that the very world distorts at points of contact, and yet it was formed out of a deep-seated love between a demon lord and a human witch. Yet, all he and his twin have known was strife and violence, against the world, and what hurt the most, was against each other.
Dante stared at his brother, closely observing the emotions that raged through his features. What was once a mask of composure that he knew so well was now a veritable maelstrom of grief and anger. Anger at himself? Anger at the world for this fucked up situation Vergil got themselves into? Dante didn't know, and despite being twins, couldn't make heads or tails of.
Shrugging his shoulders, he pushed himself off his blade and resheathed it with a single clean motion. He walked up to Vergil, clasping his shoulder. Vergil, heedful of his brother, woke from his reverie and after a single beat, gave a stiff nod at his twin. With a wordless acknowledgment, they focused within themselves, and brought out their latent devil powers, transforming into their full devil forms. With a mighty roar, they both ascended in the air aided by a single flap of their mighty wings and flew full speed towards the last root in the area.
Closing in on the last qliphoth root, Vergil brought out the Yamato, and readied a great blow to finally rid this area of the final root. Immediately, a massive wave of hellbats rose to greet them, like a swarm of angry bees deafening their hive. Dante pulled slightly ahead, eager to meet his foes with his full demonic heritage, and with a thunderous roar, sent a horizontal slash that demolished the first few hundred hellbats, and continued to thin the crowd as the sword produced a beam of pure demonic energy that sliced through flesh and bone as if they were butter.
"I'll let you handle the trash then." Vergil rumbled in his demonic form, and cleared a path for himself with a single slice of the Yamato that rendered space and time to pieces in front of him, immediately clearing the area of demons. With a speed that broke the sound barrier, he pushed onwards, leaving Dante to face the mass numbers alone.
As he sped towards the root, a sense of wrongness permeated through the area, sending an uneasy chill down his armored skin. Vergil glanced and scanned the area, but found nothing amiss with his eyes. Deciding to air on the side of caution, he decided that the faster he destroyed the root, the sooner the malevolent feeling would fade. He pumped an increasingly staggering amount of demonic energy within his sword, distorting the very air around the battlefield, and plunging the sky into darkness, with the Yamato glowing an increasingly bright and harsh color.
" Now you meet your end…" Vergil whispered to the wind and was about to unleash his attack when suddenly, a distortion of space unfurled on itself, revealing the source of Vergil's worry.
"You fell for it! The foolish Son Of Sparda, so high on his own arrogance truly fell for it!" A truly gruesome demon spoke, one with the upper torso of a deformed and misshapen female form and the bottom, a demonic parody of a massive featherless bird.
" Malphas!" Vergil tried to redirect his power and turned his sword aside to slice at the air to avoid whatever the infernal demon had in store for him, but to no avail. The laws of physics demanded the energy be sent somewhere, and the energy was directed right towards a peculiar item the demon Malphas was holding.
PZZZZZZZZZZCHSHSHSHSH!
The item glowed with the intensity of a thousand suns, and Vergil could not help but shield his eyes with his armed wings. He had thought that Malphas was handled by Nero… and he himself participated in the fight, aiding his son in his human form, throwing Nero his devil breakers from the side. But evidently, Malphas had a backup plan.
And now he was paying for his hubris. Again.
" Goodbye "Urizen"! And don't worry, we'll rule the human world in your stead!" Malphas taunted, before reflecting the strange power at Vergil, who disappeared with a flash of white and the sound of shattering glass.
2075, Night City, Floor 43 of Arasaka Tower
Vergil shook his head once more and leaned back in his seat, mood growing worse at his reminiscing. When he arrived in this dimension, he found his devil arms missing and a good portion of his latent devil powers missing. His prized heirloom, the devil sword Yamato, was also missing. His personal devil weapon, one gifted to him by his father, one that was able to rend through space and time.
Missing!
Whatever Malphas hit him with, seemed to have sent him to this dimension. He had stored a good portion of his strength into his sword to perform one of his strongest demonic abilities, the Judgement Cut End, and when he had lost his blade, some of that power seemed to leave him as well.
But he could sense the blade, somewhere within this world. Somewhere within this hellhole. Somewhere in this mega corporate battlefield and gang-ridden underworld. Somewhere in Night City.
Yet after six long years of murder, subterfuge, and information-gathering, he was nowhere closer to his blade than he was when he first came into the wastelands. He had thought that attaching himself to the strongest mega-corporation in the world would set him closer to his goals, but in all honesty, he found his hands tied behind more red tape and politics than he was working as a wandering mercenary. It was then he realized his goal was most likely attached to the net. Which was something completely out of his depth.
Make no mistake, if he wanted to tear apart the city brick by brick, atom by atom to find his sword, he could. And it was a venture he seriously considered, before reminding himself he was not a tyrannical demon king hellbent on crushing skulls beneath his heel.
Not anymore at least.
But all of this world's most important information was digitized, and as such, he surmised that a competent netrunner was needed for his goal. What a conundrum that was. All the power in the world, enough to probably level the city right into the ocean, and yet he could not figure out how to access and read through this world's form of "code". Not only that, but all of Arasaka's runners were directly under the influence of the highest echelons, the Arasaka's themselves, and they deeply distrusted new blood, which Vergil was despite his standing as a major shareholder and head of counter intel.
He had approached (sometimes threatened) solo runners and runners from other corporations to do his bidding but the ICE walls set up by Arasaka more often than naught left the runners at best befuddled, and at worst, dead via a fried nervous system.
Deciding he had set enough time for brooding, he stood up and glanced out his window into the neon lights and smog below. Opening the window to the balcony outside, he walked to the edge, and let the sun caress his skin, cleansing the dark thoughts from his head. Taking a breath of fresh air, he recalled that Arasaka tower constantly pushes clean air scented with sakura flowers in the air conditioning and that the true smell of night city became more apparent the farther you went from Corpo central.
"Well, that's the freshest air you can get from this modern-day Gomorrah," Vergil remarked inwardly, before returning to his office and deciding it was time to view his itinerary for the day.
Calling his assistant secretary using his optic, he could not help but glance at the mirror on the opposite wall. One eye, a cold and icy blue, and the other, a bright orange-yellow with a symbol lazily spinning, indicating that one was in process of a call, stared back, and Vergil inwardly shuddered. Getting his first robotic eye and brain implants was something that he was averse to, and is still rather antsy about. He'd almost eviscerated the ripperdoc with his bare hands on principle for even causing damage to his body.
When he awoke the next day, he found his eye fully regenerated and his Kiroshi optic a few feet from his bed on the floor, evidently ejected from his body by his regenerative healing. It took considerable power just to not outright expel all the foreign metal from his body, and he more often than not found himself grimacing at random times of the day, feeling himself fight his own body's instincts to heal itself.
"Sir! You called for me?" a young woman answered his call, and was seen on call fussing up her hair and scrambling to straighten her tie.
"Miyashiki. What's on the schedule for the morning? Vergil turned off the lights in his room with a single thought, pushed the door out to his office, and walked out into the main building's atrium.
"Ah… in the next hour you have a meeting with the lower-ranking executives of the military asset board, as per your request," she responded, glancing at her datapad. He frowned at the statement and recalled that he had left some activities of the counter-intel agency to the military asset division, namely transportation of counter-intel weapons to and from their many sectors in the city. Under Vergil, he made sure no asset would be lost. But he had to take a "vacation" (He was looking for the Yamato in another country) and as such defaulted the task to lower-ranked suits in the military asset division. Lo and behold, somehow the counter-intel agency had lost at least forty percent of their monthly assets to hostile actors in the city, and now someone had to pay. Namely Tanaka and his cronies.
"That's right… do me a favor, and collect my sword for me in room forty-six, floor seven. Meet me in front of the second conference hall on floor two when you have done so."
"Y-yes sir, right away!" Vergil promptly ended the call, before pushing a button to signal for an elevator.
Call him old-fashioned, but despite all of the new weapons and technological advances constructed in this futuristic world, there was nothing he believed fit better in his hands than a well-worn blade. He was at first surprised to find out that they were rather common in conflicts around the city, but then he remembered that due to how advanced this society seemed to be, a melee weapon in one's hand was as deadly as any firearm, doubly true if cybernetic enhancements were taken into consideration. He'd dealt with his fair share of borged-out bandits armed to the teeth with blades protruding at every orifice on their body, enough so that he believed could give some demons a run for their money in sheer prowess.
The elevator door opened, and the conversations within stopped when Vergil walked two steps in. Immediately, all of the Corpo's within averted their gaze and subconsciously bowed their heads.
"Second floor please." The dark slayer's silky, yet husky voice commanded, and a shaking finger pressed a button to clear the previous floor commands, before selecting the 2nd floor.
Inwardly, Vergil chuckled. "I wouldn't have minded waiting, I have an hour before my meeting after all. " he thought. As head of Counter Intel, he was responsible for more of the… clandestine nature of being a megacorporation. Spying, counterspying, subterfuge, assassinations, paying off the police, and pitting gangsters against gangsters before throwing them all into a trash heap… that was the name of the game. The previous head was a callous and dictatorial man, one so loud and arrogant that on more than one occasion he accidentally leaked information to other rival informants numerous times when the man went out to satisfy his vices.
Vergil truly well disposed of him and his lackeys when he came into office. It would not do for weakness to show so early in his tenure as a high-ranking member of Arasaka. The week after Vergil was installed as a vice-captain of the counter-intel sector, the previous head and at least ten of his sycophants were found ground to dust at a synthetic meat farm and were in the process of being made into hamburgers. Video files of them conversing with rival corporations and making backroom deals with gangsters were sent via anonymous sources and laid out to bear for the mainstream media to scurry over like vultures on a decaying corpse.
As many of the higher positions were vacated, he quickly rose the ranks, and with the Emperor's favor, became head of counter-intel within a few months. He had managed to further his standing within Arasaka by throwing himself dutifully to his task as a counter-intel agent better than anyone else's previous tenure. Any task landing at his desk was usually done within the day, and if not, the week. The scandal of the previous head and his cohorts was glossed over within months after Vergil's presence helped reduce crime and asset loss to an all-time low (At least in Night City).
Since then, he had been given a wide berth by all of his fellow workmates and only spoken to by a minuscule amount of people. One such is his assigned secretary, Miyashiki Itane.
As the elevator descended, he could eke out her chestnut brown hair amongst the crowd. He had chosen her specifically for one purpose. She lacked ambition and merely wished to serve.
He found that the corporations of this world often functioned like the demon hives of his home world. A cesspit of lies, hatred, and envy, with every soul backstabbing each other at a drop of a hat. At least the demons have the decency to be upfront about their violence. The Corpos in this world will smile and wave at you, and then immediately shoot you when your back is turned if it meant currying favor and a hint of a promotion.
Yet Miyashiki was shy, nonconfrontational, and most importantly, obedient. She followed his instructions to the letter and did not try to curry favor or shower Vergil in compliments.
The elevator door opened and Vergil walked out, giving Itane a single nod before walking to the bar across the conference hall. Multiple audible exhales were heard from the elevator, as almost all the suits were holding their breath, and the elevator went back up
Itane sat down beside him and handed him his sword, which she looked like she was struggling with, which he effortlessly took with a single hand and laid it on the side of his chair. The sword was nothing special, a mere standard issue Arasaka katana with an electric blade mod, and the only other modifications were that the handle was a dark blue color, with the guard colored a dull gold. The sheathe was specially modified as well, a mix of titanium alloy and Tungsten with other rare minerals to make the sheathe essentially a heavy blunt object, able to cave in skulls and shatter bone with the greatest of ease. To say that it was rather heavy was an understatement. The blade had to recharge its electrical field as well, and as such had to be charged via some sort of generator to fully charge its yield. Vergil had overused it in his previous "vacation" in Mexico after his search for the Yamato there turned out cold. He had taken out his rage on a local warlord and his cartel friends down in the central Mexico area.
They were still cleaning up bodies after what he had done there.
"Sir… I'd like to remind you that you also have a higher exec meeting with the high council later today after the disciplinary meeting with the lower execs…" Itane said, pushing up her glasses and signaling for the bartender to come over. Vergil merely exhaled a sigh of annoyance, and leaned back, smoothing over his slicked-back hair.
"Again? This is the third time this month. What could possibly be the reason?"
"I've got no idea sir, but… it might have to do something with Yorinobu again." Yorinobu. Vergil could not help but frown even deeper at thinking of the current heir of Arasaka.
"Yorinobu… of course." Vergil deadpanned, and looked at the bartender right into his eyes, causing an involuntary shiver down the poor man's spine, like he was a deer staring right into the eyes of a speeding bullet train.
"Give me some Earl Gray tea, with a monster energy drink on the side."
Despite the unusual request at the bar, the bartender merely nodded frantically and rushed off into the back to prepare tea and find some energy drink, as if his life depended on it.
"I…hey…!" Itane, in the process of raising her finger and giving her order was promptly ignored and sidelined for her boss's order, and pouted, before slumping in her seat.
"Happened again. Always with you, sir," she complained, taking off her glasses and rubbing them in a frustrated manner.
" He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence . Perhaps you should take charge of your own decisions, and not let anyone else lead you around like a horse with reins." Vergil said, slightly amused at his assistant's misfortune. "He was standing in front of us for at least four seconds before I said anything," he added, and she merely slouched deeper at his words.
Vergil chose her for her lack of ambition and spine, as she would not oppose him or was an unlikely spy in every sense of the word, but she could at least gain some initiative. The bartender returned and bowed his head, and gave Vergil his drink. He took them with grace, and then once again gave a half-lidded glare to the bartender.
"Excuse me." The half-demon spoke, causing the man to straighten like he had a hot rod rammed straight down his spine. The son of Sparda stared at the man's face for a beat, then shifted his head slightly to Itane with a slight nod.
"A…ah. Where w…were my manners! I forgot y…your companion!" the man stammered and bowed deeply.
"It's alright, I know how intimidating he could be." she reasoned, and merely asked for a cold glass of champagne to freshen up before the meeting. After receiving her drink, the bartender took his leave and moved around to the other side of the bar, presumably to escape the heavy pressure seemingly emanating from the head of counter intel.
Vergil and Itane fell into a companionable silence, one with Vergil alternating sips from both his tea and his energy drink, while Itane was writing something on her datapad. The silence was broken when suddenly, a familiar sound of a call was heard on Vergil's end. Recognizing the caller, which had a symbol of a decorated skull in a Valentino fashion, Vergil immediately switched the call to a private encrypted one and gestured at Itane with a series of hand signals. She nodded, and discreetly reached into her purse, pressing a button that was stored within... A wave of static pulsed over them, making their hair raise for a second before it passed. After a second, Itane nodded at her boss.
"Muting field is clear boss, no hearing bugs around us either." Vergil nodded and returned his focus to the person calling him, and answered the caller.
One ex-Valentino, Jackie Welles.
"Sup V? How's it going in the cutthroat world of Corpo dickheads and snakes?" A ruggedly handsome Hispanic man, looking to be in his mid 30's with a massive muscular build appeared on the side of Vergil's hud, and the half-demon could not help but slightly smirk at his words.
"Welles. I'd be careful if I were you, talking like that to someone in my position."
"What, you gonna sic some Arasaka ninjas on me? C'mon hombre , you love me too much for that to happen and you know it.
"Don't tempt me, Welles. You look like you could use the exercise."
"Hahaha! Fuck you too V."
Jackie Welles was a rather interesting man to Vergil, to say the least. Practically opposites, with Jackies boisterous and brash firebrand-like personality, in contrast with Vergil's cool calm, and composed one. Yet the son of Sparda could remember how they had first met. What was once a rocky relationship turned out to be something of a kinship…
2070, Outskirts of Night City.
Vergil leaned against a pole in the badlands. His duster, true to its name, was coated in a mixture of dust and pieces of burnt-up trash from the nearby dump, a testament to how long he stood there waiting. A fixer he had contacted had taken a chance on the enigmatic silver-haired man and given him a high-stakes gig after being damn near coerced into it by the sheer ice in Vergil's glare. Yet he signed up another edgerunner to accompany him as both insurance that the job would go well and an extra pair of eyes to gauge how good the newbie was.
Vergil was waiting for at least 45 minutes by now. While not one to squirm, he found himself tapping his finger impatiently against the side of his arm and biting the inside of his lip. Pulling his hood deeper over his head, he absentmindedly brushed off some gathering dust over his head, cascading down onto his sleeves, irritating him even further.
"Mrrrrgh…" If this affront to his sense of punctuality continued, Vergil would storm into the compound by himself and kill everyone in the building, consequences be damned. He'd kill the fixer too, for saddling him with this incompetence and tardiness. Growling again, he shifted his newly stolen Arasaka blade from his left hand to his right. He had appropriated the sword after ambushing a convoy of Tyger claw gangbangers. While not his own Yamato, it was still a style of a sword he was intimately familiar with and would suit his needs just fine. He'd had enough of trying to utilize the firearms of this world, shuddering in disgust at the thought of Dante finding out he'd utilized some sort of gun. Such an uncivilized way to end your opponent. There was no other feeling like swinging a sword and feeling the slight amount of resistance when the blade touched skin before the sharp edge cut cleanly through your enemies…
He cut off his train of thought when his ears perked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle. Since the road he'd chosen as a launching point for the operation was well out of the way, the motorcycle sound was a dead giveaway that this was his partner for the gig. Pushing himself off the pole, he turned completely, and focused his eyes down the road, watching as the heat haze in the distance distorted the approaching edgerunner. As the biker drew closer he identified the man as a large, muscular Hispanic man, armed to the teeth with two pistols holstered at his sides, and a large firearm on his back, which looked like a shotgun from Vergil's eyes.
The mystery biker pulled up beside Vergil and gave him a single nod, which Vergil did not return.
"Hey there. You must be my partner for the gig." The man extended his hand out and gave a massive grin to Vergil, but the half-demon did not budge from his spot on the road.
"..."
"..."
"I…uh... Sorry for being late." The man apologized, scratching the back of his ear with his right hand.
"..."
"..."
After a minute of this silent exchange, the Hispanic man sighed and turned off his bike, stepping off and leaning against the side of his vehicle.
"Names Jackie. Jackie Welles." He attempted to start a conversation but was promptly given an even deeper scowl from under Vergil's hood.
"...haaaahh… alright. Alright…I told that fixer that making you wait was a bad idea. Said that he wanted to see how you reacted to being made to wait. Also said that if you'd go in ahead without me you'd just die and that was that. Sounded like he really didn't like you." At the admission that the long wait was merely a test, Vergil turned around and looked at their destination, a maelstrom hideout in the middle of the Badlands. Their job was to get in, zero their leader and his ringmen, and pilfer whatever augments the demented cyborgs had in exchange for some eurodollars.
"I didn't want to leave you hanging like this, but he threw in a few extra eddies at me to see what made you tick if you were left under pressure. Sounds like he just wanted me to fuck with you, honestly.." Jackie further explained, and Vergil merely glanced over in his direction before turning around once more and began walking to their task.
"Strong silent samurai type, eh? I can work with that." Jackie trailed after Vergil, pulling his gun from his back and inspecting it for any deformities.
Halfway to their destination, Vergil paused in the middle of the road and glanced back at Jackie, who also stopped and raised an eyebrow at his sudden action.
"...You may call me V." the hooded man said, and he continued his pace toward the base. Vergil didn't know why… but using his human form's name was rather apt for the current situation he found himself in. He felt weaker than before, with his prized sword missing, further detached from his demonic presence as of late. He felt just as vulnerable as he was as V, only this time he was without help from his summons. Still, his latent demonic power gives him an edge over whatever the dimension had in store for him, and his alias could help shelter his presence from any demon that found itself in this world. If any followed him through the dimensional tear that is.
" That is the hope, " Vergil thought to himself.
At first, Jackie looked confused, then failed to hold in a tiny chuckle and also continued walking behind Vergil.
"Your shittin me choom? V? Sounds like an edgy ass nickname if you ask me, man. And you walkin around with a sword? Hahaha, that's preem!" Vergil twitched at the remark, before emptying his mind of his building anger. It wasn't worth cutting down this man for a simple jab. Not to mention killing the fool would cause the fixer to throw a fit.
"...Welles. Reserve your judgment of me after we perform this task."
"Oh yeah? You think you're gonna just storm into a heavily guarded maelstrom base, and just kill everyone like one of those bad Japanese cartoons for ninos ? Let's be real now man. Here's the thing newbie, I've been doing this kinda gig for years now, and with the maelstrom, some of them can really fuck your shit up man, half-borged psychotic fuckers. So you just stand back and let me handle them, yeah?"
Vergil merely grunted and gripped the sheath of his sword tighter. "Do not underestimate me," he warned, and Jackie increased his pace, before ending up in front of Vergil, walking backward and scanning him up and down with his eye. Looking confused, he scanned a couple more times, before his jaw dropped in disbelief.
"Man, you got no chrome! How you gonna go up against these metallic locos, choom? No way Jose!"
Vergil merely grunted again and brushed past Jackie before an idea popped into his head. Turning back to Jackie, he asked. "How about we do a little wager? We will bet over how many maelstrom thugs we kill, and the winner gets seventy percent of the cut. Does that sound reasonable?" Jackie looked taken aback, before bursting out in laughter.
"Looking to lose some eddies on your first gig, V? Alright we'll play your little game, you're on!"
As they neared the base, Jackie once again caught up beside Vergil. He checked his ammo once more, and performed a sign of a cross, before turning to the hooded man.
"Well? What's the plan cowboy?" he asked, taking note of at least 5 guards patrolling and taking watch of the perimeter.
"Watch me." Vergil simply responded, before taking two steps forward. He then channeled some of his demonic energy into his voice, and with a menacing tone, growled.
" Maelstrom Trash! Come out and die." The threat rang through the air, and sent chills down the spine of every soul that heard it. There was silence for one, two seconds, and then all hell broke loose.
"... WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?!"
"WHAT THE FUCK?"
"SOMEONES GOT A DEATHWISH!" Multiple more angry comments filled the sky, and the sound of running and racking guns was heard.
Jackie once again was dumbstruck, and sprinted away from Vergil, immediately sliding and taking cover behind a roadblock adjacent to the entrance.
" A la Verga, V! You tryin to get us killed?!" Jackie cursed out, but Vergil remained a steadfast rock. After a beat of silence, movements were heard behind the metal door of the base, and some thugs began to man their posts at the top of the guard towers dotting the perimeter, aiming their guns down at the hooded man who dared to threaten them. The door opened, and three of the gangbangers appeared, looking more like machines than men. They all towered over Vergil, and walked up to him, sniggering and circling their newfound prey. Jackie's eyes were saucers now, and he cursed to himself again, lamenting the fact that some new blood was about to die on his watch.
"You've got some balls, I'll give you that!" One of the thugs said, aiming his pistol at Vergil.
"Maybe he's just suicidal. Heh, I know, why don't we knock him out and have a ripper install a bomb in his chest? That way he could kill himself and still be useful to us!" Another one of the thugs joked.
"That sounds Nova, ya hear that Gonk-for-brains? You're fucking dead!" The last Thug taunted and went in to hit the hooded stranger with the butt of his rifle.
FSHHHHHWWIIING!
A glint of light, a sharp hiss of steel against sheath, and three heads went flying into the air. Their faces still sporting joy and mirth, now forever remaining with the expression, never to wake again. The only sign that someone even moved, was that Vergil was slowly resheathing his sword, scabbard held in front of him, eyes now flinty and sharp like the coldest ice.
" What the fuck? I didn't even see him move !" Jackie inwardly thought, his mouth agape. " Sandevistan? Kerenzikov? Some kinda experimental tech?" Fucking A, no wonder he was so confident walkin up like that!"
The guards posted in the towers also had the same thoughts running through their heads and were just as frozen as Jackie was. They were, until Vergil kicked up one of the fallen thugs' heads and sent it flying at one of the guards with a swift roundhouse, knocking him over and down into a freefall below. Landing on his neck, he died a quick death, which seemed to knock sense back into the other Maelstrom members, galvanizing them back into action.
"YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT MOTHERFUCKER!" One yelled, and squeezed the trigger on his heavy machine gun, sending hot lead down range towards the swordsman. Four more sentries opened fire, but Vergil merely scoffed in annoyance, and unsheathed his sword with a quick flourish, before twirling his sword in front of him with such speed that it formed a windmill of steel, stopping all rounds from hitting his person. Bullets went flying in all directions, the friction of the movement causing sparks and dust to begin obscuring the battlefield. This exchange lasted for at least fifteen more seconds, until…
CLICK CLICK CLICK.
All of the Maelstrom members' weapons ran dry. And their jaws were on the floor, their taunting and jeering cut short. Vergil ceased his defensive action, and quickly swung out his sword in front of him, revealing that the newly stolen Arasaka blade was severely chipped and torn in some places.
"I should've expected that," Vergil said in a displeased manner, and swiped at the ground below him, causing the expelled bullets to fly into the air. With another swift movement, he used the flat of the blade to direct the bullets right back into the still dumbstruck maelstrom guards, who instantly died when the spent rounds embedded themselves into their soft interior organs.
Vergil then noticed a speck of movement from behind some metal, and threw his ruined blade right into a container. A meaty thunk was heard, before some blood came gushing out of the metal. Turning back, Vergil glanced at Jackie, who was currently sitting on the dusty floor, legs spread and hands behind him supporting his body, with a look of bewilderment on his face. Vergil merely scoffed and turned back to the hideout, before walking in and taking a look at his kill behind the container. After confirming that the thug was indeed their mark, he turned back to Jackie.
"Their ringleader is dead. I believe that's all of them. You owe me seventy percent of the cut." He stated in a manner of fact, and Jackie merely rubbed his eyes.
"V… how the fuck did you do that? With no chrome?" He asked, getting up and dusting himself off. Vergil merely took off his hood and pushed back his already slick hair, before regarding his partner with a steely look.
"I'm simply motivated in my tasks, Welles." He responded. Jackie quirked an eyebrow and fixed him with an I-don't-believe-in-that-kind-of-bullshit-look. Deciding not to pry, however, after Vergil deepened his glare, Jackie holstered his shotgun and gave the silver-haired man a placating look.
"Fuck man… okay here's the deal. I kinda need more than thirty percent on this deal, and with you being new blood, I thought you'd just croak over and die or lose out on our wager. But I need the scratch, not just for me but for mi familia , you know? Mi mama needs help repairing her house after some NCPD pigs hit it with some explosives due to some collateral. Victim of the circumstances, you feel me?"
Vergil looked into the distance. To a certain extent, he could reciprocate Jackie's feelings. He, his twin, and their mother had nothing to do with his father Sparda's war against the forces of hell, but that meant nothing when they overran his household and tried to kill them all as a form of revenge. He could understand the feelings of injustice in being wronged when you had nothing to do with the situation, and yet you were the one to pay tenfold for the price. Vergil exhaled and fixed Jackie with another look, this one of curiosity.
" No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings " Vergil whispered to himself, but Jackie caught onto the phrase.
"Whatja say?" He said, confused. Vergil regarded Jackie with a raised eyebrow.
"Never you mind. I will acquiesce to your request. But you must do something for me."
"Oh Gracias choom! Ask away, man. I'll do anything, within reason of course." Jackie said, wiping away beads of sweat from his forehead. Vergil rubbed his scabbard with his thumb, before swallowing his pride and sighing.
"I am… new around these parts. I require a man to accompany me through how this city works, and make sure I do not get unfairly taken advantage of. From what I've seen of this city, backstabbing and underhanded stratagems seem to be its modus operandi. The fixer I contacted tried to get a bigger cut of this operation, trying to get me killed so he would get more of his share. I need someone such as yourself to act as a mediator in dealing with fixers and the like. I will be the muscle in the missions."
"Yeah, you certainly can. Barely saw you fuckin move back there." Jackie chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.
"Do we have an accord?" Vergil reached out, with his hand. Jackie considered him for a moment. A pale, handsome man with stark white hair and piercing blue eyes met his gaze. He felt a thousand needles pierce his body at that moment, and a heavy weight crushing him. It was as if God… no, El Diablo himself was gazing upon him, burning him with his soul-crushing stare.
He could not help but take the hand offered, and shook the hand up, and down.
"Ah… Madre de Dios, what did I just get myself into?" and Vergil, for the first time in arriving in this dimension, merely smirked in response.
2075, Night City, Arasaka Tower 2nd Floor Bar
"Anyways V, I'm just calling for a little favor."
"And that is?" Vergil responded, finishing up the last of his beverages.
"I gotta sweet gig lined up for us! Buuuuut… it has Arasaka written all over it. Need you to do your… counter-intel snake bullshit."
Vergil sighed and pushed back his slick hair. Having two identities came with certain advantages. For one, he could live out multiple lives. His first life, was the wandering mercenary V, burier of bodies, the hooded ronin, the shadow of Afterlife. The other is Vergil Sparda, who is publicly a new and upcoming shareholder of Arasaka, the poster boy of numerous Jinguji clothing brands, and also the secret head of Arasaka's counter-intel division. Due to his increased stamina and fortitude as a son of Sparda, he could afford to do both kinds of lives, from working with suits and execs during the day to working with fixers and edgerunners at night. Or even vice versa.
"And you need me to do…what exactly?" Vergil questioned, a headache already forming.
"Uhhhh…how bout I tell you later tonight. You ain't busy right?"
"No, I shouldn't be."
" Estupendo , meet me at Afterlife, 8 o'clock. Hasta luego, V. "
"Hn." At the single-syllable response, Jackie hung up. Vergil glanced at the time, before turning to Itane.
"Miyashiki. The lower executives should all be gathered. It's time. Walk in there, but don't say anything except that I will be there momentarily. I want them to stew in fear for a bit longer. Makes them eager to explain themselves when they're under pressure." Vergil ordered, before taking his sword and moving to sit on a reclining chair, crossing his legs, folding his arms, and closing his eyes. Itane nodded, before turning off the soundproof barrier and walking away, her heels clicking farther and farther until there wasn't a sound left in the lobby but the sound of distant elevator chimes and Vergil's own breathing.
After ten minutes Vergil opened his eyes.
"Well then Tanaka, let's see you squirm."