HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I have some words that really don't mean anything but I saw ice outside and it made me think of them. It's from the old show MASH, which I doubt most of you have either seen or heard of, but whatever.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, take my advice. Pull down your pants and slide on the ice." Dr. Sid Friedman.

Alright. Like I said. Not sure what it means, but I like the quote anyway. And sorry about the slow update but my new comp was being stupid and had to be revamped, so I lost everything I'd written up till then. And then I had problems with my wireless net connection. Damn technology….

Ah well. Here's the next chapter.

And again, sorry for the delay

Enjoy

One Will Fall

Chapter 8: Confrontation

The whole ordeal was utterly painless and Vergil growled when it was all over. What had been Maj's angle anyway—sending him after Trish? To him, the battle had been a complete waste of his precious time and energy—though he wasn't entirely complaining because he did get healed out to the deal. But still. The reincarnation of his mother was just as weak and as useless as the mortal version had been, so what was the point of it all? How had Trish managed to get in the way of the goddess' big plans for his brother? And more importantly—what were these plans in the first place?

Vergil yearned to know what Maj had in store for Dante. And it made him angry just thinking about it, because he desperately wanted his brother to suffer as long and as hard as he would have, had Vergil been left alone to take his revenge. It wasn't Maj's business what he chose to do with the devil hunter and he was pissed that she'd intervened. This was between the sons of Sparda. Not some random goddess who popped out of nowhere and who claimed to be the elder sibling of the Darkness. She had no right to get in the way, even if Vergil had stolen her amulet to use against his brother. And Vergil was equally furious with the fact that he was being used by Maj. He was not her servant. And he would never bow down to her or quake in her shadow…Not yet at any rate—And not ever if he could avoid it.

True. He had felt fear when she had threatened to mar his face. But that had just been a momentary aberration in his cool demeanour. He would not give her the satisfaction of demonstrating his fear again. He would not be weak—Or so he continued to tell himself as he slung his sword over his shoulder, taking a deep breath to calm his anger and for some reason his nerves. He could feel his anxiety building and as the wind picked up around him and rustled his hair, he felt a tiny prick on his neck and then everything began to swirl around him. He barely felt his legs standing. He was weightless. All the sensations of touch felt so foreign to him. He was detached and a haze covered his mind.

"What…is…"

Vergil was knocked backwards by a bolt of red energy that caught him through mid-torso and sent him sprawling across the road. He felt the small teeth of the concrete dig into his cheek and grate his skin through his clothing. He winced and groaned as the haze over his mind broke and he felt the pain more.

"Nelo Angelo."

The familiarity of the booming voice was a shock and equally as raw as a punch to the chest. Vergil opened his eyes lazily from slits and saw that he was surrounded by darkness. The city and the body of the blond woman he had killed had disappeared and he now lay prostrate in a long throne room whose walls were dark stone. There was no light, save for the eerily glowing pools rimming the walls.

"Master." When Vergil could move, he bowed his head to the Darkness seated before him on the great throne at the head of the room. The large figure of Mundus did not stir, nor make any sign that he had heard the half-breed. "Master," Vergil continued without waiting for permission to speak, wanting to have his story heard immediately. "Your sister lied to you. I did n-"

"SILENCE." Mundus' voice echoed around the room at a deafening pitch and made Vergil bow his head almost to the floor as he cringed. "Do you take me for a fool Nelo Angelo?" It was more of a statement than an actual question warranting a reply.

"No Master, I-"

"I said, SILENCE."

Vergil was blasted back by his master's angry roar and he rolled over a few times before finally coming to a stop near the doorway of the room. The bolt of energy he had been hit with earlier jabbed all the way through his back, making a sharp cry escape his lips.

"You have become weak. Nelo Angelo. I could see it even before you were disloyal to me. You do not deserve the name of that wretch of a devil, Sparda."

The white-haired man lifted his gaze hesitantly and the long path before him seemed to shrink instantly. He found himself kneeling before the ominous figure of the Darkness once again. He opened his mouth but thought better of replying this time. He waited.

"You desired to take matters into your own hands, did you?" Again, it was not posed as a question and Vergil bowed his head more in shame than in reverence. There was nothing he could say to the contrary. It was the truth. He could feel Mundus' eyes bearing down on him. "I know of your plans to eliminate me, Nelo Angelo," his masters voice came, low and threatening. "You wish to take over MY rule. You wish to hold MY power in those unworthy hands."

Vergil's eyes darted up to Mundus, widening in both fear and disbelief. "NO! I-"

"SILENCE INGRATE!"

Vergil was tossed back across the room by the force of the Darkness' voice, but this time a wall of demons had lined up to form a barrier that stopped him before he could fly back too far. He felt the cold hiss of a Frost against his neck and he shivered, slipping down its frozen body to his knees. He remained bent over himself as Mundus took up speech again.

"After all that I have done to mould you into what you are, you choose to repay ME, The Darkness, with treachery?" A large explosion of fiery light erupted around Mundus' body in his fury. Vergil turned his face away from the extreme heat, a sweat already breaking out along his forehead and above his lip.

"You were not content to be my second?" Mundus growled. "I did not confer to you a sufficient amount of power?"

Vergil shook his head, not in answer to his master's questions, but in utter shock. Never once had he shown the Darkness that he was unhappy with his station or his power. Never once had he ever been. But now he was being accused of treason on absolutely no grounds. Though, in his mind, he had a very good idea of how all of this talk of sedition had suddenly come about. He could sum it up with just one name; Maj. But he had assumed that what the goddess had told her brother was simply what she had confessed to him. Apparently she had spun many more nasty little lies than she had let on to him about.

"No," Vergil stood on shaky legs, hoping he wouldn't be silenced this time. "She lied to you. Your sister. I didn't…I don't…I don't want your power, Master." He bowed his head, feeling a sharp stab of pain in his stomach.

"Master," Mundus said dangerously, "Now you wish to mock me? You do not long for my power? You plan treason and at the moment of truth, you cannot even own up to it? You show your weakness every second, Nelo Angelo." His words were dripping with venom.

"What treason?" Vergil exclaimed, "I have made no move against you."

"You stole the goddess Maj's amulet in the hopes that her power combined with yours would overthrow me."

The white-haired man's brow furrowed and his draw dropped despite himself. This was impossible. He was not hearing this. "Lies! All of it. You sister has filled your head with falsehoods. I took her amulet to aid in the slaying of my brother. I had no intention of acting against you. EVER."

"ARE YOU SAYING THAT THE DARKNESS IS NAÏVE, NELO ANGELO?"

Again the room ahead of him blazed with fire and Vergil had to back off a bit as Mundus' voice thundered. "No. No," the half-devil said quietly. "I had not meant it that way, Master. It is just that...," He searched for the proper words, not wanting to bring up the lies Maj had said to his master. "I am not looking to dethrone you," he finished at last, bowing his head again.

Mundus did not seem satisfied. "Your hesitation in telling me so would say otherwise, my dear Second." The comment was not meant endearingly.

"But. I merely did not wish to anger you with the wrong words," Vergil protested, annoyed that he was finding it difficult to clear is his name. "I have always served the Darkness and I will continue to do thus." He dropped to a knee this time, bending low. "Master."

Vergil waited for what felt like an eternity for Mundus to speak. He must have been thinking things over quite in depth if it was taking him this long to reply. The dark twin's knees were even beginning to cramp up and his chest was hurting again from where Mundus had stuck him with the energy blast. And when the Darkness' response finally came, Vergil was nearly bowled over. It was not even close to what he had been anticipating.

"Strike me down, Nelo Angelo."

Dante paced around the strange front room he had entered for a good half hour after he'd replaced the pendulum bladed sword on the wall. The name Sparda kept running through his mind all the while he scrutinized everything a bit closer. According to the woman on the phone, he was the son of Sparda—though he couldn't very well be the son of a freaky oversized kitchen utensil. And Sparda wasn't exactly on the tips of all parents' tongues when they went about naming their kids. So Sparda was definitely something to think about; that and the fact that he had been called Hero by the same woman on the phone. It made Dante wonder what the hell he'd ever done to merit that label.
None of it made any sense to him right now, but he was pretty confident about the two conclusions he'd come to—not that he was really a fan of either scenario. Slumping into a creaking leather chair behind a wooden desk, he thought over them again. If this was in fact his room, he was either: (a) mentally unstable, or (b) involved in some pretty messed up shit, possibly pertaining to monster hunting that, according to the incredibly realistic looking demon heads mounted along the walls, did in fact exist.

"Hooray," Dante said bitterly as he gazed around the room. "I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer," he narrowed his eyes, "…unless I'm certifiable…Which at this point?…I'm not so sure I'm not."

It was a toss up whether he'd need a stake and a deceptively powerful Englishman to be his mentor, or a comfy white jacket with lots of neat straps and a lovely padded room to roll around in.

Lost in his thoughts, Dante almost jumped when the phone rang. It slipped out of his grip as he initially picked it up, but after fumbling for a second, he managed to tackle the receiver and put it to his ear. "Yeah—I mean, Hi?" he said, opting for a greeting to be a little more polite.

"Um…hello? Is this Devil May Cry?" the caller returned.

Dante frowned and switched the receiver to his other ear, taking a gander around the room again as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs on the top of the desk. He sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine, Buddy." A pause came as the caller's response and it was a little longer than Dante approved of. "Hey. Did you call for a reason?" he asked impatiently, "Or did ya just call to hear the sound of my voice? Cuz I'm a little talked out right now."

"Oh. Sorry. Um…maybe I have the wrong number…" The caller said quietly, a little put off by Dante's hostility.

"You would know," the devil hunter answered simply.

"Oh…oh-yeah…I guess…"

After the caller drifted back to their annoying habit of silence, Dante let go and aggravated huff and grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper off the desk. The ink wouldn't flow so he scribbled a bit on the desk top to get the pen working. "Look. What number were you trying to call?"

"Devil May Cry."

"Yeah, I got that," Dante rolled his eyes, the pen poised above the paper. "What number did you DIAL?"

"Oh." The caller gave Dante the phone number and he scrawled it down.

"Thanks," he said, tossing the pen on the desk and looking over the paper. Maybe the number would help him figure something out, if it did turn out to be for this place.

"Well. Is that your number?" The caller asked hopefully.

Dante shrugged and stuffed the paper in his pocket. "No idea."

"…you don't know your own number?"

"I don't know a lot of things right now."

"But-" the caller began, now becoming frustrated. "Who is this?" they asked finally.

"Does it matter?" Dante countered. He heard a muffled curse on the other line and then found himself listening to the dial tone for the second time that day as yet another caller hung up on him. He dropped phone back down and returned to sitting lazily behind his desk, or what he could only assume was his desk. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, hearing the chair creak under his weight. He smiled slightly. At least that action seemed somewhat familiar. And it was comfortable at any rate. Naturally the phone rang again at that moment and Dante groaned and grabbed the receiver again.

"Yeah?" he asked gruffly, no more desire for pleasantness. He instantly recognized the voice of the caller who had just hung up. "Not the wrong number after all?" He asked mildly, reading out the number he'd written down before from the paper he'd slipped into his pocket. "That the number you punched in?"

The caller sighed. "Um…yeah." He sounded a little irritated that he'd have to talk to Dante again.

"Great," Dante smiled. "So this must be Devil May Cry then. Thanks, bud. You solved one mystery for me today."

"You don't know the name or number of your own business?"

"I already told you. I'm having trouble remembering things today. So since you seem to know so much more about me than I do. What exactly is this business I'm runnin'?

"Um…this is Dante, right?"

"Yup. That much I know already. You gotta fill in the rest of the blanks for me." This time Dante sat forward with the pen and another piece of paper to write down whatever information he could get from the caller, just in case he forgot something. He waited but the caller didn't say anything. "Hey. You there?" he frowned, only hearing clicking and then background noise, something along the lines of sharp banging. "Hey!" he yelled, expecting that the caller had just dropped the phone and walked off. "Hey! I got que-" He stopped suddenly as he was cut off by an ear-piercing scream on the other end of the line. He waited a bit, a little freaked and then heard nothing. The dial tone kicked in.

"Goddamn! This is a fucking conspiracy." Dante tossed the phone. It seemed like he would never figure out who he was. And every time he thought he was getting somewhere, he ended up listening to a dial tone. And now it seemed like someone was dead—Wonderful.

Well that's it for another chap. Obviously review and tell me what you think.

I love hearin from you guys. I'll try to have the next chap up soon. And I also have another DMC fic in the works. Another Vergil and Dante thing…And possibly I might decide to update my other stories…Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Anyway

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