The young demon cut the set path of his pacing and began walking in the opposite direction. As he neared the cracked and weathered ledge, he felt for a moment that he could understand why a human would enjoy such a view, but only for a moment.

Almost in complete unison with the summoning of Temen-no-Gru every block within a good ten miles, as Vergil surmised, had been adversely effected. Once glorious skyscrapers of the brightest steels now lay crumbled over themselves. Smaller civilian housing was not spared either. It was possible to say that had he not been there to see the change, he would've bet money that it wasn't the same place. With a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth, he wondered if the demons he had unleashed were to blame for the condition of things. Not that it mattered, but the curiosity was there.

So many shadows danced around that it was a job for the eyes to tell if anything was stirring about. A few street lights still intact and functioing dotted some street corners, casting dim, gray light for three inches or so. Fires lit up the skies like signals, giving away the location to one of the demon raids -- perhaps as a trophy, he guessed -- that ravaged the city. Something in his ears like a low hum snatched a fraction of his attention and as the droning continued, it turned out to be Arkham babbling on about the same nonsense he was prone to say. Yes. I'll enjoy gutting that one..

At the corner of Vergil's eye, one of the shadows lept. It bounded, as if with a mind of its own, from roof to roof. He payed it as much mind as he did Arkham and continued to stare below, that feeling of something he wanted -- for no reason that he could recall -- pulling his eyes to it. As the leaping shadow grew nearer, certain features began to become visible. The shadow, now seen to be a large skeleton, maybe ten feet tall, cloaked in a garb of unimagineable darkness. In its boney hands it carried a large scythe, reminiscent of what a greater demon, The Grim Reaper, used as his weapon. With nothing but a short length between the two, it unleashed a high-pitched shriek and landed solidly next to Vergil. There was no need to assume that he was under attack. Afterall, he had summoned them all himself and if one began to have a mind of its own, well.. He was more than capable of handling that.

Vergil took to walking again, this time away from the ledge, and clicked a small portion of his blade out of the scabbard with his thumb. The demon behind him with the scythe had been sent to delay Dante as long as it could. The fact that it was standing within mere inches of him now meant that it fled in fear of its life. Vergil despised it when pathetic creatures overestimated their worth. In a whirl of light and the crisp sound of steel slicing the air, Vergil diced the useless pawn into three seperate peices before either Arkham or the demon itself knew what had happened. Swiftly, he ran a hand through his hair, spiking it back up the way he wore it.

"You understand now that I have no interest in someone that cannot do their job efficiently." Vergil bit off the last word with emphasis.

"More than anything. You've no need to threaten me. We just need to continue on and fulfill the prophecy.." Arkham's response was an emotionless one. He hadn't shown anger or weakness, not in his tone or in his eyes. Vergil stopped listening when he realised this was going to turn into another one of his speeches. Beginning his pace once more, he set to living in his thoughts until the moment came that he should strike.

P.O.V. Transition

At every angle of his vision, smog clogged the air only a few spans above him. Fires inside of metal garbage bins blazed on, contributing to the blackness. Long in the distance still, there appeared to be an enormous gothic tower erected in the middle of this mess. He wasn't sure if his brother was the cause of this or if it was just that when it rains, it pours. More than likely it's my brother. Always messing things up when I start to get it good. Feh.. Ah, well. This is a party, right?

There was no detectable noise short of the soft padder of his boots against the asphalt. Dante marched carelessly, twirling his twin pistols, Ebony and Ivory, in fast circles with his index finger. Thinking back on how all of this started, it was a little exciting back at his establishment. It's not every day that he got to hone his fighting on a horde of the undead. His brother sure did know how to set surprises. The party was slowing down, he thought. Back at the shop, that was what he wanted. Following the first wave, and the huge demon with that shrill shriek, he honestly anticipated more of them. Now he was left wandering empty streets with not a trace of action at all. "Great party this is.." he muttered to himself, disappointedly.

Right when be had given up on seeing resistance, he neared an alley with an entrance to a strip club, guarded by a large pack of baddies. "Ah.. Things are starting to shape up. Well, then. Let's do this." Dante provokingly jested. They rushed towards him as if craving to see him torn apart and crippled. He smiled at that he was such a popular person at this little get-together. Tossing on of the guns in the air, he squeezed off three rounds with the other, putting identical bullet holes to three demons. They evaporated into nothingness and in their place, small, red orbs with odd inscriptions bounced on the ground. Granting him no time to think on it, one swiped at his head with a deft swing, that Dante slipped away from. He reached to his back and gripped hold of his large, steel blade and came down with a ferocious force at his attacker. That one soon disappeared as well, and dropped the same glowing orbs.

He cautiously neared the orbs and in doing so, caused them to rush at him and enter his body. Temporary shock ran through his body, but he didn't feel any different. In fact, he felt as if he had grown stronger. Dante tiled his head back and stared at the sky. To his surprise, a large message lay spelled out. It read:

Our Gift To You. Use Them Well.

-Capcom

Who was Capcom? Dante shrugged it off and surveyed his surroundings. Same as before; everything destroyed and pillaged. The path ahead of him was barred by a building that had caved over and blocked the street. He headed for the entrance to the strip joint. Maybe there's a way out in here.. And hey, if not, maybe there's some ladies. With that, he put his empty hand behind his back and caught the falling pistol, and then shoved them both into their holsters.