Chapter 7 - Strange Highway
The train swayed and rocked. It darted down the path, squealing past a town with no train station. The thunder of its wheels echoed by a thundering grey sky.
'Dante' sat on the direct opposite bench, in the same aisle to the girl. The low glow of the morning sun overstayed its welcome, and the gentle rocking of the train soothed him. The steam and the mechanisms slowed down with the view outside to a concrete building. The Ecliptic Express happened to be nearly vacant of people at such a late hour. The little one's eyes beamed at him with a blank expression. Not that it disturbed him, but it felt as though an owl were staring him down. He could see it in her eyes, and she wanted to say something about it, but youth was often hesitant to act thoughtfully.
His left foot tapped the floor of the train car. "Is there something bothering you?"
Patty's cheeks flushed red instantly. "Mmm, it's nothing . . ." she stuttered slightly. "Nothing."
The man glared at her and struck a sympathetic look with one eyebrow raised.
"It's just—" she stopped herself and sighed. "My mother gave me away to that orphanage because of the demons that followed us . . ."
She paused for a moment to wait for his reaction.
The silver-haired man looked at her strangely however, and his eyes were blank. Patty could read no emotion out of them. An expression of embarrassment and sadness scratched itself onto her face in mere seconds. The right corner of his lip winced as he blinked at her. What he told her didn't make much sense. Hunted since birth, not from this human manipulation? What illogical sin was this?
"Never mind," she crossed her arms and watched the view in the window.
As much As Vergil hated to admit it, her moment reminded him of Dante.
When they were young, he had those same small puppy eyes. Acting innocent. What else could he tell Patty? That her mother didn't want her?
He knew enough now to not even try. But her words caught his interest. A haunting or a curse . . . why, really? Unless her mother was marked too, or had she done something to muddle demonic affairs? It was a question worth asking, certainly. He paused for a moment. Thoughts of a witch fluttered across his mind.
"Try to sleep, Miss Lowery," his cold voice broke the awkward silence.
"Lowell," she politely corrected him.
"Lowell," he solemnly replied.
In the middle of it all, his ears detected the sound of a heavy vibration above. Something was dragging itself. Turbulence perhaps? On a train close to the ground? Unlikely. He could sense what it was, something foul and black, a creature waiting for its opportunity of lunch. The demon growled some ancient words in a blackened speech.
"Sacrifice . . . the one," that was all he could make out.
Vergil grimaced, his eyes glaring at the floor.
"This will be your grave, if you touch her . . ." he spat back in a faint whisper; same language.
A man wearing a suit came up to their seats, holding what looked like a heavy suitcase.
"Hey there, mind if I sit here next to you guys?" he asked with a gentle smile.
Vergil shook his head, with a slight annoyance evident in his eyes.
Patty got lost in her locket briefly.
"-Well now, that's a very pretty picture. Is that mommy?" he snaked his head over enough to see the locket.
Patty looked up, vacant for a moment.
"Huh?" she said with a turn of the head before realizing, "Oh, yes it is. It's just an old picture . . ."
"Well, you're not so bad yourself, young ma'am. I can see good looks run in the family. Mind if I join you and your daughter sir?" he looked at Vergil, whose stern look worsened.
His left hand stayed concealed but tightened into a fist.
"If you value your head, you'll sit as far away from us as you can."
The man stood back a bit, unsure of why the he'd been so harsh towards him.
"Whoa, chill out," he raised his hand, remaining calm. "You could just say, no."
Patty was taken aback by Vergil's refusal.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Patty elevated her volume.
Vergil eyed the girl for a second, but then he signaled the man off, "It isn't personal, just go sit somewhere else. There's plenty of open cars today. Run if you have to."
His eyes flashed red hypnotically.
The stranger became charmed, ultimately shrugging as he paced over two rows ahead of them.
"That wasn't nice." Patty frowned. "Why did you do that?"
The Cambion laid back upon on the chair, sprawling out in a familiar position he'd know Dante would most likely take up. He needn't bother to explain a thing to the young girl. How might he convey to the inexperienced, 'I just saved him from a cruel and horrid death?' Quite literally. 'It's just another disturbed abomination coming after you. It waits for you, stalking on the roof above.' The conductor called over the train speaker an announcement, that they were just about to go through a lengthy tunnel to a dead zone and that, as a result, signal for digital devices would be lost for quite some time. He was jovial despite a clear lack of appreciation for his job. Not that being a train conductor couldn't be fun every once in a while.
Vergil opened his coat and immediately grasped the girl, albeit, doing so gently. He really never wanted to inflict any force on her.
Not now that he knew her.
"Hide in my coat, now," he said, calm but urgent.
Patty's eyes dampened, and turned confused. "What? Why, it's only a—"
She gasped, the look on his face the same as it had been before in that alley. Realization set in, what might happen; ceased arguing. Reluctantly, she moved across to his bench and plopped herself up on the cushioned seat. It felt awkward, but Patty cleared her throat nervously and nestled beside him under the cardinal-colored cloth. With her face hidden in the small of his back, he closed the coat around her, and the light vanished from her vision. Nothing but darkness enveloped her. Like a cocoon, safe and protective.
His coat truly was all-encompassing. Her breath hitched back in her throat as she heard him whisper unrecognizable words. Like he spoke in tongues.
The mumbling sounded somewhat like, "Berbaysu . . . adanai . . . arisanthal yeldu."
Vergil waited for the answer from the creature.
"You shall not . . . interfere, son of Sparda," the demon growled, smugly contesting his might.
Vergil felt a crushing feeling come over his chest. His frustration boiled in his heart, making his fingers clench tight and knuckles burn white. Part of him wished he'd taken Ifrit as a substitute for the lost Beowulf, then at least he would have the pleasure of ripping the creature apart with his bare hands. In fact, he made a note for himself to retrieve the weapon when next he returned to the shop. For the train itself, the columnized bus bounded left as the tunnel curved and emerged into the light once more.
"Are you holding up?" Dante asked.
Patty shuddered as though slowly freezing.
"It's so cold!" she whispered, staining his coat warm with salted tears. Panic crept over her. "It's too cold, just like—"
Dante wrapped his arm around her, soothing her shoulder. "Calm down. Close your eyes, and focus on the train. Just listen to the wheels."
Patty's hand tightened around the shirt on his back. The thoughts were accelerating inside her head. She wanted them to slow, at least so she could breathe . . . but they wouldn't. Her heart pounded inside her trunk, beating up against her every cavity. It belonged to a rabbit, running for its skin. The flesh itself felt coated in ice, as though frost giant's hand had wrapped itself around her in that dark. The room spun, and she made herself shrink and shrink, crumpling further into a small little box. Everything slowed around her, the stress reaching a fever pitch.
The grinding gears were smooth and oiled, running as efficiently as they'd ever gone.
They grew clearer in her mind, becoming larger, more engrossing. It grew to be the only thing she knew, becoming her metallic home inside an alien world.
In the midst of her focus, steel collided with something wet. At first, she thought it was the train hitting some debris on the tracks. A rock maybe, or the remnants of some human commodity accidentally lost over the side of the highway over them. But then loud, plodding vibrations thundered through the car, mixed with the sound of carving, deep carving, metal on metal. Deeply troubling, horrid to the ears, lost to the aether in moments, scarred to the brain forever.
And just like that, within seconds, the train halted on the track completely.
She nearly hurtled off the seat, but 'Dante' caught her by the collar.
Warmth spread throughout her, returned. Her feet touched the ground and she pulled back to look at him.
Her eyes riddled him with silent questions.
"What— What the hell was that!?" she asked of him the very first issue hanging on the tip of her tongue.
"I'm afraid you have to go through more than this. To be set free, it'll get worse from here. Much worse," he said, straightening her collar.
He removed her bangs from her eyebrows, attending to to see if she needed anything more. He wiped aside lint from her clothes and brushed off some dirt on his shoulder.
"Security!" A woman screamed.
Patty noticed crimson color seeping from under one of the chairs, three rows behind them.
"Don't look . . . that's for adults only," the slayer said. He grasped her suitcase. "We must go."
"Oh no you don't! No one leaves till we get this sorted out," it was the train car's staff security. "What's the rush, wise guy? You wouldn't be trying to hide something, would you?"
Vergil stared right into his soul, his eyes transferring the notion of hatred. He stayed silent, unsure of how to handle what he was presented. In fact, seemed to be that all the passengers were staring at him, engrossed in alienation. To be fair to them, he seemed to be the most exotic in appearance, hair taken for greying strands, clothing eccentrically over-styled as Dante was often concerned with, and his demeanor and haste might have given off the wrong intentions. A mistake on his part to flee the scene so swiftly and to vocalize his departure.
"I don't know what you're thinking, but you're 'barking up the wrong tree.'" It was the first time he'd ever said a phrase like that. He'd heard Dante say it many times as they got older, though he disliked saying such cutesy phrases. Speaking it as he had was comical, Vergil's humor mostly dry and acerbic. No one really said much as deadpan as he could.
"Oh-ho, really now? You're staying here till we get some answers. How do I know it wasn't you, eh? An old man is dead and there's only six people here." The man said, pretending to possess more authority than he really did.
What few people there were gathered around.
Vergil stared him down further.
Then, broke from his stoicism.
He dropped her luggage, leaving Patty to fumble as she caught the damn thing.
"So it'd seem. Let's go through each suspect then, shall we, Poirot?" he said, sounding reserved and uncaring, doing his very best to imitate Dante's flippant nature.
The man stood back, caught off guard as he stared at the man in confusion. Vergil strolled forward past the man, keeping his hands in his pockets, and addressed everyone present.
"Okay. For the ten seconds of darkness or so, there was me and the girl, then those three. Then there's our dead friend here. That makes six." He said, remaining rigid as he awkwardly leaned back on a seat post. It was lower than he expected. Eh, he'll get the body language down soon enough. Just after he could master the vocabulary; still a bit too archaic in places. Of course, it was just for show. No one really got the Agatha Christie reference either.
"Yeah, and I suppose, what? You were just innocently practicing your guitar?" the man said, referencing his black case.
Vergil attempted a good-natured chuckle, but just sounded like he was mocking the man's intelligence.
He got angry with him, pumping his chest up and threatening to come forward towards the scarlet slayer.
The man just ignored him, returning to a hateful stare briefly. It stopped him dead in his tracks.
"So, let's make this clear. The lovers were kissing all the way back in the corner, thinking nobody noticed. They didn't do it."
When he said this, the two flinched, becoming uncomfortable. He gave them a scornful glance.
"Then, there was the business man. He sat a few feet in front of us that way. He couldn't have done it, there wasn't enough time to get from point A to point B, then back again in just ten seconds. And when we came out he was still sitting up there, unchanged from his old posture," Vergil said motioning to the polite man he'd turned away.
The investigator scoffed at Vergil.
"Okay, detective. That still leaves you. You're not makin' a point here. You still coulda done it," he said, arrogantly leaning on the seat post as well, and also subsequently misjudging the height.
He ineptly shuffled as he ultimately rested his elbow on the top of the seat.
"You think I'd do something like that with her nearby?" 'Dante' retorted, motioning to Patty, "I most certainly didn't do it, trust me. That man has a hole in the head, and I've made it a personal code of ethics not to carry guns. And you didn't hear a gun shot, did you? Besides, she was afraid of the dark, so she hid in my jacket."
Dante lifted his coat to reveal no holsters anywhere.
The train marshal became unsettled, looking back at the girl.
Patty nodded at him, affirming the story's validity.
He fumbled his words, stuttering for a moment, "W-Well, if you didn't do it smart-ass, who did? There's only six people here!"
"Well, that's not entirely the truth either, is it?" Vergil's glare pierced through to the man's soul. "There were two other people, not counting all of us. That's you, and someone else."
The man grew incensed, "You're not seriously suggesting that—"
"No, don't be ridiculous. You were all the way at the front, you have the same alibi as the business man," he said, absolving the man, and then glanced out the cracked window.
Patty and the others followed his gaze, and noticed the window's spider-webbed status for the first time. How could they have been blind to it until then? It was plain as the sunlight coming through the fractured glass. Plain as the man in red's dominance. Plain as the darkening look in his eyes. Plain as the fear crawling up their spines.
"So that leaves just one last person," he continued. "Or rather, thing."
The creature stirred, and began to rip apart the ceiling. It growled and hissed as it showed its multi-eyed mug to the occupants. It screamed in some alien language. The black speech of earlier, the man knew, the screams of horror managing not to drown out too much of its grimly-worded statement, roaring something roughly translated above the noise as, "You rage-inducing dog dick of Anubis! I'll rip your legs off!"
So, apparently, it knew of Egyptian mythology.
Everyone screamed, bewildered by the beast.
'Dante' shoved the man interrogating him from his feet, and he flew past Patty.
He spun into place beneath the creature and held both his hands upwards, clasping a small, aquamarine orb, held within a prism of silver wire. A pot of some kind. A sudden, brilliant flash of sapphire light detonated through his fingers, scorching force surging as he crushed the object held in his hands. Within his hands, he funneled the power upward to a pillar as Vergil somehow restrained the blast from those surrounding him despite the pain it caused him, focused solely on the creature. It came free from the car, streaking out into the sky above.
Body broke apart, limb from limb, disintegrating, the mind of the creature breaking to pieces with the matter of its form, and that delightfully hideous face shredding into atoms.
To others, the cozy, inviting luminescence vanished after a few moments, leaving behind awed eyes and terrified minds. The slayer took control.
"None of you tell anyone what you saw," he said, stern. "A murderer was dispatched and a job that needed doing was done. Who'll believe you, anyway?"
He mocked their feeble brains, shrugging off attempts to understand what kind of Cthulhoid thing they'd just seen scrape through impenetrable metal. It hadn't been a thing one might see just anywhere. The creature had the body of an over-sized, mutated crocodile, many limbs, some tentacles, and many eyes, mostly existing in place of that elongated jaw, orange and rapidly searching. It was a long one, stretching on for many feet, so much longer than any paltry modern wild animal. Those especially frightened, such as the business man, simply ran, but mostly fine.
They'd probably chalk it up to being a bad dream.
Meanwhile, the couple merely stood in amazement.
The female partner said, "Th-thank you!"
Her boyfriend was enamored by the awesome display, saying, "That was scary as hell, but that was amazing! Rock on, dude! Leaving now!"
And they then hurriedly left, strangely more gracious than the others.
That mostly just left the investigator.
"D-don't touch me! What the hell was that!?" he yelled, squirming away from the man in red.
"That was the last of my mercy," 'Dante' replied.
And the man ran.
He ran so far away, abandoning his post and throwing away his name tag, rendered mad from the revelation.
Patty just sat back on the bench.
Business as usual.
"Well, that was special," she said, almost cynical, although she was still childlike.
Vergil stood for a moment.
"Are you okay?" he said, wondering if that arduous scene was too much for the young girl to take.
"I think so. Just give me a sec," she said and used the post of the seats to prop herself up. She, of course, was just the right height. Vergil took a moment, then decided to come to her side. He soothed her shoulder, trying to make her feel better. She felt his towering presence above her, prophetically strong and ruthlessly devoted to the concept of honor. 'Dante' tried his best to figure the words he might usually have employed in such a situation.
"Hey. I didn't mean for you to see that. I promise to be better next time, all right?" he said, giving her another encouraging smile. His second of the day. Personal record.
She beamed back at him after a moment of hesitation, coming to trust him.
"Th-thank you. I think I'm okay now. That was just— that was intense," she told him, adding, "I've seen other demons, so I think that helps. Still . . ."
He just stared at her. He grabbed the umbrella and his guitar case, placing the umbrella within it as they stepped out, carrying the lone possession casually. They departed the train.
'Dante' took Patty with him as they stepped out of the train and swiftly departed the abandoned train on the track, Vergil keeping the girl by his side at all times. He hurried them along, knowing that the officers who'd soon arrive and enter would soon discover an empty vehicle with a hole in its roof. They walked along to the station they had been meant to arrive at, through the long grass on the ridge and the dirt road that rose to their elevation from a mountain pass. Cool moisture daubed against the girl's forehead, serene sounds from the local woodland scene calling to her the pagan love. Maybe one day, sometime when she was older. She couldn't hear what 'Dante' heard, but that was okay. She could appreciate that beside him this nightmare of hunting might soon end. At his command, she feared no evil, and swiftly, swiftly they moved, already well away through the fine establishment and separate from the train tracks, moving through a different crowd, pulling out towards their destination.
His speed was a gift of Mercury, a grace of Horus's kingship.
Vergil pulled the paper from his front pocket and unfolded it, checking for the address on the map one more time.
"So, we are here . . ." he pointed with his index finger at a number. He studied their route for a moment. "We should heading along to Main Street and-"
When he heard a feminine voice, moaning the words 'oh, yes.'
"D-uh, excuse me?" he said, scanning the area.
He felt a small hand tug at his coat.
Looking down, she pointed to their right.
The two gazed over and saw a woman approaching them.
She was wearing a tight, sleeveless black top that barely covered her midriff, alongside a red leather miniskirt that hugged everything but her legs. All she wore aside from that were black pumps. She eyed him up and down, flaunting her symmetrical, alluring face, scanning over the big man's broad shoulders, his muscled frame, his lean athleticism inherent to his trim military stand, that chiseled chin and those deep blue eyes of his, her own purple irises glinting in the sunlight her sinful desires.
And then, her eyes trailed to Patty. "What's with the kid, daddy? You 'peddling her wares?'"
Her voice was deep, and her lust stunk of promiscuity, offending his traditional sensibilities, the hope evident of making his cheeks flare with the remark.
Vergil took it by surprise, about as confused as much as he was insulted. He was incensed by the insinuation of those words.
What gave her such thoughts? Did he look that suspicious?
He continued to stare at her and grumbled, "I'm not a pimp."
His stoicism was alluring.
"That's much better then," she smiled seductively.
The lithe woman sauntered forth, her hips swaying swiftly like a little belle, red hair sweet as strawberries flowing in the light breeze. She lent over slightly towards the man, her generous cleavage pressing upwards beneath her smooth arms, tightening her assets . . . firmly bouncing with each step.
Vergil shrugged, finding her attractive but not distracting.
"I am— I'm her Dad," he said, annoyed by this persistence.
He held Patty's hand, hurrying with her forward, on their way.
The woman's eyes glittered, as she watched him for a moment.
"Oh my . . . I hate it when you walk away, but I love to see you go," and followed closely behind, she came back around towards him, in his way. "Oh-ho, a family man, eh? I like that, family men are so devoted, it's hot. I'd show her a few things if you got the time . . ."
Vergil rapidly looked back and forth between Patty and the woman.
"No," his cynical tone retorted. "Not going to happen."
The woman's face softened a bit.
Thinking of a plan in her mind, it seemed he was definitely the hard-to-get type.
A challenge.
Uh oh.
"Well, you must be single with that attitude. I can tell by how you dress. That's so unfair," she said and tapped Vergil's shoulder. The slayer laughed inwardly, as if these details could genuinely be discerned from his physical demeanor and style of dress by a mere human. What a lowly piece of trash. Regrettably, she continued talking to him, "Call me, and I'll make you feel like no one ever will. Think about it, okay baby?"
She grazed the inside of his thigh, moving her body close to his as she strode back the other way. Her hand slowly trailed down to his lower back. Dante felt her slip a card in his rear pocket.
"Catch you later, Adonis," she whispered sultry in his ear, and with that, walked away.
He watched the woman for a second, as her figure vanished off elsewhere for parts unknown.
He took the card out to check what her name was, just for the hell of it.
"Crystal Daly," he read aloud. 'Dante' rolled his eyes, "How charming."
That could not be her real name. There wasn't a shred of credibility in it. His index and thumbs ripped the card down the middle.
With the distraction dealt with, he looked down to see a wide-eyed Patty.
She was just . . . yeah.
"Never speak of this. Got it?" he said.
A quiet laugh escaped her tiny lips. "Why not? She's gorgeous! An inappropriate weirdo but still . . ."
Dante closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath.
There's no time to speak out on such silly transgressions.
"When you grow older, you'll understand. A woman like that is not someone to become involved with. She only throws herself at me because of— her, um . . . her propensity for 'commercialized affection.' She sees in me a business opportunity, nothing more."
"If she wants to do business, maybe she could help your business!"
"Er— no, that's not," the man struggled to explain. "That's not the kind of business she wants."
"Well then what?" she said staring at him. "Are you gonna date her?"
The man shut his eyes and grumbled, "That woman is not looking for a date— look, I— it's time to move on. No more words."
"Yes, grumpy-pants," she said and crossed her arms with a huff.
The yellow sun shifted to hues of orange, and then almost tangerine. Sun was setting lowly over the skyline. Wouldn't be long now till darkness would come over them. The light blended with the sky, like an orange peel slowly dissolving its fruit in gin and vermouth, red and semi-sweet, scarlet Campari peeking behind purple clouds to a brilliant fortune's aperitif. Long walk, long way from home. The value of time was underpriced for most people. Vergil could never spend enough of it on what he wanted. He spent most his time at the mercy of factors surrounding him. Simply the mere existence of himself, a creature of darkness in a world of agonizing luster, was a blight upon what he could accomplish, any time spent swiftly lost, himself at the behest of the prince of evil by his own hand, fallen.
He paced along the strange highway content, starkly terminal.
"Wasn't I supposed to be home by now?" Patty piped up.
The train station was just a figment in the distance now.
"No, it's fine. We have until tomorrow. The timing of your father's hearing to claim his inheritance. Well, your inheritance," he corrected himself calmly.
"Ah. Do you think people will get sketchy about the train? How many do you think saw the light?"
Vergil chuckled, "Put it our of your mind, little one."
She smiled to herself. His sense of humor was growing on her.
Bleak dusk engulfed the city within minutes. A storm. Vergil's eyes focused on the alleyways and rooftops. Demons do so love to mask themselves, merging in with human beings out of their sight, but he noted they always had the most horrid taste in when and where to attack. Patty looked forward while the pale street lamps glazed the asphalt. They all glimmered to life as nightfall soon began to set in, blinking rabid at first as the power came to them, switching on, her heart steadily growing quick to a beat once more. The dark signaled the beginning of the end for her in most cases, the end of the road by which she might choose to escape.
She tried her best to ignore it, focus only on putting one foot in front of the other, but each time her shoes scraped the pavement, she grew certain it was the sound of another grisly pursuer. She threw a glance over her shoulder, and the shadows danced on the walls of the alleyway, forming odd silhouettes she dared not look in the face.
Vergil's grasp tightened around her hand, "Don't fear them. They won't hurt you."
"Aren't you at all scared of them? The things that come after me?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her for a moment as they walked.
"No, they're usually afraid of me," he replied.
Her heart pounded a little less when he said that.
She felt good, even though she knew it was becoming worse, the threat of blood rising.
Every cell vibrated beneath her skin as she pulled her eyes ahead, keeping eyes forward. Every little thing sounded menacing. The sound of a siren far off: the wails from a thousand tortured souls. The pebbles beneath her feet getting thrown together: something else grating into the pavement right behind her. A dented trash can tipping over from a gust of wind, then rolling around: gears of a million beastly weapons aimed right at her forehead, clicking the safeties off.
She bit back the shriek that swelled in her throat, but it stuck. A lump was harder to breathe past than she would have liked.
A tire track of sweat slid behind her ear, though she could almost guarantee it was the caress of a watery finger. She started to walk faster, steps echoing noise from harder feet. She demanded that it slow, but it didn't. She couldn't help it. The imposing grime felt to choke her, corrode. Patty brought herself closer to him, calming her senses, feeling safer. Here comes another one.
Vergil knelt down and whispered, "Hey. See that hotel?"
She nodded. Down the road some fifty feet was a small little motel with a warm light glowing from its two front doors.
Vergil really needed to get reacquainted with culture, so he could at least tell the difference between a hotel and motel.
Nevertheless,
"Go inside and wait for me, okay?"
Patty's eyes drifted to the side, and saw a medium-sized, neon sign, hung above an average looking place.
"Um, that's kind of far, don't you think? I— I'm not that brave."
Vergil picked her chin up with his curled index finger. She looked at him.
"Look at me," he began. "You're going to be fine. You're going to be afraid, but that's okay, that's good. It's good to fear things. Fear is like— It's like your superpower, understand?"
She shook her head no.
"Fear drives you, right? It can make you stronger than you think and much braver than you believe. Even if anything tries to stop you, you can get past it because you're so fast. You can split a tree trunk open with the adrenaline that pumps through your hand, you see?" Surprise inflected his own self-reflection and he felt somewhat proud. There's a first time for everything, he supposed. "So, let the fear empower you, don't let it be your weakness. Can you make it now, Miss Lovell?" He said.
"Lowell."
"Lowell, right. You understand?"
She nodded to him, a toughened but still-sensitive look on her face.
"Good. Now, run," he said, patting her on the back, facing her towards the building, and she took off, practically flying down the road.
Vergil faced the street, his ears following the sound of small creaking.
However, something didn't feel right about this one. It sounded like boots strutting casually, but the steps inspired vibrations, vacillating from left to right unholy sin, creature toying with prey.
"Show yourself . . ." he whispered, banishing the guitar case in favor of Yamato. Brandishing the blade, he held unto its hilt, still sheathed.
The shadow billowed up from the ground, like a fountain. There in the dark before him, an entity emerged, walking towards him in all his unholy glory. The sight of the man gave the slayer traumatic memories as he tried to register what face it was he saw. He stepped back. Perhaps he was simply having another dream, another demonic affect of his unprecedented return. Was he still in the train? That'd be a good twist, he thought to himself. But no, not this time.
Right there, clear as day, stood a bald, scarred man dressed in black, his different colored eyes watching him with a wicked smile.
"You . . . how?" Vergil sternly spoke to his old affiliate, just like in the days of the tower. "What do you want, Arkham?"
"I'm so glad you still remember our old accord," Arkham spoke in his deep, husky voice. "Makes my revenge feel all the more sweet."
"Why are you alive? What purpose would coming after me serve you?"
Arkham smirked and looked down at the ground, he just remained silent.
"Answer me!" he said, that old anger returning.
He stared up at him, remaining silent as he stared manically, his fleshy scar pulsating across his face.
"I'm going to get you . . . I'm going to get you, and that ungrateful whore I birthed, Mary. The seed implanted . . . you're going to follow your mother in death."
Vergil's eyes sharpened once he realized precisely what the man referenced.
"You'd put your daughter through that?" he asked with bated breath, "All the suffering in the world for what? A second chance at power you're not, and never were, worthy enough to receive?"
"Oooooddd . . ." he elongated his word, taunting him with a rigorous spite. "I don't recall you being so attached to her well-being."
Vergil gritted his teeth. "I won't ever stoop so low to obtain something I want," and the anger in his voice rose. "Despicable . . . I should have known you would sink this low. I told myself a buffoon like you wouldn't dare destroy what he childishly cares for, but you've already done it once, haven't you? After all, it was so easy for you to kill your beloved wife. No trifle whatsoever."
Arkham stared at him, his mouth remaining drooped open and his eyes wild, but not angry.
No . . . they were amused.
He was back all right, but now he was changed. Vergil could feel it. Something was fundamentally altered.
"No witty retort?" Vergil questioned, remaining vigilant, but confused at his lack of response.
The man stayed murderous, looking at the silver haired hunter with engulfing eyes that glowed something chaotic. His temper rose, becoming more and more upset at the quiet.
"What are you playing at? Did you think I was going to be out for your blood?" he spat venomously at the man.
Silence.
"Say something!" he shouted, half demonic as his eyes glowed crimson.
A splitting pain broken across his forehead as stumbled back, grabbing his head with his right hand. Grunting in pain, he fell to on one knee, the coarse road scraping his skin as he shut his eyes; skin felt warm, pain resembling a brick that had crashed across his face. Crushing, crushing, crushing, compressed, his left hand grasping the other side now, horrid paralytic torture, the stink of devilry on his breath. So much pressure. Building and building.
'Stop.'
'Stop!'
'STOOOOOO-'
"-AAAAAHHH!" he bellowed, a shriek of razed black squelching from his lips as he raised his head from his palms, possessed of more blistering ire than a star.
Iris and pupil faded to a sea of rubies, glowing a spectral, soulless crimson. Teeth bared themselves an untamed wolf, jaw clamping down so hard that his molars nearly shattered. He launched forward off his feet with a fist, Yamato fallen by the wayside. Vergil blasted forward like a bullet, launching a sonic strike with all his strength, drawing upon his darker half for more. It connected with Arkham's nose, and his whole body bloated.
Vermillion hatred burst into the night like a symphony, and his knuckles punctured the man's head, seemingly impaling the skull on his arm.
Pop.
His bicep remained lodged inside rubber remains, confetti falling around him.
The man's body snapped like a balloon. The hunter dropped on the spot, resting on his knees a moment.
"Mary . . ." he whispered to himself.
His mind raced along, reflecting Arkham's meaning. He knew what might transpire, but how? That part was troublesome.
Mary left to be raped of freedom, stripped of youth and love, torn of her life to death's unfeeling grasp in the demonic grasp of her father reborn.
"No more . . . no more. That's far enough," he pulled from his pocket Dante's phone and began searching the contacts.
He stumbled upon a number with the name 'Lady' attached. Description: sexy rocket launcher hunter.
Vergil rolled his eyes. Really? Still, he respected the choice of alias, considering their last engagement. He pressed call and waited.
And waited.
. . . And waited.
. . . And waited . . .
"Come on, answer, you brat."
. . .
. . .
. . .
He sighed and gave up.
Pained, he grumbled, "Alone, I cannot do this."
He summoned Yamato to his side within the guitar case and filtered through reality to his dark hand. He stepped up and moved on towards the motel. As he came to the glass door, he noticed Patty waiting for him on a bench. He touched the handle and the door opened with a creak, an attached bell ringing. He noticed it and grabbed the little wreath, ripping it from the top of the door. Vergil didn't even look at it, tossing the wretched thing into the disposal bin.
Patty observed a change in him. He was slouched and depressed, a far cry from the more confident man she'd been walking with.
The place inside was half lit, mostly barren and barely kept up, ratty, dingy, sad. With flays around a small lamp over the reception's desk, it looked like it was still decorated for Christmas, despite the holiday having been over for more than a month. A man with messy, inked hair sat reluctantly, his back facing them.
"Give me a room," the slayer said, his grim anger leaking into his face.
"Hmm, one adult and a child . . ." the man rasped. He opened a drawer and took a key with the number 14. He threw it backward for Vergil to catch. "Enjoy."
Vergil was silent for a moment and observed the man.
Something felt wrong.
"Are you okay?" the girl tugged at his hand, whispering to him.
A nod came in reply, "Let's go."
He took her hand and went for the stairs. Their room, located down the hall, wasn't fancy— a ridiculous assumption within a place such as this— but at the very least it was full enough for the two to move around inside freely. There was one twin size bed and a window directly next to it. Not ideal, of course. Auburn carpet, borderline brown. He doubted that was its original shade. A blacklight would reveal bad things to humankind, but he did not require such technology to see.
The sink had soap scum and dried water stains all over the faucet. It was exposed openly to the main room, while the toilet and shower tub were isolated in a small outlet, but a very tight door.
He went to the window and peeked through the old, discolored blinds.
Patty ran and threw herself upon the bed. "I'm tired."
"Sleep. You need it." Vergil moved away from the window.
"Good idea. I hadn't thought of that," she chuckled and took her hat, placing it to the side of the crummy headboard. Once her head fell upon the pillow, she was fast asleep.
Vergil crashed on the seedy couch and stretched his legs. They creaked and popped, like old floorboards. No matter how strong he was, he still got sore. His eyes moved up to the ceiling.
And Vergil's mind drifted elsewhere.
"But mom, I'm strong now! I can help fight back!" the voice of a small tween echoed.
"Sweetheart. I know you've grown strong, but that doesn't mean you should put yourself in danger to prove it," the gentle feminine voice of Eva replied sternly. "You need to be careful. Think about the consequences before you do something. You don't see how a bad thing can happen."
. . .
"Mother . . ." Vergil whispered. He kept on relaxing, when his ear caught an unusual sound.
He shot up from the couch, and, to his dismay, Patty was nowhere to be seen.
His face scrunched into a scowl, and he left the room, sprinting in seconds to the front desk.
He charged up, coldly barking his cover, "Where's my daughter?"
"Huh? I dunno whatcha talkin' about."
Vergil felt the urge to murder. He grabbed the man by his jacket and pulled him roughly face-to-face, up over his desk out of the chair.
"I'm going to say this just once to you," and his eyes flashed red. "Where. Is. Patty?"
The man squirmed in his arms, begging release back to his worn leather seat.
"Dah-! O-okay! My name is Sid and if you break my neck I won't be able to help you. Put me down, please!" he replied, speaking a million miles an hour.
He had to know where she was, where she'd gone. Patty herself didn't seem to know. She found herself walking in what seemed to be the entryway of an opera house, but she wasn't sure of herself or how she'd happened upon this place. The voice of a woman sent shivers through the walls from how powerful it was, how pure. She took a left and there was a half-opened, wood door.
A light snuck beneath it, "Mom!"
She screamed and ran inside, not really paying attention to where she was going.
The theater hall had no lights, other than the stage itself, where a blonde woman in a pink dress stood.
A bright smile graced her face. Mother. As if time slowed, Patty ran toward her, but never grew close enough, the image slowly turning to darkness. Hungry teeth took her place and she screamed. From another dimension it seemed, she felt strong hands clasp around her shoulders and she was pushed into someone's chest. Heat began to rise, as though the one who'd found her was on fire.
"Dante!?" she shouted once she realized who it was.
"Why would you do that!?" he screamed, throwing her down into a chair.
He summoned Yamato and slashed at the darkness, creating a swirl of slashes and supra cosmic light shafts pulverizing the air, lacerating flesh unseen. She stared on in wonder and awe at occasional sparks and dimensional bursts of radiance lancing through the dark. Rage lit the dark and Vergil powered on through, scarlet wrath flowing through the air, brimming from his eyes, curtain pulling across the backstage that separated mortal from demon, the danger.
She kept watching, eyes glued to the action, silhouettes of her guardian hacking his way through endless waves of enemies behind the cloth.
Sparks from metal on metal.
Once, she heard him grunt. Did one get a lucky shot?
It didn't matter, they all lost their heads eventually.
And in the end, he proved victorious, emerging from the dark covered in sanguine sweat. He was panting, exhaling hard. Blinded by his anger, he'd let his guard down. Wounds opened his flesh. Once Patty heard the complete silence come, she'd stood, but immediately met his frosty gaze. Vergil trudged towards her, exhausted and very, very cross.
"Why did you leave the room! It was safe there!" he looked at her, scornful yet again. "If I was late, you would be dead, child."
Patty's eyes fell to the ground. "I—I'm sorry. It's just— I saw my— I saw my mom," and tears fell to the floor, she remained defeated. "I wanted to see her again. I— I just wanted to know what her hug felt like again."
Vergil glared at her but his hard stare turned soft.
He sighed, kneeling down to join her at eye level.
He touched her shoulders and held her gaze.
"You can't be stupid out here. This isn't the orphanage, this is the real world. Think about the consequences before you do something. You don't see how a bad thing can happen," he chose not to sugarcoat it, she did a damn stupid thing just now.
Patty's eyes met his for a moment.
". . . I'm sorry," she replied, wiping her tears away, sniffling and catching in her breath.
He stood and walked by her, making his way for the exit.
"Th-thank you," she said, and he stopped.
Vergil looked back at her, and held out his hand.
She jogged forward and took it.
With weary eyes, he said, "Lets go home."
. . .
Lady lived in an apartment complex hidden away near her favorite theater just one door down on the fifth floor. An elevator was required to get to it, and it often felt like a private world, a retreat from all that her horrible job inspired. Death and hatred to mankind. But here, no, none of that. It was prosperous, well-kept. She had an average view of the street and the sky above it. Through the balcony, she could view most everything around, her's being one of many small outcroppings on the tall face of the structure. It was, essentially, a concrete ledge with rough-square edges, and a rusted railing.
Still, even so, it was her own oasis, a spot to relax and enjoy the wind.
The bounty hunter sat there, dominated by a profound sadness, fatigue engraved on her pretty face. She warmed her shivering hands together.
'He broke your spirit, didn't he?'
The words kept playing in her mind like twisted torture. Lady clenched her fists, anger flaring ever so often.
"I'm not weak . . . I'm not," she repeated, over and over.
Thinking back to what had started this phase, Patty couldn't find her the answer to her question.
"Mary died a long time ago. I'm not running from anything."
Why did she say that? Was it embarrassment that she belonged to such a father? Losing her beloved mother to him . . . Damn it! She stomped the cold floor. She hissed a breath through clenched teeth. But the strength left her, even as she attempted to stand. Her throat held back something between a sob and a shout. She had to see him again. They needed to talk and settle the matter. As far as she and Dante were concerned, she was through running a long time ago, her past settled and moved on from.
Well, Dante: the way he was before. What happened to him?
The necklace around her neck shifted and shook on her, abnormal to a fault. A parting gift from her mother, it was something enchanted to protect herself from any demon nearby. She wore it always, in honor of the love of her lost one, or at least pay respect to the memory.
The necklace was supposed to belong to her, but Kalina Ann died young.
"Well . . ." she started as she took it off her neck and stared into the amber jewel. "That's special."
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this :)
Note: If there's anyone maybe confused by this point, Vergil bares Dante's appearance from dmc2, red clothes, hair style and all.
Special thanks to my beta reader Angel wolf.