I deleted some of the more negative reviews so I can organize my thoughts and keep things straight, that is all :) I answered them at the end of this chapter.
Chapter 11 - Daylight Again
Years Ago
"Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty!"
Hide-and-go-seek was their game of the evening.
Two days of rain with no signs of stopping meant mud, mud, and more mud. Vergil already knew where Dante were.
They always hid in the same spot.
Twins like to stick together, it seemed.
"Where could he be . . ." He muttered convincingly, as the younger twin giggled somewhere in the house. He tiptoed down the hall and peeked into their room.
"Oh well, I'll never find you! Maybe . . . here!" He shouted as he dropped to the floor and pulled the covers back.
"Err, guess not . . ." He continued searching the empty space under the bed, "How about . . . here!" Shouting again at an empty closet this time.
'He really is make me work for it this time. I never imagined he would get more creative,' He thought.
Nothing in the bath, no one in the laundry room . . .
He knew Dante was too scared to venture into the basement without him, but decided to check after he'd exhausted all other options.
Vergil noisily stamped down the stairs to announce his presence, hoping to elicit some giggles and shuffling.
"I'm going to find you!" He sang.
He stopped. Their was an uncanny silence.
With a seven-year-old, reckless brother, the only 'quiet' he ever experienced was theoretical.
"Dante! Come on, you win! I give up!" He shouted merrily.
. . . Nothing.
"You win!" he shouted with slightly more urgency.
. . . Still nothing.
"Mom's going to be real mad at us if we're late for dinner again! Come on now, it's time to go back!"
. . . Once more, nothing.
A sense of dread slowly crept upon him.
"All right, how about this!? If you come out now, I'll give you half of my personal pan pizza, okay? Enough playing." Vergil was getting angry as much as he was afraid.
A minute passed, and the panic set in.
"All right! All right Dante! Come out! Now! If you don't come out, you're going to be in trouble, I'm going to tell mom!" He shouted in his serious voice.
It was just like his voice would be in the years that followed, gravelly and deep.
Strange that a kid could reach this already, but he wasn't an ordinary person.
"Dante Anthony Sparda, you better come out this instant!" His voice changed to the voice of a man.
Vergil suddenly heard movement above him and sprinted up the stairs.
"What on earth took you so long!?" He fussed as the kid reached the ground level, "I was starting to get wor-" He froze.
He wasn't in the old house anymore.
A giant, winged statue was hovering above him. It's voice boomed.
"Useless being," The voice that always sent a shiver down his spine.
A foot ahead of him stood his twin, his back facing him.
"Dante?" Vergil whispered.
Without much thoughts he raced forward, but every-time he got close, the distance between the two widened.
Out of nowhere he felt hands grab his shoulders and pin him in the spot.
Flames erupted all over the place and right in front of him, the fire ate his brother ever so slowly.
"THE SAVIOR!" He heard the voice of a man scream.
"No!" He screamed, but his voice was echoey, almost lost in an unknown noise.
...
His head was filled with images. He felt sharp, alive. Suddenly his eyes shot open, vermillion.
"Another one." He mumbled.
...
Lady's Apartment
Lady had no Idea how long she stayed there on her concrete balcony, watching the scene unfold, down in the street. She was able to sleep for, like, an hour and a half.
Enough to make her feel better after such battle.
However her body still hurts in places.
There wasn't a mistake of what she heard. 'You took a great trouncing Vergil.' Why would Arkham say that while facing Dante?
Unless . . .
Is it possible . . . ?
'No that's crazy? Vergil is dead. He's long gone with the tower.' Lady reaffirmed for herself in her head.
She knew this for sure, the way Dante was grieving in his own way and his happiness felt empty in his eyes.
. . . 3 years ago . . .
Lady laid down on the couch, sensing the cold chill in her spine. It was great weather, honestly. Dante was setting in his arm chair, legs up the desk.
He looked quiet, never cracking a joke for awhile now.
"I wonder, what kind of relationship the two of you had?" She said and immediately regretted it, "I'm sorry."
Dante sighed.
"If I had a quarter every time someone's asked, I'd be rich." He said with a grin
Lady made a face, both annoyed and happy.
"Yeah sure, whatever you say." She said.
Dante left the chair and paced slowly to the window, listening to the wind rustle by. The moon on the horizon looked cold to his eyes.
"It was for the best, I had to do it." He whispered." What choice did I have?" His voice got quiet.
He made a motion forward with his whole torso, seemingly in pain.
Lady took notice, coming to his side. She placed her hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?"
He suddenly came back to normalcy, suppressing the pain.
"Heh, yeah, of course. It's just a side effect; price to play for the party, mind you."
. . .
It took her a while to catch on, though she knew the nature of his pain. She could relate very much, having lost her own family the same day.
Lady heaved a long breath. She had to relax and forget it, or else madness would surely consume her.
The huntress made up her mind to take a walk; just her, alone without weapons, and be normal for a short time.
Walking back in, she headed straight to the bedroom. Her room was a bit small and comfy, with a dark, grey-blue color to the barren walls.
A twin size bed, covered with maroon covers and dark pillows.
Lady stopped in front of the mirror of her dresser. Her reflection . . .
"Maybe I should change my look."
The expression changed into sadness. And through a blur, a crack in the middle appeared. It spider-webbed out and distorted her reflection, making it ugly and tattered.
Her face came to look as though years of sin had etched themselves into her flesh.
Behind her, a dark shadow appeared, like that of an encroaching hand.
Lady closed her eyes tightly and grasped her arms.
'It's not real.'
Once she opened her eyes, nothing was there.
The mirror was normal.
In a hurry she took out her black, hooded-poncho and went out for the front door.
Chatters can be heard nearby. A number of cars passing.
Lady knew the story of the witch in the stars by heart. In fact, every time she saw the cluster, she could hear the sound of her mother's voice telling her the tale when she was a kid.
Perhaps that was why she enjoyed spending so much time outside at night. It helped her relax so much.
And she needed peace now more than ever before, now that her past came back to bite her once again.
Just the mere thought that she had to do it all over shocked her to the core.
Only this time, she didn't know if she could rely on Dante.
"The raven haired priestess will always protect you - you are descendant from her bloodline!"
Her mother used to tell that to her quite often when they ran away from her father; not like she actually believed it, but still it comforted her after all this time.
Her mother looked like a bird with no wings.
"I'm sorry Mary, please forgive me. I didn't know . . . I never imagined he'd ever do such a thing."
But walking here under the stars, with nothing but her thoughts and the sky staring back at her, made her feel as though everything's going to be okay.
"I hope you forgave me mother. For not being able to protect you like I should've." She choked on air.
It didn't help that whenever she began to shed a tear, a slight breeze would rise from the stillness and ruffle through her hair. It felt much like her mother's hand did when comforting her.
Yes, Lady liked to spend as much time as possible outside.
It was the best time to listen to the crickets, hear the train passing in the distance, and it was also the best time to find the neighborhood cats roaming about the tops of the fence posts.
So much magic seemed to appear at night - it was as if the world came alive with the setting of the sun.
Her only complaint was the fact that, once her imagination began to soar, sunrise came far too fast.
Lady took a turn left and her eyes were confused at first. A blonde haired woman, not quite normal, drifted around her in a haze, almost like the form of a mist.
Lovely was her face as she spoke to Lady, and soon, the huntress followed her wispy form deep within the alley.
It felt alluring, yet knowingly wrong.
"Hey? Who are you!?"
She was compelled to ask.
Lucky Lady left one gun in her ankle just in case she had run into any trouble.
The woman's voice said, 'Come to me . . .'
She didn't know her words registered in her mind, not in the fabric of the air.
"Where did you go!?" She sharply demanded, "Why can't I see you anymore?"
Her face scrunched in anger.
"You're a demon . . . Aren't you?"
The alley elongated in her swirling head, while the time passed with imaginary tick-tock's. Silence; except the cartons and cans peacefully rattling along the smudgy ground.
Although the noise was peaceful, it was constant: Not good for thinking.
Dark. Alone. Even the sound of her own footsteps made her skin crawl and her body shakes. A she-devil?
Certainly. Many devils brought such a sense to her sometimes. It wasn't like she was afraid of them.
Looking around, its very difficult to see out in the inky, lonely night, but she could make out a figure. Not human, she was sure.
Swiftly, she drew her beretta from her leg and aimed directly at the front.
Might as well pack something with a punch.
"You're going to die here, bitch." She said with a smirk. And the alley was lit for a second, accompanied by loud gun shot that felt like thunder in the void.
Lady sensed wind pass by her face, blindingly fast, and a bright light engulfed the area for a moment.
Looking at her now, the woman's hair was long and her face . . . ?
She looks like the woman in the picture . . .
Dante's picture.
No.
Could it be . . . That's ridiculous! People don't just come back from the-
Right. Arkham.
Dante's mom? How is it she was in the form of a demon? The woman in front of her clearly used lightning energy as a source of power.
Lady ducked down and dodged to the side of a dumpster avoiding her attack at the last minute. The huntress gritted her teeth. So she rose up again, ready to fire.
But the place was empty . . . No sign of the woman anywhere.
"Where did she go?" Lady asked aloud and started jogging.
Eyes sharpened for any sudden movement. It was so quiet, the water droplets on the ground making the only noise as she scurried along.
Once she reached the end and the she saw the light of the street, she just gave up and stopped.
". . . Should I tell Dante about this?"
It started to rain, and soon, her hood was soaked. She felt more isolated than ever, the crushing feeling of the downpour steadily making her more and more lonely.
Everywhere she looked was a grey-black, often with dark blue hues and highlights.
The only other color came from traffic lights, but they weren't any help when all she saw was darkness.
All the things her mother said just weighed on her brain.
She told her once, "You think things can't get worse now, but just wait. It'll get better, it always gets better. A better day will come."
She just kept waiting. And waiting. She waited for the one; that day that never comes.
She prayed and prayed, but the 'better day' never arrived.
That is, until she met Dante.
After the tower, she actually felt on solid ground for a while. She knew things were concrete, or so it seemed at the time.
Now it all reversed on her, leaving her cold and numb, and she hoped someone knew.
There had to be at least someone who knew deep down what she hid. Someone had to know and share a kind of understanding.
For now, that person didn't exist to her, not anymore.
Back To The Apartment
She rushed back in, and began to strip down. The rain left her drenched, and so she took a hot shower.
The warmth rid her of any chill, but she still felt alone.
Walking out, rubbing herself dry with a large, white towel, she walked to the wall and turned up the heat.
She went back to the bathroom and sat down on a little, comfy stool that had a flat cushion sewn in.
It was dark blue, with depictions of grey clouds.
She sat and let the towel fall to her waist.
The scars on her body had lessened, certainly, but there were a few new scrapes and bruises along her ribs and her forehead.
At least these were covered by clothes and hair, but she took the opportunity to treat them again.
She removed the wet gauze and replaced it with dry bandages and medical tape from the first aid kit. She thought she might have fractured a rib.
Her figure had taken a bit of a trouncing. She knew if Dante wanted to kill her, then he would have killed her.
She knew his love of humanity was what probably kept her alive, but he'd become so ruthless.
Beneath her fringe was a small cloth that hid an abrasion. She soothed it with a warm washcloth after removing the bandage.
In the mirror, she just looked at her reflection.
It'd been a while since she actually looked at herself.
Would anyone really appreciate this? What she looked like was a hard-drinking, scarred up warrior. There was a newfound feminine quality to her though.
She was curvier than before, and her looks had softened considerably.
It wasn't like she planned to adopt a different diet, then suddenly her features would shift into something more attractive.
Maybe it was just a sign of maturity. It seemed slightly juvenile to take notice of, but her bosom was much larger, by all accounts.
She used to be flat like a surfboard, now she really did have a 'pin-up' look about her.
Odd how things change so subtly over . . . Gosh, was it ten years already? It'd been a while since she scaled Temen-Ni-Gru.
Her killer legs had dried now, her job was so rigorous that she didn't really need to hit the gym anymore. She slipped into a green sweater and black leggings as she waited for her normal wear to finish.
When the dryer finished, she removed the warm clothes and folded them back into a drawer.
She surmised she was done for the night, and opened a book she'd been reading. It was Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. She'd gotten roughly more than halfway, but didn't recognize it at all.
You'd think a famous film would be completely faithful to the masterpiece-original.
Nope. The book wasn't anything like that old film.
It didn't even feel like the same story.
Nevertheless, that experience earlier, that surreal interaction with a photograph left her completely confused.
Maybe it was worth giving Dante a call, just to let him know . . .
She got up from the old leather couch and grabbed the landline. She dialed the shop's number, knowing he'd probably be there and still awake. She eventually heard the tone, and he answered.
"Hello . . ." It trailed off.
"Oh good, I caught you. Listen, I bumped into something I think you ought to-" Then his voice interrupted.
"I'm unfortunately unavailable to take your call . . . That is all. Don't keep calling back . . . *muttered* How do I shut this thing off-" Aaaand click.
At first, she thought it was him just joking.
Then the dial tone kicked in.
"-At the tone, please record your message." It said to her.
"Are you fisting me?" She said aloud, then covered her mouth.
The tone went off a second later. Oh thank god.
"Uhm, hey, I-uh . . . I bumped into something on the street . . . You know what, I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Meet me at the cafe on 3rd." She said, deciding not to bother.
She hung up and dialed Morrison.
No answer there either. Damn.
Her face cracked once again to sadness. Lady heaved a sigh and went over to make the bed.
Devil May Cry HQ
Vergil twiddled his thumbs at the desk.
Sleeping sucked now.
The night was getting depressing, slowly sucking the emotion out of him. Patty felt like a distant memory to him, and the productive day was gone.
There weren't any messages from anyone important, least of all Morrison, and so he was, for the first time in years, stuck with completely free time.
He looked around for things to do, and nothing popped up. Nothing at all even stood out to him.
The furniture came and he'd set it all up the way he wanted, the nightmares had gone as well, and now he was just sitting alone at his shop.
Dante's shop.
No matter how many times he tried to escape the feeling, it really seemed like he was still an alien, an outsider in a world he wanted to know.
But it all looked foreign to him.
Sure, he understood basic human culture, but beyond the simplicities, a few years under demonic servitude made him a little weird.
For the night, it felt like he was trapped in this prison; a little introvert looking for a purpose in a harsh world he was all too well equipped to handle.
He looked for anything, anything at all.
Then he remembered it.
Her number. Jennifer.
He scrounged about and looked for the paper, ultimately finding it in the trash. It was crumpled with some food stains. How careless of himself.
Staring at it, he saw the correct name, Jessica.
'What is wrong with my head? I didn't use to be this bad with names.' He said to himself, almost punching his own face out of frustration.
He was desperate for contact now, mostly out of being tired of the concept of loneliness itself.
How many nights could he go without some form of affection? Be it of a friendly nature or something more carnal.
He didn't care really.
Wow, imagine that; he actually shared a personality trait with Dante. Funny how that didn't bother him anywhere near as much as it would've a few years ago.
He looked inside himself, wondering if he really wanted to see this person again.
Well, as long as she didn't bring the child, he'd be fine.
So he gave her a ring.
As it dialed, he realized he hadn't thought of anything to say. Too late now.
"Hello?" She answered.
" . . ." He was afraid to say anything.
"Hello?" She was more insistent, on the verge of hanging up.
Come on, say something for once.
"D-Uh, Uhm, H-Hi. Hi Jessica." He said, as uncomfortable as he felt inside.
"Who is this?" She questioned lightly.
"Uhm, I'm-Uh, It's . . . Dante." He stumbled out.
She giggled a bit.
"Ahehehe, I thought I recognized the stammering! How are ya big guy? What's up?" She said, taking charge since she knew he was shy.
There was something so magnetic to her about him. Anyone else of course wouldn't get this far, Vergil had a unique draw to him.
"I-Uh, I was wondering if you . . . If you maybe wanted to grab something to drink, or whatever tonight." He replied, gaining a small bit of steam.
Cellphones weren't exactly his forte, and he felt so unskilled using them, especially the social aspect of it.
"What, like, right now?" She asked, a bit surprised.
"Oh, if you don't . . . You know, if you don't want to-" She cut him off.
"No! No, I think I can make that work. One of my girlfriends from Texas is visiting, I think she'd be down to watch Ryan while I'm gone." She said.
There was a quick scramble on the other end as Vergil tried not to encourage her.
"You should spend time with your friend if she's got a limited stay here." He said, all regal and controlled, yet awkward and stilted.
"Oh she's in town for a week, she just got in two days ago." The woman shot his rebuttal down.
Just perfect.
"Alright, she said yes, why don't you give me your address and i'll ride over in an hour? I'll pick you up!" She was so enthusiastic.
Immediately, he felt a wrench in his gut.
Maybe this was a mistake? He hadn't realized the implications of calling her over.
This place was decrepit and ghoulish, possessing the macabre skulls and trophies of Dante from his career.
Despite Vergil's attempts to make it inviting, it still had this real spooky, gothic vibe at times.
He knew an ordinary woman probably wouldn't cope well in an environment like this.
And yet, his lips muttered the information she wanted.
She had a bit of an effect on him too, reciprocating a kind of magnetic reluctance.
So, the woman hung up and began riding over.
Stress shot into his spine, the nervousness of having to be around this woman again returning to his gut.
What did he just get himself into?
So . . . sixty-five horrid, painful minutes went by as he waited in silence. The vehicle eventually pulled up to his driveway, but he didn't go to the door.
He stayed frozen right in that chair.
So she got out of the truck and walked to the door. She began to knock, and rung the buzzer.
Still, he did not come to the door.
So she tried the sensible thing and just twisted the handle.
It came right open.
Damn, of all the times to forget that!
"Hi." He replied, cold and emotionless.
"Oh, was this a bad time?" She said as she walked in, modestly dressed similar to how he saw earlier.
He grumbled back at her.
"No, no."
She chuckled a bit and decided to ask him.
"Hmhm, then to what do I owe the pleasure sir?" She gave him a very, VERY familiar sarcastic grin.
If it's not his brother, then it's some tramp on the street.
"I, uh- I'm . . ." He couldn't put what he wanted into words.
So she just walked toward him and took control.
"Okay, let's try this? How about 'I was lonely here, do you want to spend some time together?'" She said, then finally noticed the grim figures on the walls.
She let out a little gasp.
"Wha-whoa! Those are some dark lookin' mementoes!" She exclaimed, trying to retain her cool as best she could.
"Oh, uh- Well, those are my brother's." It had become a really stupidly simple excuse to fall back on.
Always blame his brother.
"Oh. Is he here or-?" She left off there to let him finish.
He squirmed a bit.
"He-uhm. He died." He replied. It left her a bit deflated.
"Oh! Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I didn't know."
He looked at the ground. He couldn't deny it.
. . . It still hurts like hell every time he remembers
"Yeah, uh, It was- It was kind of recent; very much unexpected. I'm here tending to his affairs." It was technically true.
She understood his reserved nature much more now.
So she placed her hands on his shoulders to try to sooth him.
"Hey, do you wanna go out? Like- lets get out of here and get some fresh air." She suggested the idea so innocently.
He stood confused and torn. In this state, he was more open to suggestion than usual.
"No . . . we-. . . lets just sit here for awhile." He disagreed pessimistically.
"Okay. Alright, we can do that too."
She tried to beam a look of positivitey out at him, and he guessed he'd put on a fake face of relief.
"So, Jane."
"Jessica." She said with a laugh.
Where was his head at anyway? He kept forgetting these names more and more. These commonplace things should have been so easy.
So beneath him.
And yet, they were throwing him for a loop. He let it go for now, but maybe it was just the result of being so isolated and corrupted under Mundus.
He hated to remember anyways.
Vergil left the desk and paced to the window with her, for a better sitting place.
He looked out the window, so distant and emotionless. She looked at him and understood, so she didn't push him very far.
"You got any drinks here?" She inquired.
He nodded, pointing to a dark wood cabinet next to the bookshelf.
She grabbed them some whiskey.
This one was fun to drink in silence, at least.
Every once in a while, she felt the urge to talk, so she tried to get him to speak up.
They'd exchange some pleasantries for a while, then the quiet would set back in.
Eventually, she just outright asked him.
"So, do you like me?" The phrase had cynicism behind it.
He looked at her for the first time.
It caught him so off guard.
" . . ." He seemed silent, and it made her feel stupid, so she just looked down at her glass, visibly disappointed.
"Yes." He finally replied.
She looked back at him surprised, a slight smile leaking out.
"Don't sound so excited," She joked, "So, what if instead of going for drinks . . . we just get closer?"
He groaned inside, because he knew just what she meant by that.
But he looked at her, and he saw something he didn't mind.
"I'm open to it." He said lowly. She smiled to herself.
His dark charisma was something he actually wished he could turn off sometimes.
Of course, Dante seemed to be able to flip it off like a switch. He didn't know why, he always felt that kind of power should be open and expressed completely.
So Vergil tended to embrace the more paranormal aspects of his soul.
"So?" She asked him for confirmation.
He looked at her, and saw a kind of legitimate mutual attraction.
Maybe it wouldn't be bad if they just got intimate.
The more he thought about it, the more he actually considered it a little bit. Really? Would he really just sleep with this person he had only just met?
He did this once before with that brief companion, when he was young.
That didn't turn out well, as he'd already reminded himself.
But she had an allure . . .
That was it, the words that would turn off any possible desire he could have. Not to mention, it's just not like him to have one-night stands. At least for now.
"Aren't you married?"
"Single mother, babe. Remember?" She gave him a face that said 'hello!?'
"Well, no. I don't feel dressed right for it." He responded with that dry wit, and it was well received.
She laughed aloud.
"Oh please, if it's just too much torture for you!" She joked back and giggled.
He felt a warm sensation in his chest. What was that?
It was like when Patty had done something he admired or something he reluctantly admitted was cute, only more intense.
Her laugh was cute, and he couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction.
"Oh! Oh! Back off, people! I got him to smile!" She said, and continued that subdued, warm laugh. "Relax, I was just playing with you."
She kept chuckling.
After a while, it felt like 'listening' to honey.
His smirk grew into a bit of a smile, and she enjoyed the moment even more.
.
.
.
A voluptuous blonde strolled up in, looking for the man she'd been hoping to see. Who was that witchy woman who'd harassed her before?
Well, either way, she was looking for Dante.
The place was far different than she remembered, largely on account of the new, much nicer furniture and cleaner feeling.
Some of Dante's collection still remained on the wall. Some of it had burned up during their initial meeting.
She regretted destroying some of his personal history, now that she was free of Mundus's influence.
But it was still definably different than before. Something was missing, she could almost put her finger on it . . .
'The posters!' She realized.
She knew that the man's preference for women was rather overt earlier on, and she didn't recall him removing them before they left.
Sure, they'd put out the fire after convincing him she wasn't his enemy, but he showed no signs of dropping that part.
The walls were completely devoid of the same contraband Dante had openly displayed with pride.
. . . Unusual.
There was also this odd sense. It felt like Dante, but-. . . No. No, she knew whose this was.
Similar to Dante, but very different as well . . . She could tell just by the smells and the type of air. The dust was different . . . The decor . . .
Vergil . . .
Yes, that was who she sensed lived here now. He'd-. . . He'd survived . . . ?
Trish didn't know what happened, but she knew she had to find out. Where was the slayer she knew?
The new resident just left.
The blonde woman saw the back door open and another female walk out of it.
"Oh hello? Are you a client or something?"
Trish raised an eyebrow, surprised a bit.
"Where is he?"
"Dante? Talking on the phone, he'll be here after a minute." Jessica said and turned away from Trish.
Within seconds a voice broke the silence.
"What are you doing here?" That galvanizing, unmistakable voice.
Vergil came in and threw the phone upon the desk.
"What have you done?" Trish confronted him.
Vergil clenched his right fist.
He glanced at Jessica.
"Leave. Now."
"What?" She placed her hands on her hips and wanted to argue. "But what abou-?"
"Now." He repeated.
His eyes? they were too cold. That's when she made up her mind to walk away. Was it really her business to know what's going on here?
She still liked him, maybe she'd give him a call after. Either way, she respected the tension.
Once the door closed, the two were left alone.
"I thought I would never have to see a tramp like you ever again." His eyes turned bright crimson. "How dare you come to this place."
His voice deepened, turning into the unmitigated growl of a demon.
"I've dreamed about what our 'special' reunion was going to be like. Lo and behold, you come to me!" He gave a psychotic glare, rage billowing from his maw.
But Trish wasn't worrying, in fact, her face had the look as if she was still in control. The situation wasn't looking that good for either party.
She knew of Vergil's ruthlessness, but she didn't care. She wanted to know what happened.
"Where is he!? What did you do to him?" She demanded, not scared of him.
His face looked horribly pained suddenly.
"I found him, cold and alone. I didn't even get the chance to try and save him. He died right there in my hands." The strange, sad fury that coursed through every syllable put things on edge.
She stopped in her thoughts.
"Where were you, huh? Where were you when he was fighting that battle? You coward. You thief of life!" He angrily hissed.
Her face became saddened. Dante was . . . Dead?
"He . . . ? He died?" Her voice wavered.
He nodded.
She fell to her leather-bound knees, "No!"
Tears fell to the ground. She sat there in her misery, her brown jacket masking her light corset.
Minutes went by as he stood there watching her pain roll out.
Eventually, she calmed somewhat, sniffling and red-faced.
"Get up." He muttered.
"What?"
"I said: 'Get. Up.'" He was furious.
How dare she shed tears for a family that was not hers. She had no right to wear that face. He would take it back from her.
"But . . . Why? . . . Why do you hate me so much?"
"Because you're a fake!" He bellowed in her face, wind rippling through her hair, "You're just a corrupted shell! I buried his body and you hid away!"
She was taken aback by his unbound mental state.
"I am no shell!" She yelled through tears, standing back up, albeit shaky, "I have more compassion for that man in my pinky finger than you have in any-"
Her words were cut off with a rough punch to the stomach that sent her flying out the entrance.
He stepped forward and slammed the door shut behind him.
"You. Me. Right now; the old church across town." He spat.
She staggered to her feet and glared at him.
"Why there?" She asked.
"Because I'm going to wipe you from existence in the house of god." His eyes were brutal, his teeth gritted.
A pure black aura surged from his form.
And so they went.
The Cathedral of Saint Aamoth, the Loved
The streets were littered with trash. Plastic bags floated by on a whim, and nearby, prostitutes sold themselves out for a new shade of cheap lipstick and some cab fair.
Some other crimes, like robberies and sexual assault were going in small banks, back-alleys, and red-light apartments.
All that bled away in Vergil's head, the focus of his anger becoming purely directed towards this new individual.
She raced along the rooftops to the big, boarded off doors.
Vergil calmly arrived in tow.
They stared at one another, linked by hate and paranoia.
"So, here we are . . ." Trish spoke sarcastically, "A bit grim of you, don't you think?"
Working under Mundus together made her wise to his tactics.
Vergil didn't speak, instead turning his head to the door.
A gust of wind picked up, and the doors blew open. The wooden planks and various guards on the barrier disintegrated.
And so the doors opened to an empty, dusty church.
Trish walked in first, blue electricity running along her black wrist accessories.
He followed into the darkened place, the vaulted ceilings high above looming over their heads like guillotine blades.
He snapped his fingers, and a number of old candles flickered back to light.
Courtesy of Ifrit.
She generated an electric arc between her hands, holding it stable as she walked off to the right.
Vergil walked to the left, past the pews to the open space opposite Trish.
He summoned Yamato and held it up with his right hand, outstretched horizontal, the point towards her throat.
She clenched her fists closed, dispelling the fritz. Holding her fists up, she readied her blue bolts.
"Your power is different." Vergil commented, "What's holding you together now that the lord is gone?"
She smirked at him.
"Just a little something Dante gave me as a keepsake, to keep me safe before he went off to-. . ." She trailed off at remembering.
The slayer had kept Sparda in his possession, instead offering her the Alastor as way of giving her a familiar element.
With it, her powers were far greater, even after the master's attachment had faded away.
"Hmph, you think you actually know what strength is?" His face turned dark, "I'll let you know exactly how he felt before he died, from firsthand experience."
She threw the first attack, launching a bolt from her still position.
It hit him, but he resisted the attack, grunting as he staggered back.
He pushed beyond the pain, stepping back forward as she flashed forward with her boot.
Her right knee crashed into his head, knocking him off-kilter as she spun into a roundhouse midair.
His head flicked to the right, then rocked back to the left as her heel came around into his cheekbone. He fell forward on one knee.
By the time she'd landed, he'd twisted around lunged for stab.
She shifted back in quick thinking, propelling herself with static electricity. He continued forward, roaring at her as he wielded Yamato like a cutlass, fencing her back in a red blur.
Trish, on the defensive, manifested electric blades that she guarded each strike with, with one for each hands.
The darkened devil drew out more speed, attacking at an ever-increasing rate.
Finally, he cut through her defense, and began to nick at her skin.
First, he cut her cheeks, twice on both sides, then he slashed her arms and her stomach. They were tiny little gashes, but they stung nonetheless.
Twisting the handle in his hand backwards, he issued a sonic strike to her palms in a clash. The guards protected her hands and resisted the blade's steel.
Sparks flew out on both of them, neither really caring of the pain.
She released a pulse, a shockwave pressing him backwards, then released a punch coated in current.
His body stammered as it hit his ribs, and flew back into the benches.
She flew after him, attempting to land a followup, but he countered with a kick.
He released the hit into her diaphragm.
It was like a steel rod being thrust through her, as she coughed up blood and flew back above the empty prayers and landed on a dock above the roman organ.
On one knee, she grabbed her chest as she dodged a fireball, electrically shifting from ledge to ledge to ledge searching for solace higher up.
Vergil released his blast and began to yell with each blast, becoming and more intense until he finally screamed.
"Aaah!" He howled, and launched a burst of energy where she was going.
The inferno powered into her side, pancaking her against a wall.
"Ah!" She cried as her head smashed into the partition and she began plummeting to the ground.
He charged forward, intent on slamming her with his gauntlet covered fist. Closer and closer, they were almost together, and . . .
Vergil's weapon hit the wall. Sitting atop his concrete arm was the elusive minx, legs crossed and smugly smirking for a brief moment, before forcing both her heels into his face.
The man stumbled back as she landed down and delivered a vicious right hook.
His jaw dislocated, and he stepped back further.
Molding the electricity into a living scythe, she spun it around and sliced down. He guarded with both forearms, holding back the crackling weapon.
A new flame flickered, and he released his arms out and away into an explosion.
The burst burned her shoulders, and she was hurled into the wall.
He stared at her, deathly serious.
"Parlor tricks. In the end, you're just as weak as that insufferable oaf of a brother. To befriend you . . . What a pathetic joke." His voice smoldered in her head, engraving their mutual dislike.
She stared back at him with a matched rage.
"Do you really love him? Could you really love someone, only to insult them in death? How could you delude yourself?" Her words cut through his chest.
He stopped in his tracks.
The comment made him appear to lose some his self-control.
"I-Ergh! You-. . . What would you know about him? You're dirt make to look like my mother! You couldn't love something because you came from him!" He screamed.
She chuckled in his face.
"I may be a creation, but I didn't choose my face. I didn't choose to manipulate Dante either." She forced herself to stand, using the wall as support.
Blood dripped from her pretty teeth.
"Ungh!" She grunted as she grabbed her stomach, "Do you even think before you act, you childish prick?"
Her tone was nowhere near his mother's.
"You've no idea the emotional turmoil I put myself through to try and atone for my betrayal! I came to your brother's shop to seek forgiveness, not revenge!" She yelled at him.
He took one look in her eyes and just told her the truth.
"I don't care."
His response shocked her.
"You killed my brother. I couldn't forgive that, even if I wanted to." His voice got shaky and coarse.
Her back fell against the wall, and she slid down.
" . . ." She'd given up, "I did nothing to him. I . . . Loved him." She shed another tear.
His face was cold to the fact, looking not unlike a slab of iron.
"You . . . You're sick." He sneered, "You look like our mother. He couldn't love you back, halfwit."
She didn't even react.
"Maybe so. But does that change what I feel?" Her questioned completed dozed through him, stifling any response.
He was silent for a long time, looking at her.
This isn't possible, she couldn't love Dante. If that was true, then his entire belief of her, his whole reasoning was completely and utterly, dead wrong.
Could he handle that? Was he strong enough to handle that?
"You're lying." He said, frigid.
She looked back up at him.
"Aren't you empathic like your brother? Why don't you take a look?" She told him off, uninterested.
He searched and searched, perhaps hoping to reawaken this dormant aspect.
Sure enough, he could feel it. The perverse nature of her feelings, perverse to him anyway.
"No. No . . . No, this isn't possible!" He shouted, "You can't- You're just-!"
In that moment, she grew angry at him again.
That face she loved, twisted so far out of familiarity by a man she neither wanted to accept nor love.
So she blasted him in the face with her strongest bolt.
"Aaaaaaah!" He hollered out, clutching his pained countenance.
She stood and quickly dropped the jacket to the ground revealing her white, strapless top and a black choker.
Summoning it all up, she manifested Alastor in all it's draconic glory.
She jammed the blade forward in a stinger, impaling his midsection and taking him off his feet for the very first time.
His body contorted in a flurry of electric waves, and his back hit the floor.
"I have something to show you." She said, brazen.
He returned to Yamato, his most comfortable weapon.
As they clashed and struck desperate strikes against one another, a tempest of slashes and painful lacerations swirled around them, destroying the pews and cracking the colorful murals.
They brought their weapons together in grind and spoke to one another once more.
"You mock him with that getup!" She yelled.
"I . . . Will . . . Kill you!" He retorted, disturbed.
They separated in a red mist, both taking damage.
She knew wasn't as strong as him, her powers were straining to keep up at this point, despite the slight physical reprieve.
Each moment when she went for a move, he'd counter with a barrage of rough attacks outpacing her by a million miles.
She summoned the electric scythe again and moved with both, managing to hold her own even longer as their combat raged.
Still, with Yamato alone, he overwhelmed her, using judgement cuts and rising stars, summoning all sorts of attacks that lit up the cathedral's innards far brighter than any candle through the place.
He thundered and battered her around, wearing her down as a sudden burst of electricity caught her eye, and she realized it was not hers.
Vergil had triggered.
Wearing a scaled, black kimono on top of his mutated body, it was his old, untrained form; the only thing he could think of under the mental duress.
The colors were different, but it was the same.
"Cut off!" He said as he sliced through a lock of her hair, then unleashed the wrath of an old Samurai with a salvo of horizontal movements. Juggling her in the air, he prepared a final, zantetsuken.
Unexpectedly, she flew high above, out of his indigo reach.
Healing her wounds in an instant, she began to blast bolts of electricity in an instant, her own, less monstrous devil trigger a result of her false physiology.
A fierce, blue field of energy emanated from her.
He continually dodged, despite several good hits on him. Zooming through the hall, he made acrobatic artwork of her aiming.
Bouncing around the walls, his evades became more complex and harder to follow, until, eventually, he just disappeared altogether.
She stopped for a second, then successfully guarded against an helm-breaking strike.
Grounding her, they parted in a purple tear, and prepared for another clash.
Trish, armed with Alastor and the lightning scythe: Vergil and his trusty Yamato.
"Begone." Vergil told her.
He released a charge, azure strike that came downwards and diagonal.
She slashed upwards in countermand with both weapons.
He shattered the scythe into ions, and wrenched Alastor from her hands with a single stroke.
Trish rocketed into the mural, the glass cracking open as it stopped her momentum.
Showered in shards, she crashed into the floor, broken.
He roared like an uncaged animal, preparing to kill the remnants of his captor. This would feel soooo goood . . .
She crawled to her knees, covered in cuts and bruises, and her hair and arm almost drenched in blood.
Her nose was bleeding profusely as well, it wasn't good.
This was it. The last thing she could do.
Looking at her right hand, time seemed to slow. All her remaining strength crackled in and out of it.
Well, here goes the last stand.
She charged forward, intent on making it count, knowing he would win. He was always going to win.
The two met a final time.
Digging her fingers into the top of his head, she released it. His mind blasted off, taking him through to a different time, someplace else.
Mallet Island
Dante was struggling to stand, his father's power making him strong enough to be on Mundus level, but not strong enough to take all his attacks at once. The brute . . .
He held the blade, Sparda, his father's namesake aloft and irradiated strength from millennia ago.
But it wasn't enough.
"Damn it!" He shouted in frustration, Mundus towering above him, his form half-destroyed and corrupted from it's angelic stone.
"Dante!" He heard a voice.
Twisting his head to the left, he saw her . . . The one he'd spared. Trish, come to save the day this time.
"Use my power!" She said as she channeled all her golden vitality into his body. How did she get here?
It doesn't matter, he guessed.
Imbued with her strength as well as his father's, the fight raged on. She'd aided the warrior as best he could.
It was up to him now, she could only try to find an escape for them both, and he knew this.
"Th-thank you, find a way out . . . I might not get so lucky . . ." She heard him say.
'That was last time I saw him.'
Present
His mind crashed down on itself, and his form cracked away slowly till he was all human again.
"N-. . . No . . . You fool." He croaked, beads of saltwater flowing down his molten cheeks, "H-How could you!? How could you throw yourself away like that!?"
He screamed.
"Aheh, now you see." She said, spitting up blood onto the ground, "I tried to save him . . . I guess it wasn't enough, huh?"
Yamato stuck out her backside, quivering in regret.
She fell forward, and he did his best to remove the blade painlessly. She couldn't feel anything at this point.
Vergil was overcome with a new feeling.
What was it? It felt like sadness, it also felt like he'd made a huge mistake.
. . . Remorse?
Remorse. He felt remorse.
It hit him like freight train, collapsing his shoulders.
She began to fade, having taken on too much.
No, not like this.
He wouldn't let it end like this.
He called forth his power, the demonic energies of his corroded past.
Come on, this isn't how it should end. Just this time, do something for someone else . . .
His fist tightened and from the edges of his glove came a blue energy. It pained him so much to bring it forth, a sliver of his own life; almost like he'd been shot in the throat again.
Incantations such as that of Lady's salvation wouldn't work on purely demonic creatures.
Without hesitation, he plunged the summoned orb into her stomach wound, and the light enveloped them both.
It shined like a beacon, guiding boats through the northern seas.
Her heartbeat remained slow, and worry gripped his chest. Come on, come on!
And then, it began to speed back up.
Soon, her skin returned to being smooth, and his hopes rose again. The pain on her face disappeared, and she awoke just as the light disappeared.
In that moment, he couldn't think of anything else to do. He was so overcome with emotions he hadn't experienced before, if ever . . .
He was happy, regretful and even angry still.
He didn't know if it was through impulse or repression, but suddenly, without any rhyme or reason, they became interlocked in a kiss.
It was surprisingly passionate . . . fun even. And for a moment, he seemed to forget who she was.
Then, he remembered.
They stopped.
He stood away from her, horrified.
"What . . . What have I done?" He said to himself, feeling disgusted.
She didn't know what to do or to say.
"I-I . . ." She stuttered, trying to find the words that would calm him.
"Quiet!" He boomed.
She acquiesced.
His mind felt broken. What was wrong with him!? How could he be so perverse? He wasn't Dante, he wasn't driven by lust, but by honor and respect!
Vergil couldn't register the brevity of mental states he had gone through in the span of only a few minutes.
He clutched his skull, and crouched to the floor.
Mangled and stilted groans escaped him, anguished by the darkness in his heart.
Then, he grew silent.
"Vergil?" She said.
"Get out."
"Wh-?" She couldn't even finish.
He turned to her and she saw the most frightening look she'd ever experience. Her spine froze in place as she stared upon his twisted wrath.
"GET OUT!" He shrieked.
Raving like a lunatic, he went mad from the revelation, screaming at the top of his lungs.
She ran from his sight, escaping the building as quikcly as she could.
She heard him rage inside, very structure itself shaking like an earthquake had struck the city.
"Rrrrrraaaaaaaaaaahhhh ergh agh!" There was no place to hide, there was no place to run.
Nowhere to go that he couldn't find inside that place.
It was like his mother died all over again.
"Leave! NEVER come back!" It wasn't even human anymore, whatever was talking.
She accepted his demands, fleeing the area, in fact, making very quick plans to just leave town. Nothing could bring him back down now, he just needed to release until he had nothing left.
His form distorted out of control, returning to his most powerful one, the four-winged destroyer . . . The Majin.
Vergil unleashed all his aggression at once, and in a single surge, leveled this old hallowed place.
Much Later On . . .
From the ashes arose an old man, one who felt brazen and ragged. One who had maxed out a lifetime's worth of pain.
The imbalance was temporary, and he felt returned to a sense of some kind of normal.
Now it was time to return.
He left this place, calmly searching for his brother's abode.
His abode.
Vergil found the office at last, still sensing the power pulse within him like fire. He needed to lie down; he needed to just sleep for a few centuries.
His felt weighed like a cinderblock, and his skeleton seemed bendy.
The muscles and tendons were all sore.
And he felt that pain in his chest again. Trish had taken Alastor as she'd left, and he hoped he wouldn't ever see her again.
On his desk was something new. It hadn't been there before.
A white envelope.
Inside it was a coin and a letter.
It was a note from Trish.
'I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that, Vergil. I wanted to make things right, but I just hurt you more.
I came by to give this to Dante, but . . . I want you to have it. He would too. It's an old coin he used to carry around.
He said he'd lost it on the island, so I found it for him. Now it goes to you. I hope it helps you grieve as much it did for me.'
Vergil didn't even have the strength to look at the coin. He slipped it in a pocket and collapsed over on the floor, slamming face first.
Two days went by, and Vergil didn't move.
However, the very moment he awoke, something was wrong.
There were two, plainly obvious sets of sandy footprints right in front of him.
"What is this?" He grumbled. slowly placing his hands in front of him. Lifting up, he felt rejuvenated, but tired still.
He staggered about, trying to find his way. The surroundings were still the same . . . The letter was still on the desk, and all his possessions and furniture still remained.
Following the footprints, the Cambion trekked all the way to the backyard door.
He saw where they led, and his eyes widened.
"No!?" He whispered and opened the door, the cold wind welcomed him, like an omen.
He rounded out and he couldn't help but to gasp.
Dante's grave was open.
Rebellion is gone.
His breath hitched in his throat as he knelt down to check the grave.
Nothing but dirt welcomed his vision.
"No . . . No!" He repeated again. After coming through so much, after all that he just went through.
And now? This was happening.
To be continued. . .
Thank you for reading, I hope you loved this long chapter :)
Special thanks to my beta reader Angel wolf for his help.
Beta Reader Note:
Hey guys, just a little update from me on the song influence, this chapter came from a lot of different places regarding music.
Most of the influence from the Trish and Vergil fight comes largely as a result of Metallica's Welcome Home (Sanitarium).
Lady's portions as well as the actual title of the chapter comes from an old, real somber acoustic folk song of the same name, actually, by Crosby, Stills, & Nash.
It's a really moving, underrated song from the early 80's and captured the right kind of vibe I wanted to use.
So, i tried to inject some of that stuff in, with the Metallica song also fitting in very thematically for this one as well.
That's all from me, hope you guys get some influence from that too!
My thoughts and responses:
Turbo Sexaphonic: I did not thank you for your last review. Like a film adaptation or a literal game!
Oh my heart. Working on that Part with Angel wolf was so much fun, I'm proud of it too :D
Thank you Guest :)
Thank you passing by guest for sharing your thoughts here, and I agree with you.
Dante's timeline guest: It was nothing, just a bit of misunderstanding and it's over immediately. Welcome :)
Metallica Guy: To be honest I was not very sure with the Idea before, but it fits perfectly and I love it now. :D Go ahead and ask, i'll be sure to answer soon.
In case you did not see before, I didn't mean to offend you, or anyone. My apologies.
Wow thank you so much StableGenius TR that was such an in depth review it made me happy so much. Yes I wanted to show Vergil in a new light.
He could like a woman it's just not the flirty type like Dante, not to mention he is a bit of loner. He handles it in a strange way.
I'm so glad the issues with Lady is working fine this far. I was afraid I will fall into the same mistakes, the other authors fall in, and just come off wrong.
But this far it's handled with respect and developed Lady perfectly. I hope I gave Vergil more development here in this chapter as well.
Your thoughts about Lord of the rings is correct :) I was influenced by that. Nice to meet another fellow fan. I just thought it could be perfect for this. And it is :D