Chapter 16 ~ Carry On

Vergil gently let go of Lady, and laid her off to the side in bed, he pushed the sheets off and took his clothes. The man sat on the edge of the bed for a long time. He rested his head in his hands. . .
Haah, so many principles betrayed by simple carnal want. He was so lost, confused. Where should he go from here? What does he do? He didn't know, most certainly not. The day was early, or late?
He didn't remember, all the time he had seemed to be burning itself up, like gas in a brick oven. His malice was leaving, a side-effect he didn't even account for.

She watched him get dressed, and wanted nothing more than to say something, but she couldn't muster the courage.

What was she going to say to begin with?

Vergil gazed back at her and the two stayed like that for a moment, his blue eyes characteristically cold. They stared, before Lady laid down and her eyes focused on the ceiling.
The covers laid over her legs, leaving her top half exposed as she thought about what they'd done. . . What she had done. Her world was cruel to her, making her cold and numb.

Vergil looked down and sighed.

He left the room as it was.

In her confused sleepless emotions, she was drunk on silence. For a time, it seeped into her pores, dowsing her mind in it's thick toxicity. The rationality of her thoughts left long ago.
She thought about why she'd been drawn to find him, what she'd planned to say. When she needed to say it most, it left her, like almost everything else. She turned on her side, looking at where he laid.
Now it was her turn to think about it, to think what she'd betrayed inside herself. This was the same man who'd thrown their city into chaos, who couldn't care anything for her or his brother.

And then there was him, her happy old friend. He'd always been like a lazy yellow labrador, a good confidant she never treated right.

By the time she woke up to what kind of man he was, it was too late to thank him.

"I'm sorry Dante." She buried her face in the pillow, and spent the rest of her time weeping silent.

. . .

The moment Vergil stepped out he saw the front door wide open, and the old man Marcos standing inside. He closed it behind him as he hobbled toward the slayer.
Standing before him, the tall man greeted his old friend rather reluctantly. So many years had passed, at least one or two decades since he was last here. He only arrived to one conclusion.

"Good to see you are alive." The old man smiled.

"You're immortal, aren't you?" He said plainly.

The old man laughed, it's true. Many people are surprised by how long he has lived.

Vergil looked at himself in the mirror, it didn't feel wrong. . . Like before. The sight both stung his heart and give him a sense of comfort, made him feel like he was there with him, in a sense.

"They say: It isn't about where they died, nor even where they lived." Marcos came forward.

His vision caught sight of someone standing behind Vergil, or more like something. The figure didn't resemble a human visage. This creature was mimicking ever move Vergil does.

A shadow that shouldn't be.

"It's much simpler than that. They simply stay near what they loved. That's what keeps people here, nothing else." He remarked to himself.

Vergil stayed silent, glaring at his reflection.
Slowly, he turned his head to look at the man, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you mean by that?"

Marcos smiled and chose to leave the house, returning to his place across the way, then coming to help others fix the damage.
Vergil stood still watching, the door closed. He stared through the small pieces of glass in the woodcut grain. He looked down to his feet.
The ground wasn't dusty, feeling rugged and clean. He scoffed to himself finally.

"Still speaking in riddles like always." His cool baritone was particularly low now.

Vergil suddenly felt to return to the bedroom, but he couldn't. How can he face her after their. . . ? Intimacy? It just didn't sit well with him. It wasn't like he regretted it-

But. . . For the first time ever, he was put in such a 'situation,' and he wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling right now.

In the midst of it all, he heard a knock on the door, and he didn't really feel like answering anyone. He just wanted to be left alone for now.

The knock continued but much louder. Still he ignored it, wondering what in hell he should do.

The knocks turned to bangs.

He rolled his eyes and paced to the front door,

"What in Sparda's name is wrong with- Patty!?" He cut himself off, surprised. Right there before him stood the short blonde girl, wearing a blue-yellow-ish dress and a hat.

He couldn't help it but to smile and at the sight of her bright face.

"Dante!" She shouted and hugged him immediately. He was caught off guard, and stumbled back a bit. He wasn't expecting her at all.

Why is she doing this? Did she miss him?
Yes he supposed so, it was good to see her as well.

"Easy there," He chuckled fatherly, "I'm still injured ya know."

Patty let go of him.

"S-Sorry." She laughed.

Vergil's face softened, remembering the little adventure he had with her, "What are you doing here?"

A bit of red filled in her rosy cheeks, as, for some reason, she avoided his eyes.

"You. . . Said I can come visit you anytime right?" She gathered her courage and looked up at him as she spoke.

"Indeed, but-. . . I mean- Well. . . Just-. . . What are you doing here?" He ended up repeating himself.

He was confused, by visit, he meant the office. Why did she come here? How in hell did she even know he was here?

"I'm not hopeless, I followed orders and I stayed safe until everything was okay." She answered cheerfully.

There was a feeling in his chest. . . He missed that; that childish energy, her girlish beam. It made him feel better, filled his dark soul with light.

"Really?" He knelt down to her level.

"Y-yeah."

Vergil played with her hair a bit, making her flinch slightly. She didn't expect it is all. Warmly, he pulled her in to hug. He smelled weird, like perfume and cologne mixed together, and something else. . .
She was shocked, he was never this warm to her unless she'd been through something, but it reaffirmed for her their connection. She knew he didn't want her to think of him that way, but she did.

Dad.

When he let her go, he almost chuckled aloud. Her face was bright right, the most severe blush he'd ever seen.

"Are you into gambling?" She said, bubbly and ditzy almost. She pulled something out from her coat pocket, "Because I have cards."

"Hm. What's at stake?" Vergil replied, a knowing look on his face.

Patty bit the edge of a smile, when she got the funny idea in her head, a vain attempt to keep her creeping grin at bay. The intention behind her perking lips wasn't something that could easily be ensured.
It was rather better to be insured, hoping for the best of what would happen next.

"Ice-cream cones. I prefer the ones I had that day."

"What? You little rascal," Vergil nearly yelled, "That's why you wanted to visit me suddenly?"

Patty laughed, shaking her head, "Come on, knock it off."

The door opened and Lady walked out, carefully watching them. She stopped immediately when she saw Patty. Specifically, Patty in such close proximity to Dant- Er, Vergil.
The girl was happy that she had joined up, but noticed her doleful expression immediately. What was wrong? They beat the bad guy, as evident by the. . . Complete destruction. . .

Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes cast down in a depressed gaze.

"A-are you okay Lady?" Patty posed the question.

Lady was silent at first.

She took a small breath.

"Yeah, I'm just. . ." She didn't complete that sentence.

There was too much pain in her, that voice was straining for help. Whether she was hurt from battle or not, the young girl couldn't say.
Patty looked back at Vergil and noticed his own sad, brooding face. It doesn't take a genius to figure something happened between these two.

"Should I. . . Give you guys some space?"

"No, I'm leaving." Lady replied, "I might return home today, you wanna come with me?"

Patty crossed her arms, conflicted.
She liked both of them, there wasn't a doubt.

"Uh. . . Uh, no, I think I want to stay with him for awhile."

"As you wish." Lady spoke kindly, then immediately left out down the street, walking away. She needed some time for herself to grieve, to be able to let it go.

Once she got a few feet away, she felt a hand hold hers.

No need to look back, she knew he was the one stopping her.

"Can you stay?" He whispered, hurt, "Just-. . . Just a little longer?"

She closed her eyes, not wanting to deal with this right now. They were wrong, this whole scenario was wrong.
Things were twisted from how it was supposed to be. Vergil was evil, therefore he should've died. Dante was good, he should have been here.
He should still be here. But. . . She didn't mind the other guy so much anymore. What was happening?

"I'm just-. . . Confused right now." She sighed, "I need time alone. I need to be away. . . From you."

She could feel his maimed soul, his hurting chest. His wavelength, or whatever you wanna call it. She knew she was making things hard for him.
Honestly, it was just. . . How do you move on from a thing like that? How do you learn to trust people again? He'd lied so much, lied about everything.
She should've known, all the differences. It wasn't that the island changed him, he was just a bad actor.

And now, this. This stupid, impulsive day.

Then she heard words that surprised her.

"I can't." He spoke softly, "I can't leave you alone. What if Arkham came back again? He's still out there."

His answer was out of nowhere. It's true, her father really might appear again, wherever he crawled from, and spawn chaos, like that night in front of the office.
She would've died if Vergil wasn't there to put a stop to him. The way he seemed so natural by then, his moves were perfect. Too perfect, playing her like a game of cards.
The day was progressing, sunset close by now. The slayer felt it leave him the way an old relative does, passing by slowly till you hardly remember it anymore.
He knew he'd regret this one day, maybe not now, or tomorrow; but certainly, someday he'd feel a mistake haunt him. There wasn't dry eye across the city, everyone was in mourning.

And so was he, he was in mourning for his humanity.

Silence dominated.

To Patty, it seemed like they stood there forever. What were they talking about?

Her striking gaze left him hopeless. At least he saw beauty in the bleakness.
There wasn't an answer for her, not one he could provide. So, they just were as they were.

"You know. . ." She broke the silence, "Dante said something to me once."

She let go of his hand and faced him.

"He said: 'Someone capable of shedding tears for the lost has a good heart.' He only said it once, but I still remember it. . . I don't know why."

Vergil could sense the conflict inside her, choking on her every word.
Of course, after everything she'd been through, all that had happened to her so long ago. . . She was a witness to unspeakable crimes. Is it any wonder how she turned out this way?

"I can't understand how someone like you can be this way." She told him, "I don't know what to think anymore, I remember you as that cold, heartless bastard who didn't care about the aftermath.
You didn't care what would happen to all those innocent people, so long as you got what was yours. You're so selfish, and yet-. . ."

Her lips quivered, ashamed to even think it to herself.

"What? And yet I'm what?" He said, lightly moving her chin with his hand, raising her face up to see his.

These two scarred figures stood perfectly apart, but so close to one another.
She disliked this, even though another part of her fought that rationale.

"It doesn't matter." She responded flatly, "I'm leaving."

"I'm going back too," He frowned, "You don't have to like me, despite what we've done. Arkham is my problem, and I will stop him. I won't allow him to lay a finger on you or anyone else again."

He knew he said something wrong by the look on her face.

"Excuse me, is he your dad? He's my problem. He's my family. I understand that you and your brother had issues with your father as well, would you like it if I hijacked that?"

Vergil's mouth closed, and his muscles tightened. Rage coursed through his chest.
But it was twisted, no longer something pointed at her. This anger was swirling inside himself, blackening.

His nostrils flared, and he turned away. The slayer spurned conversations further, trailing back to the young girl impatient.

Lady sought to argue more, but it was fruitless, she knew. So, she took a deep sigh to herself, then called for Morgan.

In the frozen air, the night resumed. Weather forced a change of destination, and so the voyage wed the longer hours

The sea smelled fresh, unpolluted. It was a nice change from the corrupted cities, or the industrialized island. For the first time in a long while, the air was clean to breathe.

The trio had returned to Morgan's boat, and the man welcomed them with a good cheer, "Fantastic! Great to see you lot made it back in one piece, that was crazy stuff back there. Ready to go home?"

"You bet. I need some peace and quiet." Patty cheered.

Oh what an ironic statement, considering she had minimal involvement with the worst of the proceedings. Children.
Lady went inside the cabin again, and took a seat behind the captain, her eyes focused on the floor. Vergil never liked sailing, it took too long to reach destination.
Besides, why take so much longer, when he had other means with which to travel? Flight was an amenity he treasured, one of his favorite dark powers.

He laid down on the small deck and watched the sky.

There was cool blanket of moisture, and a light drizzle from some of the luscious clouds. Beyond them, the stars glistened brightly, painting the black canvas with valiant, billion-years-long crusades.
A cool zephyr rustled his hair, patted his forehead like a wet towel would on a summer day. This was the kind of thing he enjoyed; the quiet, and the serenity. He found it easy to carry on slaying this way.
He recalled lying on his back pretending to sleep on his first trip ever to Fortuna, watching every little thing people did. His senses had screamed high alert, for he didn't feel like he can trust anyone at all.
Not then, perhaps not even now. Still, he could trust the Bazooka Merc, her special predilection to virtuous revenge a comforting ally in these darker times.

Though he never noticed the salty air at that earlier time, it was that seaside aroma that took him back to the past.

He wished he really could go back there - Just so he could have a chance to see mom again.

He still recalled what she said those times when he needed a good discipline, her arms crossed, and her boot tapping the ground nonstop.

The look in her eyes was enough to scare him into speechlessness.
Honestly, the respect he had for women was a deep-rooted instinct.

'Look at me young man,' She would speak sharply, "What do we say?"

He would lower his head and speak, "I'm sorry mom."

"And?"

"I'm grounded, for a week. . ." He'd grown familiar to the patterns of youth rather quickly, though it was in earnest.

How much he missed that voice, no one would know, but there was nothing to do about it. She had gone away a long time ago.
He felt ashamed, realizing that he'd betrayed his standards as a young man by the way he allowed himself to treat women during his young days.
The dark tower brought back bad memories for him, as a symbolic refrain from his morals. Arrogance had consumed him then.

It took a long time in hell to think on his sins, what he'd done to others.
Now, he looked to the moment when he would live that penance straight.

"What are you doing out there?" He heard Patty call out to him.

He opened his eyes and didn't really bother to move, fearful his relaxation would fade away.

"I like to lay down and feel the boat move, while the sea rocks it every once in a while." He answered casually.

"Hm. . ." Patty joined, laying down next to him and staring up at the sky, "I don't know, it makes me feel a bit dizzy."

"Tell me," He said a bit loudly, "How do you feel about . . . That woman who put you in danger?"

The girl shrugged, her face leaving a sigh behind.

"One thing I know for sure is it's never too late to make amends. I believe the real heroes are the ones who won't give up, even if there's no light at the end of the tunnel.
They'd still keep trying to find it, make it right no matter what." She beamed positive vibes, "And she's trying, so she's slowly becoming a hero."

Vergil lifted his head slightly to look at her in the side. Out of the mouths of babes: Who would have thought a child could rationalize something like that?

Does she even realize what she's said? Perhaps not, children are gullible.
Still, though, it's refreshing to hear such an honest truth, and children are so very, very pure.

It's never too late to make it right, no matter what. But can someone like him really be redeemed? It was an honest question he'd never thought to ask himself.

He had been selfish in that regard.

Patty felt his warm hand touch her shoulder. She looked to her side to see her one-time protector.

"Thank you for coming." He said.

It was a bit of a rare thing for him to give thanks, and this wasn't lost on her. He'd been colder when last they'd encountered one another.
What had he been through to make himself so much happier? The difference was honestly amazing, far removing him from his earlier gloom.

"Ah-. . ." She trembled slightly, weirded out by the sudden change, "You're welcome."

. . .

. . .

. . .

The bronze sunlight was swallowed up by the horizon. The bright sunny day engulfed itself in the moonlight, where the ocean's flooding made for a slightly rockier adventure.
Thankfully the trip was over eventually, though it took longer to find another port after they discovered a storm had swallowed their point of origin.

A mere two hours later and they were on dry land once more.

Lady walked ahead of the two in silence. They were almost 'home.' Her's was farther than theirs, but at Patty's insistence, she would stay at the shop for a small time.
It was understandable, the little girl wanted to get to know her better after she realized she was an important person to 'Dante.' She could lay down and take a nap for a time.

However, strangely enough the street seemed to be busy, more than usual at this hour.

It was called the festival of lights. Along the dark wintry lane shone hundreds of lamps; illuminating all with their flickering candles.
The lights cast every color by the tinted panes, and Patty couldn't help but be reminded of candy. She could smell great food too, things like caramel-apples, popcorn, pulled-pork sandwiches.
As a gathering, it was an amazing experience for those new to the city, or those who took joy in social interactions. Vergil was neither anymore, but Patty couldn't help herself.

It was as if the lane was iced by the baker on the high-street, and even better than the cake she had last birthday.

Everywhere there were folks in their winter garb, some wore thick jackets, mitts and scarves.
To add to the gaiety, most children carried a lamp of their own making, their gentle puffs of steaming breath made tangible by the glow, only to disappear into the inkiness.
At the stroke of eight on the square's old clock would come the first wave of songs, songs of thanks to echo into the homes of even the curmudgeons.

They'd constructed a little stage, one made of temporary metals and rigging.

From here came all sorts of music, traditional folk, rock, standard dance numbers from the 60s, even tango-infused classical music.
The celebration was a temple of diverse palates, appealing to a wide range through both melody and drink and food.

"It's beautiful isn't it? I forget tonight is the festival." Lady told the young one, breaking the silence.

She was enamored, finding it a great dichotomy to the usual happenings.
Vergil hadn't any patience for it, he started to walk away.

"Investigate, if you must." Vergil said, "My office is right around the corner."

"What? No, you should stay! It'll be fun, come on." She tugged at his hand.

He rolled his eyes, "Fine, I'll stand here for awhile."

"Well, at least you're here." She sighed into a smiling chuckle, and ran through the crowd.

The two were left alone once again, and none of them wanted to talk much. It's too tender a subject.

Still. . .

"Lady?" He whispered, "Remember what you told me before? . . . Dwelling in the past only hinders you from moving forward."

She tensed up, but still wouldn't look him in the eye. She remembered their past conversation, after she'd shot him in the mouth.

"What happened to you? You talked about being someone's 'walking slave?'"

Vergil heaved a long shudder, he never liked remembering. Especially the horrible toture Mundus put him through.

A nightmare he has been trying desperately to forget.
The girl was a safe distance away, so he made the decision.

"His name is Mundus. He imprisoned me that night, after the tower. . . You can't even imagine what that vindictive being is capable of." He paused for a moment, should he tell her?

She looked at him, finally. Her eyes were knowing, almost like they could tell what he would say next.
A tear formed in the corner of his eye. Damn, again? It was a freshly re-opened wound, he supposed.

"He is the one who murdered Dante. Somehow, I don't know. . . Before he died, Dante set me free. He allowed me to escape before he took his last breath."

Her gaze returned to the festival. She scoffed, her fingers fidgeting in place.

"And you chose to take over his office," She replied, "How can you justify that? How can you justify taking his identity? He told me you always had a reason for everything. So Why?"

His looked remained unchanged.

"I-. . . I didn't. I don't have a reason why." He told her.

"That's not good enough. I don't believe you." She said, and he could sense her anger rising.

The man turned to her, and laid all bare.

"I didn't have a plan. I had nowhere else to go, and I know no one else that still lives. I became Dante because I was scared." He nearly choked, why was he telling her this?

No need to stop now, might as well stick with it.

"He was always right. I pretended when we were young that I somehow knew more, that I was the stronger of the two. But that wasn't ever the truth.
Dante was never scared, and if he was, he knew how to use it to better himself. I don't- I can't. It's not in my nature to accept fear, I crumble into rage."

That tear fell to the ground after so long.

She turned back to look at him, surprised.
Never did she think he would reveal this about himself, ever.

He slumped back, assuming a poor posture. Ironically, he resembled Dante even more now.
The man stepped away from her a small foot, ambling around as he felt his chest ache.

"Y-You know. . . No one ever loved Vergil. Everyone loved Dante." He couldn't stop himself, the admission hung in the air like humidity in the summer.

He was so blind to it at first, feeling the decision impulsive and stupid. He always felt himself to be so above it all, like the north star.
Shining so far away from everyone, isolating himself in cruelty. The thought of power comforted him, made him drunk with pride, hardened his heart to the truth.
Beneath all his preaching, all his might, there still sat a lonely man shackled by fear of failure. Only a raven served as occasional company.

It never chirped, only spoke to his ego.

Out of nowhere, he felt her wrap her arms around him.
A familiar warm spot dotted his clothes. The hug was a simple enough gesture - kindness, perhaps the fragile beginnings of something else.

In a way it was cathartic for the two of them, coming to terms.

The arms that held him were so strong, stronger than any other person he'd met. The feel of her body so close to his soothed him more than he had expected.
Within seconds he pulled away, waiting for her to say something. He was sure he must look like some fool, but the idea was just nagging him more and more.
He needed to know. He knew she did also.

"I don't know either." She answered, fully knowing his mentality, "I need to be alone, so I can figure this out. You have to realize; I need a chance to mourn my friend."

Oh. Right, and he was sure the way he looked didn't aid things either. He'd grown comfortable to be this way.
Dante's appearance was like a second skin now, he wasn't sure he'd ever shed it anymore, despite whatever mixed feelings he may have had earlier.
Vergil touched her shoulder, he understood where she came from. It had to be let go, it wasn't the right time.

He had no choice but to be around the corner watching from afar, in case 'daddy' showed up again.

"I understand." He replied, and he slowly corrected his stature.

Lady lowered her head slightly and nodded.

With that, she walked away. Under wicked skies, he knew not whether she was like the rest, if she was unforgiven too.
If she could understand him, then he could know her, through the black of day or dark of night.
She once laid beside him, watched his black heart scar darker still, but her eyes are closed now.

The lights were beautiful, he couldn't deny this any longer. Deep down, he wondered if he lost her for good. She'd never again be seen talking to him.

"I deserved it," He chuckled slightly as he looked to the stars, the moon peering out from the clouds suddenly.

He smiled to himself, at least he had that one memory. She'd be there when he was gone, it was what he felt, what he'd known.
It was time to turn a page, and the door on his soul closed again. For now, he had the festival to enjoy. He scanned the crowd for Patty.

"Come on, Dante." He saw her wave at him from the distance, riding a dazzling carousel.

He started walking toward her, slowly. Spending some time here might not be too bad after all.

Just when Patty was about to whine about how slow and gloomy he looked, a clown burst out into the street.

He was as vivid as summer blooms - red hair more vibrant that a firecracker adorned his head, starkly contrasting to the paper-white make-up of his face.
His mouth was playful, normal almost, and raised into a smile. His steps had a bounce to them, and the crowd seemed to know him as they all cheered on his arrival.
Behind him trailed a mass of balloons, jostling in the radiant rays, each as beautiful as the next.

All thoughts of her complaint had been erased from their minds and she stopped to watch the figure approach, making a beeline right for center stage on the road.

The clown began his act, and all that purveyed him garnered their dollar's worth.
He was a pretty darned good clown, making even the most cynical of adults bust up.

A few little tricks and gags later, and another, blue haired clown popped up. They had great chemistry, making the audience captive over the act as they engaged in slapstick magic.

It was honestly quite entertaining, and though he didn't show it, Vergil felt himself enjoying the spectacle underneath.

The clown bounced around on one foot as the other hit his red shoe with a mock hammer, and he switched feet as soon as he happened to bounce back around to his partner.

Even the light couldn't outshine her smile, all the children laughing. It was a strangely picturesque thing, the slayer was unaccustomed to such a happy setting.
What great atmosphere here, his troubles merely melting away. Surrounded by warm light and a happy crowd, even Vergil couldn't resist a chuckle or a smile eventually.
These clowns were far more talented than others he'd seen, making street-theater a somewhat respectable art-form for him.

Someone shoved a beer into his hands, and he was carried along by the waves of spectators into the crowd.

He managed to stay close by, watching with a light smirk as he neared Patty. He could see she was having so much fun.

Ah, how innocent.

Hours went by, and finally, the exhausted young one was carried through the office doors, the dark slayer dragging himself in

Returning home, he felt like a tortoise retracting into his shell. The sense of nervousness evaporated.
To anyone else, this is a place just like all others similar to it on this street, but to him it's a sanctuary. It's his cocoon, his simple rest.

He opened the front door and trudged inside. He couldn't help but to smile inside at the sight of the office.

He placed the little one to bed upstairs, making sure her neck rested comfortably on the pillows, as he left on top of the covers.
Crashing on the couch downstairs, he took a breath, stretching his legs. Patty would return here after sleep, so this was his best chance for a nap.
He felt this blackness come over him, like a blanket, but not a one of warmth. It was an overlay of frost, a chilled touch making him shiver.

He trailed off into a dreamless sleep, too drained to care.
It was hard to discern how much time went by, but it could've been only a couple of minutes.

When he heard the phone ring, he got up, pushing himself onward to the desk. He collapsed, but spun around as he did, gracefully falling on the seat of the desk chair.

It tilted back off it's balance, sending him crashing to the floor. Counteracting this, he slammed his airborne legs down, banging against the surprisingly durable furniture.
The chair ceased it's fall, bolting forward into place as the force of his crossed legs sent the phone's receiver flying into the air. He watched it sail, the long cord letting it travel far.
He held out his hand to the side, and he caught the thing in his fist, thankfully. Bemused, he brought the thing to his ear after a moment of hesitation.

That was weird, he'd never done that before; didn't even know that the phone would throw itself that far.

Well, whatever, following that, he answered.

"Uh-. . . Devil May Cry."

Silence as he listened.

"I'm sorry what?"

The other end came back with more information.

"Y-your boyfriend died playing poker. Uhuh. . ." The skeptic in him rose to the surface.

"Okay, well - Since you insist, come to my office tomorrow and explain this more. It sounds. . . Interesting. . ."

Thank you for reading! Season 2/second half is here people, and it's gonna be a monster!

I'm really happy about this chapter and how it turned out. What do you guys think?

Beta Note: Alright, music used was 'Slow Down' by Mac Ayres, 'Seasick, Yet Still Docked' by Morrissey, 'Just A Song Before I Go' by CSN, and 'Here Comes The Sun' by The Beatles.

Also some more influence from Metallica's 'Unforgiven II' again, god damn I love that song.

Different choices than normal, I know. But it's a new beginning of sorts, even though it's directly a continuation of what's come before.
Think of it as an epilogue inside a prologue. It was pretty fun to help write, this one was a unique exploration of Vergil's psyche after all that he's been through.
Over the past chapter's, he's been kind of psychotic in this understandable way, now after the events of I Disappear he's learning to move on.
It feels pretty legitimate, I'm happy about the way it turned out, with a less brooding tone towards the end.

That's all from me, have fun.