Chapter 18 ~ Fortune Messiah

It was time to stare. Stare at each other, stare at the enemy. The game was designed for only one winner.

Golden arm Joe had a lousy poker face but the fact that he kept it the same, good or bad, said he was either better than he let on or just an absolute idiot. Vergil decided he was the latter.
The game was a funny thing, it drove people further than any other activity on the planet, and it was more intoxicating than the most addictive drug. The rule of honor need not apply here.
So, the Devil relaxed his shoulders, put his neck back and decided to have fun with this.

Looking down at his own hand, there was a pair of sevens, one Heart, the other, Club. He also had an eight of Diamonds, a ten of Hearts and the Ace of Spades.

He put forward a bet of four hundred, "I'll wager you four."

Amanda took the exact same amount from her own stacks and tossed it in the pot, saying, "I'll match."

Suddenly everybody knew the real game had only just started.

Kringle smiled an snickered at his hand before taking twice the amount, explaining, "I'll see you two hundred, and raise ya two as well. How d'ya like that?"

The Irish lilt came out in the old man's voice, he was a strange one.
Frowning at the rather-loopy guest, everyone else hesitated for just a moment before matching.

There was an air of confidence among the others, to an unfortunate fault. This silver-haired prick didn't look like much.

Then it got to Vergil.

"Full boat." He said, casting his winning hand on the table. Immediately, he sent a wave of electricity through the air, the others didn't expect that.

Joe's face fell faster than a corpse in cement boots. In that instant, his skin greyed out, like all his blood evaporated.
His mouth hung there, the lips slightly parted and his eyes grew as wide as they could stretch. All the smoke he'd puffed in came rushing out in one massive stack, escaping through his nose.
He bent over as sharply as if he'd been punched in the stomach and from his mouth exploded a mist of blood that spattered his lap and knees, painting the table and the side of Vergil's shoulder.
Finally, his cigarette dropped to the ground. The embers weren't enough to start a fire but they certainly shined brightly in that drab room.

The dust at Joe's feet rustled, and the man shivered. The others watched, numb as the fit tore him apart.

By slow, torturous degrees, the coughs eased, and then slowly, slowly. . . He passed. The man fell off his chair lifeless.

The brute who'd been ordered to oversee the game went to Golden Arm and checked for a pulse.

"Ah. . . Nothin'. He's gone."

"And this doesn't disturb you?" Kringle sarcastically responded.

Vergil stared blankly, "That's the game, you play or you die."

A rush of wind passed and the doors shut. The player's threw their cards on the table as they sprinted to try and bust them down. But, not Vergil.
The devil hung back, choosing to let his senses investigate for him. He could feel it, the same thing that was inside Patty earlier, it was here now.
Great. . .

"This is just perfect! The staff are playing jokes now, this is ridiculous. He had to have been poisoned!" Amanda shouted.

"Not so." Vergil silently said.

"Yeah? How do you know?" Kringle asked him, "This is a poker game, not final destination. I'd rather live than risk my consciousness for some arrogant ass like King."

The building abruptly shuddered. King didn't like that.

"I'd be respectful if I were you." Amanda glared, "He may've been poisoned, but i'd still avoid mentioning the host."

"So, does that mean King is actually among us?" Kringle's eyes widened, the old man was actually somewhat enthusiastic at the mystery, "Yes of course, it makes sense, a game of death with the King. . ."

He inspected Vergil, the slayer was certainly strange. To describe his facial expression would be like describing a smooth slab of marble.
The Cambion could've been in a coma for all the life his face bore. But this was just the way he was, perfect in masking his true face, to the point no one could ever read him.
He liked it that way, he despised people, humans in particular. No one cared about him when he tried, so why should he care about them? The mere idea was insipid.

"Oh? Are you going to start accusing me?" Vergil commented, condescending.

Kringle adjusted his glasses slightly, "This lad died after losing to you. I would say there's reasonable doubt."

His words fell flat on his void of a face, the countenance itself so bankrupt of love or fear so as to depict only harsh reason.

Vergil smirked and stayed silent for a time before giving a curt reply, "True."

. . .

No one really liked that response.

Maybe he was, or maybe he wasn't; both are possible. The room had this chord of tension throughout it, like an idiotic cult searching for the persecuted.

"Really, maybe this 'King' is actually an attractive woman." He glared at Amanda as if she were one of his previous lovers.

She didn't care for his words and the look was no longer welcome to her. Worse still, was Vergil's empty stare.
The crooked man seemed poised for a hostile takeover, beaming a sadistic smirk with a smoldering eye attached.

"I'm known as 'lucky' Amanda, not 'King' Amanda. There's no royalty here, so back off."

"Sure thing." Kringle replied.

The employee trapped with them looked at both the slayer and the group rather uncaringly. They realized he was the one, he had to be King, it was the only logical explanation.

"So. . ." Chris mused to the foreman, "Where do we go from here?"

"Play the game." He pointed ominously to the table, that confirmed the group's thoughts.

"Well, don't threaten me with a good time." Amanda replied as she strode back to the table.

She was reluctant to join the slayer. His eyes felt like scalpels under her skin.
Given his nature, this was all he could do, they shouldn't have branded this behavior 'strange.'
A small piece of her was wondering why he was so alien.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do we do about him?" Kringle asked, rather disgusted by the corpse in their midst.

Vergil and the siren stared at the body, then looked back at the curmudgeon.

"The doors are locked, what are we supposed to do?" The woman said, and then beckoned Kringle with her right hand to join them at the table, "It's sink or walk, pally"

The two scoffed as they all reluctantly took on the situation.

And the round started again, the game master dealt their cards. Pure tension spiked up their backs as he slowly built them a new hand, his eyes having turned on them.
Vergil's own eyes were so hostile suddenly, becoming rage-filled as they delivered a Judas kiss. The entire ordeal was idiotic, a locked room with a group of sinners.
Lord knows what crimes Joe had committed, now he was in an abyss somewhere, surely. A cable strung through them, linking their senses as a sinister feeling overcame the room.

The elderly man glared out from those beady little eyes. Afterwards, he chuckled.

That laugh was not what the remaining players needed. Amanda's back tightened up as the demon's right eyebrow twitched.

Merrily, the old man raised the stakes once more.

The host started looking rather hesitant all of a sudden, but nonetheless, his caustic scowl never ceased.

Amanda raised his wager one extra and called it, seven high.

Vergil, on the other hand, glowered positively menacing. He dealt more cards as the round ended in a draw.
Though the master had started them back off, he gave the deck to the slayer as a sign of duty, so the Cambion doled out cards to these poor fools.

"Humans," He spoke, "So reckless. You can't outfox the Devil."

The man picked up his hand, but it wasn't so magnificent. He looked at Kringle, whispering black things into his mind. There was a piece of Vergil in all, he saw two eights, a King, and two twos.
He tried not to react, but Vergil saw through the old man's farce easy. He threw down the eights, taking a grim chance that it may kill him. Time to kill the light; assassinate the living flame.
Ego's would strip the reign of significance, he was sure. He'd followed their movements from the dawn of time, their fall would be swift.

No, no need to worry.

"Two, please, Mr. Devil Man." Kringle called for more, so sure of himself, as if he'd already won.

He threw two to his hand from the deck, and once more, the slayer peered into the old man's eyes.
He had a zip, a five and a four. He'd hoped for more than this, but beggars can't be shooters.

Vergil creased hid lips in that devil smirk, "What's your bet, old man? Are you all teeth and no bite?"

"I can't bet. I'll fold, I'd rather save up my money for a better plan." The elder responded.

Vergil chuckled aloud, his laughter sounding as if it were from a coffin.

"Not good enough a hand, eh? Tough. . . But, I have an alternative solution. Instead, you wager your soul." The devil hissed, slowly stroking his chips.

Was he bluffing, lying? Kringle knew he couldn't give in, if he did, he knew it'd mean dying.
Those eyes held no fallacies, the slayer was a man devoid of all human affections. What had the other's gotten themselves into?
Certainly, they didn't expect to be playing with someone inhuman, and Vergil was making it clear.

Kringle stared him down, unnerved by the cold in his eyes, and yet. . .

"Heh. . . Hehehe, alright lad, alright. One soul," He'd chosen to laugh it off, demons weren't real, "And what will you bet?"

His silver-haired opponent muttered out a single, bone-chilling phrase, "I have no soul to take, but you may have my blood."

Amanda folded, it wasn't worth playing with this freak.

Vergil's eyes turned silver, glistening against the dim lighting of the hotel's conference room. A casino's poisoned air rarely fades away, but the smell of cigarettes and shame seemed to melt.
The man's face was pure evil, it's angular shapes doing funny things in the bad lighting. His handsome visage would sometimes seem to slip, as if something truly horrible lurked beneath.
It made the other's feel hopeless, they knew not where the man came from or why he was being this way. He had a cruel streak through him, and they very much feared if he let it loose.
He knew what they knew, felt what they thought, they couldn't describe how, but they knew he'd been there, been inside their heads.

Kringle cleared his throat, trying to avoid the steely gaze.

The elderly man put up a smile, this was his chance to come home, to win it big. . . Like Santa Clause and his haul for the children.
He placed his cards on the table, and with an Irish brogue, he spoke confidently.

"Three of a kind, I win lad."

Vergil sighed and spoke, "What good is knowledge to the old when they no longer seek to be wise?" He turned his hand over, "Quads."

Kringle felt it, a tightness in his throat.

His lungs began to decay, their functions becoming crumby, sagging in on themselves instead of contracting for the next breath.

"Yes, I should've sought more. . ." He spoke ragged, "Excuse me now, the fool shall take his leave."

He heaved out a groan as he turned in his chair, and he forced himself to his feet, clenching his robust fist closed as he endeavored on, strained horribly.
How could he hail the future when he had no concept of it's present? So he would leave now, departing for room 101. It's where he belonged.
The moment he stood up, his lungs expelled congealed blood, blasting out sticky pain as he collapsed forward, slamming his face on the table.

His whole body slumped over, and the table's contents shot into the air, landing all around in disarray. The old man laid in a pool of blood beneath him.

The two that remained stared intently at one another, and then they glared at the host.

He seemed not to be bothered, standing with his hands behind his back. Patty had covered her eyes, she'd been frightened by what was happening.
The little girl was troubled by the violence, weeping under her breath as she chose to hide herself from this scene. She prayed the mercenary would win.

"So. . ." The man turned his head when she spoke, "It's just you and me now."

Amanda had broken the silence.

She received a gift, a smile so sinister it drove through her forehead like a boa knife.

Patty peered out from her hands, her heart in her throat. Nothing of this game was normal at all, these player did not even fear death.
All things considered, they took it pretty well, two people were dead from extremely bizarre circumstances. But, something was driving them on.

'Dante' promised her that he would be fine. There was nothing to worry about.

'Come on, you can do it.' She thought to herself.

"Need something, Miss?" The host stood over her, eyes sticking meathooks through her chest.

She sunk inside herself, frightened of the man. At this point, she wished Anthony would come back, at least he was nice after getting his head handed to him.
For the most part, this guy was far more disturbing, bearing a huge musculature, like a wrestler. He was covered in tattoos, and his head was shaved.
He had a black polo and some slacks. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face looked like someone stuffed a boar's head through a plastic bag of human skin.

Reluctantly, she agreed to take some of his hospitality.

"U-uhm. . . Some water." Her throat had dried out from the worry.

There was a long time of silence, they went two rounds with an unexpected result. Neither was able to best the other, the hands were just as good as their opposite.
So, no one had actually won the money they'd bet. She saw the man's strong eyes, that hardened jaw. He was a handsome one. She couldn't help herself, part of her luck involved. . .
Other things. She untucked her foot from her heel. Touching his shin, he wasn't that far from her. She ran her toes up his inseam. He could feel her wiggling around down there.
What a pathetic trick. Appealing to him this way wouldn't work, however attractive she was, he was driven beyond these means, and his will was stronger than hers.

Besides, he had someone else on his mind.

There was continued silence, and the big man fetched the young girl water.

Vergil spoke to the woman at long last.

"I'm afraid I'm a little low on chips." He said, monotone. Those eyes turned crimson.

She stared at him, oh how she wished she'd had her way in another world. So sad that this was where he died.
The cards were turning in her favor, that much was clear. She knew he couldn't keep this luck up.

Amanda chuckled, the look of seduction obvious on her face.

"What do you want me to do about that?" She rolled her ankle into it, massaging her foot into his lap.

"That's fine." He replied, "This will be the last round either way."

His face remained like stone, but she kept it up, continuing to use her foot to her advantage.

"Well then, let's deal the cards." She said.

The man standing on the side took the deck, he dealt them cards one by one. Guess that was how they knew it was the last round, the boss got involved.
King would be the one to deal, of course. It made sense that he would be the one in control, his hands sure and experienced.

They went at it again, and when it came down. . .

"Huh." Amanda commented on the outcome, "Not what I thought would happen."

Both had put up a flush, their hands dead even. A tie was rare, if impossible in the realm of Poker. But if they tied, what did that mean?
They both heard a noise and Amanda turned to see King clasping his throat. He was agonized, backing away, as if something was clawing his throat from the inside.

A few seconds later, his eyes turned blood red, and then, his neck tore open.

Hot blood spilled onto his shirt, covering his squirming hands as they desperately tried to keep the gash closed.
The man stumbled, his voice gargling as he fell back onto an adjacent table, sending the pitcher of water flying to the floor.
Some time later, he finally stopped moving. The life that ran from him fought against that will, and it won out.

The wound looked gruesome, as did his warped face.

Still remained the air, it's screaming silence seeming to suck even the sound of her breathing into the nothingness of the room as the man lay, deceased.

. . .

So, then there were two.

. . .

There were more rounds, but they both kept going as much as they could, trying desperately to kill the other. This was the end for one or both.
She knew he was King, that had to be the explanation. Why he'd chosen to remain so obvious, she couldn't tell. A belt of rage overcame her crown.

Even the sounds outside the casino vanished as if the people were all tensed up, frozen from fear of what was to come. She could describe the sensation as creepy, but eerie was closer to it.

Under the dim lights, Vergil's hellish face looked to combine lust with hatred and brimstone. Such was the devil's nature, truly.

They traded rounds vile until finally. . .

"Hah, another flush, sorry bud." She said as her hand beat the slayer's.

His bloodshot eyes twitched uncontrollably under his white locks. His neck suddenly snapped out of place, growing contorted under the corruptive flow of the King.
In a moment, it would be over, Vergil would die, and Amanda would turn out the victor. His eyes fluttered and shut, his breathing ceased, and the curtain closed.

He lay there, so cold.

That was it, his name would be forgotten.

And yet. . .

She heard his heartbeat.

Lifeblood began flowing again.

Slowly, his eyes opened, calmly scanning her face. He righted his broken vertebrae, the bones steadily re-fusing together.
To her horror, the man continued to speak to her, sounding otherworldly. Pain shunted through her entire being, a suffusion of stress with mental trauma.
A dead man just woke up and put himself back together. He flexed his shoulders back and a sickening crunch nearly made her pass out.

"Hmm, that always loosens up tension, care to finish the game now?" He said, his voice blackened with hate.

His twisted grin was beyond her.

He shuffled another hand for them, dealing out cards to the both of them before silently staring at her. She could've screamed as she backed away from him.
Her knees buckled as she returned to the fold. Her fingers trembled as they reached for her cards. She couldn't explain why, she just had to keep playing, knowing full-well she should be far away.
She pumped out her chest and began making her fear vanish, filling her mind with delusions of grandeur. Yes, that was better. She could crush any man, they all cowered to her.
They'd have to watch their tongues or she'd have em' cut from their very heads. Yes, she was queen, no exceptions. Vergil would beg for her, beg for her body. . . It was something natural.

"Hmph, I guess I'll just have to beat you again!" She nervously spouted off that annoying bravado.

His smirk curled into a wicked grin, something she never wished to see.

She turned over the cards, and with a little luck. . .

"Ha! Straight flush." She was overjoyed, she would live, "Looks like I beat the King."

He let out a gruff laugh that sunk her soul into sand.

"Look again, woman."

He reveal to her his own selection, the grandest combination of all, five of a kind. Her soul began to wither, tearing itself apart as she watched his crimson eyes.
They were the last thing she'd see. His eyes, whose boundaries barely contained his malice, furrowed through to her final moments of life. That was it, the ending of her existence.
She felt a warm, sticky fluid trickle down her legs. Looking down, she saw it, of course. Her blood was flowing freely, a new wound opened from her stomach.

Horrified by the sight, she felt her lungs 'pop,' and soon, copper fluid escaped her lips, dribbling down to the floor.

She slumped dead right there and then, her head hanging limply in the chair.

Vergil stood up. He needed to move around, get up, get anywhere. He readjusted his neck, cracking upward as he stretched his muscles.

Turning his head, he set his sights on that adorable face. It looked to him with beaming eyes, so hopeful.
Patty was ecstatic, he'd won after all. He gave her a good scare when he'd dropped dead earlier, but she could see now.

He was beyond death, it's nagging, insistent clutch something he regularly stamped out with the fiery hatred of the sun. He hated to lose more than anything.

When those eyes reached her, she knew there was something dreadfully wrong here, almost immediately.
They were empty, glossed over by a film, like scar tissue. He merely ceased to be himself, the smile giving it away easily.
Not again. . . Not another false victory, she'd had it with imposter's after Ulmarag's trick.

He spoke with a brazen, menacing voice; the cold rage present booming without waver.

"The next game is with you." He said, veins emerging across his pale face.

She wanted to scream. This was not how it was supposed to happen. He should've just said no to the job, like she would've. Hindsight is always 20/20.
This was a power even beyond Dante's comprehension. There wasn't even a comparison, if this took him over, then it was an evil far from humanity's level.

"Dante!? Are you okay?" She trembled.

He abruptly lunged, jumping for her throat. The girl barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side with surprising agility.
The man put his fist through the several-inches-thick wall, leaving a hole through the insolation. It was a thick boundary, you couldn't see the damage on the outside.

He stood still as he settled his eyes on her, only a few feet away.

"I'm grand, let's play. You remember the rules, don't you?" His voice deepened like hers had at the shop, "You were so kind to teach me, I still feel the wound."

There was so much anger in his voice, she took a step back, removing the knife he'd given her earlier.
It was in case anything bad happened, this most definitely counted. She held it with two hands, like a small sword.
Her grip was tenuous at best, shaking from fear and confusion.

Tightening her hands around it, she desperately pleaded, "Dante, please stop. You're scaring me!"

He took a step toward her, and for just one second, she saw his face change, though it was so brief it would seem unnoticed.
Still, she saw it, captured it. . . For one moment, a look of sanity was there, returned to him from whatever void he stores it.

That was all she needed to see.

At that moment, she remembered what he'd said earlier, that if things got bad, there would be a way to return. . .

Her expression changed to determination. She took a breath and leveled her weapon, steadying her grasp.

Vergil stalked her like a vulture, pulling Yamato and circling the blade in his hand casually before resting it's point directly at her face, "Time to end the game."

"No-. . . S-sorry Dante!" She said, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

She gave a shout and jumped back as she threw the knife straight.

He'd lunged after her, but expected a stab rather than a throw. His blade missed her by an inch, slicing off but a few hairs from her dangling lock.
The dagger pierced his chest, he heard it as it entered him. The sound of steel on flesh was unmistakable. He sank to his knees within seconds.
It was like time itself stopped, ceasing it's flow as he processed what just happened. He started convulsing and trembling, like a rabid animal. Then, his head hit the floor.

Patty closed her eyes. . . Burying herself inside her own shell, she just waited, hoping this was all finally over. She was alone for what seemed like an eternity.

The sound of a door unlocking echoed through the quiet room. The doors opened gently and stiletto footsteps joined Patty.

The woman with the ebony hair appeared, Dante's client.

"Congratulation, you are tonight's winner." She addressed Patty, puffing seductively on a cigarette.

The little girl raised her head, grief stricken.

"What's going on? What're you doing here?" The child questioned the madam.

She laughed, those eyes burning a hole right through Patty's chest, "Did you really think a son of Sparda would get an open-shut case?"

"Wait. . . You are king?" Patty said, wide-eyed and confused.

"It doesn't matter, anyone who bears the chronometer would act like King, it's merely how I bestow my magic." She replied.

The woman gazed down at Vergil's body, her mind flashing erotic images of a future not meant to be.

"I wish he'd won for me, but it's not a problem anymore. You will be as dead as he is, as they all are." She addressed the room of corpses, openly proud of her grim handiwork.

Patty backtracked. The woman's eyes were bright red, smoldering like embers. She was preparing the end-game now.
Raising her right hand, she readied the girl for death. Now it was time to pass on, to watch as this demonic goddess feasted on her own flesh.

"You'll make a fine meal for me!" Her voice turned deep, sinister.

Patty gasped and closed her eyes tightly. . . Hoping for the best. It was all she could do at this point now, hope had gotten her through so much, even though she knew this was the last time.
This didn't matter to her, the simple act of hoping was all she needed to survive. Her mind had grown feeble, and she wished at least for her final moments to be optimistic.

The attack did not come.

She heard the succubus shriek.

Opening her eyes, the little girl smiled, overjoyed.

Vergil looked like a rag doll trying to stand and fix itself. He'd driven his katana through the woman's sternum, the tip emerging out the other side, towards Patty.

"Dante!" She cheered.

"Y-you! You were dead, I made it so!" She shrieked.

He laughed, mocking her 'power.'

"Ahehehe, you honestly think that measly strength is enough to put me down? You should've done your homework." He responded, his voice hoarse.

"How can you-!?"

"-Sorry to break it to you. . ." His voice was raspy, like something had erupted from his throat. He cracked his neck and peered his head around at the woman's tortured mug, "You're not going anywhere."

That was the moment Patty took her cue to bolt out of the room screaming.

The succubus took after the child, sliding off Yamato's edge as she leapt for the girl, "You little-!"

She raged after her escaping 'meal' but never reached the door. Vergil seized her hair and drove the blade back through her even deeper.
Edging around, he slammed the door closed with a well-placed boot. The slayer twisted the blade for sadistic measure, intent to kill her. She let out a screech that was music to his ears.
She enjoyed some measure of the pain, seeking a kind of libido from him. He refused to give it.

"Gah! So, you were only pretending to be possessed by my magic." The demon commented, "Heh, I should've seen that coming."

Vergil chuckled and took out the watch from under his shirt. The 'chronometer' glowed gold for but a moment before fading for good, the knife stuck through it.

"Nice shot, kid." He remarked on her accuracy.

"But how. . .?"

"Let's just say, I used a bit of my own magic." He eyed her form as it began changing.

Her clothes shredded away to reveal assets any model would be envious of, her nudity only covered by black strands of demonic material that connected all across her body.
Her hair turned silver, and her exquisite flesh became even paler than before, to the point of being considered ashen. Spikes grew from her elbows, as did ruinous claws from her hands.
On her neck emerged a tattoo of three dots, an insignia Vergil recognized as belonging to Mundus.

She felt his own nature become riled by her tempting metamorphosis.

"Of course, you are a formidable one, Dante." She told him, looking back at him. His stone face surprised her.

He ignored her attempts at seductions.

"Kid's got a good arm."

"Not as good as mine!" She screamed, shoving her barbed-elbow back at his face.

Vergil's jaw ruptured with pain as the serrated joint impaled his mandible. The woman slammed him back with a blast of dark energy.
He resisted the flow of momentum and returned to his state of inertia just a few feet away, landing back on his boots. He jolted forward, katana in hand.
In response, the minx lunged to the collapsed table, grabbing the old man's corpse as she rolled on by.

Launching the cadaver in the air, she let out a sick giggle.

He halted his attack. It was not in his nature to disrespect the dead.

Vergil caught Kringle's body, and seconds later, his head caught the one-handed-swing of the table the elder had collapsed on.

The demon had taken it on for the purpose of swatting flies, and she'd just smashed it across the face of their lord.

The slayer's head hit the wall, resting at the edge between the floor and wood-moulding that ran the perimeter of the room's floor.

He smashed his fists out to the side, generating enough force to send him back to his feet.

Standing with inhuman grace, he unleashed a salvo of blue blades, their glowing particles hurtling through the air as the succubus used the table as a shield.
The defense was torn apart by the force. A solitary splinter embedded itself into her shoulder. He appeared on the other side of the remains of her defense.
With a gauntleted fist, he smashed her shield apart, creating wood knives that dug into every surface they encountered.

She seemed to glide backwards across the ground, and with a flick of the wrist, she'd hurled the body of the game master at his face.

A target easily evaded as he ducked forward, rushing to her with his trusty sword in hand.
She answered his call with a hook kick, shunting his progress completely. The woman followed with a direct thrust of her foot forward.
Smashing into his mouth, the move staggered him back some, but mostly served to make him lament such pretty feet would soon be deceased.

In another time, they could have been lovers, she was his ideal demon.

This moment of reflection left him open, however, and the fiend was fast. She darted to him, leaving him exposed for a shoulder charge that sent him skidding across the ground.
With another shriek, she released a dark lash of spectral energy that bounced him back up. His back collided with the wall, creating a crater. His gaze fell to the floor.

His body simply sat there inside the divot the impact created, calm. His arms hung by his side, unaffected.

Pushing himself out, he landed on his sturdy feet, assuming a completely relaxed posture. It was as if the last few minutes hadn't even happened to him.

Vergil slung forward, his face hidden in the shadows. . . He chuckled again, "Is that all?"

"What?" She exclaimed, baffled.

A black, twisted aura surged all around him, like a sadist predator.

"A low life like you, thinking it can bring me to my knees. . . Not with that pathetic display." His voice alone sent vibrations through these sturdy walls.

"Pathetic!?" She bellowed at him, "I'll erase you, you arrogant halfling!"

She despised that attitude, though a handsome devil he may be.

Rearing her left arm back, the demon woman shot a barrage of purple, crystallic-prongs. He smirked.

CLING!

. . .

In the blink of an eye, the demon woman felt her arm sever, falling to the ground and dissolving into nothing.

She didn't even see it coming, and so, she roared in pain at this loss.

He loomed over her like a raven's shadow, driving her slowly to madness. His eyes swelled to orbs of crimson hate, the purity of his odium astounding.
This was a fine evening, all things considered. As an ordeal, the grim proceedings of the game were small trickles of an inevitable river's flow.
Succubi were curious things, a species of demon responsible for birthing generations of new evil, though they rarely fulfilled this duty thanks to Mundus.

He swallowed her aura, consumed her territory. This was the power of Sparda.

She was defiant, it reminded him of her. No, best not to think of her right now. . .

The demon charged at him, one arm left. Vergil raised Yamato and bounded forth. In a blur, he hammered the iron edge through her belly, driving it through so that the hilt touched her flesh.
He'd gotten her, right above her hymen. Her torturous skin cut easy, like tissue paper. It wasn't a hard fight. It was never going to be. The slayer didn't even hesitate, it only took one fluid motion.
The blade traveled up through her, her entire body subject to his might. The slice was clean. Her face froze, her whole nature ceased. It was like she'd been frozen in time.
In the final seconds, her mind fluttered, wondering how they'd both come to this. She was assured triumph before, now that conquest seemed so far from her grasp. It was as if she were falling.

"Tenebrae vobis. . . Tunc obliviscar tui." He said softly, his final words to her, like a eulogy.

'Darkness swallow you, time forget you. . .'

An old saying, in a phrase of latin. It was just a touch of evil he felt necessary to address. She wasn't worth remembering, so he chose not to let it end in her favor.
There was no glory in this, not even for him. Those people. . . While deplorable, did they really deserve what they got? No, it was more than what they deserved.

He sheathed his blade, it had served it's purpose. So, he walked. In the end, it was a hollow fight, one that left him somewhat sad, mournful.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the clean roman halls and bright light. Slamming the door behind him, the shockwave rolled.

And then, she came undone.

Vergil had pocketed a card earlier, but for why, he couldn't say. He felt the urge to look at it, feeling it may have been the idea that he sensed the outcome.
Yet, the concept of fate was not one he subscribed to. Still, what was the answer?

"Ace of spade. . . I win." He whispered.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence in his head. He wasn't even sure if he was still walking or if he'd stopped.

Patty spoke, "You did it."

"Yes." He said, looking onward as he kept walking out of the hall, "Are you alright?" The man wondered aloud, heading toward her.

". . ." She was silent, her smile from earlier had gone, "You scared me. All those people. . . All those people are-."

She fell to the tiled ground on her knees, trembling. He rushed the rest of the way to her side.
kneeling down, he held her shoulders, trying anything he could to comfort the young one. Her face was so troubled.

"Hey! Hey now, shhh." He tried to quell her oncoming sobs, "Close your mind to it, all that you saw was unavoidable."

She raised her voice at him, "Was it!? Was it!? Those people did not have to die!"

Her reaction stunned him, he thought she'd be happy he saved her.

"Why did you let them!? You're supposed to protect people!" She was right. He was. . .

He grabbed her and held her close to him.

"Shh, shh. I know, i know. . . I tried-"

She broke from his embrace.

"No you didn't! You- you. . ."

She buried her face in her hands. Why did this happen the way it happened? Why did he let it happen?
All this time, he'd claimed himself a better Dante, wanting to outclass him in every respect, but that wasn't true.

What he did in that room was indefensible, using innocent people, no matter how crummy they were, as cannon fodder.

"You're right. . ." He said.

She looked up at him.

"I-. . . I screwed up. I didn't save them. . . I was too selfish and idiotic to see I had a duty." He lamented this moral failing truly.

She saw his saddened eyes. The big hero was just as sensitive as she was, when it came down to it.
Or at least, that's what he wanted her to think. Though he did wish he could do it differently, the hint of tears was merely for dramatic affect.

Getting misty-eyed on cue. That's another thing he'd confront. . . Sometime.

She bought it, hook line and sinker.

"It's okay. . . I didn't- I didn't know." She said, hugging him finally.

Privately, he simpered to himself. This was what he had to do to get her moving again. Maybe one day he'd understand this type of regret fully, but for now, faking it would do.
This was for her own good, they had to get going, lest the law made themselves involved. They were taking too much time as it was. She came back to look at him, his baby blues returned.

"Promise me. Promise me next time that you'll save them! Save the people!" She was insistent, and he admitted that he couldn't say no to that little face.

He offered his hand to her and smiled.

"Let's go home."

They went for the the door out, but before they reached, he heard the sounds he hoped he'd never hear again after Temen-Ni-Gru, gun's cocking.
Whisking around, he faced thirty-two armed guards, all decked with pistols, shotguns and bullet proof vests. He pushed her slightly behind him and raised one hand up.

"We have you surrounded, if you believe whatchya see. How 'bout you let go of the child and come answer some questions for us, huh?" The lead officer spoke down to him.

He scoffed at that offer.

"I have a better idea." He mused.

"Oh?"

"You all stand here, and let me walk away."

This made all the officers laugh, who did this guy think he was? The Devil doesn't like it when he's made to feel a fool.
Summoning his fiery gauntlets, he showed them all his rage, and they opened fire. At least a hundred and twenty bullets or so.

You tend to lose count of the bullets after you become numb to the sensation.

He remembered his immediate promise to the girl.

Save them. Heh.

In a white-hot flash, he smashed his palms together, releasing scabrous flames that tore at the building's foundation.
Within a matter of seconds, the entire structure was ablaze. Vergil grabbed Patty and bolted through the door, out to the car.

"You promised not to kill them!" She squealed in his grasp.

"They can run, can't they?" He said calmly, and they exchanged wry smiles, though hers was cut with reluctance.

The fire flashed into existence in a wash of red and yellow sparks, consuming all the building. Like the beauty of running water, so unearthly. It was a dangerous beauty though.
Flames leaping up, people scattering, running away as fast they could, others staying to watch. The fire picked up speed like a river does tributaries.
It held its head up regally and proudly as its destruction spread, all while glowering at the surroundings. . . Daring the heavens to challenge its awesome power with a storm. It ate everything in its path.
Yellow, red and orange. The colors of autumn; yet, can autumn cause so much destruction? A person stood entranced by its beautiful depths. It seemed like a woman dancing, bringing him closer.
The fire licked at his outstretched arm, searing him. The smell of burning flesh crept onto his hand. It brought him out of his bizarre reverie. Yellow, red and orange.

The colors. . . Of autumn.

Screams echoed to those who stood outside. It came from a place of terror, telling of a mind lost in absolute fear.

"Somebody call for help, hurry!"

Everybody, get out of here.

Hurry.

She couldn't hear the panic, but he could. And it was best this way, an innocent mind as hers shouldn't be subject to death like this, and it was his failure earlier to keep her away from that farce.
So ridiculous, of course he should have checked her into a room, what was he thinking? He'd forgotten that spark of innocence, back when he was a child. Then again, he was forced to grow up early.
Sweet smoke curled through the thin fabric and billowed in dense clouds of sickly scents into the hallways.

Tendrils of it swirled up into their lungs as they breathed in deeply and burned invisible holes of foreshadowed diseases.

As he started the car, he heard a frantic knocking.

They looked to the side, it was Anthony.

Calmly, Vergil rolled down the window, "Toby."

"Tony!" The man corrected him.

"Whatever. What did you need?" Vergil replied.

"You gotta let me in man, I got nothin' outside this job!"

"Hmph Why should I?" The slayer questioned. He felt Patty's hand bump his shoulder.

Looking back at her, he saw that knowing look. Right.

"Look!" Tony demanded, plastering a briefcase to the window, "These are your earnings and all the other players too, I cashed you guys out, and uh. . . Some other guys too. . .
It's a lotta money, I grabbed what I could."

Ah. . . Vergil did need funds rather badly. Besides, what's one more partner in crime?
He was a good listener too, he'd told Joey to come meet him after the game. . . Er, Tony.

"Get in." Vergil said.

As he did, the trunk was peppered with buckshot, too far away to do any real damage though. The slayer hit the gas, burning the engine block to life.
Zooming off out of the parking lot, the trio busted through a barricade and swerved out onto the dirt, driving off into the night. They got far away, leaving behind any paltry police.

. . .

"Was that really necessary? You burning the place?" Patty commented after a while of driving through the dark.

Vergil didn't need the headlights to see. He could perceive all that was out in the blackness, the empty desert and it's transition into an oasis as they neared civilization.
It was just an empty basin, and sooner or later, rains would swallow it back up, long after humanity has had its run. The fires of that building summoned a deluge through which they now navigated.

The sound of drizzle helped calm everyone's nerves somewhat.

Thinking on her question, the hybrid answered her truthfully.

"I gave my word to the client, she did stipulate that I must burn King's residence." Not quite an adequate response for Patty.

"Honestly, I don't know if you're a good guy or a complete psychopath." Tony spoke up.

'You and me both.' He thought to himself

The drive continued.

It was a long time before they hit any society.

Finally, after a long, dreary drive home, they arrived outside Devil May Cry. . .

Out of nowhere his eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then, he saw nothing at all.
His consciousness was floating around, drifting through an empty space filled with thick static. Throughout the inky reality, his heart pounded loudly, echoing in his ears.
Alongside fading pleas for help, the image of something primal etched itself into his brain, a single symbol. A wolf. The face of a wolf burned itself into his eyes.
Feeling in his body drained away until, finally, all was dusk. It felt like some wretched nightmare.

In the distance, he heard Patty's voice. . . But he couldn't quite understand what she was saying.

After a moment, his eyes saw the color of the street.

Waking up from a deep slumber a thousand-years-long, his body ached.

Patty was slumped, standing under an umbrella near a bench behind him. Tony was sitting on the bench, nursing his forehead.

"Yes? Why are you looking at me like that?" He paused for a moment after noticing he'd walked quite far from his abode, "Tch, the shops are all closed."

"Are you okay? You looked like a Ghost. I-I didn't know what to do!" She whispered, the sense of fear was slowly leaving her.

Tony coughed, he sounded bad.

"God damn, I'm sorry I didn't call you sir, or whatever, but was it grounds to friggin' punch me out?" He was rather angry at him.

Vergil was confused, Patty was also thinking of correcting Tony to that 'Dante' merely tapped his forehead.

The slayer looked down at the ground as his vision continued to stagnate, flowing in and out of itself.
Finally, he managed to get himself to focus, and he eventually felt 'right' again. He regained his attention.

"Haah. . . I'm just tired, I'll sleep for awhile, inside." He told them, "Come on. Let's walk back."

Softly splashing water droplets hit the office windows. The trio approached the familiar setting.

The skies were overhung with a blanket of grey, even in the night, so much so that he could barely tell the difference between the sky and the clouds.
Despite walks feeling tedious, the rain commonly calmed him so much - The girl watched raindrops race down the complex apertures from under her parasol.

Something in his gut screamed. He didn't understand at first. As he approached the doors, the very moment he saw the neon sign in the distance, there was something that called to him.

The air itself felt wrong, and his senses were almost always right.

He stopped off near the stairs, and he was about to tell her to run inside immediately when he heard a sound of something hit the car ceiling.

"What was that?" He looked off to where he'd parked.

What he saw made him speechless.

Not so much of a person as a sagging shape. . . The face and hair of the woman from Vie de Marli, she was clinging to her bones for dear life.
Her facial features seemed to be in a constant state of both agony and ecstatic joy. He didn't think twice, firing a cyan blade toward the rope around her neck.

She fell roughly upon the car.

"You?" He darted to her aid, placing his fingers on the side of her neck. He felt a very faint pulse.

"What happened?" Tony half-panicked as he came over to him, "-Holy shit!"

He glared back at him.

"Was she here when we pulled up?" The Cambion was insistent and derisive.

"What!? No, of course she wasn't!" The man replied, "There wasn't anyone strung up when we pulled in!"

He saw Patty make way to them.

"Open the door!" Vergil said, standing to the side to let the girl see. He tossed her the front keys and Patty nodded.

She unlocked and opened the double door entrance for him. Vergil hurried, carrying Lucia to the couch. Resting her there gently, Tony propped the two briefcases he'd brought with him on the table.
Though he'd shown only one, there were indeed two, it was a lucky haul. Vergil needed the money after Dante's life of debt. He began trying to see if Lucia could hear him. What was her name again?

"Lucy, are you awake? Who did this to you?" He called out to her, but there was no response.

"Lily? No. . ." He thought back hard, did he ever know it?

'Lacie, Laila. . . Lainey. . . Ladonna.' The mental search kept up until, "Lucretia?"

Nailed it.

He placed his hand upon her head and started chanting, an attempt to restore her stamina through spirit. But, nothing changed, this was something he couldn't fix.

"Yo, look. What is that?" Tony pointed at her collar bone from the opposite side of the couch.

There seemed to be large teeth marks, the blood around it all dried up. Those markings, the striations across the flesh, the pattern all too familiar to him. . .

"A wolf bite." He whispered.

He remembered the two-headed wolves he had seen in Fortuna, but, that was over. He assumed it was.

"What, like a werewolf? Nah, no way." Tony said, "Not unless Van Helsing's in town."

The slayer glared at the man.

"Aheh, hmmm, maybe not the joke to make right now. . ." He then glared at the floor.

Vergil sighed and returned his attention to the girl.

"No, maybe it's not. . . At least she's alive. Barely. . ." He said, loud enough for Patty to hear.

"I'll grab some blankets for her." She ran upstairs for the bedroom.

"Blanket's aren't gonna close stab wounds, what are we gonna do, take her to the hospital?" Tony pondered their options.

Vergil ignored him, instead traveling to his desk where he retrieved something glowing.
He began an incantation as he placed the object in her hand, slowly applying pressure until. . .

A green aura engulfed her, and the energy of vitality absorbed into her form, the chakra of Heart. Though her physical wounds closed before their eyes, her eyes remained closed.
The more he thought about it, the more it made no sense. A demon cannot suffocate like this, a simple wolf bite should be healed like normal, unless these wounds are special. . . Of the astral form.
What creature could do this? Cutting across multiple dimensions to injure both the person and their very soul? The wolves? He wrote them off as beings that existed for the Order's purpose.
Perhaps not. He couldn't be sure now. Nothing was as it seemed, at least not how he wanted it to be.

What happened to her?

Tony stepped back in shock.

"Wh-What? What the hell was that!? Are you some kind of freak!?" Tony was shocked, unable to comprehend the magic he bore witness to.

Vergil cornered him, his red eyes glowing feverishly once more.

"Yes. Yes I am. Do you have a problem with that?" His prismatic presence came back to the fold.

Tony staggered to the office corner. He sank, his shoulders coming forward as his posture shifted.

"I-. . . I suppose not." The man said.

"Good. I could be your friend, Anthony. We could be very good friends. Do you want me to be your friend?" The slayer's face grew terrifyingly close.

"Y-y-. . . Yeah, I guess!" He began to breathe fast.

Vergil's tone changed from simple dominance to manipulative coolness.

"You're not going to get scared by this now, are you? It's just magic." His eyes turned icy blue again.

"No, no I- I'm not scared of that, it's just uh, it's just magic." He said, repeating what Vergil had told him as if he'd never said it at all, "I'm not scared, no. It's just magic."

He repeated himself for self-assurance. One could never be too careful.

"Do you want to make us all something to drink, like some tea or coffee?" Vergil suggested, stepping aside so the man could walk.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll make everyone a drink." He said blankly, walking forward to the office's small kitchen.

"See that you do." The slayer replied.

Patty returned and covered the trembling woman with a dark blue blanket.

"Is she going to be okay? Do you know her?" She asked.

Vergil came to stand next to the young girl.

"Yes," He whispered, "I'm not sure though. I'll try my best to help her."

Vergil placed his hands on her left shoulder, "From now on, do not walk anywhere alone. Do you understand?"

"W-Why?"

He sighed.

"Whatever attacked her is still out there."

That was enough to convince her. No more night walks. Lucia groaned slightly, and it seems she was beginning to move a bit.
Despite her invisible wounds, she was stirring. Good, maybe she was stronger than he gave her credit for. He remembered that she tended to need help.

"Hey, are you there?" He called to her again.

"It's . . . Raining. . . Pouring." She whimpered these words, and then, she was gone again.

To Be Continued

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this. It did cause some issues but I'm happy with the results. What do you guys think?

More to come, stay tuned.

Thank you Angel wolf.

Beta Reader here: Hey there. I fractured my hand, and I also lost progress on this three father-screwing times, so it's been delayed quite immensely.
I do apologize profusely for this, the entire chapter was far more difficult thanks to the nature of it as needing tension but not being a straight up fight.

Song references utilized are as follows:

'Judas Kiss' & 'To Live Is To Die' by 'Metallica,' 'Mad Hatter' & 'Hail to the King' by 'Avenged Sevenfold,' 'Go To Hell' by 'Megadeth,' and 'Man Kills Mankind' by 'Testament.'

Each serves a thematic purpose that also includes references in the prose, I recommend listening to each song while reading.

Or, you know, not. I guess. Your choice, I respect. Thats all from me for now, hope you enjoy.