It's still the same chapter, only Vergil and Lady scene is changed.
..Note at the end..
Chapter 21 ~ Witchtripper
It was humans they saw, or what they had been. All the bodies had been ripped apart and sewn together again, with most of its segments either missing or twisted around.
The faces had all been blackened as if left in a furnace. There was an eye gleaming at him, and the ladder of a spine, the vertebrae stripped of muscle; a few unrecognizable fragments of anatomy.
That was it. That such a thing might live beggared reason—what little flesh it owned was hopelessly corrupted, molded to the nature of evil.
Yet live it did.
Its eye, despite the rot it was rooted in, scanned her every inch, up and down.
"What the hell is that?" Vergil demanded.
Manah was stern, knowing who had done this was still out there, he just watched the failed hybrid twitch around.
"Poor soul . . . " He muttered before impaling it with his clawed fist, ending its bleak existence.
They were in a plane plot of wasteland behind the railway tracks running out of Waterloo Station. The pavilion inside stood unfettered by damage.
The two wooden gates hung open, and from the other side of the road, they could see a security shed with a window and beyond it the tottering piles of dead-broken cars.
Everything of value had been stripped away and only their rusting carcasses remained, heaped one on top of the other, waiting to be fed into the crusher.
"This is a complete mess." Vergil commented, "There's not even that many dead."
In the midst of their probe, Vergil heard a familiar laughter.
"Devil boy, devil boy! What am I going to do with you? . . . Perhaps this!" The very moment the voice finished that sentence, the two felt the temperature rise and the ground beneath them shake.
Something was about to erupt.
"What!?" Manah bellowed.
The clown lunged at them from nowhere. Vergil fired off a sonic slash with Yamato, simultaneously leaping for the fence that bordered the mall. Still, he felt flames crush his back.
An explosion of white-hot gas burst from the ground, the displacement of fiery air shoving him in the direction he'd jumped, hard. Everything moved too fast to separate, to understand chronologically.
His body buckling, blasting against the wall, the wall dissolving; the entire world blotted out in shades of stroking white and then into different colors of confetti.
He rolled sideways into the parking lot, bricks and black top biting into his shoulders, the horrific smells of flash-fried meat and burning hair washed over him.
Shards of blackened glass peppered the abandoned lot. Vergil rose to his feet, ignoring all of it as he spun around, ready to tear apart and murder the bastard right here.
Still, he couldn't understand what in the actual hell happened. Since when could Arkham do that?
He blinked his heavy eyes, clearing them, but for some reason, his vision remained blurry. He grabbed his forehead as a splitting pain overcame him.
"Boy?" He heard Manah's voice calling to him, "Boy!"
"I'm fine! Where is that bastard!?" He roared.
Spreading arms apart, Vergil brought metal gauntlets together with a sonic clap, releasing a surge of air. The wind blew away the smoke to an empty hole in the ground.
"No idea, he just vanished in a blur, but . . . Now I'm so interested."
The slayer could tell from the devil's voice that it had a new obsession. Maybe they could get an answer out of that clown after all.
After a moment, the pain vanished, and he could see clearly again. Manah emerged by his side from a shadow in the ground and they stood back to back, looking for the bastard.
From the corner of his eyes, Vergil made out a lone figure limping away. Limping . . . So, that tactic hurt to use? The closer he looked, the more he realized.
It was just a normal guy. Jester had all but disappeared as soon as he'd attacked.
"Geh, just another victim." He pointed out, his horned ally subsequently seeing the man as well, "He must know something, I can sense his fear."
"So, you want to see for yourself?" Manah wondered aloud, "Follow me."
He flashed away into a void of darkness. Reappearing ahead of him, the robust demon stopped this young man.
Eyes widened, breaths ragged and harsh, his hands trembled at their resting grounds and he jammed his fist into his mouth to stifle the scream.
"Hello . . . Let's be friends." Manah's face reverted to its true visage.
The human fell on his back, watching the beast approaching him, hoping his death would be fast.
He mumbled at first, jittering like a stick in the wind, but, after a panic-charged instant, he was able to form a loose sentence.
"P-Please . . . Make it fast."
No hope.
Vergil arrived, zipping over in a red blur just above the ground. His silver eyes looked so alien, shining rage as he turned back to the man.
The two demons exchanged looks before they knelt down to him. No sense in murdering information.
"Don't be absurd, your death would mean nothing. Just tell us what happened." Vergil commanded.
The man laid his head back, stretching his neck as he took a loud breath. He heard a sound in his mind.
A sound of metal, a low rumbling that just carried on and on. The drone urged him to look back at them.
Without a question he followed the order and looked at the duo. Vergil had a bemused look on his face all while Manah smirked.
The man couldn't keep his eyes away from the stranger in a suit, his face transformed back to a human's.
"Come on, you can tell me, I'm looking out for you. What did you see?" Manah pushed his voice to a trill, asking again, "What did you truly see?"
"I-I'm-. . ." The man stuttered. He could sense a strong pressure on his tongue, as if someone forced him to drink glacial waters.
"I saw a clown, or maybe he was a Harlequin, I- It was hard to tell. He was a psychopath. He had the blackest eyes I've ever seen, moving with a pack of-. . . Of werewolves by his sides.
He talked about a gathering for the big finale. Look, I know it sounds insane but- I tried to run away, but I got hurt. I think i popped a rib and my hip feels dislocated. It all happened so fast."
Once the man realized what he'd just said, he covered his mouth, surprised.
Somehow, he'd spoken without willing himself to, it was hard to describe the feeling, as if someone else had spoken for him.
But that wasn't right either, he knew it was himself talking, he just hadn't been intending to speak at all. The confused citizen looked at them.
"Your cooperation is appreciated." Vergil said, staring at Manah as they started walking away, leaving him behind.
There wasn't any doubt, it had to be that maggot. Arkham had come to command the wolves, but how? He should've been dead.
That man should be lying in a grave in the sky, the gates of hell had spit him out somehow.
Lady.
She had been here, his head perked up and turned on its own to a train car that had been derailed.
It was barely obscured by the smell of death, but it was there . . . She was there, or had been. Yes she was gone now.
Other's might have missed it, unable to distinguish, but he knew her.
He always knew her.
He had to find Lady. It'd been a little while now, he knew she wouldn't want to see him but . . . He had to check on her. Something drove him to see the woman.
"A clown. Who would've imagined, a mere clown dares to try and invade me." Manah paused for a moment, thinking about it.
Vergil had stopped to stare at the accident.
"Sight-seeing?" The demon looked genuinely concerned, staring at him just like he had earlier in the office, when he didn't answer, "Boy."
Vergil's eyes glared at him, festering red fury, "Call me that again."
"Relax boy, we must continue searching. That clown can't be far away."
What he sensed that day . . .
'No, there must more to it.' He thought.
Vergil turned and looked back, "Can you track down individuals?"
Manah stared silently.
The beast knew what would be asked of him before the words even left the boy's mouth, there was just a feeling in the air.
"Yes . . . In a way." He replied.
"We need to find someone right away," Vergil said flatly, "A woman from Sparda's witch, Charlotte's bloodline."
"Of course," He gloated, "A simple task."
. . .
The town's square was a mass of confusion and motion, but he knew the one direction he had to go: Lady.
No matter what it took, he'd find her, unless he came across Jester again and stopped him in his tracks. The thought of that fool clenched over his fists.
His fingers dug into his palms, grinding through the glove's fabric into his flesh. Drops of blood trailed him through the mob of people.
"This way." Manah pointed at the right path.
Vergil spun on his heels, dashing around fearful humans trying to run away and find a safe place. The street was packed with stupidity, most people found shelter in their own homes.
Too bad there were too many people blocking their way. He fled toward the other side of the street, rushing after Manah into a back alleyway. He saw the brute leap up the side of the building to the roof.
Vergil followed suit, sprinting up the side of the building after him to an empty rooftop. Off to the side, they saw a group of humans making shelter out of the flat summit.
The Cambion sensed a new heat ascend around him followed once more with a sudden burst of fire. The explosion spit him out into the side of a building on the other avenue.
Again, just what had happened in the lot. His body hung on a rebar impaled through his spleen. A horde of dark things emerged around his associate.
The old guard, demons of the ilk the night Jester stormed his front door, and had failed. So, the fool still held control over these mongrels . . . The enemy was powerful.
But what of that fire?
Manah growled, closing his eyes. A black aura seethed out from him, "What an absolute waste of time."
His voice grew thick and spiteful. The devil's body began vibrating in surges, bat wings then sprouted from sin's back. The flesh of his human face tore itself apart to reveal the beast under the surface.
That twisted visage emerged, it's goat horns sharpening. The mane of hair thickened as his muscle fibers expanded, his form flexing to a state of pure hate, his power held no functional limits.
The dark master came unglued.
He hissed an ugly curse that made those creatures that hung around howl for mercy. Vergil grunted, lifting his head to see the scene unfold . . . It was interesting, no doubt.
Manah took a breath, and like a dragon in stories, he burned the place, unleashing the flames of cremation to all the creatures foolish enough to test him.
In one second, every cretin turned to ash, breaking apart to nothing in an instant. They were unmistakably annihilated.
Jester's original cronies still followed his will, off to their deaths. Was that even possible, to command two legions at once?
This was becoming contrived, his blood boiled.
Through the ashes, Manah returned to human form, huffing out a sigh. It was like someone just told him he should wash the dishes.
"They're such a bother. . ." He dusted his suit lazily, then shouted, "Are you alright over there?"
"Damn it! . . . I'm fine." The slayer raged at the beast, "Those explosions are testing my patience . . ."
"So, shall we keep going? Or, are you going to keep sulking in that crater?"
"Tch, don't push me." He said as he forced himself off the bar, using his vantage point to leap for the other side. He landed with a roll.
Taking a quick breath, he straightened up as he dusted off his coat.
The blood blended in, no need to cleanse it yet. Perhaps when it turned brown.
"We may be forced to work together, but don't think I'll tolerate disrespect lying down." The slayer told him, "You're a strange beast, not sure if I should be amused or bored."
"Be pleasantly surprised: I haven't ripped out your spinal cord yet." The beast replied.
Silence fell.
"You know I don't fear you." The slayer told him.
"I know, and you know I don't fear you either." The mule's retort was impressive, "Swallow your pride as I have mine. Weren't we tracking this woman of yours?"
He gritted his teeth, it was so enraging getting thrashed about like this.
Fine, if this demon would undermine his professionalism, he would return the favor.
". . . She's an acquaintance."
"Hehehe, sure she is . . . The woman you seek still smells far from here. She's gone away, almost like she's left town." His tone felt agitated.
"You can sense it too. She's still in town somewhere." Vergil replied, "This county is large, she could be anywhere on the outskirts."
"I don't know what this is that I've been feeling, but I'm no breadfan. It has a touch of evil to it." Manah spoke while his eyes watched everything around them.
They slid down the building after witnessing the streets clear. Good, no sickly humans to meddle.
Landing was an easy task, now they walked on. Walking was a simple but arduous time-wasting activity.
They sped it up a bit, racing through the roads where her scent still remained.
Vergil came to a stop, looking on ahead to a dark wolf plodding towards them. Razor talons five inches long grew from the claws on it's left hand.
The slayer blurred, fading in and out as he outgunned the carnivore's lunge at the last second. Flinching, he hurled six swirling blades in a sapphire salvo.
They blocked it's way just as he dove frantically to the right, wielding Yamato.
A barrage of savage waves cut through it's flesh, lopping off limbs like a child crushing ants.
The beast let out a fiendish shriek, baying at the sky. It dropped to the ground, hyperventilating, flopping about limbless like a fish out of water.
"That direction." Manah pointed in the distance.
His partner saw where they should go next, a dusty road that led off to a back highway, tortured reds above the sunset.
Vergil regained his footing, scanning around himself wildly. More wolves had risen above the rooftops of the houses, looking for their next prey.
His presence was alarming to them. They stopped, wondering on him as if he were somehow a leader. Why? Why had they stopped?
"What are you staring at!?" He barked, his face losing humanity, "I'm here, come to me!"
Their faces looked tortured, but they complied to his demands, leaping for him.
In one flash, he removed Yamato and released a shuddering plasma-wave.
Returning the katana to its sheath, the beast's all ceased motion, eyes blankly staring.
He dragged the weapon in till an inch of the blade remained exposed, then, he shunted the handle inside to a loud click.
All the dog's fell to bits, turned into quivering cubes of jelly. The man at the center felt a strain on his chest.
He had yet to exercise his abilities in that way, the unfiltered release of his body's strength was a little much.
Damn, how long would it take for him to get used to being normal again? Still, at least he was able to keep going, the strain would fade away soon enough.
Manah was impressed by the display, almost to where he didn't realize what it was.
The slayer had to match the Devil's own show.
"Damn it, what are you doing?" He said, "Don't go around overcompensating, you'll end up dead."
"That was just to let you know who's still chief," Vergil replied loudly, "Don't go getting ahead of yourself believing you have the leverage."
The brute growled, leaping from his far vantage to land beside the son of Sparda.
He had a look in his eyes that told a story of turmoil, of what this volatile boy was doing to get on his nerves.
"I have more than you think, boy." He glowered at the silver mercenary, "We should keep scouting for her, lest more of these poor animals come to our feet."
Vergil grumbled, the two at an impasse. After exchanging violent stares, Vergil ignored him, going back to the current predicament.
"You don't think . . . Is this all really just him alone who's commanding the wolves?" The slayer had to ask.
There was a long silence that stood in the way of his answer.
Eventually, the satyr snorted to himself, granting the request.
"No," He paused, "Something is wrong. This is all wrong." His gruff voice was filled with enervated anger.
. . . Darkness renewed, the flames of chaos were rising once more, inside an umber hollow . . .
Staring blankly at the young man, Lady took a closer look and saw in his hand a ceremonial knife. Unconsciously, she drew her guns.
Holding him at gun point, he initially played fearful but soon realized this was an exercise in futility. He ceased acting and revealed the true face beneath.
His face grew yokai tusks out of his lower canines, building out and curving towards Lady.
One horn poked out the left side of its forehead and a partial red tint emerged on it's skin.
"So, you're the demon who's been terrorizing the locals?" She spoke to him cold.
The creature smiled meekly. Some random but brave human threatening him, he didn't exactly experience this on a regular basis.
She looked strained, as if the sight of its face terrified her to her very core. . . Yes, that must be the reason, it could think of no other.
"Relax, human." It spoke while shifting down to a sitting position. The thing was slumped in the corner of the place, staring out from the dim mess.
Its voice was ashy, sounded deeply tired.
The demon was injured viciously, covered in bloody gashes across its front.
With a worn, bothered sigh, it spoke, "My name is Brad; I mean you no harm."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Braaad?" She said, dragging out the syllable in disbelief.
"Yes, I rather like the name," He said quietly, his appearance restoring its humanity, "It fits this face rather nicely."
"Uh-huh. . ." She said, keeping her pistol trained, "Why are you here?"
"Answer's easy: I've been forced to be here by someone else. Not sure who or why yet - I had no choice but to remain here so he wouldn't kill my wife."
Wife?
She slightly lowered her weapon, though kept it's barrel trained, still unsure of trusting him.
"What does that mean?" She asked, "Demon's don't have wives."
The man smiled a bit.
"I've seen that face before, you won't believe how much. I might be a demon but I have a normal life with her . . . Until the master attacked me. For her safety I endured the injuries."
Lady woodenly shook her head. She stared off into ceiling, for a moment.
This was bizarre, almost lunacy. A demon. Married.
A married demon.
"So was it a lovely wedding in the black pit?" She quipped.
"Of course not, she's a human. I'd have never wanted us married in Hell." Brad, reached with his hand and showed her the ring on his finger. . .
Lady gritted her teeth and re-centered her aim on him, "I don't believe you! Who's this 'master' of yours?"
She cocked the pistol, prepared to end his life. To her surprise, he didn't show any sign of fear to her.
He closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. With his injured hand, he searched through his pocket and took out an old paper photograph.
He raised his hands and chose to offer the picture.
"Look at this." He said, she walked toward him cautiously.
Keeping the weapon trained, she slowly put out her hand and grabbed the parcel from him.
Lady examined it carefully, viewing the same man as who stood before her now, holding onto a brunette woman.
With a deep exhale, she lowered her weapon and returned the picture to him.
"I'm sorry. Know anything about what's happened in here?" She knelt down to his level and asked him, "Do you even know what's been going on out there?"
He chuckled, "There's a war going on no man is safe from. The only thing I can tell you is a Jester follows him, they seemed to be seeking something here.
It seems they've almost gathered everything they need. But for what, I don't know myself. I only came here to protect her. They knew this weakness of mine.
How could I refuse them when they threatened the only thing I fight for?" The man grew depressed by the end of it.
Her father, again?
And mention of a master.
What creature could've crawled from hell?
Who would be seeking the wolves at all?
"Hurry . . . You've got to leave this place, it's dangerous. You must find Sparda's legacy." He paused for a moment.
Lady shook her head. What kind of bullshit was this? No answers and a dislocation of power.
Dark devils were prowling around the yard, stalking her movements with a proverbial perversion of truth.
At least this one was nice, somehow.
She took out a flask from her belt. It contained a drink she'd purchased from a reliable underground vendor, made from a plant from the middle east. It was helpful for curing wounds.
"Drink this." She said, noticing the sticky blood still dripping from his wrists.
Hesitantly, he accepted her offer. Indeed, the substance helped him feel better, albeit by a slim margin. Regardless, it wouldn't wash away everything from him.
In time, his body felt strengthened, and he gained enough energy to will himself to use his magic. Ancient forces gathered at his fingertips and he directed the healing to her.
It's power permeated her body, fixing small injuries and internal wounds, all her vigor amounted to blue gammas floating in the shell.
He was the mule, the god that reduced her sentence; at least here, the life hadn't become rotten, staying strong against the wailing walls of darkness.
In the end, the light burned for only a minute, but it was a grand time.
"Thank you . . . " He whispered and took her hand, "Let me do something for you in exchange."
"Uh, I thought you just did." She said, but he merely smiled, so she had to ask, "No?"
Brad's face looked a bit more lively than before, "I have the ability to see the future."
"Yeah, yeah, and Santa Claus shot JFK." She responded, disbelieving the claim.
See the future? Now that's too much to bear, regardless of whatever quirky powers demon's could have. Interesting.
Lady refused to take this seriously anymore. The last few weeks were making her rethink almost all her life. Still, no harm done in trying.
"No, really. I know how it sounds, but you must believe me." He told her.
"Well sure, I mean, everything else impossible has already happened, why not visions of spacetime?"
Her sarcasm triggered a rather sad expression in her company's eyes.
"Jeez, if you're gonna get professionally offended . . . Go ahead." She'd ceased to care about reality, this twisted world's sense of humor.
Lady submitted her hand forward and waited, "Tell me the future. How does it all end, Bradley?"
He corrected her perception, "I can't tell everything, just a chunk. Time doesn't let me see too far in the details, but some things are fixed."
"What, so it's like 'half' the future?" She asked, already feeling dumb for going along with it.
"Mm, somewhat. I won't know if it's far off or close by, it's like an impression more than a true vision."
After a moment of silence, she stared his dark eyes down.
"Tell me then . . . If I-. . . If I push myself, will I kill my father?"
Brad closed his eyes and began mumbling strange words unknown to her. Suddenly, she felt dizzy. It was as if she were falling backwards; the ground sunk alongside herself.
Through the tainted black, she saw a devil's brightness, and with this came a storm of distant echoes, voices speaking. All were spouting their prayers, hawking from their nightmares.
Sinister gold dotted the frontlines of hate, left unprotected because no one took a stand, so now they withered and grew mischievous.
She opened her eyes but everything was so, so blurry. Her vision was clouded by the color blood and so she lightly touched her eyes, hoping they would not be mutilated.
Thankfully, there wasn't any pain, they were fine. She rubbed the corners of her eyes and blinked them shut several times. Eventually, her muddy vision cleared, she saw a crimson sky.
The ground looked to be made of leaves, as if it were a swamp bed. They were tinted brown with rot.
High above, there was something in the sky. She couldn't make it out at first.
Then, it crystallized. It was herself, naked and bruised. There, suspending her body in place, were black tentacles invoked from a void.
She could hear her own voice screaming hoarse, crying out for eternity. Braying, alone and cold, her loneliness remained.
Before her, at eye level, she saw her own father mumbling things in greek and latin. He was bowing down before a deity, a great stone man.
It was a ritual of some kind, whatever its reason was, the procession stunk of old magic, the black hatred of an ancient time.
Lady's face, her other self above, it fell faster than a corpse in cement boots.
In the very instant Arkham finished his black ramblings, her hair grayed, her mouth hung with lips barely parted, and her eyes blasted open as wide as they could stretch.
"You served your purpose, my dear Mary." He sneered, "It'll be over in a moment, count backwards from ten."
So far away was the golden sun, her aching chest and blurry sight could not defend against the moors in this state. Flashes of bloodletting and tendons ripping came to her forefront.
Bathed in vermillion luster, all the trappings of the demon realm surrounded and corroded her, choked her.
In all this she couldn't tell which was true and which was dream, so she felt to scream at the top of her lungs, screaming just so she could feel alive again. The thumping wouldn't stop.
Just like that, the scene vanished and she found herself staring at Bradley's eyes. Those innocent eyes.
She pulled her hand back, her whole self recoiling out of disgust and hatred and fear; all the great hallmarks of damage.
"What the- What the hell!? What I saw . . ." She murmured, at a loss for words, "That can't be real - that cannot be real! . . . Is it? You're playing with my mind!"
Lady heaved a long sigh, hand clutching her face.
It felt like she was sick, sick with that longing agony, and when the time lord unbound her and she was permitted presence tense, she felt all sense flee.
His eyes stared back at her, belligerent in the mode of knowing; knowing exactly when the now was worth it or not. The things he showed her were harsh.
He'd been through it, seen all the steeples of the mind, but none were strong, not like a devil's.
Still, she was a tenacious one, so he explained for her.
"This is your future how it stands. I can't change it, but never forget; it's not truly what may come, it can alter and twist."
"Wait, it's not set in stone?" She replied.
"Yes, you don't have to fear what you saw, but you can't forget it. Don't ever forget it." Brad replied, "Time is a hard, confusing mess . . . I wish I knew what to say."
Lady changed her mind within seconds. She was actively wasting time by staying here and talking to this man about the nature of the future.
Immediately, she straightened up her blazer and dusted herself off, looking around the hollow. It was time to leave before the light would dim.
"Thanks for the information."
It's time to end Arkham.
She'd kill him once and for all.
If she would have to scrounge through the entire city to find that degenerate.
God must hate them, for all the suffering this web of darkness spun between so many lives, He must despise them.
The Devil must hate them too, after all, Lady's one of his rejects. Knowing all that about what happens in the end, when they all. . . Die. . .
It must drive Brad insane.
She didn't care.
The destruction she'd witnessed was enough.
. . .
Lady snapped the lighter closed at the dirt path going back from the shrine and took a deep breath, trying to psych herself up for whatever came next.
The road was destitute, things lay scattered across her mind as she focused it all on the imaginary death of one man. She puffed on her cigarette, smoking them only in times of duress.
Like now.
The chill of the dark behind her pressed on her back like an icy hand, yet once more she hesitated, the pistol felt loose beneath her fingers as she slipped the warm lighter into her belt pocket.
She wasn't particularly looking forward to ascending into the unknown, but she had nowhere else to go, not unless she desired to turn a blind eye on current events.
That would be just like waiting till it was her turn to die.
Not going to happen. She wished there was more time. There was only so much a person could understand before the gravestone arrived.
She took a breath and forced a smile into her face. She rode on her motorcycle and revved up back to the city. This is going to be a long night.
She wondered if she'd survive, the knowing of her fate weighing heavy like brick boots.
The moon was bright tonight, illuminating all that once shined in the day, now silhouettes of change.
Riding along the dirt path, something began to bug her. It was an insistent tug in her stomach, telling her uneasy things as she sped.
The willowing trees and their mossed bark screamed to her that nature was encircling, choking it's way around her every second.
She heard the sound of someone following her.
A familiar cackle followed by loud howls stung her forehead.
No time to wonder how the horde had found her so quickly. Lady turned right into the avenue and kept speeding. Perfect; he'd come to her.
She desperately looked around for something she could use to distract it long enough for her to find an advantage, separate that mule from the rest.
A burning fire pushed her to face him alone and finish this strange revival.
She pulled over to the side of the back road in the village. Leaving her motorcycle parked there, Lady began running for a well in the street.
It was desperate, but she had to hide herself somewhere, and if she left her motorcycle nearby, the creatures would find her too soon. She had to outfox them somehow.
Improvisation wasn't really a strong suit of hers, that was always left up to Dante.
She managed to reach the sleepy town center and made a beeline for the waterhole. Almost there . . .
The bounty hunter found herself blasted far-forward by an unseen compulsion, arriving at the fence of a house beyond the well.
With a tremendous smash, Lady collided with the wooden barrier and broke through it, rolling into the backyard.
Groaning as she tossed her left side over, she pulled herself up and got back on her mortal feet, crouched on one knee.
That hurt.
The cause was a stealthy wolf, whose fist had smacked her across the way.
She had no explanation for her continued consciousness, so she drew.
Her grip with the Beretta didn't waver at all.
Lady aimed up and shot the beast that assaulted, one of its maws at arms-length from her head. Red mist painted the fence, she shot again and the beast was done.
This was no place for a fight, so close to the lives of humans, what would they say if they saw it? Destructive bullets killed the flaw easily, the savage fell cold at the ground.
One round through both brains; she felt so bad for them, they couldn't be acting on their own desires.
Kicking up to her feet, she felt her chest give out, stumbling forward to grasp it.
After a moment, the air flowed freely again as her lungs expanded. She hadn't really recovered from the blow until now.
Lady spat out a small patch of blood, then cleared her mouth with a red glove.
She readied her armaments.
Diseased with leprosy, a shaggy wolfman barreled toward her, begging death and blood to heal the plague on its flesh through release. That release neared as a cartridge tore an eye apart.
It stumbled a bit, so the femme fatale took her chance and readied Kalina Ann to be launched, slinging the anti-tank weapon around to stab with the serrated edge, "Let's light up."
Her taunts were legendary. A brilliant glow of orange shook the ground as flames burst out from it's chest, the weapon itself surviving the blast easily.
Flung backwards, fire latched to the grounds and the fences, Lady's fringe remained intact despite the heat. It was dead at least, but there was no running now.
Wolves of five still living crept upon her to pounce. An Uzi's breath took care of that.
Thrusting the weapon into the dirt path, the bazooka's vents on the side opened.
From them came artillery shells blasting out in streams of nuclear smoke. They swam irregular.
Deliverance of this ash to the masses was swift, the explosions sparking numerous as beast after beast fell.
This raging downpour of hatred filled the silence so loud, to the point of all else fading away. It felt good.
It was liberating to release that rage.
More came, as they naturally do.
So she put more in the ground, all the missiles a dog's best friend.
Two rounds; at least ten dead this time. She was getting better at this.
This still wasn't the end.
They came to Lady like moths to flame, setting dual eyes on her defined neck. She pulled the trigger again, but her weapon only clicked empty.
Her eyes widened as she cursed herself for being so careless. She hadn't restocked since last time.
She reached for her lower back and rearmed herself with the beretta and the Uzi. She took to use the trees to her advantage. The moonlight gleamed everything an exaggerated blue.
The small town was rocked by the skirmish. People were surely looking now, wondering where those bright flames had come from. Who would put them out? No human had the courage.
So long as those beasts still roamed the roads, no man had the bravery to stop their fire.
Darting off to the side, the hunter managed to lunge over the fence, holstering the lesser pistol to climb branches. The dogs came for her, driven mad with corruption.
Lady aimed again, though she a felt a strong slap against her cheek, the force of it threw her far to the middle of the street.
Her mind barely registered what happened.
The blow had come from nothing, from nowhere.
She could feel the flaming wounds in her cheek and her shoulder. Raising her head, right before her stood the buffoon.
"You're done, Mary." Her father seethed a gleeful malice.
Flashes of her future played back in her mind, if she gave up now . . . She would end up in chains, hellbound forever.
She gritted her teeth, clenched her ragged fists.
Not going to happen.
She pulled herself back up and stared at the clown dead in the eyes, showing him she was not afraid.
Lady looked for her Uzi, that attack had made her drop them behind somewhere. She stared down her father.
Manic depravity met fearsome rage.
With a flick of his pale wrists, the wolves charged toward her again. She watched carefully for the perfect moment.
An ear-piercing screech burst from its mouth as a pack of three catapulted high into the air. Roughly six more rushed at her ground-wise.
She rolled backwards in a somersault, sliding through a pair of parted canine legs. The creatures collided with each other, their target missing.
In the briefest of moments, Lady could have sworn that she saw the reflection of light come off a claw as they all rushed in.
At the corner of her eyes, she had earlier spotted her weapons, and so planned accordingly. Demonic howls echoed in the street and Lady cocked her weapons.
Jester watched her with a twisted look of pleasure, there was a darkened object on the asphalt near him.
"Hmmm! You're turning me on, sweet butterfly. Fight harder, it'll be worth it when I catch you and present your vessel to him."
"Shut up!" She yelled as she opened fire.
Head shots were the best bet, but supplies were dwindling. A large brute made the dash, shining those dual eyes.
The creature spread its arms apart as the claws released forward; this was her chance.
With a scowl, Lady shot up the wolf's face, pumping nine millimeters like a hose, more than once aiming for the eyes. No mercy.
Stumbling over, it almost collapsed right on top of her.
Side-stepping the behemoth, she bid her time till the siamese head laid right at her feet. One boot stomped on its face.
It hissed almost feline, screaming as she unloaded the last shot in the stem. Dropping out the clip, a quick change was needed.
She swiped over her belt and used momentum to click the new magazine inside.
Stepping over the corpse, she struck out three Beretta rounds in a blue-eyed skull.
She'd killed one this way, yet felt overwhelmed against the tide of the pack. Not good.
"Murder's not becoming of a lady like you," She heard her father say, "He won't like that. I promised him sweet Mary, not ruthless rage."
"Who are you talking about!?" She finally yelled, frustrated.
Surrounded, it felt like there wasn't any hope.
The wolves were stronger than the monsters she'd faced previously, even if she knew their weaknesses.
Arkham placed a hand in front him and a few pops of orange emerged just as the chain reaction hit ignition.
A massive demolition of fire and embers ruptured into existence. She felt the sting of the heat, left with no time to dodge.
Thrown back, she felt the pain center into her lower lumbar while she hit the ground. Singe marks dotted her pinstripe blazer.
What was that? Jester's red nails remained buried under smoke, the wind eventually clearing them away.
She wiped off sweat from her forehead and looked up.
She killed so many, but it just wasn't enough.
All manner of wolf bore down on her, stalking closer and closer
. . .
Cobalt blades reigned down on the wolves like a deadly monsoon. Each closest to her came apart like string cheese, falling away.
Through the air traveled spurts of fire, setting ablaze only the target. So controlled and vicious, the flames burned high, but not wide, avoiding her almost cosmically.
Jester squinted, more arrived, aided by hellions, the same as that night Lady saw her father alive again. As more came, more fell to the summoned swords.
No need to look, she knew who it was.
Vergil landed on a tiled roof, standing tall above them.
His silver eyes looked crazed, flooding in crimson as he viewed Jester's 'art.' He lifted one hand and indigo orbs surfaced, raging violent air against metaphysical sword strikes.
All father's wolves came undone.
Phasing almost through reality itself, the slayer arced in a blur of vermillion, touching down in front of Lady.
He stood from his knee, smoke smoldering from his hands and feet, standing between them and her. The slayer's face held no remorse for this, no repent.
"Yes. Time for answers, Arkham," He spat the words, "It's time for the clown to suffer."
Arkham shook his head, shifting to his scarred visage. Purple irises glowed back at them. The man lifted one sadistic finger in response.
"One: Rage."
He showed another finger and continued,
"Two: Grief."
The blackened minister glared demented, empty of any emotion beyond simple insanity. Hell rots the mind, so they say.
"You will never win, my dear Mary," The man then pointed at Vergil, "The clock is ticking and your death is near."
The devil grit his teeth as those words,
"Time to kill you again." Vergil drew Yamato and prepared his steel with the kind of rage that begat murder.
Just the mere sight of the man made his fists clench.
"Remember Dante?" He kept going, "Do you have any idea what happened before he took his last breath?"
Vergil felt the pain in his chest return, it was never easy to remember it, but he could survive.
Arkham wouldn't.
"It's all so sad, really. His soul cried for you," The man relished every word, "Your mind is wondering now, I can feel it. What do I want to tell you? What do I know that you couldn't bear."
The moment he finished that sentence a sharp stab ran his shoulder through, a blue brand pierced his flesh.
Both his face strained forward every vain as his shoulders rolled toward them as well.
Jester's voice let out an elongated scream, the man shifting back to the pale joker as he fell to his knees, groveling "Ah-whoa, easy there, my boy! You could've killed me."
Vergil's face grew sinister, the humanity flushed away.
His voice deepened, becoming ever so gruff as his fists burned.
"Yes, but it's better this way that you live. You can feel the pain a little while longer." He said as he took a step forward.
The harlequin's face twitched, "I'm afraid not today, Vergil. I've more important things to do than fawn over one piece of the puzzle."
The slayer looked ready for another beating, but Arkham still remembered the last time.
Too well, in fact. The sensation of tasting copper in his mouth stuck in his stomach.
"No time for argument-" With no warning, Vergil blasted forward a right hook into the purple comic's nose, sending him flying back into a stationary wolf-man.
"This isn't the tower, fool." The man growled.
The clown struggled to his feet, dusting himself off.
Opening his jaw produced a clicking sound.
That huge snout on his twisted face looked impossibly broken, pulsating purple.
Spitting black fluid to the ground, he countered, "Geh, alright, that attack was fairly impressive. Just for that improvement, I'll leave you with one of my classic raps I know you love so much!"
Oh there was something in him Vergil despised, that was sure.
Unmitigated by time, unrestricted by any means, this undead fool would make Vergil tear the world apart if it meant destroying this wretched clown.
The slayer knew it wouldn't end, not here, not yet anyway.
"You rushed in to save a friend so thin, the white horse move with which you cannot win, a clue you'll find among the bones, then meet your doom upon the headstones." He grinned so wildly.
Fog started to gather around them all. Once he spoke the last word, the fog condensed into a thick orb.
Silence dominated the cold night until the sphere burst unexpectedly, releasing a blinding scarlet before anyone could act.
Both Lady and Vergil watched the wolves vanish with him.
Their chance to end him was gone, ripped away once more.
"I'm sick of this . . ." Lady whispered, face bowed down.
She'd gotten to her feet after the punch.
The flames burned quietly, eating the ground and parts of the trees.
Vergil stayed still, looking out through the darkened views as civilians watched them through the blinds.
After a moment of reflection, he turned back to face her. It'd been awhile since he heard her voice, but he was glad he had the chance to see her again.
He felt his gut knot up a little, was this right? Was any of it right? It started to rain again, falling on his head like new emotions.
The fire's died out, suffocating against the rainfall.
She was studying him uncertain, blinking water out of her eyes.
Vergil wanted to say something, anything. He couldn't exactly find the right words.
This silence persisted.
The deluge grew somewhat, soaking the hurt soils with healing for another day.
"Are you alright?" He asked finally.
She stared at him, wondering about those eyes, "I'm fine."
He knew she wasn't, but still, he lightly nodded. They were done now, so he started walking away from her.
A feeling of loneliness remained, weighing down their world-weary shoulders. He hated it, but this was what she wanted; space.
Their was a feeling inside him, the desire to protect her above all others. He didn't understand it, he couldn't, not yet.
"I-!" She said, stopping him, "I think . . . I don't think we can handle being around each other yet . . . But . . ."
Her eyes met his eyes.
It still permeated between the two, the damage shared.
Lady took a few steps closer. His expression was frozen.
Stone-faced, just like she remembered. Yet now he came forward, standing tall. Soft thunder clapped in the distant forest woods, a gentle storm breeze ruffled her hair.
The midnight gales were cool, feeling a nice reprieve from the retching hold of the city heat.
She closed her eyes, her breath shaken. Lady had to tell him, she owed him that much at least. . .
"Thank you."
It was barely more than a murmur, so much so that she wasn't sure if even he heard it. Of course he did.
She was about to turn away when she heard him reply back that it was okay, his voice so secure.
His lips opened and those stilted words came, and he made it clear through their briefness that he was both fine and hurt.
He didn't like it at all, feeling abandoned but also feeling some sense of pride wash about him. So faint, the words were like careless whispers.
"I'm glad." That was all he said.
Even when he was wrong, he got his point across. So this was where they fell.
She leaned in toward him, missing the way his cologne smelled, how his spirit reached no limit.
The slayer ran his fingers through his hair, cradling doubt against his chest.
Resting his hands as the drizzle wept on, the slayer held a bleak look in his eyes.
Eve was naturally an enchanted time of day, either for those who were isolated or those who sought understanding. He acknowledged that much.
There was a mutual bond that connected her to his mind, he knew it wouldn't ever leave him now. She looked up at him, those wide eyes wondering about his thoughts.
The silence was cruel, neither knowing what to say now. Vergil felt pain rise from his memory, wondering why again he'd left the bed. But the answer was simple.
He wasn't Dante. He couldn't ever be Dante.
And to think, of all the time in his life, none but one had felt for him the same.
He squandered that, thinking it beneath his immortal rite. Part of why he hated humanity was people's proclivity to overlook him.
Why pay attention to him when there's Dante? Dante looked exactly like him, and yet people preferred him of the two.
He looked away, fingers tightening as the thought gripped him. His jaw tightened itself, resentment forming on his throat. Best not to stay too approachable, that was over now.
White horse?
What did that even refer to?
"So . . . d'ya think he meant a demon you were familiar with?" Lady commented, maintaining distance.
Vergil crossed his arms and thought on it seriously. There'd been many, many a beast he'd torn down.
"It's possible."
His mind just couldn't conjure up any image, neither literal nor figurative.
She crossed her arms as well. That was a good reason for him to stop.
He felt this feeling of bitterness come over him, rising closer to the skin.
This perennial aggravation ate at him, replacing growth with smoldering decay.
What was so fundamentally unlikable about him? Even before he was taken to hell, before he was subjected to a thirst for power, before any alterations occurred; he was unwanted.
He supposed that was why he always had respect for his own mother.
"Huh . . ." She mused, "I don't know then."
A mother . . . Patty was getting antsy, she didn't know the truth of the matter. Perhaps . . .
"You- You should come back with me." He said under his breath, "Patty would be happy to see you."
Lady avoided his eyes, staring away at the well she'd sought for protection. She thought about it, that child's eyes recalling an adorable innocence.
Still, she didn't know for how long she'd want to be around. But she saw him; the devil cried. It meant he had some good in his heart at least, not to mention that little girl loves him.
Unchained hues of cerulean dotted the sky, flickering stars guided her sight to a shooting comet that ran across the dark sky. She felt the stars reminded her of fireflies.
He did save her. Maybe it was time to believe in him.
Still this wouldn't be easy at all to deal with, the fresh pain of realizing Dante had left.
He'd never return, and she had so much left to say. Clenching her right hand tight. . .
"I'll be there." She mumbled. For her to go there of her own volition was what must be done. Their faces' continually soaked, the rain falling eternal.
His face remained stoic, he knew it would still be a little while longer before she'd come around.
Distractions abroad in the city, two men meet where no man roams.
A lone figure shined, his might unmatched by any other rose. The stench of a city's waste rose high no matter where he went.
Sparda fought for this, laid his life down to protect people, people who would so destroy their homes for the sake of comfort.
Nowhere was where he was, nowhere was where he always ended up going, no matter how hard he tried or how hard he fought, the end result was more nowhere.
His open hands felt the breeze of a storm sweeping in, a small tropical affair.
In the city of disarray, the slayer's blood was everywhere, no grovel he hadn't bled in, no edifice he hadn't filled with physical pain.
That was what he smelled, that was what led him here. The smell of a reckless young soul, grown steadily overtime.
This man was a charm to be sure. He had the right twinkle in his eyes and a voice more warm than sunlight on amber. People usually liked that - smiling back and enjoying an exchange of words.
He bore that air of power, of total confidence. They would back away; he's so otherworldly. He could tell them up was down and they'd follow him just to hear more of his strange, enchanting words.
There's something in the way he would look at them too, doing so much more than merely taking in their form, his cold and calculating eyes a galvanizing force.
In that way his own face started to look almost like a mask, controlled with the purpose of issuing a particular effect. He was sitting on a balcony's edge, giving himself a good, high vantage point.
He could see the city so clearly, for miles and miles. Biding his time for now . . . The next move was his to make.
His appearance made him easily spotted, even up there in the darkness.
His coat was pure white, trimmed slightly gold, beholden to a gray undershirt and slacks. White and gold boots carried his feet.
Silver hairs spiked up above tan skin. A nose sharp and angular rested on that concrete face, sculpted like a stone statue come to life.
"Baul!" He heard someone call to him. He didn't bother looking back.
"Mmm . . . You." He grumbled.
Modeus stopped a feet away from him, taking his breath after a marathon search, "Have you sensed it all, the wo-?"
His kin immediately stopped him, correcting the terminology
"Sparda's guard. Yes . . . I've been tracking them down. No matter what I do, what I change, they won't bow to my will. You would've imagined Sparda's pupil as worthy."
"Wait, hold on?" Modeus froze in time for a moment, surprised by his words, "A-Are you saying . . . You are the one who unleashed them?"
A sense of betrayal hid beneath his calm voice.
A smirk grew on Baul's face. With a chuckle he answered, "You've no clue, do you?"
He faced his brother, a sense of mockery in his speech.
The sibling in black widened his eyes.
"If you really are like our old master, then you must be thinking about what should be done. You know his son must die."
The usually-calmer of the two displayed a change of faces, his teeth grinding themselves together as anger took hold. At least, even to the people who knew him well, he was almost emotionless.
Yes, this anger was reserved for his brother, whose actions he couldn't at all defend. There wasn't any sympathy, no feeling of sentimental understanding towards him. This was flat out betrayal.
"I will never allow you near him. Sparda's child is more important than you could imagine. I won't ever stand for your moronic ambition, not at the cost of so many. You're dreaming."
With a quick motion, he clasped a sword from a void, a thick red claymore revealed. Modeus pointed it directly at Baul's head, warning his sibling he wouldn't ever stop defying him.
The demon in white crossed his arms, keeping his back turned.
"I've no desire to fight someone who abandoned the way of the sword. You can't stop me, not as you are today. I will find Vergil and I will kill him."
Modeus almost gasped, lowering his sword slightly, "How did you-. . ."
He alone knew the slayer's true identity, barring a few others in the circle of trust. He chose to keep it secret for the safety of all humans.
Dante's victories shined like a lighthouse to the demons, warding off hostile spirits from preying on the innocent. This fate wasn't natural.
Had Baul been watching them? Stalking them? Why hadn't he attacked them already?
"What have you done?" He asked, distraught.
The juggernaut twitched his hand and bent time and space as he turned to confront his charcoal brother head on. Another instant later, he stood right before Modeus.
He had phased across territories somehow, batting his twin's flame brand off to the side, reaching out a hand and touching his forehead.
The brother in black stopped instantly, frozen with a simple touch. Chilled to the bone, he felt his brother's nowhere, that feeling of empty wandering.
His eyes looked off into the far distance, shackled right there, and when Baul let him go and he fell on his knees, the man sensed his eyes return their logical sight to him.
He gazed at the dirty ground, panting.
"No . . ." He whispered.
Baul shook his head in disappointment.
"Venit porro mea fide equus." He yelled, his voice echoing out through the cold blackness.
A white light appeared before them, and from within it, a white horse with an ungodly beauty appeared.
"Come and find me when you're ready to do what's necessary." Baul told him one last time before he rode the horse through the light which it appeared from and vanished.
To Be Continued
...
Thank you for reading everyone, I hope you had a fun ride with this one.
Thank you guest. It is what I intend to do with the two, and I hope I can do it well.
So I think this bit of change is better :) helps develop the two more naturally. I still believe the previous version is fine, but this is more consisting with what was established in that chapter: carry on, more in character. . . it does work better this way.
What do you guys think about this?
Stay tuned for more. :)
Sorry Julia, thanks for the encouragement.
Beta Reader Here: Hey, sorry about the original version. It hadn't occurred to me that it was a bit too soon for them to be like that, I'm feeling rather lonely myself.
So, the interaction was driven by my own desire to feel needed by someone else, physically and emotionally. The bulk of my relationships with women have ended rather sadly.
I have no real energy to go back and correct my ellipses usage, I changed from including a space behind them to not. If you noticed this was wrong, consider it a harmless style choice.
Anyway, there's not really anything more for me to say, I was just having a shitty time of it and so my desire to feel better overwrote my writer's instinct. Sorry.
I hope what I did go with wasn't also inappropriate for Vergil, I feel it's in character and I don't really want to have to go back and revise this again. Today was all the time I had left.
Song inspirations were 'Remember Tomorrow' by Iron Maiden, 'Sweet Leaf' by Black Sabbath, 'Black Serenade' by Slayer, 'Sky's The Limit (Amended Version)' by Notorious B.I.G.,
and finally 'Just Say No To Love (feat. Peter Steele)' by Tony Iommi.
That's about it, nothing further.