Merry Christmas everyone and happy new year.
Chapter 22 ~ Shell Shock
Vergil awoke from his bionic slumber, his mind returning once more to this frail construct he inhabited. His human form lay on its side, motionless.
A shiver washed over his spine and he found himself disturbed at the chill suspended in the air. The flames of Jester fled, replaced with a black frost.
Mechanisms inside this vessel seemed to be broken, ones beyond mere structural defects or composition.
The mere act of moving was a trial for world peace, ceasing all intelligent thought for the want of a motion.
As his entire being pulsed torture, he forced his head up to see the cloudless night sky. Laying there, he rolled to his back to ease the strain on his neck.
Now the sky faced him dead on, echoing in his head hollow refrains to a vacant stare. He tried to remember what happened . . . how did he end up sleeping here?
Sound faded in like an old vinyl record, melting warmth into his eardrums. The sounds of civilization battled for his attention. In the street.
It was an alley like most others, stretching on and on for an unreasonable distance between city blocks. Littered with trash, it was the perfect spot for a breakdown.
"What . . . happened?" He asked to no one.
Manah wasn't anywhere to be seen, neither Lady nor Patty, Lucia, and Anthony. Had he fallen somewhere? He knew it was all real, his own eyes he could trust.
He recalled leaving Lady behind and heading off toward the shrine. He didn't know why, he just knew somehow his answers would be found there, waiting for him but then . . . ?
"Oh, okay . . ." He spoke to himself.
He felt breathless somehow despite no outward movement, "This is nothing."
Vergil fell onto the brick wall, propping himself up against it. His right leg was throbbing horribly for some reason.
He could feel his head going fuzzy, strange non-thoughts replacing what should have been recollections of time.
Consciousness was fading again, his vision starting to blur, the numbing frost within his head spreading out on a lake.
Losing balance now, he felt like a leaf lost in the wind, pulled by forces he was no longer strong enough to fight.
What is this? What's going on?
It was as if the world was spinning around him, whirling faster and faster until his head ached rapturous stab wounds.
Vergil's head slammed back down to the ground. He could hear his heart beating slowly, sweat pouring from his face to his hands.
Slowly lifting up his left hand, he felt a sharp pain the moment he raised it. Both his leftward limbs felt like they were bruised.
He wanted to call someone, but who would be there?
No one, for not any one person cared. It must be his punishment to endure this alone.
Subsequent to his passing by, his mind drifted for eons, wondering where he'd gone and why. Tantamount were the answers to both questions.
He couldn't get the fog to clear, there wasn't anything for him to see when he tried to remember. Why? Something wasn't letting him see.
After what felt like years worth of sleep, he could hear the sound of someone crying in the distance.
He tried to reach it, but there wasn't any use. It felt like his own body was restrained by heavy weights, bound by iron chains.
Shackled was his situation; shop-bound was his prerogative. He wondered where Manah had headed after that.
Nothing good could arrive from his 'exploration.'
He heard a voice mumble something, a phrase.
W-. . . -e up!
A set of words he was unable to hear. One moment later, he felt cold hands touch his cheeks.
"Please, wake up!" He heard a voice plea for him to answer.
That voice . . .
Agonizingly slow, he was able to open his eyes, fluttering them open till they stayed ajar. Still, he couldn't see anything, just a mad confusion of colors.
"Can you hear me? Come on, breathe!" The voice pleaded for him again.
He realized who it was talking to him, that innocent lilt, those bright eyes and that insistent purity. Patty. Why was she in the street?
The man stared at Patty's eyes, wondering where all that happiness went. Her face was red and puffy. There was a time she was happy to see him.
Masses of unfocused color filtered themselves until he could see a fuzzy image, the image of his friend, this little girl who wouldn't leave him alone.
The girl jumped in his arms, holding back her urge to laugh.
"Don't do that!" She said.
"Oh . . . hey," He was able to muster the patience to speak, "Why are you here, Pam?"
"Patty." She said flatly.
"Patty." He corrected.
He had this horrible growl in his stomach, like he hadn't eating anything for a thousand years.
The two of them sat on the side walk. Now he found himself nearby his office, but he couldn't remember getting there.
Patty pulled away to look at him, still confused. She seemed dreadfully worried but glad for some reason. Glad he was alive, he supposed.
"We heard a commotion outside and when we opened the door you were collapsed here." She answered, "For a second, I thought you were dead! I would've cried if you'd taken longer to wake up."
Vergil silently watched her, still feeling disoriented, the strain of having to process so much at one time wasn't at all easy.
He wasn't exactly sure what was 'what' anymore. Had he been dreaming? Of course not, that pain was too sharp to be felt in a dream.
Besides, lately his dreams had been vacant, filled without any human thought or seeming connection to reality.
It was like he was getting random flashes of another world, these glaring, shaky depictions of a black void. He felt normal when he woke, but that oddity always crept up his spine before sleep.
"Didn't I leave the office with Manah?" He asked her.
Her face danced confusion in a wince, "Ah . . . Yeah, but he came back before you did, said something about exploring he needed to do quickly. He'll be back, he only left a minute ago."
Patty touched his forehead, "Are you feeling alright?"
The devil heaved a long shudder, warming up as his frozen bones took their time thawing.
In all the years of his life, this period was certainly the most bizarre. He wondered what could have driven Arkham back to the realm of the living so fervently.
Ever since he'd come back, there'd been these odd moments for him, moments where he felt off somehow. Inside, the balance had shifted.
"I don't know," He answered her finally, "I'm exhausted. Do we have any food? I'm ravenous."
He pulled himself up, his legs still quaking ever so softly, but he was able to stand on his own.
Oh the ridiculousness, he was once a mighty general in hell, commanding legions of vile creatures, now he was reduced to being unsure if he was able to walk.
Patty, this small child becoming his crutch, what a laughable concept. He needed no one else's help before, why had he become reliant on it now?
No, no, this is Patty, that little girl he'd chosen to protect, he'd gladly accept her help . . . Where was his head at?
The child held his hand and walked with him to the shop front, saying, "Take it easy, you don't want to collapse again do you?"
The man glared at her. Maybe she was more of a brat than he noticed.
Once they entered, Tony welcomed them with a piping espresso, "Oh, well, look who it is?" He said and gave him the mug, "How'd it go? Slay any monsters?"
"Only a few mangy dogs." He replied.
"Tony, I found Dante on the street just now."
"Wait, what?" He said, "Are ya all right?"
Vergil wanted to scream at him, the man has let Patty out of his site. Irresponsible.
Vergil was no human himself, the differences between cultures were astounding when he really thought about it.
Tony was always oblivious.
The slayer knew he needed to understand what had gone wrong, and quickly. He should have been all back to normal by now, what were these things he was suffering from?
Until now, he'd written them off, chalking up to the perils of demonic slavery. No, this was deeper, as if his human side had become so shellshocked that no part of his whole could truly function.
He could see Lucia still laid there, unresponsive to any method or call. So much guilt weighed on him for that.
Was he going to end up like her? No, it couldn't be, their situations were perfectly opposite of one another. He was fine physically as far as he knew.
She had been mauled by Jester's wolves, the command of his own father's legions stolen by some amateur comic. What a cosmic joke.
The man laid down on his couch and took a stolid breath, "Tonya, go bring food from the nearby restaurant . . . now."
"Tony." He said.
"Just grab some food!" The slayer barked through gritted teeth.
The man rolled his eyes, "Fine, I'll grab some Chinese."
Vergil winced, the Chinese restaurant was a higher-class eatery than normal. Money wasn't exactly something he could spare.
Sure, he had enough funds to keep the doors open now, but the cost of living day-to-day was a grind no man could afford for too long.
"How much money do I have?" The Cambion groaned.
"Don't worry, we got enough for a nice meal." The man grumbled back.
'We.' Vergil thought, 'Cute.'
Patty took a seat beside him, twiddling her fingers through her golden locks, "I want shrimp tempura."
"Good taste," Vergil commented, "Get some mu shu pork and some lo mein while you're there."
"Okay, you want fries with that?" Tony replied.
Before the devil could get out one word, Patty spoke for him, "Fried chicken dumplings!"
There was such passion behind those words, those cherubic cheeks and that bright smile. Both men couldn't dare themselves to say no.
Tony knew what he wanted himself as well, egg foo young, egg rolls and some fried rice, maybe an order of Mongolian beef on the side too.
Oh what a feast. It'd probably cost over a hundred bucks easily, not that it wasn't anything 'Dante' couldn't afford.
Besides, Tony was good with money, even just a little of it. If they needed more he could whip up an investment with promise.
The man started walking out of the place, saying the to small girl, "You do got good taste, girl. Damn, alright, I'll be back."
The man stepped outside with a smile, the air feeling nice for a change. He walked on down the street.
Inside Devil May Cry, the remaining two sat in a complete silence. The slayer himself felt disturbed by what had been on his mind, the torture he seemed to be forced through.
"Are you sick Dante?" Patty asked, "Ya look pale, more than usual."
The man looked at her, wondering what made her even ask.
"Um, no, not that I'm aware of. I think I probably just need more rest if you're talking about the circles under my eyes. Those always make me look more pale than I am."
The very instant he finished that sentence, he felt the clawing dizziness, the jagged cold in his forehead pulling at his mind.
He closed his eyes for a small moment, laying his head back on the couch. Still, the pressure wouldn't release, pounding at his temples over and over.
"Maybe you should go to the urgent care," Patty said, "They could give you something for that, there's a hospital nearby."
Vergil seemed to be bothered by this suggestion.
"Hospitals can't help me," He muttered, "I'll be fine, I have dealt with worse than this."
"But Dante?" Patty insisted, "You've got to take care of yourself."
The crimson hunter stared at her, his eyes wide, almost outraged.
He stood from the couch and paced to the door.
Something seemed to be bothering him, like there were pieces of glass under his skin.
"I'll be fine." He repeated.
"Come on!" She yelled, "You owe it to yourself! Don't be stupid!"
"I said I will be fine, all right!? Be quiet, you rotten little child." He shouted.
The grit in his voice scared her, the pure malice of it astounding. It wasn't necessary, she was just looking out for him.
His fists were tightened, the look in his eyes was like a feral animal, looking bloodshot and the pupils like slits of a tiger.
Her expression changed and she looked away from him.
The slayer hadn't realized what happened till he heard her sniffle, the tears falling off her cheeks hitting the black leather cushions.
Each one sounded like the stomps of a monstrous animal, crashing in his ears to the absence of all other sounds. His harsh expression softened, the eyes returning to his humanity.
Did he really just yell at her? Those words . . . those words felt twisted, like someone else had fed him a script and his mind just printed the results out.
His chest plunged, a sense of shame drowning his hellbound heart.
"I-. . . I'm sorry, I don't feel like myself tonight." He tried to touch her shoulder, but she pushed his hand away.
"I'll just go to bed, I'm sleepy." She whispered.
He stood there, feeling an ocean gouging its way between them, her light sailing away from him like a helpless ship at sea.
He'd made a mistake, a very, very big mistake. As she left the couch, Patty stopped and turned to the desk, as if to check the front door for Tony. it was almost a silent plea, hoping he'd come back.
In the reflection of the front door's small windows, a lancing ray of cyan light shot vertically into the office, splitting off into a clump of five separate beams.
From five deep shafts, grouped in an irregular pentagon, light shined through the office doors, almost burning through until it burst. A mass plume of bright blue light surged in, blasting down everything.
An instant later, the blinding flash squelched like sheet-lightning, and a giant ball of varicolored fire seared Vergil's back, leaving a series of smoke-rings floating slowly behind its wake.
Patty screamed as she was thrown back behind the desk. It felt like someone swung a hammer at her chest.
The slayer pulled himself together, managing to prevent a total collapse as he bore the brunt of the blast.
Glaring behind him, the man saw a figure emerge through the smoke.
"So, you are Sparda's remaining son?" A deep voice spoke to him. Once the smoke faded, he saw the whitest horse he had ever seen.
It's mane was born of greek fire, the steely look of its face signifying it was a nightmare.
The nightmare was a demonic steed few could ride, even he was unable to possess one.
Of course, under the touch of Mundus, he was probably too corrupt to ride one effectively.
Atop the steed rode a man clad in matching white. He turned to face him.
"So what if I am?" He spat the words, his arms slung forward and his back torn to shreds, "Who's asking? You dare to attack me in my own house of business; you deserve a few extra gashes for that."
His threat was answered with a rough charge to the chest from the ivory steed, it's stone crown jamming him into the dark wall with a thud.
All the air in his lungs automatically drained, forced out by the power of both impacts. He looked on, crushed and broken, blood dripping down from his left temple.
"Be quiet." The intruder said, and his eyes turned to Patty, "You. You're coming with me."
Patty bared her teeth, backing away slowly, "N-no! I'm not going anywhere with you."
Slowly the horrific situation settled with her, she was targeted again. A conjuring of black magic brought forth this horrible dream, she was sure.
Even though this supposedly was over. Another promise broken, another victim made. Torn from the devil's grasp, the little girl was left to the ghostly man.
Blood filled the slayer's mouth.
"You're a coward," He said, spitting out a gob, "Choosing to show up here when I'm weakened." Vergil said as he writhed around on the floor.
In a warp of green, the intruder remerged standing over the man.
Baul grasped the wooden structure behind the hunter in red and brought it down.
The bookshelf slammed over the man's bloodied face, crushing his arms like jelly.
"What's the matter?" The man said, "It's only a bookcase."
The silver devil killer groaned under the weight of the wood, the man in white's foot stomping the thing down harsher.
How disappointing, the son of Sparda smashed by paltry books and wood shrapnel; was this really how he might've imagined defeat?
"Patty," The 'diablo-blanco' spoke in a spine-shuddering timbre, "Come with me or he dies right here, right now."
Vergil felt to scream, the bitter taste of defeat spurning a rage that said 'it's not over.' Fist's clenched themselves, teeth ground together, and his eyes shined red.
Pushing his broken arms up, he forced all the bitter weight off himself, ignoring every suffering moment as his arms reset themselves, ready to tear apart and murder.
Between the opposing forces, the object splintered apart and the devil's back came away from the ground independent of gravity.
Rising to his feet, the stained Cambion readjusted his body in spurts of abnormal movement, breaking bones back into place and refusing marrow.
Still, he couldn't understand what this man was after or who he was.
His eyes ran the gambit, starting icy blue, then turning red, then shimmering silver murder at Baul. His power felt muted, something was wrong inside.
"Don't listen to him, stay ba-"
The man in white grinned at the challenge and launched a boot into the slayer's chest. Vergil flew backwards, taken off his feet easily.
His back hit the horse, who reacted with a swivel and a back kick met his flesh. Multiple bones broke apart and he ricocheted back toward Baul.
With one movement, Vergil felt the side of his face collide with more chromatic flames, his attacker using some kind of dark arts to counter the velocity.
The slayer felt himself almost blown apart with the explosive decompression, gas expanding and contracting in a volatile mixture that sent him out through his own front doors.
One had remained after the initial blast, barely hanging on the hinge by one nail. The barrier came off as soon as he made contact, sailing over the black top alongside his body.
Crashing onto the blacktop, he rolled further several feet before coming to a brutish stop, hitting the base of a stop sign in the wide parking lot.
Hacking up a lung, he began to convulse as the strain almost overwhelmed him.
He hit himself in the chest, trying to restart his heart, it took two strikes and he got it.
Crawling forward, the crimson hunter forced himself to keep moving.
Black singe marks dotted his face, and his hair part had been singed off.
His clothes were ruined; to a total degree, they were absolutely mangled.
All that, and he was still moving. Baul was impressed, if also annoyed.
The stranger walked close to the man in red as he crawled forward, spitting out blood onto the black top. The man grumbled ancient swears.
White boots met the slayer's gaze. Looking up, that tan face looked positively evil, twisted by- what was it? Envy? Self-hatred? Greed?
The stranger stomped his foot down on Vergil's right hand, grinding in the heel to the knuckles. The slayer felt it crumble.
He gave a single shout, "Aah!" And then he glared up, face displaying psychotic rage.
"You disappoint me." Baul said, "I at least thought you'd make a decent challenge. I don't know what my brother saw in you."
He grasped Vergil by the neck and lifted him up. He pulled a blade from nowhere, a magnificent sword that somehow resembled Dante's.
He held it back so that the tip rested at the slayer's throat. Curious, was it death that Vergil feared? The man held his head back, eyes closed.
A small voice echoed out in the dark to the white devil.
"I'll go with you!" The voice said. Lowering the weapon, he turned to see the child. She continued pleading, "I'll go with you! Just- stop hurting him! I can't take it."
The man stood towards her, keeping the weakened mercenary held up off the ground.
"I can't take it if you hurt him. I can't take it." She said, small tears escaping her eyes. They splashed on the sidewalk, she cried, "Please stop hurting him."
Amusing. The demon looked back at the slayer and saw he wasn't even conscious anymore.
Looking back at the girl, he stared for a moment before casually tossing the man's body aside.
Vergil awoke as his back hit the side of a green dumpster.
"Very well, child. I will take you and spare him. For now." The man said, coming closer, broadsword still in hand. Placing an arm around her back, he hoisted her up to rest on his side.
Patty grabbed his shoulder, tearing up as the man re-mounted his steed, the demonic ride loyally waiting for it's master.
Vergil saw the young girl's sacrifice as the visitor prepared to depart. He forced himself to sit up, enduring weakness till he did so.
"Wait!" He called out, the man looking back in his direction, "Why do you want her?"
He shouted the question, bereft of knowing what reason this was occurring for. And he tried to stand again, trying so hard to just move.
Vergil was so powerful whenever he felt like it, why now was he so weak? Why now had his body chosen to fail him? It wasn't fair.
The man offered no response for him, staying silent as he glanced in his direction.
"No . . ." Patty cried, still rejecting her dilemma.
"Quiet." Baul kept her still on his horse, moving her in front of himself and holding the broadsword's bleeding edge before her, a warning, "Don't worry, but don't move."
He looked on intently, sorting out where he needed to go and where he would take this little thing.
"Let me go." She whimpered, sobbing.
Vergil pushed himself up, forcing his wounded body to cooperate. He pushed on, despite the snapping of his muscles, the tension of his tendons.
Standing up, he roared at them, but he was only in time to see it happen. The horse galloped forward and zoomed out of sight like a car, disappearing into a green rift.
It was so quick, he couldn't even comprehend it. The void opened up and swallowed the two, removing them from his parking lot in one instant.
Patty's sobs were gone.
Nothing but the crackling of the horse's flaming hoof marks remained.
"I-. . . I'll kill you for this . . . bastard." He grumbled, hawking blood between words.
Breathing heavily, he turned back to his office. One place rang in his mind; the weapon's cabinet.
He blinked his heavy eyes, clearing them, yet sight refused to mend itself.
Perennially, a fog covered his sclera, unmoving. So, he hadn't recovered from this.
He grabbed at his chest, his heart feeling torn open, bleeding from the inside. More ichor escaped his lips, he hacked up the copper liquid trapped in his lungs.
The world began to spin, the entirety of his head pounding with each pump of his heart. A mule-man appeared, shaggy and growling. Drool escaped its lungs.
'You rushed in to save a friend so thin, the white horse move with which you cannot win.'
Those words rang out, thick and deep from the Mule head's mouth. He turned to it, standing in the midst of his parking lot.
He felt damned, what kind of hallucination was this? Or was this also reality? The sheer size of it was twice that of Baul.
It was like a bear standing so tall, speaking to him ebony words as its human half, the torso, moved it's clawed fingers.
Pointing at him, it seemed to intimate some wicked curse, mocking the slayer's struggles.
Vergil coughed, anger burning inside his chest. A compressed inferno emerged from his right fist, and he plunged it forward.
A sparking meteor rushed out, setting the thing on fire. It stayed still, not seeming to mind as it's cloven hooves straightened.
Red eyes emerging through the flames, it just stared at him as it turned to ash, the eyes the last remaining thing to burn.
He thought on those words it had seemingly spoken though. Arkham, once again, had predicted all of this. How was that possible?
Something was missing, some part of the puzzle. If he could figure out what was lost, it would all fall into place, he could understand.
Then it clicked in his mind.
That man was more powerful than even Arkham, he is his master.
That's why he told Vergil this would happen.
They were in on it the whole damn time.
"You damn maggots!" He raged through closed teeth, "He's been watching me this entire time. Both of them."
He entered the office, searching haggard for the weapons cabinet, searching for his arsenal at all costs.
Finding the blade, he grabbed the Force Edge once more. It's handle immediately killed his pain, washing over him a calm ocean.
All the wounds on him closed. The weakness across him fled, his face's veins surging for a moment before returning to normal.
Normal . . .
What constituted 'normal' anymore?
He returned downstairs, feeling that his hard work had been destroyed. This would put him back in debt again, or at the very least set him back financially, using Tony's mad money.
A moment later, another visitor joined him; Modeus. He was bewildered to the state of the shop, stepping inside cautiously over broken wood and shattered glass.
Lucia laid on the couch almost out of harm's way, left untouched. The rest of the office had been wrecked somehow. His face displayed his shock and worry so plainly it was like the nose on his face.
Vergil glared at him, gripping his father's blade as if it were the living end. His pale face had unexpected color in it, Modeus knew something was wrong, and he knew who caused it.
Straightening up, the man in black spoke with a sad, knowing sound, "Baul was here, wasn't he?"
"Baul?" Vergil replied calmly, "Yes, I suppose that was his name."
They walked around, Modeus inspecting the damage as Vergil slowly came closer.
"I liked the way you made this place look. It reminded me of Sparda's home."
Vergil grasped Modeus by the collar, pulling him close to yell in his face with those feral eyes, "Tell me. Who is he? Who is your brother and where did he go?"
The man just looked at him, depressed and defeated by guilt.
Another failure on the belt, another broken promise to his mentor.
Modeus' face was filled with sorrow. He was so afraid something like this would happen, but . . .
He didn't know, but maybe he could still help.
It was recent, therefore it wasn't too late.
The man could tell from Vergil's voice that something precious had been stolen from him. He wondered what had been taken, something so vital to make him this angry again.
"You can't choose family," He gently pushed Vergil's hand off and looked down at the ground, "I caught him a little while ago but he-. . . I couldn't stop him."
After a moment, the crackling flames in the background vanished, leaving only silence to loom over them.
Vergil's eyes were shadowed under his regrown hair. So, another pair of misfit siblings . . .
"I don't care if he's your kin, that wretched lowlife took Patty." His voice almost cracked, "I'm going to make him pay, no matter what it takes."
Modeus held up his hand, trying to think of a way to stop this, what he knew would be coming next.
"Please, Vergil, remain calm." He pleaded, emotional, "Baul wouldn't ever kill a child. We need to think this through." He paused for a moment, "We can save her, together."
Kill . . . A word he couldn't bear to hear with the mention of Patty in the same sentence.
This is someone's fault, he just couldn't tell who's it was yet. She was taken on account of knowing him.
So, maybe it was just Vergil's own fault, he certainly felt that way.
His mind flashed back into his most disliked memory. The sickening sounds Dante made while he was holding him close.
The brother's bruised, trembling body not finding any comfort in his touch.
Vergil returned his mind to the present with an enraged grunt, fingers constricting together into fists as he placed Force Edge his back.
The blade seemed to magnetically stay there, attached to him without a sling, as if it remembered who he was, that he was its old master's son.
There's loyalty in that old magic after all.
"No, I'm going out now to find them myself." He snarled at the man. Modeus tried to say something, but the slayer didn't want to hear it, "Don't even try. You know you'd lose. I'm going on my own."
Loss seemed to be a primary theme running through Vergil's life. His mother, Helena, Dante . . . And now Patty.
'No more. No more! I won't lose another soul, not now, not ever again.' Vergil thought to himself.
He walked out of the torn up office, striding down the cracked steps. Manah was arriving back, the demon smirking.
The Devil nodded at him as Vergil approached, the rage in his eyes a smoldering flame that needed to be released.
"Are you that anxious to reunite with me, boy?" Manah sighed, "I leave for one minute and you do this to yourself."
Manah saw the shop.
"What-" His words stumbled, "Who did this? What did you do to the shop!?"
"You . . ." Vergil growled like a black dog, staring at Manah, "Let's have a chat."
His demonic voice took over, and he dove for the beast's throat. Manah put a hand out in front of the man's chest, forcing the slayer back a few feet.
They locked eyes, and for a moment, it seemed as though the two were bound to go to war, but the abduction took precedence. Vergil backed down.
"Before anyone tears each other's throat out, what happened?" Manah said.
Vergil squeezed the devil's arm and outright screamed, "We're tracking down another person tonight, whether you like it or not!"
Manah knew enough of his recent business associate to know something very wrong had happened just before he arrived.
He'd not seen the man so distraught before, so untamed. His breath smelled of smoke and other charred, dead things.
"I need more information." Manah's reply was sardonic at best, "Don't you want to know what I found out?"
Vergil showed his bear-shaped teeth and his eyes glowed red, "There's no time to talk about your silly accomplishments, fool. You need to track down Modeus's brother."
"'Silly accomplishments!?'" Manah was surprised by his argument.
Modeus walked out, intent to leave with them no matter what. He promised to never allow Baul to come near Vergil.
The only way to keep this promise was to find that girl and put a stop to whatever was afoot. It didn't make sense.
Baul had promised to kill Vergil, not Patty. He never kills children, he was sure of that . . . But their interaction before infected him with doubts.
His brother had been changed by something. Why? He knew not 'why.'
"P-Please . . . I'll go with you. Let me make this right," Modeus said, fully determined, "I will stop him."
No turning back now, they were all going, except for Tony, whenever he'd get back with food. Vergil would eat that later.
"Boy, what happened here? What happened to your establishment? I rather liked the way it looked." The old devil mused.
Vergil ignored him.
Manah grumbled.
"Fine . . . Sir, what happened?"
"Baul came here. He thrashed me around, destroyed the shop and took Patty away from me." Vergil's voice was low, but it was loud enough.
"Well, shit!" Manah replied.
"I-I'm sorry," Modeus spoke up, pleading his case, "I had no idea, I assumed this place was safe!"
Vergil glared at him, "I did too."
Silence fell as Manah summed up the damages.
"We can't do business on the street very well, can we? Let's take care of this before we go." The demon said as he waved his right hand at his side.
They all heard a strange sound, a loud ram of items, as if something else had crashed to the floor.
Vergil stared back behind him, and, along with Modeus, saw that somehow the shop had fixed itself.
It was as if the fight had never happened, erased from history.
"There. That was a freebie." The horned devil said to Vergil.
He couldn't deny it, he was glad that the old man had fixed his shop. Money saved: black magic put to good use.
Manah also quickly made note of Vergil's clothing. It had been ruined. That was no good, he wouldn't resign himself to working with a bum.
A simple snap of the fingers took care of that. The slayer looked back at himself and felt the repaired cloth. It was real.
Staring back at Manah, his look changed.
Maybe this old coot wasn't so bad.
"You're welcome." The devil said, "I'm a fan of aesthetics."
Vergil grumbled and pushed past him, warning off his aide to come along with him or taste his own blood.
Manah complied. The dark slayer was a deadly mass, sweeping out a final darkness over the land. He knew it, he was the ruler of this midnight air.
The old prince could feel the creeping arrogance of his young partner. It tainted everything they were trying to do. The ego of youth was phenomenal.
"I don't care if you follow me, but don't get in my way." He said to Modeus, "He's taken my g- He's taken Patty. He deserves every bit of pain coming."
The man stayed silent, staring at his ally with another sad look. He hated that things had come to this.
With that, Vergil phased away, blurring through the air after the object of his obsession.
Manah moved after him, accompanying Sparda's son on this gloomy quest. It was likely going to be the most difficult challenge he'd yet faced, but no one was complaining.
Modeus watched for a moment, unsure if he should have joined. Was it he who brought this on them? Another pair of brothers related to Sparda; fate works in a pattern.
Whatever it may be, Vergil needed guidance, a source of hope. Modeus couldn't let this become another failure, he wouldn't sit by and let senseless death overcome them again.
So too did the man in black join the Cambion and the Devil on their mission, leaping for the next rooftop after them.
Manah was talented at tracking, he could catch any smell among the others, but something strange was going on with this scent requested of him.
It felt like the demon was inside the city but not really inside of it at the same time. The devil stopped after a brief moment of their race. Vergil sensed this and so too ceased running.
Landing on an adjacent rooftop, they spoke with one another.
"I can't fully track him."
"What? Why?" Vergil replied.
"It's like something is blotting him out from me. I don't know where we'll find him." He commented, feeling defeated almost.
Vergil rubbed his forehead, terminally exasperated by this evening. They acted like this was something normal, as though it didn't require urgency.
The halfbreed's temper flared again, his body exuding a swell of black matter into an aura. His eyes narrowed on Manah, looking like a primal animal.
"Shut the hell up, you useless worm, and lead the way. If you can't, I will go alone." The slayer barked.
Manah frowned at him, a surge of red electricity surrounding his black business coat, "You just pushed the boundaries, you disrespectful swine."
War was on the horizon, both staring the other down, ready to kill. They knew they shouldn't, there were bigger things at stake.
Modeus closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. What did his brother start? Oh lord, what he wouldn't give to undo this mess.
This whole month was nothing but bad.
Vergil wanted to punch that goatish face so bad, it reminded him of the mule he'd seen. There was no time to waste on this . . . They could fight about this later.
Right now, Patty took his attention. He simply left the two behind, jumping down and running through the streets, not really caring about the people walking who stared.
'Hang on. I'll be there.' He thought.
The others followed behind, trying their best to catch the scent.
"You know something, don't you Manah?" Modeus asked him.
"I beg your pardon?" The demon spat as the trio continued dashing their way through the city.
Vergil could sense something, but he didn't know what. At this point, he was running blind. How did Baul find them that fast?
More importantly, why now had he chosen to attack? Every time a new threat emerges, more questions get in his way.
Eventually, the three stopped at the top of a building, where they reached the town's square. Not many people were around, the recent attacks had made folks . . .
Exceptionally skittish.
Touching down on the edge, Vergil overlooked everything.
"What do we know?" Modeus made the mistake of asking.
"Your brother has Arkham working for him, care to explain that for me? How did he even bring him back? He's been dead for years." Vergil spoke coldly.
"What are you talking about? Who is 'Arkham?'" Modeus replied, "I assure you . . . We were far away, we didn't come to this city until two years ago."
Vergil's patience was severely running out, "Look, Arkham predicted a white horse taking Patty from me just a couple of hours ago, it means-"
"There's a connection." Manah grimly finished that sentence, "He must be the one organizing the wolves and their movements."
Vergil was unexpectedly satisfied with Manah's interruption.
He put it directly and succinctly.
"Stop hiding the truth from me." The slayer said to the man in black.
Once Modeus realized what'd just been said, his shoulders sagged, will he believe him if he said what he knew?
Probably not, but the result of what would happen if he chose to hold his peace would be far worse for all parties involved.
Staring at them, the man in black slowly came to tell the truth.
"He unleashed the wolves so he could command them . . ." The man said it low and dejected, "He wants to be the next Sparda."
The statements hit Vergil like a freight train, he hadn't expected Modeus to actually know anything.
Lowly, the man continued,
"My brother didn't associate with both worlds, but I don't know what's changed. Why did he kidnap miss Lowell . . . ?" His voice was barely audible, as if to hide his shame.
Somehow, this moment reminded Vergil of himself and Dante, it was hard to describe the feeling.
Were they like this in the eyes of other people? Still, the two of them were different, they had their own issues to struggle with.
Life was a hard deal, always. He wondered what it would've been like to have been an observer rather than the participant.
Lady knew.
"So, even you don't know why." Vergil said, his anger beginning to fade.
. . . Time passed and the unholy three continued their ruthless search; no stone unturned . . .
"Damn, trial and error is a real pain in my ass." Manah said, trudging onward through the outskirts of the city.
They'd gone in concentric layers, searching every possible site, visiting every damned piece of holy ground.
Still, they found no trace of that monster.
The slayer flew across the sky, having punched the ground out of frustration. The explosion was enough to send him rocketing, though it didn't hurt. He was one with the weapon.
How many ogreish affairs must they endure before the universe cut them a break? Through and through, this entire cursed world seemed to cosmically conspire against them.
Vergil's body at least felt normal again. There must have been some flaw created, he thought to himself. Something went wrong when he was freed, his body still hadn't recovered somehow.
Whatever it was, he'd find a way to fix it. Just as soon as they found this mewling quim.
He thought back to the riddle he'd heard, the rest of it. How did it go again? He'd meet his doom among the bones?
No that's not right.
From the beginning: 'You rushed in to save a friend so thin, the white horse move with which you cannot win . . .'
How'd the rest go?
'You rushed in . . . White horse . . .' What next!?
Grave you'll find? No.
Gloomy doom you'll find among the headstones? Hedging doom he'd find among the white horse! Clue to doom you'll find inside the bone marrow! Damn it, no.
Chewing the doom inside the headstones . . . Dooming the bones to meet upon the throne . . . Finding the clue to be among the headstones' bones . . .
A clue to find among the headstones . . . Three bones to find a clue against the headstones . . . A clue you'll find upon the doomed headstone . . . A clue you'll find . . .
A clue you will find among the bones . . . then meet your doom upon the headstones!
That's it! Vergil landed against a tree trunk on his feet, so he pushed off, forcing himself back towards the other two.
Sliding across the rural grass, he called out to the others who soon joined him. It might've been a breakthrough, it might've been utterly worthless.
"I have something!" He yelled.
"What? What is it?" Manah demanded to know.
"The second part of Arkham's riddle: 'A clue you'll find among the bones, then meet your doom upon the headstones.' I think it's telling us where to go." The slayer said.
Both thought it over, wondering what location it could mean.
"Well, it obviously refers to a cemetery, but which one?" Manah said.
Modeus thought about it, a cemetery . . .
"Yes, of course you would . . . The Lincoln Cathedral." The man said, the epiphany on time.
"'The Lincoln Cathedral?' Where's that?" Vergil asked.
"It's on the other side of town, near the old church that closed years ago. Kid's use it for black magic and rituals now." The Satyr-devil replied.
Vergil knew that place. He'd fought Trish there inside that church. He left it more of a wreck than it had ever been before.
This 'cathedral' couldn't be too far, he wondered where it might have been in respect to that fight, that awful, awful place.
How amazing it was that close.
"How do you know he's there, what would bring him to that place?" Vergil said.
"It's where our mother is buried." The devil answered.
Silence overcame them.
To Be Continued
Thank you for reading everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
What do you guys think?
Beta Reader Note: There's a playlist for this series now, named directly after the story because otherwise it'd be confusing, wouldn't you agree?
Anyway, there's not much to report, this chapter sort of just came together, me and LxJ just played messenger/tag for a bit sending it back and forth.
She added, I revised, she added more, then I revised. Songs used were more of the same, but I just started listening to the 'Peace Sells' album by Megadeth again.
Haven't it in eons, but god damn I forgot how good it was. The title track and 'The Conjuring' in particular inspired this chapter, so I highly recommend checking that out.
I know there's a few Slayer songs in here too, 'Seven Faces' and a few more tracks from 'God Hates Us All.'
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, it was fun to work on. Merry Christmas everyone, and a happy new year.