A/N: My sincerest apologies, dear readers! (sorry Vergil, nicked your phrase, please don't hurt me) I unexpectedly went away for two days to good ol' Dorset. Yeeeah. Exciting (NOT). And then my big bro hijacked the computer from me and BROKE it. ARGH.
Anyway, I'll shut up now and let you continue reading! Enjoy!
Chapter 5
Drip.
Drip. Drip.
The first thing Dante became aware of was pain. Lots of it. A whole load of it. Yep, that was some pain. In fact, as far as he could remember, this was just about the most physical pain his body had felt in a while. Being half-demon, half-human, there was a limit to his healing ability. Of course, he had never bothered to discover just how far he could push himself before actually dying.
And didn't ever plan to, unfortunately for science.
He heard a deep, wheezy groaning noise, and realized it was coming from his own throat. Woah. Was the floor spinning or what? The ground was tipping violently from side to side, swaying in a sickening way which made his stomach turn. Plus, there was a fuzzy feeling in his head that was fogging up his brain, which was sort of like being drunk only less fun.
He shook his head and managed to raise his right arm in order to rub clumsily at his face. Ugh. His limbs felt like lead, and his entire body ached with a deep exhaustion he had not felt in years.
After gathering his scattered wits into what resembled consciousness (roughly), he managed to force his un-cooperative eyes opens. Oh man. There was a big pale white blur and a big dark blur around it. Uh huh. Right. Well this was just great. He blinked vigorously, and slowly his vision sharpened.
For a moment, he thought he was staring into a particularly distorted mirror. His own familiar features swam in and out of focus: same nose, same mouth, same face shape. Yup. Must be his reflection. Except…he didn't remember ever being that pale. And that hair was too long.
Then he realized that while his eyes were, quite obviously, open, his reflection was not looking back at him.
"Shit!" and suddenly, he was bolt upright and alert. He seized his twin by the shoulders, his hands ignoring his dignity, the only thought in his mind being that his brother was far too pale and possiblymaybedeadohGod "Vergil, wake up!"
Vergil's head lolled backwards limply, and for one nauseating moment Dante thought his brother wasn't breathing. But then he saw that his twin's eyes were stirring beneath their lids, and that he could hear the rough rattle of an intake of breath. At which point, all trace of concern vanished from Dante's disposition. Concern? What concern? Dante? For him? Dante concerned for Vergil? You're mistaken. That was quite blatantly selfish aggravation. Nothing more. Nope.
Once he had re-assured himself that his manly (completely fuzzy-fraternal-feelings lacking) pride was relatively unscathed, Dante set about tactfully bringing Vergil back to the waking world:
"Wake UP you lazy bastard!"
Well, he brought him back, anyway.
"Dammit, Vergil, this is no time for a freakin' nap!" he ground out through gritted teeth, shaking Vergil so hard he could have sworn he could hear his twin's bones rattle. He was just (rather gleefully) contemplating slapping Vergil awake when a hand shot out of nowhere and shoved him away, hard.
"Don't...touch me!" Vergil struggled upright, clutching his head "And stop…shouting." He blinked rapidly, glared at Dante, then looked about them "Where are we?"
Dante glanced upwards, squinting. They were deeply immersed in an odd sort of semi-darkness, where despite the fact no light source was visible, allowed them about five feet of vision. From what Dante could make out they were in a large circular- no, octagonal – chamber carved completely from stone. The stone was deep ebony black, and had a rough texture rather like granite. Eight enormous archways filled the entirety of the room's perimeter, separated by thin columns which appeared to be made up of an assortment of skulls.
Dante whistled softly, and the noise echoed back eight fold from beyond the archways "Hell if I know." He muttered, then smirked "Actually…it must just be that. Hell, I mean."
He chuckled to himself, but Vergil made no response. He was absorbed with studying their surroundings intently, his keen eyes narrowed, noting every detail. He had always done that, even as a small child, whenever confronted with something unfamiliar. Vergil was cautious and distrustful by nature. Dante supposed it was because his brother absolutely hated not being in control, and so the slightest infamiliarity made him feel threatened. It was sort of…animalistic. Instinctive. Demonic, even.
"Hey." Dante struck up, and Vergil shot him a sideways glance "You think we lucked out and somehow ended up getting away? There's nothin' about."
Had Vergil been less on his guard and more irritable, he would have responded with a snide remark, but instead just shook his head "I don't like this." He murmured, eying each archway with a narrowed gaze "Something doesn't feel right."
"No shit." Dante snorted, and right on cue his stomach growled "I haven't eaten a pizza for five hours."
For the sake of world peace, Vergil chose to ignore his brother's stupidity and focused on studying the room further. The fact that no matter where he turned his back was facing a doorway made him immeasurably uneasy. He could not see what lay beyond each archway – the darkness was too thick for that – so he risked inching closer to one of the skull columns.
"Would you stop being so jittery? You're making me feel paranoid just looking at you."
Closer now, he could see that the skulls seemed to be from a variety of different creatures. Some human, some horribly disfigured, one that looked like a goat with a horn. Some kind of unnatural congealed liquid oozed in the crevices. A foul smell was beginning to fill the room, an acrid smell like sulphur. Vergil reached out to touch the column.
"Oooh, naughty naughty, Vergy-boy! Didn't your dear Mother ever teach you lookie but no touchie?"
A jubilantly gleeful voice cut through the quiet like a bullet. Vergil snatched his hand back as though it had been stung, and whirled around to see Dante on his feet, tense and thoroughly pissed.
"C'mon, show your ugly mug you cowardly bastard!" Dante yelled at the blackness, to howls of raucous laughter. Dante seethed and muttered under his breath, while Vergil frantically scanned the darkness for the rogue Jester.
"What is this place? Where are we?" he demanded of the archway opposite him, where he thought Jester's voice had come from.
"Now, now, now, my little Sparda ratlings! If I told you that it would spoil all the fun."
Vergil searched every inch of space, but could find no trace of Arkham. His disembodied voice seemed to be coming from all around them, fluctuating in and out of hearing range like some kind of broken record. Dante, incensed that he couldn't see Arkham (and therefore couldn't violently maul him like he so desperately wanted to) slammed his fist into a nearby pillar.
"Quit screwing AROUND!" he roared, and Vergil sighed quietly as the Jester's derisive laughter only served to anger Dante further.
"Temper, temper, littlest twinlet. If you could control your delicious frustration for just a teeeeeeeny while I will tell you the rules of our game."
"Game?" Vergil snapped abruptly, halting in his agitated movements, trying to calm his pounding heart. He didn't like this. It was too dark, and his enemy was nowhere to be seen. He could feel the beginnings of panic settling like heavy shroud in his chest, choking him. He swallowed thickly.
"I've had just about enough of all this crap." Dante hissed, and Vergil started, startled to find his brother a lot closer than he thought he was. This was disturbing, because Vergil prided himself on sensing the presence of others, friend or foe. Not that he had any friends. Dante was practically back-to-back with him, but Vergil was sure he was not doing it consciously. Maybe his twin's instincts simply told him Vergil's back was less threat than an empty archway.
He usually knew instantly when someone (or something) approached him, but somehow…Dante had slipped under his radar, undetected…and his presence was far from threatening. In fact, he felt the weight in his chest lift and a cool relief settled his thoughts. It seemed Dante had forgotten that just hours before, they had been mortal enemies. It was almost comforting.
He had forgotten what it was like to not have to watch your back; to trust that someone else would do it for you. He drew a shaky breath and wrapped a hand about Yamato's hilt, the room seeming suddenly a lot less dark. He blinked, then sneered inwardly at his thoughts. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. Here, now, Dante was his ally. That was all.
"Yes, you see, the illustrious Lord Mundus has granted me the honour of toughening you up ready for the scolding you will no doubt receive from him later-"
There was a flash of blue in the corner of Vergil's vision, but before he could move Dante had sprung out, Rebellion swinging in a powerful arc. It hit the floor with an empty, echoing clang.
"Missed me, missed me!" Jester crowed, and this time Vergil caught the vague outline of a pair of dancing feet "My, my; did your parents not teach you boys to be polite to your hosts?"
The silence was deafening.
"Then again…I guess they didn't!" Vergil could feel Dante shaking with fury, could practically hear his brother's teeth grinding, but he himself felt…nothing. Just that familiar suffocating cold in his lungs. No anger. "It's so hard to grow up without a Daddy's influence, isn't it? You poor little fledglings probably never felt the proper sting of discipline. Allow me to show you!"
Something whipped past inches from Vergil's nose, and he heard Dante's grunt of pain seconds before a burning stab of pain seared across his face. He felt the thin cut immediately begin to heal, but felt sickened as fresh blood drooled down his face. A thin slip of paper was drifting slowly towards the ground in front of him, and he snatched it from the air. It was a card. A playing card, stained red along one edge with his blood. His lip curled as the eyed the image upon it.
Black Joker.
"Bastard-!" Dante spat, tossing his own card (a Red Joker, Vergil noted with a frown) away carelessly. Great. Now they were being given mocking metaphors by a demented clown. Could this day get any worse?
"Ooh, we're going to have to do something about that potty mouth of yours too, I see! But I'll save that for later. First, the game must BEGIN!"
He really shouldn't have asked.
"Ladies, gentlemen and half-breed scum, if you will cast your eye upon the room you are in you will see eight archways." Jester flitted from archway to archway, gesticulating enthusiastically as he spoke. Vergil and Dante pivoted on the spot, tensed. "Two lead to oblivion, two to suffering, two to unbearable suffering, one to nowhere and one to salvation."
Odds of success: one out of eight. Approximately twelve percent. And that was assuming the rules were sincere, which considering they were in Hell, was highly unlikely. Vergil scowled as he concluded, in no uncertain terms, that the likelihood of their wellbeing remaining positive was extremely low. Or, as Dante would put it, that they were screwed.
"What say we skip the formalities and I kill you now?" Vergil ground out, unsheathing Yamato with a flourish and brandishing it in an encompassing arc. Dante shouldered Rebellion, just barely missing decapitating Vergil, who growled "Cut the bullshit, Arkham! We don't have time for your twisted games."
"Did I mention there's a time limit?" There was a creak of something which sounded like chains, a groan of stone grinding on stone, and a shower of dust made both brother's splutter and choke. Looking up, Vergil saw a large contraption had descended from the ceiling. Two translucent glass bulbs displayed some kind of powdery substance. Vergil's eyes widened. An hourglass.
A sharp-fingered, gloved hand hit one end of the hourglass' bulbs, and it swung back and forth, then settled with the full bulb facing downwards. Immediately, sand (or whatever the powder was – it was a little pale to be sand) began to trickle lazily into the lower bulb with a soft hissing sound "Escape before the top glass is empty and you're relatively free to go. Fail and…well…" Vergil caught sight of a flash of pearly white teeth in the blackness "use your imaginations!"
"You-" Dante began, but Jester cut across him. "Tittle tattle, lost the battle! No time for dilly dally, time is running out! Oh, by the way. I thought you could use a preliminary challenge to get you in the mood. Something really special."
Jester snapped his thin fingers, and there came a distant echo of movement. Dante shifted his weight and rested Rebellion's tip against the ground "I don't like the sound of that." He murmured, clearly agitated.
"Shut up. I'm listening." Vergil snapped at him, straining all his senses, focused intently on listening for the oncoming 'preliminary challenge'. They were boxed in; surrounded. Not good.
Dante rested one hand on his hip and snorted, recklessly unconcerned "Listening? Listening to what?! Don't tell me you brought a CD player of evil villain music to keep in the mood!"
Vergil, as usual, was not impressed with his brother's theatrics "Surprisingly, no." He said dryly, and was about to elaborate when he managed to identify a distinctive sound among the clattering and echoes coming from the archways "Do you hear it?"
"Hear what?" Dante's brow furrowed. All he could hear was the far off bustle of movement, the occasional clang. Wait. Something else. A soft undercurrent, a delicate rustle, as though something was slithering along the ground. And a quiet chorus of hissing.
"Oh no." He said, backing up, before realizing he was completely surrounded "Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!" he gritted his teeth, heart pumping painfully fast, ignoring Vergil's smirk entirely and beginning to panic "Anything but that. No. This isn't fucking happening."
"Haven't gotten over that little Snake phobia of yours, then, Dante?" Vergil said pleasantly, emanating smugness, to which Dante responded with an eloquent:
"Fuck.You."
"Ooh, yes, of course!" Dammit. Arkham was still here. "Wittle Dante doesn't like slinky snakies now, does he? Poor ittle wittle Sparda ratling! Well, you're in luck. These are Chimera demon breeds: cross breeds between species, just like you. I like to call them Medusa Demons. One of my own personal creations, you know."
Vergil snorted derisively, unfazed by the increase in volume of the hissing sound "Ridiculous! You think snakes are going to pose a threat to- "
"Get em away from me!" Dante slammed into Vergil's back, sending him tottering sideways, off balance "Ugh! No! Stay back, you spawn of Satan!" he shuddered visibly, clutching Rebellion so tightly his knuckles had turned white "Ew!"
Vergil watched Dante spazz out for all of three seconds, before raising a hand and smacking his brother hard across the back of the head "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying."
"Have fuuuuuuuuuun!" Jester crooned, his voice fading off into the sixth passage "Oh, and just a little snag: seems Medusa Demon venom is the sort of nasty substance which not even other demons can heal from." Vergil snarled as he saw a pale hand wave a jovial goodbye "Better watch out! Ta ta now!"
The quiet stretched, Dante breathing heavily, the hissing growing louder and louder.
"I fucking hate that clown."
"Seconded."
&&&
A/N: And finally, we get to the angst and the torture! Woot! (punches air) This took a lot longer than expected. Apologies again for the wait! Oh yeah, anyone with any tips on how to get past level 3 of DMC3, HELP! (yes, I suck)
IMPORTANT: As of Monday, I'm back to school (weeps) so updates are likely to be slower. But fear not, dear readers! I shall not abandon ye!
Please review! Oh yeah; who do you think should be tortured more: Vergil or Dante?