Thanks to all the reviewers and people who added this fic! Y'all should know the drill by now... I don't own DMC or its characters, but I do own the detectives, the Sisters, and Seth. If you see any mistakes, please let me know (Fresh eyes are greatly appreciated!) Enjoy and don't forget to review.
Chapter 3: Once More… Undone
Was it really him or was that a hallucination? No sleep and no food will do that to you. The better part of Vergil's reasoning doubted the encounter, but still he couldn't shake the feeling that seeing Dante again was real. After all, he left behind the gun he was buried with.
At any rate, Vergil had bigger fish to fry; he had to find this Malina.
If Vergil's source was right, Malina needed a place to stay after using that much power to kill Dante; therefore, she was not far from Devil May Cry. But where to start?
Vergil understood what Aurora was telling him. In their brief encounter, she not only told him that Malina was extremely powerful, but she most likely had an accomplice, someone who had been in the coven for quite sometime. Someone harbored the same hatred for demons, purebloods and half-breeds alike. That someone may be concealing the girl right now.
He decided that he would force the perpetrators out of hiding. He would put Dante in plain sight.
Vergil had always been the thinner of the two, but still… he might be able to pull it off. He left the rooftop and headed for the shower. He went through his usual motions. The warm water would lull him to close his eyes and he'd see it; blood soaking into Dante's hair. He'd smell it; the warm metallic scent in the air. He'd hear it; Dante gasping for air. He'd feel it; the pulse slowing to a stop. And he'd taste it; the rage rising from the pit of his stomach.
Every single time, his senses betrayed him.
Vergil awoke from his reoccurring nightmare, turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and dried off. He went to Dante's room and went through his closet and found what he was going to wear.
Vergil donned a pair of baggy, dark blue jeans, a black tee-shirt with 'Black Sabbath' silk-screened in red across the chest. He decided to complete the look with a red hooded jacket and a pair of black, half-laced combat boots.
He even brushed his hair into Dante's signature style and practiced the cocky, lopsided grin that his brother had taken years to perfect. Tonight, for all intents and purposes, he was Dante.
He stepped into the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trish stumble out of her room dressed in a white satin teddy and a black satin mid-length robe. She sleepily bumped into Vergil.
"Oh. Sorry, Ver—" Her drowsy eyes focused on what Vergil was wearing.
"What are you doing?"
At first sight of Vergil, Trish's emotions ran the gamut from shock to hurt to pissed. Lethargy evaporated. She was so upset that she couldn't look him in the eye. She stepped closer to him with her eyes trained to the floor.
"How could you?"
Vergil didn't answer.
"How can you stand there dressed in that?!"
Tears stung at Trish's eyes as she looked at the ghost before her. "We know you miss him, but we miss him too and this doesn't help," she gestured to his clothes.
"You not sleeping and eating aren't helping. My God, you dropped ten pounds in a week. You keep this up you'll simply waste away."
He looked away, turning his head to the right and looking at the floor. Trish bent down to once again establish eye contact.
"Do you not care that Lucia and I are worried about you? Are you that callous? Are you that much of a devil," her tone driving into his heart.
"I don't have time for this," Vergil finally said pushing Trish aside. With that he grabbed Yamato and worked his way to the streets.
What would he do? What was the plan, really? Vergil rarely ever acted on impulse. To him, every small detail must be meticulously deliberated. Every contingency accounted for. Every action executed with finesse.
It wasn't long before he could sense the police tailing him. There they were parked in unmarked cars outside his home; and once again when he took a subway across town. He sat on the train quietly as it rumbled down the track. He stared out of the window into the blackness of the tunnel, sometimes catching his own reflection and the others.
There on the same car, sat an old man reading a book across the aisle from Vergil. Another man in business suit entered the car, speaking loudly into his cell phone. A few rows behind him sat a couple of teenage girls arguing whether or not the man in front of them was in fact Dante, the lead singer of a band they saw in a club a month ago.
"Just look at him. He has the white hair and… it's the same face," one girl said seeing his face reflected from the window.
"No he's not. Don't you ever watch the news? Dante died like a couple weeks ago. I think it was suicide or something." Vergil didn't attempt to respond the girl's comment.
At least Vergil's plan was working… in passing.
He noticed a woman on the far end of the car with an infant in a carriage. It was quite evident to Vergil that the infant was a doll. A young courier entered the car with a bike followed by a young woman.
Why am I being followed? Why so many? The Coroner ruled Dante's death a suicide. Perhaps Lucia and Trish tipped off the police.
Just before the next stop, Vergil stood and walked to the door. He turned his head slightly and said, "Undercover cops, huh? How long were you going to keep up this charade? With the exception of the two girls in the back, you all are doing a pitiful job of it. I only ask that next time you follow me about, you aren't so obvious about it." He gripped Yamato in his left hand and stepped off the train.
----
"What?! He made seven undercover officers... all at once?"
"Yes, sorry Chief. You should know that the number includes the two young ladies we hired as informants. Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted," said the burly uniformed police officer from behind his desk.
The younger officer continued, "In my opinion, we should use new and less officers on this particular case. Everything needs to be handled carefully. I personally think this guy is powder keg, ready to explode. He has delusions that his brother was murdered and he roams the streets with a katana. He's definitely out for blood. Thankfully, he hasn't attacked anyone yet."
"Hmm. I see. He hasn't done anything wrong… yet, but hiding in the shadows and following him like he's a common criminal isn't going to help matters. Some of my men are even afraid to approach him for questioning. You're right; he needs to be handled delicately. There is going to be a briefing down the hall in ten minutes. I expect you to be there," the chief said rising from his seat.
"Good morning, everyone."
"Good morning."
"For those who do not know, I am Chief of Operations, Parker. From what we've seen last night, this case isn't going to be simple. Our mark, also known as Vergil, has been on our radar for quite some time. In the past he and his brother, Dante have been wanted in connection with several missing persons cases and put up for a few assault charges. Unfortunately, there were no charges that could stick. At any rate, we have new officers joining us, so now we going to do a brief overview with our profiler. Johnson?"
"Thank-you sir," a slim man dressed in a gray power suit walked to the front of the conference room and began a PowerPoint presentation containing maps and assorted pictures of Vergil and Dante.
"This is Dante," Johnson began, "He was the lead vocalist and guitarist for the local Indie-Rock band, 'En Fuego'. He committed a rather messy suicide fourteen days ago." He scrolled through the crime scene photos and then came to a photo of Vergil.
"Vergil, Dante's twin brother, believes that something else happened. In fact he is quite adamant that someone murdered his brother. He is still out there terrorizing people he thinks serve as a connection to Dante's death. Fortunately, no one has been hurt as of late." Johnson switched to a full photo of Vergil dressed in his trademark blue trench coat, black leather vest, leather pants, tan boots and finger-less gloves. The photo also accounted the details of his fluffy cravat and spiked, platinum hair.
Johnson began again, "He doesn't dress much like this anymore, but we will begin with his appearance. Vergil has blue eyes and white hair. He is actually in his mid to late forties, but still appears to be in his late teens or early twenties. Don't we all wish we had his genes?" He paused for the gallery chuckles.
"Vergil is approximately six feet tall and he weighs about one hundred forty-five pounds. He may seem like a lightweight, but he is deceptively strong." Johnson clicked to the next photo.
"This here is known Gibbs," indicating a large man in a full body cast, "Three months ago, he admitted to an attempted mugging. He was armed with a gun and attacked whom he described as 'a tall, well-dressed, skinny man'. Upon inspection of surveillance photos, it is clear the man Gibbs attacked was Vergil. He was close to a hundred pounds heavier than our target. Unluckily, for him Vergil broke nearly every bone in his body."
He went to a photo of Vergil dressed in a set of Dante's clothes. "Judging from the earlier photo, Vergil can be viewed as somewhat of an aristocrat. He thinks highly of himself. He is quiet, reserved, and polite; a perfect gentleman if you will. He calls the sword he carries around, 'Yamato'. It is a modified katana. We believe that it was a family heirloom. Anyone who has seen him practice on his rooftop knows that could potentially be deadly with that blade. Like his older brother, Dante was an excellent swordsman as well as a firearms expert."
He regarded the current photo and said, "Now that Dante is gone, it seems that Vergil has become disassociative, almost as if losing Dante caused him to lose an apart of himself. It appears that Vergil dresses as him in order to become him. He may be losing a sense of reality, which can be dangerous. That picture of Gibbs illustrates that Vergil has a lot of rage, but it is controlled. Imagine what he would have done to Gibbs if he weren't in control."
He paused to take a sip of bottled water and said, "He still keeps his sword on his person. However, the good news is that he probably disapproves of the use of guns or other weapons and he hasn't used his sword yet. It is very difficult to track this man. Many officers report that they were tailing Vergil in one moment and then he would disappear in the next. They also say that he knows when you are following and he lets you know that he knows."
Johnson gathered his thoughts and spoke again after a brief pause. "Hmm… Losing a loved one is tough and a sibling is just the same if not harder. But imagine the loss of a twin. It's enough to leave anyone… undone," he began again after another brief pause, "Vergil is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous; approach with caution. He is unstable, so be careful of your words and actions. In front of you are detailed dossiers on his daily routines, where he lives, his roommates, and his local haunts. Read them carefully and construct your own tactics. Remember use extreme caution. Good luck and dismissed."
"Thank you, Johnson," said Parker, "Team A, you'll take the first watch."
The remaining detectives filed out of the room
So they followed. They tailed him all morning and into the night. He knew, but he didn't care. Vergil had become a man possessed. His mission was Malina.
Out of nowhere, Vergil could sense an overwhelming feeling of familiarity. It reminded him of… home. Without another thought, he chased the sensation to V Street. It led him to a nightclub.
The 9:30 Club. Dante's band had played there many times before and yet Vergil had never been. Vergil somehow made his way in, past the dancing crowds unnoticed. He pushed himself closer; closer to the pounding music, closer to the stage.
The sheer heat generated by the many bodies made Vergil take off his jacket. No sooner, either... lest the bright red attract unwanted attention.
As soon as he reached midway to the stage, the song that pulsed through the sound system ended and a band walked onto the platform. Cheers and applause engulfed the place.
"Who are they," Vergil heard a conversation just behind him.
"You don't know? That's Relic. They sing their own songs, but mainly cover other artists' songs."
A young man stepped ahead of the band and began playing the opening guitar riffs of Alice in Chains' "Man in the Box". His shoulder-length hair was black as obsidian, eyes shimmering emeralds and skin as pale and smooth as milk.
His scrawny physique was made smaller by his jet black garb. Only his silver chains and skulls on his belt provided some contrast.
Ebony painted nails strummed expertly. His bubblegum lips parted to vocalize the lyrics:
I'm the man in the box
Buried in my shit
Won't you come and save me
Save me...
He appeared to be about sixteen, but his voice seemed to be much more mature than his years; a deep timbre rolling in his throat that would captivated anyone.
"They're pretty good!"
"I know! They're awesome! They kinda remind me of En Fuego"
"Yeah! I wonder why."
Feed my eyes, can you sew them shut?
Jesus Christ, deny your maker
He who tries, will be wasted
Feed my eyes now you've sewn them shut
Vergil watched and listened. Who is this kid?
The boy's bone-straight hair hovered just above his shoulders. With each graceful motion, it floated as if he were underwater. Vergil was able to barely make out the glowing red aura that surrounded the boy.
By his guitar solo, the aura grew and brightened. Vergil allowed the lyrics and tune to fade away into total silence. The audience danced and cheered wildly with no sound.
The boy grasped at the microphone and belted out no words. Vergil observed the boy's odd yet familiar stage mannerisms.
The boy made eye contact with Vergil. The gleaming emeralds stared down the icy sapphires. By then, Vergil's suspicions were confirmed. The boy wasn't who his fans thought he was.
Vergil stood in the crowd and watched the entire set, keeping an eye on the boy; he did the same.
The band ended their set with Audioslave's "Cochise". The boy's guitar was already dangling behind his back from the previous song.
The boy grabbed his guitar and whipped it around his body and played the almost staccato starting notes. He inhaled and belted the opening vocals.
Well I've watching
While you've been coughing
I've been drinking life
While you been nauseous
So I drink to health
While you kill yourself
And I got just one thing that I can offer
Go on and save yourself
And take it out on me...
That hypnotic voice enraptured everyone, including Vergil.
After a while, the band played their final notes and bowed. They boy announced into the microphone, "Thank you! You've been great."
The emcee stepped onto the stage and shouted, "Let's here it again for Relic!"
With that, Vergil cued himself backstage, slipping past eager fans and security.
He made his way past the labyrinth of meeting rooms and groupies and entered a dressing room that was normally reserved for the acts. The boy was in the far left corner of the room scooping sugar in a blue ceramic mug.
"You take two sugars in your tea, right?"
Vergil didn't answer, but instead stepped closer to him.
The boy turned and extended the cup to Vergil.
"Ooooo... Black Sabbath. I didn't you had it in you to do it, Verg. I'm so proud."
That voice rang with that unmistakable air of arrogance.
"Dante?"
"In the flesh," he glanced downward for a second and continued, "Well... sorta."
"What are you – How –" Vergil couldn't coherently put together a sentence as he shakily grasped the mug.
"I would have thought you would know. It's a possession. You once did the same thing to a kid named Nero," he said plopping onto a plush brown corduroy-like couch.
"Or... don'tcha remember."
Holy exposition, Batman! Well... the info had to get out one way or another.
Tidbit: The 9:30 Club is real nightclub/concert venue on V street in Washington, D.C. near where I live.
Your reviews are sweeter than candy.