Disclaimer: Don't own anything, if that wasn't abundantly clear already.
Joe: This is a pretty quick update for me, because this is an enjoyable story to write. I had this finished a good while before posting, but I normally wait until my previous update is replaced off the front page. In the end, I lost patience and updated anyway.
Right, cheers to anybody who reviewed, but I'm afraid that there's no real way I can thank you save by written word. So how about multiple written words; thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.
To the point, the majority of people decided that Vergil should be the first on the list. Keeping in mind that this is a humour fic, I'm just going to say that good things come to those who wait. Just be a little patient, the humour will arrive eventually, and I'll be sure to make it nice and long to make up for the wait. Also, be aware that anything written in bold occurs outside of the storyline drafted by the characters. Like, them pausing to have a cup of coffee or something. Or something less related to my caffeine addiction.
Enjoy.
The hunter observed the carnage below him with an indifferent gaze, nothing but the moonlight and the fire below illuminating his form. Yet he was safely hidden from the untrained eye, perched as he was on a neighbouring rooftop to the spectacle below, one with the shadows.
Police officials scurried back and forth like panicked little ants, attempting in vain to form a perimeter around the smouldering wreck at the centre of the road, so as to prevent intrigued civilians compromising the scene of the event.
Yet what had actually taken place was a mystery to all, even to the hunter, who betrayed his neutral demeanour momentarily, his face a mask of bewilderment. He recognised the burning wreck as the remains of a motorcycle, and was one of the few who appreciated that such a wreck could not have been the result of an everyday road accident. The devastated remains were too few and mishappen for that, and that particular cyclist would not have been killed if it had been an innocent occurrence.
This was of the hunter's knowing, as he also recognised the pitiful, charred remains of said driver. The devil hunter, Dante Sparda, son of the Legendary Dark Knight.
The hunter realised the significance of this catastrophe. That which was powerful enough to kill such a man, let alone make it appear to be an accident, was inestimably dangerous.
With his inhuman keenness of sight, the hunter noted the tire marks that lined the road leading to the wreck, indicating that the motorcycle had been travelling at an intemperate speed. Dante had been trying to catch something. Or trying to escape something.
This was further cause for concern, the hunter knew. The son of Sparda was not known to turn tail and flee, even from the most formidable of foes.
It was beyond a shadow of a doubt that the culprit was beyond human. The hunter knew this, as he himself was also of dark blood. The hunter had been patrolling the rooftops recently, stalking and eavesdropping on notorious devil hunters, listening for news. For a chain of suspicious events had recently occurred, evidently linked, although the hunter had much to learn yet and was attempting to do so.
The hunter himself had not weeks ago been denizen of the underworld, slave to the will of another. Only recently had the hunter awoken, ragged, in the middle of the human wilderness, after what must have been a coma of sorts. One does not simply stroll out of the underworld, let alone one that is unconscious.
After several days of growing accustomed to the human world once again, and of several nights of observing devil hunters exchange news, the hunter perceived that demon sightings were becoming worryingly and increasingly frequent.
And now Dante son of Sparda was dead.
The hunter leaped down into an alleyway adjacent to the building on which he had perched, then, taking care to remain stealthy, stalked off into the night.
Thoughts flowed rapidly through the hunters mind as he progressed. A large fluctuation in demonic activity was never a positive sign, but the fact that Dante had been purposefully taken out, by something far more than a lesser demon foretold imminent chaos. And the hunter knew that he would be the only being alive capable of handling such chaos, and thus the task of resolving this situation fell to him. The hunter was not one to abandon his duty. But the wisest course of action would be to terminate that which was responsible for this, before events spiralled out of control. To deal with the illness before any symptoms develop, so to speak. Control was essential to any efficient operation. Though, the hunter knew that in order to control the situation, he must first understand it. Lack of understanding betrays control, you cannot successfully contain the unknown. The only clear way he could strive to understand the situation would be to closely examine known areas of relevance. As of yet, the only such place was the Devil May Cry office, which had belonged to the mercenary Dante prior to his death. Just where the hunter was heading that very moment.
As the hunter arrived at the office, he noticed with alarm that the door was wide open, and the lights were on. Somebody else had business inside, for some reason.
As he slowly approached the door, the hunter clasped a hand to his waist and silently unsheathed a long katana. The noises of wooden furniture being flung across the office and metal implements crashing onto the ground were heard. Whoever was inside was either destroying the office or was searching it, and had lost their patience.
Counting to three in his head, the hunter moved inside, sword gripped tight. The hunter was somewhat taken aback to find a woman inside. She had long blonde hair, and was wearing what appeared to be a long, elegant robe that fabricated from soft, white material, but her upper chest was coated by an extra layer of what appeared to be leather padding. The hunter doubted very much that it was indeed leather, however. On her shoulder was a curious pattern, consisting of a circle reminiscent of the wheel of destiny, with a large, flaming blade depicted at it's centre. The significance of such an icon was unknown to the hunter.
The intruder was not immediately aware of the hunter as he entered, for she had evidently found that which she had been searching so determinedly for.
An impressive European broadsword, a zweihander with a spiral-designed handle, with a star design engraved at the centre of the hilt; the cloaked form of the sword Sparda, known in this form as Force Edge. Yet, it was troubling to the hunter to see it in such a state – for that meant that one of the amulets had been removed.
Indeed; a single chained golden amulet with a scarlet jewel embedded at the centre was at the side of the sword. Where the silver half was, the hunter did not know.
It was at this moment that the hunter decided to alert the intruder to his presence. In a lightning-swift motion, the hunter seized the intruder, turned her around, and laid his sword to rest underneath her chin. The intruder stifled an initial gasp of surprise, yet seemed otherwise unperturbed by the situation in which she now found herself.
"Who are you?" the hunter asked her coldly "And what is your business here?"
The intruder only smiled at the hunter, irritating him endlessly, yet he did not emote as such.
"My name is of no importance, Vergil, son of Sparda," she answered mysteriously, her expression superior despite the blade at her throat "And my business may soon be yours, if you care to lower your weapon."
"I don't have time for mystery. Tell me what you're here for, and how you know my name, and I will spare you," Vergil replied venomously, becoming increasingly disturbed by this woman's collected attitude, even as he threatened to kill her.
"You seem somewhat distressed," the woman noted, seeming to read his thoughts "Do I disappoint you? Should I be cowering like a cornered beast?"
Vergil blinked, enough to confirm the woman's statement.
"I know that you will not kill me, son of Sparda," she told him with that aggravating smile "Because I have an offer that may be of great interest to you."
Vergil considered this woman for a moment. She was obviously inhuman, or she would not act so coolly under the threat of death, nor would she have known his name. He lowered Yamato, his beloved katana, and sheathed it.
"Elaborate." he ordered.
The woman gave him that smile, then reached to retrieve the golden amulet. She fondled it in her hand as she inspected it curiously, then she held it out to give to Vergil.
"I'm sure you are aware of the significance of this amulet – besides a keepsake from your parents," she said.
Vergil stared at it for a while, before hanging it around his neck and tucking it into his shirt.
"Yes. My father used it as part of the ritual to seal away the demon world from the human world. But this is only half of the amulet."
The woman seemed disappointed, unnerving Vergil further.
"Only part correct," she told him with a frown "I must have overestimated you. I would have thought that you, of all beings, would have known the entire story."
Vergil's eyes widened and his mouth hung loose before he could contain himself.
"What more is there to know?" he demanded of her.
The smile returned to the woman's face as she took a seat behind Dante's desk, and gestured for Vergil also to seat himself. She evidently had quite a monologue to give.
"You do know why there was a war between the demons and humankind roughly two millenia ago?" she asked him.
"Yes. The demons wished to rule both their and the human domains, and the humans resisted," Vergil answered knowingly.
"Yes. But that is not the entire picture," she told him, before continuing "You see, in the beginning there was only the Underworld. A world filled with omnipotent beings who could create as they saw fit to fulfill their desires, be that structures, or life-forms to do their bidding. But only to a certain extent. They could not create wholesome, intelligent life, or the means to keep it alive."
She paused to ensure that Vergil understood, which he of course did; the only new piece of information here was that the Underworld was older than the human world. She continued.
"Naturally, with so many powerful demons, competition to conquer the Underworld was rampant. The only law was survival of the fittest. The Underworld was a place of unending conflict between the devils and their subordinates, and all was anarchy. After a long and bitter war, seeking a truce, the devils formed the Order. Just "The Order", for beforehand there was no civil grouping whatsoever."
The woman gestured to the insignia on her shoulder.
"This is it's symbol. Anyway, the Order was necessary because if the conflict continued to ensue, then all would perish. The Underworld had very finite resources, and those resources were being consumed at an alarming rate by the conflict. As I said before, devils could not maintain intelligent life – in this case their own lives – alive by their sheer power alone. So the Order was established for survival more than anything else. With the greatest minds collaborated, it was not long until the solution was found. They created an artefact of supreme power, that could create worlds and fill them with life. With this artefact, the Order created the human world, and divided it's land amongst themselves."
"What you are saying is..." Vergil interrupted "That this amulet created the human world?"
"Yes. But, let me finish," the woman reprimanded him "You see, the amulet created the human world, all life within it, and filled it with resources so that the devils could continue to live on. Humankind was created as a sub-race to serve the devils, intellectually and physically inferior, but suitable for servitude. But the devils underestimated the cunning of man. Man soon learned to become efficient, with his numbers and by utilising the world around him with all it's resources. And thus, mankind rebelled. Humans built up strength while the devils did not anticipate it, then waged war. At first, the war was intense and vicious, yet clearly the humans were gradually losing ground, but then one of the devils, your father Sparda, realised exactly how humans had grown, and came to believe that it was wrong to enslave them. He successfully led the humans, and those demons which mingled with the humans, against the devils.
"It was not long until Sparda had gained enough power to put an end to it all. He created a ritual, using one of the devil's strongholds, the Teme-Ni-Gru, and several key components. His own demonic blood, human blood, and this amulet. It seems that he appreciated irony."
"What is the relevance of this?" Vergil cut across her sharply "This is certainly news to me, but why are you telling me this?"
"I am one of the order, disguised as a human for now," she told him "We have long since decided that the human world has failed our expectations, and that we must destroy it and it's inhabitants and build a new world. We are no longer in a position in which we can once again dominate this world."
Vergil was tacken aback.
"Destroy the entire human world?" Vergil breathed "How do you expect me to want a part in this?"
"Because you are not your brother," she replied "We are offering a deal. You provide your services, and we grant you a position of power in the new world."
"Services?" Vergil queried, intrigued.
"We are not without enemies," the woman informed him "Many devils, one-time Order members, are satisfied with the human world. They, through means of their own, have gained power here, or feel that they may yet. Mundus is one such demon, as is Argosax, Athos, Crìnge, Ulcas, and Pontius. One of them must be responsible for terminating your brother. They must know what the Order is planning, and took Dante's side of the amulet. Dante must have known that they were after him – he evidently removed his side of the amulet before fleeing. Now we don't know who has their hands on it. However, it seems that your brother has already dealt with Mundus and Argosax, so we can narrow down the list of suspects. Though, without that side of the amulet, we cannot go through with our plans. Which is where you come in. We feel that you, the remaining son of Sparda, are the only one capable of dealing with these devils who oppose The Order."
A small smile was beginning to spread across Vergil's features, despite himself. He was being tasked with hunting down a handful of devils, in return for Supreme power. There could not be a sweeter deal.
Vergil yawned audibly, his hands stretched into the air. His eyelids, he noticed, had become distressingly heavy. The PC monitor was slowly becoming a blur, and his fingers' movements had gradually become slow and sluggish.
He checked the time at the bottom right hand corner of the screen, and discovered with dismay that it was quarter past one in the morning. He had begun to type roughly after dinner. He eyed the empty glass on the desk reproachfully, for it once was filled with a substantial amount of red wine. Two empty bottles were placed to the side.
Grumbling irritably to the room, Vergil berated himself for staying up this late, and for having drank in excess while working. He then went silent as he realised that he was talking to himself. Anyway, he reflected, this work was to be his masterpiece, and he had to be at full mental alertness to do it justice. Time for bed.
Vergil set the computer to shut down, then groggily stood up, knocking the chair over with a noisy clatter. Indeed, his limbs were seeming to take brain commands as meek suggestions rather than orders.
"Shh!" Vergil reprimanded the chair, before attempting to make his way to bed. As his two suspiciously wobbling legs complied to his brain's will, albeit in a rather half-assed fashion, the end result was that Vergil appeared to be stretching his hamstrings.
He clumsily closed the door behind himself, which resisted his struggles a while before relenting to co-operate, then the somewhat light-headed son of Sparda headed across the hallway above the Devil May Cry office to his temporary bedroom in which Dante and Trish had allowed him to stay.
The moment Vergil's head made contact with the bed, a door down the hallway slowly and quietly opened. Dante cautiously extended his head through the narrow gap he had made, and upon ascertaining that nobody could sense he was there, he exited the room and closed the door inaudibly behind him. Dressed in a scarlet night-robe, he tiptoed down the hallway, opened the study door, and flicked the computer on. As the machine whirred into life, Dante made his way downstairs to the fridge to retrieve a cold beverage to enjoy with his reading.
Upon returning, Dante typed in username; "Vergil", with "The Aeneid" as the password. The computer flashed a welcome message, and Dante grinned as he thought how predictable his brother really was, pausing to take a sip of Heineken, then clicking on "My Documents".
After a few minutes of inconclusive searching through Vergil's documents (mainly diary entries and sword-related pornography), Dante eventually unearthed a word document labelled; "Devil May Cry 5: World's End".
If Vergil was a little more open-minded to Hollywood and human affairs, he may have known that there was a blockbuster film of the sub-title 'World's End', Dante mused. He opened up the document and began to read.
Seconds later, Dante cursed loudly.
After only a few paragraphs, Vergil had killed him off. Typical. Before Vergil had even established himself in the plot, he had seen to kill off Dante. And then he goes on to suggest that Vergil would get supreme power.
"What self-indulgence," the red-clad twin mumbled to nobody in particular.
Thoughts of delightful prank-related retribution coursed through Dante's mind, mainly involving razors and salt. None of these seemed satisfactory to Dante, though. The most severe prank he had thought of, Dante knew, would only have this effect:
Vergil: Oh. My dinner is kind of salty.
Dante (sniggering childishly): Oh, really?
No, something a bit more drastic would need to be done, Dante decided as he glanced through Vergil's work. Something that would cause some...impact on Vergil. Somewhat salty roast chicken would not be much more than a mild inconvenience, and Dante was aiming for something closer to a...a...moderate inconvenience.
And then it hit him. Dante chuckled his evil chuckle as he rubbed his hands together in mischievous anticipation, then took a large gulp of Heineken, revelling in his own conniving brilliance. Dante clicked at the bottom of the last paragraph Vergil had composed. The computer placed a flashing line where he had clicked, awaiting input.
Clasping his two hands together and cracking them in a preparatory fashion, Dante then wiggled his fingers, and gleefully began to type.
"Durh, I shore are stoopid!" Vergil exclaimed excitedly as he removed his pants and squatted over the floor, then took a dump, repulsing the woman endlessly.
"Oh naw!" he then shouted, realising his disastrous trajectory error "I tawt dat I poop on floor, but I really poop on my trousers! Oh gawd!"
The woman looked at him with nothing short of disgust, which Vergil mistook for carnal affection.
"Kiss me now! Durh!" he shrieked, pouncing forward to kiss the woman, which she dodged, because Vergil was nowhere near as attractive as Dante, nor as strong and intelligent and not-smelly. The woman stormed out irritably as she realised what a loser Vergil is, and that he smells bad.
"Aw, why can't I be more like Dante!" Vergil screamed at the heavens in anger and sexual frustration, because he never gets any action because the ladies all prefer Dante.
Vergil felt hungry, so he ate his own excrement with incomparable vigour.
"Yumm!" he said loudly as he slurped down the mushy goodness "I shore doo lurve to eat my own poop!"
Afer his faecal feast, Vergil for reasons of his own ran outside, and miraculously it was daytime again. Vergil pranced down the alleyway like a little schoolgirl (as he always does), merrily singing random words that went through his head (that featured in his lamentably small vocabulary), with no particular melody. Of course, he was blissfully unaware that he had forgotten his trousers, with no boxers to speak of.
Eventually he encountered a fountain in a plaza, populated by people on their lunch breaks, couples on benches, dog-walkers, and parents pushing prams around. Unable to suppress his infantile delight at a body of water, Vergil dived in, banging his head with a sickening crunch as the water was very shallow.
"My God!" a passer-by exclaimed in horror "That woman isn't wearing any trousers or underwear!"
"I think it's a man," his friend corrected him vaguely.
"Are you sure?" inquired the first man doubtfully. The two squinted at Vergil's genitalia.
"My bad, it's a woman," the second man apologised, then the two got momentarily excited before remembering that it was a decidedly unattractive woman who was half-naked in the body of water.
"Ugh...oh God," said one as his stomach violently protested at the sight he was observing. He proceeded to vomit all over the path, a motion seconded by everybody in the vicinity.
A demon popped into life by the fountain. It looked around, vaguely distressed by it's sudden materialisation into existence. It then noticed that it was a demon, and was further disheartened. It then weighed the odds of this ever actually occurring with a puzzled expression, then shrugged it's shoulders and began randomly attacking people nearby, figuring that since it was a demon anyway, it may as well do it's job.
"Ah! A demon!" the civilians shouted.
"Aw! A demon! I'll get it!" Vergil bellowed loudly, before reaching for his sword and attempting to slash at the menacing beast.
He lightly scratched the demon's rags. Said demon was displeased by this. Not that the rag had cost him anything, but that the rag consisted of it's entire wardrobe. It howled in rage before brutally tearing Vergil apart with it's frightfully sharp claws.
"Aw, no!" Vergil screamed pitifully "If only I were Dante, then I could actually figh -"
"What the hell are you doing?!" Vergil hissed.
"Gah!" Dante shouted, before toppling off the chair and crashing to the ground.
The younger twin looked up reproachfully at his elder brother.
"My business, that's what," Dante answered confidently.
Vergil glared at Dante in a manner that could have corrugated iron.
"You degenerate little...little...agh, I can't even find a word to describe you!" Vergil spat at Dante, who had found his way to his feet. "Why would you do this to my work? Why?"
Dante's mind raced remarkably quickly.
"That's...that's my work," Dante answered calmly "Yeah. I was thinking of making the new game...a comedy...yeah. Stroke of inspiration. Didn't think I'd remember it by morning."
"Oh really?" Vergil queried icily, then swiftly reached over to the mouse and scrolled up.
"Then why is your opening precisely like mine?" he demanded.
Dante blinked twice.
"What a coincidence!" Dante shrieked, both his hands elevated in the air in an exclamation of surprise "I mean, what are the chances?...this isn't working, is it?"
"No."
"Hah. Exactly what procedure would you recommend for the easiest way out of this?"
"Die painfully."
"...I see. Any alternatives?"
Vergil placed a hand to his chin thoughtfully. This was a rare moment of power over his brother, and he should therefore utilise it wisely. Should he command Dante to eat something undesirable? Have intercourse with something inappropriate in public? Perhaps a stapler? Or, allow Vergil to humiliate him on an unprecedented level? Maybe all three at once?
Suddenly, a stroke of brilliance swept through Vergil's mind.
"There is one thing I will permit you to do in order to allow this gross invasion of my work to slip by," Vergil slowly informed his brother, the smallest of smiles growing on his lips – which unnerved Dante endlessly "...you are to go, undetected, into Lady's apartment..."
Dante's eyes immediately widened. There weren't many things in the world which frightened the son of the Legendary Dark Knight, and an angry Lady was one of them. Aware of Dante's growing anxiety, Vergil gleefully continued.
"...while she is asleep, creep into bed beside her. You are not to do anything that would constitute assault, nothing like that. You are merely to snuggle, as it were. When she awakes, ask her how she slept, using a term of affection, as if you were her loving husband."
Dante was trembling at this stage, sweat pouring copiously down his forehead. The smell of his fear thrilled Vergil, who savoured it.
"Can...can I do it tomorrow night?" Dante whimpered "I mean...to give me time...time with my working limbs before she...she..." he trailed off, leaving the statement at that. Vergil understood.
"Fine. But it must be tomorrow night." Vergil mercifully relented "Now go to bed."
Dante skulked back to his bedroom, his head hung like a child caught in the act of a misdeed.
Chuckling to himself in a sinister fashion, Vergil turned to the computer, exited the word processor and chose not to save changes. He then shut it down, before retiring to bed.
His dreams were filled with the happy thoughts of Lady ripping Dante apart.
Hours later, at around five o'clock, the door to Dante's bedroom opened slowly and quietly. The only lesson that he had learned was that he had not been hard enough on Vergil.
Joe: Hoped yis enjoyed.
Don't know about you, but I would have actually played that game Vergil entailed. I sort of felt a little bad that I had wasted a plot theory. The story at the beginning of the chapter did seem a little rushed, but I had to in order to fit it into a chapter with room for sufficient humour. That could have been a halfway decent fic. Maybe.
I'm afraid there's no choice on the next chapter – it's going to be Dante's idea. After that, it's up to you.
You know the drill; please review since you read this far. Doesn't matter if you are signed in or not, your reviews are like crack to me. Yes, like crack. It's a term of phrase, people, calm down.
Wish yis all the best, Joe signing out.