Darkness grasped him tightly, like an immovable, tight hand. Light seemed to be a far, distant memory now. It was like he was in a tunnel, and a flicker of hope could be seen at the end of that dense darkness. But the faster he tried to run at it, the less tangible that hopeful brilliance became, disintegrating into ash.
Twilight…it was everywhere, consuming him, taking him, engulfing his heart in woe and pain. He could feel his soul burning, hellish fires charring and smouldering his very core.
He was screaming and praying all at the same time. He couldn't really think properly, and he didn't know why. It was like hitting an invincible brick wall over and over again, and not one piece of stone fell apart, no matter how hard he punched or flailed.
And then, slowly, reality broke through his blurred senses. Gradually he could see, and his screams became lesser and lesser…before he realised that in actually fact it was the silence that was crying out.
Of their own accord, Nero's eyelids flickered, rested, fluttered again, recuperated, and then finally crept ajar.
Was that a man…standing above him? Was he laying down? It felt that way…but that figure, standing there. Looking down on him…watching him. He was positive there was someone present…
Or was it the shadows playing mere tricks on his weak eyes?
He couldn't tell, and in an effort to reach a point of understanding, a physical point, he attempted to push himself up.
He screamed.
His back jarred, and his spine felt as though every vertebrate had just broken into pebble-sized pieces.
He gasped, harshly, though the air wasn't helping. His eyes widened too, as that man's face came into view…leaning down near him, close.
The Dante replica.
"Do not try to move. It will only hurt more. Your immobilised. Lay still."
Those four simple statements made him shiver horribly, the worst of them concerning immobility. His instinct was screaming at him, roaring…wanting him to get the hell out of there.
But his limbs hurt something terrible.
So instead, he did the thing which he dread the most.
He looked up, and took in that man's presence. Stared back at those eyes. Those silent yet vengeful eyes. The very feel of that heated connection…those eyes told a thousand lies, yet a million truths.
And he was so, so frightened. It was unreal.
"W-who are you? Mm…" he let his eyelids hug his cheek bones, the pain stitching up his will of speech. "What do you want?" he whispered.
He was delirious…thus, Sparda could understand just how stupid his questions were. How human they were…
"Dante's relative." Sparda replied, a snarl. "Vergil."
"Vergil…" Nero breathed, eyes still closed, intoxicated by agony. "W-what am I doing here…?"
"You passed out…apparently the power you possess hit an irrevocable force." Vergil said, lowly, and this time Nero watched the Sparda brother as he walked away from the place where he lay, hands behind his back, gripping his recovered Katana.
Power? Nero didn't understand, and he feared having to ask. But it seemed that Vergil already understood that the young man had a million questions circling his mind with no end, and so he turned around to face him from his now comfortable distance.
Nero scanned his face, but he saw nothing.
No emotion.
It was like looking at a statue, and he almost yelped when Vergil spoke, since it was so hard to determine when the Sparda brother were about to take action. He was far too glacial.
But his voice…how was it possible? For someone who looked so irresistibly beautiful to sound so undeniably cold?
And yet, the question remained…
Was this man a threat to him?
Certainly…
"It seems that my sword activated a power within you the day it came to be in your hand. Since then some of my own power and my father's, which is permanently engraved within the blade, etched itself into your soul. Last night, my sword rebelled against you, knowing that I hold the power that shall bring forth its true potential…it disowned you to return to me. However, it seems that our power is greatly alike, therefore the only way the blade could unbind itself from you was by causing you pain…ripping itself out of your system, and taking the remnants with it."
Nero only blinked. All of those fine words held no meaning to him, and he was deathly afraid of Vergil's demeanour.
"D-does that mean…?" he began, but Vergil finished.
"…You have no power anymore. Look at your arm. From now on, you are merely human."
And in that moment, Nero's jaw dropped down in pure shock. His arm…the demonic shape was still there, the scales and all. But it ceased to glow. He felt no kind of rush snake through his blood as he tried to call on the devil bringer.
It seemed justifiable to say that it wasn't a devil bringer anymore.
It was just a strange arm. A shell of what it used to be. A useless trophy.
Nero could only yell, holding his demonic arm in his human palm, gaping.
"What…what happened?" he sounded like a child, but he was too distraught to care.
"The power that resided within your arm is now a part of my sword." Vergil said, a bored note gripping his voice. "And it shall stay that way…" he stared down upon his Katana, studying it. "…destiny has settled it."
Nero's eyes bounced in their sockets and his chest pumped when Yamato's metallic song rung in his ears. He looked away from his pointless demonic arm, colour draining itself from his cheeks as he set his gaze on Vergil.
The cold man approached, Yamato held lowly in his hand, yet all the same, threateningly.
Nero had half a mind to beg for his life. He was defenceless; even his arm, his permanent weapon, had been taken away from him. It was now exactly the same as his human arm, only different in appearance.
He tried to move back, sliding on the floor beneath him. But it was like fear was pinning him down; bonding him.
His courage had drained. Yet, as Vergil approached, sword in sealed hand, he tried his hardest to accept fate. He didn't want to beg, he'd rather just die quietly.
No,…no, he would never beg.
But the blood that was brewing like a storm in his brain and taunting the pump of his heart seemed to make him consider otherwise.
He couldn't react upon impulse. Fight or flight were not given options in this situation. He had no other choice…
"S-stop!" Nero almost cried, arm extended in denial.
Why was he so afraid? He was never afraid! Of anything!
But it was Vergil. He had an effect, a hold over him. A terrifying one. And now that Nero knew he was nothing more than human, no stronger or weaker than an other man, he felt extremely threatened.
Still, Vergil came at him. Advancing without hesitance, the characterization of his eyes showing Nero that he would gain no mercy. No advantage.
He was doomed.
With a lightning strike, Vergil grabbed the boy's collar, making him scream as his pained body was pulled up high. With one careless attempt, the icy man threw him back onto the ground, hard and far.
The cry that escaped Nero almost made him smile.
"Be quiet. No one can hear you scream in here..." Vergil warned, slowly advancing. This boy...how he squirmed...it was so entertaining...
He stepped towards him, calmly, his feet collected and sturdy. Slowly, he sheathed the Katana, no longer wielding the empty threat. The boy noticed and sighed with what might be called relief. Not that Vergil cared.
He wanted to use this advantage. This boy…this pathetic, young boy…he knew that deep down, Dante cared for him. The boy was like the younger brother that Dante never had. He knew that his twin kept the young man securely under his wing; even if the boy knew how to handle himself, he was no match for him. He should, rightfully, just kill him and be done with it…
But, then again, the young male was only a minor. His heart was still soft and mouldable. Still able to be manipulated. Easily.
It would take more time than his patience had to offer though: the young man, scared as he was, seemed to be quite strong minded. He was not much of a challenge for Vergil really, however, time was an essential.
And it seemed that he would need it in order to bend the young man's will.
Time was something he didn't have to spare, but this could be worth his while. And so, Vergil decided to pursue this grand opportunity.
Standing above Nero, looking down on him, he opened his mouth and asked an unsuspected question.
"How are you related to Sparda?" he sounded rather shallow, almost deep.
Nero stared up with apprehensive pupils, a smudged look of dread and confusion painted near the iris's. He didn't know how to answer; he could barely remember who Sparda was. Though Sanctus's words came to him, a memory from that horrible day when he had watched Kyrie slip away.
You have indeed inherited Sparda's power…
And there had been another occasion too, something about his blood and the Saviour, but he couldn't recall.
"I-I don't know…" Nero winced through the pain, the now dead fingers of his demonic hand gently entwining around his throbbing human arm.
The elder Sparda could only blink, his lips meeting together to make a dead line. He hated to think that this brat was related to him, loathed to even consider sharing the same blood as him. Not only was the boy useless, but he was an abomination. His beautiful looks and incredible eyes could not fool Vergil, for that arm was still there. That told him that the young man was unlike others, and though Vergil himself was tainted with both human and demonic blood, he was no hybrid. Or rather, Vergil was a hybrid, but on the inside. This boy differed; his demnic trait was there for everyone to see, which meant everybody knew that he was a...what would be a nice term for him to use? Monster. Vergil's power remained on the inside, and he shared his abilities with his sword. And he thought himself to be far purer than this stupid boy.
"No matter. We are far from similar anyhow…" Vergil pretended to be dismissive. But truthfully he wanted to know how he and the boy were related; there had to be a connection. Yamato had shown him that it was true, the shining light that it had shed was more than just a call.
Either way, now was not the time to show emotion nor curiosity. Vergil had a plan to carry out, the young man would have to wait.
The elder Sparda turned on his heel, Yamato placidly held behind his back, and approached a steel door at the far end of the chamber where he had dragged the boy.
"W-wait!" he heard the young man faintly call, but did not turn. He opened up the heavy door, walked through, and then allowed its weight to shut itself without his help.
Alone, he walked through the hallowed hall, only giving the boy one thought.
He would have to start learning his place.
From now on, he was Vergil's slave. He would do as he were told, or Vergil would simply kill him. And on an important note; he would only speak when spoken to.
Vergil despised that about the brat. He was just like Dante, he always asked questions. He had only tolerated it this time since the young man was confused, but if he taunted a nerve again, Vergil would be quick to slit his throat.
And he would only give the young man one chance to prove himself, only one.
But not tonight. Tonight was Vergil's night. The only other thing he considered as he walked on steadfast through the hall was the fact that he could not stay in Fortuna Castle forever…
Only until Lady left…
The bullet slammed into the wall at an angle, singing sharply as it changed en route and bounced off the stone, towards the window. The stained-glass shattered and screamed, before silence haunted Lady's air.
Blast that fucking demon!
Piece of shit… Lady thought to herself, determination willing her to keep her lips sealed. This was a bad time to give herself away.
It was a big-ass demon, huge and so very elusive. She had managed to shoot the scarecrow demons down like wheat, but this baby just didn't want to be caught.
It had some strange abilities too; differing from electrical attacks too breakneck speed.
Its only weakness was its voice. Because, damn, when the thing appeared from out of its hiding places, it made one hell of a noise that let Lady's tentative ears know exactly where it was.
With two black modernised guns levelled up near her face she waited patiently.
"I got all the time in the world, sweetheart. Bring it on…" she whispered under her breath, hot from her lips. And as if on q, she heard the familiar sound of a deafening scream break close boundaries behind her.
And there it was, the foul beast. Disgustingly huge, carnivorous teeth and scaly skin.
She immediately wheeled, two gun's fired up to reap havoc. Her fingers twitched left and right, exchanging from each trigger as she ran backward, the vile beast gaining ground while ignoring the bullets that were penetrating its torso like daggers. Its teeth clasped like an Alsatian, saliva dripping from its horrid mouth. Lady sensed the wall behind her, counting steps. The monster must have realised it too, for it suddenly charged, cried, and jumped for her all at once. But it made no difference as Lady leaped high, flipped, landed one secure foot on the wall and then allowed her body to catapult. She didn't stop shooting, hell, she wouldn't dare. Though, as she landed in a cat-crouch near the opposite end of the corridor, she noticed that the echoing screams of the beast ceased.
Gradually, she arose, guns high and waiting. It had gone again…
"Ok…I'm all for games." Lady sighed, breathing upwards so that her ebony bangs crept aside from her view. The shades were not really helping in such a dark place. But she would much rather have them on than off.
Her heterochromatic eyes could stay hidden. She didn't really like there rarity, if you could call it that.
She suddenly growled when that manic sound reached her again, and for a moment, she didn't know where the hell she was aiming. The sound seemed to echo, making Lady pull her arms apart so that she was posed like an aeroplane, turning in a fast circle as she fired with all her might.
She continued, the scream growing louder and louder, yet, shrouded in invisibility.
"Where the hell are you, you son of a-?" she yelled over the banging bullets, but then, stopped.
Suddenly. It just appeared. As though it were inevitably planned.
The beast, the demon, was dead. And it was not she who had ended its life. She hadn't even touched it.
Yet there it lay at her feet, a slow pool of blood growing near her toes, crimson wastes sliding from its now open stomach.
Lady stepped back, surprised. Not shocked, just surprised. But still, taken aback.
Had it killed itself? She wasn't sure, but she doubted it would have resorted to self-destruction. Then again, there was no other explanation…
"Ugh…whatever…" Lady pouted, placing her guns in their holsters. Honestly, she was too damn tired to care. And the demon had been such a strange thing anyway, she supposed that it wasn't so peculiar that it had topped itself. Maybe it had been just as tired as she was? No, that was stupid.
The wicked never rest. She knew that well.
Usually Lady would have been much more open to interpretation. But weariness had taken its toll on her, and she just didn't have the strength to think. Although thinking was usually her job while she was with Dante; she was the smart one. But, in this situation, the death of a beast that's life had expired for an unknown reason did not challenge any interest within her. She would've just killed it anyway.
And she had bigger problems.
She had told Nero she would be five minutes. Well, five minutes had long gone…it was more like an hour by now.
Preparing herself for the leave, Lady pushed her shades further up her nose and straightened out her jacket. She breathed a little, but half way through her lungs recuperation, she stopped.
The sound of singing metal…a song of death. Ringing through the shadows, she looked to the side. The dead air in her mouth almost made her choke, but she held it in. But the sight…the sight was unbelievable. She was dreaming…it had to be a dream.
No, not a dream.
A nightmare.
He,…he was standing there.
That man.
She could not breath, no matter how hard she tried.
Staring at her.
He could not catch her eye's light due to those modern spectacles. But he wanted to…eyes were the windows of the soul, and he wanted to look through those windows…understand what she was thinking.
Instinct screamed at her.
As Lady stepped back, he stepped forth. His Katana held tightly in his sword hand, splattered in blood. The blood of the demon.
Now, she understood.
It was he who had killed that demon. Yamato's magic, that's how he had slaughtered the beast. The power of the dark slayer.
"Yamato. He has Yamato. Nero!"
The voices running amok in her head were numbing, but that one protested the loudest. Two, actually.
The one that was telling her that Nero was in danger.
And the one that was willing her to run away.
But she couldn't. She could only continue to step back, and he continued to comply by stepping forward, spinning his blade gently first before flicking it to the side harshly, the blood that splattered the metal abandoning the sword to lay on the ground. He sheathed his lethal beauty, and then advanced again.
"Good evening. Nice night." muttered the glacial figure, no hint of a smile, not even a cold one, twitching over his lips.
It was there, then, that his voice brought her back from dream to blunt reality. Lady immediately ignited, and this time she didn't reach for her two guns. With speed that even he did not believe she could muster for a little human, she swung Kalina Ann by its strap, holding it securely in her arms. Its huge mouth was aiming strait for him, but he didn't stop his pace. He didn't quicken nor hasten.
He continued to stride.
Slowly.
"Stop joking with me, Dante! That's not funny!" the young woman half snarled, half cried, the panic apparent in her voice.
She actually thought that he was Dante? Dante, dressed up to look like him?
Even he knew that Dante would not stoop so low…then again, the worry in her yell told him that she was suspicious.
He walked on towards her, entertained as she continued to back up, embracing Kalina Ann tighter, if it were possible. She kept slipping over her feet, tripping now, as unsteady as a new born foal. He heard the huge bazooka cock, but it didn't bother him.
She would never pull that trigger…never.
The wall pushed up against her back, her feet still shuffling somewhat before she realised that there was no where to go.
He followed, leaning in close. Too close for Lady's liking.
She quickly pulled the mouth of the huge gun up, hoisting it near her shoulder, the dangerous mouth directed strait at his face.
But he didn't flinch.
"Step back, demon." she hissed at him viciously.
"Am I not Dante?" he asked, a little coaxing whisper. He heard her breath catch before she shifted the bazooka forward. He did nothing.
"I don't care who you are! Back off!" she snarled with acidic disgust, and she almost chocked when he actually complied.
He stepped back; one step, two step, three step.
Hastily she scrambled away from the wall, Kalina Ann not even lowering by a fraction.
She eyed the corridor behind her, apprehensively, but still refused to leave him be.
"V-Vergil…" she whispered, soundly strangely awe stricken.
He only nodded.
She stood there a moment, frozen. He believed that she was blinking, but those shades were in the way of his view.
"What did you do to Nero, Vergil?" her voice trembled this time as she spoke.
He had forgotten that the boy had a name. More importantly, she still remembered his.
He only smiled, or leered, Lady could not tell. The moonlight was in the way, shining down through the broken gap that used to be a window above him.
She looked back again at the corridor behind her, nervous.
It was odd. He could practically hear her heart beating, but it would be so much better if he could actually feel the real thing thumping in unity with his. Her chest hot against his own.
It made him weak. It really did, the mere thought. And he hated himself for it, but God, he really did dream about it, night and day.
He noticed her look back and fourth, from him to the passage.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked, touching the handle of Yamato out of boredom. She saw this as a sign though, and held Kalina Ann closer, so he let his fingers gently slip away from the blade.
"Go." he said, nodding to the passage behind her. Though he stated it flatly and sternly, human as she was, she took it as an opening for a challenge.
"I'm not leaving without Nero! Where is he?"
"Leave and you may have him."
"Why the hell wont you hand him over now? What have you done to him?"
Silence…
"…you ask to many questions." he muttered, incoherently. And he walked away, leaving her to stew.
She could easily have shot him there and then, as she gasped, watching him leave.
But…just like Vergil had told himself, she never would.
"And Mary…" he said, turning to face her again. He noticed the immobility of her lush lips, the tight hold on the gun.
How dare he utter the syllables of her name...
"Tell Dante…I say 'hello'."