"Dante…you have to believe me!"

"No…"

"But he was there! He spoke to me, practically touched me! He confessed that he had Nero captive, straight from the horse's mouth!"

"No…it was that demon…an elusive demon…"

Her nerve-stimulated fist pounded the table, leaving a large dent in the wood's surface, yet failing to surprise the hunter set behind it.

By now, Lady was beginning to lose her temper.

Trying to send a message through Dante's thick skull was like trying to equally measure out water in order to match the thickness of blood.

In other words, almost impossible.

"Dante! What the hell's wrong with you? You saw him too, remember? In the arch, the doorway of Fortuna castle! I know you saw him Dante, and by God you've got to realise it and except it! Do you know what he could do to Nero? What he would do to Nero?"

Suddenly, Dante was up, he too slamming a fist into his desk. A much harder one. A startled Lady had to step back, before finding her rage again.

This had gone on long enough in Dante's book. Of course he accepted that Nero was in danger, and that they had to find him as soon as possible. But the facts that Lady kept insinuating were completely and utterly preposterous…not to mention, she had a nerve for bringing his dead sibling into this.

Did she not understand? He hated having to recall the past…he despised thinking of Vergil. It meant that Dante was forced to backtrack along the path of his sins, and that of all things, was the only piece of Dante's life that brought him fear.

So no…he would not take her words into account. She could go to hell.

"Lady!" Dante yelled, as though he was calling out to her. Like he couldn't believe that the persona on the surface of this woman was Lady at all; like she was buried underneath, and if he asked her to come out, she might just step fourth and not bring Vergil up again. "Ima say this once…and only once. Vergil is dead. Gone. And if there is an essence of him left, well, its in hell. And any remains of him will stay there, ok? And don't tell me that I'm wrong, cos I'm not."

Sighing, she regrouped. Dante almost growled, watching the clogs in her brain ticking. He knew that she was ready to go again…ready to prove him wrong. Pounce on him like a bloody hungry lioness.

Seriously, he believed that she should have been a lawyer…and if it was not for her bastard farther, she probably would have ended up with a more sophisticated job.

"Look, Dante…" she started lowly, dipping her head towards the ground. "I respect the fact that you find it hard to…let go…" she sighed, heavily "…but I know what I saw, and I remember who I talk to, ok. Especially those that are supposed dead."

"Ah, to hell with this!" Her eyes widened a little when he suddenly yelled and flipped the table over. The phone went flying, as did a box of decayed pizza.

Lady gaped, stepping back again. She could see it now…see his emotion properly. And by God, Dante was indeed livid. She'd never seen him like this before. Never. His eyes were burning, full of fire and anguish. His lips had met together in a furious stitch, and his brows were bent downwards, his fists quivering with tight nerves as he clenched them into obscenely tight balls.

"You mention him in context again…" his voice, a lethal whisper "you even say his name, I swear on his fucking deceased soul, you'll leave this place…and you wont ever come back."

A defeated Lady looked down, eyes a mix of fury and frustration.

"Fine…I'm sorry." she said, quietly.

He didn't say anything to acknowledge her apology. He didn't even mutter 'good' or 'fine'. And in Lady's opinion, that was one of the most hurtful things he could have done to her…not appreciate her opinion, nor her yield to his anger.

Without another word, he turned on his heel, charged up the stairs, and slammed the door to his room as he fled her presence to meet privacy.

All that was left for Lady was silence.

She felt odd now. Somewhat heavy, and as she stood, blinking at the ground, that feeling grew stronger…like it was tying her down.

Guilt. She felt guilty.

But why?

Guilty because her words had wounded Dante. Guilty because they had left Nero behind…after all, if she had not ran off to murder that demon, well, he'd probably still be with them.

But she knew she was right about this current dilemma…it should have been Dante apologizing to her. He should, rightfully, be graveling. He didn't believe her. And, what was more, he would rather have her out of his life, than have to unwrap the memory of Vergil safely tucked away in the back of his mind.

"Why?" she whispered inwardly. She didn't understand it. Vergil had done Dante no good whatsoever. No good at all; not in the past, and he certainty never would in the future.

But that thought did prod at her curiosity. Now that Vergil had returned, which he had, what plans did he have for Dante? More importantly, Nero?

She still couldn't believe that they had left him there. In that castle. It terrified her, it really did. She knew well that Vergil would never show kindness or any consideration towards the boy. She imagined that Vergil just saw him as a pathetic little child, no use to him and no use to the world. Her plea to save Nero had not been heard by Dante however; when he stated that they needed to leave the castle, she had begged and begged, screamed at him that they could not just leave him behind. But Dante had heard none of it…all he kept saying was that the place reeked of demon, and if they didn't leave, they would be swarmed by the damned. And even when he mentioned Nero, all he had muttered was 'kid can look after himself'.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Perhaps if she had told him at the time that Nero was now a prisoner of his twin's wrath, maybe he would have reacted…maybe. But foolishly, and she was kicking herself for it now, she had not mentioned Vergil whatsoever. She had felt that the matter was too sensitive for her to approach in such a situation, and so, she had kept her mouth clamped shut…and had watched sorrowfully, as they sped away from the scene on Nero's bike, her arms rapped around Dante as she gazed at the gothic building…until it was out of sight, and out of reach.

Ever since, she had pondered to herself quietly…was Fortuna castle now the tomb of that beautiful boy's corpse?

She scolded herself for even considering it.

After all, here she was…safe. While Nero could be anywhere, dead in a ditch or even shackled to some wall. It sickened her very logic; what with her constant beliefs that all men and women, when innocent and pure of heart, should not be neglected by their fellow humans. But what had she and Dante done? Left that boy for evil to claim…left him to the mercy of that son of a bitch.

"No offence to Eva Sparda…" she whispered discreetly under her breath, holding in a scowl.

But that suppressed expression meant something…

If Dante refused to accept that after a three day absence Nero could be in danger…well then, that meant he would be of no use to her.

She would have to go back and track him down. Alone.

Inhaling and then exhaling, she snapped her line of vision towards the door, and only leaving behind the bitter thoughts of Dante's denial, she walked through Devil May Cry's front door, hoisting Kalina Ann higher onto her back.

"You say nothing. You only speak when spoken to, and if you draw attention to yourself when not addressed, you shall not only suffer my consequences…but hers, too."

Nero's nerves unwound as Vergil released the tight hold on his arm. He still had a numbing bruise there, along with many others decorating his body in dark and navy shadows.

Vergil had not been particularly kind with him. He had handled the teen harshly; pulling him along if he was too slow, encouraging him to obey by throwing him about if irritated, and hissing at him vividly when angered.

And now, finally, Vergil had tamed the fire…successfully managing to tie puppeteer strings to his slave. The boy now listened to his every whim.

And so, here they were…having left Fortuna Castle, now in a city.

A murmur of incoherent music and laughing seeped through the walls of a club, reaching the back-alley outside where they were standing. There was no bouncer awaiting their admittance, not like the time when Vergil had entered alone, and Nero could not help but wonder why on earth they were in such a civilised place.

Nero was blatantly aware of how much Vergil hated him…the youth did not have to pursue the matter, nor ask.

So, why had he brought him here? To speak with some woman was all that Nero knew…but still, why a club?

Though Nero was not complaining. It was a far less daunting setting compared to Fortuna castle.

But he dare not ask Vergil anything. He dare not even utter a word, for fear of Vergil's wrath.

The elder quietly walked to a brown door ahead, and opened it with a soft push…so gently that it came as a surprise to Nero.

He had forgotten that this man was not all mite. The icy demeanour about him was so thick that it was almost tangible, so Nero would often consider him to be immortal. Not that he knew better…maybe Vergil was invincible. He certainly gave off that impression.

The silver-haired man turned his body towards Nero's direction, but his eyes did not even look upon the teen.

"Come." he beckoned, and Nero listened. Like a dog obeying its master.

Vergil held the door open for him, and as soon as a cringing Nero passed by him, he released it, and allowed darkness to reclaim the oblique surroundings.

The teen tensed as that same elusiveness held onto him, or in another word, fear. Darkness was now like a symbol to him, an embodiment of what his life had become.

There had not been a second since Nero had been forced to accompany Vergil, not a second when he had not felt fear.

"Walk." Vergil's morbid voice commanded from behind, and with a little jolt, Nero put a foot into action. The other one shortly followed, as did the elder.

He couldn't really make out where he was going; all that he could see were the fickle shadows, picked out by a strange, seemingly glassy surface. Mixed with uneasiness and nerves, Nero's foot slipped as it landed for another step. The teen gasped as he felt his body plummet, a flash reflection of himself catching his eye. But a sudden hold on his arm stopped his fall, and he felt himself swivel as Vergil turned the teen around to face him.

"Do not be so careless. This corridor is made of glass, so unless you want permanent scars, I suggest you pull it together." He sneered during the last part, as though his words were some kind of spiteful, inside-joke and only he understood. Nero just gulped, holding in his voice as Vergil pushed him forwards, willing him to keep moving.

They continued in silence. Vergil, who had already been here before, saw nothing of interest within his surroundings. But Nero's clinging inquisitiveness wouldn't leave him be, and he found the ghostly reflections to be fascinating. He could see himself passing by through each glossy mirror, and the everlasting light given by Yamato, stuck to Vergil's side, had not ceased to shine. It helped Nero determine how close behind Vergil was, and it was only a foot. He could see the whites of his eyes, switching shades as they passed each portrait of solid reflection. He could tell that the elder was staring at the back of his head, for his pupils never moved or changed. It was only the blurred glimmer of the inner-moon's, centred near the irises that changed regularly…not Vergil's actual line of vision.

"Stop." Nero almost fell again when Vergil's voice barked at him suddenly. He came to a clumsy halt, whereas Vergil's was neat and graceful.

"Turn to the right. There shall be a door at the end."

The teen blinked for a moment, before instinct took over his mind and he tried to obey - but as he made his move, he heard Vergil sigh impatiently, and almost chocked when the elder pulled on his red hood.

"I said right, not left." the sinister man growled, thrusting Nero in the correct direction.

"Right…" Nero repeated under his breath, slightly embarrassed. He shut up though, for Vergil heard everything…and he didn't want to endure a stab. When your against someone who wields a sword like Yamato, especially if that enemy's a great swordsman…it is foolish to taunt fate. Nero knew it well.

Walking in an unsure, wobbly stride, Nero peered ahead. A vision slowly fitted together, his eyes gathering shards of an unknown scene. They neared, Nero was clearly able to see himself walking forwards, Vergil pursuing behind. Another mirror stood before them, but this one had a handle, so it was clearly a door. He stopped before the entrance, but Vergil was quick to command.

"Open it." he said flatly, and Nero, a little hesitantly, slipped a hand over the knob and let the door creep aside, light filtering through the opening.

They stepped inside, and Vergil threw the glacial door back into its frame.

Nero stood quietly, but internally intrigued. Once again, glass was the main source of material that structured the room. A large table made of the same transparent solid stood in the centre of the room, and in every corner there were beautiful, glossy angels. Most noticeably, the room was empty.

But Nero couldn't believe how utterly shiny this room was. Who the hell liked so much glass?

Someone completely vain, most certainly.

He jumped a little when he heard Vergil call out.

"Woman, I do not have all day…would you be so kind as to show yourself?"

At first nothing seemed to happen. But then, a quiet sound made itself audible, and something moved sulkily in the shadows near the back wall.

Nero's eyes widened, and he could feel his body bending a little, ready to fight should he need to. It did not help that he had no weapon.

And then, a light gust of sound made a soft murmur, before the glass moulded. The solid liquidised, and Nero's brow furrowed, whilst taking a step back.

"What the hell-?" he murmured under his breath, but Vergil silenced him with a grab to the shoulder. The elder did not flinch, he only kept his sight glued to the moving mirror, and just as predicted, the shape of a woman's body evolved through the glass, and a female stepped out. The mirror bounced back into shape, and Nero's eyes grew even wider.

"About time, demoness." Vergil snarled, and pushed Nero back as he walked forward.

The blond woman known as the 'Harlequin' among her kind rolled her eyes behind her diamante mask, hands planting themselves onto her voluptuous hips.

"Oh Vergil, what a cherish you are to the joys of life. Honestly, some human should include you in fairy tales."

He growled at that, wanting nothing more other than to smack the sarcasm out of her. Alas, it would come to no avail. She was, after all, immortal.

"I did not come here for your shallow jests. I came here so that you might inspect the boy…"

She put a hand to her lips thoughtfully, wondering.

"Boy?"

She had obviously failed to spy Nero in the back, and when she set eyes on him, she stepped back in surprise. Even Vergil was compelled to act with awe, as the woman before him removed her mask slowly, and her crystalline pupils came into view.

She looked amazed; like she had just seen something she could barley believe. She was not looking at Vergil, but behind him…at Nero.

Vergil turned, noticing that Nero was squinting, like he was questioning the Harlequin's interest.

"My…could it truly be?" she whispered, fingertips slipping over her perfect mouth. Vergil raised a brow as she walked towards the teen, the boy looking like he might have swallowed a large quantity of sand.

"I never thought I'd see the day…" she murmured, this time smiling, and she was suddenly right beside him. Nero let out a shudder as her unsuspecting hand slipped under his chin, pulling his head somewhat higher so she could inspect.

"What the hell are-?" Nero gaped in disbelief, his fire igniting at such handling. He wasn't some dog at a show, and he was growing tired of being treated like one.

She trickled a finger over his lips, silencing him.

"My, my, Vergil…where did you find such a beauty?"

The elder gritted his teeth, frustrated.

"I don't care about how he looks. I want to know who he is. He is related to me, I know it. My sword has shown me that it is true. I want you to tell me how he shares the same blood as Sparda. What is the connection?"

The woman hymned, considering Vergil's unresolved theory. She put her hand higher up Nero's face, trailing his cheek with a nail. The youth had half a mind to snap at her, but was wise enough to notice just how sharp those nails were.

"It is strange." she began. "He does indeed share your blood, and he was indeed able to handle a connection with Yamato due to this relation. Almost like the way Dante is able to control it…but somewhat differently. This boy has powers that are yet to awaken, talents hidden under the surface. Or rather, he did. You have taken that away from him, have you not, Vergil?" she turned to look at him, and Nero eyed him maliciously, though his face hid the emotion.

Vergil blinked, placing his hands behind his back. Even he noticed how harsh that sounded.

He nodded.

"Naughty ice man. That was very wrong of you…" she dared to mock, pouting her lips childishly.

"Get on with it…" he snarled.

"Well, he is no use to Sparda's legacy now, you've ruined it. You've made him completely human. You've lost him."

Those were strange words, Vergil could not help but think, and so he interrogated.

"Sparda's legacy? You must be mistaken, he is no son of Sparda. Me and Dante should be continuing our father's legacy, the boy has nothing to do with it."

The Harlequin smiled, placing a hand to Nero's shoulder. The youth in turn looked at her, full of misunderstanding.

"You have not given this enough thought, Vergil. Yes, you are correct, he is not your brother. However, he is the bearer of Sparda's legacy…his true power."

This seemed to hit a nerve, and Vergil's temple began to show.

"That is impossible…"

"No, it is not. You of all people should know not to be narrow-minded in such affairs, Vergil. Now, hear me, and hear me well. This boy, he is no natural blood relation of Sparda…he is, in a way, Sparda himself."

Vergil gaped for a moment in disbelief. No, this demoness was wrong…very wrong.

"Do you even know what you are saying-?"

"Yes, Vergil, I am aware. But what I say is true…this boy, he is born from man…but he is Sparda, reincarnated."

Both men seemed to jump at this, interrupting each other with questions. But the woman raised a hand to silence Vergil, and put her hand against Nero's mouth.

"Allow me to explain, gentleman…now, young one, do you know who your mother is?"

Nero blinked, a little torn from having to say no…his past was something he rarely spoke of.

"No."

"I thought not…you are an orphan, correct?"

He frowned, as did Vergil.

"Was."

"I see. Now, I can tell you the truth of your past. The power of knowledge has always been a strong point of mine…but do you truly wish me to tell it?"

Nero was left baffled at this, not knowing what to say. Vergil, on the other hand, seemed angered.

"Tell it, I do not care for his feelings." he growled, gripping Yamato tighter behind his back.

"It is not your choice." she retorted, white eyes inflaming.

"I want to know…" Nero suddenly butted, making the woman start, but smile.

"Very well. If you are sure…"

"Yes."

She smiled again, before patting his shoulder, and moving away from him to walk placidly as she began.

"Your mother was a subject of experimentation. She was taken in by a religious cult when they discovered that she was pregnant. She was a priestess, like Sparda's wife, however this cult believed that she had betrayed God by giving away her virginity. Of course, you were the result of the conceive, waiting in her womb. Since the cult saw her as impure they decided that they could use her for their tests. They injected her with a rare serum…which they continued to do, to no avail. Her blood did not show signs of change, and neither did your unborn self. But soon after, before your time of birth, they found their resolve. A high-class of demon, apparently from Temen-Ni-Gru, stumbled across them…and somehow, they discovered that this demon's blood was as pure as Sparda's himself. The demon was a strange species, a species that inhales and stores the blood of those it fights. Therefore, the poor beast must have fought Sparda in its time of life…perhaps when Sparda shut the hell gates, I do not know. But what I do know is that the cult separated every different type of blood that the demon had in its system, and eventually found Sparda's. They then injected your heavily pregnant mother with the blood, and due to her incapability to absorb demonic essence, they knew that you would. And when you were born…success. You were everything they were hoping for. A perfect clone of the dark knight himself. Besides your mother's human blood, which was almost non-existent by the time they were finished with her. Alas…" she turned to Vergil "the son of Sparda has destroyed the cult's efforts by stealing your power." She sounded most accusing.

It looked as though Vergil might actually be feeling guilt. But when a sudden, small smile graced his lips, it was obvious that he was not feeling regret. Besides, in Vergil's eyes this was not his fault. It was Yamato who had stripped the boy of his power, but still, he would not have cared either way.

So…that means that my father's legacy now lives within me. Everything I have fought for, every attempt I have made against Dante, against humanity itself…it has finally paid off. I now have it…that which was rightfully mine in the first place. Just like that.

The demoness smiled at his thinking, and answered his inner statement.

"No, Vergil, you do not have all that you wished for. If you were truly destined to inherit everything your father had, do you not think you would have gained it by now?"

He paused, face breaking into moody confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You have everything that Sparda had. Strength, determination, and fire. But there is one thing you lack…and that is heart. You have no feelings; you are raw, cold and harsh. As long as you harbour this trait, you shall never walk in your father's footsteps. You are, in a word, far to demonic."

Vergil breathed heavily, for every word of her speech had ripped at his shard of small hope. He could feel himself boiling, rage taking over.

"Too demonic? My father came from hell, so how can you say he wasn't demonic?"

"Your father loved your mother; a human love. Something that I or any other demon could never do. It is against our very existence, but your father was able to feel. And that is his legacy…to be able to live with strength, but also, feelings. He wanted his sons to be more human, like your mother…Dante can feel, but his flaw is weakness."

"Cant disagree with you there…"

"Yes. But do you not see? This boy is the living embodiment of Sparda…why do you think he is able to love?"

Nero suddenly awoke.

"How do you know about Kyr-?"

"I know most things, young one, and you love that girl more than life itself…just like Sparda loved his jewel, Eva."

Vergil considered this. The boy had a love, yes, he knew that…but did that make him more like his father than he himself?

He…Sparda's own son?

But Vergil did feel. Not love, but he could feel. Of course it was hidden far below the surface of his morality, so deep that even the Harlequin could not see it.

But perhaps…

If he learnt to give into such emotions…

Nero's power, or rather his father's, could finally be his for the taking…then maybe, he could learn to keep a good hold of it.

But there was no one that Vergil loved. He had loved his mother fondly, and his father deeply…but they were gone. And as for Dante, well, he was a lost cause in Vergil's eyes. He was sure that he did not love his brother, not anymore at least. Or rather, he did not think that he felt for Dante anymore.

Then she walked into his head…

That girl…so strong, yet so unbeknownstly innocent, and determined.

So untainted, and different…

Vergil's head slowly moved up, and he let his hands fall from the dip of his back, to his sides.

"We must go. Back to the door, boy."

Nero seemed to hesitate a little, but was forced to turn as Vergil's hand grabbed his arm, yet again.

"Wait!" the young man yelled, pulling his weak, demonic arm from Vergil, making the elder frown. He turned to face the demoness again.

"Can you tell me…what happened to my mother? What did those bastards do to her?"

The demoness blinked, before her beautiful lips separated.

"She died immediately after giving birth to you."

He gazed at her gravely for a moment, before hopelessness took over his face, his hair falling down over his eyes as he tilted his head towards the ground.

"Sorrow not." the Harlequin reassured, though she sounded morbid. "It was for the best…if she had not died, they would only have killed her, and that would not have been kind. Not only would she have had to endure more pain, but she would have had to watch them take you away."

"Yea." Nero replied, swiping his nose with his hand. He was not crying, but it seemed like he wanted to.

"So what about my arm…?"

Her brows furrowed somewhat, for she did not know how to answer this.

"That is a question I have yet to find a resolve to. Your arm is a complex thing, and I can only guess that it is due to the opposing energy of demon and human within you…for now that your demonic heritage has departed from your body, your arm only boasts the shape of a demon's, but it has no power at all. That is all I can say, and it may not even be true."

Nero's eyes were like saucers by now, but Vergil had heard enough.

"Come!" he barked again, grabbing Nero and pulling him towards the door.

And as they left, Nero turned back, a view of the demoness meeting him one more time…and she caught his eye with a wink.

But an even bigger surprise was given to him, s Vergil suddenly threw him into the glass wall with such force that the mirror cracked, and Nero yelled.

In a flash, Yamato had left its sheath, now pressed hard against Nero's neck.

He gasped, but his mind told him to be brave. He growled into Vergil's face; the elder pinning him there with the weapon.

"Listen…because I have a plan." the elder said coldly, his mouth curling.

"Fuck you, I've had enough of-!"

But he was silenced as Vergil kneed him, the younger gasping for air to keep the pain at bay.

"I said listen. Now, you will return to Dante…and you will tell him nothing. He will not know about this, about what you have learnt today, not an ounce of information. And if you disobey me, I will walk into his shop, kill him, and kill you in the most painful way I think up…but not before I slaughter your lover."

A fearful look took Nero, and he began to shake. He knew that Vergil was not joking…not at all. And something told him that he could track Kyrie down easily; Dante had always been able to find Nero when it came to missions, and he was sure that Vergil could do the same. He could probably find anyone, no matter where. His determination was will enough.

"While your in Dante's company, you will do everything that I tell you…and you know the consequences if not. Understand?"

The younger blinked, and nodded again. Slowly, Vergil backed off with a smile.

"Good." he said, sheathing his katana. "Glad we've established that."