The neon glow of the three-worded sign twinkled through the darkness, cutting shadow. Mixed with the light of the moon, the 'D' of the first word 'Devil' flashed now and again, joining blackness before shining vibrantly in red.
"Devil May Cry…" Vergil whispered under his breath, hardly audible.
He tensed.
Intense.
That's what it was.
The mere feel of those three words rolling off his tongue. Every syllable living within the pure irony, the deepest depth the meaning the letters gave…it enraged him. That somehow, in Dante's vision, a devil could cry…
Vergil knew it be true, for even the Harlequin had boasted it. That Dante's persona was weak…and Vergil could even see, in his imagination, the tears imprisoning the past they had shared rolling down his dear brother's cheeks. He imagined that his pathetic brother had cried every day since his passing.
He suddenly rejoined the world when he heard a whimper from beside him.
"Dante…" the young voice of the male came out, an almost silent plea. As though he were calling to the hunter inside the nearby shop, begging him to hear…wanting to be saved so very badly.
Vergil glanced to his side, watching Nero's lips move in a condemning manner under the shadow concealing his face. He had ordered the young man to make use of that red hood after they had left the Harlequin, and of course, he had complied. The cloth now slept on his head, hiding him from the few onlookers they had come across as they ventured through Fortuna, until they had finally left the city behind them and were now standing outside their destination; Dante's agency.
Vergil found it deathly disturbing…he could not accept the truth. Then again, he had not tried to. But it just seemed too unreal, otherworldly. It was near impossible to believe that this boy…this pathetic, worthless, humane male was, in fact, based upon the memory of his father; that the young one's existence actually had no larger purpose other than to embody Sparda.
Pitiful, really.
Without a word of warning, the elder shifted his arm up, grabbing Nero's crimson hood quickly before pulling it back to reveal his face. The boy gasped in surprise, then he growled, brow furrowing due to the dug-up contempt he felt for Vergil…his eyes were practically burning into the elder, besides the fact that he looked disturbed on the surface.
Unfazed, Vergil's expression hardened, before he slowly shifted a hand to the blade strapped to his back. He unlatched the Red Queen from the hold there, handing it over to Nero, who passed him an odd expression.
"Why are-?" the young one began, his eyes becoming huge, but Vergil interrupted with icy sharpness; a razor tone that ripped the boys words apart from each other, condemning them to die in the air.
"Oh, please. Even you cannot be so dim…Dante will notice if you do not have your weapons with you." he explained, flicking the Blue Rose revolver out of his coat as he went. He had confiscated the young one's weapons back at Fortuna Castle without his knowing. "He shall want to know what has happened to your arms. So here…" he handed him the Blue Rose, not interested in the gun. Nero took it timidly, blinking with awe. He noticed that Vergil had paused though, so he shifted his sight over to the elder, surprised by his thoughtful yet interested glare. He was eyeing Nero's sword carefully, moving his wrist with the motion of the handle's spin, gently.
The icy man twisted the Red Queen's handle, the device rumbling lowly as the fuel pumped through the injection system. His eyes seemed to light up at that, mouth creeping open to speak, yet with oblique intentions.
"Where did you get this?" he mumbled lowly, raising the weapon higher to examine with the aid of the moon's brilliance beating down upon its metal, giving it a polish.
"I…" Nero cleared his throat, nervous. It was not like Vergil to show enthusiasm in him or his possessions; Nero had been with him long enough to know that now. "…this order I work for gave me the blade, but I customized it with the device…helps with power and acceleration against speedy enemies." he practically whispered, but still, Vergil distinctively caught every word.
"I imagine…" he mused, flicking the blade again. "She seems to be very balanced for such a hefty looking thing…light. Not the most appealing piece, but still, useful. The ignition deals damage, I assume, and the metal itself is not of the best quality…still, you have obviously enhanced it by sharpening. The scratches embedded within tell me you are reckless, however…"
He stopped, his mouth dry. He was not meant to say all that, mainly because those words had just been running thoughts, accidentally spoken aloud. And although Nero was not looking at him, he knew that the boy was wondering what on earth had just gotten into his captor.
So Vergil cleared his throat, pushing the Red Queen towards Nero to take. He scolded himself for talking, for he knew that it had been a mistake. It had shown the boy that Vergil had interests; fascinations. That he did have some human traits left in him…
He swore that he would not make that mistake again. Mistakes were not meant for him; flaws are for those with a conscious.
But Vergil knew that could not last long, for if he were to be more like Sparda, he would have to learn to accept a conscious, but even so, he would still fight to keep those imperfections at bay.
"What about Yamato?" Nero's words penetrated his thoughts suddenly, making him frown, but he immediately understood what the boy meant. He clutched Yamato tightly with one hand, like a father protecting his child.
"I have been apart from my sword for far too long, and I have no intentions of giving it back."
"But, won't Dante wonder-"
"Let him." Vergil interrupted with a snap, silencing Nero quickly, like an axe to the neck. "If he asks, then you shall tell him you were attacked in Fortuna, you fell unconscious, and when you awoke the sword was gone. Simple and bordering on truth." he added at the end, a deviant whisper. Gazing up he caught sight of the full moon before turning back to Nero. "Now, repeat back to me what you will do, but will not say."
Taking in a deep breath, Nero began, fighting back tears…
"I…I must not tell Dante that I have met you or seen you under any circumstances…"
Yes, because that's Lady's job… thought Vergil, in-between Nero's words.
"…and tomorrow night…" the boy took a fighting breath, finding it hard to maintain composure. "I-I ask Lady if she…she'll take a walk with me….and I…"
"Bring her to me." Vergil finished a cracking growl of hunger.
Nero only nodded as a response. He had been consumed by guilt ever since Vergil had conveyed the plan to him, and it only seemed to be getting worse…if Dante ever knew…oh, Nero did not even want to think about it, and he had not even carried out Vergil's cruel plan yet.
And Lady…Lady would suffer because of him. His cowardly surrender.
"Go now…" Vergil stated clearly, and with a strangled gasp, Nero walked up the steps of Devil May Cry, opening and entering one of the double-doors without a guilty glance backward.
Vergil did not stand and wait to hear Dante's predicted cry of surprise ring out. He turned swiftly, his coat tails flowing, and slowly walked back through the midnight street. He had seen the boy enter and that was enough. He knew that the plan was now in motion. He needed no other proof.
And he could not wait…he was looking forward to everything that was about to unfold. The next day would be a fun one, he thought, and the look on Lady's face should be prize enough for all his efforts.
Then again, he wondered what she might think. What she might say…he didn't really know her or understand her enough to interpret.
Lady was one of them humans, how would you put it? The only word fitting enough that Vergil could think up was 'fabled.' She was just so…different. Fresh. But still, sour, sardonic. And the issues she had, they were overwhelming.
Correction, Vergil thought, 'Lady is issues.'
He didn't really need to know her all that well to understand it. But he remembered that time in Temen-Ni-Gru, how determined to succeed she had been, determined to kill her psychopathic father, Arkham. Though Vergil had never cared to wonder why she wanted revenge…it was, after all, common sense he supposed. She had probably desired justice since her vindictive father had killed her dear mother, the only true family she had ever possessed. He could not really say that he had not felt the same gorging fire of loathing when his own mother had passed before her time.
At least they had that in common…fire.
That fire could bond, mould, and brand…as long as he made it possible.
"It shall be no easy task…" he murmured with thoughtfulness, his resounding footsteps the only means of an answer he received. The silence spoke to him, and so solace came as a gift not a burden, for he could hear the night's every whim, every desire. And he shared those same ambitions. Darkness to Vergil never seemed frightening; he thought it beautiful. The deep blackness, his comforter. The sparkling stars, his guardians. The motherly moon, his mistress. And their radiance was all he ever needed within his small world of appreciation.
Few things he gazed upon were easy on his eye, for he cared not for looks, and he was not very aware of his own beauty either. All he had ever known was that he was different from others; always had been, always would be. He was even unique compared to Dante. And since he had left hell behind him, he had noticed his newness more…and he had begun to like it. The feel of energy that would rush through him with each new sight, each new smell…it was predatory.
He had always been somewhat animalistic. Not in a bloodthirsty sense, but judgmentally. He had long discovered that humans were beings that challenged all sins, and would eventually condemn themselves without realizing; merely because their own desires would turn on them, cloaking them in some terrible death, be it by its fate's own hand or his.
Humans are far too inquisitive for their own good; another point that made them completely unbearable in Vergil's eyes.
And yet, it made Lady all the more addictive…
He took a moment for his thoughts to set, slowing to a steady halt to allow his mind a rest. He had much to consider, and it was somewhat a challenge for even him. His feet came together in unity, his elegant coat tails joining the gathering with a welcoming pat against his legs.
Plucking his head up, the royal blue of his inner-eye flashed with the given shine of the moon, blinding him momentarily.
It was this illusion that made him pause…
Shadows were indeed haunting things but Vergil knew that his brain was far too complex to fall for the tricks that humans usually succumbed to. Products of the imagination fear of the unknown; these were things that could not possibly visit him. He had been to hell, hell itself…
Nothing scared him.
But still, the present interest, fabled and ghostly as it was, could not fool Vergil's eyes. It was no phantom, nor spirit; it was real. As real as he or the moon. The white light from above spotlighted the being stood atop an on-looking building, which presented itself as a mere silhouette. Still, it was there, as bold as brass.
He gazed up, without hesitation, without reason. Although he could not see the eyes of the spirit-like woman, a step closer to the night sky than he, he sensed her stare…fancied with certainty that she was eyeing him.
He did not reach for Yamato, for he did not feel the need to touch its electric metal. He somehow doubted that he would be fighting…
And yet, how interesting this impostor was.
She was most certainly a demon, make no mistake. But she seemed to be quite remarkable and different. Similar to the Harlequin from this distance. Her form, although far away and hard to see, was human and shaped beautifully. The moonlight carved out her perfectly curved body, gleaming over the parts of her skin unadorned by clothing. Her legs were covered in shapely leather pants, and her top half seemed wrapped from breasts to navel. Her hair, exceedingly long, swayed down her back and flowed in the breeze, the brilliance from above hinting that she was fair.
But her pose…it was odd. He could not help but think that for a demon she had insolence. All demons feared him; it was a known fact in hell, and even the human world. He was the only one of Mundus' past servants to have escaped, rampaging through hell later with a horrific thirst for vengeance, slamming his enemies into Death Valley without an incline of mercy. And yet, there she was, this woman, standing there, with a hand on her hip and a stance that screamed 'cocky'.
She continued to look down on him, which Vergil did not see fitting, before pushing her back out lazily and laying her other hand on her side. It was almost as though she were challenging him to do something.
But he did not. He saw no need.
With a flash that he had been expecting, her powers seemed to react due to her impatience, he presumed. Small trickles of blue lights sprinkled her body like fairies, before becoming more vivid. From what Vergil could see, she possessed…lightning.
Although her entire being had begun to spark in turns, blazing through the shadows, she still did not come down.
It did not surprise him when she turned on her heel, and walked away from his view.
Sighing, he continued along his way, completely unfazed…
But he made note, just in case…
"A demon who can manipulate lightning…" his whisper came out with small audibility, and he blinked as he reminded himself that he would have to remember this piece of information; just in case it came back to haunt him.
The door clipped behind Nero with a bare lock, empty to his ears.
He did not want to look…he did not want to listen, see, or feel. His heart seemed to be in immense pain, throwing itself against his ribcage, beating at breakneck speed.
"Lady, is that you?"
He gasped, chest tight. His white fist met the handle of the door, and gripped onto it so tightly that the metal bended inwards.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…
He cringed as the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the back room that he knew so well, a place where he found comfort.
Used to. Now he wanted to be anywhere else, anywhere, even if it meant being skewered by Vergil's katana.
"Lady, y- you…I wanna…answer, today, would be…nice!" An uneven voice cracked from the doorway, the footsteps more clumsy, hitting the ground with un-zinced rhythm. Like a lame racehorse, having to stumble back to the stable after a grueling challenge.
"Oh Jesus…" Nero whispered, wanting nothing more other than the ground to swallow him up, there and then. And in that rivaled instant, a drunken Dante stepped into the doorway of the backroom.
Damn. He really was pissed.
A bottle with a ravaged label that used to read snakebite lay bedded in his fist, his arm steadying him against the wall, head low and eyelids drooping. He had long lost his shirt, it was certain, for spill-marks were tattooed all over his sublime pectorals, running over every muscle with a clinging stick.
Nero sighed, somewhat relieved. Usually he would not have appreciated having to take care of a drunken Dante, but this was almost a relief. He would not have to explain anything, and if he did, Dante would only forget…
…it was Lady he now had to worry about.
"Uh…hi, Dante." he murmured, an experimental tone dusting his sound. The elder brought his head up at that, and gazed at him with a rather ill expression, his eyes unfocused, blinking rapidly.
In an almost secretive whisper, Dante wobbled, commenting "You're not Lady…oops."
Nero sighed, gritting his teeth. So typical Dante. He needed him more than ever now, even if he could not be honest with him, but still, Dante had managed to cock it up. Again.
Nero supposed he should not be too hard on him…after all, making a mess was Dante's forte.
"You're really ploughed, huh?" Nero pressed lowly, fore burrowing with frustration.
Dante seemed to find this insulting, and shook his bottle vigorously, almost falling while doing so.
"No, I'm n…not…" he then smiled, his brows cocking up, and he let go of the wall, spinning around in a wobbly circle, speaking with a thick, Italian accent. "Ima just havin' a ball!"
"Someone shoot me…" Nero couldn't help but murmur, walking over to Dante, before he had to step back as the elder tumbled to the ground with a loud YYEEAAAAA!
The foolish elder grinned up at Nero, saluting him with his leaking bottle.
"Top of the morning!" he yelled, sending the bottle's throat half way down his neck, happily snorting like a piglet in a paradise of mud.
Nero merely blinked; he was used to this, though he really didn't need it at that moment. His face did not draw into a smile, and he turned his view away from the glowing elder with a pained puff of his chest.
"Hey…why the long face, Seabiscuit?" Dante commented, trying to be cool by leveling one eyebrow up higher than the other. He failed.
Nero looked down on him again, considering.
…I can't believe it…
He sighed heavily, eyes dimming, becoming disturbingly uncharacteristic. But Dante could see nothing other than a blur of shapes, the alcohol's vision. If he had been able to witness it though, he would have seen that someone had reached into Nero's soul and stolen his blue spark and fire.
Ironic that Dante could not see it, nor accept his brother's return…completely oblivious, and utterly blinded.
Nero entwined his arm under Dante's pit, pulling him up and taking him over to the red leather couch.
He let him go, allowing the elder to flop onto the leather, where he instantly fell into a deep sleep.
Rubbing his temple, Nero decided that he should work on the…plan.
Still, he could not believe it.
…betray Dante…I will have to betray Dante…
…and Lady…
Whilst he stood there, he could not help but feel envious though. For Dante would sleep well tonight.
Nero would not.
Lady's blue bruises groaned due to the ache of her walking forward, her feet swelling in their boots, rubbing up against the leather. With every stride she took, her footsteps embraced the ground with quaking pain, her back complaining due to Kalina Ann's immense weight pulling down on her muscles. Hours had slipped through her hands like water, and since she had not thought to bring a watch with her, she had no idea what time it was, factually. She could only guess and judge by watching the night, twilight's effects diming slowly as daybreak began to chase the darkness away, leaving the tear-drop stars and full, amble moon to vanish at their own pace. By now, she guessed, it must have been pushing onto five A.M, and still, she was chasing dawn's dusk.
She took in a tired breath, willing it to regenerate some of her lost strength. It did not work, in fact, it only made rest a more tempting prosper.
It was insane, really. She had been walking for nearly nineteen hours, determined to find him. Or rather, both of them. She had thought that by walking, she would be able to notice things with a keener view; find them easily. Of course, she had been incorrect...she now wanted her bike more than anything. She missed the comfortable leather seat and the stimulating acceleration it had to offer. She had long left Fortuna Castle after sweeping it intently, long left the snow drenched ground of its area, long left behind that cold, bitter breeze that had cleansed her hot, flushed face.
The cold had given her odd thoughts. It had made her think of...him.
He was unbearably frozen, she remembered that about him. His face, the craftsmanship of angels. His eyes, how they glowed and burned like fire and ice combined. The most frightening stare she had ever received had been born from those pupils, and yet, they still ached with beauty.
It just made her hate him more; not to mention herself.
His haunting silence clung to her bones, his icy breath still printed on her lips from the time, only days ago, when he had dared to stand so close to her.
Bastard. When she saw him next she would kill him; throw her bayonet through his head, and shoot a vicious flourish of bullets through his chest. She didn't care. As long as he perished, painfully, it would all turn out great...at least, that's what Lady kept telling herself. Her loathing towards him had suddenly emerged from a void, but there were plenty of explanations for her bitter feelings. For one thing, he had taken Nero and practically used him to blackmail her. And, as for the other reasons, well, a week ago Lady knew nothing of Vergil, except for their encounters in Temen-Ni-Gru. Of course, they had treated each other like enemies, and so introductions had not been given, conversation had not been shared.
But now, suddenly, this strange man had returned, and, somehow...it seemed they had a connection. Even if unspoken, it was there. He had given off a cruel notion, but all the same, a notion of introduction, of interest. And, though Lady wanted to shoot herself for it, she felt curious...
How did it happen? Why now?
...Why could he not be normal?
Why could he not just make amends with Dante? Dante would do so...he didn't even need an apology, though Dante felt as though he owed one to Vergil more...all the same, Lady knew he loved his twin, and missed him.
But why did Vergil insist upon this shit? Was it game? A fucking pleasure or something? She felt crowded all the time, like he was there, laughing at her attempt to track him down, hoping to save Nero from his clutches. She felt like Vergil enjoyed doing this sort of thing though...little did he realise that it did not scare her, it just pissed her off. Personally, she found it to be annoying, and she would kick his ass straight back to hell if she ever set eyes on him again. She growled when she remembered that she was not getting paid for this, either.
Taking another breath, Lady came to a tired halt at the entrance of Fortuna's business district. She took up a few minutes for herself; slouching her pose, stretching her legs out, flicking through her ebony layers of hair. After a little while she adjusted Kalina Ann and entered the district.
Fortuna's lawyers came here to the district commonly, usually to show up with clients in court. As Lady entered, it seemed to resemble that of an estate, with a small grass verge centred in the middle, signs pointing in different directions. One to the library, the other to the opera house, and a few pointing to the basic places like the cafes and restaurants.
Lady quite liked it here. It was actually a busy place, and she came here often, usually to bank her money. But at this hour of the morning no one was about...and it was beautiful. The sun had finally built up enough courage to aid the world in light again, and so it rose above the buildings of the city.
Lady sighed, flopping down onto one of the benches bordering the grass. Dainty flowers adorned the edges of the wooden armrests, but she slapped them away, making room for her weary body to sit and recuperate for an hour or so.
She started fixing plans in her head, wondering. Unbeknownst even to herself, her words escaped her mouth.
"Just set here a while...try not to sleep. That would be embarrassing for the law firm to see. Maybe go to the bank later, cash in. Go home...bath...yea that would be nice. Call Dante...not so nice. Sleep...eat...actually, I could grab a coffee before I head home..."
"How fascinating."
The hours of walking seemed to have paid off, for her body instinctively bolted up. She jumped to her feet, and within seconds, two of her hand guns were out, her body swirling at whirlwind speed towards the voice.
She had expected it. But still, when she saw him, it brought on new shock. Her head was spinning like a giant roulette wheel, and for a moment, Lady forgot how to breathe.
"Vergil..." she found that she was growling.
She might have believed him to be a dream at first, his body a mirage. He stood by the side of the grass, posture built up tall and unyielding. What with the rising sun behind him, melting away his paleness, he looked almost transparent. But somehow, he looked more real to Lady now than he had the last time she had seen him.
She could not see Yamato, and it worried her. Lady could do without a nasty surprise, she was stressed enough as it was. And oddly, he didn't look very threatening now.
That worried her more.
He did not smile, but he made a slight move that indicated his desire to walk. Lady embraced her guns harder, but flicked her head, showing him that he could move and she would not shoot...yet.
He looked away for a moment before gazing back feebly, interest stalking over his expression.
"You don't have your glasses with you today." He said observantly, just as though he were introducing conversation.
She glared at him viciously, her eyes flashing, the maroon in one becoming awfully vibrant.
"What the hell are you playing at?" she hissed, thrusting a gun his way. He shied, like a child playing hide and seek, hauntingly fabled. She swore she saw him hide a twitchy grin away, and that provoked her hands to cock both of her weapons up.
"Give me Nero, now." She seethed violently, slowly, with danger in her voice.
"What makes you so sure he's here? I suggest you phone Dante. He should be able to tell you where the boy is...that is, if he has recovered from his drunken laps."
His words confused her. She was too tired and tempered for his oblique statements.
"Stop playing with my thoughts! I know that you had him, so he must still be with you! Give him back; he can't benefit you in any way!"
He half sneered this time, or was it a laugh?
"You know, for such an intelligent woman, you really do let the obvious pass you by. You just said 'had him', insinuating that, yes, I did have him, but in past tense. Meaning now, in present tense, the boy is not with me. You let your father do that to you too, I remember. The fool told you that it was me who 'possessed' him into doing that which he was against...and you believed him, thinking your dear daddy might return."
She felt like killing him a hundred times over, and even he expected her to lose the plot...he was rather impressed when she stayed calm, content.
"Yea, well, F.Y.I fucker, I killed my father in the end...it was the single hardest thing I've ever done, but I did it. So don't treat me like I'm weak!"
Oddly enough, this triggered Vergil's anger.
"I never said you were weak...merely non-observant." He sneered, eyes shrinking to slits.
They shared a hatful, burning look for at least five minutes. Finally, Lady lowered a gun, but only one.
"I think I'm obligated to an explanation, demon." She grumbled, remembering back to the time when she had called Dante a demon, hinting him to be an emotionless being that could not understand her pain.
"It's complicated. For one thing, we were not meant to meet this morning. We were meant to meet tonight. The pathetic clone-boy made a mistake..."
Lady blinked, confused and startled.
"Wait...what? Meet? I was trying to track you down to burn you, not share tea and cakes!"
He raised an amused brow before shaking his head, platinum hair glistening with a sparkling yellow tinge due to the strengthening sunlight.
"I wanted it to be tonight...as I would of been prepared, and I would of had more leverage on my side. However, circumstance presenting..."
He suddenly unsheathed Yamato with lightning precision, he blade finally coming into view from behind his back, and in less than one-quarter of a second, it was upon her throat, ready to tear flesh. Yet, in turn, and to his great surprise, she had her gun up to his head, and not her handgun, but Kalina Ann.
"That's rather impressive." He mused, cocking his head slightly, looking her up and down with interest. She hated his eyes undressing her like that...she growled hotly, holding back the desire to hock on his boot.
"Spit out the leverage, condition, whatever you want..." she said lowly, never taking her stare away from his.
"The boy shall be left alone, and I shall never lay a finger on him again...if you come with me."
She blinked, falling apart. He sensed her despair.
Why did he suddenly feel guilty? Guilt is not meant for the strong...
"Lady?"
He had not wanted to say her name, not so softly anyhow. If it were anyone else, he would have said 'well?' or 'hurry.' Yet this was she, Lady, and he had to do things with detailed precaution.
"...What for? Why come with you?" she fired back, regaining rage.
He breathed tightly.
"If you don't then I take it I can go ahead and destroy Dante, the boy, and his lover...plus, that blond demoness who looks too much like my mother could do with a lesson in manners."
She wanted so badly to refuse him and shoot, run away...
But it was something in his eyes that held her back, something that seared through her. It spoke with loneliness, with sadness and pain.
The three feelings that made Lady who she was...loneliness, sadness, and pain. And still, even when she saw them in this man, so dangerous and full of hate, she could not turn her back on those feelings.
Soberly, she nodded.
In acceptance, he sheathed his Katana.
"I still don't get what you want me to do..."
"You are not meant to."
"But I don't want to be some prisoner, Vergil, and I won't be! When I want out, I get out..."
"Fine, but if you don't return, Dante will die...and the boy and girl..."
"But why me? What am I suppost to do?" her voice soothed, soft and narrative. Innocent as her question, quiet as a whisper.
He watched her thoughtfully for a moment, a little unbelieving. How was she so human?
"Simply..." he said, turning away from her since he could not say it to her face "...accept me."