The cool air of morning whispered through the windows of Devil May Cry, carrying a divine secret. Unheard and unfelt by the life within, the curtains revelled in their whispering pulse, slowly flowing in a gentle dance.
The shop was quiet, and Nero fell into the background; so statuesque that if a customer had intruded, they surly would not have noticed him there. In all his time of thinking, of stewing over the rippling memories of Vergil's recent impact upon his life, Nero had to remind himself to breath, and blink, and do a manner of things that were altogether an essential part of his existence. But everything was harder now...everything was scarred, torn, and broken. Living was now a burden.
He sat, in the darkest corner that the shop had to offer, in a leather armchair that he had pushed up against the wall. It had not been easy...before he could have just tossed its hefty weight about easily with the use of his devil-bringer, but now that it was dead, he could not. He had crumbled whilst trying to move the furniture, his back slumping, falling beneath him as he tried to push the armchair. In the end he had become so frustrated that he had pulled the Red Queen out, and with one cracking rev of its igniter, threw the blade against the leather and forced it into the corner. But the devil-bringer was, even to his own surprise, sorely missed. He felt mighty insecure without it, a hell of a lot more hollow, and his vulnerability now extended with no end. How ironic, he thought, that he missed it so much, when he had once cursed God's pure name for bestowing it on him.
His sea-glass eyes had been ajar for so long that they had actually changed colour, becoming paler, due to his failure to blink. His arms were like rocks, gripping the leather of his worldly chair so hard that they shook slightly, and his face remained set in stone. His expression would contort every now and then; believing he had come to a conclusion, but then realising that there really was no way out of this hell.
And then, as though the devil himself had come calling, the bell above the door of Devil May Cry rang in a sleepy manner, and someone moved the portal aside. The youth in the chair winced, finally crashing back down to earth and he snatched up his sword, pulling it hard against his chest as he awaited, prepared for the worst...
...An elegant figure flaunted through the doorway, black leather clinging to flesh. High heeled boots clinked against old wood, and blonde hair cascaded down in rivers. At first Nero did not recognise the being, what with him shrouded by the corner's shadows. But then, he remembered her, and his heart leapt a mile.
He vaulted out of the chair, skidding over to her like a child that had finally found its lost mother. His chest crashed into hers, his arms holding her to him furiously. He heard her gasp with miscomprehension, her hands held up in surprise. He burrowed his head into her shoulder, feeling his body crumble with each passing second...he would surly die of despair, but oh, why could his demise not claim him quickly? Her own body did not fall...and finally, she patted his back, still misunderstanding Nero's completely unprovoked gesture.
"Trish..." he mumbled into her sunlight hair, pushing his head into her shoulder hard...not as a friend or lover would do, but as an infant in desperate pain might. "Thank God...too long, too long, too long..." he whispered those two words on and on, beginning to shake with anguish.
"Nero...?" she hesitated, not knowing what to do. What was wrong with him? This kid...so headstrong usually, as cocky as Dante, and so brave that he would happily strut into hell with a smirk on his face. And now, reduced to this? This whimpering boy, so crumbled that she was sure that he had shrunk at least five inches in height. "What's wrong, kid? You saw Dante naked or something?" she laughed forcefully, trying to create an atmosphere of light-heartedness...she failed. The young man drew in a painful breath, and he felt like he might just tear apart. The guilt was finally all too much, and he knew that he could not await Lady...to take her to that...that...bastard!
"Hey, Nero, come on! I just got back, I haven't seen you in weeks...what's going on? You're worrying me..." she sighed, pulling him up with her arms, and shaking him a little. His head remained low and his eyes were hidden by his hair. He did not look at her.
"Knew I shouldn't have left things to Dante...I come back, and everyone's dyeing on me. Not to mention Vergil coming back from the dead, how the hell that happened, I got no clue..." she whispered under her breath as she held him, recalling the sight of Dante's twin, only hours ago, at one with the night. She knew it had to be him, of course, for she remembered him well...when she had served Mundus, Vergil had been there, warped of mind. But when she had seen him only a little while ago, he had looked very much in character and in control.
Her self-directed muttering brought Nero back from his guilty slumbering.
"You saw him?" he suddenly cried, and he sounded like he might just collapse. His eyes sprang up to meet her gaze, wide and innocent, yet terrified. He then frantically whispered "So he wasn't a dream..." and his grip on her arm tightened. She opened her mouth to consult him, shook him again...but then he went very limp, and fell against her.
Mouthing her shock, Trish effortlessly pulled the unconscious Nero towards his armchair, letting him fall onto it heavily.
"Lady, that you?" a sudden voice echoed from the floor above, all groggy and tired. Immediately, Trish understood that it was Dante, since his voice was unforgettable, and of course, heavy with liquor. She imagined that his breath smelt like a dustbin...mainly deep-pan cheesy pizza.
She let go of Nero's stone-cold demon arm, and made her way towards the staircase.
"No Dante, it's me..." she did not say her name; Dante would know her sound well enough. "But I think you should get your ass down here...some stuff I need to tell you."
He responded with an excitable edge to his voice, as though she had never left for her reprieve.
"Sure thing, babe."
Trish smiled.
Just like old times...beside the gaping hole that she was about to tear into Dante's chest, what with the news of his twin brother's survival...
They had walked, endlessly, for what seemed like hours...
Lady made a point to stay well behind Vergil; she didn't want to look at the psycho's face, and she especially did not want him to see her. Those eyes of his made her sick. They burned with such intensity that it would feel like her skin was on fire, scolding all her flesh away until it was only her soul that remained. And, Lady, of all people, did not need to be judged or understood by a complete headcase.
She tried to forget that he was even there. And in doing so, she took in her surroundings.
Fortuna city, at night, was actually a rather frightening place. A deep mist followed the curb of the street they were on, rolling aside as Lady swiftly moved each of her defined legs. The buildings on either side looked solemnly empty, and somehow lonely. What with the late hour, everyone must be in bed, she thought, and so there was no flickering light from behind a window to give her hope. It was thoroughly dense, all too quiet, and completely dead. Ironically, however, in this decayed background Vergil could not look more alive...darkness suited him indeed.
He suddenly halted, and Lady copied. He stood very still for a moment, thinking hard, wondering to himself...
This shall take too long, and I have no patience for it...
"We are going to drive, Lady." And through the corner of her eye, she realised that Vergil was not staring into nothingness...he was, in fact, eyeing a very expensive looking ebony Jaguar at the end of the street. Cocking her head, Lady noted where this was going. She frowned.
"You can't steal a car, Vergil..."
He slowly turned to her, and she could not quite tell because of the darkness...but it almost seemed like he was...smirking. He huffed aloud, and she spied his breath roll in delicate waves, illuminated by the cold air.
"I see no sign that says 'do not steal'." He mused, and Lady shook her head in complete disgust. Apparently Vergil noticed, for he contorted his expression in a snobbish fashion that Lady just wanted to blow off with Kalina Ann.
"Do you honestly think that your word is law?" she violently hissed, her hand flailing, and she daringly took a step closer to him. He curled his lip up, trying hard to suppress his dominance.
After all, yes, his word was law...who was she to think otherwise? And she was a woman...
"Lady..." he explained, shaking his head, which only made her angrier. "For the last ten years I have been in Hell. And I should, rightfully, have perished. But I didn't...instead, I ruled that place, and now every demon bids my say. So yes, my word is law."
"Not in this world, demon!" she yelled suddenly, taking another step closer so that she was only a mere inch from his face. "This is the human world, where each person has to fend for themselves...in a way, worse than your stupid Hell! We don't steal and we don't act so fucking pompous, so you're not stealing that damn car! Besides, you don't even know if it's got keys!"
His eyes shrunk to icy slits, and her hands found her hips, and they both stood like that for over a minute. Finally, it seemed to hit home how stupid this argument was...for Vergil, at least.
He took a step back, span around and approached the Jag. But before Lady could say anything, Yamato belled, the Jag lock resounded with a deafening click, and Vergil opened its now dented door. He pushed himself inside the car to retrieve something before pulling back and facing Lady.
In his hand were a set of keys.
Mumbling incoherent cusses to herself, she approached the passenger's side and decided not to argue. Vergil used the same strategy, and elegantly fell into place behind the wheel.
Lady did not miss this smirk, and as they sped off she defiantly whispered to herself "asshole."
A silent Dante sat beside the red couch that accommodated a young man, finally content in had not awoken in hours...and Dante was not sure if he wanted to arouse him. The thought made him kinda...nauseas? Ill? Embarrassed? Ashamed?
He had not realised it, not even when the answer had been right there, under his nose. Lady tried to tell him...but he didn't listen.
Why hadn't he listened? Lady was honest, completely, with his best interests at heart. She would never try to hurt him, ever. At least, not anymore...
He exhaled, hands clapped together in thought. Behind him he heard Trish's heels clinking, and as he slightly turned to look at her, he noticed a glass of water in her hand.
"Here..." she said, lustful waist cocked to one side, her other palm on her hip.
He smiled wearily. "No Jacks? On the rocks? I could do with a Daniels..."
She huffed, slowly pushing herself down to sit beside him.
"Just water...it will do you good." She smiled, moving her head to the side to catch a better look of him, and that beautiful sparkle that he had missed so much glistened in her eye. "For a change."
Sighing, Dante gulped down the pint of clear substance, cold and refreshing against his throat. He wondered though...what would she say if he...?
"Trish..." his voice cracked as he hurried to finish, the pure water suddenly flammable in his stomach. He didn't know how to tell her...and yet, it seemed she already knew...his cerulean eyes met with her sapphire ones.
"You know...I really did miss you."
It was nothing that Trish had not expected, but still, she was flattered. Bending close, she set a humble kiss on his cheek, which inflamed under her lips.
"Yea, I know...but this isn't about me, is it?" she cocked a brow, wondering over his reaction. Trish knew that what they had discussed had been very hard for Dante to take in, but she seemed to have convinced him. Still, his face was suddenly cast in frustration and contempt, the glass almost breaking in his grasp.
"You sure, Trish?" his expression suddenly fell apart, and she understood to an extent. Dante only ever visited his past when he absolutely, completely had to, and now, having to face the fact that...he...was very much alive was like swallowing arsenic, in Dante's mind. He eyed her suspiciously, his mouth lined with hatred and his brow creased with anger. "I can't stop him unless you're sure..."
She put a hand on his knee.
"Dante...Nero has seen him, Lady is now most likely trying to find him again, and I know that I saw him last night...he's back, and you know that I don't lie to you. We have to find him Dante. What if someone like Kyrie were to be influenced-?"
"I know...I'll do it." Dante spat darkly, and in a flash, he was on his toes. He thundered to his desk, and tucked in Ebony and Ivory, Rebellion at his side in a second.
He looked back at her before he made his way to the door.
"I'll be at the Fortuna Inn at 1oclock tomorrow afternoon. Meet me. It's about time I had a family reunion...it won't be the same without you."
Then, somehow, through all the aching in his chest and pain numbing every fibre of his body, he smiled. Of course, smiling always helped, and Vergil of all was not going to bring Dante down...and when he stepped out into the night, he was still grinning; even had a strut to his walk.
Lady now understood why Vergil had insisted upon driving. The road was exceptionally long, winding, and annoyingly sharp. And it was a good job that he was the one doing the driving too...if she had driven whilst he had given her directions, god knows where they would have ended up. Not that Lady was a bad driver. In fact, she would happily wager that she was better than Vergil.
He never took his eyes off the road, at least, not while she was looking at him. But she found that she had become addicted to the view of his cold face. He drove the car casually, one hand on the stirring wheel. And still, while he took on such a human task, he could not look less magnificent. As she'd realised, darkness agreed with him; it made his face look as though it were the lunar-light itself, glowing with a magnetic tinge. His eyes concentrated on the road heavily, and yet, his pupils still clung to that dangerous beauty; like two crystal shards, shining dominantly.
He never spoke, and that satisfied Lady. It meant that she did not need to think of words to use in reply.
He suddenly leaned forward, looking observantly through the windscreen. Lady's curiosity played up as she watched him; she had forgotten that the car was moving, what with his entire aura haunting her.
He didn't really look like Dante. Well, of course he did. But...no, not in the same sense. It seemed that their two very different personalities held their faces in an uncommon grasp. Dante looked far more attractive, physically, than Vergil...but then, Vergil was beautiful, outwardly. Two very unique paths of radiance.
She gazed out of her passenger's side, hoping to see something that indicated towards a destination. But all she saw were the blurred shapes of black, outlined trees, whipping past her window into the abyss.
Sighing, she rubbed her face. Why did he have to be so stupidly mysterious?
"It's alright. We're nearly there." He promised under his breath, though his whisper was hard and, somehow, unsure.
Lady sighed again, frustrated. She noticed that his eyes grew wider for a brief moment as she turned towards him with force.
"I don't need you telling me it's alright." She snapped vigorously, clenching her jaw. "I have to stay with you because you're blackmailing me...as long as I'm here, with you, it won't be alright. So just drive!"
As she turned back to her window, Lady noticed that Vergil's driving hand grasped the wheel in a furious clench.
Typical, he could not help but think. Here he was, making an effort, and she only threw it back in his face? Wretched human...
They were all the same; they did not understand anything. He had been a fool to think that she would be able to relate to him, and an even bigger fool for believing that he could warm to her. Or rather, that she would warm to him.
Vergil let out a discrete breath, hoping that Lady would not notice his frustration flutter through the air. But she did, and with it she noticed that for a moment, his face fell, less than dead.
He snapped back when he saw her visibly wince.
"We're here." He stated as he stole a glance her way, and without warning, he gracefully strode out of the car.
Lady took a moment to realise where they were. Just a foot ahead of the vehicle, a huge set of iron gates were planted, standing tall. The night didn't really help, giving off a gloomy eeriness that conveyed an illusion...that daylight could never return.
"Shit..." she exclaimed to herself, suddenly panicked.
There really was no going back...
Lady could just about see Vergil set close to the side of the gates beside the wall, perhaps punching in a pass code? She was unsure, but after a second he strode back toward the car while the iron behind him crept aside. Vergil pushed the car into acceleration before he had even shut his door.
Slowly, the car travelled down a cobbled path laid at its wheels, perfectly kept lawns on either side. Little trees that had been plucked of stray branches adorned the private path, set in an old Victorian style.
Lady peered into the distance. It took some time for her eyes to catch a glimpse, but she soon realised that, darkly awaiting their arrival, was a house. An absolutely, completely, utterly, huge house...better described as a mansion. The old windows glistened with a dark tint, and the bricks were aged, chipped even. It toward over the sky, making the heavens seem small and pathetic. The large wooden door was more toward the right side of the building, shifted below a tower that flew higher than the rest of its enormous structure.
"You didn't say that we were going to see a haunted house..." Lady grumbled, leaning against her hand before smirking sarcastically.
He didn't reply until he stopped the car. The vehicle stilled, jerking the both of them forward, and he turned to her, a tiny yet evil smile touching his lips.
"Wait until you see what's inside, Lady."
His words failed to startle her; she only became more curious. As he left the car, she copied, making an effort to slam the door. Of course, he had to see her temper...she was pissed off, and he ought to know it too.
With the enthusiasm of an old woman making her way into a nursing home, Lady shifted uncomfortably down the path, Vergil only a step behind her. His gait was flawless, she could even hear the perfection ringing in his steps. With each move he made, it matched Lady's sync exactly. Growling with exasperation, Lady quickened, and Vergil smiled...
He stepped ahead of her easily, before forcefully taking her unsuspecting arm into his own, wrapping it in his overbearing embrace. He saw her eyes flash, and pulled his brows closer together, showing off his relentlessness.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lady murmured, but did not try to escape him.
"Once you realise where you are, you will hate me to an insatiable degree. Therefore, I think it best that I'm good to you before you try to kill me." With that thought to stew over, Lady's face pulled into thinking...and Vergil had to suppress a feeling that was altogether, very male. A sense of ownership and mixed admiration, almost an obligation, to protect and hold this woman. Was it the way her lush mouth pouted? How her eyes were so fitting, although bi-coloured? How her face was so delicate, so breakable, that even a frown seemed enough to crack through her innocence? Was it really these beautiful details that enthralled him so?
He did not understand his emotions very well...he never had...
He needed more time...
And yet, here she was, with her bouncing pulse and beating heart, stealing that all too precious time away from him.
He noticed that she fingered one of her hand guns as they approached the door.
And of course, Vergil did not knock...did not see the point. He pushed the huge door aside with a single nudge, and suddenly, Lady was thrown into a world of light.
She gazed at the surroundings, for a moment, perplexed...
...and then it hit her.
It was cold, harsh, and cruel in every possible stretch of the imagination. Even for him, it was low...Lady's blood boiled within her as she slowly turned to the despicable man behind her, and just as he predicted, she metaphorically planned his death-note...with the aim of her huge bazooka, ready to blast his skull to pieces.
"You brought me here?" she whispered, a voice full of disbelief and pure, mangled hatred.
All Vergil could do was nod. He knew that now was not the time to motivate her masochistic mood with words that, no matter how honeyed, could ever fix Lady's heart. And of course...Vergil knew no kind word.
She suddenly let out a distorted laugh, and he could already hear the tears in her throat, threatening her. But she would not let them spill...never. Not in front of Vergil. He would like to see her suffer due to his cause, she was sure, but such a man was not worth it.
"Your...you bastard!" she exclaimed, the only word that she could think up. "You brought me here, of all places! My home? My mother was killed in this house, by my own father! And you knew it!"
Vergil found himself sighing, and he steered away from the shaking woman, realising that he had approached this incorrectly. But she was here, and that's what mattered...her pain was none of his concern.
"I brought you here simply because it is where I lived before I succumbed to Hell, while I was still an ally of Arkham...and for the last few days, I have planned my return since the house is empty and still furnished."
"I don't give a fuck about furniture!" she suddenly screamed, and, to even his own great surprise, Kalina Ann released a huge bazooka. The ammunition sped towards him, but he only stepped to the side, unleashed Yamato, ad cut through the bellowing steel that skimmed him by an inch.
"Lady-"he steered, her preferred name slipping from him, but it made no difference. Lady had finally hit her brick wall of desperation, and to be locked in the house where her blackest nightmares had always called for her, was never going to happen. Not if she could help it.
Vergil measured in his mind. The door was behind him...so he had the upper hand. If he got her into one of the many rooms and locked her there, he would not have to deal with her hate. But that would not be easy. He stood in the way of her freedom, and between them there was only a glass table and shelved books, pushed up against the walls.
He kept Yamato up in defence, its light-speed unable to be broken by any attack she might give.
But Lady was far smarter than that; she hoisted Kalina Ann onto her shoulder and tilted upwards, the huge gun blasting towards a glass chandelier. Vergil's eye picked up, the glass flew towards him in a clatter of chimes and shards, but with such power in hand, Yamato's energy infused and the glacial shards exploded towards where Lady had been.
Had...the word reverberated in his mind, and with a growl he looked towards the door. He caught sight of Lady's arm whipping through the open portal...
Was she really so desperate? Did this place hurt her so much? Vergil asked himself but found no answers, and as he swept by to pursue, he sheathed Yamato, the glass from the chandelier cracking into a mess of crystalline as he did so.
She would not leave him...she could not. She was not allowed. She had no right in the matter; she had agreed, and that was final.
As he walked back out into the dark he spotted her, a handgun being cocked by her fingertips, before she aimed at one of the Jag's windows and blasted a bullet straight through. In her desperation, her fingertips clawed at the broken window, cutting her skin as she searched for the keys, blood flowing down the side of the car's paint-job...until a force pulled her arm back, and she cried with frustration.
"Let me go and give me the keys!" she demanded, pleased that strength had finally made itself clear in her voice.
"No..." he stated simply, and his grip tightened.
"You're a piece of work..." Lady seethed viciously, her other hand travelling through air at precise speed, and hitting Vergil squarely in the jaw.
For the first time in a long time, blood boiled in Vergil's brain, giving his eyes a carnation tint. It took every ounce of his control not to hit her back; after years of torment in hell, it was, after all, only instinct.
"Fuck, Vergil, let...me...GO!" Lady's temper finally hit her hard, and her lily cheeks bloomed crimson. Little did she know that, for this very reason, Vergil wanted to hold her ever closer.
But he didn't...he controlled himself and acted upon what reason he felt was justified. Just like Nero, he pinned her against the car door and unsheathed Yamato, its silver taunting her throat.
"Your choice, Lady Mary..." he whispered, enjoying every un-clarified syllable of the growl that came from her throat. "...death by my sword, or a simple companionship. I'm not asking much, but you're making it far more complicated than it needs to be. I'm asking you to stay in the house, for tonight...tomorrow, you need not look at it."
Her throat flashed, and he gulped. He was too close to her...leaning down, his mouth close to her ear, and his eyes tracking every movement of her elegant throat.
"But what happens tonight?" she questioned, in a whimper, to her despair.
He smiled, and she did not miss it.
"Nothing, of course." And he realised that he sounded far more entertained than he ever could have believed. Still, she put on a great show...
For that, Lady hated him even more. She was no one's object, nobody's, and Vergil should know it...he may be powerful, she thought, but he'll never tame me.
"Go to Hell..." she whispered with brutality, unaware of the irony until her statement fled her mouth.
"On the contrary, my lady, I've already been...it was not such a nice reprieve."
Pulling her to him, he walked back towards the dreaded house... and to his delight, Lady did not struggle.