I'm sad to say I put the least effort into this story compared to my other stories -cries- but from now on, the next chapters will be longer. I really do like this story and have good ideas for the plot so I don't want to see it wither away into nothing. Please enjoy for now as I sharpen my writing action scene skills.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Devil May Cry characters!

Ch. 2 Begin

Dante ran his hand through his limp silver hair, pulling out a few loose strands and letting them fall aimlessly to the dirty floor. He blinked slowly, seeing no difference to the darkness when he closed his eyes to the darkness of the room. There were more voices now, taunting him in his weak state. Even though he was alone, it felt like he was in a crowded elevator or a junkie rave party. Noise, noise, noise. It was the only thing that was sparking up any emotion from him. There were some whispers and some louder than they should be. It made him remember how the day after the attack on his mother, Vergil, and him was quiet. So very quiet was that day a scared child was clutching on to his father's sword for comfort, praying that it would chase the shadows away. Isolation.

A voice called out in the bloodshed and darkness, almost as smoothing as his mother's. Dante listened hard when he never wanted to listen at all, determined to catch that voice and hold on to it. He wanted to keep it in his memory forever so that it would play like a favorite song over and over. Empty salvation.

His breathing was starting to become shallow, barely audible now to his ears. His forehead felt clammy; most likely he was coming down with an illness. However, since he had never been sick before in his life, he didn't know what was going on with his body. Sleep was beginning to take over him, taking Dante back to the deepest part of his mind and away from reality that drifted a twig out into the sea. Every time he walked into his dreams, he felt himself slip away, piece by piece. But instead of feeling completely empty, there was something building in those empty spaces, filling them up when old pieces were disappearing. Dante couldn't explain it but no matter how much it seemed like a hopeless cause, there was a nagging feeling that told him, forced him even, to accept that he was going to live, whether he wanted to or not. As a half breed or a full demon.

Suddenly, his blood sped up, pumping his heart fast as though he was fighting demons. Dante's eyes snapped open but closed again as he felt a sharp pain flowing throughout his body. He clenched his teeth as he gripped the bed sheets hard, hoping that the pain would subside. He may have taken many hits and stabs and whatnot to his body before but nothing was as painful as the pain he was enduring now. It seemed to burn him, take him, strip him of his human skin. His teeth morphed into sharp fangs, accidentally pricking his lower and upper lips, drawing blood. His fingernails grew into sharp black claws, tearing into the bed, causing cotton to erupt wildly. What had hurt the most was his back. The excruciating pain of a hot knife was cutting into him and it felt like it was scrapping something along the lines of his shoulder blades to come out. Dark leathery wings ripped through, causing Dante to scream. It chased the voices away and echoed into the night.

--

Nero stopped dead his tracks and jumped into a fighting stance. His blue eyes scanned the dark street, searching for the danger he sensed but nothing came and he relaxed a bit. It was pretty late and he wasn't getting any closer to finding out where Dante lived. All the buildings and stores looked very eerily similar to each other, minus the signs that advertised the various businesses. Exactly seven hours, forty five minutes, and three seconds ago, he was in his home, relaxing after a day of exterminating a gang of Scarecrows causing mayhem in the city. Before the silver haired man could shut his eyes and fall into slumber, a voice called out, abruptly waking him. The voice was as loud as a real person talking to him but there was no image of dreams that could support the voice and no one was there in his room except for himself. After a few minutes, he began to doze off again but then the voice came back. This time, he was able to catch what it was saying to him: "Help Dante." It became louder, impossible to ignore. The voice definitely sounded like it came from a male and knowing that Nero had no chance of getting any sleep, he got dressed to head out, strangely relying on his instincts as to Dante's whereabouts.

Now, he felt that he should have looked up a directory or a map because he was lost in a city he didn't even know the name to. It was a an honest to God miracle he was able to make it from Fortuna City to….wherever he was. As Nero was about to call it a night, a strong wind blew in his face from his left. The Devil Bringer flashed to life and it got stronger as he aimed it in the direction of the wind. The sword Yamato appeared before him, beckoning to be wield. He gripped the rusty handle with his human hand and before sprinting off into the windy direction, the voice came back, whispering, "Too late."

Ten minutes later, Nero's arm stopped glowing completely as he stared at a run down building in front of him with a sign barely lighting the name "Devil May Cry." He figured this place was where Dante was living and went to the door, finding it locked. He looked for another door or opened window but found broken glass on the ground. His eyes gazed upward and caught a window with the missing glass. The Devil Bringer carefully grabbed on the ledge and hoisted Nero up to the second floor. Without getting cut, he climbed inside, finding a damaged bed and familiar Devil Arms scattered on the floor but no wielder.

"What the hell happened here?" Nero mumbled to himself and began searching for clues. The room looked as though it hasn't been cleaned for a while, collecting a thin layer of dust everywhere save for the destroyed bed. The Devil Bringer came to life again and lead him to the pillows. Nero lifted one of the pillows with the tip of Yamato, finding a red amulet reacting to his arm. He took a hold of it and a red beam shot out of it, straight out the window. He decided to follow the light, putting the amulet around his neck and jumped out onto rooftops with the Devil Bringer grabbing on to ledges, heading in the exact direction of the light.

"Where are you, Dante?" he growled impatiently. A hiss escaped his lips as he stopped for a moment to rest. A few drops of blood slid down his right arm. He raised his sleeve and saw the rough red wine colored skin glow slightly, eating away at his human flesh.

"Not again…" Ever since he encountered the legendary son of Sparda, his demonic arm had gotten worse. It was starting to reach his middle bicep and blood was beginning to dry around the edges. He ignored the irritating pain and felt the wind pick up dangerously. The amulet jiggled around his neck, clinking against the metal zipper of his hoodie. His vision was filled with piercing red eyes that stared straight into his very being. It was like a large weight dropped on him and taunted him to get it off. They were familiar, Nero feared, as he heard the voice scream what he had already known.

The name escaped him unconsciously, "…Dante."

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