Author's Note: Sorry everyone for taking so long with this next chapter. I look forward to everyone's reactions with what happens next! I have a lot planned for what lies ahead, so expect the story to build more momentum as events begin to shift toward twists and turns. Without further ado, here is chapter 3! Oh, and also I revised this because I accidently made Enzo African American instead of Italian but that's fixed now so it's all good :)

Chapter 3

"So where are you from?"

Vergil raised his head slightly to look at the road, from the passenger's seat of the red pickup he was in. In his mind, he seemed to sigh in wonder as to how things could have come down to hitchhiking back to the city. The city…where Dante was….where it all had begun and ended.

"You a pimp?"

The driver was a middle-aged man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He clearly was commenting on the rich purple and satin Vergil wore, an imitation of Sparda. That's all Vergil was, an imitation. Right?

"My business is none of your concern, just drive," Vergil said softly with a tinge of annoyance. He had concealed his sword in a cloth on board a ship heading out from Fortuna. It lay in the back seat completely tied in a perfect bundle by a loose cord.

The man kept nervously glancing at Vergil's stiff posture in the seat," So, ah what brings you to the city? I mean seeing as you're not a pimp and all I was jus' wonderin'."

The road bumps caused the truck to bounce slightly as they neared the end of a long stretch nearing the city's outskirts. Vergil remained in silence for a while, thinking of his escape from the strange land that worshipped his father.

Shortly after the battle he had left to find means of getting back to where he could find Dante. He had concealed his sword because security officials would certainly be looking for him. For what seemed like ages he had festered in the cargo hold of a ship among rats. He had gotten off from the first stop at port and had hitched a ride from several people, all of whom had questioned his unusual attire and his business. However, this man clearly had a death wish, for he would not shut up for anything.

The silence told him that his "chauffeur" must have thought him to be asleep, for his eyes were closed deep in thought. Inside his chest Vergil could feel the newly reawakened power of the devil that slept inside of him. It was an old warmth, a warmth that had made him cold as ice because he was above humans. He would rather embrace what little dignity he had left, than to give himself so eagerly over to the normal people as his brother had so willingly done.

The truck had stopped. Vergil's eyes snapped open, startling the driver who had been about to shake him. He climbed out of the vehicle slamming the door behind him. He had seen this place before somewhere. Love Planet?

Vergil noticed the man hurriedly getting bottles out of the back of the truck bed and begin to carry them inside. It wasn't rocket science, Vergil knew it had to be alcohol. Just down the road was Dante's shop, if he had rebuilt it in the same place that is. Still, he felt the need to check out this "Love Planet" to see if he could find out whether Dante had relocated or not.

Without any hesitation Vergil stepped into the strip club, not even pausing to see a girl on stage pole dance. The air was stifling and smelled of smoke and beer bottles littered the floor as he walked amid the pulsing lights and hollers of men who were engrossed in the exotic dance before them.

He made his way to the bar, holding his cloth bundle tightly as he walked in. Luckily he had grabbed it from the back seat before leaving. He noticed some heads turn as he walked in, and he saw the man who had driven him conversing in low tones with the bartender while pointing at him.

"Well if it isn't Dante!"

Vergil turned to his right to see a short fat Italian-looking man perched on a stool holding a glass of liquor. He looked strangely familiar…

"I thought you was supposed to be watching the shop," he said drooping his graying head and swaying almost off his stool," Plus I didn't know clown was in!"

The drunkard emphasized his last statement by tugging obnoxiously on the dirty purple sleeve of Vergil's overcoat, before cackling stupidly and taking another swig. Vergil pulled his arm away repulsively and watched the man take yet another swig.

"How do you know my brother?"

"Pfft, brother! Man, Dante doesn't have a brother! He died like years ago or something. Bah I don't know!"

" Where is Dante?" Vergil said with force underlying his serious tone.

"Man, I don't know! I'm not his keeper! Can't a dude enjoy his drink?"

"Insolent buffoon!" Vergil hissed, grabbing the man's arm and applying pressure," I did not come all this way to hear you drown in a bottle!"

The bartender came over wiping a mug in his hand with a rag," Is everything okay Enzo? Hey Danny, you and Joe escort this troublemaker outta here."

The man, addressed as Danny lay a thick hand on Vergil's shoulder, causing Vergil to turn his head to look over. The two men grabbed his arms and began to act as though they were going to pull him away. Big mistake.

In a swift motion Vergil backfisted the two fools sending them into the tables behind him. He tossed the cloth off from his sword and pulled out the blade, pointing it at Enzo's throat.

"Now as I said before, where is Dante?"

The man looked shaken and the bartender had already reached for the phone and was in the process of dialing the police. Vergil flicked his blade and the slash seemed to travel through space and cut the phone wire. Vergil sheathed his blade and the phone ceased to work.

"O-o-kay I'll show you where the shop is!"

Enzo shakily got off the stool and headed toward the door as the two goons began to get to their feet. The wind had been knocked out of them only temporarily. The bartender, however remained resolutely against the wall as though the raised bottle in his hand could somehow ward off the half glared at them as he walked by, after Enzo stumbled over a table and cackled coughing. The outside night air was brisk and starless as the duo trudged up the road past some shady characters warming their hands beside barrels with fire in them. Vergil made little eye contact with them as he pressed on, with the staggering drunkard leading him, coughing from time to time. Most likely, because of the smoke from that strip club.

Still Vergil had to consider himself lucky, fate had brought him right to where he needed to be. Closer to the amulet that was his birthright, a momento of a past that he had almost forgotten, one that had driven him to escape Hell itself just to get it back. Along with the blade he now carried at his side. He stared at its hilt briefly as he walked marveling at what it was like to finally hold his beloved devil arm once more. He swore it would never leave his touch again, and least of all to some inexperienced boy.

He did not really feel remorse for what he had done, yet there had been something about the girl….Her kindness toward him had softened him and stilled his blade when he could have decided the battle. He had been weak. No matter, when the boy would come to get his revenge Vergil would most assuredly end it.

Enzo had stopped up ahead and pointed down a wide alcove in what seemed to almost be an alleyway. "Just head down there and you can't miss it," he said still with slightly slurred speech.

Vergil approached the alleyway, not even bothering to thank Enzo as he walked off down another sidestreet singing loudly a song in gibberish. He saw a red light. No, a massive sign that said "Devil May Cry". He stood there transfixed gazing stupidly at the sign. His brother had started a business after all, and more importantly it had a name. A stupid name, Vergil thought, but a name nonetheless. After all devils never cry.

Vergil clenched his fist and closed his eyes and opened them to find his center of focus. Why was he so overcome with trepidation? He never had felt this way about things before. What would his brother say to him after so many years? Vergil pushed these thought aside. Pathos was beneath him, it was weakness to be emotional. All that he needed to do was to claim his amulet. Nothing more.

Dante sat with his legs crossed in their usual fashion on top of his desk. A piece of pizza was flapping in one hand while he held a book in the other. He heard the door open slowly letting some cold air come in. Low metal was playing in the background from his jukebox, as he heard the shoes of the visitor walk slowly from the doorway. He was so engrossed in the magazine that he gestured vaguely," Look pal, if you're a customer I'm a little busy right now. If not, the bathroom's in the back."

"You never did know how to run a business, did you brother?"

Dante would have recognized that voice anywhere, but it couldn't be! The pizza and the magazine fell to the floor as he sat dead upright putting his feet solidly on the floor. For the first time in his life, Dante's face was as white as his hair.