Chapter 11: Human
Fortuna had changed.
That was Vergil's first thought as he strode through the streets. All traces of the order, omnipresent during his last visit, were gone. No banners, no majestic statues looking down on the inhabitants.
Instead, construction sites and ruined buildings dominated the cityscape.
Fortuna's citizens crossed his path, their faces unveiled and their heads held high, devoid of the old, fruitless beliefs. And no knights to reprimand them, either.
After so many years in hell, it felt strange to be among humans again.
He detested it. But his curiosity made him overcome this aversion.
Vergil's steps led him to a place that eluded his memory. Amidst the ruins of the surrounding buildings stretched a large cemetery. Hundreds of tombs rose from the ground among freshly planted bushes and young trees, some well preserved and ornate, others overgrown with moss, their inscriptions barely legible.
Looking around, he remembered that the gate to hell once towered over Fortuna's rooftops at this very spot.
His eyes wandered over the inscriptions on the tombs. So many of those buried had died six years ago. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement - a young woman stepped at his side and placed a bouquet of flowers on a grave.
"Are you looking for someone?" she asked.
Even though he had never seen her face before, Vergil recognized the voice of Nero's girlfriend.
"It saddens me that most of the graves are empty," she continued, removing weeds from the grave she visited. "The old cemetery was destroyed, and although we recovered some gravestones, many names are gone forever."
Vergil looked at the inscription on the grave she was tending.
"Credo - beloved brother and fearless warrior," who had died six years ago.
"But it could have been worse," she continued, "if Nero and Dante had not saved us," her voice trembled slightly at the last words. She clutched her necklace's pendant like a saving anchor and took a deep breath.
"Why are you telling me this?" asked Vergil, slightly annoyed.
The young woman straightened up and turned to face him. She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Because I want you to know."
Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You humans disgust me. You're always looking for a fool willing to sacrifice themselves instead of taking your destiny into your own hands. You are weak and selfish."
The smile disappeared, and her gaze wandered to the ground. "Maybe you are right. Maybe that's why people give themselves to darkness, to become stronger, to survive." She clasped her pendant again. "But is it wrong to call for help?"
Mom, help me! Mom! Please!
Brother!
Immediately Vergil banished this rising memory back to the deepest corner of his consciousness.
"And if no one comes to your rescue? Will you humans then lie on your back and wait for death, or will you get up and fight?" the anger in his voice surprised him, but he no longer had the patience to deal with this naive woman. So instead, he defensively folded his arms in front of his chest and stubbornly fixed his gaze on the tombs.
"I don't know," she whispered uncertainly, clearly hurt by his harsh words.
As expected. The human race was spoiled; they had become accustomed to a world where their needs were met without much effort or sacrifice. The woman's uncertainty only confirmed his belief that they had become soft, ill-prepared to face the harsh realities of life.
"But..." she began hesitantly, her voice quivering slightly as she clutched her pendant so tightly that her knuckles turned white, "being brave doesn't always mean being able to fight. Sometimes, it just means finding the strength to keep going, to not give up."
A sad smile appeared on her lips as she gently wiped away some dirt from a few gravestones that all shared the same engraved surname. The devotion with which the woman took care of the graves made Vergil conclude that they must be the resting places of people close to her—her family.
He tore himself away from the sight and walked a few steps further into the center of the cemetery. Pushing down the mix of emotions, the woman's words churned in him.
Soon his gaze was drawn towards a monument of dark marble-like stone that rose among the graves. Thorn bushes surrounded it, seemingly guarding the memorial and creating a somber atmosphere. However, there was an unease that tugged at Vergil's consciousness. Something felt amiss.
The monument was a simple stone slab, almost as tall as Vergil himself, embedded in a sturdy pedestal.
Hundreds of names had been carved into the stone with varying degrees of precision. He let his eyes wander, skimmed over them. Many were carved into the rock by a skilled hand, and some names looked as if they had been added later, perhaps by grieving relatives. And then some names had been cruelly defaced and scratched beyond recognition.
You're looking for her name, right?
Vergil squinted his eyes. He instinctively reached up to massage his throbbing temple, hoping to alleviate the stabbing pain that V's voice had caused. Like a storm, the collected memories and echoes of both V and Urizen rushed through his head, unleashing a turmoil of images and voices.
Memories of his human body on the verge of disintegration mingled with the ecstatic feeling of power as he held the fruit in his hands.
Visions of Malphas dutifully executing his every command faded, replaced by images of his loyal familiars fighting at his side.
The memories of his encounters with the Angelos overlapped, blending the grim struggle of combat with his orders, instructing the Angelos to kill his enemies.
...and amidst the swirling chaos, there were memories that belonged solely to him.
Dark hair, amber eyes, and a smile that promised trouble. Gentle Hands that touched his face and a sword against his neck.
And blood. So much blood.
With his jaw clenched, Vergil tore himself away from his memories. Reburied them in the depths of his mind. Allowing him to regain control over his thoughts and focus on the present. As a melodic hum reached his ears, carrying a gentle and soothing quality, Vergil's attention shifted to the sound. He listened for a moment before turning his gaze back to the monument. Vergil had sensed something in the lifeless stone before his memories had momentarily consumed him.
Somehow, a strange atmosphere emanated from the object in front of him. It was an aura that seemed familiar yet distorted as if someone had tampered with it.
"Girl! What is this?" Vergil's voice rang out, commanding the attention of the young woman.
Startled, she halted her soft humming and turned her gaze towards him, her hands stained with soil. "The monument?" there was a hint of weariness in her voice. "It's to commemorate the fallen knights who were exploited by the order. It was crafted from a piece of the Hell Gate."
Vergil frowned. "But where is the rest of it?"
"The remnants were buried at the bottom of the sea, along with everything else that had belonged to the Order.", The woman replied, her tone surprisingly brusque.
How short-sighted humans were again, that despite the past catastrophe, they allowed a fragment of the gate to linger in the city.
Attracted by the strange aura, Vergil extended his hand toward the monument, but before his fingers could touch the stone, the sound of a church bell echoed through the air, heralding the next hour.
Reluctantly, Vergil lowered his arm and took a step back. While his thoughts shifted to Nero and the training that awaited them.
…
Groaning, Nico yanked on the iron chain to pull up the garage door. With each tug, she cursed Nero, who had quietly disappeared again at the crack of dawn. The reason for her anger was on the workbench behind her. The Blue Rose and the belt for the Devil Breaker lay there, left behind among her tools.
"Hey Nico, I don't need the prosthetics anymore," she mimicked her partner, giving the iron chain one last aggressive jerk. "Because I'm an ungrateful asshole who desperately wants approval from Daddy!"
Bright light flooded the workshop, revealing the mess she had made over the last few days experimenting on a new Devil Breaker. Grumbling, she lit a cigarette and stuck it in the corner of her mouth before clearing the junk aside to drive the van out of the garage.
"Don't worry, Hank. I'll give that idiot a piece of my mind," she assured her humanoid invention. The training dummy still stood damaged and with its hanging head in a corner, but at least someone had taken enough pity on Hank to give him a hat., probably by one of the orphans who occasionally visited and enjoyed watching Nico while she worked or ran upstairs for some good old home-cooking.
Nico braced herself with the effort against the workbench in the middle of the room and, groaning, pushed it aside with all her strength. Unfortunately, while she was busy doing this, she didn't notice Kyrie standing in front of the garage, watching her curiously.
The red-haired woman spoke up when Nico grabbed Nero's weapons and tossed them on the passenger seat. "What are you doing?"
The mechanic turned in surprise to see Kyrie's reddened eyes, which only made her angrier. "Are you okay? This is his fault, isn't it? Nero is such a jerk. I'm gonna kick his ass real good!"
Without letting Kyrie get a word in edgewise, Nico frantically rummaged in her pockets for the car keys until Kyrie finally grabbed her wrist and stopped the irascible woman from getting into the car. "Don't be mad," she tried to soothe the tomboy, giving her an encouraging smile.
Sulking, Nico let the passenger door slam shut.
"We have to be patient, Nico. Give him a chance to find out who his father really is. He's had to wait so long." Smiling, Kyrie put both hands on Nico's shoulders. "He's coming back. He always comes back. After all, we're his family, aren't we?"
Speechless, Nico stared into Kyrie's angelic face. Before she groaned in frustration and dramatically pressed both hands to her eyes, "How can someone be such a kindhearted person!"
"Years of practice," Kyrie replied without hesitation, accompanying her words with an innocent smile.
"Sometimes you scare me," Nico muttered, wide-eyed, but couldn't help but laugh out loud. A laugh that Kyrie returned.
"Okay, let's get back to work. A Devil Breaker doesn't invent itself," the mechanic quipped, making a show of rolling up her nonexistent sleeves.
Kyrie watched her pick up and inspect a few individual parts. After a few moments, the young woman finally took heart and spoke aloud the thought that had been on her mind since her encounter with Vergil.
"I want to learn how to shoot."
In shock, the mechanic almost dropped the pieces she had picked up off the floor. Her surprise was written all over her face.
Kyrie nervously played with the rings on her fingers and had to take a deep breath to keep herself from losing her composure, "I don't want to have to be afraid anymore. I need to finally put the past behind me and..." Her voice failed, and she pressed a hand to her eyes to hold back the tears. "I'm sorry," she apologized shakily.
Nico didn't probe further, knowing how much she cared for Nero when he was on a mission. Just because she trusted Nero and knew he would always return to her didn't mean she wasn't worried. The mechanic also knew some fragments of the disaster that hat shook this city to its core. That this experience must have left scars was clear, even to Nico.
Determined, she dropped everything she was carrying in her arms. Letting it carelessly clutter the place.
"Kyrie, help me with Hank," she commanded, adding with a grin, "We're going for a ride."
…
"Another abduction without witnesses. The police are at a loss," recited Dante out loud before he lowered the newspaper and looked into the serious faces of Morrison and Enzo. Seeing the two men looming in front of his desk was almost comical. Both were dressed in sleek suits, wearing black coats and holding smelly cigars between their fingers.
The Hunter wondered if air fresheners with the "Strawberry Sundae" scent existed. As Dante's thoughts drifted, Enzo snapped him back to reality as he revealed more information about the murders.
"This is already the sixth person in the span of a few days. No perpetrator was seen, nor were any fingerprints or anything like that left behind. However, rumor has it that traces of sulfur got found at the scenes."
Enzo drew a puff from his cigar, and Morrison took over, "So far, no bodies have resurfaced, nor had any ransoms been demanded. Moreover, the victims don't seem to have anything in common."
"I've turned the entire town upside down and haven't found so much as a whiff of a demon's fart." Frustrated, Dante tossed the paper on the table.
At first, he had been sure that the kidnapper had to be human, but the longer he thought about it, the more that conviction wobbled.
Yes, demons usually killed their victims, and most of the beasts that landed on the sharp side of his blade didn't even possess enough brains to feel fear or pain. But Dante had been in the business long enough to know that some of the creatures lurking in hell were quite capable of scheming devious plans. But even a high demon was usually out to kill unless he had a good reason for keeping his victims alive.
A reason. What if the demons had one?
"All right, I'll take care of this Houdini guy. But one of you is paying me for this, so we're clear. I'm not doing this gig for free."
Enzo began to grin and pulled a bulging envelope from his coat. "That won't be necessary, Dante. Because you have a most generous client."
Dante accepted the envelope in amazement, looked inside, and grinned at the precious contents. "And who is this mysterious client?" he asked, stowing his payment in one of the many drawers of his desk.
The former broker laughed spitefully in response. He didn't bother to answer Dante and only raised his hand in farewell before leisurely exiting the office. Accompanied by Agni and Rudra's excited voices as they discussed his departure.
The demon hunter looked after him, shaking his head, before focusing on Morrison, who couldn't help grinning, "Oh, you'll like this, old friend: he's a priest." Dante immediately rolled his eyes. Priests were his least favorite clients.
"You should bring Trish on board. She's got a knack for sniffing out demons, " suggested his broker before he exited the office.
Trish probably would have been a safe and reliable choice, but Dante had someone else in mind who would make an excellent bloodhound.
So it was finally time for some brotherly bonding.
Forgive me for the fluctuating quality of this chapter, I was tired, and unfortunately, my patience left me very early on.
Nevertheless, I was determined to put this chapter online on the same day. So I skipped the final draft halfway.
May my impatience be damned. xD
And I had way too much fun messing with Vergil's head, so I overdid it a bit with the drama.
See ya.
-J.
