Hi all! So sorry about taking so long with the next part. I got sidetracked and to be perfectly honest, I never thought about the interaction between them and Butterfly, so I had little material there. I also ran into some unfortunate laptop issues that have since been resolved. Anyway, it is finally here for your reading pleasure and thankfully, fairly long.
Btw I'm not entirely sure of the ages of characters in DMC. I presume Nero was 19 in 4 and 24 in 5. I only mention it because it's mentioned in the chapter.
Upon exiting the portal, Nero found himself in a dirty, dilapidated alley next to his uncle. He glanced around in search of other people, but he only found graffiti on the walls and trash cans overflowing with garbage. "Where are we?" he asked, scrunching his nose up at the smell.
"Eh, some back alley in the Big Apple," Dante answered dismissively as he started down the path. "C'mon, the Gates are just down this way. Oh and stick close by. They don't call this place the Dump for nothing."
Nero followed obediently, minding the jutting and cracked areas of the road. Man, he couldn't imagine how many drunks had busted their ass or kissed the concrete trying to make it out of the alley.
He followed his uncle a short ways down, passing under an arch before they came upon a door that almost appeared to be sunken into the wall like it was built to be inconspicuous. Dante entered with Nero close behind.
The younger hunter squinted in the darkness when the door closed behind him. When his eyes finally adjusted, he could see that the interior was far nicer than he would've anticipated. The tables and chairs, if a little old, appeared in good condition, a vintage record player sat beside a gargoyle statue just next to the bar, and gothic designs and features were etched into the stone walls and arches. Speaking of the bar, it was the main source of light outside of the TV screens set up on either side and the dim purple lamps. An array of bottles was on display in the back with a suspiciously familiar neon sign reading The Gates of Hell hung hung in front. At the very back of the establishment was a staircase that led to who knows where - probably another entrance/exit.
Behind the counter was a man that set the young hunter on edge. He was built like a mountain of muscle to put it simply and he appeared to rival his uncle in terms of stature. But it wasn't his naturally intimidating appearance that had him tense. It was the demonic energy he was giving off. It was an unusually large amount for a man so human-looking. He looked up from the glass he was cleaning, and though they were obscured by a pair of shades, Nero could feel his eyes boring into them both. He only relaxed when the man simpered and cracked a smile. "Well, I'll be damned! Ain't seen you in a while, Dante."
The devil hunter flashed him a smile as he sauntered over to the bar. "What brings you around? Treatin' junior there to his first drink?" the bartender gestured to Nero.
"I'm twenty-four," he snapped immediately with cheeks tinted red. Dammit, what was with every adult wanting to treat him like a child? Were they bitter and lashing out at him for his youth or something?
Dante let out a short chuckle as he leaned against the counter, "No, I have some other business to take care of. I'm looking for Bayonetta. She gonna be in anytime soon?"
"She went out for a job a little while ago. Knowing her, she's probably on her way back by now."
"And Bayonetta is…?" Nero looked at his uncle expectantly.
"The witch I was telling you about. This is Rodin, the owner of this fine establishment," Dante threw a thumb in the man's direction. "She hangs around here pretty often, so if I need to find her, I just come bother him."
"What you need her for, anyway?" the man retrieved another glass and began cleaning it with the clothe. "The world isn't ending again already, is it?"
"Nah, I just have a favor to ask."
Rodin raised a brow. "You sure you wanna owe her anything? I know you're pretty loose with your bets, but that woman'll make you be good on your word." He hadn't made any himself, but he had seen Enzo suffer the consequences of many lost bets. It was mostly her making him into her personal pack mule when shopping, but on occasion, it was something worse.
Dante waved his hand dismissively. "Eh, so long as she doesn't come asking for money, it's fine by me."
The conversation was interrupted by the sounds of a heavy door opening distantly at the top of the stairs, followed by heels clacking and feminine voices. "Well, speak of the devil…" Rodin grinned as two women entered the space with a short, portly man right at their heels.
The first wore a black leather catsuit, silver details spreading out in an intricate pattern on the chest and running in lines down the legs. Sleeves of hair-like material cascaded from the shoulders and chest and matched her dark pixie cut. A pair of glasses also adorned her face and complimented the large, triangular earrings she wore. The other was dressed in a red motorcycle jumpsuit with a pair of goggles pushed up to her forehead. Gold feather-like earrings could barely be seen peeking out from her long snowy hair. Their outfits were so eye-catching that Nero almost missed the pairs of guns strapped to their high heels. And much like their outfits, they appeared glamorous in design.
God, he had so many questions.
Of the two, the one in red caught Nero's attention more. Not for any of those reasons, but because of the platinum locks that nearly reached her calves. There was only one bloodline he knew of that resulted in pure white hair like that.
"That's the fourth car you two have wrecked!" the fat man exclaimed, his bad Italian accent making him sound like a cartoon's idea of a mob boss. "I'm gonna have to start takin' payments outta-"
"Enzo!" Dante called out with a broad smile and the man seemed to freeze instantly.
The man slowly turned, still frozen mid-complaint, to look at the smiling man in red. "You-!" He looked back at the two women and then at the devil hunter again. He repeated the action, a look of horror suddenly dawning on his face. "Oh no!" he held up a finger. "No way! I am not dealing with you two-" he jabbed a finger toward Dante and the woman in black, "-at the same time!" He spun on his heel and started towards the stairs. "I'm gettin' outta here before some demon or angel tries to fuckin' kill me!"
Nero watched the stout man stomp back up the stairs with wide eyes while his uncle chuckled lowly off to his side. What the hell just happened? he thought.
Both women stared bewildered for a moment longer before shrugging it off and returning their attention to present company. "Ah, I was wondering when you'd be back to pester me," the one in black remarked, her voice thick with an English accent. "Ooh," she made a face after taking a moment longer to observe him. "What's with that mop on your head?"
Nero made no attempt to hide his amusement and snorted at the elder hunter's expense.
Dante sighed and crossed his arms. "You too? C'mon, cut me some slack. I only just got back from hell a few days ago."
The woman in red ignored him and circled the devil hunter, taking some of the long ends into her palm. After a moment, she shook her head. "Those split ends are dreadful."
Cereza joined her friend on the other side of Dante, investigating the locks as well. "Why, this is just pitiful!" she exclaimed after seeing them up close, looking downright horrified by their state.
Annoyed, the half-devil swatted their hands away and took a few steps back from the women. "My hair is not the reason we came here!" He grabbed his nephew and dragged him over to his side, partly to use him as a shield. "I came to ask for a little favor."
"If you want us to babysit, the answer is no," Jeanne replied swiftly.
"I'm not a kid!" Nero seethed through gritted teeth. "Who the hell are you two, anyway?" He assumed one of them was this Bayonetta character he'd been hearing about, but the alias suited both ladies like a glove.
"Ah, I see he inherited daddy's manners," Cereza remarked with a chuckle.
The younger hybrid's anger died right there. "What? No, no, you've got the wrong idea!" Dante held up his hands. "He's my brother's, not mine. This is my nephew, Nero."
"Oh, how rude of me," the woman said upon realizing that she'd all but ignored the young man who had tagged along. "My name is Cereza and this Jeanne," the witch gestured to herself then her friend, who had settled at the bar. Well, that ruled her out. However, the resemblance was uncanny. "Though, your uncle still insists on calling me Bayonetta."
"What can I say," he shrugged his shoulders with a smug grin. "A sweet name like Cereza just doesn't suit you like Bayonetta."
"So what is the reason for your visit?" the witch rounded him and flicked one of the white locks playfully.
"Butterfly," he replied simply, batting at her hands again.
Cereza's eyes landed on Nero, and he suddenly felt like he was prey being sized up. "I take it the little one wants to get acquainted?" The corners of her mouth twitched up when she saw him clench his jaw.
"Not another one…" he sighed and mentally started counting backwards to quell his flaring temper. He'd seen the look in her eye. She was an agitator just like his uncle, and he'd only give her exactly what she wanted if he snapped back.
"Yep," Dante popped the 'p' at the end. "When he asked about family, I realized I'd forgotten to introduce him to someone. So wouldja mind summoning her for a bit?"
"Well, I could…" Bayonetta tapped her chin with a gloved forefinger and appeared thoughtful, but it was clearly put on. "But not with you looking like that ," she grinned, eying his hair once more.
Dante sighed and crossed his arms, "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
"No, I won't. You look like you belong on the side of the street, " she placed her hands on her hips and fixed him with determined eyes. "Tell you what: You let me fix… that," the witch gestured loosely at his head, "and then I'll summon her for a visit."
There was a beat of silence before Dante sighed heavily, "Alright, fine." He grabbed the nearest chair and plopped down in it. "But you better not make me look ridiculous," the devil hunter aimed a stern finger her way, but it only served to increase her amusement.
"How can I? You've already done that for me." The half-devil grumbled something under his breath as she rounded him and got to work.
Nero stared bewildered as the witch pulled a comb and scissors directly from her outfit and began combing and snipping pieces of hair. Honestly, he was shocked Dante had given himself over to her whims so easily. He wasn't sure if it was her feminine beauty or if the old man was just too tired to fight with her. Or maybe it was the woman's reputation. It sounded like she was prone to craziness that could rival Dante's. The guns strapped to her heels seemed to validate that theory.
"So you guys are witches," Nero leaned against the nearest table and crossed his arms. "If that's the case, then where are your pointy hats and black cats?"
Jeanne groaned from her seat at the bar, "Not that old joke again…"
"You know, he made the same joke when we first met," Cereza gestured to the devil hunter with the end of the comb.
"No, I asked where your broom was," Dante corrected. "Back then, your hair looked like a pointy hat."
The witch scoffed, "You're the last person who should be talking about hair right now."
"We're not the fairy tale kind of witches. We're Umbra witches," Jeanne supplied after taking a sip from her glass.
Nero stared blankly at her for a moment before speaking, "Never heard of 'em."
"I'm not surprised. Most of the world thinks we died out some centuries ago."
"To make a long story short, these ladies are from a long-lost clan of witches that made pacts with demons," Dante began to explain while Cereza continued to trim down his platinum locks. "Most of what you think of when you hear witch doesn't apply to them."
"And I take it she's got a pact with Butterfly," Nero nodded towards the witch in black.
"You've got that right," she paused in her work to gesture down at her shadow, and only then did the younger hunter notice what was wrong with it. The form was still feminine, but a broad headpiece adorned the head and butterfly wings sprouted from the back. "Her and I are on pretty good terms, actually. I suppose getting along with humans runs in the family."
"'Cept dear old dad didn't play nice just so he could kill angels," the devil hunter pointed out.
"True," she conceded. Before Nero could question that , the witch snipped off the last few shaggy locks. "There. Now you look somewhat presentable."
She stepped back to observe her work while the hunter got up and dusted a few stray hairs out of his lap. "Well, kid, she didn't make me look ridiculous, did she?"
Nero had to admit that the witch had done a good job. The cut appeared professional, clean, and even by all accounts. Now, the hunter's hair didn't dust against his jaw or rest on his shoulders. In fact, it appeared exactly as it did before they took on the Qliphoth job. "Your hair looks fine. Your face, though…" he feigned a wince.
"You're just mad your rugged features still haven't come in yet," he countered cooly.
"Where are yours? All I see are wrinkles," the youth smirked when his uncle's smug grin fell and he shot him a glare. Even Cereza let out an uncharacteristic snort that was quickly stifled by her hand.
Were the older hunter's ego not so bruised at the moment, he would have admitted that that was a pretty good comeback. Nero might be Vergil's son, but he somehow got Dante's smart-ass mouth.
Cereza cleared her throat, both to get their attention and to steady her voice, "If you two ladies are done, I'm ready to summon your demon now." As entertaining as their back and forth was, they did have business to attend to.
At the mention of what they came there to do, Dante's wounded expression brightened. "Yeah. I think we've messed around long enough," he agreed, eyes crinkling impishly as his smile returned.
The look on his face triggered alarm bells in Nero's head. He raised a suspicious brow and eyed him with a level of distrust. Clearly, his uncle was eager for something, but he had a feeling it wasn't the demon summoning.
Despite his suspicions, Nero couldn't help but focus on the woman as she moved to the front where she had more space. He did wonder how these witches summoned demons. Movies and TV made him think blood sacrifice and a ritual circle, but based on what was said earlier, that likely wasn't the case for them.
The witch spread her arms wide and twisted her body around in some display of dance, ending in a pose with her arms folded behind her back while calling out an incantation that sounded like gibberish to him. What happened next made him realize why Dante had been so keen on the summon. His eyes went wide when the sleek catsuit disappeared in an instant, leaving her only covered by the hair that swirled around her. He looked away the second he registered her nude form, face flushing bright red. As a result, he only caught a glimpse of the portal opening out of the corner of his eye.
A red gateway formed on the floor in front of them. The black locks burst forward, swirling and pulsing with magic, and began to take on a humanoid form. The features became more distinct until the image of a tall, beautiful woman in a purple dress with a peculiar butterfly headpiece in place of hair stood before them. Her pure red eyes gleamed hungrily and her lips were pulled into a sadistic grin revealing fangs that glinted into the light. However, the demon's expression became perplexed when she found two men in front of her instead of an angel ready to be slaughtered.
She scrutinized the two for a moment before she recognized the one in the red coat desperately trying to keep a straight face. However, before she could speak, the younger of the two snarled at the other, "Some warning would've been nice, you asshole!" He was trying to look intimidating, but with his face as red as the leather jacket Dante wore, he was failing spectacularly.
The older hunter cracked, snorting and suppressing his chuckles behind his hand. "Sorry, did I forget to mention that her clothes come off when she does that?" he feigned innocence, further irritating the young hunter.
The young man looked ready to pounce on his uncle and knock the grin right off his face, but the demon woman's strange, echoing voice gave him pause. Both hunters stared at her as she spoke, but neither could make sense of what was said. Much like the witches chanting, the demon's words sounded like gibberish. It made the young hunter wonder if she was placing a spell on them.
"I don't think they can understand you," Bayonetta chimed in from her seat at the bar. Her black locks now flowed behind her at roughly the same length as Jeanne's, and a piece of her outfit had returned to prevent her from flashing the other patrons - though it was still far too little clothing for Nero's taste. Luckily, she was perched up at a part of the bar that was mostly out of his sight.
"Ah, that's right. I forgot you don't speak Enochian up here," the demon smoothed her dress before fixing them with a surprisingly sweet smile. "It's been quite some time, Dante." Her pure red eyes shifted to Nero, and he almost felt like he should gear up for a fight despite her pleasant nature. "And who's this? I can see Sparda's traits in him." She stepped closer to the pair and placed her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me you went and had a son and didn't think to introduce me until now!"
"Nah, this is Vergil's son, Nero," he clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Butterfly's stilettos clacked against the wooden floor as she took a few steps towards them, her attention focused her great nephew. As she got closer, he realized how tall the demon was. She was easily seven feet tall, maybe a little more with how she stood above even Dante. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Nero." Her tone was strangely sweet and her lips stretched into a greeting smile. "I'm Madama Butterfly, but you can just call me Butterfly for short."
The younger hybrid wasn't really sure what he had expected, but he was still taken aback by her attitude. Unlike the expression she wore earlier, her smile was warm and inviting, and her red eyes watched him closely, brimming with adoration. She was pleasant compared to all the demons he'd met thus far, his uncle and father… sort of being exceptions. "You're, uh… friendlier than I was expecting," he admitted, still a tad thrown off.
"She isn't all the time," Rodin spoke up from behind the bar. "Don't let appearances fool you. She puts most demons to shame with how cruel she can be."
Butterfly grinned proudly at the accusation, her fangs peeking out from behind red lips. "I am guilty of that, but I wouldn't do such a thing to family. Speaking of that, where is your father? I know he got out of the underworld some time ago."
"He's back at the shop," Dante informed. "Said he didn't want to come."
The corners of her mouth tugged into a frown and she put her hands on her hips with a huff. "Of course he did. I bet he's got his nose shoved in a book," she remarked bitterly. Nephew and uncle exchanged glances, both knowing that she had hit the mark.
"Yeah, dad's not the sociable type," Nero agreed. "Kinda sad that a full demon has better manners than him." He let out a sour scoff, "Hell, the bastard couldn't be bothered to tell me his name before he ripped my arm off."
The sounds of ice clinking against glass could be heard from the bar as both witches paused with their drinks to their lips, a mix of concern and confusion flashing across their faces. Rodin didn't turn away from the liquor shelf, but he did briefly stop organizing the bottles when he heard what the young hunter had said.
Butterfly's eyes went wide. "He did what?!" She was right up on Nero before he could explain further, taking one of his arms into her hands and rolling up his sleeve like she was going to inspect it. After finding a real, fleshy arm hidden behind the clothing, her gaze flicked to his other, where she found the same thing.
"It grew back… somehow," Dante supplied with a lopsided grin after noticing the demon's confusion. He had to admit it was a bit funny seeing such a terrifying demon doting on his nephew like he was a little kid. But then again, if she was as old as Sparda, then both of them were "young" in her eyes.
"Really? I'm shocked. There are full demons not even capable of that," she remarked through her frown, dropping Nero's arm to cross her own over her chest. "I can't believe he would do that to his own son! He could've killed you! What possessed him to do such a thing?"
Both Sparda men opened their mouths to give their own answers, but the sounds of reality warping and tearing behind them gave them pause. Turning, they found one of Yamato's portals with Vergil stepping through. "Morrison requested I bring you back. It sounds like he's found a job-"
"Vergil!" the demon's booming voice even made Dante tense a bit, and his sword nearly appeared in his fist on reflex. "Why the hell did you tear off your son's arm?!"
The elder twin kept his cool expression, but just like Dante, he had stiffened ever so slightly at her voice and his hand had twitched towards the blade at his hip. "It's a long story," was all he said in response, shifting uneasily under her sharp gaze.
"Well, get to talking. I want to hear it," she prompted, still visibly upset.
As Vergil began to explain himself as best he could - with interjections from Dante and Nero - both witches shared another look. "And I thought your family drama was bad," Jeanne commented before taking another sip of her drink.
I hope the ending wasn't too abrupt. Like I said, I didn't have too many ideas for how they'd interact with Butterfly, and it was harder to think stuff up since she doesn't talk. Anyway, I hope this was an enjoyable read and worth the wait! I have other DMC ideas to come at some point, so I hope you'll look forward to those as well!