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Equilibrium	By : Imoshen Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3016 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Devil May Cry or any of its
characters ;)

I'd like to thank Zack who's helping me with this story as
a beta reader! :)

Title: Equilibrium

Author: Imoshen

Summary: Betrayed by his own kind, he had lost everything.
To save what's left of him, Vergil has to take a dangerous part while
Dante has to choose who'll survive the cruelty of fate. Nero will
realize that his purpose was sealed a long time ago and that all his
choices have already been made. In the end, only one will live to
save humanity in a world full of evil.

Rated M for violence, gore and sexual contents

Type: Drama, Angst, Romance

Disclaimer: I don't own DMC or any of its characters.

Warnings: Yaoi, Gore, Violence

AN: Even though the title of this fan fiction is
„Equilibrium", it has nothing to do with the movie or the
band. ;) Also I'm not a native speaker so there might be
grammatical errors! Feel free to tell me.;)

Prologue

He was standing in the lake near the shore, the water high enough
to almost cover his hips. There was a low thunder rumbling through
the sky, as rain was pouring down on them. The drops covered the
tracks of tears on his face as he silently cried, too overwhelmed
from what he just had heard. He could hear softly lapping of water
before someone stopped in front of him. He didn't look up and kept
his focus on the water in front of him.

"Nero." His voice was soft as he called his name as it
was barley a whisper and he felt new tears running down his face. He
couldn't look at him. He didn't want to.

He reached out with his right hand and a single finger touched
Nero's right cheek – it felt like it burnt him. He quivered at
his touch. The man took one step forward so he could cup his cheek
with his full hand and Nero caught himself as he was leaning into his
touch. His hand was warm when everything else was cold. He figured he
could stay like this forever – his hand was like his connection
to the living.

"Look at me"; he said, brushing his thumb over his
eyelid as he had closed his eyes at his words. His thumb drew small
circles over his skin and suddenly, he started to lift his head very
slowly. A raindrop fell from his lashes down on his face, running
along his cheek till his jaw. The only noise he could hear was the
rain and his own blood pumping through his body. He was standing so
close and his breath quickened.

"Dante, I…" But he couldn't say any more. He
wouldn't have known what to say anyway, he just wanted to break the
silence, wanted to hear his own voice as he needed it as prove for
that he was still here – alive. But he couldn't say any more as
the elder's lips had captured his. His hand was still resting on his
cheek as he slowly grabbed the backside of his head with it his thumb
still drawing circles on his heated skin. It was a soft and gentle
kiss as his lips almost didn't touch his, nothing like the first one
they shared. He felt how his body reacted on its own as he leaned
forward to get more of the man in front of him. His hands found his
shoulders as he desperately tried not to fall down as his legs were
giving away under him. He opened his mouth a little and felt the
other male's tongue enters his. Their chests were pressed together as
he could taste Dante on his lips. He wanted to deepen the kiss, he
wanted more, he needed more, but at the same time he wanted that it
could last forever, that they would stay forever in this lake while
rain was pouring down on them. So he slowed down, teasing the other
male with small licks of his tongue as he ran his hands down his
back. He could feel how Dante lifted his left hand to put it down on
his hip. Fingers hooked into his belt as he dragged Nero further into
his own body. A small moan escaped the young man's mouth as he could
feel every muscle of the others body pressed against his own.

At last Dante pulled away and a low whimper came from Nero at the
loss of the touch. With half-closed eyes he looked at him and he
could see that his lips were red and slightly swollen from their
kiss. "We should go", his deep voice washed over his body
like the rain did. "You'll catch a cold", he told Nero as
his voice was only a whisper and his right hand dropped down to lay
on his right hip lazily. Nero's eyes caught a single drop of rain
that was running down Dante's jaw dripping down of the junction
between his neck and shoulder. He wanted to know what it would feel
like if he would shove the fabric that covered his skin away and
trace it with his tongue. He felt his mouth gone dry and shook his
head. His gaze caught the water around them and he could see a small
track of blood swirling around Dante's hips.

"You're hurt", he heard his voice say as his focus kept
on the crimson track.

"So are you", was his answer as he didn't move. One of
Nero's hands rose and lay upon his own stomach. "It already
starts to heal", he whispered. He lifted his gaze to met
Dante's. "Why does it hurt so much?"

The older one sighed. "Because you know that it's the truth",
were his calm words as he knew that Nero wasn't talking about his
wound.

"I wish we would've never accepted this mission." Anger
was swimming within his voice and he could feel how it started to
burn his insides. He clenched his hand to a fist.

"Life is never about wishing", was his reply and Nero
hated him for that. He stared angry at Dante, biting his own lip so
hard it would bleed. Lightning broke through the sky and only half a
second later thunder rolled down from the mountains surrounding them.
The rain got heavier. Dante broke away from him taking one step
forward and stopped as he was standing next to him. A hand of his
stretched out to lie upon his left shoulder squeezing it gently.

"We should go", he repeated his words his gaze focusing
somewhere near the shore.

Nero nodded slowly – he was right, they should go. But he
didn't know where to. Back to his old life? That was not possible.
Not after this fight. He was wondering if there was still something
left of him after all this. He had the feeling that his very own self
had vanished at the same time as he had vanished. His body
felt like an empty shell, his soul somewhere lost within the past. It
would never be the same anymore and he didn't know if he could take
it.

As Dante started to try to walk away, a hand captured his, fingers
lazily brushing against his own.

"About what he said – does it change anything between
us?" Nero asked him, as he looked the other direction not daring
to meet his eyes.

"Everything", was all he replied as his vision started
to swim. "It changes everything." His body stiffened.

Nero let go of his hand and it dropped back into the water. His
words were like a knife pressing into his heart and with every beat
it cut deeper. Breathing became a heavy burden as he tried hard not
collapse. He may have won this battle but he had the feeling that he
had lost everything. He could hear how Dante started to move.

"You're coming, kid? Or do you think you might grow a couple
of inches if you stay long enough in the rain?"

There it was. His nickname and the cockiness in his voice he fell
in love with. Arrogant bastard. But Dante was wrong. Some things
would never change. But still… he wished for things that would
never happen and even if there was a slight chance that their fate
could actually change – everything was lost now.

The son of a whore…

He felt the shame rising within. Those words he spoke and he knew
they were true.

… yet only the image of a lost past.

Was this all he would be? An image of a person that once existed?
He realized that his whole existence only based of an evil plan of a
half-devil. There was no father nor was there a mother. He wasn't
conceived but created and born by a whore. He would look in the
mirror and all he would see was a ghost of a person that shouldn't
even exist. As for Dante… He looked at the man and only saw
his back.

"Tell me Dante", he began, "Is this really me?"
The older one stopped within his steps and slightly turned around.
Nero looked at his hands. "Am I still… myself?" His
voice cracked.

"You're everything you want to be."

Nero swallowed the lump that was building inside throat. "But
not for you" he breathed.

Dante shock his head. "No."

"Then this is over."

Us.

He waited for his answer and it felt like seconds would turn into
hours. Nero closed his eyes as he heard his own breathing.

Finally, he could hear how the other one shifted. "Yes."
It was a whisper as he only breathed the answer but it was clear and
loud within his ears. His world turned upside down as realty sank in.
His heart stopped for a second and it seems the rain stopped as well
as the world stood still. There was nothing he could feel, nothing he
could hear. There was no water, no rain, no thunderstorm, not even
Dante was there as his heart broke. He knew within an instant that
something died inside him and it would never come back. But perhaps
the same happened to Dante. The second he spoke those words
the Nero Dante knew had died right in front of his eyes. Maybe he
felt the same pain – he hoped so.

"I'm nothing like him", he told Dante, pure hate in his
words as he spoke.

"You'll never be."

"Yet we're the same." His voice was hoarse.

Dante didn't reply anything. Silence fell over them and it felt so
heavy on Nero's shoulders that he wanted to drown within the pain.

"Don't say that, kid", he told Nero.

"Because the truth hurts?" He laughed but it sounded
more like a cry. "Then we should keep on pretending."

"Keep on pretending what, kid?"

Nero sighed and turned around to stare into Dante's blue eyes. He
tried to smile, but he couldn't.

"That I'm not Vergil."

XXX

He had brought this upon himself; he knew that all too well. His
urge to gain more power had overwhelmed him – his need for
power had made him careless, and now he was paying for his mistakes.
Darkness was surrounding him as unbearable heat was eating through
his body, while his bones were as cold as fresh fallen snow. But
maybe Mundus liked to mess with his mind. After all, he knew too well
what a sadistic bastard he was. The first couple of days, nothing
happened. He lay in the dark, not knowing what would happen next. He
waited for them to take him away, to torture him until he would
become mad – but none of that happened. He could see nothing –
he could only hear the screams of those poor souls that had sinned in
their lives, and were now being punished.

He spent his time within a cloud of numb thoughts, recalling the
last events that brought him here in the first place. He could still
hear his brother's voice; he could still see his face right in front
of his eyes before he took the final step and fell back into the
endless darkness of hell. Their fight, their last conversation, it
all repeated itself inside his head, over and over again. Maybe the
torture had already started without him knowing.

He wouldn't have known if he had been here for hours or days,
maybe weeks or even months. He had lost his feeling for time as his
body grew numb, as it couldn't move. His muscles were stiff and he
yearned to stretch his legs, to lie down and rest his head against
the cool floor and just sleep. But his restraints wouldn't let him.
There was no release.

He almost couldn't hear the endless screams of the other prisoners
anymore as a new voice started to resonate within them. At first, he
almost couldn't hear it, and when he could, he thought it was just a
whisper. But it grew stronger and stronger, and his mind slowly began
to realize what it was that he'd heard.

The voice of a woman.

A woman was crying, her cries only a small whisper that almost
didn't reach his ear. But it grew stronger and stronger, and as it
became louder, her cries became more and more that of screams.

Vergil...

Dante!

As he recognized the voice, it was already too late. He couldn't
keep the pain away that was slowly overtaking his mind. It felt like
a wave that was crushing down on him and threatened to drown him.

No. He wouldn't give in.

But the screams seemed to pierce right into his soul.

With his mother's screams, the memories returned. He tried to shut
them out, to keep them away, to bury them deep inside – just as
he did all those years. But now he couldn't do anything. He closed
his eyes as her screams broke through his mind. He was tired, so very
tired. His fogged brain created the old pictures of a past night he
had tried so desperately to forget.

It had been sixteen years since he had watched his own mother's
death. He had never felt so helpless and powerless in his entire
life. As he watched her pitiful death, heard her drowning in her own
blood, he swore to himself he would never – ever – feel
this powerless again. But now he felt the exact same thing after he
had tried so hard to gain more strength. Hell, he would've killed his
own brother, and now what? He was rotting in hell, chained to a wall,
his back scraping against the rough stone, his legs folded underneath
him. His arms were spread out to each of his sides, and held by
powerful chains that were glowing a soft red. Of course he would use
a spell – Mundus was no idiot, he knew too well that no chain
that was not cursed would hold him. After all, he was a son of
Sparda.

He shook his head.

His mother was lying in front of him as her blood was staining his
own clothes, a demon hovering about them. There was some of her flesh
that was still stuck to his claws as a creepy smile formed on his
face, showing some razor sharp fangs. He could taste the salt of his
own tears on his lips again.

Run...

He had seen her form the word with her lips, as she was no longer
able to speak due to the demon that had cut through her throat,
ripping it open.

The demon would turn, but he still couldn't run away as he was
still holding his mother's hand even though the arm that belonged to
this hand wasn't connected to her body anymore. The demon lifted a
reaping hook that was lying in one of his paws, ready to strike down
and cut his head right off his shoulders. As he watched in horror as
the blade came crushing down on him, his dying mother used her last
strength to push up her body to block the blade from hitting him.

He would never forget the sound of how the reaping hook found his
mother's flesh as it cut deep into her chest. He pulled the weapon
out off her, a huge pile of blood forming quickly underneath her
broken body. At this moment he knew his mother was dead.

The pictures repeated themselves over and over in his mind. He
didn't know if it was a trick of Mundus or if his mind had brought
him down this dark road by itself. But he wished it was Mundus –
it was easier to hate him than himself.

He felt like he was going mad right before they came for him. Two
guards opened the chains that kept his pitiful body bound, but he
didn't have any strength left to fight them. He hung heavily between
their bodies as they dragged him along a long, dark corridor that was
only barely lit by candles. They walked through several doors, and he
had long lost count how many of them they had entered. He didn't even
try to look up to see where they brought him, either.

As they walked through the last door, he was brought to the middle
of a small room with a very low ceiling. They pushed him on his knees
as they pulled his arms behind him and bound them together so that
his elbows and wrists were touching each other. Another chain was
hooked into his bonding and attached to the ceiling, and before he
knew it, his arms were lifted above his head with a great force,
causing him to scream as pain rushed through his body. It felt like
his joints had broken during the treatment. A collar was put around
his neck; a chain dangled from it before one was also hooked into a
ring on the ground. This position forced him to lean forward as his
arms were pulled back. His forehead almost touched the ground as he
wasn't able to lift his head. It was damn uncomfortable.

He could hear footsteps approaching as the door cracked open. A
foul smell entered the room and filled his nose.

"You little maggot," he could hear the creature grunt in
a husky voice. "By the end of the day, you will beg for mercy."

Vergil scoffed. Not really.

The first strike hit him without warning, but he welcomed the pain
for it would keep his focus somewhere else than watching the death of
his mother over and over again. Small rivets cut deep into his skin
as the cat o' nine tails hit his back over and over again as every
strike grew stronger. He grunted at the pain, clenching his teeth
together but it was no use. Soon he could hear his own voice joining
the sound of the strikes as he screamed out in pain. He threw curses
at the demon behind him, swinging the whip in its hand, wishing for
all of their deaths as he felt his blood dripping down his body.
After his back was nothing more than a bloody mess, it finally
stopped, and he sighed with relief.

"Shall I give you mercy, maggot?"

He could feel the demons breath crawling over his neck as it
leaned closer to his ear.

"Fuck you," he grunted through clenched teeth. He could
hear the whip rushing through the air as the demon lifted his arm,
but the blow never came.

"Stop."

His voice, deep and low, washed over his body and threatened to
drown him. He felt his body become hot as hate built inside him.

Mundus...

"Are you not broken yet?" the voice asked him as it was
rumbling through his body.

"You're foolish, Mundus. You'll never break a son of Sparda,"
he replied, swallowing the pain that gnawed at his body.

He could hear how the door behind him opened and another person
entered the room, but this time he could smell roses. He felt a knot
starting to grow in his stomach.

"But you will, son of Sparda. You will."

He heard someone shifting behind him and before he could realize
it, he felt acid burning through flesh and muscles. A scream echoed
from the walls surrounding him and it almost sounded inhuman. His
vision began to blur as he so desperately tried to focus on the smell
of roses and not the brutal pain on his back.

He didn't know how long they kept torturing him. After a while he
wasn't able to tell if it was the whip, acid or the burning iron that
attacked him as his whole body was nothing more than pain – it
was the only thing that seemed to exist.

He had lost consciousness again, being brought back with strong,
aromatic salt. His head tried to jerk up but was held in place by the
strong chain, and he whimpered at the sudden pain that exploded
within him.

He heard small footsteps as a person walked around him, stopping
right in front of him. He saw a pair of petite, clean feet in front
of his eyes. The nails were painted in a dark red, and clearly
belonged to a woman. He tried to look up, but couldn't. The smell of
roses was going to overwhelm him.

His mind was no longer working as his body was nearing collapse
from exhaustion. He wanted to say something, but he no longer could
find the words. How pitiful...

"Vergil..." He could hear a voice calling.

Vergil? He blinked a few times.

Yes, that was his name.

He felt a hand brushing his hair softly. Small fingers traced over
his cheek and he caught himself leaning into the warm touch.

"My strong boy..." the voice whispered into his ear as
quick fingers opened the collar around his neck. It dropped to the
floor with a loud rumble. His neck was stiff but he still tried to
lift his head.

"It's almost done."

He saw blond hair falling around soft shoulders and a blue dress
dancing in front of his eyes.

"You're so brave..." She smiled into his ear as she
pressed her lips against his skin, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

He looked up and into her face as the walls and chains were
suddenly gone, and red roses started to bloom around him.

He parted his rough lips, bleeding from where he had bitten them
to muffle his cries. He was breathless like he had run a marathon as
he thought he would lose himself in those gracious eyes.

A broken whisper tore from his lips as he forgot everything.

"Mother..."

Chapter 1: Long Hard Road Out Of Hell

Present day...

He woke with a silent scream upon his lips as the claws of the
nightmare were still stuck in his skull. Cold sweat covered his body
as he tried to free himself from the messy sheets which wound around
his body. His heart was pumping rapidly as he tried to catch his
breath.

He was absolutely sure that he could still feel the blood
trickling down his spine from where the whip had met his skin, but as
he reached behind him to feel his back, there was only smooth skin.

Nero took one deep breath and buried his head in his hands as he
sat up in his bed. As his breath became more even, he took a look
around the small apartment he'd been living the last couple of months
as he tried to figure out what had just happened again.

He swung his legs around to sit at the edge of his bed, his Devil
Bringer lying softly in his human hand. He stared at the soft glowing
fingers.

Thirteen months had passed since the events of the Savior.
Thirteen months since Dante had broken right in in the middle of an
annual ceremony to praise the Dark Knight to kill his holiness –
but Dante didn't only kill the priest back then; he'd also killed
Nero's old life with his actions, without even knowing it, as he
never would.

The young man sighed as he flexed the fingers of his devil arm.
The people of Fortuna had rebuilt the city after nearly everything
was destroyed, and almost nothing led back to the event that almost
cost their lives. But the memories were still fresh, and even though
life seemed back to normal in Fortuna, it wasn't.

People got scared.

He could always feel their eyes on his arm when he walked through
the streets. There wasn't hate or anger, but simply fear of the
demonic power that rested underneath the glowing skin, and he wasn't
even mad about that, because sometimes it frightened him, too. After
he got the sword, Yamato, something changed. His devil side had
awoken and granted him a new level of power. He could trigger during
combat, fighting with the strength of a demon as he used his arm to
send all those poor bastards right back to hell. But the voice that
echoed in his head, the voice that lusted for more power, never
stopped.

Nero pushed himself up and walked to a pair of black denim pants
and a dark red hoodie that lay crumbled on the floor. As he pushed
his head through the hole of the hoodie and arranged his clothes, he
took a look through his one-bedroom apartment. It was small and
simple, nothing luxurious or fancy. There were a few boxes that he
used as furniture, and since he didn't really own anything except for
his bed and some clothes, it seemed bigger than it actually was.

Kyrie would've hated it. Ever since the events thirteen months
ago, she was afraid of small rooms. He couldn't blame her for that.
On that day, she had lost not only her brother, but also her faith.
The first couple of days after he had rescued her, she clung to him
like a child that couldn't be on its own. She was afraid of being
alone; having terrible nightmares and the loss of her brother nearly
killed her as she drowned in the thick waves of sorrow. He had been
there for her, and he always would be. Nothing would ever change
that.

He loved Kyrie. She was his sister – and that was a fact
that had pained him more than fighting against this big, ugly statue
of the Savior. If he would've kissed her right away after he'd
rescued her, he probably would've known right from the beginning –
but he hadn't done that, and the next chance for them to kiss took
another three weeks to come.

It had been a nice and quiet evening. He had helped the other men
to remove rubble from destroyed houses as Kyrie had helped to provide
the people with food and clean water. They had taken a long walk that
led them outside of the city, which upon a small hill they could
watch the sun set. She was sitting right next to him, her feet tugged
underneath her body, one hand resting on his thigh as his arm lay
upon her shoulders. He had pulled her close to him, smelling her hair
as he'd rested his cheek upon her head. It was their first quiet,
peaceful time in weeks, and he'd longed for it.

As the sun dove them into a golden light and the last rays crept
over the city tossing long shadows between the urban canyons, she had
looked at him, and he knew it was the perfect time. Before he
could've stopped it, his lips had captured hers in a small and gentle
kiss. She was surprised by his actions, shy at the beginning as he
had felt her stiffen underneath his touch. She'd return his kiss with
several small pecks, unsure on what to do. One of her small hands had
settled upon his, and he could just tell that she didn't know what to
do or how to react.

After a long minute he broke the kiss to look her in the eyes and
he just knew, even though it was his first kiss, it shouldn't feel
like this. It felt like…

…kissing his sister.

And he didn't want that. He had loved Kyrie for so long that he
didn't know what to do as things didn't turn out as he had expected.
She had looked at him with those big, brown eyes, and he just knew
things would never be as they wanted them to be.

He could still remember those words he had spoken back then.

Kyrie… I think… this – this isn't working.

And she had looked at him and just given him a smile that hurt him
deep inside his chest, not because of the fact that he broke up with
her, but because of her generosity that he'd always admired. One of
her hands had found his cheek, brushing her fingers softly against
his skin.

No, it isn't.

Her words echoing in his memory, he was relieved that she had felt
the same, not wanting to break her heart. But at the same time, he
was sad for something that he'd lost, even though he never really had
it. Someone to love him with all their heart; not caring about the
demonic arm or about the truth and his devil side. Kyrie would love
him, like a sister would, accept him with everything he offered, but
it wasn't the same as he wished for someone who would love him for
all that there was – to be loved emotionally and
physically. Kyrie just wasn't the one to do this.

The window next to him burst into thousands of splinters as glass
and broken pieces of wood rained down on him. He rolled to his side,
taking a hold of Red Queen, leaning against the wall by his side. A
loud shriek cut through the air, making him flinch as the sound
pierced through his ears right into his brain, exploding in a white
light of pain. He pressed a free hand against his head, trying to
keep himself on his feet as the loud scream echoed from the walls. A
blur of black collided with his body and swept him off his feet, his
head hitting the ground hard as the thing above him cut its claws
deep into his shoulders. He brought his human hand up, cutting
through its body. He could witness how the body transformed into
black fog where his knife would've touched the flesh, quickly
reforming into its true self. His sword did no harm at all.

With a grunt, he used his Devil Bringer to reach at the claws in
one of his shoulders, getting a hold of the limb, throwing it away
and smashing it against the wall. The beast screamed loudly as Nero
fought back. As he rose upon his feet, he got a quick look at the
thing that was attacking him.

It was a demon, there was no doubt about that, and it had the form
of a giant bird. Its beak was wide open, showing razor sharp fangs as
it produced another one of its shriek.

Nero clenched his teeth together, wrapping his fingers even
tighter around the hilt of Red Queen.

"This," he pointed the tip of his sword at the bird, "is
starting to piss me off."

He ran forward, taking a high jump as his blade tried to cut
through the bird in mid-air. But the beast was faster, jumping from
its place to the opposite side of the room, where it was hovering in
the shadows.

Give it to us!

He could hear the low rumble of a voice inside his head as the
beast in front of him didn't move its beak – but he instantly
knew that the voice belonged to the demon.

"The hell you're talking about?" he spat back, as he
steadied one of his legs before he sped toward the bird, the blade
right in front of him. The demon tried to avoid the attack by leaping
higher in the air, but Nero saw its move coming. Before the tip of
the sword sliced through the bird's stomach, he put all his of
strength into his legs to push himself from the ground, meeting the
bird in air as he swung Red Queen with all his power forwards,
triggering his devil only seconds before cutting right through one of
its wings. Blood splattered on him as he landed gracefully on one of
his knees, looking up through a curtain of silver hair. The bird
screamed in agony as it still tried to fly again, but its broken wing
was no use. The demon fell upon the floor, pressing its body against
the wall.

A pained scream was heard from the demon as it surrendered to the
injury inflicted by Nero's sword.

You're not human.

The voice in his head sounded surprised.

Nero scoffed. "Tell me something new for once."

The bird tried to stand again, taking a small step forward.

Give it to me! it demanded again.

Nero raised a single eyebrow. "I don't think you're in the
position to demand requests." With his last word, he rushed
forward, crushing his Devil Bringer down on the bird's head. Before
it could shake off the dizziness from Nero's blow, he grabbed the
thing by its neck, jerking it up to look it in the eye.

"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice sounding more
like a deep growl.

I need it... Master… needs it... Give it to me, give it
to us!

"What? What do you want?"

The sword… need the sword!

The bird tried to get away as he swung his left wing, but Nero
crushed him further into the wall, using the upper side of his Devil
Bringer to press into the bird's throat as he let go of his weapon.

"Red Queen?" He looked at his sword from the corner of
his eye, the blade stabbed into the ground. "No way!" He
let go of the demon's neck, grabbing the sword and pushing it through
the devil's belly so it was pinned to the wall. One of its limbs
tried to grab Nero, but he simply took one step backward so it
couldn't reach him.

Yamato…. Give us Yamato!

He blinked, looking at his demonic arm.

Yamato?

He narrowed his eyes, raising the Bringer in front of his eyes.

He will come. He will get it. You cannot let him
have Yamato. We need it. Give it to me!

Nero felt breathless. "Who? Who will come?"

The son of Sparda.

A bright light blinded Nero from further action as a blast wave
tossed him away from the bird. His body collided with another wall,
and he could taste something metallic as blood was spilling into his
mouth as he hit the ground. Stunned, he lifted his head just in time
to witness how three thunderbolts pointed at the creature pinned by
Red Queen on the wall. Only seconds later, flashes were engulfing the
beast before its body caught fire, and within a second was swallowed
by it. It didn't even have time to scream as the life vanished from
its body. His remaining form turned into ash, caught in the moment.
Nero could still see the features of its face, how the beak was wide
open as it had wanted to scream. He shook his head to get the ringing
out of his ears.

He slowly rose to walk towards the bird, trying to put the pieces
of information together so that he could understand what had just
happened. He didn't come very far as a loud rumble shook the earth
underneath his feet, and a bright light was shining through the
broken windows. A storm approached and his focus caught the sky,
where he saw dark clouds tower up, covering the moon quickly. He
slowly walked outside his apartment, gripping Red Queen on his way,
holding it in a defensive manner in front of his body. His shoulders
stiffened as he felt a great force surrounding his body, crushing
down on him and almost pushing him to his knees as the pressure grew
stronger. He looked towards the sky and found the source of the
bright light. He had to cover his eyes as he looked up into three
bright orbits, hovering several feet above him.

"What kind of shit is that?" he murmured to himself,
feeling how Red Queen became heavier in his hand as the force seemed
to grow.

"You thought you could escape?" he heard a voice ask,
growling so low that he almost couldn't understand the words.

"Who the hell are you?"

A chuckle answered him.

"A low, unworthy one like you hasn't earned enough respect to
know, less to speak my name …" the voice murmured, as the
orbs became bigger. "When he comes to you…" the
voice continued, and Nero felt an invisible hand reach out for him,
taking its hold around his body so he wasn't able to move, "you
will, however, deliver him this message: When you thought your
brother could kill me, you were just as foolish as he was. I will
take my revenge. You will never be free of me."

The grasp around his body vanished as Nero stumbled forward,
catching his balance quick.

"And who the fuck is he?"

"The son of Sparda."

Nero rolled his eyes. This shit again…

Before he could respond, the orbs disappeared, the storm died, and
the sky was as clear as it was only minutes before. It was completely
silent; the only thing Nero could hear were the crickets chirping
their music into the night. Fortuna was at peace and it seemed as if
he was the only one who had been able to witness the event that had
just occurred.

"The son of Sparda, eh? Well, I only know one dude who can
call himself that," he smirked to himself. He turned around to
catch some things he would need if he wanted to leave town. A sudden
rush of adrenaline caught his body as he felt a slight tingling in
his demonic arm.

It had seemed as if his life had stood still the last thirteen
months, as if something were missing. Now he felt the rush of life
running through his veins.

Rays of sunlight touched his skin as he walked through the broken
door inside his apartment. He grabbed some things and stuffed them
into a backpack before getting the key to his bike.

"Time to visit some friends."
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Equilibrium