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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
- 3
DISCLAIMER:
I don't own Devil May Cry or any of its characters.

He drew Ebony out
of its holster, holding the gun straight at its target before pulling
the trigger. The bullet hadn't even found its target yet as he
whirled around while he pulled out Ivory, triggering it as well. The
bullets flew through the air and within half a second found their
target. Blood spattered as the demon's head was thrown backwards and
Dante could now see the wall behind it as he looked through the holes
that were left by his guns. A grin formed on his face as he jumped up
in the air, drawing Rebellion. He held the sword with both of his
hands as he swung it over his head to let it crush down on another
beast, cutting the body into two halves. Before his feet touched the
ground again, he spun around in mid-air, using the falling body of
the demon to push himself even higher. He turned, taking Ebony and
Ivory in both hands, pulling the triggers several times. As he landed
on the floor again, the last demon was drawing his last breath before
its body collapsed on the ground.

He whirled Ebony
around one finger, grinning before blowing the steam rising from the
barrel. He put a foot on the dead demon, resting his hand on his
knee, looking around with proudly as he admired his own work.

"That wasn't
so bad," he murmured as his gaze searched the old storage house.
He suddenly turned around, pointing the guns in the dark and fired.
The thunder of the gun was echoing from the walls as the the last
capsule fell on the floor. He waited, as he could hear slow steps
approaching.

"Geez,
Dante. Your bullets weren't even touching me. You're not getting out
of shape, are you?" he heard the female voice calling as a tall,
blonde woman was stepping out of the shadows. He put Ivory back where
it belonged before shaking the head.

"What are
you doing here, Trish?"

A smirk found its
way upon Trish's face as she took slow steps to walk around him,
focusing on him as she did. An elegant hand was used to pull back the
sunglasses that she was wearing. She eyed him.

"Just
checking on my old partner." She smiled as she rested her hands
on her hips, the black leather corset barley covering her upper body.

He smirked.
"You're not here to steal my reward while I had to do all the
dirty work?"

She lifted a hand
to lay it in a dramatic manner upon her chest. "Seriously,
Dante, that hurt," she told him, rolling her eyes at him, before
her hand fell back to her side. She took another step so she could
stand in front of him. Her arm reached out and her hand cupped his
cheek. He jerked away.

"Cut it
out."

"I actually
came to make you an offer," she told him, her smile never
leaving her face as she walked slowly around him, one hand now lazily
resting on his shoulder. Her fingers brushed over the fabric, leaving
a tingling trail.

"And this
couldn't wait until after I'm done with the job and collected my
money? Seriously, Trish, if you think I'm gonna share..."

"Shut up."
She stopped behind his back, embracing him from behind, resting her
chin upon his shoulder. He could feel her smile. "Remember the
days we used to be partners?"

"I'd rather
not," he replied, freeing himself from her touch, turning around
to face her.

"But we had
good times," she purred softly at him, taking one step back.

Dante rubbed his
neck, staring at the ground before looking up again. "We had
good times, but the end was pretty ugly. Don't you remember?"

Trish laughed.
"And that's why I would never be your partner again, Dante. I
got an offer for a mission. I could use some help with it. The job
pays pretty well." She smirked with her last words.

"Money, huh?
How much?" He rose one eyebrow.

"Enough to
finally pay off your debt."

Dante let out a
laugh that sounded more like barking. "I didn't think there was
enough money in this whole world to pay off my debt. Okay, now tell
me, where's the hook?"

Trish flipped one
of the dead demons with her foot to the other side, looking at the
ugly blood-spattered face. "Hook? What's that supposed to mean?"
she asked him innocently.

Dante sighed and
turned around. "I really don't have time for your games."
He started to leave.

"Oh, yeah,
because your pizza's getting cold? Come on, Dante, you've spent the
past months slaying low-minded demons in this hellhole of town, not
earning enough money to pay your rent. You have nothing better to do,
so just say yes and come with me to Lintfort."

Dante stopped
abruptly.

"Lintfort?"
he asked.

Trish nodded.
"Yeah, Lintfort. Interested?" she asked.

"Depends,"
Dante muttered. "Never heard of it."

Trish shook her
head. "Wouldn't have thought so. Lintfort is a coal mine a few
hundred miles from here. You know, coal, the little black rocks that
you use to... "

"Cut to the
chase, Trish."

"Well, you
know, a few weeks ago some weird things started to happen there after
the workers drilled a new shaft. People were killed, Dante. Their
bodies came up with the lift; they were literally shredded. They had
to identify them on the basis of their teeth. The survivors think
they woke something up down there. They want me to go down, looking
for the thing that did this to their men."

"And what do
you need me for?"

Trish's face
formed a frown. "I don't know what to expect down there, Dante.
No one ever saw the thing that did this to these men..."

Dante slightly
turned his head to look at Trish out of the corner of his eyes.
"What? Don't tell me you're scared."

"I'm not.
Let's just say I have a big amount of respect. I saw the pictures of
the bodies. I've never seen such brutality before. And that says
a lot, you know, since I served Mundus and saw what he was capable of
doing."

"So let me
guess: no one wants to go down there and work."

Trish nodded.
"The company who runs the mine is willing to pay everything to
get rid of this problem. With every day that passes without the
miners working, they're losing money. A lot."

Dante scoffed.
"Knock yourself out, kiddo." He started to walk towards the
gate that stood wide open; dim light was falling through it, casting
big shadows on the wall behind him.

Trish couldn't
believe what she just had heard. "Wait! Dante, are you nuts? You
can't turn this down!"

"I can and,
oh, I believe I just did. Go play with your little demon, Trish, but
I'm still waiting for a challenge; for something big."

"Something
big? Like, let's say, a big ass statue with fucking ugly wings and
some punk who thinks he can wield a sword?"

As Dante reached
the gate, he stopped. "Maybe," he answered her, not turning
around and instead looking into the dark sky of the night.

Trish sighed.
Slowly, she took one step after another until she was only an arm's
length away from him. "What are you really waiting for, Dante?"
Her voice was soft.

"Nothing,"
he murmured. She lifted her hand to reach out for him, but he
instantly turned away.

"Stop doing
this, Trish," he warned her.

"Doing
what?"

"Acting like
my mother. It's already enough that you look like her. I don't need a
fucking babysitter."

"You're such
a pain in the ass, Dante. Seriously. Stop wasting your time already.
He's not coming back."

She could see how
his shoulders stiffened. "I'd thought that before, and I was
wrong." His voice was unusually soft and she almost didn't hear
his whispered words.

"Fine,"
she finally gave up. "Act like this. I don't give a damn. I'm
going to leave for Lintfort tonight."

He nodded. "Let
me now what it was you found down there when you're back."

She grinned. "No
way, old bastard. If you wanna know, you have to come look for
yourself. I ain't telling you shit." She walked around him,
strolling to her bike that was parked a few feet away under a light
post.

He watched as she
swung one leg over the saddle, starting the engine before she pulled
down her sunglasses. "Come back to the present, Dante. Don't let
the past drown you." With that, she took off, leaving him behind
her.

He shook his head
as the memories started to find their way into his mind. This was
definitely not the right time to indulge in the past. He lifted
Rebellion onto his shoulder as he walked back to his red sports scar.
He opened the door, laying Rebellion down on the back seat before
sitting himself behind the wheel.

He didn't start
the engine as he just stared into nothing. He was wondering how a
good day could end this bad. Damn Trish. She always knew what was
going on in his head even though he tried so hard to keep her out.

That sword...
was used to separate our world from the demons. I can't have
something of that kind of power floating around, now can I?
It's gotta stay in the family.

I need
this.

He could swear,
just swear, that he heard the voice of his brother instead of the
kid's, Nero. As he remembered those words, a chill went through his
whole body. As he heard those words, he'd thought for a second
that it was not Nero standing in front of him, but his brother. Truth
to be told, Nero did look a little bit like Vergil, when he
was his age. Even though he knew that Nero was nothing like Vergil,
that it was a whole product of his fantasy, he liked to think that
Yamato chose Nero because of his resemblance to its former master.
Yes, he would like to think that... because it gave him the feeling
that his brother was not truly gone – at least not all of him.

He started the
engine, suddenly punching the steering wheel with his fist as anger
began taking over his mind.

Trish was right.

He had to let go
of the past. Vergil was gone. He'd waited the past several
months for a sign of him. He somehow thought that the events in
Fortuna did mean to tell him something. That Yamato was rebuilt, it
couldn't just be a coincidence. He wanted it to be more. He wanted it
to be Vergil. But the reality wasn't like that.

And what would he
have done if Vergil really did show up? What did he expect? That his
brother would have suddenly changed? That they wouldn't try to kill
each other? That they - he laughed at this thought because it was too
ridiculous - could be a family again? No. Vergil would never change.
Never. Even if he did make it back to the world of the
living... no.

But after the
death of their mother, Vergil was everything he had left. He was his
twin, and he was barely older than Dante, but he was the one that
pulled them through. It wasn't like he had been lost without his
brother, but it would have been a lot harder, and hell, how hard it
was even for them together. He shuddered at the memories that kept
coming into his mind. Those years they spent together, he would
rather forget them. Never again would he like to live through
something like that. Not knowing what the next day would bring, not
knowing if they would still be alive the next week.

But then
something happened. Vergil changed and Dante changed. They drifted
apart day by day – at first he didn't see it coming, and in the
end, when he finally realized it, it was already too late.

Vergil had left
him. Without a word, without letting him know. He woke up the next
day with his brother gone. Vergil was gone. He was
alone. Just like that, everything had changed. Just like that.

People said the
night his mother died, he'd also lost a brother, and even though
Vergil had survived just like him, the people were still right. That
night, he did lose a mother and a brother. Mundus' devils
might not have harmed Vergil, but they killed something deep inside
him. Dante realized too late what it was that went missing on this
night. After they had to run for their lives, they both changed.
Dante wasn't as free and careless as he used to be, and Vergil aged
years over night.

Dante sighed. He
took the wheel and undid the handbrake to drive back to the Devil
May Cry as a single tear rolled down his face before it fell on
his coat, sinking into the soft fabric.

Chapter 2: The
Red And Blue Pill

"So, you're
twins?" A creepy smile formed on the man's face as his gaze
flickered between the two boys in front of him. "How much for
both of you?"

One of them shook
his head. "He's not for sale." He pointed his thumb at the
other who was looking like he was in shock. His eyes were big and his
mouth hung slightly open. Even though the brightness of a street
light nearby didn't give enough light, the older man could still see
the disgust on the face of the other brother.

"Pity,"
he said before raising a hand, touching the chin of the boy and
turning his head from one side to the other, like he inspected an
animal that was ready for slaughter. "I would love to see you
suck him off." With those words, the other boy suddenly turned
around, emptying his stomach in the middle of the street. He was
slightly bent over, resting his hands on his knees to support
himself.

"Don't do
this." He whispered his words, not turning around to look at his
brother.

"Trust me,"
he told his brother, his chin still wrapped in the dirty hand of his
costumer.

"You're a
good boy, aren't you?" the man asked him, before his hand
dropped down, resting lazily on his shoulder before he turned it
around so his knuckles would brush against the fabric of his clothes,
wandering down his sides to his hips.

"One
hundred," he suddenly said as he started to shiver at the touch.
He strongly fought against his instinct to punch the other right in
the face, breaking his fucking jaw.

"One
hundred? I'm starting to think you're ripping me off, boy!" The
hand found his back, rubbing gently up and down his spine. He leaned
forward until his lips brushed over the shell of his ear.

"Fifty. And
that's final. You either take it or you don't. But trust me, you
don't wanna see me mad." He kissed his ear with his last words.
The boy tried to get away from his touch but he quickly grabbed both
his wrists, holding him right where he was.

The boy turned
his head, looking around to face his brother. The other boy, still
standing a few feet away, was trying to re-catch his breath as nausea
was still consuming him. As he felt the eyes of his brother on his
back, he turned his head.

"Don't,"
he pleaded, but his brother shook his head.

"Trust me,"
he told him again, before turning back to the man. "Fifty,"
he told him then. A big grin found its way on his face as he tugged
the boy closer to his body.

"Don't
worry. You won't regret it, not when I'm done with you." He
glanced over the head of him. "I'll bring him back in no time. I
promise he'll be still able to walk," he told the brother before
turning around, never letting go of the boy's wrists.

"Unless you
want me to fuck you mercilessly," he murmured quietly as he
walked towards a dark alley where the light of the street couldn't
reach the shadows. He shoved the boy behind a dumpster, pressing him
against the cold wall. His fingers soon found its way underneath his
clothes, roaming over his body like a starving man.

"Take it
off," he told him huskily as he took a step back to get a better
look at the young body. He did as he was told, opening the zipper
from his black hoodie until he could push it over his shoulders, the
fabric falling on the ground. He took the edges of the white tank top
he was wearing underneath, pulling it over his head before it
followed the hoodie to the ground as well. A chill ran down on him as
his warm skin was exposed to the cold night.

He looked at the
man, starting to think that the only thing that was left for him was
to start drooling as he literally already fucked him in his mind.

"Oh, you're
pretty," he breathed as he rushed forward, crushing his body
against his as his hands traced his abs, running up and down his
sides as his lips found their way to his throat.

He stood there,
motionless. He was disgusted by the man and by himself, his gaze
focusing nowhere as he tried to ignore the little moans the man gave
as he touched him everywhere. He felt a hand traveling down his
stomach until it reached the waistband of his trousers. Skillful
fingers found their way underneath it, his hand cupping his sex
before he wrapped his fingers around his cock.

"What's
that?" he whispered into his ear. "You're not even
excited." He pulled away, opening the boy's pants as he stared
into his eyes. Never leaving his gaze, he was kneeling down, pushing
his pants down far enough to expose his cock. "Really pretty,"
he said more to himself as his tongue reached out to lick its way all
over his shaft. He could feel the boy shudder as he touched him. He
opened his mouth to take him all the way in, and the boy gasped in
surprise. His head bobbed up and down as he swallowed his cock,
giving him his first blow job ever. Soon his body started to react to
his touch, his member starting to get hard as he felt he was ready to
vomit. He bit down on his hand, trying to keep the moans away. He
hated him for that; he hated his powerless body that betrayed his
mind. The man pulled his mouth away, using his hand to pump him as he
looked up to the boy's face.

"You're such
a whore," he told him, grinning with each word. Vergil's gaze
shot down on him, anger and hate slowly taking over him. He finally
decided that it was enough. He put his hands on the man's shoulder as
he pushed him roughly away. "What...?" the man asked,
surprised, as he fell down backwards, but couldn't say anymore as
Vergil's foot found his face, breaking his nose. His head and the
rest of his body flew backwards by the force of the kick. One hand
shot up to his face, blood spilling through his fingers.

"You
bastard! You fucking little bastard!" he yelled in pain, but
Vergil rushed forwards, sitting down on the man's chest, pinning him
to the ground with his weight. He grabbed the man's chin, forcing him
to look at him.

"Don't
worry," he told him, "You'll still be able to walk. Unless
you want me to beat you mercilessly." He smirked before his fist
crushed down on the man's face over and over again. His knuckles were
soon covered in blood as bones broke underneath his blows, the yells
of the man echoing from the walls of the alley. The yells turned into
gurgles as he slowly started to choke on his own blood. But Vergil
didn't stop. He hit him over and over again with both his hands
before he suddenly stopped. The face of the man was nothing more than
a bloody mess now. With wide eyes he stared at the boy above him, not
able to speak anymore as his jaw was broken and most of his teeth
were gone.

Vergil reached
into his pocket, drawing a knife out of it and holding it in front of
the man's face. He chuckled softly as he saw panic on his face. With
a quick movement he cut through the man's throat, slicing it open as
blood poured down on the ground. The man looked in silent shock at
him.

"I guess I
was lying," Vergil simply told him as he saw the life leaving
the man in front of him before he was finally dead, his blood
covering him. He quickly pulled away from the view that lie in front
of him as he searched through the man's clothes, looking for his
wallet. He found it in a pocket of his pants. As he saw what was
inside, he scoffed.

"So were
you." He threw the empty wallet away. The man had never meant to
pay him; he didn't even have a dollar on him. He decided to continue
his search and was looking through every pocket, hoping he would find
a bundle of money or something that was valuable as well. But
nothing. He found nothing.

He got up,
looking down at the dead man, not feeling anything besides disgust.
He looked down at his hands, covered in blood. Was this really him?
How low did he sink... he was ashamed of himself.

Vergil slowly
turned around, finding his way back to his brother. He saw him
sitting underneath a street light, his head resting on his knees as
he had pulled them close to his body. When he heard footsteps
approaching, he got up. His eyes widened as he saw his brother,
covered in blood and with his upper body naked.

"Are you
hurt?" he asked, not moving from where he was standing.

"Don't be
ridiculous," Vergil told him as Dante removed his own hoodie,
handing it over to him while he remained with only a dark red t-shirt
covering his chest. The older brother gladly took it and pulled it
over his head.

"We need to
go," he told his brother, not looking back as he started to walk
down the empty street.

"What
happened?" his brother wanted to know, jogging a little to catch
up with Vergil.

"Reality
found us, Dante. That's what happened. Reality found us."

XXX

He woke up, not
remembering how long he had slept, the last fuzzy images of the past
dream slowly slipping away as his mind drifted into consciousness. He
looked around. His office was in the same condition as it had been
when he had returned from the old warehouse, Trish's words coming
back in waves into his mind. He stretched as he rose from his chair
where he had been sleeping, taking his feet off his desk. He stared
into empty space.

He hadn't thought
of this night for many, many years. He never knew what had happened,
for Vergil had never told him. But he still remembered looking up
from where he was sitting, seeing his brother coming back out of the
alley, covered in blood and with his hoodie and shirt missing. Those
were the days where they both lived on the street after they'd run
away from the orphanage, where they had lived for two years after
their mother's death. Now he couldn't get rid of the picture of his
brother's icy blue eyes that stood hard in contrast to the blood.

It had been his
idea. They needed the money. He had seen it a few days before as he
was wandering around the city, reaching a neighborhood that was no
place for children at all. He heard muffled voices, moaning, and
small sighs. He became interested and followed them, witnessing how a
young boy, almost a teenager, was kneeling in front of a man, his
dick in his mouth as he gave him a blow job. He watched till they'd
finished, the white cum covering the boy's face as he licked it
slowly away. The man gave him money, quickly adjusting his clothes
before disappearing in the opposite direction.

But Vergil
wouldn't let him. Dante always knew his brother felt responsible for
him, and he hated how his brother was treating him. But to be honest,
he was glad that his first sexual experience wasn't in the back of an
alley on his knees while sucking some random stranger off. Now he
wished Vergil could have said the same.

As he took an old
pizza box, flipping it open and seeing it was empty, he felt guilt
gnawing at him as he tossed the empty box away.

This wasn't how
it was supposed to be. They weren't supposed to live on the street
fighting with bums and rats about their food. Vergil wasn't supposed
to sell his body to make some money for them to buy food and
medicine. But it had been reality for them for a long time.

"But not
anymore," he told himself as he glared at Rebellion, hanging
from the wall to his right side.

When did he turn
into such a pussy? He scoffed at his own foolishness.

He shouldn't
think about those things. He shouldn't wait for a sign that would
prove that Vergil still existed, that he was somewhere out there. He
shouldn't hope for his brother to change if he's still alive. He
shouldn't do so many things.

What he should do
was to hunt devils and kill them, one by one. He took a few steps to
get a hold of Rebellion, resting it on his shoulder. It was a
familiar weight pushing into his body.

He was supposed
to be Dante, a son of Sparda – not a whiny wuss that couldn't
get over the past and the loss of his brother, only because of some
punk that wielded Yamato. The events in Fortuna had caught him off
guard; he'd never expected to see the sword of his brother again, and
then there it was, lying in the hands of a boy that had the same look
in his eyes as Vergil had.

No.

He shook his
head. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn't like that. This was
not him. Maybe he should go to help Trish. Maybe this was the
mission he'd waited so long for. It was an opportunity for him to
leave his thoughts behind while he could kick the ass of some demon.
He smirked. Yes, he could do that and would like it. This town here
was indeed a hellhole. It's depressing charm was getting to him.

He put Rebellion
on his back, reaching for Ebony and Ivory, before heading to his door
to open it. If Trish would think to collect the reward for herself,
well, she was wrong. He was coming for it, too, and hell, how he
needed it and Dante wasn't thinking about the money.

His foot found
the door, not caring to use the doorknob, as it flew open. Fresh,
cold morning air hit his face as he stepped outside, bumping into
something solid and warm.

He was stumbling
backwards, trying to see what it was that had collided into him. He
turned his head, looking at a young man who was sitting on the
ground, holding his head as his focus found Dante.

"What the
hell?" Nero asked him, angry as he pushed himself up from the
ground in one liquid motion.

"Fuck,"
Dante said to himself as he rolled his eyes, looking up and shaking
his head. Fate was indeed cruel. Thirteen months had passed since the
last time he saw the young man, and he never really thought he would
see him again. What business would he have at Fortuna? Right, there
was nothing. Unless some religious freak would want to open Hell
again... well, you could never really know, so there was slight
chance that it could actually happen. But other than that, no, he
would've never thought to see Nero again and now he was here,
standing in front of him on the same day where his thoughts would
bring him back to the day he fought Nero over Yamato. Well, wasn't
that a coincidence... not.

"Well, look
what I've found," he smirked, eying the young man from top to
bottom. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, a bright grin on
his face. "If it isn't a lost little kitty."

He could already
see how anger fumed from Nero as the young hunter threw daggers at
him with his mere gaze. "And here I'm asking myself why I'd
come," he murmured more to himself than to Dante, as he shoved
the hunter to the side so he could enter the office of Devil May Cry.
He wrinkled his nose as he saw the mess surrounding him. There were a
few empty pizza boxes lying around the floor as well as on Dante's
desk, the couch was covered with empty beer cans so that there was
almost no space to sit, the drum set near the entrance was covered by
an inch of dust at least and it smelled like fresh air never found
its way inside the building.

Nero turned
around as he realized that Dante didn't show any intention to follow
him inside. "So I guess you were leaving...?" The question
hung heavily in the air as Dante tried to figure out what he should
do.

There he was:
Nero, the Ghost of Christmas Past, standing in the middle of the
Devil May Cry, probably wanting money, because truth was, that was
the only thing people wanted from him lately these days. He sighed
deeply, taking a hold of the door frame. He looked at those deep blue
eyes, the soft blonde hair that was so bright it almost appeared to
be silver, the blue coat he wore and his sword hanging from his back.
He was a little bit smaller and his chin was brighter than Vergil's
was, the lips a little bit more full but other than that, he really
looked like his brother when he was his age.

Dante felt like
he took the wrong exit off the Interstate and now he was heading
straight to a place he really wouldn't want to be in.

"Still am,"
he finally answered him, attempting to turn around, but he felt a
hand on his shoulder.

"I drove all
night to meet you, Dante. I think it's better if you stay. There's
something you should hear." The voice of the boy sounded husky
as he spoke the words low, almost as if he were afraid the wrong
person could hear him.

"Does it
involve money?"

Nero looked
surprised, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't, it..."

Dante pulled
himself away. "Well, then I believe it has to wait. See, kid,
some of us have an actual job to do and if you would excuse me, that
is exactly what I'm going to do now: getting myself a big ass reward
doing what I do best, killing devils."

He turned away,
heading down the stairs that lead away from the office, but his arm
was caught again in a firm grip. He looked own and saw Nero's Devil
Bringer, his fingers wrapped around his arm, glowing in a very soft
blue.

"I drove all
night and day to get to you, Dante. The least you can give me are a
few minutes for you to listen to what I have to say."

Wow – the
boy sounded serious. He rose an elegant eyebrow as he looked at the
boy from the corner of his eyes. The truth was, he really wanted
to know why Nero showed up at the steps of his door after more than a
year since they last met. But as he saw the Devil Bringer, knowing
what laid beneath the flesh and muscles, he felt like running away.
He could feel the power of his brother's sword resting within
Nero. With Nero it was like taking the path to his past and he really
wasn't up for that. But looking at the boy's serious face, he
felt like he had no choice.

He sighed.
"Alright. Fair is fair. You have three minutes to tell me what
the hell you want."

Nero pulled him
inside. "Not here. Close the door."

Dante looked
surprised at the kid for ordering him around, but did as he was told
as Nero found his way through the mess, sweeping a few cans off the
couch before sitting down. He leaned forward, putting the tips of his
fingers together and taking a deep breath. He licked his lips and
opened his mouth, but closed it again, before opening again, starting
to say something, before he stopped again.

"Seriously,
boy, don't stretch it and just tell me," Dante growled as he
stood in front of the boy, his hand clutched into a fist as he
trembled in anticipation.

"Alright,"
Nero breathed out, before he locked his gaze with Dante's, "it
happened last night. I woke up because of some... dream. I was
attacked by a demon, a low minded little fuck. He wasn't much of a
challenge for me." With those last words he flexed his Devil
Bringer. "It tried to tell me something, kept on blabbering
about some master and it..." He paused, note sure how to say it.
"It told me it wanted Yamato."

There it was.

Dante was
surprised. He could feel how his mouth hung slightly open, but he
closed it quickly once he realized that Nero was staring at him. He
cleared his throat. "And...?" he signalized the boy to
continue.

"It told me
someone was coming for it, and I shouldn't let him have it."
Nero's voice was thick as his gaze dropped. "It told me it would
be you."

Dante's eyes got
bigger. This just kept getting better and better. Now he really,
really, really wanted to know what Nero had to say.

"But before
I could get more out of it, it was killed."

"Killed? By
who?" Dante asked him, hearing how foreign his own voice sounded
as he felt excitement taking over his body.

"I don't
know. Looked like some kind of lightning, or energy."

"Like a
thunderbolt?" It sounded a lot like Trish. But what would she be
doing in Fortuna?

"Yeah, like
that. But there's more. After it was killed, there was something
approaching. I could feel its power, Dante. Not even during the whole
Savior disaster I felt something like it. It didn't have a form, but
there was a voice speaking to me. It told me to tell you this: 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."

It was silent for
a long moment after Nero had finished. He looked eagerly at Dante,
witnessing how the man stared off into empty space.

Some dude was
after the Yamato, wanting it before he, Dante, would acquire it. Some
voice telling him that Vergil had tried to kill it and hadn't
succeeded whatsoever, and that it wants revenge. So far he got
everything, but – what the hell? He didn't even have one clue
what was going on, now wishing he would have just went on to join
Trish, not caring about Nero or why he was at his office.

"Does it
ring a bell, Dante?"

First things
first: Why would he, Dante, want to have the Yamato? He gave it to
Nero.

"Dante?
Dante... Dante. Dante."

Second: Who the
fuck pissed Vergil off so that he wants his revenge with Dante? This
sounded absolutely crazy; it sounded just like his life.

"Hey!
Dante!"

Dante jerked,
staring at Nero as the young man stood in front of him, shaking him
by his shoulders.

"Do you have
any idea what this means?"

"No. I have
no clue. But to think that Vergil can still get on my fucking nerves
even though he's dead... whew, that's a bummer." He scratched
the back of his head. But inside him he was wondering just how tight
Vergil's grasp really was... he was dead, yes, but it seemed that he
still owned Dante. No matter how hard he tried, he still wasn't free
of him.

Reality sunk into
him.

"Do you
really want Yamato? I thought you gave it to me."

Dante looked at
him. "I did and no, I don't want the sword."

"Then maybe
we should find out who would think that," Nero suggested.

Dante frowned.

Yes. Maybe he
should. He shook his head. "Yes, Nero, that's a good idea. I
should do that. Now, go home before that little girl of yours
cries her eyes out because you're gone."

Nero scoffed,
scratching his nose as he looked away, a faint blush turning his
cheeks a faint red. "She's not my girl..." he told Dante.

Two elegant
eyebrows shot up. "Don't tell me you're getting scared at night
and need someone to hold your hand while..."

"Shut up,
jerk!" Nero shouted before his fist collided with his chin.

"This isn't
just your problem, it's mine as well. Someone wants revenge on you,
someone wants Yamato; that means he needs to come to me. We're
together in this," he told the older slayer, as his blow threw
him a couple feet away. He slowly rose to his feet.

"Still that
same punk, huh? Alright, we're in this together."

Nero offered him,
in a weird manner, his right hand. "Partners?" he asked
Dante.

He smirked.
"Partners."
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