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Dreams Will Be Made Of These	By : Britt_601 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3810 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry or its characters. Blah, blah, blah-no money is made off of this either.

Chapter List
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Chpt 24: Don't Play With Me
Two Hours Earlier
Enough time passed to allow the teen to put on his work clothes. Instead of his navy-blue undershirt, a white t-shirt nested under his red sweater. Unfortunately, the dried mud caked into his jacket required a thorough cleaning, Nero opting to wrap his arm in a bandaged sleeve up to his shoulder, then don the arm brace. If he needed to leave, he could take his back holster to hold his blade.
The old rotary phone rang on the wooden table by the couch. Nero ran out the kitchen, chicken and rice burrito spilling on the floor to answer the call. He took two chunks out of the snack before mumbling out “hello” into the receiver, wanting to bite into the grub once more before his voice came through to his hearing.
The youth coughed, a piece of the poorly-chewed meat lodging in his throat from that jackass calling. His premature deductions made him believe the elder called to talk about the kiss instead of him dialing for a ride or to report his findings.
Oh... well―screw him.
Trish came out the kitchen with buffalo-flavored chips and a bowl of spinach dip, seeing the phone in his one hand and the burrito in the other.
“Hello?” Dante's words rung clear into the receiver, puzzled why nobody answered him.
Trish juggled the bag and the container in one arm, patting the youth on his back to dislodge the food stuck in his throat.
The shock of the hybrid's voice surprised him, trapping him in his current problem. Oh well, there wasn't anything to be concerned about, it's only Dante. Then again, that's the very person one needed to worry over...
“Hello... anybody home?”
The partial-demon catapulted the piece of chicken out his moist cavern, holding the phone against his shoulder with deep breaths expanding his lungs, pushing out the used air through his scorched throat. A moment later when he calmed he handed the receiver to Trish, in which she took in her hand and placed it back between his neck and shoulder.
“Why'd you pick up if you're not gonna answer me?”
Salmon-tinted lips dropped open, blinking twice after her reciprocated actions. A pinched forehead responded to the act; taking the phone off his shoulder and returning it to her.
“I need to talk to someone now!” Small traces of annoyance shot through the gadget, but the listeners ignored him.
Trish gave an opened-fingered push against the handle where Nero clutched it, driving it back against him. He, in turn, gripped the gizmo harder and pressed it to her, her hand still placed against his.
“The hell is going on now, answer the phone!”
Both demon hunters of different origins held the receiver between them, each leaning the phone towards the other while, concurrently, keeping the device away from them.
“I swear if I have to come down there to get what I need...”
Viewing this as a friendly wager, they added a snivel of physical power to their push-pull tournament, Dante spewing out threats either party cared less to acknowledge.
Ceruleans stared into sky blues, pupils locked onto each other's visages; daring the other to give more force, a little more of a shove. Magical energy invisibly met in a stand-off, to challenge the other in lieu of victory.
“That's it, I'm coming down there...”
The blond's lips opened and thinned prior to blowing a kiss at Nero, breaking his concentration to lose the pushing battle, having the phone pressed against him, muffling the hybrid's indignant cries.
“Hey... hey, what's going on? Trish? Is that you? I know it is. Nero can't kiss even if you teach him.”
The demonic diva looked on as Nero's cheeks morphed from a darkening pink to a blushing red settling on his forehead and under his eyes. She received an open glimpse of the problems Nero endured from Dante; she should know because she became fodder for his banter some time ago.
The youth's best bet is to play Dante's game or ignore him. Though their testosterone-induced nature said they'll keep challenging each other. She gave two sympathetic pats on his shoulder, heading into the garage, leaving Nero to deal with his present nightmare.
Oh, this carried on to be fun. Not only did it appear like Dante forgot about that kiss, but he reverted back to his dorky self, though his voice seemed cool and distant. But where did it leave him? Should he just... forget it happened; to scrap it into his memory bank?
All right... he'd be fine with it, kinda. But the question remained of this situation happening. Only then he could forget the circumstance... and increase his personal space away from the veteran.
“Hell-fucking-o!”
“Shut up!” Nero snapped into the phone. “You nag too much.”
“Me... ? Nag? I'm not the one with developing hormones—”
“What do you want, Dante?”
“Well if someone would have answered—”
The teen didn't wait to hang up.
Maybe he wasn't over Dante's devil-may-care attitude. Or rather he wasn't over the idea that Dante was over their (the dope's) lip lock. Not that it should be a matter in which he dwelled on but he... he needed closure.
He went through life solving puzzles and learning the reasons things happened the way they did, especially when it concerned him.
The phone rung again with Nero looking at it in dismay, letting it ring three times before he picked up.
“What.”
“And if I'm a customer? Shouldn't you answer the phone with a bit of courtesy? Aft—”
“Did you call for something?”
Silence met him on the receiver, making him wonder if the elder expressed his surprise by his blunt attitude, or whether he forgot the reason he called. A clicking of the tongue resounded before a slight sigh escaped into the receiver.
“Okay... I get ya.” A small chuckle played into his ear. “Trish is there, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Has she been there long?”
“I'd say so.”
“Hmm...”
Dante picked up on Nero's distant temperament, humored over his pissy attitude. In light of the youth's demeanor, he thought it silly to fret over something so insignificant as a kiss. Damn, just how hard did he mull on this?
“Did anything swing by the office?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, was it something that bleeds?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Did you kill it?”
“With fire.”
Aw, was the brat going to nag on with his senseless prattle? Dante wasn't that good with people and their emotions; the speaker having a tendency to rage on to emotional babbling. It rested on Nero who muttered with vague hints and missing words, never saying what's on his mind until backed into a corner. Only then would he lash out and pour out his thoughts, stating how he truly... oh.
“Marco.”
“Polo.”
Click.
That red-wearing idiot. Where the hell did he get off on cracking jokes at a time like this knowing, Nero assumed, he wasn't in the best of moods? And to top it off, Dante didn't get to say what he called for. Too bad, his loss.
A piece of the chicken and rice burrito found its way into his mouth, looking at the old rotary phone in dispirit, daring it to let out a ring. Unfortunately, technological creations of an older era didn't possess the intellectual input humans commanded of them, and thus the shrilling of the talking contraption continued.
He let the thing jangle four times, glaring in disdain over this childish game continuing. The pause in Dante's monologue earlier told him Dante realized his... lack of enthusiasm, and he should have adjusted his attitude accordingly. He'd appreciate it if Dante kicked him in the shin or head-butted him, then he can treat the incident as a mere misdemeanor. But... kissing is a whole different matter.
Kissing involved a personal link belonging to those who wanted to express their longing for a deeper connection, usually between lovers. It can be even used as a joke for both parties to laugh at later. But what the veteran did reached passed a gag, almost feeling as the lip lock was intimate.
Nonetheless, Nero inhabited the same guilt; he could have snatched his peckers from the touch too. But he clamored in a state of shock so he had a good reason to stay still; what occupied Dante's excuse?
On the sixth ring he picked up the receiver, holding the phone away from him before he looked at it, mildly wondering if he could yell for Trish to tell her to handle this problem; he wasn't in the mood.
“Any reason why you keep hanging up on me?”
“Any reason you keep asking stupid questions?”
“Any reason you won't let me talk?”
“Any reason for you to say something important right now?”
“Any reason why you're still angry about that kiss?”
Nero remembered hanging the phone up after the elder quickly shouted his need of a purple book. He also recalled how the elder's question strangely... emboldened him.
At first, his words stunned him into silence at the audacity with which he asked the inquiry. All the same, some invigorating force pulled away from his quiet and shocked demeanor, giving the youth a brazen zeal needed to respond with bravery. And his answer comprised a detailed but brief point.
He lowered his voice, looking around to make sure Trish wasn't near. “I don't know, you tell me. The only time you kiss someone is when you want to main them with affection. And you shouldn't have kissed me because there was none to give.”
The further he dwelled on it the more he bristled, growing uncomfortable that Dante did kiss him to shut him up instead of any other method. Surely a headbutt would have been a refreshing step-up from that stint.
He continued on with a piece of info Dante could sink his teeth into, mindful to keep his voice low. “You have your priorities mixed up if you think your actions are law, and you can do as you please. Be careful now, might screw around and get your feelings hurt.”
“We'll see, sweetheart.” The hybrid spat the words out in mockery to Nero's cool tone, hanging up the phone as soon as he voiced out his request.
The youngster... liked this new vocal version of him―wherever it originated from. Or perchance he reverted to his old self after the blows he took to his ego. Whatever the case, his confidence bloomed in glory, able to stand up to the elder despite his blunt question. It hinted that Trish's advice rang true: play Dante's game or expect to be played. Funny how those words came to life, above all when Dante couldn't provide a better comeback to his bold answer.
If he went with this mindset to future interactions with Dante, then his feathers wouldn't ruffle so easily. A good notion to think of; he wondered how the femmes put up with the red one for so long, given his irritating ways.
After briefly asking Trish for directions to the police station, he scurried upstairs to his bedroom, closing it before looking in either suitcase for the keys to the four-wheeler. When he found them he quickly left and shut the room door, donning his work clothes and inventory to ride out there to deliver the goods. And the goods he will deliver via the all terrain vehicle.
A confidence-boosting high wrapped snugly around him since the chat with the elder, giving him a suave bravado to be bold as he should, to ride up on the red hunter with a class all his own.
Such a shame he didn't know how to maneuver one, but it looked simple enough to operate, hence too much trouble shouldn't come about. And it didn't function like a motorcycle from the appearance alone; balance issues wouldn't pose a heavy problem.
Geared up and ready to go he ventured into the garage, lifting the handle up so he would have a clean break to drive.
Trish stood near the 2008 Yamaha Raptor 700, admiring its blue and black colors and detail; the 'hood' of the ATV looking similar to a detailed mask worn by lethal mercenaries. Upon viewing the handles, there were a few buttons and switches to press, figuring out which button did what.
“This is all yours?” Trish asked as the last of the chip bag emptied, the bowl of dip somewhere out of his view.
“Nope, but it is now,” Nero gloated with a gleam in his eye. “Oh yeah, do you know where that 'damned purple book' is 'cause Dante needs it.”
“Over there at the bottom of the chest.”
“Alrighty then.” The youth walked over to the wooden box with a pep in his step.
Well, someone got their groove back from being thrown off his mojo, Trish mused. It's good to see he knew how to adjust to Dante's attitude, but this self-boosting high could play a little karma on him; making him land on his ass before he knew what hit him.
To get one over on the hybrid felt very rewarding, like finally beating the master after the student went through a series of trials and errors. Just that this particular master always had another trick up his sleeve, and the student might go through the teachings again.
Trish saw the feel-good nature the youth sported, and she knew he grew the purpose to use that attitude against the hybrid, much to his chagrin. And despite the youth thinking that that will be enough to confront the red one, he would end up worse off than before.
So, being the good-hearted character she came to be, she took it upon herself to make sure Nero kept a sound mind deflated, slightly, of an enlarged ego when he went to meet up with the half-breed.
The teen found the chest, taking a moment to glance through the various tools of oddities before beginning his search. A time or two his devil bringer twitched, specific items in the box reacting to the magical properties within his limb, encasing the trunk in this eerie, bright blue light. He didn't contain the knowledge on whether Dante threw some stuff in here from the mansion, but certain junk called out to his arm.
Switching tactics, he moved junk about with his human hand, flipping and tossing things around until a purple binder crossed his line of vision. When he made a grab for it, it caught on something, like something underneath it pulled it down.
A slight crease marred his eyebrows, moving stuff to the side until more of the book showed itself. When he tugged a second time it lifted from within the chest―accessorized with the hand of a decayed human. Nero held the object above his head, mouth barely ajar and eyes wide open.
Four brown fingers settled on the front cover, skeletal digits corroded in strings of black dust and rusted decay. Fingernails seemed to have been ripped off of its placement, rough-strewn bumps settling in its place. Behind the text rested a similar-looking thumb; its job seemingly to keep the book closed until deemed to open. A dirtied, silver ring lied on the thumb as well, adorned with a bright red gem resting in the middle.
An unknown feature as to how and who and what will open it, but letting Dante come here to retrieve this thing didn't seem like a bad idea. There were no spare areas on the ATV to carry the item, and his pockets didn't provide any space to―
“Oh shit,” Nero whispered in a hoarse tone, the reminder of the skull fragment shooting to the front of his memory. He speed walked to the dryer, digging into his left coat pocket then the other side.
In his right compartment he felt the object, pulling the piece out and looking at it with scrutiny. The book “accidentally” dropped to the floor, Nero ignoring the creepy item as a flood of unexpected emotions rushed throughout his being.
He argued with himself of his forgetful nature with the whole episode back in that shanty town, thinking on how Dante's death ordained to impact, him and what his future might play out to be. His mind wouldn't be able to deal with the tragedy and heavy turmoil if it did happen.
Dante's aloofness probably played a part in Nero casting aside the fatal imagining. That ordeal's carefree treatment must've rubbed off on him, and his inattentive regard treated it as a 'this-happens-a-lot' incident.
But... it still affected him in a way he couldn't comprehend yet. He observed an extra extension, begrudgingly, of respect grow of the veteran's warrior capabilities. Dante is one tough son of a bitch, and it'll take more than a measly bullet to bring him down.
But the teenager wouldn't admit that out loud you know, pride and whatnot.
“Nero, you okay? The chest didn't eat you, did it?” Trish's voice rang out clear in the room.
He snapped out of his pondering at the sound, looking at the dried, black-edged, red-stained morsel before placing it back in his pocket. “Nope, I'm still here.” He glanced down at the creepy book, wondering if a mechanical arm lied around to touch the book while not touching it. “Just... I'm coming.”
The youngster grimaced at the thing, grabbing the top of the text with his thumb and forefinger, holding the object out in front of him, walking into Trish's sight. “What am I going to do with that skull piece?” The thought slowly faded into the recesses of his mind, musing on keeping it a secret and secretly keeping it for himself.
“Yup, that would be the one.” Trish said.
He stayed in the same position as he walked back to the ATV, left hand awkwardly holding the hardcover, creeped out that a piece of the decayed ulna stuck out under the wrist. “What does this book do?”
“Calls out a heavy magical spell or demon to cut off a seal. A while back, we killed a sorcerer who used it to poison objects then use those poisoned by it to do its bidding. We thought the book would be safer with us in the end.” Trish gazed upon his disgusted visage, the lightest hint of a smirk splaying on her face. Besides the priceless display, she pondered if she should explain to Nero about the insipid human responsible for this unnecessary mayhem.
She wasn't keen on withholding information, unless the event immensely piqued her interest, but she wondered that if by telling Nero would send him out to Fortuna in a frenzy. What if evidence floated around and Nero trashed it in a fit of rage?
He reposed himself to be a passionate fighter, and if there's any belief that his brunette treaded towards trouble, then he can get a little destructive. Hmm, perhaps she might call Dante to wage how much he knew, then she'd spill the beans.
“Why don't you take it to him?” he muttered, lips turned downwards in disgust.
“Dante could come here and get it himself.”
“So why―”
“But, he may need your help with something. And maybe by you going, you can see what he wanted to tell you earlier.”
“I guess.”
That puffed-up aura he waltzed into the garage with had a tell-tale dent, carrying a more focused intent the more he centered on the situation coming into fruition. Looks like she didn't have to re-direct his attention too much. Perchance the book dimmed his inflated persona some, might explain how creeped out he was by the 'hand' closing it.
“I'll be back.” Trish ran out the room to retrieve something (Nero deduced more food) and returned with a green drawstring bag. The youth wanted to show his gratitude with a kiss, but decided against it; thinking how out of character that would seem, instead opting for a gracious 'thanks' as he took the bag. After nearly putting a hole through it from chucking the hardcover in there, he mounted the ATV, placing the knapsack on the handlebars and... stopped.
He didn't know what gave him the impression that it just turns on and rides, but its design looked much more complex. To be honest, he always wanted to ride a motorcycle, to feel how riding something so sleek and dangerous would cater to his excitement.
The elder hunters made a show of it being fun, and he thought he could begin his training, by himself, then work up to the big leagues. Yet driving the all terrain vehicle shouldn't be that hard. He held the key and it required a simple task to start it up and ride.
The blond saw the contemplation on his face, knowing that his reality finally caught up to him, disengaging that tough guy attitude he showed. Which provided a good thing in great measure; he can listen to her instead of going on his own and crashing into the nearest light post.
“Hold the clutch on the left side and turn the key.”
Nero broke out of his thinking to turn his attention to the woman, immediately taking in her crossed arms and penetrating gaze; that very frosty gaze. A little voice in his head wanted to tell her of his self-abilities; of his worth to seek challenges and complete them lacking the need of help.
Inasmuch, he'd seen that expression displayed on the two women before when Dante said too much or did nothing at all. It conveyed either their displeasure, or an obvious invitation to shut up and listen to them.
If there maintained one thing Nero learned from being here, it garnered the notion that the women reigned supreme when their presence graced this house. He knew better than to interrupt her flow.
Doing as instructed he grasped the clutch and turned the key, seeing an orange light flash on as he did so. Trish looked on also, nodding once to herself; she gave it a thorough once over while he cleaned his weapons. And she kept her surprise hidden when he didn't do a basic check-up of the mobile service; surveying if the bike had the correct fluids and gas to go prior to his journey.
Honestly, where would these males be without a woman's touch every now and... actually―forget about it. She didn't want to contemplate on that.
“See that little lever by your left foot?”
“Yeah.”
“Those are your gears to make you speed up or slow down. One, neutral, two, three, four and five. If you want to go faster, hold the clutch and tap the lever up, and for slower speeds click the lever down, you got that?”
“One, neutral, two through five. Hold-press up-go faster. Hold-press down-go slower.” He maintained his ability to learn quickly from an intellectual perspective, and saved his teachings in his memory for future reference. Well, the “intellect” he received from Fortuna constantly played on repeat there, but in this open society there lied so much to intake and view and judge, so he had to adjust his mind to study appropriately.
“Good. Kick the lifter down once to be in the first gear.” He complied accordingly. “The right handle holds the brake to the front wheels and this lever on the side―” Trish tapped her foot on the right side to a similar-looking lever “―are the brakes for the back tires.”
“Got it.”
The blond minded herself to be careful of the ever-present divinity of the male individuality, making her answers succinct and to the point. Yet she took notice of how the teenager didn't seem to rush her or sensed any arrogant-like gestures coming from him. He proved himself as an able-bodied individual, ergo he couldn't have too much trouble with it.
“Hold the brake down and turn on the switch on the left.”
When the bike roared to life Nero jumped a little, surprised at how loud it sounded in the closed vicinity. After the surprise, a grin threatened to reveal his ecstatic state, shaking the bangs in front of his eyes to conceal how giddy this contraption made him.
Staring into the night revealed a midnight blue landscape missing the illuminated incandescence; light gray clouds obscuring the moon from shining. A difficult challenge shouldn't arise to maneuver around in the dark hours; most of the residents in this city lived miles away from this shanty place.
All though it made him wonder about the residential district the police station resided at. Wouldn't he look a tad suspicious on this vehicle while everyone else drove cars and trucks, even more so in populated areas?
The thought made him wary in venturing out, wondering if he'll draw more suspicion with his arm sling and sword.
Then again it was dark, wasn’t like he had to do much, judging by what Dante said. But this Dante―ugh he needed to get used to expecting the unexpected with him.
“A little piece of advice next time-” Trish came up and turned the headlights on the ATV, moving closer to the door leading back into the main office area. “-it might be beneficial to check if the bike has all the oils and gas it needs before trotting off; might save you from running into trouble.”
Ah... oh, well―oops.
With no time to ponder on this, she told him about the gas lever, to use that with the clutch to advance. With that she disappeared into the house, leaving Nero on his lonesome to put everything together that she taught him.
Going over all she said, including instructions on how to get there, he made his move; still holding on the brake as he gave the vehicle a little roar. The engine purred at his touch, sending adrenaline chills shivering through his body; anticipating on the joy ride about to begin.
Slowly he let go of the front brake, feeling himself roll just an inch, releasing any tension in the bike. Pulling the clutch all the way in he slightly pressed the fuel, letting off of each lifter as the ATV gradually progressed forward. About midway out into the street Trish came back out, yelling to him of her warning about the elder from earlier.
“Make sure Dante doesn't give you the kiss of death when you meet up with him.”
“Huh... what?”
Nero involuntarily pressed the gas a little harder than he meant to, shooting off into the street at a high velocity of speed, shaking the steering erratically to adjust to this newfound acceleration. Clamoring to remember which lever went for which function, his right foot held down the side brake; the back tires stopped, almost catapulting him from his seat. His fingers wove around the front brake, coming to a full stop nearly a block away from the house.
He chanced a glance backwards, seeing the garage door now closed from his unexpected, rapid departure. In his mind he took heed of Trish's former warning, about not getting smacked in the face, but was this 'kiss of death' thing something he should put at the top of his list of things to worry about? And what did this pucker entail? Did it stand as an ego-crusher or some other metaphor because a physical embrace of the lips would not come about again.
Vaguely recalling her instructions he continued on his journey, mind switching back and forth between functioning the ATV and her words.
Could it be that bad of an event happening if the topic elaborated further on the excuse the kiss occurred? They were two adults with mental capacities, (one stronger than the other) able to rationalize the troubling actions of their surroundings; it didn't permit to escalate to a malevolent setting between them right?
Nero breathed in the calm night air, increasing his speed on the way to play out the next scene in his life, absently wishing he contained the ability to control how the movie played out. It compelled to make him feel better if he prevented outside incidents from rearranging his production.
A/N: For some reason, I just feel like reading a story with Dante's dark side just... being evil and bitter to people. And no, not in the sense of Vergil, but in the sense that he's a sadistic, disturbed asshole 0_0
Lana Del Rey...bitch, you are AWESOME!
Uh... yeah :D
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Dreams Will Be Made Of These