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Prime Evil	By : Camaro Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 3509 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Devil May Cry game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“Item.”
An “item”.
“Tony” stared dismally once more at the ceiling, angrily sorting through his memories knowing quite well he would never find what he was looking for. It was a tedious process yet he found himself nauseously doing it every day.
It was like hell, a hell of sorting through endless piles of blank papers and fully expecting that he’d magically pick one up with writing on it. But wasn’t that the definition of insanity; doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?
Maybe he was insane. Tony nodded to no one in the darkness. Yes, maybe that was the truth of it all in the end. He was an insane person with no memory and was desperately trying to pull together some remnant of a life WITH sanity.
His thoughts turned once more to the word “item” Montoya had spoken about, his tongue instantly going to his cheek.
This “Hero” person was as much of a mystery to him as he was to himself. Montoya had spoken so briefly of her and yet, if she and him were an “item” wouldn’t that put her at a very central state in his story? There had been an unease in the dark man, his eyes darting anywhere but Tony when he’d quickly spoken of her.
To the man once known as “Tony” she’d been a very center piece in his puzzle, fighting by his side. “Tony” had chosen to spend his hours with her, even chosen to take pictures with her. Unfortunately, the man that now was called “Tony” simply couldn’t understand why any of these humans or otherwise would ever go out of their way to spend the waking hours with one another.
For the first time though, Tony felt the oddest sensation. Truly, it was very irritating to have no memory. Even more so, it was straight obnoxious to be called a name that, somehow, he just knew wasn’t his own. Yet, for the first time, Tony admitted that there was truly something tragic that, where perhaps memories of something OTHER than coldness had been, there were none anymore.
For the first time, he really was curious to know how it felt to crave a connection with another person.
Where this “Tony” of old burned brightly, Tony now felt he emanated only dull coldness, the sensation one might feel when the hair stood up on their arms yet couldn’t find the source of it. For a second, he felt the ill sensation of jealousy, that, what was once warm, was now quite empty.
He recalled even more, the day that Montoya had taken him to the sea, his eyes spotting a tiny creature carrying something on its back. Montoya had spoken before Tony had even had to ask, informing him that it was a shell that the crab carried; his home.
“Then what are all of these shells for?” He’d asked, pointing to countless shells not in use.
“Maybe the little guy already lived in those ones,” Montoya had laughed, not realizing his counter-part didn’t join him. “Maybe he got bored with them.”
‘Maybe that’s what I am,’ he thought to himself. Maybe he was just a shell, where a life had once lived. And then that life had gotten bored with him and moved on, leaving him just a useless, lifeless little insignificant shell.
Dismal.
Suddenly his thoughts were pulled from him, the sound very far off but well heard by his heightened senses.
It sounded like the bursting of concrete at first, though the sound oddly enough seemed to be coming up rather than something being smashed down. The sounds of creaking came next, almost seeming at first to be the movement of one of the many cranes in Ireland, yet at this time of night, not a likely scenario.
Tony was out of his bed quicker than he’d even realized, bouncing unnaturally on one foot as he yanked his pants on. Forgetting even his own shirt, he threw himself out of his window, heart beating furiously.
It was truly a night of firsts, his blood pulsing like liquid ice through his veins, his eyes even seeming to glow, turning the world a shade of haunting blue from his perspective. The cool wind kissed his skin as he tore through it, teeth grinding in his mouth and a swimming feeling of delight completely taking over any sanity that might have been there.
He was absolutely fucking excited and he had no idea why.
The world spun around him, like he was running in warp speed, his vision stretched so that he could see for miles, something that he’d never tested up to this point. The wind whipped his hair furiously as he ripped through it, his face stretched with the craziest of smiles.
He arrived at the scene, the depictions of hell and damnation, he’d read of in the church, hardly doing this justice. Screams met the air, the sound of men and women clashing into one high pitched screech, the sounds of the damned and the dying.
It was like a volcano had erupted around them, humans scurrying like rats into their alley ways to escape the monstrous fiends that were being birthed from the ground.
Truly, Tony had never seen anything quite like them, the word “devils” coming into his mind and his thoughts agreeing that the name fit them quite well. They were awkward and clumsy, moving like the walking dead with sporadic steps that seemed to take all the effort in the world. They more convulsed than chose to walk, their very skin creaking with the movement, stretched like dead matter over broken bones.
Huge swords and scythes reached over their heads and it seemed the only time they reacted quickly was to swing their weapons, blood and flesh spraying the air as a human female was ripped completely into two parts.
Her top half landed dangerously close to Tony’s bare feet, to his disgust the dainty, bloodied hands actually reaching out in one last effort to touch him. He cringed as he kicked her away, gaining his smile back when one of the devils came slowly up to him.
He fully imagined the creepy little nuisance expected that he’d run or plead for his life like the other humans were content on doing. It made his pulse pound all the heavier when the smallest look of unease came over the monster’s hideous features, Tony cracking his neck to the side as he took one small step towards it.
Tony’s relationship with violence began right then, his heart beating with what almost sounded like delight in his ears. He even laughed along with it, eyes bright with his own brand of humor.
The photo of himself with his head thrown back in laughter flashed into his mind and it made him all the more gleeful.
‘Ah,’ He thought to himself. ‘So that’s it!’
Weaponless, save for himself, he went, what Montoya would later call, “bombs over Baghdad” on the little fuckers. Putrid flesh and blood sprayed into their air until it literally fell like raindrops back down on his flesh, his beautiful white hair diluted with it.
Gangrene flesh sank under his knuckles, bursting with yellowish fluid and bright red blood. Stealing one of their scythes, he made quick work out of the others, laughing like an absolute lunatic at all the delightful ways he could kill them.
In fact, he realized quite quickly he didn’t actually even want to kill them. Truly, he didn’t want them to die! He wanted mostly to torture them, to reign down every sick fury and twisted idea he could. He wanted to keep them for days, to understand better why it was that though they were dead, they made him feel more alive than he ever had.
Suddenly, as much as he was reigning down death, he was starting to truly love life!
He could have kissed a few of them in the revelation, if the thought didn’t instantly turn his stomach, and he lost a touch of smile until he kicked another creature in the face, the head exploding on contact.
As the last one fell, Tony felt nothing so crippling as the feeling of disappointment, fully intent on reviving the thing (no effort spared) just to feel the rush of killing it again. He even fell to the pavement next to the writhing monster, clutching it’s “hand” for a moment and trying to sooth it.
He knew his eyebrows were upright, a sad look covering his features as he basically “cooed” to the hideous thing, running his fingers gently over its face; that is before laughing like a psychopath as he rammed his fingers into its eye sockets, successfully ending whatever it was that this thing called a life.
He sat there still, feeling real, fresh raindrops begin to fall on his back. His breath panted in front of his eyes, Goosebumps gracing the flesh on his arms and chest though the cold hardly seemed to bother him. His hair fell into his eyes as he stared at the empty ground where his precious “friend” had once been.
With a chilling grin, he thought to himself that he should truly send a Christmas Card to the thing, never having felt so truly alive than he had because of this attack.
“What is it about you?” He whispered, eyelids blinking lazily as he stretched his hand across the pavement. “What do you do to me?”
Had he even whispered aloud that he was truly in love with the demon, it wouldn’t have surprised him much. It was as though life itself had been breathed into him and as much as he hated to admit it, it slowly was seeping out once again, leaving him a shallow shell once more.
It almost felt cruel, in that he felt like he’d seen heaven only to be denied at the gates. Why show him true beauty only with the intention of taking it away almost instantly afterwards?
“Heads-up!” Came a scream, followed by the earth suddenly shaking all around him.
Once more, as though heaven was answering his prayers, the blue fire soared inside Tony, his panted breaths tainted with the color as he poured air out of his lungs. His very veins burned with fire, a fire so hot to the touch that it almost felt cold.
He was forced to jump backwards as the concrete he had been lying on disintegrated, a large, bulbous head birthing from the earth itself. It was by far the smelliest thing he’d encountered, black flesh and magma for blood coming into view.
“Vigil,” the loud, horrible voice quaked the ground, Tony’s eyes narrowing as something inside him churned with something akin to recognition. “Viiiiiigil!”
“Yeah yeah,” Came a voice to his right, his head spinning. “we’ll throw you a candle-light vigil later!”
To his right she stood, arms extended to her sides with long swords that were literally attached, beautiful curly hair whipping around her head. Though in the picture Hero’s hair appeared black, in this light, it soared with the color of blood, intensified by haunting green eyes. Dark leather wrapped in circular motions down her body, patches of exposed skin coming into view.
She turned for a short moment to glare at him, turning just as quickly back to the monster that, oddly enough, seemed to be having a bit of trouble freeing itself from the ground and was taking quite a time to do so.
Black nails reached out of the earth, sharp like talons as the monster lifted them and then let them sink down towards Tony and Hero, the two narrowly avoiding the attack that cracked the pavement in two. Tony had but to jump backwards, soaring twenty feet through the air. Hero, dodged by rolling sideways, hair littered with chards of concrete and even bits and pieces of humans and monsters.
Tony caught himself, in that flash of a moment, admiring her skill, admiring the woman that he’d stared so often at in a picture, yet was taken back as the beautiful girl came to life before his eyes. Clad in black leather and sky high heels, she literally jumped on the demon’s head, riding the thing while pummeling it with her elongated swords. She even clutched onto it’s “eyebrow” soaring downwards to deliver a few blows right into the monster’s eyeball.
It screamed at the attack, claws desperately trying to pry her away, the very sound pushing the hair on Tony’s head back over his brow. He even caught himself laughing suddenly, watching as this tiny little lady unleashed holy hell on the unsuspecting creature!
“Uhhh, some help?” She yelled, delivering a monstrous kick into the fiend’s face. “Anytime now!”
He grabbed a scythe, smacking it down over the devil’s head, earning what sounded like a very peevish scoff from Hero.
“Dante you idiot!” She kicked off from the demon’s head, landing with a back flip right next to Tony. “You know you can’t use that weapon against him!”
She received only a blank stare.
“You can’t use the ‘dead’s’ weapons against this guy!” She grabbed at her ankle, pulling a gun from its holster and shoving it rudely into his hand. “God you’re a moron!”
Tony knew his eyebrow had to be touching his hairline, every bit of him wanting to smack the little snot for such a rude barraging of totally unnecessary insults. Instead, he aimed the gun straight at her face, feeling a smile stretch once more over his features.
“What’d you call me?” He whispered, lowering his head and moving closer to her.
He felt, more than knew, how to use the weapon she’d given him, knowing somehow that, at one point, he’d had to have encountered something like it.
“Now’s not the time,” Hero answered soberly, staring with disbelief at his face. There was even a slight twinge of fear laced in her words, Tony admitting that he preferred her speaking that way to him.
He turned towards the demon, jumping up to spray bullets into its unhindered eye, receiving the sweetest of screams as it writhed back and forth, still apparently caught in between the ground and the rest of the world. It slashed at him wildly, but to no avail, only having it’s right arm taken away as he literally pulled it from it’s socket.
Peevishly, and much to his delight, he threw the huge appendage at the female, laughing as it toppled her over, high heels and leather flying.
It took next to nothing to finish the demon off, Tony ending its life quickly as his love affair with it had grown cold over time; that and he wished to simply be done away with the smell of what he could only equate with burnt hair. It bubbled and screeched as it died, burning into a pile of tar before seeping back into the earth from where it’d come.
Tony turned and laughed harder than he could ever recall having laughed, spying Hero and all her precious outfit positively COVERED in black, sticky filth. It clung to her hair even, stringy bits of funk flying in the wind, tangled with blood and acidic raindrops.
Her face was priceless, eyebrows stitched together as she gathered her footing, arms flying wildly as she tried to flick the gunk away. It seemed though, the harder she tried, the more the fluid seemed to hold on, Tony laughing so hard his stomach actually ached with it.
The sky above cracked with lightening, rain pelting down like a monsoon around them. Tony had looked above for but one second before realizing Hero had covered the distance between them, her gunky, black funk covered hand covering his whole face.
She smacked him good and hard and harder than he’d ever been smacked, to his knowledge, his beautiful face now demolished by demon goo. It took him so by surprise that he didn’t even return the favor, gasping with shock that she still stood there, eyes burning into him, daring him to try.

After all she’d just seen, after all she’d just witnessed, this crazy fucking female was not one bit afraid of him.
“You’re such a dick Dante.” She spat.
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Prime Evil