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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
DISCLAIMER: I
do not own Devil May Cry or any of its characters.

He stared at the knife in the youth's hands as
Nero's fingers were tracing the worn-out handle; he almost reached
out for it, ripping it out of his hands as he feared Nero's touch
would destroy the memory that laid within the small knife.

He never thought he would see it again, but now as
he saw it, it felt like as if he have stumbled right into his past,
its ghost lingering in Nero's tentative clutch. He could feel how the
kid's body relaxed into his, his back leaning against him, the knife
almost slipping out of his hold as it had suddenly become too heavy
for him to hold. Dante reached out with one arm, catching it as his
hand brushed over Nero's fingers, his own cheek slightly touching the
one of the other male as he leaned forward. His fingers found the old
handle and the heavy weight felt familiar in his grip. Without
drawing back, he looked at the knife.

"I won't take a 'don't know' for an answer,
Nero." His breath crept over his skin as Dante's stare never
left the knife. "Where did you get this?" he asked again.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched how Nero's
eyelids began to close as the youth had no more strength left, but he
wouldn't let him have his peace as long as he didn't get his answer.

"I really don't know," the boy answered
him and his voice sounded as if he were half asleep, but his focus
still laid on the knife that Dante held. The devil hunter pulled his
arm back in a sudden action, before he swirled Nero around and pushed
him against a wall which was hardly whole due the events of their
fight against the demons. His arms framed the boy as he rested them
at each side of his head, staring at Nero who was looking at him with
big, blue eyes.

"What the fuck, Dante?" he snarled angrily
at him and tried to get past the older hunter, but was pushed back
immediately. His back collided hard with the wall and Dante could
hear how the air was knocked out of his lungs. A pained expression
was shown on Nero's face and he could see how new blood found its way
through his torn shirt. He was almost sorry for treating the kid
without so much as a care, since he was badly wounded – almost.

"Yeah, what the fuck, Nero?" He repeated
the words in a low voice as he leaned into the boy. "Was it just
laying around there? I saw you throwing it; I didn't know it was my
brother's until you picked it up. So where did you get it?" He
was merely inches away from his face as his eyes stared into his.

Nero couldn't take his stare any longer, the intense
fire in Dante's eyes threatening to burn him alive. "Someone
gave it to me," he answered him after a while, not sure if it
was what the other wanted to hear. "You wouldn't believe it
anyway," he added after a while, his voice only but a low
whisper.

"Try me." Dante wanted to encourage him to
tell him more, but the breathing of the boy became more and more
erratic. He took another look at the boy's wounds – they should
have healed by now, at least getting better, but they were still
bleeding freely. His demon blood should have taken care of it, but
didn't.

"Your brother. He gave it to me." Nero's
eyes closed again and this time he couldn't fight against the
exhaustion any longer. His body slipped slowly down the wall before
Dante caught him. He stared at the youth in confusion.

"Vergil?"

"You have another brother I don't know about?"
Nero whispered in Dante's neck where his head rested against one of
his shoulders. "I don't feel so good," he added, sounding
younger than he really was. "What happened when I was out?"

"Out?"

"Unconscious."

"When?"

He felt Nero's body shifting underneath his hold, a
low quiver running through him, his legs trembling terribly.

"When I -" Nero stopped, his body
stiffening as he recalled the memory in his head, "when I was
pinned against that wall, claws digging into my shoulders... does
that ring a bell?"

"That was only a few seconds."

"Seconds?" He felt Nero's lips smile
against his exposed skin of his neck. "Dante?"

"Yes?"

"I really don't feel good... I – what's
happening?"

Dante sighed. "I don't know."

"I need to sleep."

He felt like a jerk. "I should get you back to
Devil May Cry. Your wounds are still bleeding. Guess I need so sew
you up." He wanted to sound calm, wanted to sound casual, but he
couldn't. He still felt the anger inside him. Nero had Yamato –
the sword picked him as his owner. Now he had his brother's old
pocketknife. Again it seemed like something that had belonged to his
brother had picked Nero instead of him. But why? He couldn't even
understand how a small blade like this could have killed a demon, but
it did and he was sure that there was more behind it and he wanted to
know what – now. But Nero wasn't in the condition to tell him,
not yet. He was close to beating the truth out of him, he realized
suddenly, stepping back as he did.

Nero stumbled at the sudden loss of support, but
caught his balance immediately. Dante frowned as Nero took a look at
him. "What is it?" he wanted to know, his voice hoarse. He
used one arm against the wall to hold himself upwards while his other
hand was clutched over his abdomen, blood seeping through his fingers
slowly.

"I'm just wondering about the connection you
seem to have to my brother."

"And that's why you want to kill me?"

Dante blinked in surprise.

"Because you sure look like you'd want to do it
any second now," Nero told him, coughing.

A smile formed on Dante's face. "I want to know
the truth. How could I do that if you were dead? I need you."

Nero laughed bitterly. "Oh, that's good to
know. I thought we were partners. But you just use me to get to your
brother, don't you?"

It didn't take long for Dante to answer. "Yes."

Nero just stared at him. "You fucking bastard."
He leaned with one of his shoulders against the wall as he started to
walk, leaving a bloody trail behind him as he aimed for the destroyed
front door.

Dante reached out with his left arm, opening his
mouth as he wanted to say something. He wanted to say 'Nero, don't,
it's not like that,' but that wouldn't be the truth. So the only
thing he said was just "Yamato," and Nero stopped in his
tracks.

Dante couldn't see him not turning around as he was
still facing the other side of the living room, the front door at his
back. But he could feel the betrayal Nero felt, rising like steam
upon him.

"You're kidding me," Nero said, the hurt
in his voice load and clear. "The fucking sword?"

"It's so much more..." Dante started, but
couldn't finish the sentence, the memories of Temen-ni-gru returning
in a hot wave. He didn't want to have this conversation with
Nero now, and especially not like this. Nero thought that he was
nothing more than a pawn for him, that he didn't really matter, but
the truth was, he was right. First came Yamato and his brother and
then came Nero – not the other way around. Did he really think
it could be like this? He met the boy only for a couple of hours; he
was impressed of his fighting skills and technique, but that was it –
no more feelings.

And then it hit him: while Dante didn't expect
anything from Nero, the kid expected everything from him –
he didn't know what that was, but it would explain the hurt feelings.
The kid still had so much to learn about life and it ugly sides –
the sooner, the better.

Dante turned around, laying one hand on Nero's
shoulder. "We should get you back to Devil May Cry," he
repeated his words. Nero nodded, too tired to say anything else,
embracing his fate like a blanket. He couldn't fight any longer –
not physically, not mentally. Dante knew the boy was at his mercy; he
had nowhere to go, wounded and hurt in a city where he knew no one.

He didn't only feel like a jerk. Dante was a
jerk.

The boy struggled to keep himself on his feet but he
managed the long walk back to the car without the help of Dante. His
eyes never left the kid and as he sat behind the steering wheel, he
couldn't turn the key to start the car. Nero crashed beside him,
adjusting the backrest so he could half sit, half lay in the
passenger seat.

He turned his head to look at the kid, but Nero had
already closed his eyes. Dante could tell that he wasn't asleep.

"I was thinking..." Nero started, his
voice low and quiet. Dante turned the key around and the engine of
the car started. "When I was attacked in Fortuna... the demon
told me that you would come to get the sword... I never thought you
would, though, because you could have just taken it back then after
the incident with the Order. But you didn't. But I think the fucker
was right. You want Yamato after all." He chuckled. "God,
Dante, you're so full of shit."

"God has nothing to do with it, Nero." He
realized he called the kid too often by his name – he should
stop it. Names were too personal.

"I'll go back to Fortuna. After all, it started
there. It should end there. I thought I would help you so I came all
the way, but clearly you don't want any help."

You got that right. But he didn't say it out
loud.

"What will you do now?"

The question hung between them like the Sword of
Damocles – Dante was sure the thin strand that held it would
rip with his answer.

"I'll do what the demon told you. I'll take
Yamato back."

Chapter 6: What We Dreamed Of

He made up his mind and now that he had spoken the
words, there was no way of taking them back. It didn't have to do
anything with Nero, but with the Yamato and Vergil. Well,
theoretically.

But there are those who want it. Who want to gain
more power.

Tell me, do you still hear his voice?

I killed my brother.

He had killed his brother, and if he needed to, he
would kill the kid, too. He didn't want to go down that path, but he
had to face the truth. Something big was going on that involved his
and Vergil's past, and Nero was accidentally dragged into this after
he had accidentally restored the sword. Accidentally.

If Vergil leaves your body, your own soul is
going to break.

If Vergil's strong enough to leave your body,
you'll die.

As the man had spoken those words it had sounded
like it was a made deal – it was just a matter of time now. And
it was true. He knew that all those words he spoke were true, that
his brother's soul was captured within Nero's own. It would suit
Vergil. Too stubborn to just die, too stubborn to just vanish in
hell. Just how did he manage to do it?

He would take Yamato back, not sure what would
happen to Nero if he did so. The kid will lose his Devil Bringer,
that's for sure, but he would survive. After all, there would be the
slight chance that Vergil's soul was within the sword, but to be sure
about that, he needed to talk to the boy. About the dreams, about the
voice, about everything that Nero hadn't told him yet, but had gladly
talked with a stranger about it. If someone was to open the Hell Gate
again, then he needed to stop it – even though he couldn't care
less what would happen to the human world, but after all, his father
risked his life to save the world he was born into. He couldn't let
him have had risked his own life for nothing. No. Not after what had
happened to his mother, who had so deeply loved the world they lived
in. If someone would open the Hell Gate again, if he would do nothing
to prevent an event like that, then he would betray everything his
parents had stood for.

"I'll lose the Devil Bringer," Nero
managed to say as he sat slowly up to look at Dante, who focused on
the street in front of him.

"Probably."

"Will I die?"

Dante scoffed. "Probably not."

"Will he leave my body, when you take the sword
back?"

"I don't know."

"Then fuck you, Dante! I need the sword,
I need..."

"To gain more power?" Oh, where had he
heard those words before? "You saved your girl, kid. You saved a
city that didn't want to be saved. You did everything you could. You
don't need the sword anymore, do you?"

"How could I go back after where I had been?"
he whispered, not caring if Dante could understand him, but the devil
hunter understood just well.

"After you had that much power, you mean. You
sound just like my brother. Don't let it consume you."

"You think he's right, don't you." It
wasn't a question and Dante knew that he was talking about the old
man.

"Yes."

"I- ugh, fuck..." Nero wanted to turn
around, but his wounds kept him sitting where he was.

"Don't move or they'll re-open again. Just shut
up until I get you back and then, you'll tell me everything you
know."

He saw how Nero opened his mouth, but then shut it
again. They were silent for the rest of the way back to Devil May
Cry.

XXX

He kicked the door so hard that it slammed against
the wall and almost broke, but Dante didn't care as he walked with
big steps through his office until he reached his desk. He pulled one
of the drawers open and looked through it, as if he were searching
for something. Nero shuffled behind him and fell down on the couch, a
happy sigh leaving his lips as his body hit the red leather. Before
his eyes could close, Dante was at his side, pulling him up so he
would sit.

"Take your clothes off," he told the boy,
as he placed a washcloth, band aids, sanitizer and bandages together
with a needle and twine on the small couch table. He saw how Nero
grimaced.

"I never thought a man would be the first one
to say those words to me," he tried to joke as Dante rose one
elegant eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He did as he was told to
and slowly pulled back his torn shirt to expose his bloody chest.
Dante took some of the sanitizer and put it on the washcloth, using
it to clean Nero's wounds. As the liquid touched one of the wounds on
his shoulder, he couldn't help but hiss.

"Don't be such a pussy," Dante told him as
he picked up the needle and twine. His fingers traced his chest as
they reached for the wounds on his shoulders. He leaned closer, his
breath touching Nero's neck.

"Why do you hate me?" Nero suddenly asked
as he sat still, Dante stinging the needle through his skin, pulling
the twine with it. His voice ran through Dante's body like the rumble
of a thunderstorm. He sighed as he tautened the twine.

"I don't," he replied, while he kept his
focus on Nero's wounds.

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

He stopped with his movements to look at Nero. The
kid had turned his face to stare into his eyes, but he didn't dare to
return the look.

"Why should I keep you near?" he asked in
return, speaking the truth, and out of the corner of his eyes he
could see how Nero blinked a few times.

"I – I just thought because of the
connection we have, that-"

"What connection, kid? You certainly share a
connection with my brother, but not with me. We only met for a couple
of hours in Fortuna; we fought together. I didn't take you on a date,
so don't act like a chick that's desperately waiting for me to call.
That's not gonna happen." He closed the wound and turned to the
second one on the right shoulder, but Nero suddenly pushed him away,
getting some space between them.

Dante kept where he was, staring at the needle he
held in his hand, the silver line barely visible.

"I need to know. I need to know how you got
dragged into this mess, kid. This is not your battle to fight, it's
mine. You shouldn't even be here, but you are. So I need to know, why
are you here. Tell me everything I don't know."

Dante reached into his pocket, drawing the knife out
of his and laid it on the table in front of them. He saw how Nero
stared at it.

"Your brother got this from your father,"
he said after a while, waiting for Dante to say something, but the
devil hunter didn't. His face didn't show any emotion at all. "I
– Dante, tell me what happened the night your mother was
killed."

And now the demon hunter moved. He blinked a couple
of times, staring at the knife as it were a snake. His expression
showed the hurt feelings inside him. "How do you know?" he
asked the kid in a hoarse voice, not realizing how he got shoved down
that path so suddenly. He had lost control and he didn't like it. How
was it possible for Nero being so vulnerable one moment and the next
he was holding the Damocles sword in his hands?

"Are you sure you want to go that road, kid?"

Nero stared at him. "I've already been there."

XXX

"I mean it! I kill you if you do!"

He stopped within his movement right in the middle
of their room. There was no moon this night and no light that would
create big shadows on the walls, scaring him – but even though
he was still scared, tonight he wouldn't hide underneath his sheets.
He had seen Vergil running out of their room down the stairs and he
had wanted to follow him, but his brother had forbid it. It wasn't
like him to listen to his brother's order – he was really only
a few minutes older than him – but he always acted like it were
years. Normally, he wouldn't have listened – he would had run
down the stairs to follow his steps – but not tonight.

Tonight, everything was different. He tiptoed to his
brother's nightstand and opened the top drawer.

He saw it laying there and, without thinking, he
took it before he slowly went to the door, trying not to made any
sound. Dante glared around the corner, down the hall, and back again.

He heard glass breaking and almost ran back to his
bed immediately, but kept standing in his place.

"Mom?" It was his brother's voice, low and
muffled since he was downstairs, probably in the kitchen. He couldn't
wait any longer. He slowly walked outside their room to the banister,
to lean forward and look down in the big hall. "Mom?" his
brother asked again and seconds later he saw Vergil coming out of
their living room, heading for the stairs to their basement.

"Vergil?" he asked, leaning as much
forward as he could, only standing on the tips of his toes.

"Go back, Dante!" his brother hissed
loudly, but he wouldn't move. He watched as his brother took the
stairs until he was too far gone. He felt his heart racing and his
breathing became erratic. He was so full of fear that he almost
couldn't think straight. All he knew was that he was alone and that
was never good. He wanted to be near his brother, wanted to
see his mother, wanted her to hold him in her arms, to tell him
everything was going to be okay... He often hated it, when his mother
would embrace him like it were the last time she would see him, but
now he wanted nothing more than to feel her skin against his and to
smell the sweet scent of her hair.

His feet found the cold stairs as he slowly walked
down. Before he could reach the end of the stairs, he heard a stifled
scream and the loud slam of a door. As adrenaline pushed his body
down the stairs faster as a human being could run, he felt the fear
taking a hold of his heart as it would almost burst.

He was near panic, ready to cry and scream for his
mother, but as he took the second stairs down to the basement, no
sound would escape his lips until he reached the door. He heard his
mother cry, he heard a deep voice and a loud "No!" followed
by "Vergil..."

He slammed with his little fists against the door,
kicking against it, hitting the doorknob as it wouldn't move, but it
didn't open. "Mom!" he screamed, hearing how his own voice
cracked as it was full of fear. He stopped and pushed his ear against
the door – it was silent and his face went grey.

"Mom... Vergil," he whispered, as he
leaned against the door while his legs couldn't hold the weight of
his body anymore. His palms laid flat against the wood where it had
splintered, but not because of him hammering against it. He crouched
on the floor, his head resting against the door as he could hear his
brother screaming, furniture moving and breaking, a deep growl of a
dark voice. His chest hurt as it felt as it were ripping apart. Tears
were running freely down his face as sobs escaped his throat. He
couldn't find any words anymore as he was hugging himself, too afraid
to move further.

"Mom..." he formed the word as it was
heard between his sobs and then it was silent. The noise behind the
door had died and he tried desperately to hear something, anything.
He pushed his hands against the door and he felt the wood move. The
door opened slowly and he stuck his head into the room.

He saw the big, dark body of a demon standing at the
other side of the room. It arms were above his head and it held a
weapon in its hand. He looked passed the demon and saw his brother
sitting on the floor, a bloody mess was laying next to him. The
weapon of the demon crushed down on his brother and before he knew
what was happening, his body rushed forward. He took the knife out of
his pocket, jumping at the back of the demon, driving the knife deep
into one shoulder blade. Distracted from the sudden pain, the weapon
missed Vergil by a few inches. His brother's eyes found him and he
saw pure horror in them. He cried silently as he rushed to Dante's
side, away from the demon. He pulled his brother from its back,
heading for the door.

"But, but mom!" he screamed as he stumbled
with his brother, but Vergil only shook his head.

"Don't look back," he told him. But he
couldn't listen and did it. With one moment his innocent world was
destroyed for good. He looked back and the bloody mess he had seen
only moments before was his mother. Before his brain could memorize
the picture forever, he saw a dark shadow flashing above them,
landing in front of him and Vergil, blocking their way.

"Master told me you were mine for the taking,"
the creature said, slipping its tongue out to lick over his lips.
Vergil held out his arm to shove Dante behind his body, but he took
one step forward, holding the knife in front of him. Vergil saw the
small weapon in his hand and ripped it out of it.

"You idiot," he hissed at him as he raised
his other hand as if he wanted to slap him, but didn't, and turned
around instead to face the demon.

"I'll kill you if you don't move," he spat
at the devil, which earned him a creepy laugh from the creature.

"No!" Dante put a hand on his brother's
shoulder, trying to hold him back – he didn't want to lose him,
too; he'd rather die than live alone. Vergil shook off his hand,
staring angrily at the demon.

"You? Kill me?" It laughed again as Vergil
rushed forward. He was small enough to run through its legs, turning
around as he arrived at the other side, jumping high to cling to its
back just as Dante did only seconds before. He quickly drove the
knife deep into its spine – too deep. The demon tried to fight
the boy off, but couldn't reach for it.

As the blade cut through his spine, he was no longer
able to hold himself up and collapsed to the ground.

The demon was struggling as he tried to hang onto
his life. But Vergil wouldn't let him as he turned the demon around,
hovering above its form. He held the knife to the demon's throat,
ready to cut, but Dante was at his side within seconds, laying a hand
gently over Vergil's.

"Don't," he said and it almost sounded
like a plea. He locked his eyes with Vergil's.

"Why?" his brother asked, and his voice
sounded so full of pain that Dante flinched.

"Please..." He brought his brother's hand
away from the demon. He had seen enough blood; he couldn't stand it
any longer. He wanted the beast to go away.

"No." Vergil breathed the last word, his
voice now cold as ice and so very different from the one Dante knew.
He lifted his hand and grabbed the head of the demon to expose his
throat. Vergil pressed the blade into the tender flesh, before he
pulled away, ready to strike.

Dante saw the silver blade rushing through the air
and his eyes found the form of the demon before them on the ground.

His heart stopped and the world slowed. He turned
his head around and saw the knife in Vergil's hand. He tried to reach
out for him as he looked back to the demon.

"No!"

The warm blood of the demon splattered his face, as
Vergil had cut through his throat. His older brother fell down to his
knees as he stared at the demon. He was gurgling, as Vergil had cut
through his vocal cords as well.

Hot tears ran down his cheeks. "Oh god, no,"
he whimpered, as he couldn't hold himself any longer. He collapsed
over the dead demon, crying freely.

He felt Vergil's eyes on him as his hands found
something underneath the demon's body just beneath its neck.

"Dante, what-"

He pulled out the necklace his mother got from their
father. It was smeared with blood.

"Mom..." he heard Vergil's voice, but he
sounded as if he were far away as Dante hugged the body of their dead
mother.

XXX

"He killed your mother." It wasn't
a question, but a statement.

Dante nodded.

"But I saw her dying! It was that demon who had
killed her."

He felt Nero's eyes resting on his back as he turned
away, trying to hide the pain that was written all over his face. He
hadn't talked about that night for a long time and now he knew why
he'd buried the memory so deep within him.

"It was an illusion." He almost choked on
the words. "While we were seeing a demon that was trying to kill
us, she wanted to get us to safety. We didn't know – she didn't
know."

He turned around to face Nero, cold eyes staring
into the kid's. "He never took you there, am I right?" Nero
nodded.

"I often dreamed about the stairs and the
basement. I could hear a woman cry, but I never watched her dying."
He stared down at the old wooden floor as he didn't dare to look at
Dante. He suddenly realized that he shared something with Dante that
the other man didn't want to share with anyone. He felt like a
parasite.

"Back in the old mansion, something happened. I
was unconscious, but it was a lot longer than you said, old man. I
talked to a boy. He said," he looked up to stare into Dante's
blue eyes, "his name was Vergil. I – I think it was
something I imagined during the fight. An illusion, maybe. He told me
I was starting to lose myself in my own mind. He told me I would
hide, but..."

"No." Dante shook his head and crossed his
arms in front of his chest. Nero wasn't hiding from anything; he
himself hid something and he wanted to know what it was. "What
is it that you're hiding?"

He locked his eyes with Nero's, holding his gaze
until the kid couldn't stand it any longer. The boy wanted to escape,
but he was trapped between Dante and the red leather couch he was
sitting on. Dante was leaning forward, pressing the boy's body
further into the coach. He saw Nero's Adam's Apple move as he
swallowed.

"I'm not hiding anything," he choked, as
he stared at his collar bone, a slight blush creeping over his
cheeks.

"Bullshit," Dante whispered, his breath
dancing over Nero's exposed neck, creating goosebumps. Nero reached
out with his human arm, resting it gently against Dante's chest as if
he wanted to push him away, but couldn't.

"Well?" Dante teased him, rising one
eyebrow as he was waiting for the answer. He could almost hear the
beating of the kid's heart. Nero opened his mouth and he thought he
was going to say something, but instead a fist collided with his chin
and he stumbled backwards, surprised by the sudden attack. Nero was
over him within an instant, glaring angrily at him.

"Fuck you, Dante. I thought we were friends,
but it's obvious that I'm nothing to you. So why should I care
telling you? Why do you even want to know? I'm leaving
tomorrow; it wouldn't change anything if you knew, would it?"

He didn't answer him, just kept staring at the boy
as he knew what would come next.

"You bastard, your mourning over your brother's
death even after so many years. What does it say to me? That the bond
your shared is even stronger than death itself. You spent your
childhood with your brother, even most of your youth – I get it
now. You both saw how your mother died, you lived in constant fear of
what the future would bring, but you both had to deal with
this burden. You both gave each other strength, love, and
comfort. You both always knew that you were different, but you
always had each other. I, on the other side, had no one and I
don't want your pity or anything else. I was alone my whole life,
never knew my parents, never knew why I was cursed with this!"

He showed his demonic arm to Dante.

"I spent my life asking myself what the purpose
was that I was here, why I even existed – until the day I met
you. You were different, just as I was. The same hair, the
same skills, same technique. You're a loner, just like I am, since
your brother's dead. I just assumed that I could find my answers
through you. I just thought I wouldn't feel so fucking different
anymore."

He turned away now that the anger found its way out.
He suddenly felt ashamed of sharing so much with a man he barely
knew, but at the same time he felt like he'd known Dante forever. The
truth was, he wanted to get to know Dante, wanted to see behind the
mask the man was wearing. But he wouldn't because the man in front of
him didn't feel the same thing. For Dante, Nero was just a passing-by
memory that would only last for a couple of days, nothing more. He
got it now. Dante was a fighter, a swordsman, but he wasn't the nice
guy from next door.

And Nero didn't want him to be like that.

He saw Dante move, turning his back on him.

"You're wrong. We're not the same."

He turned around, facing the younger man and his
anger. "I would choose my brother within a second over you. And
I would kill him again if I needed to. But you're nothing like me or
like us. Don't try to fit into something that's too big for you. You
can leave for Fortuna, you can fight on your own or you stay here
with me. If you choose to stay with me, to accept this mission, you
have to play by my rules. You'll expect nothing of me and neither
will I. So what's it going to be, Nero? I'll take Yamato from
you either way, there's no choice about that. But you can't hide from
my brother and his enemies."

Nero scoffed. "Right now I'm starting to think
that you are my enemy. If you don't give a shit about me, then
how do I know you'll cover my back?"

Dante grinned, but it was empty.

"No risk, no fun."
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Equilibrium