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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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A week wore on and Montoya’s and Hero’s words had not left his thoughts. He heard them over and over as he watched the pathetic humans try so hard to defeat Demons (ones he could have punted with his foot and destroyed). He watched their brows cover in sweat, the veins protruding from their foreheads as they used every bit of effort in their weak little bodies.
He even managed to watch them fall, wounds not healing as quickly as needed and heavy human bodies landing on the ground either dead or dying.
And he watched them do it the next day, after having seen their comrades succumb to humanism, they still managed to stand one more time on the battle field, hope poisoning any logic.
“Isn’t that to be respected?”
What was it that beat in their hearts that he didn’t have? What made them say “fuck you” to mortality and stand before that which was so much greater than themselves? Had he known he didn’t stand a chance, would he stop trying?
These questions perturbed him, buzzing around like little bees in his brain.
He found himself sitting beside a bed in a hospital, staring down at none other than Tazial Scott, the older man’s chest rising and falling quickly. He’d waited until all the other Devil Hunters had left the small, private building, tears clinging to their cheeks. He’d waited until Hero had left, knowing that she saw him lurking in the shadows, leaving him respectfully to whatever it was he intended to do.
“No hope.” Was what the doctors and nurses were whispering as they scurried out of the room, leaving him behind with the sound of Tazial’s labored breathing.
“Dante” sat without a word in the room, his eyes never even looking at the human man, just listening as he tried to understand it all. Why did the human’s paint hospital walls so white? Was this their idea of a clean passage to Heaven? What was Tazial experiencing?
“It’s ok,” The man suddenly breathed, hand over the bloody hole that was pitifully covered with bandages. “It’s about time.”
“Are you scared?” The demon asked, wondering why his mouth hadn’t stopped the question.
“I’ve known,” Tazial panted between breaths, “this was coming….. For a long….. Time.”
“Then why not stop it?” The other asked, cringing slightly when fresh blood began to seep into the white coverings, spreading over the man’s chest and shortening his time. “Why not let yourself live like the others do? Why not try to enjoy your time instead of fight against it?”
“You wouldn’t…… understand.” The man breathed out, closing his eyes and wincing in pain. He twisted in agony, clutching the blankets closer as if he were cold. His tan flesh seemed such a contrast, the scene appearing more gory with the bloody white sheets.
“Try me.” Was all “Dante” could whisper, no haughtiness in his words. Honestly, he just wanted the chance to understand.
Tazial glanced to his side under heavy eyelids, coughing and watching as the demon looked away respectfully when blood pooled on the older man’s lower lip.
“Someone…..” he coughed. “Someone has to try.”
“But you know it’s fruitless,” The other shook his head as if disappointed, silver, young eyes seeming to plead for understanding. “You know that you will never win. You know that the longer you try, the more surely you’ll fall to it. Why not just try to enjoy your time when you can?”
“For……” Blood sprayed into the air as the older man coughed, time becoming short now. “….. Her.”
He patted his breast pocket tiredly, gesturing for the demon to pull something out of it, closing his eyes as the time drew nearer.
“Dante” frowned as he searched softly with his fingers, attempting not to cause much more pain to the dying man as he pulled out a small piece of paper. It was an envelope with a picture within, the younger man’s lips letting out a hitched breath as he unfolded it.
“She’s your daughter.” He spoke, holding the picture of a much younger Hero in his hands.
Tazial nodded as best he could.
“Why isn’t she here with you then?” Was all the younger could manager to think of, tracing the portions of her youthful face, wild hair bounding away in the wind.
“I asked…. Her not… to be.”
“Dante’s” thoughts ran wild, wondering why this had remained a secret from him. Wondering why Hero had not denied her father’s wishes and remained at his side as seemed a ritual for humans. He wondered why anyone would continue such a periless voyage, even if they had to have known, eventually it would just lead here; broken bones and tattered body begging to escape life.
“Dante,” The man suddenly breathed, letting his hand fall to his side. It was a gesture, a familiar gesture and despite himself, the young Demon sighed, gritting his teeth as he took the man’s hand into his own. He felt the fading strength in his grip, felt the dried blood and knew Tazial was now suffering beyond words.
“You should go,” The younger man spoke, as if to tell Tazial that it was time to LET go. That it was OK to let go.
“You…..” Tazial looked into his eyes. He suddenly pulled his hand from “Dante’s”, pointing strangely towards the other’s chest, as if pointing directly to his heart. “You can be…. A good man.”
Suddenly, the demon felt himself swallow, a feeling of tightness gripping his chest, as if someone was holding on to it or something. He raised his hand to touch the area, wondering if this was some sort of futile attack from the human, some sort of voodoo ritual he knew some of the hunter’s indulged in.
It felt as though he couldn’t swallow, his eyes blinking tightly with frustration, shaking his head and looking at the human for an answer.
He received none, knowing as he saw the paleness drift like a silent wave over Tazial’s face that this was no attack and that the leader of the Demon Hunters was leaving the world soon.
With the strangest sense of desperation, he clutched the man’s hand with both of his own, thinking oddly that maybe he could keep him there for just a little while longer. So many questions, so little time.
“What if I can’t be though,” He whispered desperately. “What if it just isn’t in me?”
Then, the oddest thing happened and lazily, Tazial actually smiled, laughing tiredly as his chest rose and fell.
“You’re part……. human ain’t ya?” He let one eye open just slightly, grasping the demon’s hand just a little firmer. “It’s in there.”
He slowly drifted, his hand becoming limp in “Dante’s” grasp, life leaving the tired, wrecked body.
“Hope,” Tazial breathed with his last breath. “It’s all about hope.”
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A/N: Well I do see that someone is apparently CLICKING on this story so hopefully that means that someone is also reading it. Another update (holy crap I’m on a roll) and probably another tomorrow. Reviews are really appreciated.
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Prime Evil